fukuzawa/reader.
note: a songfic. rly rly flangsty. for
RoseMGottschalk.
Fukuzawa loved exactly five things in his life.
The Agency and its' people.
Cats.
Tea.
And you.
Oh, how much you'd stunned him through the years you've known and worked with each other, how many times you'd astonished him with your kindness, your integrity and that certain kind of shy compassion you offered everyone in your wake. Everyone who had a bad day, needed reassurance or threatened to drown in sorrow, you managed to cheer up with a simple flower you'd picked, and those never seemed to run out at all.
(He would never admit it to you, but he'd seen you outside once, after work, picking daisies and other little blossoms in a nearby park, twirling them around and inspecting the tiny flowers as if you only wanted the best for your colleagues.)
(He'd also never admit to you that, even with your tousled locks of (h/c) and how tattered your clothes were after an eventful day at the Agency, even with the indistinct scratches on your face and the remnants of inky black ashes on your skin, you were like a dream come true.)
(Simply because he, the founder of one of the most powerful organizations, the leader of a team of people willingly throwing themselves into risk and deathly situations, a literal legend, was afraid of three simple words.)
You weren't afraid of them.
Daisy, always climbing up the same tree
Finding love in all the wrong scenes, Daisy, you got me
Daisy, always walking down the wrong streets
Starting fires out of dead weeds, Daisy, you got me
Oh, you never found love.
Throughout the years of working at the Agency, you had a few dates and relationships with people you really seemed to like - judging by how you literally skipped into the office every morning out of sheer happiness -, and yet, it was always you who was more attached than the other. Even if they argued with you over petty things, or gave you the fault for something, or did anything that sent you crying into Haruno's arms in the evening, trying to hide a reddened cheek from Fukuzawa, you still kept holding onto your beliefs that love existed out there.
Even if you yourself never found true love, and that pained the stoic head of the Agency more than he'd want to concede.
One morning, before everyone arrived, Fukuzawa stood beside the window in his office, a cup of steaming tea in hand, his thoughts meandering across an all too familiar path.
Daisy, always dancing to the same beat
Broken records stuck on repeat, Daisy, you got me
Daisy, don't you know that you're amazing?
Broken heart just keeps on breaking, Daisy
"Haruno," he called out suddenly and turned to his assistant leaning against a wall with a similar cup in her grasp. "Can I ask you something?"
She nodded. "Sure."
Taking a deep breath, he began. "Why do good people choose the wrong people to be with?"
And almost immediately after voicing this issue that'd wandered through his mind since ages, he writhed around internally. Fukuzawa couldn't help but feel like a young, clueless teenage boy again, like an innocent child that sees a butterfly but doesn't realize the cruelty that its wings could break to the touch.
