Nakahara Chuuya always loved flowers. The way their colors shifted in sunlight, the quiet rustle of petals, he found it calming. Helping his older sister Kouyou manage her small shop wasn't exactly always fun, but it was peaceful. And it gave him something to do with his hands besides fidget.

Today, like every other week, a strange man appeared. Dark-haired, tall, and leaning casually against the counter, Osamu Dazai. He never bought anything, not once. Yet somehow, he always seemed to know where Chuuya would be, what flowers he'd be arranging, even which ones he handled most delicately.

Chuuya felt his cheeks heat as he stacked bouquets, pretending not to notice the way Dazai's eyes followed him. "You really don’t need anything?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Dazai’s lips curved into that infuriatingly easy smile. "Not today," he said, voice soft, almost teasing. "You’re the prettiest flower I need though."

Chuuya almost dropped the lilies.