A/N- apology because a lot of my writing comes out strangely modern? Probably because i wasn't alive in the 60's. Just a PSA before anyone yells at me that it's not very 60s-era for a guy to think of his girl as precious and deserving of respect, this is Seymour. He worships Audrey. Anyway, enjoy. Sue me if you hate it. I'll still love ya.
Seymour Krelborn was ten years old when a man dragged him out of the Skid Row Home For Boys and down the streets of said city. In the biting cold, Seymour should despise walking the streets as a malnourished, underdressed boy. But he couldn't be happier.
He spent the night under a counter, covered in tattered blankets and a hard pillow with a botany book held to his chest. He read until sleep lulled him every night.
Seymour read a lot. While sweeping, while sitting at the counter, while eating his daily crust of bread for lunch and meatloaf for dinner. He read at night until his boss would grumble, then went to bed. Until he turned eighteen, Mushnik stayed at the shop until the boy was asleep. Something about 'the law' with minors. Seymour didn't know what that meant.
He studied botany like it was his life. Mushnik was astounded when for the one day of Hanukkah he let Seymour ask for a gift, all he asked for was more books. Twice as astounded when he could recite all the benefits of potash to mineral supplements. For a kid who never passed the fifth grade, Seymour could process things like a genius.
With his boss' rules however, Seymour was less skilled. He had awful coordination and shaky hands— knocking over vases and spilling water almost every day. When Mushnik first set the kid to arranging flowers, he spit out awful pieces of mis-matched colors and terrible spacing.
They needed an official arranger.
She was a pretty blonde, just a year older than Seymour, and he couldn't keep his eyes off her. Mushnik noticed these pathetic tendencies and passed them off as a release of pent up teenage hormones— the kid's probably never spoken to a girl before.
With Audrey, Seymour learned much slower. She was much more complicated than flowers and potash, she was a complex person built on experiences and insecurities. But the worst part? Plants will die or wilt if you do something they dislike. Audrey won't move a muscle. The first few weeks they were together, she would flinch if he were to touch her cheek. She blamed it on "instinctive response"— a word Seymour didn't know the meaning of— and passed it off. He took a note to be more gentle.
Gentle seemed to be the way to go with her, too. Which was good for Seymour, who has never been in any relationship with a girl. He made mental notes about certain things she did and the way she reacted to things he did. He adapted to her needs and preferences— without her saying anything.
For example.
Audrey liked when he touched her hair, but not when he accidentally pulled it. She enjoyed if he rubbed her shoulders or hands but hated if he rubbed her back. If he needed to get her attention or pull her to something, he made sure to grab her hand and never her wrist or arm. He liked to kiss her healed scars before bed or in the morning, and always noted how beautiful she looked. Slowly, she opened up to him. Though much more difficult than a flower, he learned they had the same concept. Treat her right, and she'll grow.
There were other things that Seymour picked up on. Audrey liked to sing while she cleaned, couldn't drive with the radio on, and enjoyed sewing but not knitting.
She liked slow, sleepy kisses and dancing to Seymour's The Beatles record in the kitchen after dinner. They hadn't discussed children for a long time after they were married— it just didn't feel right— and neither of which were 100% comfortable yet.
Seymour had never met someone as complex and intricate as Audrey— yet so silent about it. She was a beacon of change for the boy, some form of a goddess that lived and slept beside him. Her heart was so damaged but so kind, so loving. She never used her past against his, or the other way around. They would kiss away the pain and move on, looking toward the future.
Audrey's never felt equal to or wholly loved by a man before, but everything was a learning experience.