Chapter Text
A couple of blocks down Tokyo Station stood a flower shop of modern design. Surrounded by glass walls edged with black, the flowers teemed to life outside its doors, giving it a romantic yet comforting appeal. The shop was popular with lovers, potential lovers, and all the ambiguity in between. They come with a hint of desperation, a desire to show off, all under the name of a happiness Shintarō didn’t understand—love.
“Midorima-kun, could you prepare the roses after this?” The manager asked from behind the counter. Shintarō gave a silent nod as his ever-green eyes glided down onto the bouquet he had been arranging. Despite wearing thick gloves, there was impeccable delicacy in his touch as he confirmed once again that the bundle of elegant white lilies were in perfect form. He supposed this too would be an useful experience down the Path of Surgeon as he heard the ring of the door before him and glanced up to begin another round of forced hospitality.
“Welcome—‘
“Huh, Midorimacchi?!” Kise said with wide-eyes.
“Kise?” Shintarō squinted, just as surprised. He hadn’t seen him in years.
***
Although Kise had a penchant for jumping at others, it was a sentiment reserved for Kuroko. With Shintarō, he was calmer and spoke with a carefree air. However, perhaps it was because of a long history of predispositions, that Shintarō could not help but find him utterly obnoxious. “So you’re working part-time as a florist? That’s pretty unexpected.” Kise comfortably rolled in a swivel chair. "Are you still studying then? Let's see, probably some kind of doctor right?"
Shintarō silently questioned why the shop was designed like a bar, swiveling bar chairs right up against the counter. It placed him too close to comfort to Kise—who had been interrogating his life’s story out of him for the past five minutes.
Five minutes too long.
“Kise, are you buying flowers or not?” Shintarō demanded, back turned to focus on tending the roses.
“Like I said, of course I will but if I did that wouldn’t you kick me out right away?” Kise frowned, years of possible experience bestowing him the power of foresight.
“I will kick you out regardless.” Shintarō said.
“Wow, that’s so cold!” Kise complained, his expression clearly saying otherwise as he poked around at the dancing flower man on the counter.
It sang a warbled tune as Kise stared at its sunglasses, like a curious child with an ulterior motive. “But yeah, I better go soon,” he decided, turning to Shintarō. “So will you pay some attention to me now?”
Shintarō quirked a brow. It was unlike Kise to attempt to sound desperate in front of someone other than Kuroko. Then again, it’s been years. So long that they might as well have been strangers. “That, I can do. So what type of flower are you looking for?” Shintarō said as he started towards their flowers on display.
Kise did not follow, eyes distantly boring a hole into the wall. “I don’t know, so it’s fine if you just give me something random.” He said with nonchalance.
Shintarō paused on his heel. “What?” He turned back with a scowl. “Are you making fun of me? I didn’t listen to you for so long so I could hear you make a flimsy request.”
“Huh?” Kise blinked, seeing no fault but still saw Shintarō silently charging towards the back room. He blanched. “Wait wait wait, why are you angry? Hey wait, Midorimacchi?!” He cried in confusion.
Shintarō shut the door behind him.
Kise stood, alone in the gallery. He wondered if that was his cue to leave. Just as he reached the door however, a voice stopped him. “Where do think you’re going?” Shintarō asked as Kise turned, his eyes falling towards the wrapping paper in Shintarō’s hands.
“Huh?”
“If you’re fine with anything then you might as well buy something expensive,” Shintarō stated.
Kise blanked, unsure of why Shintarō was acting so bipolar before summing it up to the influences of Akashi and grinning, “oh, so that’s why the wrapping paper is gold? You’ve become quite the businessman Midorimacchi.”
Shintarō sighed. “That aside, can I at least know who they're for?”
“Huh?”
He walked back to the flowers on display. “Flowers all have meanings. It would be strange if I chose funeral flowers for a hospital patient so you should at least tell me something about the receiver.”
Shintarō watched Kise's hand hover to the back of his neck. Suddenly, he seemed flustered. “Y-yeah, that’s true…” he mumbled, eyes scouring the floor. “Um well, it’s to a woman. She’s super cute and pretty so something that’ll suit her I guess!”
Shintarō frowned, “it’s to a woman?” Considering how most customers were here to woo, could Kise possibly be— “Kise, are you trying court someone?”
For a moment, Kise froze, eyes unresponsive, room turning subzero, before he became choked with laughter. “PFFT! Court?! Did you just say court?! Midorimacchi!” He exclaimed with a sore stomach.
Midorima flinched, ears burning. “What!”
“Uwah, so lame! That’s so lame, what century are you from!” Kise laughed before he was met with an unholy glare. Ineffective as it were, he laughed till he could laugh no more.
By then Midorima was ready to use wea—tools to force him out. “Sorry, it was just too funny,” he wept, ruminating in Shintarō’s always evident lameness before he remembered even that dancing flower man was a part of it. Oh god that was probably his lucky item! A second wave boiled up his stomach but even he knew Shintarō would kill him so with many regrets, he let it subside with a faint sigh. He breathed. “Anyways, since it sounds like I pretty much have to, I’ll tell you MIdorimacchi!” He continued as the speed of a bullet.
“Ah?” Shintarō frowned, already forgetting.
“My secret,” Kise winked, “because you see, you’re right! It’s a bouquet for the woman I love! Heck, it’s for marriage purposes!”
Shintarō blinked. “Marriage?” That Kise, the one without even a notion on how-to-read-atmosphere was getting married?
“Yeah! My girlfriend told me if I could guess her favorite flower, then she would marry me immediately!”
“…I see. Then, she’s quite a demanding woman,” Shintarō commented, saying the only thing he could think of in a topic that was making him increasingly uncomfortable.
“Nah, I think it’s pretty reasonable and pretty cute too. So since that’s the case, what do you think her favorite flower would be?”
“No idea. Since you’ve spent time with her, you should know better than me. But, try giving her some of these,” Shintarō suggested, pointing at the forget-me-nots.
“Huh, those look pretty small.” Kise mused.
“True but it’s popular with those who have unorthodox views on love,” Shintarō replied. “Just so you know, it means ‘eternal love’ in flower language.”
Kise slowly nodded. “Alright, I like that...I'll take it!” He said with a wide grin. Paying with card, Shintarō noticed he probably didn’t need to ask what Kise was doing with his life. The card was black, a trademark among the rich. Kise was definitely still in showbiz.
With a wave and cheerful thanks, Kise left the shop.
It was then that Shintarō realized he wasn’t cut out to be a businessman after all.
SALE -- Wrote the sign above the forget-me-nots.
***
“…One, more, time!” Kise huffed in exaggerated pain as he plopped down onto the counter with a subtle whine.
Shintarō’s blood pressure was about to peak. Irritatingly enough, it had been a week since Kise first visited and every single day he had been coming to buy flowers. He wasn’t sure if he should be irritated at the woman for ignoring Kise’s heartfelt advances or Kise for pestering him every day.
“But do you really work part-time? You’re always here when I’m here!” Kise commented.
“There’s a concept called shifts and I am ready to change it right now.” Shintarō scoffed as Kise sipped at the ice tea Shintarō took from the staff room in the back. He chuckled, savoring its sweetness.
Shintarō frowned. Somehow, Kise was starting to fit in. Unaware of what hand he had played in that, he focused back onto the anemone plants sitting on the counter, wrapping the red and purple flowers with a thick white ribbon. “Then today’s theme will be ‘unfading love’, hurry up and pay.” He demanded.
Kise pouted his lips like a saddened puppy. “No way, you’re always so quick to get rid of me. I’m gonna stay longer today!” He said.
“This is a flower shop, not a cafe” Shintarō reminded as Kise downed the glass. “But you can stay if you like; I’m off in five anyways.” He said, checking his watch.
Kise’s ears perked up. “Seriously? Hey that’s great! I’ll leave when you leave and let’s head to a café!”
An extremely disturbed look erupted on Shintarō’s face. “No” he said, as if opting out of a possible nightmare.
Kise groaned, far too used to his incorrigible antics. "Gosh you're so stiff Midorimacchi, if you go on like this you'll never land a girlfriend!"
"That's none of your business" Shintarō scoffed, snatching the cup from the exasperated blond.
“Midorimacchi!” He pouted to no avail as Shintarō left for the back room to time out.
But when he emerged fifteen minutes later, Kise was still there, leaning on the counter with a bouquet of flowers. Shintarō's co-worker stood next to him, chatting away with the handsome man.
"Ah Midorimacchi!" Kise greeted with the same cheer as before Shintarō left. Shintarō pondered the possibility of Kise having the memory of a minute dog and how that was probably the case. Even so, perhaps even he had forgotten about the past.
As if the moment was born anew, from somewhere, came a slight dilation of life that made Shintarō temporarily forget about the room, about himself, that the world gave way and allowed the slightest crinkle to form on his lips.
"Let's walk to the station together!"
***
Shintarō didn't understand love. At least, he didn't think he did. He's never been in love, no matter how many times his old teammates try to label him the homosexual bride-to-be of Takao. He didn't understand why Kise would go so far for a woman, even after looking past how it was possible for someone with his personality. Still, if he had to describe it, he would believe it wasn't much different from the feelings he already understood. He would think of his former teammates—that grin on Takao's face as he carts him away while whistling. He would think of middle school, when they shared a rowdy moment arguing over basketball plays. It was a feeling of warmth, something Akashi would describe with a mere curve of the lips.
It didn’t end there. Shintarō slowly watched curve-of-the-lips transcend those middle school days and trickle into his work: flowers and medicine for the sick, lucky items for the young, and a smile, difficult yet nevertheless crafted to give his patients ease. Going lengths for others was an attribute he shared with an altered Kise, a man smitten with love. It made him wonder, if in the end, they were similar and if so, if he should caution Kise to stop, especially with a woman as unresponsive as her.
Pouring in one's heart, was a little less than foolish.
"Are you crying Midorima-kun?" A soft voice asked.
"Nothing of the sort. You should learn to stop making assumptions." Shintarō murmured as he removes a cloth from his eyelids, wiping the mist from his eyes. Upon opening them, he was led into a dark, dim world as he heaved himself up from a couch and readjusted the light in the room.
Across from him sat Kuroko Tetsuya, the therapist. “So what did you see this time?” Kuroko asked under the yellow light, his presence a shadowy flicker that required Shintarō to focus to not miss.
Today however, Shintarō’s focus waned. “The usual.” He said. “Nothing’s changed.”
“I see,” Kuroko said, eyes probing the man as Shintarō stared down at his shaking hands. He clenched them.
“…Kuroko, six months are almost up.” He softly said.
Kuroko stared at him, unblinking. “Yes. Midorima-kun, are you having doubts?”
“The therapy hasn’t been working at all.”
Kuroko’s eyes crinkled, the only giveaway of a frown. “It has. You’ve been doing a lot better than before.”
“I don’t need you to console me.” Midorima scowled. “I understand my own progress best.”
“Consoling you is my job.” Kuroko reminded, “And as your therapist, making sure that you don’t turn into a hopeless mess is why I’m saying anything to you.” He bluntly stated, blurring the lines between professional and old nemesis.
Surely Shintarō could never be friends with the likes of him. His pride inflated like a balloon, anxieties pressured into submission. “Fine. If I’m not cured in these six months I’ll have you sued for fraud.”
“Is that so,” Kuroko cleanly disregarded as he flipped the pages on his clipboard. “Then please hurry and answer my questions so I won’t be wrongly accused by an uncooperative patient.” He prodded as Shintarō leaned into the couch with a glare. “Did anything different happen this time?” His soft voice asked, ringing into the hollows of Shintarō’s ears. Despite his inherent dislike, Shintarō acknowledged that Kuroko’s voice had a rather pleasant tone.
It helped him speak the truth. “…this time, I thought of Kise.”
***
After each therapy session, Shintarō would feel exhausted. Overwhelmed by the din of the city, he silently marched through the Tokyo night.
“PTSD,” Kuroko said, “it’s natural,” he said but Shintarō saw his condition as nothing but a nuisance, a sign of the weak. "It's because Midorima-kun is kind." Kuroko said, something Shintarō understood even less as even recalling the event would corrode his mind. His body would often grow limp from exhaustion but as long as Kuroko was there, it would be masked by Shintarō's pride. Yet at this moment, even with his rigid life values, Shintarō found himself unable to contain the mental fatigue. It was an attack. Coming aggressively, it wrought him with the urge to chuck everything to the floor, to destroy the concrete around him, to sink the world into nothingness.
He tried to calm down, take those embarrassing deep breaths that Kuroko nagged him about while pacing forward, hurrying for home. He thought of the flower shop as a distraction, a work simple-minded and relaxing, something he never thought he would enjoy. He thought of Kise, who with that carefree smile might’ve been waiting for him. He wasn’t at work today. His steps slowed as his mind vaguely drifted into wondering if Kise had found the right flower today. If, in this one moment he missed, the world would change and move on without him.
No, it probably began turning since long ago. Without Kuroko around, Shintarō felt unnaturally empty, a sentiment so unlike him but so real that his knees were ready to sink. He took in a sharp breath, pacing himself a couple steps forward, hand on his head. He tried to discipline himself, to say that this was no way to behave but his body revolted into a drunken state. His breathing accelerated, his legs staggered, blood pressure rising, and the world, the night lights spinning to a blur. He was losing control and—
A bouquet of flowers stood still in his vision. Oh. Today’s flowers were lilies-of-the-valley.
“You’ve made my life complete.” Shintarō mumbled, unintentionally transcribing.
“What?” A familiar voiced blurted in shock.
Shintarō eyes were idle, staring into nothing before he squinted, focusing them. Oh, it was Kise—staring blankly at him before the most horrified expression ran across his face. “Midorimacchi, you swung that way?!”
***
Kise's to-die-for face beat red on one side with a faint knuckle print. He smiled awkwardly at the man across the table, arms and legs coldly crossed. "M-midorimacchi, there's no need to stay mad you know? I was just joking!" He sheepishly coaxed but it was a feat as impossible as a mouse taming a lion. "See, I'm even treating you to make up for it so please let this go?" He attempted again as the server of the expensive yakiniku restaurant he brought him to brought out the first platter of red meat. "See, doesn't this look good?" He said, as though patronizing a child, a gesture similar to what Kuroko sometimes did with Shintarō— one that made his blood boil.
"I am perfectly capable of functioning like an adult. Do not assume I hold petty grudges." Shintarō huffed as he picked up his chopsticks and procured a slice of meat to put on the hot plate.
"Yes yes of course" Kise humored. Despite all these years, Shintarō was still very behind with socially acceptable behaviour it seemed. He did however, acknowledged that if this were Middle School, it would be end-of-story immediately after he pulled a joke on him.
"But, I shouldn't have to hear about that next time." Shintarō added, flashing a warning.
Kise smiled, "alright, alright. Geez, do you dislike it that much? Hmm, you and that point guard of yours were pretty close in high school right? Don't those things come up as jokes?"
Shintarō flinched.
"Hey see?! That did happen!" exclaimed Kise.
"Tasteless, in my opinion. Besides, if we were to talk about leaning against homosexuality, wouldn't that be you?" Shintarō accused.
Kise wheeled around. "Me?"
Frowning at the can of beer before him with disdain, Shintarō eventually held it against his lips. "Yeah. In Middle School didn't you actually have something for Aomine and in High School...judging by how you two acted around each other, you guys had a fling didn't you?" He said before drinking a few sips.
Kise widened his eyes in horror. "What?! You knew?! Just from that?!"
Shintarō frowned. "What are you talking about. It was pretty obvious to most of us. We all knew."
Kise clasped the sides of his face. "E-even Kurokocchi?! No, not that!" He gasped, cursing his past to death. Shintarō merely took in the sight as he drank another gulp of the beer. Even though he was not a drinker, he supposed that this, along with his chance meeting with Kise was brought on by fate. His body needed a release after all.
"But yeah you're right," Kise said, sipping at his own beer while picking at the cooked meat with his chopsticks. "Though of course, Aominecchi and I never went into an actual relationship. It was just an in-the-moment type of thing."
"Ah yes, a moment in which Aomine finally became sexually frustrated enough from knowing posters of naked women were the closest thing he could get to an actual woman that he gave up and settled for you?"
"Wow, that's harsh!" Kise said. "But looking back, that was probably it. Well, it wasn't as though I was upset."
"Really? I was pretty sure you loved him." Shintarō replied, causing Kise to frown. Despite being utterly clueless with interacting properly, he was unnecessarily sharp about the others' feelings.
"Really? Well even if that were true, I've moved on now, Chie-chan is the one for me," Kise beamed. "Bet you're just jealous Midorimacchi!" He teased, planting yet another slice of meat onto his platter.
"Don't worry, that won't happen," said Shintarō nonchalantly, finally too used to his stupidity to retort. Kise made a noise in disappointment, heaving a large sigh.
"Ahh, Midorimacchi is no fun," he said, stretching his arms behind his back. "How do you even get along with your co-workers?"
"What are you talking about, I can get along with people just fine." Shintarō frowned, as if unjustly accused. The skeptical look remained on Kise's face. No. That was definitely not true.
"Hmm well I at least hope you're keeping in contact with the rest of us." Kise sighed.
"Yes. Unfortunately I am at this very moment." Shintarō replied.
Kise made an unattractive noise. Was it him or did Shintarō seem grouchier than usual? "Okay then how about anyone else? When I went to America for work I met with Aominecchi and Kagamicchi, saw Murasakicchi on French TV as some kind of pastry critic, and met with my teammates from Kaijou in Tokyo. How about you?"
"...You choose now to ask me about this?" Shintarō said, eyeing him with annoyance.
"Well, you never replied when I asked on the very first day!" Kise reminded indignantly.
"Hmph. Well, I suppose I could. But, the only ones I keep in contact with are Akashi and Ku-" Shintarō paused.
"Hm? Akashicchi and Ku?" Kise asked.
Shintarō parted his lips. "Kuh, kuh kuh!" he coughed, making such an unorthodox sound that only an idiot would take it for real
"Huh? Are you choking Midorimacchi, you okay?" said idiot asked, rushing to pass him his glass of water.
"N-no I'm fine now, my respiratory tract was only blocked." Shintarō declined.
"Uh even I can tell that still means you were choking." Kise said.
"Aside from that, I'm surprised. You didn't mention Kuroko at all in that long list of yours."
Kise froze, Shintarō flipping a switch he could never take back as a rampant burst of emotion bloomed in the man's voice. "Listen to this Midorimacchi! Even though Kurokocchi's been in contact with everyone else, he still never replies to my text other than the occasional one-liner! Isn't that cruel? Kagamicchi told me he was working as some kind of therapist or something in Tokyo but I have no idea where and no one will tell me his address! Why is Kurokocchi only ever mean to me?!"
Shintarō stared. "Isn't it because you're like this all the time?"
"Huh? What do you mean by like this? I'm only this way towards Kurokocchi!" Kise proclaimed proudly. "But then what about you? Have you been in contact with Kurokocchi then?"
His eyes twitched. "No, I have no reason to."
"Hah! So you can't criticize me at all!" Kise said triumphantly while Shintarō popped open his second can of beer and glugged. "But man that means out of all of us you're only keeping in touch with Akashicchi? That's pretty sad, "Kise laughed.
"Really? He seems the be the only logical one among you lot."
"True, you two are like the absolute nerd group," Kise admitted.
"Wouldn't Kuroko be in there too?"
"Well, Kurokocchi's grades weren't all that up there so nah," Kise shrugged.
"Should you with that unsightly 32% average be saying that?" Shintarō reminded.
"Hey! That was only for one semester okay! I raised everything to be above 50% by the end!" Kise cried to no avail.
"Pathetic" he said as their make-shift conversation continued into the night, or at least the next tWendy minutes until the tight-laced Shintarō shrugged.
It was a gesture that symbolized laziness, of apathy, two words so foreign to the image of Midorima Shintarō that it caused Kise to do a double-take. Kise trained his lazed eyes on Shintarō and noticed that the tip of his ears, hidden behind his green tuft, were burning red. "Wait, Midorimacchi, are you drunk?"
And Shintarō began burning. "Huh, what are you saying," he said with that eloquent tone. "I barely finished two beers. I don't have such a pitifully weak tolerance." He said with indignance but, something was off about the world he saw. Huh, for some reason he was speaking to a wall. No, this wasn't a wall, this was the floor.
"M-midorimacchi!" Kise cried, dropping his chopsticks and rushing to pick the man up.
Meeting a groggy expression so unbecoming of the rigid man, even Kise knew something was wrong. Pondering between leaving him him or taking him to a quieter place to cool down, his logic preceded him as he slung his arm over his shoulder. With much effort, particularly from the bouquet in his hand, he heaved him out of the restaurant. When when the night air slapped his face however, he finally noticed his own folly: where was he going to take him?
Of course, Kise planned on taking Midorima back home but in reality, he had forgotten he had no idea where he lived. "Oh screw it," he cursed. When considering his poor shoulders of having to lift a sleeping drunk, he immediately lost interest in thinking. "Taxi!" He yelled, raising his hand and deciding to head home.
***
In Kise's humble abode of a renovated three-bedroom flat near Ginza, Kise soon developed a deep urge to swap the drunk Shintarō for the real one. Having awoken and groggily accepting the sports drink Kise handed him, this Shintarō was much more easier to manage.
Watching him lean back into Kise's pillows, Kise silently praised the heavens for giving him a quiet and not so offensive Shintarō.
"...You have my thanks," Shintarō said, face facing away with certain dread. He was not drunk. He was type to get drunk fast and sober up a little slower than quick. However, he wished he had stayed drunk, for having to be helped by Kise of all people, was mortifying for him.
"Woah. Woah! M-midorimacchi did you say thanks to me?! Wow you really are still drunk!" Kise gaped in worry, Shintarō clenching his fists at the remark.
He had always been capable of saying thanks. Kise was clearly looking down on him. However, to prevent further humiliation, Shintarō stopped his imminent refute and played dead.
He sunk himself into the bed.
"Huh, Midorimacchi?"
Shintarō feigned a hang-over, silently gripping his head as he rolled to the side.
Kise blinked, concern flashing across his face. "Eh? Did you get a hang-over or something? I-I'll uhh, go get some medicine!" He said, rising up but stopped by a light tug on the hem of his shirt.
His eyes swooped down onto a pale Shintarō, eyes scrunched with weakness and vulnerability that caused Kise to almost leap into shock. "M-midorimacchi?" He faintly whispered, eyes spinning with uncertainty before Shintarō lightly parted his lips.
"...bucket."
"Huh?"
"Kise, get me a bucket too." Shintarō said and drained the blood out of Kise's face.
"Y-you, are you sick? Y-you couldn't possibly need to pu-"
Shintarō let out a pained smile.
Fuck.
"I-I'm gonna get the bucket!" Kise yelled, running for the washroom. Shintarō watched him go, a victorious smirk smeared across his lips. Hmph, all those years of dealing with Takao's trickiness were finally paying off. He could do it to if he applied himself. Man proposes, God disposes.
Yet, unable to go anywhere, he swapped on his glasses and found himself scouring Kise's room. The room was incredibly simplistic, with hardly any personalization. Not even a basketball. What stood out against this stylistic room of the modern rich, was an object that did not belong. There was a picture frame by his desk, large enough for him to discern that it was Kise happily smiling with an arm draped around a woman . He got up, moving closer to see. Her hair was a deep chestnut, her expression warm and gentle. She was unlike any of the flashy girls that followed after his heels in middle school. He was supposed to be into those rowdy types, heck even Aomine was rowdy. However, it seemed that over these years, even Kise had matured. So this was Chie.
Standing in front of the frame, Shintarō could feel a clock ticking behind his head. Brushing it off, he focused on letting that sense of small happiness wash over him. In the end, he was happy for Kise. Despite her looks, there had to have been something twisted about her to propose such a demanding task but, to have been able to give the self-centered and cocky man the ability to hold someone so dearly, Shintarō found no complaints.
Tick.
Tock.
He frowned.
"M-midorimacchi! I finally found the medicine and the bucket are you okay?!" Kise cried, bursting into the room.
Shintarō turned his head to the door. "Kise."
Kise paled upon seeing him up and about. "N-no, did you already do it?!" He gasped as he rushed to his bed, looking for that censored puddle.
"Stop looking, I didn't!" Shintarō scowled indignantly, unable to deter the blond from further investigation. When Kise was finished with being a comical fool, Shintarō released a deep sigh."Hey Kise, you're still in showbiz right?"
Kise perked up. "Huh? Yeah, though now I'm mostly doing acting," Kise replied. "But, are you sure you're alrigh-" He was stopped by a glare.
Well, at least it didn't look like he was drunk anymore.
"I see. Then you better learn to pace yourself properly after marriage." advised Shintarō.
"Huh?"
"Chie-san right? I doubt any woman would enjoy constantly waiting for a man who barely comes home."
Kise blinked. "Oh!" His eyes darted towards the photo. "Oh..." he trailed with a smile, slowly morphing into a beam. "Thanks Midorimacchi! Does this mean you'll continue to help me?"
"I'm not helping you. You're just strengthening my pay." Shintarō retorted, heading for the door.
"Wow, give-and-take huh?"
"Yeah so excuse me while I go use your washroom."
Kise jumped. "Huh?! Are you really going to barf?" but Shintarō had already slammed down the door. Annoying. Just annoying.
Even so, he made him somehow feel that he was moving too. In motion with the ticks and the tocks. With a small smile, Shintarō searched for the washroom. On his way to what he assumed to be it however, he passed a door left slightly ajar. He froze.
At the foot of the door, was a single dead flower petal. Slowly realizing that it was connected to a stem half hidden in the shadows of the room, Shintarō drew closer. An ominous air emanated from the room. Even so, he was being pulled.
He stared at the dried flower, forget-me-not, as he leaned in, instantly overwhelmed by the scent of flowers. His eyes flew up in confusion. The scent was not of one but a variety, swirled into cacophony. Among them, lay the distinct scent of rot. Gulping, he crept forward, glancing back at Kise's closed bedroom door. He sucked in a breath, and looked into the other side.