Lured into the Danger

Quatorze

Anderssen Flowers was a quaint place, filled with plants of every kind and more types of Tulips than Gilbert could name. It was like somebody had taken a slice of the Netherlands and placed it neatly in the middle of this city.
He felt welcome as he stepped into the building, engulfed by the scent of so many plants.
"Can I help you?" The man at the counter had a pipe between his lips and a scar on his forehead. He wore a blue scarf and a tan coat.
"Uh...I hope so. Did a guy come in here with an order? Tall? Blond? Glasses?"
"I get a lot of customers."
"His name was Matthew."
"Ah."
"You know him? Do you know where he is?!"
"Me and Matthew have been friends for years."
"Okay, but do you know where he is?"
"I do. But he's not taking visitors."
"Taking visitors?"
"I can't tell you where he is because he doesn't want to be found." He took a long drag from his pipe, blowing the smoke through his nose.
"But...I'm Gilbert..."
"So?"
Gilbert sighed. "I love him."
"And I bet he loves you too, but I was instructed not to let anybody see him unless they know the password."
"Password? What password?"
"Do you know flower language?"
"I mean...a little?? I googled it..."
"Well, that's all I'm at liberty to tell you."
Gilbert thought back to the letter, to the line about the want for Tonquil. 
"Can you send him flowers for me?"
The Dutchman smirked.  So it seemed like Gilbert was on the right track.
"What kind of flowers were you looking at?"
"Tonquil. A lot of it." A lot of forgiveness.
"Sounds like a plan." He started to walk out onto the floor, "I'm Lars."
"Thanks, Lars."
Lars out together a bouquet, setting it on the counter.
"I'll deliver it for you."
"How much do I owe you?"
"No charge. Just take care of him."
"Take care of him? Where is he, Lars?"
"He'll come to you."
"When?"
"Soon."
Gilbert scowled, disappointed. "You're sure? And you promise he's okay?"
"He's alright. He's eating and sleeping. Still not taking his meds, though."
"So he's okay? He's not going to hurt himself?"
"Yes. He's okay."
"His brother wants to see him."
"I know. I've been told."
"Told? By who?"
"Matthew, obviously."
"Wait...he told you? He's mute."
"There's a such thing as notes, Gilbert."
"I guess you're right."
"Do you want to leave one with the bouquet?"
"What? A note?"
"Yeah. To personalize the flowers a bit."
"Oh, sure. Got a pen?"
"And stationary." Lars ducked below the desk, retrieving supplies and setting it all in front of him.
"Knock yourself out."
"Danke."
Gilbert chose a slice of stationary and took the cap off a marker, trying to think about what he wanted to say.
It had to be something important, something impressive. He wanted it to be perfect, to completely strike Matthew with the full force of his affection.
He thought back to the first note that had been sent by Gil, the one that had gotten him that glorious first date.
He smiled as he wrote the message, drawing a penis right under it.
Dear Matthew,
We met at the wedding. I was the incredibly narcissistic guy who handled the music. I don't know how you became impressed by me, but I want the chance to see you again. I doubt you're entirely convinced, so here's a picture of a dick (not mine. Mine is much nicer) which I drew below.
I'm so fucking sorry for not giving you a chance at explaining. I want to see you again so bad. I want to be with you again. For real this time. I love you.
-Gilbert