Flower Boy (BoyxBoy)

v

edd.

EVEN TWO DAYS LATER, my finger-shaped bruises were dark blue, on my pale skin. I despise getting like that; when my anxiety clouds my conscience. I feel weak and as if my outbursts are simply a cry for attention.

As I sit on the stool behind the cashier's station, I try not to look as tired as I feel. I roll up the sleeve of my black work shirt and stare at the bruises from that night.

I should be smarter than this.

"Excuse me."

I jump, falling from my seat in surprise as I struggle to quickly cover my forearm. I cautiously look at the person who startled me.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" The red-haired boy asks, leaning over the counter.

I gasp in remembrance of him and quickly stand up, fixing my beanie and standing with my back against the wall. I find myself holding my wrist again.

"M-may I help you, sir?" I ask. My heart is pounding against my ribcage a lot harder than what is recommended of someone who is simply standing.

"Uh, yeah. I need a bouquet for my girlfriend," he says. For some reason, him saying the word "girlfriend" makes my heart ache.

"How long have you two been together?" I force myself to ask. I walk briskly around the store to the short shelf flowers sitting in long, glass tubes of water.  Quickly, I pluck a few different flowers for the bouquet.

"It's our one year anniversary in tonight," he says. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I stop and put a few flowers back.  I turn around after a few more minutes of thinking and flower picking. "Okay. Your bouquet is done."

He looks surprised for a moment before he takes the array of flowers from my hands. His fingertips brush my fingers, causing me to gasp and pull away sharply. I walk past him to the cash register before he can say anything.

"What's in this bouquet?" He asks.

"A lot of different flowers," I say, biting my lip. "Some agrimony, pink alstroemeria, white bellflower, etcetera. Most of them represent friendship and love."

The man smiles and nods at me. "And you remembered all of that on the top of your head?"

"I-I did," I respond, tapping numbers into the register. My hands are shaking.

"That's pretty amazing."

I take a deep breath.  "W-Would you like it put in a vase for five dollars or plastic wrapping for one dollar?"

"I don't need the vase, but I will take the wrapping stuff," He says.  His voice is so gentle, like he's talking to a threatened animal.  "Can you also write a note for me?"

"Of course," I pick up an ochre-colored notepad from next to the register and a pen.  "What would you like it to say?"

"'Dear Isabel, thank you for dragging me into your messed up world of science. I love you. Signing off, Kevin.'"

I write down the note sloppily, trying as hard as I could to leave his presence as quickly as possible.  I can't stand seeing him and feeling what I do for him; it feels gross and vulnerable.  

"Thank you," he says quietly.  I glance up at him to see him looking right back at me with a strange expression on his face.  His eyebrows are furrowed upward and I saw something in his eyes that didn't make sense; something like worry or hope.

"Of course," I say, trying to control my breathing.  "I'll be right back, sir."

I smile as I take his flowers to the back room, but as soon as the door closes, I can no longer control the hyperventilating.