gardenias; saiki k.

000; the flower shop

AS THE SUN slowly fell off the surface of the amber sky — the familiar melodies of trivial chatter, distant footsteps, and raucous laughter seeped through the ears of those who found themselves walking home alone.

Returning home with no one to walk beside was a routine Kusuo found himself wanting to do more often. Even then, the hundreds of voices that rang irritatingly in his head always stayed, like a rash that wouldn't go away.

There was never a moment where he couldn't hear the disarray of people's thoughts without having to wear the germanium ring, and wearing that brings another wave of problems that come rushing with it.

All he wanted was an hour of silence, just a wink of sleep, even just a fleeting moment of peace would be enough.

.

.

.

"Another bad day?" that familiar and gentle voice asked.

There wasn't an answer to the question, nothing but a small nod from the psychic — but nothing needed to be said when he was there.

A flower shop. Quaint and dainty, almost run-down. Run by one high-school student, it's quite a humble little place. It's located in a secluded area of the town. No matter what time of the day, a crowd is never seen here. Two or three people at most can be found themselves passing by, usually just the same elderly couple going for a stroll or a random middle-aged businessman who got confused with his directions.

It was quiet there. Though Kusuo could still hear people's thoughts, the voices weren't as loud, and they didn't clash with each other as much. It was the closest yet furthest place from home where it's near enough so he could still walk back, but also not near enough to listen to his neighbors argue for the hundredth time.

Within the modest establishment itself, was an array of flowers and bouquets. Blossoms of all kinds sat comfortably in all the corners of the small space. The furniture, though mixed and matched, complimented the ivory blooms and the colorful dahlias. The counters were birch, but the cabinets and floors were oak.

Fake sage vines adorned the cracks on the wall, in hopes of hiding those imperfections. It was glued shamelessly on the walls with tape. Aside from a cracked wall, the ceiling was popped with stipples and ungracefully embellished with a buzzing light bulb - barely hanging on to its life.

There was a mixed scent of flowers, cologne, and fabric softener. You'd expect this to be jarring for the nose, but it mixes with each other so well - melting into a lovely fragrance that brushed against each other, as if paint mixing on a canvas.

Despite all the nooks and crannies that roam, the place felt homely, it felt that a real person decorated and spent time here. Years of nurturing and tending to. Nothing inside here felt like a soulless corporate business. The owner made this store a home, too. A home not just for himself, but also for the flowers.

A "home" for Kusuo.

Unfortunately, most people don't ever enter this little store.

But maybe it's better that way.

This sweet but decaying shop was Kusuo's place of comfort.

Well, rather he was Kusuo's place of comfort.

He was none other than the shop owner himself, [ name ] [ last name ]. A boy who was quite average in most things. His features, his grades, his friends, his abilities.. everything. But even then - there was this.. aura around him. Kusuo didn't know how to describe it, or what words to use.

But after the being entangled into each other's lives by chance, there was something else he had noticed about [ name ] - aside from his tender scent and his gentle voice...

Good grief...

This flower store may have been the worst — and best thing Kusuo had ever involved himself in.