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milo-my-beloved · 1 year

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things we don't say

A continuation of the some other life 'verse.

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Chapter Two: The Crows

Jesper drums his fingers against his thigh.

He's not one to talk right now, but Inej doesn't look well. She moves slower than she used to, as if the weight of the world is drowning her. The break up must have hit her harder than he thought.

She is really not going to like his plan to rescue Wylan.

"Have you ever heard of Jan Van Eck?" he asks.

Inej shakes her head, zipping up her coat. "Should I know him?"

"He's a rich business owner who lives in one of those mansions in the Financial District. Unfortunately for us, he's also Wylan's dad."

She raises an eyebrow. "You want to break into a multi-millionaire's house? Jesper, his house will be crawling with security. We'll get caught."

"Have a little faith," he replies, but she's right. He drags a hand down his face. "We've got to try anyway. Wylan needs our help."

Inej's face softens at the mention of his fiance. There's a reason she always aces her religious studies and politics course; all Inej wants to do is to protect other people. She'll change the world someday, but today, he only needs her to change Wylan's.

"Where are we going?" she asks, half-jogging to keep up with Jesper.

He slows his pace. He forgets she has little legs. "My house. I've already convinced Nina and Matthias to help us out—"

"You're stealing my friends," she mutters.

"—And we bribed Wylan's tutor to pretend Wylan is with him for an hour, so Matthias is picking him up now."

He glances over at Inej, gauging her reaction. This is not the happy-go-lucky woman he spent time with last spring, and she's probably going to punch him when they turn the next corner.

He'll take it on the chin, though. Getting her to agree to the plan is the easy part. Getting her to stay is riskier.

Continue reading under the cut // Continue reading on AO3.

"How are we getting there?" she asks. "I have a 9am lecture tomorrow, so I don't want to be walking home at midnight because you..."

She trails off as they reach the front of the library, staring at the minivan with 'free candy' spray painted on the side. Folding her arms across her chest, she stops in her tracks and glares at Jesper.

"Seriously? Jes, I want to help you, but I can't..."

The break up may have happened months ago, but the pain in her eyes is fresh. He should have called her more often. He was so consumed with his own love life that he forgot to help his friends through theirs.

He expected anger, but Inej looks defeated. Neither of them would tell him what happened; Kaz shut him down with a sharp comment and his infamous glare, and Inej gave him a wishy-washy answer that didn't explain anything. But he can't say he's surprised. Kaz hates vulnerability more than anything else in the world, and Inej would never bad mouth anyone.

"I promise I'm not trying to set you up," Jesper says. "Kaz doesn't know you're here either. But you're both my friends, and I need all the help I can get."

She frowns, unconvinced. He doesn't blame her for being reluctant. No break up with Kaz Brekker would be pleasant.

"Please," he repeats. "We're on a deadline, so you'll only have to see him a few times. I need you, Inej. We do."

She sighs, shoving her hands in her coat pockets. She looks even smaller than usual in the near-darkness of the evening light.

"Fine. But he won't be happy about this either."

"When are either of you happy about the things I do?" he says, smiling. Then, quieter, "Thank you, 'Nej."

"I would say 'any time', but if you try this again, I'll get Zoya to kill you."

Jesper crosses his heart. "I promise to never make you free my kidnapped fiance with your ex-boyfriend ever again."

There's no humour in her laugh. "Let's get this over with, then."

They approach Kaz's van, and Jesper opens the passenger door and sticks his head through. "I brought an extra person," he says, forcing nonchalance into his voice. "Is there room in the back, or is that crate still there?"

"I dropped it off. Who?"

"Don't be mad at me..."

Kaz pinches the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand. "Really?"

Jesper shrugs. "We need all the help we can get. Please don't kill me."

"Fine." He glares at him, pointing at the back of the van. "But both of you sit in the back, or I might consider driving us off a bridge out of spite."

"Thank you!" Jesper slams the door shut and hurries to the back.

"He's alright with me coming?" asks Inej.

He chuckles nervously. "Yep. Totally."

Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline. "You're a terrible liar, Jes."

"I know."

He slides the door open, gesturing for her to climb in first because he's a gentleman, goddamnit. She hesitates briefly before straightening her posture and clambering in.

Jesper shuts the door behind him and pretends not to notice the tension in the air. On any other day, he'd be pestering the two of them to tell him what happened, but right now, all he can focus on is Wylan.

His stomach is rolling, and he can't tell whether it's because he hasn't eaten since breakfast, or because he hasn't seen his fiance in over a month.

Drunk Jesper may have been the one to propose, but it was Sober Jesper who spent hours comparing every (affordable) ring in the jewellers. It was Sober Jesper who trusted Kaz to keep the ring safe until the time was right. Maybe this is a whirlwind romance and they'll be divorced in a year, but even then, Wy doesn't deserve to live with his father's cruelty any more.

Kaz glances at Inej in the rearview mirror. "Where am I going?"

"My place," Jesper says. "I'll direct you."

Inej shrinks down in her seat, and they're off. They could have walked to his house, but he doesn't want to waste any of the precious hour he gets to spend with Wylan on something as boring as walking.

They pull up outside in a matter of minutes. Jesper leaps out of the van before Kaz can put the handbrake on.

He can see Wylan through the window of the living room. Nina and Matthias are pressed together on the red loveseat, but Wylan is alone on the armchair, his back to the driveway.

Jesper bursts through the front door, hoping Kaz and Inej don't kill each other while they're alone. He throws himself through the door to the living room, and stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees Wylan.

Even with his tangled hair and red-rimmed eyes, he's exactly how Jesper remembered him.

"Jes," he says, slowly rising to his feet.

Jesper crosses the last few feet of distance, barrelling into him and hugging him tightly.

"I missed you too," Wylan says. Jesper can feel his smile against his chest.

"Of course you did." He swallows back the tears clogging up his throat. He's Jesper Fahey, he's not about to cry in front of all his friends. "I'm fabulous."

Wylan laughs. It's a relieved, choked sound, but it's music to Jesper's ears.

"You didn't take your boots off," Matthias grumbles, but he doesn't stand up to do anything about it. There's a loud thud as Nina smacks him. "What? They're tracking mud in."

Jesper reluctantly breaks away from Wylan, but clings onto his hand just as tight as his hug. They don't have long, but if this all goes to plan, they'll be spending the rest of their lives together.

He plonks himself down on the armchair, tugging Wylan into his lap.

Inej and Kaz walk into the room together, refusing to meet each other's eyes. Nina's eyes darken; she must know too. Matthias and Wylan, however, are clueless.

"How are you two! I haven't seen you in ages!" Wylan says, beaming.

Inej and Kaz both realise they're going to have to share a couch at the same time, and they lower themselves onto opposite ends of the leather, leaving as much room between them as possible.

"I'm alright," says Inej, unconvincing. It's a bold-faced lie, but neither Matthias or Wylan seems to notice. Nina, on the other hand, looks ready to throttle Kaz. "Are you doing well, all things considered?"

Wylan shrugs. "I think Jesper is insane, but that's nothing new."

"Hey!"

"If it works, I'll feel much better, thank you."

"What is your plan, exactly?" Kaz asks.

Jesper rubs his forehead. "Well... I only really had the beginnings of one—"

"Seriously?"

Matthias shakes his head. "You're all doomed."

"What do you have so far, then?" asks Inej. Her tone is encouraging, but Jesper can tell she's nearing the end of her tether.

"I talked to the university, and they said that if Wylan wants to re-enrol, he has to do it by Monday."

"That's a deadline, not a plan," Kaz says.

Jesper huffs. "I'm getting there. Wylan tells me that Jan Van Eck happens to be hosting a party at his mansion on Friday. All we have to do is sneak Wylan out of the house, elope, and move him in with us before dear old daddy notices."

"Oh, is that it?" Nina says, faking a yawn. "Sounds like a piece of cake."

Kaz steeples his gloved fingers under his chin. "What kind of party?"

Jesper looks at Inej, raising an eyebrow as if to say, see, this is why I invited him.

"All his rich friends," Wylan says. "They make business deals and parade their wealth around for a few hours, and everyone goes home happy."

"Sounds insufferable," Nina says.

"How many guests?" asks Kaz.

Wylan shrugs. "Fifty? It's not a dinner party, because they take up the entire mansion, but it's not an open invitation either."

"Entertainment, then?"

"A band, sometimes. And usually some performers doing a scene from the Komedie Brute."

Kaz stares out of the window above Jesper and Wylan's head, his eyes unfocused.

"Scheming face," Jesper whispers.

"Definitely," Wylan replies.

Even Inej is smiling.

"We split up," Kaz says, after a while. "Half of us can escort Wylan to the courthouse, and half of us make sure Van Eck doesn't realise his precious son is missing."

"How do we do that?" Matthias asks. "None of us can pretend to be Wylan, and Van Eck will notice if five uninvited teenagers show up to his party."

"That's why we go in as the entertainment." Kaz looks around the room, assessing all of them. "Does anyone have any special skills that could pass as a performance?"

"Bowling?" Jesper offers.

"Matthias can speak to fish?" Nina says.

"I can play the flute?" Wylan suggests.

"No to all of those. How are you supposed to be the distraction for your own escape?"

Wylan flushes red and buries his face in Jesper's shoulder. "I don't know," he says, his voice muffled.

"Acrobatics," Inej says, her voice barely audible.

For a moment, Jesper thinks Kaz is going to ignore her. He acknowledges the new information with a slight tilt of his head. "Nina?"

"Other than baking and flirting?"

"Flirting isn't a skill," Matthias grumbles.

She winks at him. "It worked on you, didn't it?"

Kaz shakes his head. "Then Jesper, Nina, Matthias, you're rescuing Wylan. Inej and I can keep Van Eck distracted."

Inej stiffens, but she doesn't protest.

"I'm just glad I'm not in the middle of those two," Jesper whispers into Wylan's ear.

They're running out of time. Soon, Wylan will have to leave again. His tutor will pass a message along to him on Thursday, but if everything goes wrong, this could be the last time Jesper sees him.

How had he come to rely on another person so quickly? His entire life, Jesper has caused his own problems, and so far, he's solved them all without much help.

But, since the moment his drunken fist accidentally connected with Wylan's face, he's been dragged into his fiance's orbit, and he never wants to leave.

Kaz pushes himself to his feet with his cane. "I'll have to call in a few favours. Wylan, I'll need you to draw a map of the house. I'll get in touch with the rest of you when I need you."

He makes it all the way into the hallway before stopping.

"Inej, do you need a lift back to campus?" he asks, his back turned to her.

All eyes are on her as she considers it. Eventually, she says, "If you don't mind."

Jesper waggles his eyebrows at Nina. He wasn't lying when he said that this isn't a matchmaking scheme, but he's still going to take all the credit if it ends up fixing their relationship anyway.

Nina mimes stabbing him and Inej smiles, but shakes her head. Rising gracefully to her feet, she waves goodbye to them and follows Kaz to his van.

No one speaks until they've driven off.

"Christ, that was awkward," Nina exhales.

"Was it?" asks Wylan, frowning.

"They broke up," Jesper explains. "Fuck knows why. Neither of them will say."

"I'm going to hoover," Matthias declares. "Unlike you, I want my deposit back."

Nina follows him into the kitchen, muttering something about waffles.

"We've still got fifteen minutes," Wylan says, looking up at Jesper.

The streetlight outside glows yellow through the window, bracketing his ginger curls in an artificial halo.

"There's a lot of things we can do in fifteen minutes," Jesper says, grinning. They may not have much time, but you'd better believe he's going to make the most of it.

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #six of crows #kanej #wesper #helnik #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #matthias helvar #my writing #lina lore #mmb writes #the things we don't say #sabpromptweek2023

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

you shine, i'll shine for you

pairing: alina starkov/genya safin, background nina zenik/matthias helvar

fandom: shadow and bone (tv)

rating: general

word count: 5163

warning: referenced cheating, swearing

summary: Genya thought she’d seen it all, until today, where a young person her age rushes through the door and approaches her with a strange question, “What sort of flowers do you get to tell someone to go fuck themselves?” (flower shop au)

(a fluffy au that’s been loooong underway !! inspired by this post, naturally. had a bit too much fun searching up flower meanings as well so... hope you enjoy!)

read on ao3

Genya believes flowers speak their own language.

They show love, adoration, and everything in between, and there’s a reason they’re used for most special occasions, she thinks; although a staple gift when you barely know someone, they’re also an invitation to get to know someone better.

Like Nina and Matthias. It didn’t surprise her in the least that he wanted to ask Nina out, alas, he asked Genya for help on the bouquet, since he just started. The look on her friend’s face when she told her about their fast date was too precious.

And naturally, this is why she opened her little flower shop in the first place. She loved the area, homely and cozy, the atmosphere and the residents.

She’s helped their clients with gifts for any situation you could think of; a last minute anniversary gift, flower arrangements for that big fairytale wedding, the perfect Mother’s Day bouquet, and the businessman getting flowers for his beloved sister’s grave touched her deeply.

Genya thought she’d seen it all, until today, where a young person her age rushes through the door and approaches her with a strange question, “What sort of flowers do you get to tell someone to go fuck themselves?”

She’s simply baffled by the request.

The client’s got restless hands and fire in their eyes, dark hair in a braided bun and wearing a baby blue dress, neck and ears dressed with gold jewelry and a matching septum piercing. They’re almost glowing in the late autumn sun, to be completely honest.

In fact, they’re already reaching for their purse, while Genya tries to work through her confusion and do her best - this is an assignment like any other, she reminds herself, this is her job.

“Oh, uh, depends on the occasion, really…” she starts, and since the customer in front of her curses themself as they find their wallet, the clear anger on their face intensifying, she figures she’ll need to keep her cool, “If I may ask?”

In customer service you’ll have to deal with rude clientele, God knows Genya has, and although this person in no way seems like that type of person, she still keeps it a priority to not upset them anymore than someone else already has.

She smiles, giving them less of her staple customer service smile, more a hesitant smile because the client also sniffs, and wipes their eyes rather stubbornly before looking back at her.

They’re also more beautiful than sunflowers in bloom, that much is obvious. But someone’s hurt them, and it makes Genya’s heart ache for them with a stinging kind of certainty.

“Sure,” they reply, sniffling again, “My boyfriend’s cheated on me for the second time.”

Second time? Dear God.

Genya doesn’t even know this man, but she does know he’s an asshole, mind the language. She’s sure she must look shocked, because the client chuckles bitterly, clutching their wallet a bit tighter.

“I just need him to fuck off for good. It’s long overdue, really.”

She decides to smile again, nodding, hoping she’s conveying her sympathy right, “I understand.”

And since she gets a timid smile back, albeit still with clenched fists down their side, it makes Genya a little more sure of herself again. If the person wasn’t pretty before, they’re even prettier now. She mentally curses whoever this man is for making them this angry, and making them cry. No one deserves that, but especially not them, Genya thinks.

Luckily it’s a Monday, a slow day for flower sales, and they’re the only customer inside, so she’s reaching for her encyclopedia immediately.

“I do know a bit about flower meanings,” she explains to them, “It’s not common knowledge, but I got a few ideas.”

The client nods, satisfied, and their eyes turn a little less angry and more curious.

“What’s your budget?” she asks while flickering through the pages, and the person in front of her takes less than a second to answer, “The biggest you got, he- We were supposed to go to Paris, so I’ve been saving up. Got some money to blow.”

What a fucking douchebag. Again, excuse the language, but this really sounds like the sort of person who’s drink she would gladly spit in. She might be really excited for this bouquet, now. Serves him right.

Everything that jumps to her mind should be in stock, actually. Genya’s never had to look up negative meanings to the flowers before, admittedly, but she does find some scribbled notes in what appears to be Nina’s handwriting next to the black roses. Revenge roses. Okay, maybe a bit too sinister, but she’ll keep them in mind.

She finds herself moving out behind the counter before she knows it, and when she picks up the first bunch she notices her client looking over her shoulder in an adorable kind of confusion, so Genya speaks up, “These are yellow carnations, they signal disappointment.”

They nod again, the small smile on their lips growing just an inch brighter. Their hands seem more relaxed, she finds herself noticing.

“Perfect,” they approve, “Is there a hate flower, you think?”

The bluntness no longer surprises her, and since the client huffs at themselves, Genya returns the smile with more certainty. Fair enough, she decides.

“Yes, surprisingly enough,” she chuckles, “Orange lilies. I also have foxglove for insincerity?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I thought so,” Genya likes this person, she decides, probably way more than she should for a complete stranger, but… can you blame her?

She likes the guts it takes to make a bouquet like this, to be honest. And it’s like they keep getting prettier and prettier the more Genya looks at them, is that crazy? Probably. Matthias would roll his eyes at her, but she and Nina both know how cheesy he actually is, so whatever.

This client is also getting a hate bouquet for a soon-to-be-ex, though, so she’s real with herself, she can’t allow herself to get attached or anything. Would be unprofessional, regardless, but she can admire them anyway, right?

“What else, what else…” Genya wanders a bit more, her client following in tow, she’s got the centerpieces, but the white of this flower would add nicely to the overall look, “Meadowsweet! It, uh, it stands for uselessness.”

The person in front of her lights even more up at the suggestion. She’s thrilled, because honestly, not only helping them but also maybe, possibly impressing this client is suddenly very important to her.

“Alright, I think that’ll do nicely,” she finally tells them, writing the names and price ranges down on her notepad. “Unless you want to add some geraniums, too?” The customer looks at the sample she shows them, biting their lip in contemplation.

“It’s beautiful,” they confess.

“It is,” she agrees, “But it also signals stupidity.”

They laugh at that, a ringing sound like bells or… butterfly wings, maybe. This is just about making Genya’s whole week right now.

“Yeah, I need those.”

And so it’s decided, and she returns to her counter with the notes and shows the client the different bouquet sizes. She figures they might need a card, too, “I don’t have any ‘Fuck you’ cards, unfortunately. Will a blank one be alright?”

They nod, more eager than ever.

“Actually,” they’re running their finger over the sheet with the sizes before looking back at Genya again, “I know this is a big ask, but I was gonna leave the bouquet at his office. Do you think… we could, maybe, cover his desk in these flowers?”

Yet another suggestion that has her standing wide-eyed.

The client chuckles at themself again and fumbles a strand of hair behind their ear, “I’ll pay whatever it costs, I promise. If it’s even possible, that is.”

Genya considers this, and well, it’s definitely possible, they’ve got enough stock for it. The same thing as decorating a chapel for a wedding, sort of, but on a smaller scale. It’s doable.

“I do think my delivery guy can carry it, actually,” she replies, hoping Matthias won’t ask too many questions, but oh well, “We would need entry to the building, though-”

“I have the keys.”

“Oh.”

This person is well prepared. Genya loves it.

“It’s just really a matter of how many bouquets will be needed…” she’s thinking hard, an office cubicle is what she imagines the client is talking about, not too hard to fill up, realistically, “20? Will that be plenty?”

They full-on grin, “God, yes. Make it 22. I, uh, I got cash.”

And so it’s sorted, and a promise of scheduling the delivery for Wednesday, said soon-to-be-ex’s next work day, is settled. Matthias delivers the flowers a little before 8, the customer lets him in and they carry the load together, foolproof plan, Genya’s sure. “This is his number, Matthias Helvar, if you have any trouble, running late or getting into the building, whatever it may be.”

“Thank you so much for this, seriously,” they’re smiling almost from ear to ear, and honestly, she’s a little embarrassed that making this particular person as happy as they appear to be is making her feel so… warm? “This is perfect. I cannot wait to see his face. And walk away.”

It’s a funny sort of bonding experience, or feels like it, less than a transaction.

Before the client leaves, Genya gets their contact information in return, and an excited wave as the doorbell rings them out. Alina Starkov, the card says, and she/they pronouns right underneath.

She wonders if she’ll ever see them again. She doubts it. But she hopes she’s wrong.

Genya does, in fact, see a particular client again, one that for some reason stays on her mind after the delivery is done and in the five weeks till she sees them again, embarrassingly enough.

Matthias didn’t ask a lot of questions, besides the wide eyes and then looking the happiest she’s seen him since Nina kissed him for the first time. He didn’t need convincing, to put it simply.

“Whoever this Alina is, they got some guts,” he laughed to her while they were packaging all those flowers for him, “Practically covered our expenses for the month.”

That’s true, it’s lovely, that pure luck that sometimes hits them like a flood.

She’s over the moon, but of course, she doesn’t mention the part of it being because of that person’s bright smile replacing dried tear stains, and how the change made Genya feel like she’s never done anything more important than making her happy. God, Safin, Nina is rubbing off on you.

The boy lets her know the delivery went smoothly, and that Alina thanked him profusely, but that’s as much as she knows before the bell rings on a late Thursday and Nina’s voice calls from the front of house and reaches to the back where Genya is currently cutting stems.

She dries off her hands in their signature lavender apron - credit to Nina for that, as well - you’d be surprised how dirty a day’s work can get, and Genya takes care not to ruin any of her many, many floral dresses. Yes, she wears florals only to work. Once again, sue her.

She’s not sure why her friend would need assistance, she rarely asks for it, yet, there she stands.

Alina Starkov gives her a smile once again, but it’s less timid today, in no way tearful, instead calm and curious. Like they’re happy to see her, almost.

“Genya! Hi!” she says, and she’s more than a little surprised, much like their first meeting. Did she ever introduce herself? “Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing, I, uh, I told Nina how grateful I am for your help with you-know-who. Wanted to thank you in person.”

That’s just way too adorable, isn’t it?

She feels her smile growing without even controlling it, and the brunette next to her is definitely looking like she wants to ask some questions ( many questions), but she’ll have to wait, geez, Genya cannot be having a romance novel moment in her store of all places.

Realising she also has to collect herself while being in front of the client and her best friend, and not zone out because her inner hopeless romantic is firing up inside her, she decides to brush it off and try to act casual, somehow, “I’m just happy to help. I assume it went as planned, then?” “Better than planned, even. He’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life, I hope.”

Alina laughs, and Genya gets that warm flush inside her chest again. And out of the corner of her eye, Nina looks less curious and more just straight up smug. Damn her.

“I think Matthias is calling me,” is actually how Nina first speaks up, and while the client nods, like they’re away in thought, Genya sees right through her.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“You didn’t?” her friend questions, tilting her head, already moving towards the door Genya just came through, “Oh, I did. Can’t leave him hanging, might be urgent.”

“Nina-”

“Back in a jiffy!”

She’s left alone with Alina. Which is fine, you know, they were alone when they first met, right- but listen, Genya is still very much thinking about the person saying her name and the realization that she is, of course, wearing a name tag hits simultaneously with another shock: she remembered her name.

Logically, that’s not out of the ordinary at all. Gosh.

But she knows it’s not because it’s a shocking experience and more that a person who’s as beautiful as them is smiling at her and that they might just be the prettiest person she’s ever seen and that the thought of making her happy is making Genya happy, believe it or not. She doesn’t understand why this is different from any of her other experiences, but it is.

She hasn’t seen a smile like theirs before, that she knows. It makes her feel all strange and bubbly, like drinking champagne.

However, Alina is speaking up again, so Genya desperately needs to get out of her head.

“I was actually… uh, wondering if you’re maybe able to help me out again?” she starts, looking a tiny bit nervous, “If you’re not busy, that is, oh my God.”

And maybe Genya shakes her head way too quickly, but sue her, “Not at all!”

The client grins, the blush in their cheeks surely must be from the cold wind outside, and it just makes them prettier, if that’s even possible. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Now, she’s gotten this nickname before. Of course those times weren’t from Alina, and she makes sure to hide just how flustered she’s becoming, shaking her head and swinging her hand, “Stop it. I’ll try my best, heh.”

Alina clears her throat before continuing, “My best friend’s coming home, I haven’t seen him in over a year, and… Do you have, like, friendship flowers? I wanna surprise him at the airport.”

Once again, the person in front of her is just downright adorable. It’s almost frustrating.

Genya chuckles, because she doesn’t need the encyclopedia for this request, and easily makes her way over to the roses.

The client looks over the bouquet she picks up with the very same joy as their first meeting. “Yellow rose is the friendship flower, actually! Usually put together with violets, but I can change it up if you want…?”

“No no no!” they hastily reply, already taking the offer of grabbing the bundle, looking down upon it with visible dimples and eyes shimmering with excitement, “They’re perfect. Mal’s gonna love them, I know it!”

“Ah, I hope so.”

She feels almost shy with all this flattery coming her way, especially from Alina, of course, and once more she thanks her just about five hundred times before hurrying out the shop, phone chiming in the distance.

Even after they’ve left, Genya still cannot believe they came back. And remembered her. Or like, specifically sought out her help, again. Huh.

Nina immediately peeks her head around the corner when the front door has shut, her face lit up like it’s Christmas Eve, “They seemed nice. And pretty.”

“Nina,” is all she can come up with, giving her best glare, while her best friend feigns innocence.

“Yes, Genya?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

She sighs, “Just don’t.”

If Genya’s second encounter with Alina Starkov wasn’t surprising enough already, imagine her shock when she finds exactly this person entering her shop two months later. Events requiring flowers aren’t constant, which, again, is why she didn’t expect to see her ever again, but she’s not complaining, of course.

She’s working the counter when the door opening reveals Alina, their golden earrings present as always and her hair in two buns, wearing a cropped rainbow sweater and dungarees. Looking just as pretty as last time she saw them, oh God, that fluster’s coming right back.

Except she’s not alone this time. Alina’s got a taller stranger in tow, with curly hair, lip ring and pink floral shirt layered over possibly the most ridiculous graphic tee Genya’s ever laid her eyes upon.

Her recurring client waves when they spot her, heading straight to her, while their friend is almost spinning around in awe.

“Hello again,” Genya greets her, because fuck, she might just get excited over the mere sight of them. Meeting again. Is the universe trying to tell her something?

It’s an absurd thought that shouldn’t matter at all, get yourself together, she tells herself.

“Hi!” They seem even more excited than last time she saw them, and Genya wonders what the occasion could be before Alina continues, “How’ve you been?”

There’s that funny feeling again.

It’s kind of like a lump in her throat, this time, but still as bubbly and warm as before. It’s also just endearing for many different reasons, one being that she rarely gets customers twice, or thrice, and casual conversation is never as easy as theirs. She’s overthinking it, definitely.

“Busy, but good,” Genya tells her, and is about to return it, while remembering their companion, “You? And sorry, ah, I’m Genya.”

Alina’s eyes are like fireworks, almost, and she waves over her friend who’s entranced by the lilies. They’ve got a spring in their step as they make it over to them.

“This is Jesper,” they introduce them, and the tall stranger winks in greeting, “Jesper, this is Genya. I told him all about the shop, cause you’re like… the queen of flowers.”

Oh my God, why is she so sweet? It almost makes her feel embarrassed, the two of them looking at her as she imagines a blush rising just from the client’s words.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Right back at ya!” he replies, one hand in his pocket and another gesturing wildly in the air, “This is amazing, by the way. I see why Alina goes to you for stuff like this.”

Genya laughs, feeling strangely more comfortable and less nervous now. Still, she figures she should probably get to business, they wouldn’t have come here if they didn’t have a purchase in mind, right? As much as the compliments are much appreciated, Alina being the source of them is yet again making her slightly incapable of functioning normally.

She can only hope she’s improved at hiding crushes since high school, because, well… that is what this is. Genya can’t really lie to herself anymore, or pretend it’s nothing.

It’s making her slightly breathless, this person appearing and reappearing in her life.

But she does need to get over it, because as she tells herself every time, Alina is a customer and she is a salesperson. Her life isn’t a rom-com, as tragic as that may be.

“I hope your friend liked the flowers,” she said, not even needing to wait for a response as they lit up again and confirmed, dimpled smile and all, “Can I help you with anything today?”

Alina nods and hooks her arm with Jesper, “You know it. Friends of ours just got engaged, we wanna have a, uh… tiny celebration for them.”

“By that we mean surprise the shit out of them,” he follows with no hesitation, and Genya and Alina laugh, in syncron. Alright, that’s also totally fine.

“I’m sure we can figure something out for that,” she tells them. She figures flower meanings are less necessary this time around, and when she spots the bottle of champagne and heart shaped box in the client’s tote bag, she decides on a simple question, “Well, red roses are the classic. Most romantic. Do they have any favorite flowers or colors, and such?”

Jesper seems to be squinting in concentration, and Alina bites their lip. It’s quite endearing.

But the client’s eyes widen, then, and they blurt out with only a beat difference, “Pink!”

It comes out as a half-yell, actually, judging by the sweet elderly woman from down the block jumping in the other end of the shop, and Matthias nearly dropping the bunch of tulips he’s carrying onto the back of his bike wagon. The two look awfully apologetic during it all.

“Inej’s favorite color,” Alina explains with an embarrassed giggle, ducking their head, “It’s pink.”

Genya nods, “I see. How about… pink and white lilies, then?”

Jesper seems to smile in approval. “I like that. See, I would’ve just gone with pink roses.”

She gives them a sample, which they both seem pleased with, she hopes so at least, while chuckling once more at his statement, “Could work as well. But these are popular for gifts, they symbolise admiration.”

Her (favorite) client scrunches her nose with as big a grin as hers, already made up their mind, “I think she’ll love them.” And Genya, of course, feels a massive honor in helping them. Again. She can’t believe Alina’s come back two times. Gosh, she’s thinking too much.

“I’ll write these up for you, then,” she tells them while they’re already following her to the counter. At the same time, Jesper’s got furrowed brows in a thinkful sort of face, and Genya doesn’t really know if this is directed to Alina or herself, nevertheless he wonders aloud, “Not sure what my favorite flower is. You got one, Alina?”

“Duh,” the shorter person answers, without hesitation, “Sunflower. Everyone’s got one, right?

Sunflower .

In her mind, nothing else has made as much sense as this. This was the flower she first associated her client with, what their beauty could only be compared with. They shine, so much it’s near blinding Genya, at this point. Yes, she knows it’s cheesy, but it’s only in her head, after all.

Genya realises this question, however, is very much meant for her, and so she answers while typing in their total, bouquet already wrapped up to go, “I think so, yeah. I think your favorite means a lot for you, as a person.”

The taller man seems to consider this.

Then, “I like daffodils.”

“They mean rebirth,” she tells him, “Good choice.”

He looks pleased by her explanation. Alina seems to be the one deep in thought now, though, in fact, they’ve already paid and got the bunch in hand, Jesper saluting Genya in goodbye when the client asks, “What’s your favorite?”

As many times before, they never cease to surprise her, do they?

“My favorite flowers?”

She nods.

“Magnolias,” Genya needs no time to consider this, it’s easy, “Perseverance.”

Alina’s got her wide grin again, but… it changes, a little bit. It’s almost secretive. Promising. Regardless, Genya doesn’t know what to do with her thoughts about it, or the client bidding them their own farewell with, “Till next time!”

She’s quite sure this person will be the death of her, sooner or later.

And as if they could read her mind, Nina and Matthias appear at her side, the man’s arms crossed and her best friend’s arm around his waist, both looking at Genya like they could somehow dig into her brain and know all her secrets. They’re so annoying sometimes. When they’re not adorable. Mostly annoying, though.

“What are you two looking at?” she asks them, and the couple exchange a look before Nina grins.

“They asked for your favorite flower,” she says, her boyfriend nodding in agreement. Genya doesn’t know what to say.

“I know.”

Matthias cocks a brow, “You do?”

She scoffs in disbelief at whatever game they have going on, “Yes?”

Her best friend sighs and puts her free on her shoulder. She tilts her head, “Matthias asked for my favorite before our first date.”

Genya frowns. “I know.”

Nina then chuckles, because they’re both weird and wonderful at the same time, apparently, “You’re impossible.”

“I know what you’re suggesting, Nin,” she then says, because come on, it’s obvious what they’re implying. And it’s bullshit. It was just a question, you know? It must’ve been. Curiosity, that’s all. “But that is impossible.”

And because Nina’s looking at her in disbelief, she tilts her head in return, and her friend gives up on the staring contest soon enough. “Whatever you say, babe.”

As Genya expected, although much to her disappointment, it seems she won’t see anymore of her beautiful client with raven hair and smile like the sun itself, tragically.

It’s her own fault, really, getting… a bit too attached. She’s fine!

Of course Nina and Matthias are right about her crush, she already knew this. And a month after their last meeting, she admitted defeat just so they could get off her ass about it. Now, though, her best friend looks at her with a sad smile sometimes, like she can sense the disappointment that Alina’s presence is missing entirely from the shop.

They don’t have anything requiring flowers, she didn’t expect them to, all the time. And like, asking for Genya’s favorite flower didn’t mean anything, as her friends kept insisting. They were having a conversation. Customer and shop owner.

Why does she miss her? God, Genya needs to get a grip. It’s just a bit annoying, because she doesn’t feel bubbly and light anymore without Alina Starkov, and she still loves her job, of course , but maybe she does find herself a little bit jealous when the wedding season kicks in and the boutique is full of couples day in and day out, young and old, all looking at each other like no flower can compare to their love. It’s making her a little nauseous, not that she’ll ever admit it out loud.

Strangely enough, she does get a visit from a couple, a grumpy fellow and a woman with a soft smile, who never let go of each other’s hands while Genya sketched out ideas for the flower arrangement. They wanted geraniums. She somehow recalled her name: Inej Ghafa. And Kaz Brekker. Huh.

Matthias’ birthday passes, where Nina gets him cornflowers (of course), and a month later yet, a familiar face returns when Jesper stumbles in the door in excitement, eagerly purchasing a bouquet of irises for his boyfriend.

Even her mom’s in love, she tells her over the phone, and God, she’s happy for them all. Maybe Genya’s just been lonely too long.

She hadn’t even thought of dating in forever. Hadn’t thought of being single could possibly bore her, or tire her. Until, you know. Alina.

Whatever, whatever!

She’ll get over her stupid infatuation, eventually, she just needs to focus on her work, it was just a string of coindences, and once wedding season is over she’ll forget all about her favorite client who got away. Hopefully.

The universe has way, way different plans for her, though, apparently, because as she and Nina lock up for the evening, Matthias helping them carry the last load of a busy day even though this is technically his off-day (probably an excuse to be with his girlfriend even more, she suspects, but hey), Genya stops in her tracks in the parking lot.

The couple a few steps in front of her appear totally unfazed. They must know what’s going on.

And her suspicion is right, because Nina’s grinning from ear to ear when she looks back at her, “You okay, Gen?”

Genya blinks in disbelief.

Her car. It’s completely covered in… in magnolias. She can barely see any trace of her car, in fact, if it wasn’t for the lights blinking when she unlocked it.

What the hell is going on?

She’d had a rather normal day, busy but normal, and scheduled to drive back home to her mom for her birthday early tomorrow. But this is strange. Unreal. Not necessarily in a bad way, the flowers’ smell reaches her all the way over here, but just strange.

Matthias cocks his head and grabs Nina’s hand, “Aren’t you gonna look at your gift?”

“My… my gift?” she asks him, not sure what to say anymore. They definitely had a hand in this. “You already gave me gifts yesterday,” she tells them, dumbfounded.

Her best friend rolls her eyes, “It’s not from us, dummy.” “Who’s it from, then?”

“Shh! That’s a surprise.”

“Nina,” she warns, feeling the exhaustion take over her ever so quickly.

The brunette kisses her cheek and then tugs at her boyfriend’s arm towards her own car. Matthias winks. Screw them.

“Take a look!” they yell to her.

Well… okay then. Genya approaches her car slowly, only a little scared someone’ll jump out from the mountain of pink flowers and scare her half to death. Of course, this isn’t a prank, because her friends are bad at pranks, and the magnolias are so gorgeous she may be getting a little teary eyed.

These little ones reminded her to keep going, when she was at her lowest. It’s stupid, but she felt like she could overcome anything, learning the flower’s meaning and finding a blossom outside of her window back then, like a little reminder from the universe. That’s why they're her favorite. Perseverance.

Bugger, she should probably get started on digging her vehicle out from somewhere in there. Except… her eyes fall upon a little pink card, secured on the wiper. And on it, her name is written, in cursive, gold letters.

Her curiosity takes over, of course it bloody does, and she picks up the card immediately, and when she flips it over…

Is this a fever dream?

Happy early birthday, Genya Safin. Call me? Sincerest wishes (and apologies for the car, grand gesture), Alina Starkov.

This is most definitely a fever dream. Except the card is very real in her hands, and the smell of the magnolias embrace her like a warm hug, and her friends honk as they leave the lot, laughing audible even with the windows all the way up.

Alina’s phone number is written at the bottom, underlined and everything, with a tiny heart next to it.

A grand gesture. A grand romantic gesture, at that. Genya cannot for the life of her stop smiling, big and in shock and flushed and excitement flowing through her veins.

They remembered.

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