The florist's had never been so busy before, but here you were hauling in boxes and boxes of flower orders your aunt had just placed to keep the stocks up in the shop. There was a large truck in the back parking lot that was filled with many floral arrangements. How many did your aunt even order? Too many to count. There was barely any room left at the display windows, so you had no choice but to push them towards your desk, where they almost crowded the cash register. You would have to deal with them later, there were more out back.

You thanked the delivery man, signed your name on his clipboard, and stood looking in disbelief at the rows of pots and plants that were lined at your feet as he drove away. Where were you going to find the time and spot to put them? With a sigh, you picked up the first pot of orchids and tugged it inside, searching carefully. At least the shop hadn't opened yet, so you still had some time. However, you had to hurry. Any passerby might see the row of flowers outside an empty parking lot and think it was weird. You checked your watch: 45 minutes until opening hours to move 60 pots of flowers. You were in trouble.

Feeling like a retard, you ran up the stairs to your room and began fixing the flower pots all over the floor of your room. Besides, if you ran out of one kind of flower, you'd just have to run right up there and bring one down, pretending it was your second stock room. Right? No one would know. Except maybe your aunt might have a fit when she comes to visit, yelling about how the flowers don't have proper sunlight and water supply. Speaking of, the ones downstairs probably don't either. Oops.

You fish around the real storage room for the watering can and take it to the sink, impatiently waiting for it to fill up with water. You had ten minutes left until opening time. Hurriedly, you dragged the watering can over to the row of flowers spread in a row under grow lights, lightly sprinkling water over their delicate petals. Why was such a small watering can so heavy?

You stepped back to admire how fast you'd gotten it done. Then you cringed. Hopefully you hadn't drowned the flowers. They looked fine; presentable at least. As a florist's assistant, that was good enough for you. Your aunt could check on it later.

You flipped the closed sign over to open and ran upstairs quickly to bring two more flower pots down, just for presentation. Although there was practically no room on your counter, you managed to squish them both on there without knocking over any of them. You heard the bell ring in front of the store as someone pushed open the door hurriedly.

"Yes hello, welcome to-" You stopped short in your tracks when you realized just who had stepped foot in your store: one of your favorite regular customers, Xu Minghao. He also served as your current secret crush. Your heart bloomed just like the flowers in the shop whenever you saw him, and you definitely felt lighter around his presence. There was something about him that distinguished him from other guys that girls usually had a crush on: although he seemed shy, he didn't care about things like people seeing a teenage boy hanging around in a florist's shop. No one called him a loser for it, either, because they knew Minghao had his reasons.

"H-hi," Minghao blurted, turning an alarming shade of red in the face. Was he sick? Was it hot in here? Come to think of it...

Maybe the fact that a teenage boy coming to the flower shop was starting to eat at him. But you didn't mind. You could stare at him admiring your floral arrangements all day, and every day you tried to perfect the arrangements to his liking. "Um, do you need any help finding a specific type of flower?"

"No thanks, I'm fine." He smiled straight at you...wait, it wasn't like there was someone else in the room. 

"Oh, um, feel free to look around!" You cringed. What were you doing? Didn't he already say he was fine? Why did you keep bothering him?

"Yeah I will, thank you," he said, and knelt down so that his eye level was parallel to that of a pot of sunflowers. He was so close that his nose was almost buried in the petals. You thought it was a funny image and almost burst out laughing, but then you remembered that you hated your laugh, and besides, you'd rather not disturb the silence in the shop right now.

Just you and Minghao...this was the way it should be.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The florist's was one heck of a busy place. Were there really that many people who wanted to buy flowers? All the times you had read about florists in books, they'd always had a quiet, tranquil attitude, not some busy, rushed attitude. Plus, the literal flower boys who worked there were always described so prettily and cutesy and here you were...scared you were going to knock over one of the pots on your counter. 

"Ma'am, can I get a pot of lilies, please?"

"I still haven't gotten my order of a six set amaryllis and astible mix."

"Do you have any sunflower arrangements left?" Minghao grinned crookedly at you and jokingly hid the sunflower pot he was admiring earlier behind his body secretly.

"Yes, I'll be right there..." you called, barely hearing your own voice. What was it, roses, orchids, sunflowers? Or daffodils, carnations, sunflowers? All you remembered were the sunflowers hidden behind Minghao's body, and you hurried to get them. Minghao sighed like he had been caught red-handed, but he smiled to let you know he was still joking. You rolled your eyes and dragged the damn heavy thing back to the counter, where the first two customers in line stood patiently waiting for their...delphiniums and irises. Sweet peas and lilac. 

"Lilies, amaryllis, and astible!" you shouted, the sound of you snapping your fingers echoing off the walls of the small, cramped shop. You looked around at all the faces staring at you. "I-I'm sorry, I'll be right back."

You ran upstairs, oblivious to the fact that Minghao was watching you trip over the stairs towards your room in the shop. In fact, there were many things Minghao knew that you were oblivious to. There was the fact that he knew you lived up there, on the second floor of the building in which the florist's lay at the bottom of. He also knew that every night, after you closed the shop, you would open the balcony doors to your room, sometimes blasting your music while you did your homework, which the neighborhood never minded of, and water your hanging plants delicately before closing the doors again. Sometimes he rode his bike here, and as he was wheeling away, he would see your figure in the dim light of your room. He knew you lived independently, as you had been given the spare room on top of the florist's ever since you started working there by your aunt. He knew all these things about your life and yet he still didn't know how to talk to you. 

You appeared at the bottom of the stairs again, dragging the designated flower pots with you and handing them to the right customers. Minghao sighed, waiting patiently as he rocked back and forth on his small heels, curling his feet along the insides of the rubber soles as he stalled for time. He couldn't wait to get started with the new project he had planned in mind, and he really needed your help. But it seemed like you were too busy to notice him standing there. A bit dejected, he turned back to the flowers, now remembering you had snatched his sunflowers away. He chuckled to himself and began to browse along the rows, selecting a new flower in his mind. 

The sound of a ringing bell and the clicking of cashier keys rang throughout the shop all day. Minghao was getting tired of waiting. He stood up and suddenly saw a spare apron hanging off a crooked nail in the wall. He scrambled up to get it and tied it on himself. You looked at him increduously. What was he getting himself into?

"Let me help you," he said, sliding into a spot at the counter next to you. You smiled so big