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Midoriya shifted from foot to foot, his cheeks coloring as the snow flitted down in swirls and settled on his shoulders and hair like loose dandruff. His hands were cold in the snow gloves he was wearing. Two sizes too big, Midoriya’s scarred knuckles dragged them up as they slipped down, but the chill had already long ago slipped in. For the hundredth time this week, Midoriya wished he had chosen to go skiing with his parents last year. He wouldn’t have had to borrow his father’s gloves if he had gotten a pair for the trip.
The cold was the least of Midoriya’s problems though. He hadn’t even bought the flowers yet and he already felt frozen in place outside the floral shop for a reason beyond the ice creeping up his snow boots (tight around the toes because his mom had only bought them on a whim a few years ago.) What had really kept Midoriya in place for the last fifteen minutes was the prospect of buying these flowers, carrying them home somehow in the cold, and then bringing them to school the next day for the confession he’d been contemplating for months now.
Buying these flowers meant there was no going back. Midoriya would be well and truly committed to finally speaking his emotions to Todoroki-kun. He didn’t even expect Todoroki to return his feelings, if he was honest. He had long resigned himself to the image of watching the gentle slope of Todoroki’s mouth flatten slightly as he contemplated Midoriya’s trembling confession. He knew Todoroki’s eyes would be thoughtful and that he would take the confession as straightforward as he considers most things. He knew Todoroki would politely say, “No, thank you,” and Midoriya would laugh nervously or maybe cry, but he would be fine. He’d actually imagined it so many times, he thought he could hear word for word how Todoroki would go about letting him down easy. Midoriya didn’t mind. Despite his originally unnervingly cold affect, Midoriya had long ago realized that Todoroki ran warmer with anger and compassion than he led people to believe. Todoroki would do his best to accommodate Midoriya’s childish feelings.
A shiver ran through him as he fixated on the flowers he could glimpse through the front window. Although a thin layer of frost crept around the window panes, the unmistakable flashes of jeweled tones and pastel swatches made Midoriya reconsider going home. But Midoriya hadn’t fought for a first place spot on the track team after being cut from the team a year before by running away from his problems. With a final inhale of the frosty air, Midoriya forced his arm to yank the door open and marched in.
The ring of a silver bell announced his arrival and a warm room embraced him as Midoriya stepped in. With no small amount of relief, Midoriya slipped the oversized gloves from his hands and shoved them into his pocket. Whether or not he made the right decision in entering became unimportant in the face of how warm it was compared to the snow outside.
All around him, the colors of an abundance of flowers warred for his attention. They crowded the room in bundles and in tall sprouts. A tangle of ivy vines shielded his view of the counter and Midoriya was careful to step around shallow pots lying near the floor. His heart rate slowed considerably as he remembered his plan. Ask for help. Buy a bouquet. Take it home. Give it to Todoroki-kun.
Midoriya turned a corner, already launching into an explanation so he could get through the conversation with the employee as quickly as possible.
“I, uh, would really like any recommendations you have for a bouquet to gift someone you admire deeply. I mean, that is, not a professional bouquet. Maybe just roses? Or, well, flowers for someone you have liked for a very long time. Romantically. That is.”
Abruptly, the plan was wiped from his mind and his words died in his throat when the counter came into view. More specifically, the person behind the counter made Midoriya nearly stumble over a succulent. There was no mistaking the signature divide of white and red hair or the proud set of the person’s shoulders. Midoriya’s heart plummeted at the sight.
“Midoriya?” Todoroki asked, a slight downturn of his lips standing out starkly to Midoriya. “I hadn’t realized you were interested in anyone that way.”
He knows! rang through every cell in Midoriya’s body. As a runner, he was very tempted to simply bolt out into the street and pretend Todoroki had imagined his brief entrance into the very florist’s shop that Todoroki-kun worked at .
“Ah.” Midoriya knew he looked as though he’d been highlighted with a red marker. “Yes.”
Todoroki gave him a strange look as he stepped out from behind the counter, but passed no judgement on Midoriya’s shambled state.
“You don’t have to tell me who it is,” Todoroki reassured Midoriya. “Let’s look through some possible flower arrangements.”
As they stepped through the winding maze of flowers, Todoroki confidently leading the way, Midoriya struggled to piece together his notes on Todoroki. The memory came to him in a surge. It’d been in spring that Midoriya had commented on the scent of the earth that trailed after Todoroki and Todoroki had told him about the job he’d taken in secret.
Stupid, stupid stupid!
How could he have forgotten Todoroki-kun was a florist!?
“MIdoriya.” Todoroki’s voice was low and questioning. It reminded Midoriya of stones turning over each other or the rumble of thunder that forewarned a powerful storm. In that moment, it startled Midoriya back in reality.
“You were mumbling,” Todoroki explained when Midoriya looked up from his feet at him. “Are you nervous about buying flowers?”
Midoriya grabbed onto the explanation like a drowning man pulls himself aboard driftwood.
“Yes! Well, the person they are for is very… admirable and… I… don’t know how they might react.”
“Is this person stupid?”
A jolt ran through Midoriya. “What?”
Todoroki didn’t even look up from the flowers he was combing through when he repeated his question.
“Is this person stupid?”
Midoriya blinked, took in Todoroki’s unwavering gaze, and then smiled at the silliness of it all. “No. They’re definitely not stupid.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
A bundle of flowers was dropped into Midoriya’s arms. Sometime along the way, they’d wound up back near the register without Midoriya even noticing. He looked down at the flowers bound together with twine. Pink bursts of small blossoms surrounded three white centerpiece flowers whose petals delicately folded over each other and curled slightly inwards.
“What are these?” Midoriya asked, blinking down at the arrangement Todoroki had managed to pull together so quickly.
“Gardenias and baby’s breath.”
The pairing was unexpected. Midoriya wondered why Todoroki hadn’t simply used traditional roses if they looked so similar to gardenias.
“Do they have any particular meaning?”
“The pink baby’s breath signify the desire to express a crush. The gardenias...” For once, Todoroki hesitated. Midoriya looked up expectantly at Todoroki. Perhaps these were the flowers Todoroki himself would give to someone were he to plan a confession.
“They mean you are lovely,” Todoroki finally finished. The words sent a flush to Midoriya’s face. Todoroki spoke them softly. Solemnly. As if they carried more weight than they should. After all, these flowers weren’t for Midoriya; they were meant for his imaginary crush who Todoroki now believed Midoriya would be confessing to soon.
“H-how much are they?” Midoriya managed to stutter out, already reaching for his wallet.
“They’re free.”
“W-what?!”
Todoroki walked past Midoriya and headed towards the door to the back of the store where more flowers were being grown and cared for: a clear signal that he considered this exchange over.
Over his shoulder, he called out, “Consider them a good luck wish from me. See you tomorrow, Midoriya.”
Midoriya left the store in a daze clutching the gardenias close to his chest, a flush burning his cheeks. It was not until halfway home that Midoriya felt the cold that had latched onto his fingers and pulled on his oversized mittens.
All night, the flowers sat on his desk, their ivory petals nearly glowing under the moonlight. They silently asked him the same question that had plagued his mind as he walked home.
Who were these flowers meant for?