Lance ran his fingertips against the misty pedals of the flowers in his shop-still cold from being sprayed with water just half an hour earlier. He had rows upon rows of different flowers, though his pale green Peruvian lilies were his pride and joy. Favorites, if you will. Roses and carnations of assorted colours and sizes grew in the large windows of the small shop.

Business was slow today. It was a dreary type of the day; the kind where you can wake up and already feel the molasses-like progression of time. And to make it worse, Lance had the daunting sensation that something terrible was going to happen today; so he was kind of relieved when the odd looking mullet boy walked into the shop.

Lance fiddled with his name tag until he deemed it perfectly resting on his red apron. "Hey, what can I get for...you...?"

Looking up into Mullet Boy's cold, dark eyes was the worst mistake of Lance McClain's fucking life.

He gave Lance an awkward smile and slipped him a very terrible sketch of a flower bouquet. "You do small arrangements right?" he asked, digging around his satchel for his wallet. Lance wasn't the best at taking orders-they always confused him-preferring to construct the arrangement instead.

"Yeah, we do. I need your full name, the date you want it by and what flowers you want it to have." He studied the rough sketch before scribbling something on it.

"Keith?"

"What?"

"My name...it's Keith Kogane. I'd like them done before the twenty fifth of..." Lance stopped paying attention; instead, he focused on the way Keith's lips moved when he spoke. He caught himself staring just in time for the other boy to raise a brow.

"What are you staring at?" he asked, letting out a soft, awkward laugh. "Is there something on my face?"

The Cuban shook his head a few times, straightening his posture. "Fuck, sorry. I just...I was staring at your...nose. It's a very nice nose. Perfectly structured." His nose? Really Lance?

"Right...yeah. Well, like I said before, I really don't care what flowers you use for the arrangement. I'm not specialized in flower-olgy."

"Floristry," Lance corrected.

"Whatever. Just have it done before the date I gave you."

"Yeah, 'course. Have a good day and all that jazz."

Keith chuckled, giving Lance a little salute before heading to the door. His hand was on the handle, pushing it out; but before he could leave, Lance stopped him. "Wait wait! I want to give you something."

Keith stops, watching Lance frantically run behind the counter, and over to a bucket of Peruvian Lilies. He picks a light purple one and hands it to Keith. "Thought you'd might like this." The grin on his face was notorious for being devilish, and his blue eyes glinted with admiration for the male in front of him.

"Thanks, Lance." Keith gives him a sheepish smile, which he quickly wiped away when he cleared his throat. "I better get going. Midterms and all."

"Fuck! Yeah, I guess uh...I'll call you when the arrangement is ready." He brushed his hands on his red apron and waves farewell to Keith, returning to his post behind the counter.

Keith hummed in response as he pushed the door open, and headed out into the bitter cold day. Lance stared wistfully as Keith left the small floral shop; he hadn't noticed the love struck smile on his face until his mother patted his shoulder and brought him back to reality.

"Daydreaming again, mijo?" She asked, ruffling Lance's curly chocolate hair. She picked up the small piece of paper with Keith's order and read it; her brow quirked as she slowly put the pieces together. "Met a boy, eh?"

"Yeah...God mom, please don't make the bouquet cheesy." The Cuban whined, turning to his mother. She had always teased her son about the little crushes he's had-but this time...

This time, Lance felt different. This wasn't puppy love, or those tiny crushes people get when somebody does something cute.

He felt like he was falling, rapidly.

"Alright, alright." His mother, Sofia, chuckled, giving her son a heart filled peck on the head.

The day for Lance drifted almost as fast as his thoughts. Before he knew it, the bright winter sun had swapped places with the cold, silver moon.

Silver.

Like Keith's eyes.

Lance felt his face heat up, and a dorky smile appeared on his lips. God, he knew he would fall for someone one day, but damn, this was much worse than he thought it'd be. It was painful, and it made him confused, and giddy, and excited to wake up. This feeling of letting himself like what he'd seen in Keith so far made him swell with airlessness and excitement; his heart didn't feel too heavy, and he felt invincible.

A short, sharp cough ripped from his throat. Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

Finally, Lance was able to stop the coughing. He cleared his throat and had one of his co-workers take over counter duty so he could go on break. Lance poured himself a cup of water-he chugged it.

Deciding to take a walk outside, Lance headed out, grabbing a sweater and a hat. His curls stuck out of the black beanie in tendrils, curling around the edges of the fabric; his sweater was a simple pale blue with a little black cloud in the center. One of his hands was in the pocket of his sweater, the other scrolling through his Instagram. Lance wore distressed black jeans, the fabric hugging his lower body almost perfectly; the outfit was paired with black and white Converse.

For late November, it was quite rare to see snow, but since December was coming quickly, it wasn't all too surprising. Fuck, Lance should've worn something warmer than this.

As the tiny white flakes started to fall, they caught in Lance's hair and eyelashes. On his hat and on his eyebrows; there were almost as many snowflakes on his face now as there were freckles. When the snow started to fall more, he put his phone away and headed to the local park.

There was a large weeping willow tree at the center of the park. Lance made his way over to it, knowing that many people hung out under there-correction, nobody hung out there. It was Lances' spot, and his alone. Nobody dared to disrupt that.

The Cuban made his way under the trees leaves and sat down against the trunk. He would spend most of his breaks here, under the leaves of this massive tree. It didn't provide much protection from the elements, but it did supply a sort of whimsical comfort. A fairy tale like euphoria. Lance rested his head against the tree and closed his sea blue eyes.

He ignored the scratching in his throat.

He ignored the way his breathing hitched when his chest started to ache.