Work Text:
Sha Ya found the flower shop quite by accident. After a show, she had done some obligatory drinking with the crew. Then she drank some more, because it was easier than facing her giant empty apartment. Then she drank even more, because it was easier than stopping. So she wound up outside the flower shop in the very early hours of the morning, was overcome by the heavy floral scent of the freshly arrived cut flowers, and vomited in an empty bucket.
Well, it wasn’t entirely empty. There were some molding stems and leaves in there, which didn’t help with Sha Ya’s stomach, but at least she’d missed the flowers.
That was when her angel appeared. A young woman, who had been moving the flowers into the shop, rushed to her side. She helped Sha Ya inside and upstairs to a bathroom, where Sha Ya once more emptied her stomach. After Sha Ya insisted she didn’t need to go to the hospital (the paparazzi would have a field day,) the young woman got her to drink some water and then bundled her onto a pullout bed.
That was the last Sha Ya remembered until she woke up with a splitting headache in the evening.
Her phone was buzzing with reminders of missed calls and texts. She shot off a quick message to her manager, assuring him she was fine, and then rolled over, wishing for sweet death.
Instead, she found a cool cloth pressing against her forehead. Her angel was there, dabbing at her forehead.
“Can you drink some more water?” her angel said.
Sha Ya gratefully accepted the water, as well as the pills profered. “Please don’t tell anyone about this,” Sha Ya managed to say. Her throat sounded scratchy, and she was really glad that she didn’t have any obligations that night.
“Who would I tell?”
Sha Ya looked up into the devastatingly gorgeous face of her angel. The woman’s brows knit together in confusion.
“Ah,” Sha Ya said, tucking away the unfamiliar sensation that came from anonymity, “no one I guess. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” The woman smiled, her expression soft, and something bloomed inside of Sha Ya’s chest. “If you need anything, let me know. I have some plain rice porridge if you can stomach it later.”
That would probably be much, much later, given the way Sha Ya’s stomach lurched.
The woman bit her lip and pressed a hand against Sha Ya’s forehead. “Are you alright?”
“I will be,” Sha Ya said, wishing that warm hand did not have to go away. She reached up to catch it and held it there a moment longer.
She could always blame the alcohol for it.
The woman’s cheeks blossomed pink, and Sha Ya felt immensely pleased.
And then she needed to close her eyes once more because her head reminded her just how much she had consumed the night before.
--
It turned out Sha Ya’s angel’s name was Hua Yuzhu. Hua Yuzhu ran the flower shop mostly by herself, although she employed at least one strapping young man who was fortunately easy to avoid.
Sha Ya rearranged her schedule so she could wander to the flower shop just as it was closing. Hua Yuzhu always invited her in, and they would sit with cups of tea and munch on snacks that Sha Ya brought, chatting. Sometimes they would watch a movie or a reality tv show (although never one Sha Ya had been on, she made sure), and other times, Sha Ya would find herself dozing off, only to jolt awake with a blanket draped over her.
Just being with Hua Yuzhu filled some part of Sha Ya she didn’t know was missing. Sure, she got adulation from audiences. Letters, gifts, and declarations of love flooded her manager’s office, and she only got away with walking around outside by wearing an oversized hoodie, hood pulled up, and sunglasses. On top of that, she had money to burn; her last album had been her best selling yet.
Being with Hua Yuzhu was better than all of that combined. It was almost better than playing music at all, and that was only because music was on par with breathing for Sha Ya.
Hua Yuzhu knew nothing of those celebrity trappings. Sha Ya could be herself. She didn’t have to smile or flirt to curry favor with fans or executives. She could be messy and upset and genuinely happy with Hua Yuzhu.
Her manager was beginning to complain.
“You’ve just got done with a tour and charity concert, sure, I get it, you want some down time, but there’s a new album to write!” he scolded her one evening as she waited in an alley for the flower shop to close.
“I’ll get it written,” Sha Ya promised him. The truth was, she hadn’t written anything down in weeks, but her head was full of music, more so than ever. Every time she heard Hua Yuzhu laugh or caught a whiff of her hair or saw the sparkle of her smile, Sha Ya’s mind exploded with music. If she could harness that noise she heard, shape it, and make something of it, a shining, electrifying monument, she would. But it would all be just for Hua Yuzhu.
Her fingers twitched around her cellphone. It wasn’t just her guitar she wanted to play.
Shy wanted to play Hua Yuzhu. To have her writhing beneath Sha Ya, as Sha Ya found the sweet spots that made Hua Yuzhu sing herself… Fingers running over breasts and into valleys, around curves and lips and breath ghosting against skin…
Well, Sha Ya did think it was important for a musician to expand her repertoire.
Sha Ya shook her head. ‘Hey, set up something for me tonight, okay? A show. Something intimate. I’ll do it unplugged.”
Her manager sighed, but agreed. It wasn’t the first time she’d done an impromptu show. Luckily, there was one club that always accommodated her. It was where she’d gotten her start, after all.
It meant she wouldn’t be able to see Hua Yuzhu at the normal time. Sha Ya would need to get home, grab her guitar, warm up. She texted an apology. Hua Yuzhu replied shortly after that she didn’t mind meeting up later.
It’ll be the middle of the night, Sha Ya wrote back.
I can wait, Hua Yuzhu replied. I have something for you.
Sha Ya pressed the screen of her cell phone to her mouth to hide her grin.
--
Sha Ya never did any promo for these gigs. It helped keep the crowd manageable (though it was still always packed). Once she got on stage, social media accounts would alert nearby fans, who would in turn flock to the club. She would take a break, an originally scheduled act playing their gig, and then step back on stage for a few more songs. Then, she’d slip away.
It was good for her to play in a more intimate setting, a reminder of back when she was struggling to get recognized, and it helped boost both drink sales and the other performers’ album sales. It was a win all around.
She also sometimes used the opportunity to test out new songs, apologizing with a smile that this wasn’t finished yet and seeing how the crowd reacted.
She did something similar that night, but instead of anything prepared, she improvised. “This is for someone very special to me,” Sha Ya told the audience, “someone who sees me for who I am, and I hope you all find that special someone one day.” Sha Ya closed her eyes and imagined Hua Yuzhu before her, bright and beautiful, and then played.
People posted that night that they cried during Sha Ya’s new song. There was longing in that song, yet it was sweet and beautiful, a note of hope rather than regret. Couples there entwined their hands, and friends hooked their arms around each other.
Sha Ya, for her part, saw none of this. She kept her eyes closed and played, sometimes singing half formed lyrics, and sometimes singing along to the guitar with gentle la la las. And all the while, she pictured Hua Yuzhu, standing in her shop as she closed up, the setting sun flooding the little store and kissing the petals of the unsold flowers. She saw Hua Yuzhu turn her gentle smile to Sha Ya. She felt the touch of Hua Yuzhu’s hand in hers as she led her upstairs to her apartment above.
And Sha Ya imagined telling Hua Yuzhu she was falling in love with her. She imagined drawing Hua Yuzhu in and kissing her, again and again. She imagined words of love falling from Hua Yuzhu’s beautiful lips in turn.
But Sha Ya was terrified to ever tell her.
As the last note faded, the crowd burst into cheers. Sha Ya blushed, as if they had seen everything she had been thinking of. But that was silly. She thanked them and hurried off stage.
She needed to see Hua Yuzhu.
When she arrived, the light in Hua Yuzhu’s apartment was on. Sha Ya pressed the buzzer and waited.
Hua Yuzhu did not answer.
She tried again. Again, no response.
She called. “Hua Yuzhu?” On the other end she could hear crying. “Hey! Are you okay? I’m here, let me in.”
“I can’t,” Hua Yuzhu said. Her voice sounded small and distant. “I can’t, Sha Ya, I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Hey, come on, talk to me. Let me in. I can help, please just let me in.”
She continued to plead, feeling her own voice starting to break, when Hua Yuzhu finally came down and opened the door.
Even upset, she looked beautiful, and Sha Ya felt ashamed at the thought.
Hua Yuzhu kept a few steps ahead of her as she led Sha Ya up. Once they were in the living room, Sha Ya immediately went to put an arm around Hua Yuzhu. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Hua Yuzhu shrank inward, away from her touch. “I’m sorry,” she said, still sobbing. “I’m so sorry, I should have told you that first day, but I couldn’t, I just-”
“Please, just tell me what’s going on.” Sha Ya’s stomach dropped. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. “Take some deep breaths. It’s alright.”
Hua Yuzhu let Sha Ya lead her to her couch. Sha Ya rubbed her back until Hua Yuzhu’s crying had calmed down.
“Please,” Hua Yuzhu said, and her voice sounded even fainter than it had on the phone, “don’t hate me. I’m sorry.”
The pit in Sha Ya’s stomach grew. “Why would I hate you?”
Hua Yuzhu gripped her hands together so tightly, Sha Ya feared she’d hurt herself. “I saw your show tonight.”
Sha Ya’s hand froze on Hua Yuzhu’s back. “What? Why were you there?”
“Your fangroup,” Hua Yuzhu said. “Someone posted and I-... I rushed over. I’ve… never missed a show.”
The world grew very small then, and Sha Ya found herself unable to look away from Hua Yuzhu’s trembling hands.
“... Never?”
Hua Yuzhu shook her head. “Not the ones there. I’ve… I’ve followed you for ages. I have all your albums. That day-” Hua Yuzhu’s voice broke as she fought against a sob. “At first, with your head in the bin, I didn’t know, and then you passed out, and I- I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged you up here, and I ran around hiding posters and CDs and-” She inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, but I thought- I thought you’d hate me if you knew, and the more we talked, the more I feared you’d find out, and I just couldn’t, because-”
She babbled on. Sha Ya continued to stare at her hands. Her fingers were long and gorgeous, and Sha Ya found herself wanting to hold those fingers. She reached out and laid her hand over Hua Yuzhu’s, her thumb stroking Hua Yuzhu’s skin.
Hua Yuzhu stopped talking.
“I meant it,” Sha Ya said. Her eyes burned. “What I said on stage. I’ve never felt more seen than when I was with you, Hua Yuzhu.”
She turned her face up to meet Hua Yuzhu’s eyes. Hua Yuzhu looked shocked, mouth open, eyes puffy and red from crying, her checks still wet.
“I love you, Hua Yuzhu.”
Hua Yuzhu stared, speechless.
Sha Ya laughed a little. “Come on, you can give me a little something in return.”
Hua Yuzhu swallowed. “But I… I lied to you.”
“I don’t care.” Sha Ya leaned forward until her forehead rested against Hua Yuzhu’s. “I’ve never felt so comfortable around anyone else. Even now, all I want to do is hold you until you feel better, because my heart breaks when you’re sad.”
“You’re crying,” Hua Yuzhu said, soft as a whisper.
“You are, too,” Sha Ya said, petulant, and then she sniffled, wholly inelegantly.
Hua Yuzhu opened her hands to take Sha Ya’s. “I love you,” Hua Yuzhu said, “the you on stage and the you who threw up in my waste bin, and the you who sits on this couch with me and laughs at the same stupid shows. I love all of you, Sha Ya.”
Sha Ya laughed. She laughed and pulled Hua Yuzhu’s face to hers and kissed her. It was wet and salty and awkward from all the crying between the two of them, and Sha Ya wouldn’t have traded it for anything.
“You said you had something to give me,” Sha Ya said at last, as they leaned into one another. Her head rested on Hua Yuzhu’s shoulders, and Hua Yuzhu’s head was atop hers.
“Ah.” Hua Yuzhu disentangled herself long enough to grab a small box that sat on the coffee table in front of them that Sha Ya had entirely failed to notice.
Inside was a pair of earrings.
“It’s silly,” Hua Yuzhu said, “but I saw them and bought them for you before I knew what I was doing.”
Sha Ya lifted them out of the box. “I love them,” she said, turning her smile to Hua Yuzhu. “But I can only wear one.”
“What?”
Sha Ya reached up and slipped one of the earrings into Hua Yuzhu’s pierced earlobe before slipping the other one on herself. “There,” she said. “I think that’s better.”
Hua Yuzhu reddened, and she fell into Sha Ya with a loud, “Ah!” Sha Ya laughed. “You’re too smooth for me,” Hua Yuzhu whined against her shoulder.
Sha Ya kissed the top of her head.
They fell asleep on the couch, hands clasped together and heads bowed inward, worn out from the night. And when Sha Ya awoke, with Hua Yuzhu next to her and music dancing in her head, nothing could have made her happier.