Red Boys // Red Feelings

Flower Boys

My name is Sakurai Akio, and my life changed forever when I met him.

That nuisance, Roga-ru E-ba-ri.

He isn't important right now. What is important is me, and my flowers. I'm a florist, and I love my work, and my shop.

My shop that just got destroyed by the earlier named meathead. He barrelled in with a sword and officers giving him a chase. Before I could figure out what was going on, he was ducked behind my counter, using me as a shield.

I only caught his name when someone yelled it. The police were shouting at him to come out from behind me, and he was holding me into his chest. When I attempted to push him off and away, he only clung to me tighter.

"Come out from behind the counter, son," yelled, through a megaphone, in my shop and right into my ears. I opened my mouth and then closed it, rather akin to a fish. Not like I could speak to contest it anyway.

The looming mass of a human behind me shifted, and I saw the glint of metal beside me. "No," he says back in an accent I don't recognize. "I am staying right here, with my boyfriend."

Boyfriend? Boyfriend? I shake my head harshly and slip out from his grasp. The perks of being short, I suppose. He watches me in shock and moves his sword over his body, pulling a face that honestly made me almost shit myself. Getting a good look at him, he's scary.

Notebook. Notebook, where did my notebook go? I slap around my pockets and feel it. When I take it out, I hurriedly flip through the pages and grab a pen to scrawl something out. Chicken scratch, but I'm in a rush.

'I have never met this man before in my life.'

I hold the page up and show it to the other men, puffing my cheeks out. All I want, right now, is for them, including this tower behind me, to get out.

The "Rogaru" guy stared at it with a puzzled expression.

'What, can you not fucking read?'

He looks down at my notebook and then up to me, confusion only growing worse. He puts his sword down and leans in.

"What does that say? I can't read Japanese."

This bitch. Where the hell is this guy from, then? Strange accent, can't read, gi-fucking-NORMOUS sword. Who the hell carries swords around anymore?

Since he can't read Japanese, I don't have any more ways to tell him that I can't fucking talk to him and explain. Not that I want to, anyway. I look to the officers with an expression that reads 'help me', and one of them clears his throat. Intimidating guy looks towards them and, once again, raises his sword.

"Kid, you're under arrest for destruction of property, theft of property, and endangerment of civilians."

Wait. KID? No way. He can't be any shorter than two meters. How is he a god damn kid? I look back over to the man who spoke and hastily write something down.

'How old is he?'

He reads my writing and stifles a stout laugh. Tower took the opportunity to roll out from behind the counter and behind me again. How the hell is he so fast?

"The kid is fifteen," he said to me. No fucking way. FIFTEEN.

"Are we talking about me?" he says, putting his sword back into...whatever it's called. He puts it away.

"My name is Rogal. I'm fifteen. That's all you need to know about me."

I'm too shocked to move. Speechless, if you will. Hah, funny joke; I haven't spoken for the past five years.

"You can't arrest me, my school will just help me out again." The tower speaks up, and my attention is drawn to him. School?

The officers look around between themselves, and they do a ridiculous looking huddle. Murmurs rise, and I watch as the behemoth takes this opportunity and their distraction to fucking dip. He's out, a blur of dark skin and pale hair and red cape, down the street impossibly quickly for his size.

There he goes. The officers looked up, just in time to see him run off and towards...the school I go to. The same school. 

They give me a quick glance, and then they're gone. Chasing after the.. kid, apparently.

Now I'm all alone, again. Finally. I close my notebook and shove it into my pocket, and then I look around at the mess that the man that disappeared within seconds made when he first came in. My... poor flowers. God, people are just not careful these days.

Whatever, gives me some distraction after the horrible shit that I witnessed. And with that, the thought of him just calling me his boyfriend out of the blue comes back. I wish it would disappear. I don't want anything to do with him, anyway.

I begin walking around the store and picking up shattered objects and glass. The fact that the shards could leave bloody cuts on my hands doesn't scare me at all. Back to the usual working, I guess. I hope that the Rogaru guy doesn't return at all.

Looking up from what I was doing, I once again surveyed the damage that had been done around my shop. Broken windows, snapped stems. What an absolute whirlwind, and I note that if I do ever see him again, he's paying for damages.

I sigh and turn to grab a broom to help with the mess, though a crunch that isn't glass under my boot draws my attention. When I look down, my expression and my mood fall further. Flowers on the ground— a bundle of lavender and a broken rose.

My favorite flowers. He'd destroyed my favorites.

He's definitely going to pay for the damage that he's done. I kneel on the ground, and carefully scoop up the flowers with my hands. I can only imagine the pain they're going through.

It's not like I'm going to follow after them, so I get back up to walk to the counter. Too much to do, my wrists shake a few times. I'm anxious; I'm stimming.

The only worse turn of events that could happen would be the tower coming back to my shop. Not like I didn't expect it, so tell me: why, when I looked down to take care of some paperwork, did I jump back in surprise when I heard that same strange accent again?

I hadn't noticed the bootsteps, not that they were loud, nor had I noticed the sound of crunching glass. I look up, surprised, and have to continue looking up to get to his...oddly small face.

My first reaction is surprise, and then rage. With no hesitation and the limited parkour skills I have I scramble over the counter, rather unimpressively, and catch him off guard. He steps back. I step forward. His back is almost against the wall.

The guy looks nervous. I don't care. I place my hands on the wall, both on each side of his body. The worst part is eye contact.

I look up at him, and he looks down at me.

"I came back to apologize to you. About the flowers."

Oh, really? He looks away from me, towards the ground at both of our pairs of boots.

I open my mouth to say something, pause for a moment, then clear my throat. It ends badly; I'm coughing, wheezing and sputtering instead of speaking.

I cover my mouth to avoid accidentally spitting at him. Once it's over, I turn back to him, seeing his cheeks turn dark. I grit my teeth for a moment before I attempt to speak again.

"If that's all..." I hear him trail off, "I'm leaving now."

"Loser," I say, my voice hoarse.