Flowers Don’t Have Ears?
Mitsuki is convinced of two main things with her career. One, she needed to move out of Joe’s place for extreme focus and optimal precision in her writing.
Two, she needed to get away from the pink haired girl humming tunes across the street at her plants.
You see, Mitsuki was convinced the girl was crazy—delirious, absolutely out of her mind.
Her name tag read in sparkly font: Oosawa Aya. A bright pink ribbon always tied next to it, hair in a low riding pony tail with her navy blue apron. She was always wearing that mini skirt, like some uniform, and her nails were done like she was some princess.
So, this Oosawa girl was really odd.
For one, she would rotate pots of plants and flowers by this table she would leave outside her shop.
That much wasn’t a bother, her arrangements were beautiful. Mitsuki would crane her neck through her apartment window to take a look at her next art piece if anything at all.
The strange part about it was the speaker she’s convinced Aya stole from the next door club. Every afternoon without fail, bass thrummed their street.
It wasn’t so loud for her to complain (though people still did) nor did Mitsuki dislike her music taste. If anything, Mitsuki absolutely loved the stuff she played. It wouldn’t be once or twice she felt inspiration strike at the Nirvana screeching through her windows at noon.
The part of it that was so beyond her explanations and whimsical imagination was the fact that she quite literally did all of this for her plants to grow healthy and strong.
What exactly that means, Mistsuki isn’t sure! But she’d drop by for… research purposes: pupils widened and cheeks flushed as she ran her hands through a bouquet Aya offered.
Mistsuki looks through her window again at the sound of a song she knows by heart. She smiles, swatting the thrumming of her heart away.
Oosawa Aya would sell her flowers and price them on how much rock music they had listened to. Like aged wine.
Mitsuki finds this all the more interesting. All the more weird. And absolutely something she adored about this stranger.
She chuckles to herself as she watched Aya rearrange the pots that were already on the table, she can’t really hear the music from over her bedroom.
So she’s swinging her feet over her bed and grabbing her electric guitar that’s been waiting for her to pick it up since about an hour ago. She slings it over her shoulder, “Where are you going?”
Joe calls out from the kitchen as Mitsuki slides down the stairs smoothly, she jumps into her sneakers, grabbing a mask on her way out.
”Studio!”
She quips as she bolts out the door. Before he can protest, Mitsuki is out the door.
She slows her pace a little as she walks by the corner, the asphalt road under her feet eating her rather loud boots with the tendency to clack.
Mitsuki isn‘t quite sure what her problem is. She takes a breath in, hand fiddling with the strap of her guitar bag as she finally takes the next step, striding towards the familiar shop.
She feels her face flush at the sight of the girl. Oosawa, with her perfect curls and shiny lip gloss. That skirt fit just right onto her waist—Mitsuki snaps out of it. What was she doing?
She was twenty now, she needed to be more… she swallows her words: mature. So, she hears the Aerosmith bumping just softly by those small potted plans, a smile on the pink haired girl’s face. Mitsuki gulps down whatever nervousness she has down.
She takes her next steps. Eyes quickly trying to find something to look at. She decisively finds herself planted in front of the table, a now death grip on the bag strap as she stares intently at those plants.
Aya twirls around, meeting Mitsuki’s half flushed face with a soft smile. “Hi, Koga! You’re back.” She says so casually it makes Mitsuki almost drop kick herself on the spot.
”Uhm, yeah.” She mumbles. Foot tapping to the sound of the music. “Going to the studio?” Aya smiles at her.
“Yup.” She says with a pained smile. “The music choice is nice.” She says… as if she hasn’t said this each and everytime. That sparks something in Aya’s eyes, she slides the water canister over the counter as she takes a step down.
”You sure know your rock!” There are stars in her eyes, excitement pounding with a half written smile. “Haha. Well, I’m a rock… musician.” Mitsuki answers lamely (at least she’s convinced she does.)
Aya chuckles. “Do you think they’ve grown?” Mitsuki asks, half intrigued as to why she’s so convinced her flowers were better off listening to Guns N’ Roses over classical or... just regular ol’ silence.
”I know they have.” Aya has this smile on her face, eyes folded into half crescents as she lightly presses the pads of her fingers onto a flower petal. She eyes her plants with adoration, Mitsuki feels her breath hold cause this girl was absolutely stunning.
”You must be happy with your work, Oosawa.” Mitsuki chuckles to herself, half stricken. “Passion looks good on you.” She says so casually and she’s not sure why herself.
Aya looks confused, pink dazing her cheeks. “Well—“ Aya huffs, “Any living thing should know it’s a privilege to listen to such good music.” She tugs a strand of hair down and Mitsuki nods her head.
“How much for the…” She trails off, before awkwardly pointing at the pastel purple flower in front of her.
”Oh! She’s not ready yet, but I have the exact same batch of flowers all pruned up. Come inside,” Aya says, clasping her hands excitedly as she gestures for Mitsuki to come join her inside the store.
The door swings open, bell ringing as they slip into the well maintained flower shop.
Mitsuki doesn’t deny, “You can hang your guitar there.” Aya points towards a hook next to the door. Mitsuki does as she’s told, “Maybe I’ll get a guitar stand since you drop by so often.” Aya jests but it’s enough to make Mitsuki’s heart squeeze.
“If you get a guitar stand then you might as well pick up a guitar.” Mitsuki says, stretching her shoulder as Aya easily finds her way across the lanes of flowers sprawled out.
”I have two left hands.”
Mitsuki finds the irony in that considering the fact that she was standing in living breathing proof of Aya’s talent for art. The beautiful arrangements needed no introduction.
“And ten green fingers?” Mitsuki smiles as Aya hands her the bouquet. “Just two green thumbs.” She responds, banter as casual as breathing. They’re smiling at each other now and the spark that makes Mitsuki’s skin prickle as she grazes Aya’s hand goes into her mental notes.
”How much?” Mitsuki takes the flowers with such delicate touch. “What are they for?” Aya says as she goes behind the counter, pressing a few buttons before it pops open.
Mitsuki isn’t usually so… shameless persay…. but before anything in her mind can force the receptors of her mouth to say stop, her words are out past her lips and—“For you.”
Aya pauses for a moment, Mitsuki’s eyes widening as she realized what she had just said. She runs an embarrassed hand through her hair. Turning her head away, cursing herself and Aya looks at her with incredulous intensity.
Her ears are bright red and Aya is dizzy, “Uhm.” She squeaks. “Then… it’s free.” She responds—she actually responds and Mitsuki wants to stab herself.
She turns back to meet Aya’s gaze as she slowly closes the cash register. “You should take them home.” Mitsuki emphasizes as she digs into her pockets and places down however much yen onto the counter top (she isn’t sure how much she places down in fact.)
Aya seems so enamored that it doesn’t even matter. Mitsuki can’t help the way she smiles at how expressive Aya’s eyes are.
“Thanks…” Aya mutters, hands taking the bouquet that Mitsuki extends over to her.
“Well, you are the one who made it. It’s good to share art.” Mitsuki smiles, she wants to rip her skin off right about now.
Aya nods, staring down at her creation that Mitsuki so boldly called art.
And there’s a moment as Mitsuki finds herself leaning onto the counter and Aya snaps her head back up at just the right moment, and a soft smile breaks out onto her lips—-
The door rings open followed by a loud yawn. “Hey, Aya—“ He pauses as he stares at the image in front of him.
A guy.. Lean and tall, in jeans with star shaped stitches all over them, hands shoved into his pockets, half messy hair, with a striped sweater under his baggy grey t-shirt. His hair in a half bun with headphones hanging off her neck.
Nartia’s jaw slacks. This guy was freaking cool.
He’s leaning onto the counter, forward as Aya is holding a bouquet leaning halfway to meet his eyes—Wait, Narita’s eyes widen.
That was a flipping chick?
”Oh, uh,” Narita pauses as Aya’s expression forms into one of pure annoyance.
”I guess that’s my cue to leave.” Mitsuki takes a step back, her chains clinking against each other as she clears her throat. “Oh—“ Aya is just as surprised.
”See you around.” Mitsuki has a forced smile on her lips. Before Aya gets to say anything she’s grabbing her guitar and slipping out the door.
”Did not know you had a girlfriend.”
”I’m going to strangle you!” Aya places down the bouquet as she steps over to try to strangle Narita.
”Wait, wait!” He tries to run for his life.
Mitsuki bites her bottom lip as she watches through the slightly opaque window, turning her gaze around.
Something pangs in her chest but she ignores it.
Of course, Aya had a boyfriend. That made sense.
She looks up at the now cloudy sky, with a sigh she treads up the road. She puts her headphones on, playing the same Aerosmith song blasting out the flower shop.