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The bell jingles overhead. Kiyotaka looks up from the counter, hastily adjusting his name tag. To his surprise, it’s a rough looking man with an obnoxious hairstyle and long coat adorned with intricate designs on the sleeves. He stops to look at some roses, hesitantly sniffs one, then ambles up to the counter. Kiyotaka sighs. The last time someone like him came, it involved a broken vase and ruined shipment of petunias. That had been a day.
“Can I help you?” he musters a smile. The man shrugs and avoids looking at Kiyotaka.
“Umm… I need a flower.” He mumbles.
“Okay…what kind? We have a lot.” Kiyotaka gestures to the bright, freshly printed catalog on the counter. “You can start with a color or a type of flower. Or you can just tell me what you need them for and we can go from there.”
The man picks up the catalog and squints at it. Looking closely, Kiyotaka notices he is kind of attractive, in that rough bad boy way. His eyes wander over the gold designs on the man’s sleeves, wondering if there’s a meaning for each one, or if the man just thought it looked cool. Before he can open his mouth and ask, the catalog is shoved back in his hands.
“Sunflowers.” Is all the man says. Kiyotaka nods and hops off his stool.
“How many do you want?” he asks as he opens the door to what he calls the flower fridge. Cold air rushes out, as well as the smell of fresh petals.
“One.”
Kiyotaka turns. “Just one? Are you sure? I can make a quick arrangement if you’re pressed for time.”
“Nah. One’s fine.” The man shrugs and digs his hands in his pockets. Kiyotaka can’t help but frown. He picks out one sunflower, closes the door, and sets it on the counter.
“Okay. 3.75.”
As he collects the change, he looks up at the man again, surprised to see he’s looking at him already. Face flushing, he quickly glances back down and counts everything out. He presses it into the man’s hands, along with the flower, and feels a slight twinge of regret that he has to let such a fine specimen go.
“Is it a romantic thing?” Kiyotaka blurts out before he can stop himself. The man turns.
“The fuck you just say?” he snaps. His eyes narrow, fingers tightening around the lone sunflower.
Kiyotaka clears his throat and decides to explain himself before he freezes completely. “The single flower. Is it a kind of romantic gesture?” he looks at his hands and continues. “Normally I get orders for big bouquets. Multiple kinds of flowers. Not just one. It seems so…I don’t know, intimate or something.” He glances back up, noticing the man is just watching him, head tilting slightly. So many customers, but Kiyotaka already knows he will forever remember this one.
The man opens his mouth, then closes it, considering. “No. It ain’t nothin’ special.” He says finally. Then he turns back around and leaves, slamming the door behind him. As he hops off the steps and to his bike, Kiyotaka focuses on the faint yellow of that one flower, growing fainter and fainter until it’s completely gone.
…
He was back.
Actually, the man was always back. Every day, at precisely 3:32, the bell would jingle and there would be the man, who Kiyotaka learned was named Mondo. Mondo Oowada. This had been an accidental realization, since he had glanced at the man’s debit card-he had told Kiyotaka he was out of cash that day-and saw his name there, in silver letters.
“Oowada, huh?” Kiyotaka had said in hopes of making conversation. “Sounds familiar. I think I got a bunch of orders to send to someone with that name once.”
Mondo just shrugged, which Kiyotaka noticed he always did when he didn’t feel like talking much. “Must be a coincidence.”
“Yeah.” Kiyotaka had muttered, handing Mondo the card back. “A coincidence.” A word, Kiyotaka quickly learned, could not be used to describe Mondo quickly becoming his star customer.
Because of his increase in purchases, Kiyotaka only grew more puzzled at Mondo’s actions. Every day he bought a single flower: any attempts on Kiyotaka’s part to make a discount bouquet was quickly shut down. And it always had to be yellow. Not orange. Not red. Yellow. The first day was a sunflower, then a fresh tulip, then a daisy. Mondo was working his way through the entire catalog, either because he really wanted to impress someone or just because it seemed fun. Knowing Mondo, it could be a little bit of both.
Today, Mondo was interested in the marigolds. Kiyotaka picked out the biggest one in the flower fridge and smiled.
“I’ve always liked marigolds.” He said as he punched some keys on the register. “4 even.” This was another change: Kiyotaka noticed Mondo rarely had coins on him, just bills, so he took to rounding it off to make it easier on the man.
Mondo handed him a five. “Why?”
Kiyotaka paused, raising an eyebrow. “Why what?”
“Why do you always like marigolds?” Mondo pocketed his dollar then leaned forward on the counter. Unlike all those others times, he did not seem eager to leave in a hurry. Kiyotaka shifted and dared himself to look into Mondo’s lilac eyes.
“Well…because they’re so puffy! And they’re easy to grow because they thrive in any kind of soil. Plus they smell nice.” Without thinking, he picked up the flower and put it under Mondo’s nose. Mondo breathed deeply and smiled.
“Huh. I guess they do. I always thought all flowers kinda smelled the same.”
“Of course not! You should spend a day in the flower fridge! Then you’d know just how wrong your statement is!” Kiyotaka gestured widely around his little store, as if the building itself was proof.
“There’s better ways to spend time with me, ya know.” Mondo said softly, blushing. Are you flirting with me? Kiyotaka wondered, but didn’t dare say aloud.
“I guess so.” He said instead, putting the marigold down and straightening the catalog. “But if you’re ever super bored, I could give you a lesson on every single flower in the store.”
Mondo made a face, then laughed at Kiyotaka’s expression. “Sure. It’s a date.” He tapped his knuckles on the counter once then began to walk away. “See you around Kiyotaka.”
“Wait! How did you-“
“Your name tag, dumbass.” Mondo opened the door and turned around to shoot him a grin. “I can read ya know." He waved, then left, the familiar rev of his motorcycle filling the air. Kiyotaka bit his lip, trying to work but catching himself thinking about Mondo’s smile and the way he said his name. It’s a date, Mondo had said casually, but Kiyotaka could only hope it was a serious promise.
…
Days passed, and Mondo still came for his yellow flower. Although he began to linger longer and longer. He took to asking Kiyotaka questions about everything in the store, something Kiyotaka would find bothersome if anyone else tried it. But it was Mondo, who was surprisingly kind and mysterious in ways one would never think possible. Kiyotaka’s heart soared when he heard the bell jingle and always saw that big pompadour before anything else, his face always flushing when their fingers brushed or eyes met, goofy smiles becoming a trademark for both of them. Mondo had somehow planted himself into Kiyotaka’s life, not as a weed but as a beautiful blossom, glistening and sparkling in the sunlight of Kiyotaka’s eyes.
Then, one afternoon, Mondo came later than usual. He frowned, expression almost similar to the day he first came. Kiyotaka tried to question him as he rang up the single daffodil, but Mondo just sighed and shrugged.
“I can’t today, Kiyo. Sorry.”
The nickname, sweet and light in comparison to Mondo’s tone, made Kiyotaka’s heart ache with concern. He wanted to wrap the man in his arms and pepper him with kisses until that smile came back, but all he could do was clear the purchase and give Mondo the flower.
“What-“
“It’s on the house.” Kiyotaka whispered. “Take care, Mondo.”
Mondo just nodded and left, leaving Kiyotaka to tidy up, cash out today’s earnings, then lock up the store behind him. It was a quiet, cool night: summer was close, announcing itself with fresh flowers and lighter night skies. As he started the engine, Kiyotaka put the windows down and turned off the radio, opting for the quiet noises of the early evening instead.
Just like always, he passed the graveyard, which announced itself with the scent of fresh flowers. Kiyotaka felt a stab of guilt as he remembered that area alone supplied him with about 70% of his income. He slowed for a stop light, then did a quick double take when he saw a bike parked near the cemetery fence. A long coat with gold designs was draped over the handlebars. He flicked on his turn signal and parked behind the motorcycle, cutting the engine and taking a breath before getting out. This is crazy, he told himself as he walked in, instantly spotting Mondo near the back. His footsteps were quiet on the smooth cement, and he tried to not notice how often he saw his trademark bouquets proudly displayed on gravestones.
“Kiyo? Is that you?”
He looked up and saw Mondo, beckoning for him to come closer. He did so, then sat next to him. Instead of a neat vase, there were flowers covering the gravestone. So this is why he buys them, Kiyotaka realized. He leaned forward to read the name: DAIYA OOWADA: JUNE 1, 1980-NOVEMBER 25, 2010. In smaller letters, it said: ONE CRAZY DIAMOND. Mondo chuckles softly and lightly pats the grave.
“Daiya was my brother.” He whispers, so quietly Kiyotaka had to move closer to hear. “Craziest son of a bitch you’d ever meet, but he was loyal as hell to the people he loved. I remember being in awe of him as a kid, wanting to be just like him when I grew up.” He laughed, a raspy soft laugh that’s often tinged with sadness. “He taught me how to ride my motorcycle. How to do my hair. Hell, how to talk to girls, even though he soon found out I wasn’t interested.” A pause. On impulse, Kiyotaka wraps his hand around Mondo’s, squeezing it gently. Mondo squeezes back and takes in a shuddering breath. “Then one day we were fuckin around, not payin’ attention to anythin’, and there was a huge truck. It was comin’ straight towards me. And Daiya…he…” Kiyotaka felt a tear splash onto his hand, then another. “He pushed me out of the way. That stupid son of a bitch saved my life. And look how the universe repaid him.” They both look at the grave, at the flowers scattered on top, then Mondo suddenly leans into Kiyotaka and begins sobbing. Real, heavy sobs that echo around the empty cemetery and go straight to Kiyotaka’s heart.
“And it could’ve easily been me. Every fuckin day I wish it would’ve been, because the world would be so much better with him than me.”
His words hang in the air for a bit, then he lifts his head up and wipes his face with his hand.
“Fuck. I shouldn’t be putting all this on ya. M’ sorry.”
Kiyotaka shakes his head. “No! It’s okay. It’s good to talk to someone.” He grabs Mondo’s hands again, trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I…I appreciate it. And your story is safe with me. And for what it’s worth…I think the world is absolutely beautiful with you in it.” Mondo’s eyes widen and they both blush. Kiyotaka continued, “I know you’re upset about what happened, but to put yourself through such guilt….that’s horrible. And I have a feeling Daiya, wherever he is right now, wants you to be happy. Or at least try to be.”
A comfortable silence rises up, then Mondo sniffles and gives him a tiny smile. “That’s the cheesiest thing I ever heard. But also the sweetest.”
“I’m glad.”
“Kiyo?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
Kiyotaka smiles and gives into the urge to lean on Mondo’s shoulder. “You’re welcome. You’re so very welcome.”
…
Mondo is no longer a simple flower. He is a steady oak, taking root from difficult soil and flourishing in the bustle of spring. Not even the worst storm could knock him down, for he has the ability to grow back even stronger. And it’s that strength that makes him so damn attractive in Kiyotaka’s eyes. So attractive, in fact, Kiyotaka often catches himself daydreaming about the man when he was supposed to be working. The clock, always an acquaintance, became a close friend because it showed how long until Mondo would walk through the door, and Kiyotaka’s afternoon (no-day, no scratch that, life) would be made.
Today was a little different. Instead of coming in the afternoon, Mondo showed up precisely when Kiyotaka opened shop and proudly stated he wasn’t leaving until closing time. It was comforting to know he wouldn’t just be a customer today, but a friend. He even made himself somewhat useful by sorting through shipments and polishing displays, as well as giving Kiyotaka some much needed company.
Now, they were sprawled out on the floor, Kiyotaka setting up a bride to be’s bouquet while Mondo lied down and stared at the ceiling. The radio was on low volume, classical music filtering through the old speakers, and the sunlight brightened Kiyotaka’s little workspace. It was a cozy moment: him, his flowers, and a good friend. So simple, yet so dense with positive vibes: Kiyotaka secretly wished he could tuck it away in his pocket.
“Oi Kiyo. What are you putting in there?”
He looked up from his work to see what Mondo was pointing to. “Oh these?” he lightly touched the delicate white puffballs. “It’s baby’s breath. They make for great filler without being too obvious.”
Mondo huffed, a sign he thought something was stupid. “That’s a dumbass name. I wouldn’t want to think about baby’s breath if I was getting married.”
If? Kiyotaka thought, but quickly shook away. “Maybe so. But it’s more about the appearance than the name!” He added before going back to his work. Mondo shrugged then laid back down.
“I guess. Are you almost done? I’m hungry.”
“We have tons of snacks right here, we’re not going anywhere for lunch.” Mondo’s sudden appearance in Kiyotaka’s life meant an introduction to all kinds of junk food. At first, Kiyotaka politely refused, but he soon found himself grabbing one powdered donut, then another, then another, until the bag was empty. It was a vicious cycle, but very delicious. He heard the definite sound of rustling, then crunching.
“Hey. Are you gonna use those flowers over there?” Mondo asked through a mouthful. Kiyotaka glanced up at the pile of slightly bent, misshapen roses he tossed out.
“No. They won’t fit.” He snipped a loose petal off a carnation and tucked it into the cord before adding, “And swallow your food before talking, you sound gross.”
“Can I have them? The roses?”
This time, Kiyotaka stopped his work completely. He raised an eyebrow at Mondo’s serious expression. “If you want them, although I don’t see why. I thought you only wanted yellow flowers for Daiya.”
“They’re not for Daiya.” Mondo snapped before quickly regaining composure. He took a breath. “I just…like them.”
Kiyotaka chuckled at Mondo’s slightly red face, then said, “Of course. Take as many as you would like.”
Mondo leaned over and bunched them in his hands, grinning. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Kiyotaka murmured, already getting sucked back into his work.
Another hour passed. Kiyotaka finished his bouquet and the bride, a pretty girl with dark blue hair and a musical voice, picked it up. She was sweet and chattered excitedly about her wedding, and how the groom was going to play her a special song and all of her friends were going to be there (she had even invited Kiyotaka and Mondo, but they both declined). Her happiness was contagious, so much, in fact, Kiyotaka couldn’t suppress his grin for a while after.
Soon after, Kiyotaka closed the store-he let Mondo flip the sign-and began to gather all of his things.
“Well it’s certainly been a day. We best be getting-“
“WAIT!” Mondo bellowed from the flower fridge. Kiyotaka startled, dropping his bag. The man poked his head out. “Fuck. Sorry. I scared ya. But just stay there a sec.”
There was some rustling, then Mondo walked out with a single white rose. “For you.”
Kiyotaka just stared. “I…I don’t understand-“
“It’s a romantic gesture, see?"
He blinked at the familiar words, then a steady smile grew on his face. He remembered? He could hardly believe it. He reached out to take the flower and giggled beside himself. “Thank you.”
Mondo wrapped his arms around Kiyotaka, prompting a slight squeak of protest. “Thank you Kiyo. For being here. For lettin’ me in. For listenin’.”
Kiyotaka laughed and pulled Mondo in closer. “Anytime, Mondo.” He whispered against the man’s chest. My oak, my strength, you think it is I that saved you? “Anytime.”