So, cough, I know I'm late for this, so I apologize to you guys :( I'll still try and get them done (hopefully...)
Day 1: Flower language
It was, in the early waking morning before the sun had even risen past the tree line, did the fingers decide to move, creeping and slipping over the sheets towards his late-night partner. Green opened at the feeling of nothing but crumpled sheets and lingering warmth, indicative of his partner's recent vacancy.
The square shoulders and bulky form rolled to his chest, his nose now burying in the fabric that held the head of black hair, lungs gathering the scent of chlorine and something else.
Fingers gripped harder at the edges, focusing on the scent, his mind spinning as he tried desperately to rediscover what it was that so subtly clung to Sousuke's well-defined flesh.
When he first bumped into Sousuke it had been physical, the two bulky forms grunting as their chests hit, the smaller stumbling at the contact only to have two strong hands reach out and grab him. Looking up in shock, surprised green met teal, the two spluttering apologies as their friends looked at the circus act in curiosity.
After the conundrum the two young men slunk to the back of the lecture late, both heads hanging to hide the shame as the professor began the lecture on floriography.
While his studies focused on early childhood development, the romantic in Makoto demanded to be released, the beauty of flowers and their hidden meaning attracting him to what promised to be an interesting class.
Or it would have been had the woman not had a voice like a rusted knife.
After only the first few minutes Makoto felt his brain slip from his skull in boredom, though he desperately tried to pull his attention to the front of the classroom. A feat which would have been easier had a note not dropped onto his blank page.
Passing notes was a long-forgotten past-time of grade school since the invention and discovery of cell phones, one Sousuke evidently seemed on rekindling.
Yellow rose: Friendship and Joy.
It was a simple note at first, only a few words, a comment of the interest level in the classroom. Makoto's answer, therefore, was just as simple, a word or two at most.
What started as a note or two turned into a rather blossoming friendship; each word managing to make the other smile or chastise as they were reminded of some assignment or test within the week. Passing notes became study sessions, study sessions became hangouts, and hangouts began to involve alcohol.
Neither of the two drank too much, a can of beer at most as the night wound down, laughing and talking about their futures, their friends, the common interest they held in swimming and their mutual class.
It was when midterms ended did they celebrate with friends and more than a few drinks. Makoto felt hot after his amount, his cheeks flushed and warm, his heart hammering loud enough he was sure everyone surrounding him could hear.
Excusing himself to the bedroom, Makoto opened the window, the blast of cool air nearly knocking him back. Sucking in deep breaths, the young man barely heard the door open, only turning around when he felt the presence behind him, confused when he saw Sousuke standing behind him.
Mistletoe: Kiss me.
The young man was still as an arm surrounded his waist and under his chin, their eyes meeting as reading the unreadable emotion flickering behind it before lips pressed against one another, the kiss tentative at first before deepening and reciprocating.
Makoto didn't know what was possessing him. Yes Sousuke was an attractive man, strong and talented, a smile that could make anyone's stomach flip. He was gentle and caring, smart and loyal. Hands cupped Sousuke's cheeks, their tongues beginning to duel for mutual pleasure and excitement.
Jonquil: Desire.
Everything came flooding back to Makoto, the memories of passing the notes back and forth, the hands touching for a brief moments evolving from accidents to longing touches, the flesh grazing one another, the other letting it, looking for it, wanting it.
Blunt nails scraped along the fine black hairs on the back of the neck, his altered state letting his emotions, hidden even from him, flourish between their touch and kisses.
Ambrosia: Your love is reciprocated
Skin on skin was not nearly as intimate as Makoto wanted, wanting Sousuke to touch every part of him down to the depths of his soul and make him cry out with desire and want. A need the elder was only too happy to fulfil.
Both were grateful for the loud noises their friends made and the music filling the room, their cries would have been easy to overhear had it been dead silent.
It was something the two wanted, a few months seemingly not enough to warrant a desire as theirs. Life and love, however, were rarely logical.
The insanity of desire plaguing them both drove them well into the night, only calming as exhaustion took over their bodies, the heaving forms lying on the mattress, silent save for the heaving bodies.
Waking in the morning, Makoto felt empty without the young man beside him, his green eyes forcing themselves open at the sight of nothingness. Now, with his nose in the pillow, Makoto felt his brows knot as he wondered about the subtle fragrance circulating beneath the scent of pool, sweat and sex. It had always been there, a natural smell that differed from his soap and shampoo.
It was soft, even floral.
A door opened slowly, the creak making the green eyes turn over to the young man standing in the doorway, his fingers fiddling with something between his fingers.
Only when it was extended out to Makoto did the younger realise that it was a white violet.
Lump in his throat and a realization in his mind, green met teal, searching and wondering about a young man he barely knew yet felt closer too than anyone. Their time was short and the notes were sweet, but the opportunity the flower presented was something he only wanted to have with Sousuke.
"Yeah," Makoto smiled warmly, dissolving the nervousness in the teal, "alright."
White Violet: Let's Take a Chance on Happiness.