I've been wanting to try my hand at a soulmate au sort of thing for a while, and I figured I would definitely want to do something flower related for these two. Kinda combining a few ideas I've seen/throwing in some of my own, here's the gist of how it works: When you know someone who is meaningful enough to you, you'll get flower designs on your skin signifying the relationship. If the relationship stops being significant, the marks fade away. If the relationship ends but still has a lasting impression on you, you'll end up with a dead flower. The marks can signify a family bond, friendship, romantic relationship, or anything else that has enough of an impact, and will usually start to appear in the first place you are touched by the other person.
Seymour had spent a majority of his life almost entirely unmarked. Growing up, he never really had any friends, and the sour-faced caretakers at the orphanage never seemed to care enough to develop the kind of relationship that might lead to a flower. He was never told the exact circumstances of how he wound up in the Skid Row Home for Boys, though he liked to hope that he might have gotten a flower from at least one of his parents, if he'd ever gotten a chance to know them. But he hadn't gotten that chance, and now he would never know.
His first mark, and for a long time the only one, wasn't exactly something to show off. It had appeared at the spot where Mr. Mushnik had clapped his shoulder and offered a gruff "Welcome to your new home." Nothing had shown up until a while later, once he felt surer that he wasn't going to be sent back again, even if his tendency to drop or knock over fragile flowerpots did get on his boss's nerves.
It was nothing more than a stem and a few leaves. Even after years and years of working for Mr. Mushnik, it had never turned into a flower. As much as he'd hoped it would be, it was clear that this wasn't a family. He was given a place to stay that was at least better than where he'd been before, and his boss had someone to sweep the floors. It seemed that was all it was ever going to be. And he didn't really expect to get any other marks. He wasn't someone important enough for anyone to stop and talk to, which meant that a bond with anyone didn't feel like much of a possibility.
Audrey, on the other hand, had quite the opposite experience. She had received many, many flowers throughout her life. She had always been a romantic at heart, and from a young age she had book of what the different flowers meant in her room and kept it tucked under her pillow, eager to see what marks would appear and decipher their meanings.
It soon turned out the book wasn't necessary very often, as there wasn't much variety. When she was still relatively inexperienced and idealistic, she constantly found herself thinking that whatever man had currently taken an interest in her might be the one. Those relationships always resulted in a bright, beautiful red rose. But over time, the men would become harsher, and the flower would start to wither. The color would fade, the petals would wilt, and the stem would be overtaken by thorns. And then the man would be gone, leaving nothing but the mark of a dead flower on her skin.
The flowers followed the same pattern as time went on. But she no longer got roses. Instead, they were always foxgloves. Insecurity, she had read. After being left heartbroken time and time again, it was difficult to hold out hope that she might finally meet someone who would want to marry her and take her away to a peaceful life somewhere far away from Skid Row. She wasn't good enough for that. She wasn't even good enough for the sort of men she met in the Gutter. She always tried her best, but it never seemed to be enough. She wished she could find the sort of relationship where she didn't have to feel anxious and jumpy, constantly wondering what she had done wrong now.
After a while of working in Mr. Mushnik's shop, Audrey supposed it shouldn't have come as a surprise when she got a flower from Seymour, what with the amount of time they spent working together.
It was also the first occasion in a long time when she had a reason to pull out her book of flower meanings, as Seymour was the first man who hadn't given her a rose or a foxglove. The stem started at her wrist, the first spot he had brushed against her as he helped her with a floral arrangement, and a white peony had sprouted just a little further up her arm. Bashfulness or shame, she read. They were both used to being looked down on, and neither felt they deserved the chance at friendship that had come into their lives. Forming that friendship had been a gradual process, one that involved struggling against a lot of feelings of, 'just shut up, you must be bothering them, why would they want to talk to you?' But they had always treated each other with nothing but kindness, and slowly those walls started to chip away.
She had been more than a little caught off guard when another flower sprang up alongside the peony. No one had ever given her more than one. It didn't seem as if any other relationships in her life had deepened enough to have a more complex meaning to them.
It was a magnolia that time. Perseverance and love of nature. Learning to trust someone again hadn't been easy, but Seymour had been worth it. She didn't know what she would do without him now. Eventually, he became the first person she'd confided in about her daydream of living somewhere green. And instead of snickering at her, or telling her she sounded dumb, he'd stared off into the distance as she described the sort of place she would like to live, as if he could see it himself and liked the idea as much as she did. It was around then that a few of her old marks had started to fade. Not all, but some. Especially on that arm, where they seemed to be giving way to the new flowers growing in their place. Spending time with Seymour made her feel that maybe the things other men had said to her didn't matter so much.
A pansy came next. Thoughtfulness, remembrance. She and Seymour had found plenty of little ways to show the other that they cared. When Seymour had twisted his ankle as he slipped one day, Audrey remembered how much he cared about his plant collection and came to help him water everything so he could stay off his feet. When the clasp broke on the bracelet she wore most often, even after she'd told him not to worry, she had others, Seymour spent a long time on his hands and knees after she left, gathering up all the beads so he could have it put back together again by morning. The little moments that showed he thought about how to make her happy meant a lot more to her than any grand gesture could, and she hoped the little things she could find to do in return made him happy as well.
Flowers continued to grow, until she seemed to have an entire garden along her arm. She wasn't sure whether or not Seymour knew they had come from him, but she was grateful that she usually tried to keep her arms covered anyway as more and more hinted towards secret feelings and romantic affection. Still, she couldn't help but smile the day she saw a rose among all the others. She found that she thought roses looked much nicer when they weren't the only flower there, and she knew that there was a lot more to her feelings for Seymour than what she had ever felt before.
Orin became the second man to give her something besides a rose or a foxglove. It was a marigold from him. Pain and grief. It came on the opposite arm from Seymour's flowers, starting in the spot where he'd first grabbed her wrist to drag her along when she wasn't following him fast enough. Rather than growing upward, it stayed around her wrist, reminding her in a way of a tightening grip as she started to feel more and more that she'd gotten into a situation that there was no good way out of.
Sage appeared among the flowers from Seymour next. Health, respect. She had long been in the habit of trying to keep the sheer number of dead flowers on her skin covered. Now, she was hiding bruises in addition to browned flowers, but not all of her injuries were easy to keep out of sight. She knew that it was really starting to worry Seymour, but he never said much about it. Mr. Mushnik would nag her about how she wasn't dating the right sort of boy, not understanding that she didn't have a hope of finding anyone better. But Seymour would only bring her a bandage, or a clean rag soaked in cold water to press against a bruise. He never scolded her, or suggested it was her fault for the company she was keeping. But he would do what he could to make sure she was alright, and never looked at her like he had any reason to think less of her.
She wondered often if she had ever given Seymour any flowers. She knew that she hadn't for Orin. But Seymour… he seemed to care, didn't he? Though if she had, she'd never seen it. Then again, she wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him in anything but khakis and long sleeves. It probably wouldn't be easy to see even if he did have any marks of their time together. He'd never really told her many details, just that he didn't have much. She'd never pushed to know more, as it was plain to see that he was embarrassed about how few people had ever cared about him. It made her heart hurt to think that someone as wonderful as him had gone ignored for so long, but she couldn't think of any way to make things better for him. She hoped that maybe she'd at least been able to give him one.
Sometimes, when she seemed to be having a hard day and was feeling particularly down on herself, Seymour did want to show her the signs of how much meaning she held in his life. Unfortunately, it wasn't in a very easy place to do so. The first flower from Audrey had appeared a little above the small of his back, after the first time she'd seen Mr. Mushnik really lose his temper and yell at him. As tentative as she'd been around him during her early days in the shop, she'd reached out with a comforting hand and told him that she didn't think he was just a worthless klutz the way Mr. Mushnik said, and that their boss was probably just stressed about the lack of customers, and maybe he could try bringing up some of the good ideas he had about how to improve business.
That first one had been a goldenrod. Encouragement. Yellow as her hair and bright as her smile. Since then, he had a hard time keeping track of all of the ones that had grown around it, seeing as they weren't in a place he could see very easily. He knew Audrey would be able to tell him a lot about what they all meant, and a few times, he'd briefly considered wanting to ask her. But since showing her the designs all along his back would require being in somewhat of a state of… undress, it was a thought he couldn't dwell on long if he wanted to be able to look her in the eyes without blushing furiously. He and Audrey might be very close, but he doubted she felt the sort of way that would make her want to see him take his shirt off.
There were many, that much he could tell. From what he could make out in the mirror, it was a strange thing to see after he'd spent so much time feeling sure he wouldn't have any. Strange, but certainly very nice. Even if he couldn't show her, he hoped Audrey could tell how much of an impact she had on him.