Work Text:
Kiibo wasn’t a normal high school student… much to his disappointment. Normal high school students ate lunch in the cafeteria, or outside in their own clique of friends. Normal high school students would sweat, pant and heave in physical education classes. Normal high school students take over a second to compute mathematical equations. Normal high school students cried over bad grades or bled when they fell. Normal high school students were normal.
Apparently, the amount of notes he took on this sort of behaviour made Kiibo less of a normal high school student. As if that made any sense at all. Logically it should follow that researching a topic makes one more knowledgeable and therefore ‘become’ that topic. Like a veterinarian, they study animal biology and medical practices and get to be called a ‘vet’. So why does the same not apply to being a normal high school student?
It was perplexing. It was as though no matter how hard Kiibo tried, any of his attempts to be a normal high school student ended in failure.
Well- officially, his name was K1-B0, by for simplicity, he had people call him Kiibo. It made him feel… more. He was the Ultimate Robot. Despite all the rising AI technology and mechanical advancements, Kiibo couldn’t grasp quite what it meant to be human. He could formulate his own sentences, and base his beliefs on aspects of the world and his personal database of experience. He could communicate with others and establish bonds with his peers. He could disagree with others and install his own morals. But he didn’t quite know if he could feel.
Of course, he could feel rudimentarily; grass was spikey-soft and water was wet (or was it?). But emotion was a concept he still pondered on. Kiibo got hot and violent protocols would activate when his classmates insistently pointed out his robotic nature. Kiibo got sulky and deflated when these remarks overloaded his systems. But Kiibo got light and bouncy when people were in awe of his programming. Folk psychology would label these feelings as anger, sadness or joy but without adrenaline or dopamine, could he really…?
Recently, a classmate everyone (including himself) found tolerable on good days (and despisable on most others) had been causing conflicting feelings in Kiibo.
Some days, the other made him frustrated beyond belief. Kiibo would want to shake him just to convey a scrap of his exasperation to the other's organic mind. On other days, he would feel tired and sluggish beyond belief, wanting nothing more than to power off and turn off his sensors. But strangest of all some days he found himself trying to get closer to the other. It was dangerous, like water and electricity, surely it’d end in pain.
This person, the source of the majority of Kiibo’s struggles was none other than Ouma Kokichi. A larger-than-life kid who spat down on everyone who had the misfortune of knowing him. He was rude, snobbish, bratty, unsympathetic, unpredictable and an overall nuisance. He paraded around school in a uniform looking like he had just broken out of some sort of delinquent clown prison. Adorning a strange checkered scarf and curly purple hair that only served to strike dread in Kiibo whenever he caught a glance.
Regardless, it was past dawn. The sun had ventured past the horizon and its orange rays peered through the windows, lighting the halls of the academy. Homeroom started in around half an hour or so, Kiibo usually liked to arrive ‘ridiculously’ early to ensure he could greet all of his classmates and have his supplies sorted for the day. Ouma usually berated him for this practice, telling Kiibo he was just, “Asking for robophobic bullying” (after Ouma said that, he then backed up his own claim by calling Kiibo the ‘not-human equivalent of the calendar app’ (whatever that meant)).
Regardless of the verbal abuse Kiibo encountered daily, he couldn’t deny he found comfort in having Ouma as a constant in his life. It was routine. Maybe it was his normal. But upon opening his locker (with a ridiculously long code because Kiibo maybe liked to boast about his memory banks), something was peculiar. Inside the locker, atop his neatly stacked folders and books, was a strangely shaped flower head.
It wasn’t a dainty, delicate bud. Nor was it a fierce, passionate rose. It was an odd cone-shaped plant, with a wonky white wall with a fuzzy yellow stem in the middle. The stalk of the flower was cut short, only being a little nub compared to what Kiibo assumed to be a long, stretching stem. However, around that stubby nub was a purple ribbon. The ends were haphazardly cut but it almost looked artistic. Somehow, the mystery flower felt extremely authentic.
“Ooooh~, Does Kii-boy have a seeeecret admirer!” a chirpy voice came from behind. Kiibo jumped and whipped his head around. He shuffled to block Ouma’s view of the locker. In response, Ouma shoved Kiibo aside and stuck his entire head in the locker. “Oh! A Calla lily! Someone must reeeeaaally like you to give you that ugly flower!”
Kiibo frowned, pulling Ouma’s head from his locker. “You know what flower it is? Are you an expert in botany Ouma-kun?” Despite Kiibo’s annoyance at the other’s presence, the fact Ouma knew what flower lay in his locker was helpful in this circumstance.
Ouma wrinkled his nose. “Geez, was botany the word of the day, dictionary?”
Kiibo huffed and jabbed a finger at Ouma, “Do not mock me–! Botany is merely the title of someone who studies the flora of our world–!” Kiibo snorted and proudly puffed his chest, “And I’ll have you know, the word of the day is ‘sense’, which is a faculty by which the–”
A hand shot up and covered Kiibo’s mouth. Ouma gave him a half-hearted glare, “Ohmygod, I’m getting the sense that sarcasm isn’t your thing…”
Kiibo shoved Ouma aside (again), “Hey! I know the complete history of sarcasm! It is the use of irony to mock others!” It took a moment for Kiibo to process his own words before, “Wh- Hey! Does that mean you have been using sarcasm as an attempt to mock me?!”
“Talk about a delayed reaction…” Ouma replied tiredly. But rather than giving Kiibo the opportunity to respond Ouma spoke, “But, but, but–! Kii-baby is finally entering the realm of the teenage boy! Congrats Pinocchio, you’re a real boy!”
Kiibo rolled his eyes. He reached inside his locker and gently grabbed the flower to examine in his hand. “Is that an attempt to insult me? If anyone were Pinocchio, it would be you.”
A haughty laugh echoed down the hall followed by heavy steps. “Bahahaha–! Pinocchio’s like some crazy fuckin’ love child between the two of you–!” Iruma stormed up to them, leaning on the lockers and trying to discreetly pry her eyes on the flower in Kiibo’s palm.
Ouma groaned beside him. “Yuck, you’ve summoned a succubus now. Some nasty, garbage-breathed whore has appeared…” Iruma whimpered at Ouma’s greeting. Using her silence as an opening, Ouma continued, “Anyways, as I was saying before the failed sex toy showed up, that’s a Calla lily you’ve got in your grabbers!” his face twisted into disgust, “In lame, lousy, flower language, it means someone finds you… ugh… beautiful on the inside and out.” Ouma stuck his tongue out, “Yuck, gross. All you do is walk around like some deformed disco ball… some sentient toaster given life by some cruel God…”
Kiibo felt heat rush to his face (well, not really). Dumbfounded, he looked down at the strangely shaped flower, twirling it around in his hands. A small smile slid onto his face. The flower in his hand suddenly felt like the most precious thing in the world. The white outer-petal looked like the rarest of silk and the yellow stem seemed more priceless than gold.
A loud snort erupted from beside him. Kiibo may have forgotten there was someone else in the hall with them. “Bwahaha, what kinda sucky piece of shit gives someone a shitty flower like we’re in an equally shitty rom-com.” Iruma snickered, “If ya’ ask me, I think that prissy flower’s real meaning is that someone wants to bone the fuck outta you–!”
Somehow, Kiibo’s face got more ‘hot’ at that comment. He broke eye contact with the flower and glared at Iruma, “Wh- Why would you say that–?!” he scoffed, “Not that I am more inclined to believe Ouma-kun, but I must admit what he said does sound more sensible than your suggestion.”
In response, Iruma rolled her eyes and a cocky smile that never meant anything good widened on her face. “Oh my god–! Just fuck each other already!” Both Ouma and Kiibo froze, but Ouma recovered quickly. Iruma spoke before either of them could reply, “Tch– Do you know how much of a deep fucking pain in my ass it is watching you two twink-scrawny-ass pathetic pieces of shit dance arou–”
Ouma shoved his hand on Iruma’s lips before she could continue her tirade. He cruelly smiled up at her with malice in his eyes, “I think the foul-mouthed pig-shit is just deflecting her own measly little feelings on us Kii-boy.” He pulled his hand off Iruma’s mouth as he saw the fire in her eyes die down to a fluttering mess. Ouma frowned and wiped his hand on his pants. “Besides! We all know there is no room for a lover in the extremely busy life of an Ultimate Supreme Leader! I could never sink so low to have– bleh– feelings for someone, because then my rival nations would take advantage of this weakness! And–” he gasped, “Th- then they would kidnap my love–!” he started sobbing. “And I tots don’t wanna deal with a kidnapping–! Think of the paperwork Kii-boy!”
Kiibo narrowed his eyes, “I didn’t think an ‘evil organisation’ would take the time to do paperwork if they’re so against the law…”
Ouma sighed. “Boo, of course, you don’t get it, it’s just business.” Ouma rocked back on his heels before abruptly spinning around, “Welp!” he tapped an invisible watch on his wrist, “Look at the time! Class is starting soon! I can’t ruin my tippity-top attendance record! See-ya Kii-boy!”
And with that, Ouma ran off in the opposite direction of their homeroom.
Kiibo sighed. He briefly glanced over at Iruma, who had gotten over her fit and was now searching within her own locker (which looked like a mess, but it was secretly very organised). Seeing that Iruma was paying Kiibo no mind for the time being, he once again stared at the flower in his hand.
Beautiful on the inside and out? That was what Ouma said the flower meant. The sentiment made Kiibo want to cry, yet his insides felt all warm and fuzzy. It was probably the most thoughtful gift Kiibo had ever received. A small smile wormed its way onto his face. Someone cared about him, in a seemingly intimate manner.
Kiibo had never seen himself as beautiful, nor had anyone ever called him such a word. He had been called many things, like “Marvellous!”, “A masterpiece!”, and “Extraordinary!”, which to any normal person would be the nicest compliment of their life. Kiibo was sure many people got called ‘beautiful’ on a daily basis, to the point where the flattering remark was just another word. But to Kiibo, it meant the world to him. Every time he saw his passing reflection, he would watch as his eyes reflected light in the windows, while everybody else's didn’t cause such an effect. He wasn’t normal. He wasn’t pretty… or beautiful. People always marvelled at him for different reasons, but never for Kiibo. But this mystery person called Kiibo was beautiful on the inside and the outside. And that meant more than he could ever say.
But once he finished appreciating the flower he came to an unfortunate conclusion. He had no idea who the flower was from. In a mild panic, he peered inside his locker and somewhat frantically turned over his books in search of some sort of note, or signage that indicated who cared this much for Kiibo
“You’re not gonna find a note, I bet the cuck pussy-ed out on signing that plant.” Kiibo jumped and turned around to face Iruma.
His eyes lit up, “Iruma-san! Do you know the sender of this Calla Lily?” he couldn’t deny that his circuits leapt with hope. If Iruma knew who sent the flower to Kiibo, then he could go thank them and see who thought of him in such a kind way.
Iruma just scoffed and grumbled something under her breath, “Urgh, that virgin would saw my beautiful tits off if I said something, urgh he even put his… never mind…” She let an exaggerated sigh, “God, it’s hard being the smartest in this group of numbskulled idiots, heh, I know, brains and beauty, it ‘ain’t fair! Bwahahaha!” Upon seeing Kiibo’s still expectant look, she sighed again, “‘kay here’s an idea from the gorgeous girl genius herself, so you can’t fucking ignore it! Look, your sad-loser ass thinks that fugly flower is… urgh… cute or some sappy shit like that right? So how about you give a dinky flower to your own little boycrush.”
It wasn’t a bad idea but… “That would be optimal, as I would like to return the favour… however I am unsure of what you mean by… boycrush...” Kiibo frowned, looking down at the flower, “And I fail to see how gifting a flower to my own boycrush would be returning the favour, as this boycrush person and the flower-gifters are likely not the same person.”
Iruma snickered. “Heh, you’d be surprised… I mean give it to that someone you like a lot, to say ‘I wanna fucking bone the soul out of you!’” She laughed at her own joke. Kiibo just stared at her, so she groaned, “Oh get another lousy plant with that dumbass flower language that says some overdone bullshit like ‘I like you too!’ or some basic shit like that…”
An idea sparked in Kiibo’s head, “Ah! Iruma-san! What is your favourite flower?”
Iruma choked on air. “The fu–?” then she started laughing, “Hahaha, sorry Kiibs, I like tits, boobs, breasts, milkers, ass, tatas, balloons-”
Kiibo waved his hands around, “No, no! A- ah, not like that!” He stared at the ground defeatedly, “You said I should give a flower to someone I like, and you are my friend, so it logically follows that I like you! Is that not correct?” It didn’t make any sense to Kiibo, he liked Iruma, and she was a good friend to him. She made Kiibo feel, good about himself (sometimes), was that not something to ‘like’?
The aforementioned ‘she’ groaned again. “God, do I need to update your audio processors or some shit? It doesn’t fucking matter what you’re into, whether you’re into fucking kinky shit like… heh… wire-play or lame, shitty, boring, romantic crap… what I mean is that you should give a dorky flower to someone you love.” She hummed to herself as if impressed by her own speech. But before Kiibo could respond, she added, “And that doesn’t mean stupid platonic-kumbaya ‘I love my friends’ bullshit, I mean that person you wanna be with for the rest of your life, like that person who you never want to leave you…” she trailed off at the end, with noticeably fewer curses in her sentences.
Kiibo smiled, “I see… thank you Iruma-san, that was a very informative and… kind spiel.”
As if caught off guard by her own words, Iruma just scoffed. “Yeah, fuck you. As if anyone wouldn’t want me around, I’m a goddamn delight. I’m just too booked up on the fuck list that you don’t even stand a chance with me Kiibs! Bwahaha!”
After his conversation with Iruma, Kiibo went by his day as he usually would. In homeroom, Ouma was late, as usual. In fact, using his database, he was creating a mean on Ouma’s times. So far, Ouma (on average), came five minutes and fifty-four seconds late. Surprisingly, Ouma had a new entrance every time he burst through the door, proudly declaring that he had arrived.
Eventually, the end of the day came and Kiibo found himself alone in his dorm. It was furnished with the same details as every other dorm, meaning there was a bed that was fairly useless to Kiibo. He usually sat in the corner of the room near his charging port as he had no particular use for the comfort of bedding or chairs (his body was capable of standing upright while charging). Yet he wouldn’t change his dorm. It made Kiibo feel more normal. Besides, the various furniture such as the desk (granted, that he did use), bed and decorative chairs made his dorm comfortable for others.
A flower… That was what Iruma suggested; that he should gift a flower to a subject of his own affection. Yet Kiibo had no idea who to give it to. He had plenty of friends and enjoyed the company of all of his classmates despite their robophobia. Although there was one particular classmate whom he found himself specifically enamoured, he felt frustrated by just thinking of him.
Ouma Kokichi.
But he couldn’t quite place the feeling. Kiibo wanted Ouma to halt his cruel remarks, yet for some reason if Ouma stopped talking to him… that was a thought that made Kiibo upset. As much as the others’ presence and overall existence were to be a bother, Kiibo didn’t want to see him go. If anything, he felt strangely secure with Ouma. This was bizarre considering Kiibo couldn’t decipher the others’ lies, never knowing whether to take the other's words at face value or ignore them entirely. Then again, there was always a voice in the back of Kiibo’s mind telling him to always consider Ouma’s words.
Perhaps even a white lie could have some truth within. It was like the yin-yang symbol; good in evil, evil in good…
And so, Kiibo grabbed his laptop, typing in his ‘ridiculously long password’ (”Seriously Kiibs! You’re more paranoid than this fucking shota!”), and opened his browser. Amongst the other tabs, neatly organised, he opened a new tab. Kiibo spent the better half of the night researching flowers and their various meanings.
Morning came. Kiibo got up and left his dorm. Homeroom started in around half an hour or so, Kiibo usually liked to arrive ‘ridiculously’ early to ensure he could greet all of his classmates and have his supplies sorted for the day. Ouma usually berated him for this practice. Same old, same old.
Ouma’s verbal retorts were vicious yesterday (when were they not?), but Kiibo couldn’t deny a part of him enjoyed the attention. He feared that without Ouma’s constant jabs and insults, Kiibo would just become a buzz in the background, no better than the whirring of an old heater. It was his routine, his normal. But upon opening his locker, something again, was different. Inside the locker, atop his neatly stacked books and folders, was another flower.
It was another white flower. However, this one was more ‘flower-like’ than the Calla Lily he had gotten the day prior. The petals looked soft, flourishing around the yellow centre, twisting and curling to form a beautiful shape. Kiibo carefully grasped the flower and gently held it in his hand.
“Seriously? Another fucking flower already?” Kiibo jumped and whirled around to face Iruma. His friend narrowed her eyes and pulled a face at the flower in Kiibo’s palm. “Tch– at least it’s not ugly like that shitty one you got yesterday.” she bent over to stare at the flower, “Mm, what’s the sappy message that comes (heh) with this one? Oooo, I’m a pussy and this fwower mweans I think you’re weally fuckin’ hot as shit!”
“No that’s wrong!”
Kiibo jumped once again and Iruma let out a startled yelp. Ouma cocked his head and smiled. “Nishishi, of course, Ms Piggy-chan has the brain power of a pebble, that little ol’ flower in your rocket-launcher-hand is clearly a gardenia!”
Iruma snorted. “Uh huh, and I wonder why you know that.”
Ouma narrowed his eyes at her for a brief moment before chuckling, “Duh, I’m a supreme leader. Y’know some people choose to leave threats in the form of flowers! So naturally I have to know if someone’s threatening to blow up my super-secret H.Q!”
Kiibo sighed and rolled his eyes, “Because other ‘evil organisations’ would use flowers to send threatening messages.” Ouma sighed and Kiibo huffed, “Sometimes I wonder why you lie so much, I’m sure there is an explanation for why you know so much about the language of flowers.”
The other just laughed and turned his head, “Eh? Kii-boy saw through my lie?” Ouma gasped dramatically and his hands flew to his face in faux surprise. “Hey! When did you get a lie detector installed?! That’s cheating! That’s no fair! Waahhh–! Kii-boy doesn’t want to play with me anymore!”
Iruma snorted loudly at that and started cackling. She hit her fist on the locker to control her laughter. “God, you two make me wanna strangle myself.” Iruma didn’t elaborate after that and just continued to laugh. Ouma just grumbled incoherently and Kiibo instead looked back down to the gardenia in his palm.
Kiibo smiled and slowly looked up at Ouma, who was pouting and insistently jabbing Iruma with his fingers. Kiibo turned his head thoughtfully, “Hey Ouma-kun, do you know the meaning behind this gardenia like yesterday? If so I would love to hear it.”
Ouma paused (with his finger still half-poked into Iruma’s stomach). He smirked and looked up at Kiibo, raising a finger to his chin. “Oh? You’d love to hear from me? I’m flattered Kii-boy, but you should save those words for your secret admirer!” Iruma looked like she wanted to say something, but instead grumbled and flung open her locker. Ouma smiled, “That gorgeous beauty right there, the gardenia, it secretly means somebody has a whittle crush on you!” Ouma tapped Kiibo on the nose, leaning in close before swiftly pulling back, “But! That person, A.K.A, you Kii-boy aren’t aware of it! Waaah!! So cruel!! Kii-baby is unintentionally friend-zoning someone! That’s so mean!”
Kiibo blinked and stared back down at the flower. Someone had… ‘a crush’ on him? Someone had… feelings for Kiibo but he didn’t know?
That was peculiar. Of all instances, Kiibo couldn’t recall anyone showing any particular interest in him. Well, he did have his friends. But Iruma was mainly interested in him as a robot, and gave her speech yesterday, Kiibo can guarantee that Iruma isn’t the mystery-gifter. He hung out with his other classmates from time to time, Saihara was fairly sympathetic towards him, Akamatsu was always nice and Yumeno had his strange sort of kindness towards him… but there was no way any of his other classmates would gift him a flower. Right?
Then again, Ouma said the flower symbolised that Kiibo was unaware of the affection being sent his way. That Kiibo was blind to someone’s feelings for him. So perhaps Kiibo had to update his databases on his classmates and re-evaluate their relationship to find a clue.
But… there was also Ouma.
Somehow, he can’t find himself refuting or even hating the idea that Ouma would give him flowers. Certainly, his behaviour as of late had been odd. Ouma willingly gave out the information about the flowers, without any prompting or begging on Kiibo’s behalf, it was suspicious. Then again, Ouma was a very clingy person. Maybe he was worried that Kiibo's admirer would take Kiibo’s attention from him. Because Ouma practically thrived on attention. Any type of attention, good or bad. Kiibo didn’t want to imagine the consequences if Ouma tried to get more negative attention than he already had. And some part of Kiibo felt deeply sad at the thought of Ouma feeling unnoticed.
“Hey! NASA space-shuttle?? Kii-boy to ground control! Hello?” Kiibo blinked and saw Ouma’s hand waving frantically in front of his eyes.
Kiibo smiled sheepishly, “Ah, sorry Ouma-kun, I got lost in thought…”
Maybe Kiibo should take Iruma’s advice. He pondered on it last night, as he searched the web for various flowers and their meanings. He found plenty of interesting choices, many of which he hoped to use one day, but in his search for plants with silly meanings, he found a certain flower that seemed to be the perfect opening move.
And maybe he picked that flower with a certain someone in mind.
The rest of the day went as normal sans Kiibo figuring out where the local florist is. So once the school day came to an end, rather than heading straight to his dorm as he normally did, he left the school premises and wandered into town. Thankfully, just a couple of streets from the academy was a small flower shop.
Walking into the shop, his senses were overwhelmed with the sweet scent of various flowers. Plentiful arrays of flowers lined the walls and stalls, some of which Kiibo even recognised from his flower research the night prior. Bringing up an image on his phone, he eyed the plants in search of a certain pink, ruffly flower. A pink carnation.
I will never forget you.
It seemed a fitting flower for Kiibo to give Ouma.
The next day rolled around and there was a sort of nervous buzzing in his head. His thoughts centred around Ouma. Would Ouma appreciate the flower? Kiibo felt bad for betraying the person who was giving him flowers, but maybe a small part of him hoped that the flowers were from Ouma regardless. And so he opened his locker, and there, like the past few days, was another flower. But instead of the small, dainty gardenia before, or the slightly larger calla lily, there was a massive sunflower head atop his books, with a couple of seeds spilled into the unknown crevices of his locker.
Kiibo’s jaw dropped. He awkwardly slivered his hands under the massive plant and held the head delicately with both his hands, like a dinner plate. Kiibo saw the sunflower during his research on flowers, and from what he found it symbolised long-lasting happiness. The thought made his chest feel warm.
From behind Kiibo, there was a gasp. Kiibo turned and saw Ouma tentatively reaching inside his own locker and grabbing the carnation Kiibo put there. As if sensing Kiibo’s eyes on him, Ouma whirled around and stared at Kiibo with an almost accusatory look in his eyes. Then he chuckled and a wiry smirk slid onto his face. “Well, well, well Kii-boy. It seems you’re not the only one with a secret admirer.”
Secret…? Kiibo’s ‘heart’ jumped and he stared at the carnation in Ouma’s hands and then inside the other’s locker. Ah. He forgot to sign the flower. Ouma probably had no idea who it was from. And as much as Kiibo wanted to amend that mistake… verbalising his affections seemed… unsavoury. The thought made his insides want to combust.
But before Kiibo could get a word in, Ouma smiled and eyed the sunflower still in Kiibo’s hands. “Ooh! A sunflower? Looks like you’re making someone really happy!” he chuckled, a hint of frustration in his eyes, “Maaaan, and to get that thing neatly in your locker! Wow! Quite the dedication someone has!”
Kiibo’s brain short-circuited. As he stared at Ouma as the other rambled about sunflowers (and eventually changed the topic to something completely different), for once in Kiibo’s life, he thought he finally saw through one of Ouma’s lies. Why would Ouma realistically know the language of flowers? Normally, Kiibo would assume, if asked, it was one of those topics Ouma would scoff and call boring. He can just imagine Ouma ridiculing one of his classmates for knowing such a ‘sappy’ thing. This led Kiibo to the conclusion that Ouma must have a motive for knowing these things.
Secondly, Ouma is Ouma. By that, he means Ouma is quite self-centred. So for Ouma to be so interested in the flowers in Kiibo’s locker, even going so far as to help him with the names and intent of the gifts… was odd. Typically, Ouma would only use such a fact to bully Kiibo more. He was honestly surprised the other didn’t even make some sort of ‘organic’ (and the fact Kiibo isn’t organic) jokes.
Then there was Ouma’s whole attitude. Kiibo wasn’t familiar with someone being so infatuated with him. But Ouma seemed quite invested in Kiibo’s reactions to the flowers, which was strange. And then there was that frustration Kiibo saw in Ouma’s eyes. The way he described the sunflower sounded personable. While Ouma did compliment the ‘mystery’ person who put it in his locker, it wasn’t foreign for Ouma to flatter himself.
Kiibo smiled. “So, Ouma-kun, what flower did you receive?” he tried to play it ‘cool’, trying to sound innocent in asking. He prayed that the question didn’t come across as out of place. Ouma got a flower too, it’s natural for a friend to ask about another friend’s secret-locker-flower-that-Kiibo-definitely-didn’t-put-there-and-knew-about.
The other cocked his head. A faint flash of surprise brushed past his expression before he stared at Kiibo with a bemused, but knowing look. “Hm… well as you know, I’m an expert in botany, flora, fauna, psychology, anthropology…” he trailed off hummed, “So! According to my very extensive research and the gift of being omnipotent thanks to Yonaga-chan’s God… and if I link it back to those weeks I spent getting no sleep and only living off of caffeine like some depressed coffee addict… I have no idea!” he chirped, grinning.
Kiibo deadpanned. “...you have no idea?”
“Nope! What even is this anyway? A toilet brush? Some car nation’s symbol for their stupid car sale?”
…’car nation, the other definitely knew what the flower was. He just wanted Kiibo to say it for some reason. And so, Kiibo sighed. “It’s a pink carnation. According to sources online, it means ‘I will never forget you’.”
Kiibo could have sworn he saw a dust of pink flush to Ouma’s face, but it could have been the lighting. For a second, Ouma just blinked, as though his brain shut down. He looked almost lost, like he glitched out… before, “Woah Kii-boy! You didn’t know anything about flowers the other day! Why do you know so much anywho huh?”
“I spent a night researching flowers! Now you’re not the only one knowledgeable about this language.” Kiibo added in the last part to hopefully disguise his true intent of researching flowers, and the fact it was fun to try and one-up Ouma.
Ouma just raised an eyebrow, “Uh huuh… and what did you need to research flowers for, Kii-boy?”
Kiibo froze, a shaky smile on his face, “O- oh… uh– I was just… interested…” An idea clicked in his head for a lie (because lying to Ouma was a good idea). “...i- in flowers! Yes!”
The other deadpanned and frowned, “Yes. Being interested in flowers certainly does warrant researching them, you really are a state-of-the-art robot.”
Kiibo huffed and his grip on the sunflower tightened, “I wasn’t finished!” Ouma just rolled his eyes. “I wanted to be able to know what the flowers being put in my locker were! I didn’t want to always… uh, rely on your help, so I took matters into my own hands!”
Ouma snorted. He twirled his own flower around in his hands, shimmying it between both his hands, making the plant twirl at a fast velocity. “Whatever you say Kii-boy~”
As Kiibo stared at Ouma, who was now back at his own locker, he smiled. Ouma had slipped the carnation into his hair, tucked behind his ear. Kiibo tried to put the sunflower on his head to match the other, only for the massive flower to fall, spilling all its seeds on the floor. He was glad the other appreciated his gift. And the flower did look quite nice in Ouma’s hair. He was even slightly envious of how Ouma could wear his flower, while he was now half a mess on the floor.
As far as Kiibo’s knowledge of his own ‘secret admirer’, he chose to believe it was Ouma. The thought made him feel warm. And the feeling of giddy-glee Kiibo felt seeing Ouma skip around campus all day with his carnation still in his hair, made Kiibo feel special. Some part of him, one he had never noticed before, wanted to keep pursuing that feeling. And that meant he had to pursue Ouma too. But he didn’t mind that.
Seeing the ruffle pink flower bounce around on Ouma’s head, the pink contrasting nicely with the other’s purple mop of hair made Kiibo excited. He wondered what flower he would receive tomorrow. He wondered what flower would look best on Ouma. Well, he still has plenty of more plants to try. From blue to red salvias, to chrysanthemums. Maybe even a peony. Maybe a violet to match Ouma’s hair.
And one day, it might be a red rose saying “I love you.”