Fai had owned the flower shop for about five years now. He had inherited it when his father had passed away, one of the strange properties that his father had acquired as his health had declined and been unable to rent out, a small shopfront which cuts back somewhat deep into the offices and stores around it with big windows.
He'd built it up from scratch with the girl who'd become a sister to him, eager to help even as a teenager and obviously wanting an excuse to get away from her brother despite her slight but waning crush on his long-term boyfriend.
Then he had mostly set her to painting shelves, sweeping the floor, picking out the right screws, sanding the wood (after long enough spent teaching her before that he probably could have done the job seven times over) and picking up coffees from the small shop next door.
And it may have been coincidence, and Fai would never admit to it being anything but coincidence, but the shop next door was owned by Kurogane Suwa and his brother Syaoran, again adopted in the way that queer people are.
And, well, Fai would never try to play matchmaker but he does happen to remember all the soft eyes the two had made at each other and if his favourite coffee happened to be made in the shop right next door by the boy's brother then it was nice for the to kids to chat, right?
That, of course, was five years ago now. He'd been set up for a good time now, a small greenhouse area added about two years ago for growing succulents when it came to the time when students went away to colleges and some of the more popular houseplants and some shuffling about of the till and displays had been the only big changes since he'd opened.
Sakura had been working for him the whole time, soon becoming very popular with those same college kids trying to figure out what to get for their partners and very good with the rush-valentines orders.
Syaoran was a work in progress but he'd only been there for a few months. Fai was limiting him to the greenhouse for now and to reading up more information on floristry.
The boy was a book-learner and the fastest on the till and Fai wouldn't judge him for it.
Now he is the one who waves at Syaoran as he sits on a stool behind the desk, book in his lap as he tries not to look at Sakura, and Sakura, standing beside him at the desk, working on part of a big order, a wedding which Fai would be pulling most of the weight on when the girl went home, who is also trying not to look at Syaoran.
The placement of the desk honestly was chance, contemplated when he'd imagined himself to be the sole owner and worker of the store, but was proving to be a very convenient choice now as he tells them that he's going to pick up some drinks and that he'll be back soon.
The blushes that rise on both of their faces almost make him laugh as he ducks out of the door of his own shop, bell jingling, and steps right into the store next door, only a few patrons still about, as calculated.
The tall man behind a counter looks up as soon as he enters, drying the inside of a glass.
"How are they doing?" He asks in lieu of a greeting, already setting about making the most insufferably sweet drink that he can think of in that moment.
Fai sighs, coming to stand over the pastry counter and perusing the offerings without any true focus, having long ago decided on his favourite treat here and knowing that Kurogane knows it better than the back of his hand by now.
"I really think they are hopeless," the blonde man complains, draping himself over the glass, "it's been months and they still haven't even asked to have the same lunch break or offered to walk each other home." He pouts melodramatically, accepting the frothy and almost luminous pink drink that is offered to him.
"Strawberry?" He asks, derailed slightly by curiosity about today's concoction.
"Raspberry, toffee and white chocolate." Kurogane corrects briefly, already setting up Syaoran's and Sakura's orders, spiced tea without milk, two spoons of sugar, and a rose milk tea with some cream on the side. He raises an eyebrow, eyes not moving from his work, and sighs too.
"I really thought one of them would have done something by now," he says, "I thought it would take two weeks from you opening, what with you having her in here all the time and the way the kid was looking at her." Kurogane admits, the exact opposite of a secret by now.
"I know, I know. You almost wonder what it would take, don't you?" Fai says amicably, watching Kurogane's hands move.
"Here." The man says, passing over the tray they use between them, the two drinks and a set of three pastries on it, Fai's wrapped in a paper bag separate so that he can enjoy it later.
"Maybe if you give them another five minutes one of them will panic enough they blurt it out." Kurogane snorts, well meaning.
Fai laughs, shuffling onto a chair at the end of the counter and sipping at his drink in a way that would be obnoxiously loud if Kurogane and the patrons of his shop weren't so used to the man.
"Maybe, maybe." He agrees, quiet for a moment.
Kurogane goes back to cleaning, ringing up another coffee for the young-faced man who sits in the corner and works at his laptop every Wednesday afternoon and serving sweets and take-away drinks to a group of school children.
The shop lulls again and Fai hums.
"How's Tomoyo-chan doing?" He asks, half for another reason to stay for a few minutes, half for concern for the girl who had seemed hopelessly enamoured with Sakura up until about a year ago when she had confessed to Fai that she knew the other girl wouldn't be interested in her.
"Yeah- doing good, doing good," Kurogane says, wiping a surface, trying to remember what she'd said when he'd last spoken to her, "last I heard she'd broken up with the writer but they're still friends-" He says, interrupted by Fai.
"Ah- I didn't think they were quite the right fit for her-" Fai cuts in.
Kurogane nods in agreement and continues, "Yeah. I think she's dating one of the girls behind the bar at Clover now," the man snorts a laugh, lip curling up at one side, "apparently she's very tall and she just wants to dress her up in all sorts of things." He says.
Fai chuckles too, swirling his drink around in the glass, froth misting it.
"Ah- Tomoyo-chan, a classic lesbian." He mocks with affection.
"Yeah." Kurogane agrees, smiling. He checks his watch and gestures to the wall with his head.
"Probably about time for you to head back now." He says, nudging the tray a little.
Fai sighs, resting his head on the counter for a moment.
"Yeah. Should at least see if there's anything of the shop left if either of them decided to say anything," he sighs and then looks up at Kurogane, slipping from the chair and with practiced motions picking up the tray with one hand, "they really are hopeless, Kuro-tan." He grips one last time.
"I know." Kurogane agrees.
For another day the two lovesick teenagers remain lovesick and clueless and Fai closes up early, telling them that it's fine, that he just needs to sort a few things (he doesn't say that he's hoping that the warm weather, the orange-pink glow to the sky and the blossoms which are falling from it will get them to get the act together but he does hope for it all the same).
He is up late in the backroom, wrapping up what feels like endless bouquets of white flowers and sprays and table dressings, space heater on by his feet alongside the crumpled paper bag which didn't quite get to the bin casting an orange glow over the room despite the fluorescents over head.
There's a thud on the glass door and the bell rattles a little in complaint.
Fai peers at the time on the wall clock and shakes his head at himself again, putting aside what he hasn't done yet and going to let the other man in.
Kurogane tries to look like he just happened to be in the area but Fai knows that the cafe doesn't need to be open this later even with the man making his own bread each morning and extra to sell. He smiles, unlocks the door to admit him.
"The kid said that the girl was worried about you working late again." He says, an excuse.
Fai knows that that is very likely the truth, and a convenient one at that, but smiles anyway.
"I'll just pack everything up for the night." He says, not quite inviting him into the backroom but the invitation there anyway.
He follows, leaning against the wall as Fai puts away the bouquets for tomorrow, what has been done for the wedding, order form on top so he can pick it up easily in the morning, throws on his coat, picks up the black bag of spoiled flowers to go on the compost in his back garden, picks up the keys on the desk and checks his pockets, nodding slightly when everything is there.
"Ready to go." He says, switching off the heater under the desk and the lights by the switch next to the door.
The heat lamp in the greenhouse glows, humming quietly. Fai feels his heart beat a little faster as he sees the light glow off of Kurogane's face as he looks at it for a moment.
They walk to the door, quiet, the ritual well known to them both by now.
"I've been thinking," Kurogane says, voice rough but gentle as he disrupts their usual pattern, "that maybe I should start growing some of the stuff for the shop. Some tomatoes or strawberries or something." The man says, eyes only warmed by the dim light as he meets Fai's eyes.
"A little set up like that could be a good start, right?" He asks.
Fai smiles widely, feels his heart start to beat so loudly in his chest he swears that the other man could hear it.
"Yeah- it would," he says, "I could help you with it, if you like?" He offers, surprised to hear his voice say the words he hadn't even thought yet.
"Yeah," Kurogane says, turning away again, "thanks."
Fai is still for a moment as the other man goes on towards the door, thankful for the dim lighting to hide his blush until he gets it under control.
"See you," Kurogane says through the rolled down window of his beat-up old car.
Fai watches the car leave until the lights are gone and stands for a minute longer.
He grins.
He stays up even later that night, sketching out a design and writing the dimensions of the materials they'll need to build a greenhouse as he eats soup, reheated from a pot he made at the weekend, that he doesn't taste.