hearts on fire // ed sheeran [au]

chapter ix // potted plants.

ed's pov

I stand in the middle of the grocery store, the light fixture above my head flickers in a way that irritates my eyes, a reminder - that none of the employees seem to be bothered by - that the bulbs need to be changed. 

"Fucking hell," I mutter, turning in circles before facing the floral department once more. The flowers all stare at me, as if they were taunting me. 

I'm going to be late picking up Hana and it's all because I just had to pick up flowers beforehand. But now that I'm going to be late, if I don't show up with something to show for it, I'm just an asshole who's late for a first date. 

My eyes glaze over the roses - no, those are so god damn cliche. God why did I think this was a good idea? Hana is definitely not a flowers type of girl. Or is she? Just when I think I have her figured out, she takes me by surprise. Who knows, maybe she spends hours in this floral department just smelling flowers? 

"Need any help, sir?" The florist approaches me, probably creeped the fuck out by the idiot standing in her department for twenty minutes. 

"Um, no, I'm just trying to figure it all out.." I ramble like a complete fool. 

She gives a small laugh and smile,

"Roses are overrated," She nods before walking away. 

My face burns with embarrassment as my eyes spot little blue flowers sitting in the back corner. The little popsicle stick that pokes out from the soil reads "forget-me-not" in black marker. They are almost exactly the same shade of blue of Hana's eyes. 

I grab the small pot and place it on the counter. 

"A potted plant?" She asks, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Is that stupid?" My heart sinks, "That's super stupid, isn't it?" I reach forward to grab the pot to put back, but she stops me, 

"It's wonderful." 

~ * ~ * ~  

My forehead is slick with sweat as I knock on Hana's door. I desperately try to wipe it dry with the corner of my coat sleeve. I can't believe I'm fucking twenty minutes late. My hands are full of soil from the potted plant I just had to get. 

I turn around to just leave when Hana answers the door, still in her robe. 

"Hi," She smiles, stepping forward to give me a hug. 

"Sorry, I'm late," I blurt as I let go of her, taking notice of how fantastic she smells. 

"Ed, I'm literally not dressed yet," She laughs, "I'll be just five more minutes," She promises, not at all embarrassed by her lateness, something I find so damn endearing. 

Her eyes go down to the flowers and I feel so ridiculously stupid. 

"Forget-me-nots?" She asks, her lips twisted in the most charming smile. 

"You didn't strike me as a rose type of girl?" I cringe, closing one eye in embarrassment. 

She laughs loudly - the only way she knows how to laugh - and takes the flowers from my hands. 

"You know me well," She grins as she brushes past me to place the pot on her kitchen counter. 

All my embarrassment disappears as soon as I see that smile. Worth it. 

"I just need to throw my clothes on. I'll be quick, I promise," She pats me on the arm as she quickly skirts past me, "Make yourself at home, snoop around, do whatever you want," She calls over her shoulder as she disappears down the hallway. 

Now that Hana is no longer in the room, I'm able to focus on everything else. 

Her apartment is so her, I can't help but to grin. Her small kitchen is a little dirty, a pile of mail beginning to build up on her small table. Her fridge is covered in magnets, take-out menus, pictures. I step forward to see a picture of her and a friend of hers dressed up as ketchup and mustard for halloween. The man looks familiar but I can't quite place him. 

Unable to help myself, I wander through her kitchen and into her living room. I can't help but to laugh as I lay eyes on the ugliest couch I've ever seen. The cushions are so fat they barely fit on the damn thing and it's a horrible floral pattern that only belongs in an old folks' home. Her coffee table has a huge stack of tabloid magazines on it, some wavy from water damage. Next to the stack of magazines sits a tiny little bong, explaining the earthy scent to her entire place. 

I wander to a large bookshelf that stands tall beside her tiny tv stand. I reach out to run my fingers across an assortment of books, dvds and cds - things I didn't think anyone owned anymore. She has an incredibly trashy looking romance novel resting next to her copy of Siddhartha, which is leaning against her DVD of "8 Mile".

Who is she?

"Ready?" She asks, pulling my attention away. 

I turn to see her standing at the edge of the hallway, dressed in a pretty green dress, her legs covered in sheer black tights. She smiles at me as she tucks her curly hair behind her ear. 

"You look ..." I struggle with words for a moment, "Beautiful." 

"Why, thank you," She grabs the edge of her skirt and does a dorky curtsy, "Now let's eat," She holds out a hand, ready to grab mine. 

I grab hers.