The shop was quiet. Way too quiet.
Outside, the streetlights fought to shine through the fogged glass. The rain hammered against the windows like it held a grudge against the world. Suddenly, a sharp click of the radio cracked the silence, and a gentle tune slipped into the shop, tangling with the scent of flowers and wet dirt.
The street outside told a different story. People rushed past, heads ducked, trying to outrun the rain's merciless tears. The sky was so heavy with clouds you could almost mistake it for midnight. You'd be surprised to know it was only noon.
From the dim corner of the shop, a boy stepped into the light. His light brown hair hair fell into his eyes in loose strands, like he'd just rolled out of bed. He smiled slowly, an uneven grin that adorned a small gap between his teeth.
Joseph hummed a tune under his breath, his voice as smooth as honey and as light as paper. A quiet clank of metal followed, then the gentle patter of water hitting damp soil, almost defiantly peaceful against the storm's restless percussion outside.
It was his first official day of opening the shop, a flower shop, to be specific. Maybe the prettiest on the street. Well… at least according to Joseph.
The boy moved gracefully between the rows of plants, watering them with the kind of cinematic care only seen in the movies. He tutted at the thin film of dust clinging to the shelves, glaring at it like it were an ugly zit on his face. Every time thunder cracked, he froze like a deer caught in headlights, only to laugh at himself a moment later.
This is it. No more drama, no more mess. Just peace.
After straightening the same shelf twice and fussing with pots that didn't really need fussing, Joseph sank into the chair behind the counter, his eyes darting to the door periodically. He wasn't really expecting anyone to wander in during a storm like this, but it was nice to pretend, for a little while anyway.
An hour passed, then another, Joseph sat, waiting, half-lulled by the low hum of the lights and the endless patter of rain. The dark landscape outside reminded him of being under the warm covers of his bed, as if the world was wrapped under a blanket of clouds.
His eyes landed on the little plant by the counter, the stubborn thing hadn't grown a single flower. Just leaves, like it was showing off how green it could be. Joseph sighed, dragging a fingertip over one leaf.
"What am I gonna do with you?," he whispered. Maybe it was waiting for something. Maybe it was too scared to bloom just yet.
Then, there was laughter. It was bright, warm but faint altogether. It spilled into the shop like a light suddenly flickered on. Definitely not meant for him, though it didn't stop his chest from giving an embarrassing little tug. For a heartbeat, he caught himself staring at the door with a glimmer of renewed hope. But the bell didn't ring. The laughter soon slipped away. And, well, life wasn't a romance novel. Right?
After a moment or two, the rain had slowed down to a drizzle, thunder fading like it was embarrassed for making such a scene. Joseph noticed the condensation fogging up the shop's front windows and frowned at the blurry view outside.
So, naturally, he grabbed a rag and got to work. The cloth squeaked across the window in a noise so hideous it made him wince.
"Beautiful," he muttered sarcastically, ears ringing.
But like the child he mentally was, he couldn't resist doodling on the glass. He drew a smiley face, wiped it away. A flower, wiped it away too. A badly shaped cat that looked more like a potato with ears, also wiped away. He grinned despite himself.
But then, his grin froze.
Through the cleared glass, as the street sharpened into focus, he saw someone. A figure leaning against the fence nonchalantly across the street.
He looked like he'd stepped straight out of one of those teen vampire paperbacks, the ones with cheesy titles and shirtless men on the cover that made Joseph feel personally violated every time he spotted them in public. His skin was pale, his eyes shadowed beneath messy black hair that fell into them no matter how many times he brushed it aside. Freckles scattered across his face like starlight, softening the sharpness of his gaze.
Joseph's heart stuttered.
Holy shit…
His eyes darted down, taking in everything, the damp shoes, the umbrella slanted over his shoulder, the way he moved with that impossible mix of sharpness and grace. Joseph thought, just for a second, that he should invite him inside. It was freezing after all. But then the figure looked up. Looked at him.
Joseph's brain glitched instantly. His cheeks caught fire. He'd been staring for, what, an hour? A decade? Definitely long enough to be labeled as "weird". With a gasp, he snapped his head back toward the glass, scrubbing at an imaginary stain like his life depended on it.
The weight of being watched burned into him. Surely the stranger was judging. Surely he looked insane. But then, curiosity won. Joseph glanced back just in time to see the figure stepping away, walking down the street until he was out of sight.
Joseph collapsed against the window with a groan, face buried in his hands.
"Great. Perfect. Amazing. I just stared at a random stranger like a total creep. He probably thinks I'm a pervert or something."
He finished the windows in record time, but the boy lingered stubbornly in his head, every detail replaying like a cruel rerun. By the time he slumped back at the counter, guilt gnawed at him inside out.
"Why did I do that?" he muttered. "He probably thinks I'm a pervert. Do I look like a pervert?"
The plant on the counter did not disagree.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," Joseph muttered. "I'm not a stalker. I'm was just looking…and observing..."
Silence.
"Okay, fine, that sounds worse."
He paused. Then sighed.
"Fantastic. Now I'm talking to plants. What is wrong with me?"
He buried his face in his hands, swearing he never wanted to see the boy again. Except, he didn't mean it. Not even a little.
As the afternoon dragged on, his brain refused to shut up. He kept sneaking peeks at the street, like the boy would respawn there all of a sudden. Before long, he was firing off the dumbest questions imaginable, all towards the plant he swore not to talk to just a few moments ago.
"Does he look like a cat person or a dog person?"
"His hair kinda looks like broccoli… do you think he hates broccoli? Does he even own a comb?"
"What kind of music do you think he listens to?"
The plant didn't reply.
The next day, it was raining again. Not as heavily as the day before, just a faint drizzle that made the streets glimmer under the streetlights. Joseph sat in the same old chair, doing the same old things, once again ranting to the plant on his counter about the boy across the street.
"Ugly. Completely and utterly hideous," Joseph declared, sprinkling fertilizer everywhere except inside the plant pot.
The plant swayed lazily under the ceiling fan, as if unimpressed.
"Cut it out," Joseph muttered. "If you saw a plant you found cute, wouldn't you think about it all the time?"
The hours dragged on after that. A few curious customers wandered in, poked at bouquets, smiled politely, and left empty-handed. By noon, Joseph was slumped over the counter, exhausted and frustrated. He didn't get it. His flowers looked fine, they definitely smelled fine. So why didn't anyone want them?
However, despite his declaration from earlier, he kept glancing at the door. Over and over. Not in hopes for customers, but in hopes that maybe, just maybe, the boy from yesterday might come back.
The plant seemed to shake its head at him, leaves rustling with disapproval.
"Oh, please," Joseph groaned. "I'm not waiting. I'm just… looking."
Then, ding. His phone lit up with his very first order.
Joseph nearly jumped out of his chair.
"Finally!" He scrambled for his phone, almost falling off his chair at the notion.
Within minutes, Joseph had his first order packed and ready to go. Everything was in perfect order, no mistakes, no disasters, just him, his carefully arranged flowers, and a sense of quiet triumph.
This is it. My first order.
He hopped on his bike, chest puffed with pride, and pedaled down the street, imagining the look of delight on whoever would receive the bouquet. He was halfway through picturing the dramatic delivery when something out of the corner of his eye yanked him from his daydream.
The boy.
Under a tree like he owned the block, headphones in, soda can dangling from his fingers, leaning casually against the fence. Joseph froze mid-pedal, eyes glued to him, heart thundering. For a brief, perfect moment, he forgot how to steer.
And almost kissed a lamp post with his face.
Joseph slammed the brakes, wobbling dangerously, cheeks aflame, and swore he saw the boy had somehow smiled at him, or maybe that was just his delusions talking. Either way, by the time he looked back, the figure had disappeared around the corner.
Back at the shop, Joseph threw his helmet on the counter, face red as he panted and muttered curses under his breath.
"Why does he keep showing up at the worst times?! I nearly died because of him!"
The plant on the counter remained silent, leaves unmoved. Joseph imagined it rolling its eyes at him.
"It's not my fault! Totally his fault! I wasn't distracted. I was, um… situationally challenged!"
The plants seemed to whisper among themselves as Joseph paced, ranting and gesturing dramatically. He muttered about how the boy clearly had some plan to sabotage his life, how the universe conspired against him, and how no one could possibly be that annoying and interesting at the same time.
By evening, the rain had passed. The clouds rolled away, leaving a clear night sky. Joseph watered his plants one last time, their leaves sparkling faintly in the moonlight. He took a deep breath, savoring the silence
But his thoughts drifted back to that boy. The way he leaned against the fence, the way he sipped his soda, the headphones that made him seem entirely unbothered by the world. Joseph's chest felt tight with a strange mix of irritation, curiosity, and, he hated to admit it, something like longing.
I should be at peace. I'm finally alone… so why is my brain obsessed with him?
He locked the shop door with a faint click, pocketed the key, and walked home under the silver wash of moonlight. Each step echoed softly on the empty street, his breath visible in the cool night air. The world was quiet now, but his thoughts were loud, tangled with the memory of a boy who seemed determined to haunt him in the most inconvenient ways.
The plant on the counter, if it could, probably would have sighed on his behalf.
Joseph, however, just shook his head, muttering to himself.
"It's not like I'm interested… no, not at all. Definitely not."
And yet, somehow, as he walked home, he couldn't stop thinking about him.
The next day, Joseph was blessed, if you could call it that, with a mountain of orders and a surprising number of walk-ins who actually liked his work. For the first time in years, he found himself smiling, really smiling, even if only two or three customers actually bought something.
Still, the happiness felt incomplete. Like a bouquet missing its centerpiece. No matter how many times he tried to ignore it, the hollow ache in his chest kept circling back to the same boy. Joseph had half-expected the daydreams to fade, but apparently he was a fool. They only got worse. So bad, in fact, that he didn't even notice a customer calling his name until he realized he'd been staring glassy-eyed out the shop window for who knows how long.
By noon, he was slumped over the counter again, internally sobbing and giving himself lecture after lecture about being a creep. That's when the shop bell jingled, followed by the soft click of footsteps against the wooden floor.
Joseph straightened instantly, only to find an old lady wandering the store, her eyes twinkling with interest. She was small and draped in a pale coat. Her pearls jingled as she shuffled through the store, her small smile lighting up her wrinkled face.
Before he quite realized it, they were knee-deep in a conversation about gardening, fertilizer ratios, soil quality, the whole deal. Joseph discovered she kept a small vegetable patch of her own.
"Yes, my dear… I adore gardening. Such a shame people don't appreciate it anymore…" she said, smacking her lips dramatically. Then she lowered her voice as though sharing gossip.
"Why, on my way here, I passed that Castillo boy. All dressed in black, hair over his eyes, scared me half to death!"
Joseph froze mid-nod.
"…Was he pale? With freckles on his face?"
The old lady squinted, then nodded. "Yes, I believe so. Why? Do you know him?"
Joseph shook his head far too quickly, but the heat blooming across his cheeks betrayed him. Thankfully, she didn't notice.
"Well then. I must be on my way. Ta-ta, dear." She patted his hand kindly before leaving, her pearls rattling like wind chimes.
Joseph stood there in stunned silence.
So his name's Castillo, huh?
His lips twitched, then curved into a smile. Seconds later, he was grinning like an idiot, muffling a squeal into his hands.
"That name sounds so cute, don't you think?!" he whispered, fanning himself like a character in a cheesy period drama. Images of the boy, Castillo, rushed through his head until he slammed the brakes on his imagination.
"No. Stop it. You can't get attached to some kid you don't even know!" He buried his face in his palms, groaning. "What am I doing?!"
He inhaled deeply, trying to calm down.
"…Though it is a cute name, right?"
The plant on the counter, in his mind, gave him the flattest stare imaginable.
When night fell over the shop once more, Joseph had already muttered the name "Castillo" about a thousand times, give or take. If someone had been keeping tally marks on the counter, the wood would've been scarred beyond repair by now.
He almost pitied the poor plants forced to sit through his rambling obsession. Roses wilted slightly, daisies drooped, and even the stubborn little cactus in the corner seemed to glare at him as though begging for mercy.
Still, Joseph couldn't help it. The name rolled off his tongue like honey, smooth and dramatic, as if it had been plucked straight from the pages of some tragic romance novel.
"Such a cool name," he sighed, leaning against his broom like it was a dance partner. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned to the plant on his counter. "I think I should call you Castillo, huh?"
The plant appeared to shake its head in disdain.
Joseph squinted at it. "Nah, don't worry. I'm only joking."
He chuckled at his own ridiculousness and went back to sweeping the floor with a vigor that hadn't existed an hour ago. Each stroke of the broom was exaggerated, like he was practicing for a Broadway role no one asked him to play. He even hummed a little tune under his breath, the kind that looped endlessly because he didn't know the rest of the lyrics.
The plants watched, or at least, he swore they did. Their silence carried judgment.
Joseph leaned on the broom with mock seriousness, as though giving a lecture to the plants. One second he was cursing himself for being a creep, and the next he was mentally drafting poetry about some boy's last name. Clearly, this wasn't weakness, it was fate.
He pressed a hand to his chest and gave an exaggerated sigh, nearly tipping backward in melodrama.
Then he laughed again, softer this time, the sound echoing around the shop.
For a flicker of a moment, Joseph wondered if he had gone completely insane. Falling for a stranger he'd seen 2 days ago? He snorted at the thought, but the warmth in his chest didn't go away.
No, it wasn't sane. Not even close. But when he whispered "Castillo" again, under his breath like it was forbidden, it felt good. Too good to stop.