Stars & Plants : TreeHole | BFB Fanfic (TPOT) (BFB)

study session.

Tree had sworn, had it not been for the passion he had for his profession, he would've quit Uni long ago.

"Hey, do you think I look better in this sweater?" He asked, inspecting the seams of his shoes.

"Huh? Yeah, it looks good." Pen, who hadn't even glanced at the other man, adjusted his hair as he continued browsing through his phone.

He sighed, turning the doorknob. "Forget I asked." The jingle of his keys followed him as he shut the door behind.

Tree walked to the parking lot, tapping the hood of the car before getting in. He unlocked the door and slid inside, inhaling the sweet scent of leather that lived in the seats even after 7 years. He started up the Toyota, the inside was silent; other than the soft murmur of the engine heard from the other side.

He rolled down the window from his seat; Tree savored the air hitting his face as he drove. He didn't care how the music he played in the car was drowned out by the sound of the rushing wind against his ears. He cruised over to the Yoyle Uni, windows open, welcoming the warm early-spring air.

—

Exhausted was the only word Tree could describe his current situation.

Tree wasn't exactly consistent in turning in his schoolwork. Either he would complete it late or just not complete it as a whole. Some days he would have to make up a few lesson days just to complete some assignments or just write down notes in general. He did enjoy the silence in the classrooms though.

After he had finished his weekend make-up classes, Tree had trekked across the long hallway before he halted at a corkboard that grabbed his attention near the lobby of the uni.

Although he already had a job to tend to at his garden center, he seemed interested in the simplistic poster cover of a newly formed club at the uni.

Death Prevention?

Tree has always despised the thought of other people killing each other, or just death in general.

Monday after school.

"Huh," Tree rubbed his chin. "Convenient enough."

Those were the days he was off from work.

"It's not like I have much to do anyway.." He grabbed a packet of the club's guidelines and crumpled them into his carry-on bag, rushing over to the garden center.

—

The soft jingle of the chimes echoed throughout the empty room, followed by footsteps and the creak of the door behind them. Tree flipped on a few lights mainly in his work space, most of the building was already lit up by the sunlight for his precious plants. He plopped down his bag onto a nearby stool, creating a circular motion with his shoulders and proceeding to stretch.

Tree was the only person who worked in the garden center, but he was content with it. He thought bossing around multiple people and having to work with others was a hassle; and rather preferred it done himself anyway. The business was passed down to him by his ancestors who had previously owned the garden. Additionally, when passed down, this also included the wealth in which the business had to keep itself open.

Tree tapped a pen onto a price tag, forcing the ink out. With no luck in sight, he chucked the pen across the room into the trash bin and mentally applauded himself for his spectacular aim.

He dug through his carry-on, hoping to find any writing utensil. Tree was desperate to write down his prices of the newly grown plants he brought in some time ago.