The Language of Flowers
"How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?"
Makoto's mouth hangs open, unable to reply immediately. He's had troublesome customers and some odd requests before, but he's never had someone storm into his family's flower shop, slam twenty bucks on the counter, and ask something with as much barely-contained frustration as this woman has.
He's also never had someone come into his shop that immediately makes him think please go out with me.
The woman, who looks to be the same age as him—great!—lifts a hand to her head and threads her fingers through her locks. Her hair, long and straight and colored a soft, light lavender, slips through the gaps of her gloved hand, cascading down her shoulders and back. It mesmerizes him as she repeats the action over and over again, and his fingers twitch as he wonders what it would feel like. In contrast to the tinge of annoyance in her voice, her facial expression is a cold, hard wall that betrays none of her thoughts or feelings. But rather than pushing him away, it just makes Makoto more curious—what emotions are hiding behind that iron mask of hers, why keep them secret from the world?
And her eyes—dear lord, the things he could say about them. If her hair was soft and light then her eyes are harsh and bright, a vivid sea of amethysts shining and twinkling in the sunlight from the windows, staring straight at him as if they could see every inch of his soul, slowly filling with… confusion…?
Makoto blinks.
Right, he's in the shop. She asked him a question. He's supposed to be doing his job.
How long has he been staring? He's pretty glad the place is empty right now.
"U-Um," Makoto stammers as his brain is harshly pulled back to reality. What was the question again? Something about swearing with flowers. His eyes dart around the shop's shelves and survey the different species of plants they have on display. "There's not really any one flower that means… that, specifically…" He's sure he can think of something for her, though. He skirts around the edge of the counter—
Ouch, his hip! Gah, that table edge is a lot sharper than he thought!
Suck it up, don't embarrass yourself in front of her!
He bites the inside of his lip to keep the pain out of his expression and scampers about for the different flowers he needs.
After several minutes, he now has numerous pots spread out across the counter, each containing flowers of differing species and a slightly varying color from the others. "But if you had a bouquet of these flowers," Makoto continues, "I think that would work."
She doesn't reply immediately. Instead she inspects each pot of flowers, one by one, before finally turning to the florist standing beside her. "In all honesty, I hadn't expected you'd be able to fulfill such a request," she finally admits.
Makoto scratches his cheek. "Aha… I'm a bit of a dork when it comes to flowers."
He freezes the instant the words leave his mouth. Idiot, why would you admit that to a stranger? A really, really pretty stranger?
"O-Or, well, that's what my sister says," he adds on quickly. "Or said. When we were… When we were younger…" His face flushes a little in embarrassment. Great recovery. Absolutely flawless. From now on, his mouth requires permission from his brain before he speaks a single word.
Her lips curve upwards and Makoto's heart nearly skips a beat. "I'm thankful for it, regardless," she replies. She tucks some of her hair behind her ear and lets out a sigh. "The previous three flower shops I visited weren't able to help me."
The smile drops from her face and it fills Makoto with unexplainable dismay. "W-Well, I'm sure they did the best they could," he stammers. "I only know a useless thing like flower language because I was bored one night."
"I wouldn't exactly say such a skill is useless," the woman argues, folding her arms across her chest. "You never know when that knowledge could benefit you in life. For a florist like you, if you know the meaning behind flowers and can explain it to your customers, it can add more impact to a bouquet or arrangement." The small smile returns to her face. "And it certainly isn't useless to someone who desires a certain meaning over color or appearance, such as myself."
Makoto stares for a moment and then laughs. "I guess you're right! Honestly, yours is the first time I've taken a request where the meaning isn't a generic one of love or friendship." He looks down at the ground to try and hide his flushing face. "I'm pretty lucky to know what I do, otherwise I wouldn't really know where to start."
She reaches out with a gloved hand and gently strokes one of the flowers' petals. "So what do each of these mean?"
"Those are geraniums," he answers promptly, "which mean stupidity. Foxgloves mean insincerity, meadowsweet is uselessness, yellow carnations mean 'you have disappointed me', and orange lilies are for hatred." Makoto shrugs self-consciously at his knowledge. "It's a pretty striking bouquet—full of color and loathing."
He doesn't think his face has cooled down yet, but he can't avoid looking at her forever. Not to mention it would be pretty rude of him. He raises his head to see the woman smile with satisfaction. "Perfect. I'll take it."
"Can I ask who's it for?" Makoto says, a minute or so later, as he hands over her purchase in exchange for the money. "It's… quite a strong message."
For a few seconds, her expression remains blank and he thinks he isn't going to get an answer. But then her lips curl into a smirk and she gazes down at the flowers as if picturing something amusing in her head. "Someone who deserves it."
Makoto lets out a small chuckle. "I'll remember not to get on your bad side."
The woman eyes him for a brief second before letting out a noncommittal hum. "Mmm."
Was that the wrong thing to say? She clammed up all of a sudden but her response doesn't give him a good idea of where he went wrong. He averts his eyes for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "Have a nice day." As she reaches the door, Makoto suddenly gains confidence and waves at her. "Please come again!"
She doesn't reply as she walks out the door. Makoto watches her through the store's windows until she disappears from sight. He relaxes his weight onto his elbows and lets out a happy sigh. A dorky smile stretches across his face.
He really hopes she comes again.
"I would think that a detective like you would exhibit more attentiveness, especially after I made the effort to come all this way to this peasant hole."
Kyoko bites the inside of her cheek, takes a deep but quiet breath in through her nose, and then breathes out. "I would think it'd be clear to you that—"
I have better things to do than satisfy your infuriatingly massive, attention-demanding ego.
"—I currently have a lot of paperwork that needs to be completed, and I would like to get home sometime before next Sunday," she instead finishes. She just needs to keep up an act of civility. It'll be worth it in the end.
"Do you think that excuses the delay? You are wasting my time. Unless those papers are related to the retrieval of my property, your prioritizing leaves much to be desired."
But boy, does he make it difficult.
He being Byakuya Togami, one of the witnesses in her recently closed murder case. Originally, he was only involved as the employer of one of their suspects. Then it turned out that their original crime scene was a setup and the true scene of the murder was in an office building owned by Byakuya, committed by said employee. She managed to speak with him a maximum of three times during the case, and each time wondered what she was doing back in the same room as the insufferable smug bastard.
If she had her way around here, somebody else would've already given him back access to the office and she'd never have to see him again, but since he's the heir to the Togami Conglomerate, one of the biggest and most influential businesses in the area, her boss had made it clear to Kyoko and her coworkers that he would be treated with the utmost respect—lest the police department suddenly find themselves short several thousand dollars of funding.
And that means leaving him in the company of the most competent detective in the precinct. Who is still immensely busy and no longer has the patience to deal with him.
And despite it, she still turns to him with a calm expression. "I've already organized to have the appropriate documents processed. I'm afraid all there is to do now is wait."
Byakuya's demeanor hardly improves, but he does recognize that continuing to belittle her won't speed anything up, so he clicks his tongue and glares at a spot on the wall. An unfortunate officer walks in his line of sight and receives the full force of his fury. The officer stumbles for a moment, looks around to try and determine why she's getting glared at, and then nervously walks away in a hurry.
Kyoko glances up, catching sight of the interaction as she reaches for her mug of coffee, before turning her attention to her drink. She takes several gulps of the hot beverage before returning to the paperwork.
"What sort of punishment will that plebeian scum receive?"
Or trying to return to the paperwork. Kyoko doesn't look up as she replies, "It's out of my hands as to what sentence they'll give him. But he's been charged with second-degree murder—I imagine he's getting life with no parole for at least ten years."
Byakuya's lips twist into a sneer. "Let it be a lesson to him, and to anyone else who dares think of sullying the Togami name in such a manner."
She can tell that most of the detectives within earshot are irked by his comment, questioning how he can put his family's reputation over the fact someone was murdered. Kyoko's personal opinion is slightly different—that the fact the truth was reached was more important than some flimsy sense of justice or status—but that's neither here nor there. Not when the conversation topic offers her an opening.
"But, speaking of the case…" Kyoko reaches under her desk and pulls out a bouquet of flowers she'd purchased earlier. "Here."
Byakuya raises an eyebrow. "What are those?"
Oh, the urge to respond with the obvious smartass answer is strong, but she can restrain herself on this one occasion, all things considered. "They're as thanks. Your assistance was quite helpful, perhaps even vital to solving the case."
He was helpful in that it saved her waiting for a court order to investigate his office building, but she would've gotten her way regardless of his level of cooperation.
They're both distracted momentarily when another detective approaches Kyoko's desk—he's somewhat new but she can't say she remembers his name immediately. He angles the folder in his hands towards her and says, "I've got the papers for Mr Togami, Detective Kirigi—"
Before he can even finish, Byakuya stands up from his chair and snatches the folder out of his hands. And then, just when she thinks she spent twenty dollars on a failed opportunity, the bouquet disappears from her grasp.
Case officially closed.
Kyoko turns to the detective and inclines her head. "Thank you for the papers, Detective." The man flushes a little from the praise and tilts his hat down to hide his face. She turns her head as he leaves and focuses on Byakuya as he heads for the elevator. Only when the elevator doors obscure him from view does Kyoko's expression transform into something smugger.
One of her coworkers, Yui Samidare, levels her with a look of confusion. "Kyoko, did you just give the asshole flowers?"
"Yes."
"Why?" she asks incredulously.
Kyoko smirks. "To let him know exactly how I feel about his attitude."
She returns to her work as Yui starts yammering and blurting out whatever comes to mind—first of which is an accusation of attraction towards Byakuya, which thankfully doesn't take long at all for Yui to change her mind about. Then she just demands to know exactly what Kyoko was up to with the flower gift—because if anyone has an ulterior motive to everything they do, it's Kyoko Kirigiri.
Said schemer completely ignores what her fellow detective is saying. Her pen flies across the paper in front of her, but in all honesty, she's not focusing on that either. Kyoko's thoughts are solely occupied by the florist she met.
She wouldn't have been able to carry through with her plan of subtle revenge had it not been for him. She'll have to thank him for his assistance. Kyoko's eyes wander across her desk until they rest on her mug. Perhaps she could ask him out for coffee one day. He was pretty cute, too.
what's this did i finally write something and finish it? what a miracle.
Sorry byakuya, you're all right but you just also happen to be the default asshole that comes to mind when i need an asshole.
I read lots of prompts on tumblr and this is based on one of the prompts I found. Someone else (I can't remember the name rn) reblogged the prompt post with the flowers and meanings and stuff, I am no expert on flower language. Also I don't know police and law stuff don't quote me on the shit I write here.
Also this is probably the only chance I'll have to say something on Fanfiction so I'll say this here: I'm going away to Italy on Thursday for a week and I'm gonna be busy the whole time so I won't be able to do any writing or anything.
Not much else to say sooo...
Keep smiling, readers!