phil lester loved everything.
he loved dogs, he loved cats, he loved galaxies, he loved poetry, he loved art, but most of all, he loved flowers.
phil lester loved flowers so much that, even as a young boy, when asked what his desired profession would be when he matured, his answer was a florist. so when he found the opportunity to take a job at a florists shop next door to his favorite diner, how could he resist?
when he wasn't arranging bouquets or selling flowers, he would rest his chin in his hands and stare out the window across the street to a hardcore, punk tattoo shop that frankly just disturbed him. the general aesthetic of the flower shop clashed so extremely with the black building and spray painted red words that he found it hard to not petition for the shop to move somewhere else. other than that though, there was an extreme plus side. every day, people with sleeves of tattoos or a new piece on their neck or calf would walk out, and with them a boy with dark brown fringe and flowers covering both of his arms. he would raise one hand and grin in a goodbye, then disappear back into the shop. phil always dreaded the disappearing part.
so when that very boy walked into his flower shop with a very confused look on his face and fifteen pounds in hand, he didn't know that he could ever be more delighted- or disappointed. because if tattoo boy was coming into his shop on valentines day, it meant he had a reason. a reason that probably meant a girlfriend.
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one year (phan au)
Fanfictiondan howell was not one to fall in love. but perhaps this time, he'd make an exception.
