The whole apartment is filled with plants. There just isn’t enough space on the tiny balcony for all the plants that Brie wants to keep, so they sprawl out indoors, into every room. (Alicia doesn’t mind, though. If she did, Brie doesn’t know she’d even be able to live with it. The whole plant thing is… pretty extensive.)
Vines creep up the big window in the living room, green and bright and soaking in the sunlight that streams in through the glass. A rainbow of flowers sit proud in their pots in front of the window above the sink. The bathroom windowsill is home to tiny potted succulents, their own kind of beautiful in their unusual shades of red-purple and blue-green. Hanging baskets dangle from either side of the front door, their contents ever so slightly spilling out over their rims.
Brie could use her magic to create even more – it’s why she’s so enthralled by plants in the first place, after all: the fact that they relate to the kind of magic she’s capable of – but somehow, that feels dishonest. She’ll use it to help them thrive, to keep them alive once they’ve reached their full potential, but not to simply make them grow, and certainly not to make them appear. She works hard on her garden, even if most of it is inside rather than out.
The sunflowers, though. The sunflowers are outside, towering over all the other plants out on the balcony. They’re Brie’s pride and joy. She buys seeds in every possible colour she can find them in – yellow and red and orange and black – and keeps their meaning close to her heart: adoration, happiness, longevity, loyalty. They represent everything that Brie has with Alicia, and they’re just as stunningly bright and beautiful as she is.
They’re Brie’s favourite because they remind her of Alicia more than any of the other flowers do, and they’re Alicia’s favourite because they’re Brie’s.
(Sometimes, Brie feels almost guilty choosing a favourite out of all her plants, but Alicia’s her favourite person, so it’s only right that the sunflowers take first place when it comes to them, too.)
Brie’s best times are when it’s just the two of them – just the two of them and all the colours of the plants around them (though that’s mostly green), and the afternoon sun shining in through the windows, lighting everything up. That’s what Alicia thrives on, what she needs to work her own magic: the sun. She doesn’t use it often, says she has to save it up so she still has enough energy when the weather’s bad. She keeps her word about it, too: Brie can only come up with a handful of occasions when she’s seen Alicia anything other than sunny and at least a little upbeat. Brie’s grateful for it: she needs her sun so her flowers can grow.
It’s one of those afternoons now, a long weekend’s lazy Sunday. The atmosphere is cool, calm, clean, and they’re on the couch, quiet, but they don’t have to be loud. They don’t even have to be talking to enjoy each other’s company.
When Alicia’s lips press to hers, Brie feels her magic pulsing through her veins, tingling in her fingertips, and she can sense the unfurling of petals around them.