Chapter Text
Nico pushed open the glass door of the plant store, the bell above it giving a sharp little ring. That sound haunted his mind. The memories were fine before, it being a cute and memorable little sound from the store. Now, it was as if the bell of death tolled. His head filled with the smile of a boy when he heard that chime. It was complete torture to think of pretty boys. The smell of soil and greenery hit him right away. He paused at the entrance, heart already beating too fast.
He already was ducked behind the rows of tall leafy plants near the wall. He peeked through the leaves toward the front counter, holding his breath. He almost thanked every single god that had ever existed when his eyes fell upon Naomi. She could've been an angel, not from her beauty, but at the fact she had saved Nico from such torture. Straightening his jacket, Nico stepped out from his hiding spot, trying to act casual. He walked up to the cash register, and visibly appeared nervous. It caused a soft, patient, yet slightly pitiful smile from the woman.
"Hey, darlin'. Y'need something?" Her southern accent was far more prominent today than Nico had ever expected. They had brief conversations, but it was only a little noticable then. He began to pick at the skin around his fingernails. Nico was a nail-biter, unfortunately. He had a lot of habits he developed out of fidgeting and fear, and when he was nervous a lot-- it was bad, because he'd bite his nails, then have nothing to bite when he got nervous again, and end up picking or biting hangnails and dry skin off of the tips of his fingers and bleed a whole lot. He thankfully wasn't bleeding, but bit his nails to oblivion from absolute stress from Pretty Boy.
"Um-- Hello. I am a beekeeper. My bees need flowers-- pollen. I am not a gardener. I don't know what I should do for them," He explained. His voice was smooth, yet a slight Italian accent remained in his words. That also happened when he was nervous. He lost control of himself, not being able to prevent him from making his nails bleed or making his words sound wrong. She suddenly beamed, as if this was her complete expertise. Okay, it was. That was stupid. Her bright smile caught him off guard and his eyes widened a little.
"Oh! Well, you don't say! Come round here, darlin'!" Naomi walked behind the counter, gesturing her hand for Nico to follow. She led him to a section of her store and began to point and talk. "You'll want perennials-- that means they'll last year round. It's less care, and your bees'll have lots to feed off of for the whole year." She explained. "These are good. Lavender, Bee Balm, Asters... Any perennial is good! You can get some herbs, too. They attract bees." He found himself becoming engrossed in her teaching. He was one to zone out during lessons, to fade in and fade out of what they were saying. Now, something about her made it so interesting. He nodded in acknowledgment, and began to glance at the plants she mentioned, fiddling with the leaves as Will did. He didn't know exactly what that would do, but it made him feel a little smart.
He ended up buying a lot. He bought some perennials (was that the right word?), herbs, and an extra house plant he only wanted because it looked nice. Naomi was kind. She talked to him about lots of things, and he flowed into the conversation as easily as breathing was. He had a tendency to feel good after forming a full conversation, and now had some warmth in him. He thanked her for all her work, then Nico went to leave the store with a cart of his new plants. He was trying to convince himself it was a successful trip. No run-ins, no awkward stammering, no giving himself away. He tugged his jacket up a little higher. Then he froze. In the big front window, framed by rows of hanging ferns, stood him. The boy Nico had been avoiding. His crush. Their eyes met before Nico could look away. The guy smiled. Then lifted his hand in an easy wave. He had the absolute audacity to wave. Nico’s stomach twisted into knots. Heat shot up his neck, all the way to his ears. Why is he waving at me? What the fuck. Is this real? Oh my gods- what do i do? Do I wave back? Why does he have to look so-- He clenched his jaw, furious at himself. This is stupid. I don’t like him. I can’t like him. But at the same time, every nerve in his body screamed at him to wave back, to walk inside, to say something. Instead, Nico choked on air, made a noise that wasn’t even a word, and spun on his heel. He burst through the door, running so fast he could've tripped, and refused to think. His sneakers slapped the pavement as he bolted down the street, shame and flustered panic burning through him. He saw me. He saw me. He waved. Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh. My. Gods.
He truly felt like vomiting everything up. He was lucky the parking lot was a little further from the store, it being connected to a few other stores, like a strip. He almost threw his plants into the trunk, put the cart back with lightning speed, started his car and drove off faster than he thought was possible. He was scared of driving-- he always remained careful and hated going fast. Now, he was more focused on getting the hell away from that place. He hoped it would burn down with that boy inside of it. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die forever. Oh. My. Gods.
By the time Nico reached his apartment, his hands were still trembling on the steering wheel. He parked crooked, slammed the door, and left the plants in the backseat to wilt. He couldn’t look at them. He couldn’t look at anything. He stumbled inside, threw his jacket onto the couch, and collapsed face-first onto his bed. His heart hadn’t slowed since the wave. It was just a wave, he told himself. A stupid, meaningless wave. But every time time he closed his eyes, he saw it again. The easy smile, the sunlight hitting his crush’s hair just right, the way his hand lifted like it was the most natural thing in the world. Nico let out a strangled groan and buried his face deeper into the sheets. He hated it. Hated the way his chest felt too tight, hated that he cared so much, hated that one boy could ruin him like this. But under all that anger, hidden in the mess of shame, was the smallest, most dangerous thought of all--
Maybe he’ll wave again next time.
♡