Garden ☆ LENNSTARR

chapter one ;

This story is dedicated to the one and only @richardstarkeys . I'm sorry I haven't replied to your messages but I hope you feel safe, loved, and content since you deserve to be.

🌻💛🌻

Crisp, cold late January air nipped at John's nose when he opened the shoppe. The word open graced the laminated card, bright forest themed in regards of his favorite color  (and was overall the aesthetic of the shoppe, but John just really liked green).

He greeted the myriad of flowers and sang along to the oldies station playing in the background. The scent of flora mixed with Mimi's home brewed coffee settling in the air was clearly the sign of a good day, and if business was good he could hang out with the lads later afternoon.

"Tear it all apart," He crooned, the tulips lifting their bright buds in his direction. He seemed to be the sun at that very moment. "But love me,"

Chrystanthemums and roses fluttered as he sang, the rest of the blossoms swaying about like bewitched girls at a concert.

"If you ever go-" The radio let out a distorted shriek. He jumped, making some of his coffee spill in his hand. "Fuck!"

The bell rung daintily as the door swung open, a bewildered Ringo looking like he was on a mission as he glanced left and right.

"Oh," He beamed. "Hey!"

"Hey," John cringed at the way his voice came out and cleared his throat. "Hey. My radio," He gestured at its direction. "Was that a ghost thing or-"

The younger boy padded across the floor, blue eyes set on the radio. "Did it do anything funny?"

"It yelled at me," He pouted. Ringo chuckled.

"Yeah, it's a ghost. But don't worry, was probably just passing by." He pulled his jacket closer and looked around, taking a moment to look at the flowers. "What's that one?"

"Winter irises. Not alot of flowers bloom during this period, to be honest but-"

"I want one."

John cocked an eyebrow. "Do you even know how to take care of one?"

"Uh," Ringo grinned sheepishly. "You can always teach me about it, right Flower Boy?"

"I won't if you keep calling me that." He could make easy money if Ringo kept buying a bunch but he cared about them too much. They were technically a part of him. He reached over, took a pot where four winter irises flushed with purple. "They need a half day of sun, slightly acidic soil, low-nitrogen fertilizer and the rhizomes need to be covered in thin soil. Do you even know what a rhizome is?"

Ringo crossed his arms, laughing nervously. "Roots, right? I remember hearing it in science class once in grade school." He lifted his chin, taking note of John's deadpanned look. "I got this, Winston, don't worry."

John was about to say that only his aunt called him that but his train of thought screeched to a stop when Ringo's hands clasped around his. Ringo paid no attention to the pink flourishing on the taller boy's cheek and held the pot closer.

"So how much?"