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“Marco!”
The shopowner’s cheer drowned out the chiming of the bell as Marco stepped over the threshold into the small store. He was met by a blast of cool air, a much-needed reprieve from the humid summer that had been brewing the past few weeks. A grin spread across his face, and he waved at the man behind the counter as he approached. The door shut behind him, rattling against the windows, and the bell gave another feeble ring.
He had known Connie since seventh grade when the Springers finally decided to enroll their kids in public school. They had been homeschooled until then, but according to Mrs. Springer, Connie had been “too much of a headache” to keep at home 24/7. This statement was always delivered with a laugh that made it clear that wasn’t the real reason; Marco had never gotten it out of them, though, so he learned to let it rest. It was a good decision either way, even if Connie and Reiner had a knack for getting into trouble during high school.
While some members of Marco’s friend group had scattered about, most of them stayed in the same area. Trost was a big enough city that this wasn’t an issue. It offered enough opportunities and space for most people to do what they wanted, and you didn’t have to go very far to catch a glimpse of something new. Marco had never left the city in any permanent fashion, only on the rare vacations that his income would allow or to visit someone. Connie, on the other hand, had traveled and lived nearly everywhere. It wasn’t until a few years ago that he came back to set up this shop.
The wall behind the counter was covered in pictures he had taken on his journeys, both of the sights and the people he had met there. A pride flag hung from the ceiling above Connie’s head. Its presence was there year-round, and although Marco had come here many times before, the sight still made him smile. A jar next to the cash register held an array of smaller flags that were free, and beside that was a jar labeled “donations”. The organization changed monthly- this month was The Trevor Project. The shop itself sold an odd variety of things. The shelves were lined with anything from crystals to books to handmade jewelry. There were racks filled with clothes, some donated and some sewn in the workshop above the store. There was an area of fabric in the back, and by the wall with large windows, flowers and plants lined the aisles.
Right, that’s what Marco was here for. Flowers.
He crossed the store and slowly scanned the collection. Not many people thought to buy flowers during the summer, so Connie was usually well-stocked during this time. There were pretty bouquets of roses made up, but Marco walked past all of them. Those would surely earn him a scoff when he returned home. His eye caught on a mixture of white and yellow flowers, and he stopped his easy walk.
Diaises. A semblance of new beginnings.
Marco smiled. He took the flowers from the display and brought them up to the counter, confident that these would be received well.
“What’s the special occasion?” Connie asked as he rang the flowers up.
“There’s not one,” Marco slipped the money out of his wallet. He paid for the flowers and dropped an extra five dollars into the donation jar. “I just felt like doing something nice.”
Connie grinned in a way that suggested he understood much more than he let on. The first time Marco had seen that grin was in high school, and it flustered him so badly that he had stuttered his way through the rest of the conversation. Marco only lightly blushed now and shook his head. “I’m serious!” He protested.
The only response he got was a knowing hum followed by, “You’re sweet.”
Marco took the flowers from his friend, deciding to ignore the insinuation. “Have a nice day, Connie!” He called as he strolled out the door.
Marco made it back home as the sun was beginning to set, painting the skyline in shades of pink and gold. He’d always loved this time of day. It was a peaceful closing to the chaos of the sunlit hours, and it brought with it a blanket of blue and shining stars. The one thing he didn’t like about living in the city was not being able to see the stars every night, but that was a small price to pay for living so close to both his and Jean’s work.
He slipped his key into the door of his shared apartment, not expecting to hear anything as he stepped inside. His fiance didn’t get off for another half hour, which usually gave Marco the chance to shower off any lingering smoke smell from his day. Instead, he was met with muffled music and the sound of running water.
“Jean?” He kicked the door closed with his heel and hung his keys on the hook by the door. He took his boots off before he trekked through the living room. “Is that you?”
“Nope!” Came the call from the kitchen. Even from here, Marco could tell the man was grinning. “I’m here to rob you of your unnecessary stash of pop tarts and baking supplies!”
Rolling his eyes, Marco joined Jean in the kitchen, leaning against the doorway. “What’re you doing home?”
Jean let the water fill to the top of the pot he was holding before turning the faucet off. He set the pot on the stove and turned to Marco, leaning his hip against the edge of the counter. The music was louder now, one of the old rock bands Jean liked drifting through the speaker. “My team finished up everything for this week, so we got let off early. What're those?” He nodded towards the flowers in Marco’s hand.
Marco gave Jean the flowers, then grabbed his shoulders to move him away from the sink. Ignoring the pout thrown his way, he got a cup from the cabinet and filled it with water. “They’re for you. I thought they were pretty.”
There was a loud crinkling noise behind him and then the flowers were dropped into the make-shift vase. Jean gazed down at the colors with soft eyes before he set them on the windowsill above the sink. That familiar warm feeling bubbled in Marco’s chest, causing him to smile.
“You trying to get in my pants, Bodt?”
Marco snorted as he was pulled forward by his hips. He wrapped his arms around his fiancé, one hand coming to rest in his sandy brown hair. “Maybe.”
Jean shook his head against Marco’s shoulder, “You smell like shit.”
That ripped a laugh from the man’s chest. “There was a bakery fire out on the edge of town. It was pretty big by the time we got to it, but no one was hurt.”
Jean grabbed Marco’s shoulders and pushed him away. He stared into his eyes, frantically searching for something. Jean did this every time Marco talked about a call like that. He didn’t question it anymore, just waited until Jean found whatever he was looking for. Finally, something in Jean’s eyes stilled. He nodded and stepped away. “I don’t like it. You should shower.”
Marco smiled at him, “I’ll be back before dinner’s ready.” He moved to kiss Jean before he walked away, and the other man lingered a little longer than he normally did. When they pulled away, Marco could see that he was shaking. It was barely there, but he had known Jean long enough to see it.
After he showered, Marco would convince Jean to eat on the couch instead of at the table. He would hold him close until he had calmed down and long after. Some days, Jean needed extra reassurance that everything was okay, and Marco was more than happy to oblige.