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"If you were a flower, you'd be a damndelion."
"Dandelions are a weed."
"Oh."
Roses begins to seep beneath his cheeks, similar to the sunset that bled into a maple tree on autumn. Seeing how burnt Oikawa's cheeks looked, amusement leaks into your tone, you chuckle. Perhaps, you liked his expression more than you should of. Your eyes begins to linger on him for a while before adverting his gaze; a crimson flame flickers in those eyes of his.
He studies you arranging his flowers with those godly crafted hands of yours. Although these flowers were enticingly pleasant to look at, Oikawa very much preferred to gaze at you instead. So he carves a dreamy smile on his face, like he was back in high school daydreaming during an afternoon math lesson. His train of thoughts ended when you finished his bouquet of roses.
"So, is it for a special someone?", you ask.
He softens his gaze, "Yeah, really special."
Oikawa leans in, his eyes beginning to burn even more than before. You noticed the little gap between his lips and yours; the air exchanging a mixture of your earthly scent with his fragrance of evergreen oak. For a moment, you couldn't seem to look away. Oikawa held a breath before interlacing his fingers with your hand, gifting you the roses. It seems like the sunset returned to Oikawa's cheeks and so did yours.
"I'm in love with you, and this time, I'm serious."
