teach me
the charm
that will
set love
in motion
[indie hayasaka akari]
#bxdhead #akarih
the charm
that will
set love
in motion
[indie hayasaka akari]
#bxdhead #akarih
semi-hiatus
?:
Nauseating is the paradise he had once hoped for, threatening to vomit; what would he bleed? Pollen petals and pink asters at this rate. The air, the sweet, sweet scent of it all, is a toxin to his lungs, clogging his throat, making it so very difficult for him to breathe. The bees must be flourishing in victory, witnessing now the end of their constant battle at war. Against them is mother of all nature, who bites like a snake and injects venom into all who live under her bosom.
The soft ring of a tiny tinkering bell hanging over top of the entrance into a floral shop makes vivid his entrance when he steps inside. A whiff of green plantations and mossy-like air crinkle his nose, and narrows his eyes. If he were not so irritated with the new blossoming of a warmer day, then by all means, enter a florist’s den.
He will observe a gathering of red roses inside a small bucket hanging from a hook. And how sullenly sweet their aromas are! Instinctively a hand of his presses over top of his nondescript facial expressions to close off his lungs from breathing it into his system. Len will continue walking, gazing at each and every kind of flower until he is brought towards the front desk with a woman not too far from his age standing behind the register.
“Excuse me, mind if I ask for some help? I’m looking for some daffodils. Do you carry them? They’re usually a yellow color, I believe.”
✿ —— Chocolate eyes look up as the girl on the other side of the counter registers the music made by the chimes strategically placed above the door. Just as well that they are, for without the sounds she probably won’t notice the entrance of a customer half the time. Absentminded as she is, with her head often up in the clouds; at school she is often dubbed as an airhead.
“Good day.” Smile plastered on her face, she slips off the stool she is perched upon. Sneakers make no sound as she crosses the length of the room. The customer is a boy, with blue eyes and hair with a shade akin to the flowers he was looking for. Slight surprise—for it is rare that teenage males enter her workplace. “They’re in the back. Please follow me.”
Most of the shop is a greenhouse. The roofed building is where the front desk and indoor plants are located, but the opening right beside the register leads to a garden. Her boss is a steadfast believer in growing plants outside, unless they are supposed to be grown indoors. Just a step through the doorway and her eyes already spot the bright yellow of daffodils located near the far right corner. “Here they are,” she remarks once the blooms are merely an arm’s reach away. “Do you have a particular variety in mind, sir?” It feels strange to call someone her age sir, but he is still a customer.
