Chapter Text
The little flower shop always smelled amazing, the air heady with fragrant rose and hyacinth and— Stolas' personal favorite—lavender. It was a small space, made even smaller by the abundance of flora scattered throughout. The first time he’d come in here he’d been overwhelmed by how much it resembled a jungle, and that opinion was stuck fast in his psyche. No matter how much the plants changed, the earthy, living vibe of the store stayed the same.
He did his usual lap, looking at all the new products. He was in here practically weekly, but it felt like there was something new to look at every single time he came in. It was a nice break, especially to stave off the aggravation of his second client of the day neither calling to cancel nor showing up.
“Can I help you?” The voice broke through his reverie, tone clearly annoyed. Stolas turned to look at the counter and found himself looking at a man he’d never met before. He was usually here in the afternoon after all his clients were done for the day, and he was used to seeing Loona sitting behind the checkout, eyes mostly on her phone until he approached to pay for something. This must be the elusive owner, whom Loona alternated between calling Dad and Blitzø.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so used to Loona being here.” Stolas offered a timid smile as he attempted to wave away his own impoliteness.
Blitzø narrowed his eyes, and Stolas was struck by how pretty they were—soft red and yellow that managed to glow even in the sunlight streaming through the windows—so much so that it took him a second to register that he’d spoken. “What do you want with my daughter?”
Stolas let out a high-pitched laugh, that even his ears flagged as half-panicked. “No, no, nothing like that. I’m just usually here in the afternoon when Loona is and she usually just lets me wander for a bit before I buy anything.”
“I typically don’t allow loitering,” Blitzø said as Stolas watched his eyes roam up and down his body. It made him self-conscious in a way that had butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. “But I guess I can make an exception this one time.”
He could feel heat in his cheeks, and he dipped into a bow to hide the color he knew would be evident. “Thank you muchly.”
“You’re a strange one, huh?” Blitzø asked. He’d gone back to whatever it was he’d been doing before Stolas came in, something with his hands that was obscured by the counter.
“I’ve been told that before, yes.”
“You must come in here pretty often, if you know Loona by name. She tries to give that out as little as possible.”
Stolas turned around to study a collection of small houseplants. He’d considered getting one before, instead of the flowers he was choosing now, but he appreciated the ephemeral nature of the bouquets. He could change them as the mood suited him. It helped that he didn’t have to look in those damnable eyes anymore. “I work in the tattoo parlor next door and I like bringing a little bit of life into the place. It tends to get a bit drab in there, what with all the high powered lighting and such.”
“You’re a tattoo artist?” The incredulity in Blitzø’s voice was something he was used to, being free of tattoos as a tattoo artist was uncommon.
“I know, I know,” Stolas replied as he waved a hand. “I don’t look like one, but I promise I am.”
Thankfully, Blitzø seemed to accept this with little issue. “What kind of tattoos do you do?”
It was a surprisingly thoughtful question. Most people he interacted with wanted the external details. Longest tattoo, do people bleed, things that really had little to nothing to do with him. It was a reality he’d come to expect, although that didn’t make him like it. This though, he could talk about this for hours, if he was allowed. “I specialize in celestial designs, including hiding prophetic constellations within a more general piece of art.”
“Sounds fancy. Got any pics?”
Stolas almost threw his phone across the store trying to pull it out of his pocket as quickly as possible. He opened his camera roll and went to the album for his pieces before placing his phone down on the counter. Up close he could see that Blitzø was wrapping twine around his hand multiple times and then cutting a piece off and placing it in a little basket. He did most of the motion without even looking, and something about the competence behind that did funny things to Stolas' brain.
Blitzø flicked through a dozen or so photos (twelve, to be exact, not that Stolas was counting or anything) before he sat back and resumed what he was doing. “Pretty impressive. Your art style really suits the design.”
Stolas cleared his throat before speaking, but he didn’t miss the way Blitzø smirked at the sound. “Thank you, I’m really passionate about my work.”
“Same, believe it or not.” He gestured outward at the sales floor with a hand partially wrapped in the twine, it stood out stark against both the red and white parts of his skin.
“Oh, I do believe it. I’m in here often enough that it shines through, and it’s fairly easy to tell Loona is not the enthusiast.”
Blitzø laughed, and it was wild and carefree and Stolas would do anything to hear it again. “She puts up with it well enough, but point taken.”
In a split second decision Stolas decided to flip the script on him. “How did you get into all of this?”
Blitzø got somber for a moment. “My mom’s two greatest passions were flowers and horses. Unfortunately, I can’t stand Wrath’s dry-ass fucking desert so here I am in Pride with a flower shop. I like to think she’d be proud of me, she always hated the circus.”
Stolas had to practically physically stop himself from asking more questions about that particular bit of information. “Do you have a favorite flower?”
“Lavender. I think it has one of the nicest smells and it looks good in almost any arrangement because it doesn’t have a bad side.”
He blinked a couple times in surprise before he responded. “Lavender is also my favorite.”
“Really?” Blitzø asked with a sly grin. He reached over to the bouquet on the counter, plucked out a stem of lavender and slid it into the pocket on the front of Stolas' shirt. “Then that’s for you, handsome.”
“I-oh, um, thank you,” Just as he was starting to find a rhythm to their conversation, Blitzø had flustered him again. He looked anywhere but at his face as he stuttered out his thanks and slipped out the front door.
It wasn’t until he was back in his studio, lavender stem pressed against his cheek, that he realized he hadn’t bought anything.