Normally Wallace didn't mind the florist's that opened next to his tattoo shop a few months ago. As long as it wouldn't drive away his customers and his neighbours minded their own business, he couldn't care less what kind of shop was next door. And having someone selling flowers this close would be a great source to get references if he or his co-workers had to design a floral motive.

Since the florist opened he had walked by dozens of times but he never payed more attention to it than casually glancing at the colourful flowers displayed outside. But today something caught his attention. For the first time Wallace had stopped to actually look at one of the plants. Next to kind of creatively arranged succulents, colourful bouquets, and those actually pretty cool looking plants with blossoms that looked like a starry night sky, was a vine that curled around a few bamboo sticks stuck in a pot. If it wasn't put on some sort of pedestal Wallace might not have seen it since the hand shaped leaves were not the most spectacular thing about it. What was really outstanding about this plant were its huge blue-ish flowers: around a star shaped structure was a circle of rays with a colour flow from dark purple over white to prussian blue which made them look like a radiant halo. Furthermore the white petals behind those rays amplified this effect. This would be really cool for the motive I'm working on… An angel-like creature framed by those flowers… that might look awesome! Wallace was standing in front of the plant for a few minutes until he realized that he might look really dumb staring at a flower like an idiot. He inspected his surroundings. Nobody was around who might have noticed his sudden strike of fascination for it. This is just ridiculous! Why the hell am I this dumbfounded by a fucking vegetable. Wallace glanced back at it. But it does look really pretty, though. And it did fill me with inspiration… Inspiration. That one thing he was lacking the past few days. Especially with this stupid request of an angelic motive he was brooding over. And this thing was just so gorgeous, so- Maybe he could take a photo? But on the other hand, would that actually do the flower's beauty justice? Probably not.

He started searching the plant for a price tag or some sorts. After a short while he found a name tag. Passiflora caerulea. How the fuck am I supposed to pronounce that? He entered the store. Someone in there must be able to tell him how much that plant costs.

The florist's shop was small and stuffed with all kinds of plants and flowers. At the counter an old lady was standing and waiting for the florist to finish her ordered bouquet of flowers. "You know, today would have been our 60th wedding day. So I thought I'd buy some roses for my husband's grave. He died five years ago, you know. It's been so lonely ever since", she rambled. "I can only imagine how this feels, Mrs Hudson", the person who was standing in the other room answered. To Wallace' surprise this person seemed to be male - judging by the voice. All florists he knew were women so seeing (or in this case hearing) a male florist was new to him. Honestly, he would have expected a woman in her mid thirties. Not the handsome young man around his age who just stepped out of the side room behind the counter and handed the flowers to his customer. "Here you go, Mrs Hudson. That would be $10", he said. The elderly lady paid for her bouquet and left the store, but not without eyeing Wallace suspiciously. He was used to that. Most older people were irritated by his colourful tattoos and his teal dyed hair. Whereas he was pretty sure the hair was the most irritating feature about him because he could still feel the stares when he had to cover up his tattooed arms during the winter. "Can I help you?" The florist's expression had slightly changed. He leaned a bit over the counter and smiled genuinely. Even though he couldn't be much older than Wallace his hair already was steel-grey. Maybe he was one of those people whose hair just went grey way earlier than most people's or he, too, dyed it regularly. On the other hand he didn't seem like the type to dye whatsoever. His sharp, cool, steel-ish blue eyes were a strong contrast to the warm colours Wallace started to see. And they were peering at him - waiting. His mind went blank as Wallace grew more and more nervous. "Uh, yeah, uhm... What does this plant outside cost?" Wallace pointed outside roughly in the direction that flower stood. The other man tilted his head what made him look like a lost puppy.

"Which one?"

"I believe it was called something like Pasissiflora cereal, er cerulean or whatever..." Shit, I fucked up!

Suppressing a laughter by biting his bottom lip the florist corrected him. "Do you mean the Passiflora caerulea which is on display outside?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Wait, I'll go and get it."

Wallace' gaze followed the smaller florist as he went outside to retrieve the plant while slightly giggling - apparently because of the tattoo artist's fuck up with the name. Wait, was he already this small before? Somehow his posture appeared to make him look a little bit taller than he actually was even though he probably could barely look over Wallace' shoulder without standing on his toes. He wore a purple, well fitting shirt and dark trousers what made his appearance classy and at the same time tastefully casual. All in all he seemed to have a good sense for fashion.

Damn, he is cute! How can it be that I haven't noticed him yet?

"This one?" He carried the vine inside. Wallace nodded and the Florist put it on the counter. "The plant alone costs 21$ but I believe you would want a flower pot?"

"Well, since I wanted to put it in my tattoo shop it wouldn't be such a bad idea, now would it?"

"Ah, so you are the owner of the etablissement next door? I see you passing by every day so I figured you must be working there."

"Yes, I opened it a few years ago. I have the impression it grew rather popular in the region over that time."

"Well, that's not too surprising if all the tattoos you guys make are as beautiful as the one on your right arm."

Wallace looked down on his tattoo. It was a beautiful, aquatic wyrm with marvelous, mesmerizingly vivid scales which jumped out of the water. The colours of this piece were truly well-made.

"A coworker - Pulmeria - made ist. She's a little bit grumpy but her colouring is amazing."

"I've seen her a few times, too. Recently she dropped by and bought some flowers for a family member."

That bitch fucking knows about him and didn't tell me?

"I think a cousin of hers got their tonsils removed."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure they are fine. It's not a complicated procedure after all and in the end there will be lots of ice cream. Wait, her cousin is a kid, aren't they?"

"He's nine years old I think."

"Well, which nine-year-old kid doesn't like ice cream?"

The florist reached in a shelf behind the counter to take out a purple pot which incidentally matched his shirt. "This one should look good with the flowers, what do you think?"

It actually met Wallace' taste. A black, grey or white one would have looked good as well but the purple one would also harmonize with the furniture in his shop and it would somehow make the flowers more outstanding. "Yes, this one's perfect."

The other man put the plant inside the pot. "Alright, that will be… 26,90$."

Wallace paid while the florist gave him the instructions on how to care for the plant: "It is actually kinda easy to maintain. Just make sure the plant gets enough light and water. It should survive a week or two, without watering it will just throw off the flowers." While he was talking, his steel blue eyes shined like dewdrops in a cobweb right after sunrise. Or was Wallace starting imagining things? Hell, if he knew. But there was something in this man's expression that somehow caught his attention but he couldn't really tell what exactly it was.

"Thank you very much", Wallace muttered.

"You're welcome!"

Wallace took the flower and wanted to leave when something came to his mind.

"Hey, I didn't ask you for your name."

"No, you didn't… I'm Steven."

"Wallace. Nice to meet you. I'd shake your hand now but I'm holding a flower."

Steven chuckled. "A cereal flower."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Sorry, I just had to!" He laughed "Don't worry, I had problems pronouncing the latin names at first, too."

Wallace opened his mouth to respond something but was interrupted by the doorbell ringing as another customer entered the small shop.

"Looks like you've got a customer. Well, I've got to go anyway."

Steven's laugh transformed into a warm and genuine smile. "Well, feel free to drop by here anytime."

"Goddammit I'm worse than my teenage niece!", Wallace cussed while putting another flower in the vase on his desk, where meanwhile a hole colourful bunch of them was standing. It's no fucking surprise my colleagues are teasing me. The one he bought today was an Astraseen or something like that. He couldn't really remember what Steven said because he was too busy admiring him. With a pencil he poked the new flower.Today he has hit by another low when Steven jokingly suggested to bind the flowers. Particularly the ones he bought over the past two weeks. Wallace could feel his heart skipping a beat while his face took on a deep shade of crimson. Without saying another word he had paid and left the shop - ashamed of being exposed like this. I really doubt that he believes me, when I say this is for reference…

For around two weeks Wallace had been visiting the damn florist's shop almost every day and he always ended up buying at least one flower because his dumb ass couldn't just ask that adorable idiot out. It was just … whenever he was there his brain somehow stopped working - especially when Steven started rambling on about something he likes. Everytime he did this his eyes were doing the thing where they get all shiny and such - for instance when he was talking about his plants. Well, there probably were a few more such topics but so far Wallace didn't figure them out. He just admired Steven's devotion to his job but sometimes his enthusiasm was a little too much due to the florist's tendency to lose himself when he was going on about it - a flaw Steven seemed to be aware of. Whenever he realizes he just talked too much he awkwardly turned silent and apologized. For Wallace this was kind of weird because why the heck would anyone be embarrassed for their interests? Whenever someone loves what they do or talk about people become just so much more fascinating and inspiring. That's why Wallace loved his job: he loves to his customer's stories which made them who they are today and he loves to capture them through the pictures he drew. This was what made his profession so awesome. Of course there also were those drunk fools bursting in the middle of the night and demanding a hideous tattoo they will definitely regret the moment they sober up without a second thought but there have to be hard times so you can cherish the good ones. And it is always hilarious to hear stories from his colleagues about the most ridiculous ideas some people have. Some people don't even have to be drunk for this kind of bullshit. One time an older man and a woman in her late twenties came here to get a tattoo of a certain bacteria - they even brought a scientific picture with them for reference. It turned out that they were a professor and his favourite doctorate who just got her degree so they celebrated by both getting a tattoo of the microorganism she did her dissertation on. Though this by far wasn't the weirdest thing people came up with.

Sometimes Wallace wondered what kind of stories made Steven who he was today and how their pictures would look like. Fuck, I'm thinking about him again!

He slammed his head against the desk in exasperation. Steven probably thinks I am an idiot. And if he didn't before he surely does now! Lethargically he lifted his head off his workspace again and looked at the sketches scattered there. Next to the butterfly motif he was currently working on, were countless doodles amongst the paper sheets. A lot of them were sketches of flowers - mainly of Passiflora - but the number of illustrations showing Steven greatly exceeded the floral scribbles. Wallace had tried to capture quite a few expressions of this man like his polite smile when he had a customer, that soft little giggle he made when Wallace didn't pronounce the name of a flower correctly (sometimes Wallace did this on purpose just to make him do this), or the brooding gaze when he was thinking. It wasn't really hard for Wallace to draw the florist but there was one expression the tattoo artist just couldn't portray no matter how much he tried: so far none of Wallace' attempts had truly managed to apprehend the smile Steven always had when he was talking to him. It was that particular beaming look on his face he just couldn't grasp. While going through those sketches Wallace came to realize that the smile his crush always put on when he had customers was essentially different from the one he had when he talked to the tattoo artist. It was even clearly visible through the messed up doodles that this look on his face was somehow brighter, warmer, softer, more… lovingly...

That sudden awareness that Steven didn't just give him the polite customer smile… It filled Wallace with determination. He grabbed the flowers from the vase and stormed out of his tattoo shop. "Oi, what're ya doin'?", Sidney - one of his co-workers - shouted after him. "Doing something I should've done around two weeks ago!", Wallace replied while exiting the door. "Fucking finally!", Plumeria cheered from a room in the back of the shop. "But don't take too much time! I don't want to drag your ass back here!", Sid yelled after him but Wallace has already left.

Steven looked up from whatever paperwork he was doing as the bell rang and Wallace entered. "Ah, Wallace. I didn't expect you to come by here again today. How can I help y-" He was stopped by a bunch of flowers held directly under his nose. "The offer you made… about binding the flowers... " Wallace' heart was pounding like crazy and his face had taken on a light shade of pink. Steven started to blush lightly and grinned. "I see. I'll take these then." He reached for the flowers, slightly brushing the tattoo artist's hand, whose heart skipped a beat at the touch. Wallace nodded silently while he let the florist take the flowers and watching Steven examining them. Thinking about what he could do so that the bouquet he said "Just wait here; I'll be back in a few minutes" and disappeared in the side room behind the counter. Just now Wallace heard that there was a radio playing music somewhere in the shop. He couldn't really make out where it was but apparently it was playing the same rock radio channel they would hear all day over at the tattoo shop. "I didn't know you were into rock music", Wallace exclaimed. Steven chuckled. "Yeah, always was. Guess it's not what you would expect from a florist, huh? What kind of music are you into?"

"I'm actually rather noncommittal when it comes to music. Basically, I'm listening to virtually everything. It depends on my mood. At work we are mostly listening to this very same channel, you know?"

"Really?"

"Yes, if Sid picks the music. We have the rule that whoever comes first is allowed to pick the music. But since I don't really care the choice is up to Sid and Plumeria."

"And what are you listening to, if she picks the music?"

"Hip Hop."

"Ugh."

"You don't like it, huh?"

"I cannot understand how people can be listening to this all day!"

Steven stepped out of the side room and handed Wallace the bouquet. The flowers were arranged by colour and size and the fern leaves draped around them made the blossoms more outstanding. "Luckily you picked harmonizing colours. Otherwise the result would have been somewhat awkward." Steven smiled shyly. "I hope you like it." "It's gorgeous", Wallace whispered. "It's almost a shame I'll give it away..." "What?" Steven's smile suddenly disappeared and his face went completely pale in shock. "T-to whom?" Wallace stared down at the flowers. Blushing lightly he held the flowers out to a blatantly baffled Steven. He looked him into the eyes. "Would you like to go out for a drink with me sometime?" With shaking hands the florist took Wallace' present. Trying to process what just happened he looked down on it. Slowly the warm smile he always had when Wallace was around returned to his face, relief overcame him and he started to laugh. That's just so cheesy!

"Uh… Steven?" Wallace looked troubled. Laughing after asking someone out normally was no good sign. Did he get it all wrong? Did he just see what he wanted to see after all? "Ah, I'm sorry! It's just-" Steven pulled out a small slip of paper out from between the flowers and handed it to Wallace. "I finally found a way to slip you my number and at the same time you ask me out." Dumbfoundedly the tattoo artist gaped at Steven's phone number. "I would really love to go out with you", Steven added.

"Ah, thank goodness!", Wallace sighted, "Fuck, I was scared you'd reject me!"

The florist smirked and leaned a little over the counter. "Why would I reject such a handsome dork?"

Wallace face went deep red. There were no words for this.

The ringing of the doorbell freed Wallace from his state of shock. A middle aged woman had entered the florist's. Steven smiled softly. "I think we should elaborate this later, should we not?"

Wallace nodded. "I think I'll get going. See ya~"

Outside on the street Wallace looked on the paper slip once again. He still did not believe all of this just happened. Just two weeks ago he would have mindlessly passed by this shop without paying any attention to it and now he was standing in front of it, staring at the phone number of the cutest guy he has ever met. He grinned. All of this, because of an extraordinarily beautiful flower.