The Book Of IDOLiSH7, TRIGGER, Re:Vale, and ZOOL Oneshots

TomaHaru (Fluff AU)

Haru grumbled, arranging the front window display so it looked like spring overflowing.

Sunflowers. Adoration.

Pink roses. Elegance and grace.

Pale blue hydrangeas. Frigidity and apology.

White mayflowers. It’s only just beginning.

Okay, so maybe the flowers didn’t necessarily have spring-related meanings, but as long as they drew customers in, it was fine, right?

He’d just finished adjusting the lavender umbrella to perfection and placed the charmingly dully-shining metal bucket perfectly when the bell on the door chimed.

Scratch that. He’d forgotten how antisocial he was. Ugh.

People.

Just- ugh.

“Hey, did you design the flowers outside?”

Haru turned to see a person with maroon-coloured hair and a varsity jacket to match and blue jeans. “Yeah,” He said sarcastically. Then he truly - truly, capital T - tried to remember his virtually nonexistent customer service skills and failed. He decided to just try and wing it. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

The guy in the varsity jacket blinked. “Yeah,” He said, “Yeah. Could you show me your roses?”

Haru nodded and led the guy to their roses, launching into a passionate spiel about the different meanings. He stopped after a few minutes, belatedly realizing that cool guys weren’t into flowers.

And if nothing, Haru was a cool guy.

The guy acted like Haru hadn’t stopped talking, or maybe he was really dense and hadn’t realized it. He pointed to the purple roses and said, “I’d like one of those, please.”

Haru led the guy to the counter and rang him up. The guy looked nervous about his date - he had a date, right? He got a rose at a florist’s, after all - and held the rose like it was his lifeline.

“Three dollars, twenty-five cents,” Haru said, watching as the guy handed him three bills and a quarter. He had a rule not to tax flowers, after all.

“Have a nice day,” Haru said, finally remembering his customer service skills as he picked up the spray bottle for watering the counter succulents.

Suddenly he felt something pushed behind his left ear as the guy rushed out of the shop. As the door closed and the bell chimed, Haru caught sight of his reflection: his startled eyes and a not-quite-lavender rose tucked unevenly behind his ear.

Haru fumed. Who came into a florist’s to buy a flower and tuck it behind the florist’s ears?! Seriously, he had half a mind to-

Then the implications hit him.

Purple rose. Enchantment.

○|○|○|○|○

The next time Haru saw Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy - as he’d so nicknamed him in his mind - was a few weeks later when he was boredly tapping a pencil against the counter. Last time, he’d vowed to keep his guard up.

Now he’d see if he could hold up his vow.

“What is it this time?” Haru said, his tone sarcastic but genuinely curious. Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy shuffled his feet.

“Just browsing,” He said. Haru huffed and leaned on his elbows, watching Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy fumblr through the flowers. At one point he took out his phone and tapped away at it, mumbling and nodding to himself. Haru watched as he picked up a single bluebottle flower and made his way to the counter.

“Same price as last time,” Haru said. This time Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy handed him a five and Haru gave him his change.

Haru steeled himself for the flower he knew was going to be tucked behind his ear. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Buth nothing happened except the chime of the bell on the door. Confused, Haru peeked through one eye.

Then he realized that something was on his hand and looked down.

There, lying on his fingers, was the bluebottle.

Bluebottle. Perfection.

○|○|○|○|○

A few days later someone called and placed an order for a small bundle of gladioli and primroses. Haru thought the voice sounded familiar, but the phone could have messed it up.

As Haru was putting together the bundle, by some miraculous coincidence Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy entered the shop. “Just browsing,” He said, as if Haru didn’t have eyes.

Haru finished wrapping the bundle in brown paper and tying it with twine. He stepped back and admitted that whoever had called in had a great sense of taste and knowledge. The white of the gladioli and the light turquoise of the primroses meshed well, as did their meanings. He huffed and sprawled across the counter, closing his eyes and hoping Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy left him alone for a two-minute nap.

Or not. There was a whisper of paper and a clatter of coins by his ear. Then the bell on the door chimed and Haru opened his eyes, just in time to see Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy making his escape.

Haru looked back at the bundle of flowers and the dollar bills and coins adding up to thirteen-twenty-five. Exactly the price of the gladioli-and-primrose bundle. Haru shuffled through the money, biting his bottom lip.

So that was why the voice over the phone sounded familiar.

Then Haru found something interesting. Taped to one of the dimes was a tiny origami paper crane. Curiously Haru pried it off the dime and delicately unfolded it.

Inside there was a scrawled phone number and a message.

Date me.

There was small fine print written below it. Haru grumbled as he squinted to read it.

PS: The flowers are yours.

Haru snorted and shook his head, looking at the forgotten-once-again bundle of gladioli and primroses.

Then he took out his phone and programmed the number in, naming the contact Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy. Then he shot off a text.

IH: So, Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy, when’s the date and what’s your name

Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy: What?

Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy: I’m Toma.

IH: Great. Date’s in half an hour.

Purple Rose Stupid Varsity Jacket Guy: WHAT?

Haru grinned to himself, setting his blowing-up phone down and going to find a vase for his newly-acquired flowers.

Gladiolus. Infatuation.

Primroses. Eternal.

God, he was so looking forward to that date.