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It started, as a less than average amount of events do, with half a loaf of moldy bread.
Every afternoon, Seymour ate the same plain sandwich with the same canned tuna and the same white bread. He’d half a mind to be worried about his nutrition—the concept of crop rotations should probably apply to people too—if not for the fact that Mr. Mushnik had been doing the same for as long as Seymour knew him, and he was as healthy as a rather stationary old man could be.
That morning, Seymour had awoken to find Mr. Mushnik tossing their half loaf of bread into the bin, muttering about mold and scolding Seymour for not sealing it properly. He’d given him a few dollars to run down to Schmendrick’s and get them some sandwiches before the shop opened (yours’ll be coming straight out of your paycheck, Krelborn!) and so Seymour had hurried outside, tripping right into a freezing puddle in his haste to hurry over. Soggy and shivering, He paid for their sandwiches that didn’t taste at all like the one he ate every day (damnit he had planned to eat it that day-) and made it back to the shop in record time, smothering the crawling frustration under his cold skin as he threw off his wet clothes and struggled into dry ones.
His rush to procure them lunch meant he hadn’t had time for breakfast, which normally wouldn’t be too much of a problem, but ever since he’s started feeding that strange and interesting plant his typically meager appetite had increased, and the lack of food in his stomach left him feeling shaky and slow as he dealt with the influx of customers Audrey II attracted to the shop.
On the topic of Audrey II, the original Audrey was late to work as per usual, and the lack of her presence brought his mood down further. Without her there it was up to Seymour to make the arrangements, but at his best he was sloppy and his shaking hands and foggy head only made his general clumsiness worse and then suddenly-
“Seymour, are you done yet?!”
Seymour jolted in his seat, knocking the vase he was using off the counter and sending the flowers he had trimmed flying with it. The vase shattered on impact and he heard Mr. Mushnik growl in frustration from the other room.
“Seymour!! I asked you to make the arrangements not break ‘em!” He stuck his head into the side room and frowned at the glass, stepping in to examine the flowers on the ground. Much too short. Seymour trimmed them much too short. He knew that but he’d just been so out of it and-
“Good G-d, where’s Audrey when you need her?” Mushnik grumbled. “Seymour, clean this mess up then come out and handle the customers for me. I’ll do the arrangements till she comes. And she better come soon or I’d have half a mind to go down there and drag her here myself. She lives a half block away for Pete’s sake!”
Seymour grabbed his sandwich as he went to man the counter. Dropping the vase was a good sign he needed to eat. Unfortunately, his hypothesis from earlier was correct. The tuna sandwich from the deli tasted totally different from his usual. On some other day he’d probably appreciate the taste—it was more flavorful, more rich, more salty—but today the extra flavour made the tuna sit thick and heavy on his tongue, and he struggled to swallow each bite.
The frustration from before swelled and settled into a buzzing feeling deep in his gut, something frantic and intense.
He was halfway through counting out a customer’s change when the bell at the entrance rang loud and clear and in walked Audrey, Lovely Audrey, his knight in cheetah-print armor.
“Hi Seymour! Hello Mr. Mushnik!! Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late,” Audrey cried, her too-high heels clacking against the linoleum.
“Audrey, is that you? Get back here and start working right now!! We’ve got customers now, you can’t be dawdling around like this anymore!!!” Mushnik’s voice boomed from where he was working. Seymour winced.
She hurried over to the coat rack and hung up her stuff before hurrying towards the back of the shop.
Damn. Seymour didn’t even get the chance to say hi.
He bit his lip harshly and turned back to counting out quarters, trying not to think about how he could still hear Mushnik’s tone of voice in the other room; angry, then concerned, then gruff and annoyed. He’d nearly dropped the coins all over the counter when the door burst open and Mushnik came bustling out, swooping in to take the coins from his clammy hands and pass them into the customer’s with a customary “Goodbye, come again!”
With Mushnik back at the counter, Seymour was left to return to his proper job of sweeping and cleaning and caring for all the plants that haven’t been cut yet. The buzzing within him refused to settle and the awful feeling of it wouldn’t let him relax into the monotony of work.
What happened next was entirely Seymour’s fault. He’d been so focused on his sweeping, so lost in his own world that he didn’t hear the sound of small shoes tapping against linoleum or the playful humming of a child till he felt a tug on the back of his pants.
The feeling of it was sudden, unexpected, and his leg seemed to burn from the strange sensation administered without warning. The shock of it made him jump forwards, tripping over his broom and knocking over two pots which shattered to the floor with a loud CRASH. The little girl standing just steps from Seymour screamed at the sudden noise and fell to the ground herself.
Mushnik pushed himself up from behind the counter.
“Good Lord Seymour, one broken pot wasn’t enough for today?!”
The little girl whimpered and picked up her small, pudgy hands to look at them. The left one was wet with shiny red blood that welled up and dripped down her arms in fat drops. Seymour watched in awful terror as her face shifted from wide eyed with fear to pinched with tears as she let out an awful, screaming sob.
Fuck.
The girl’s mom rushed over immediately, kneeling down to examine her cuts. He was distantly aware of Mushnik talking to her, helping them up, but it was all nonsense behind the fuzz of static that filled his ears.
Fuck.
Mushnik was yelling at him, something he couldn’t hear but could probably guess (useless slob, good for nothing-) and grabbed his coat and hat as he ran out the door after the customers.
Seymour leaned against the counter, then collapsed to the ground, his knees stinging with the sudden action.
Something sharp inside him snapped as every bit of shame and frustration and overwhelm from the day crescendoed in a big, mighty wave and crashed over his head. His hands were tingling, hot and cold as his vision blurred and warped before him. Fuck. Seymour sucked in a sudden breath, then another, and another, much too fast. The bandages around his chest pressed into his ribs uncomfortably, making him claustrophobic in his own skin. Fuck. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. G-d, he just fucks everything up. He slammed a fist against the side of his head with each curse, screwing his eyes shut. Stupid, stupid, stupid-
“Seymour? What happened out here?”
Audrey. Audrey was here, but he knows she’s been going through a tough time lately, he’d seen the bruises and the cuts and Audrey, sweet, sweet Audrey shouldn’t have to deal with a mess like him while he’s having some kind of a freakout on the ground-
“Seymour!! What’s wrong? You’re breathing much too fast!”
She’s right. He pressed his hands against his mouth, stopping his breathing entirely as he tried to pull it under control, but each time he let go his lungs yanked in air just as fast as before. He was starting to feel lightheaded, even more light headed than normal, with the blood G-d the blood, the customer, fuck-
Delicate warm hands grabbed onto his own, keeping them away from his face. He looked up through hot tears (and now he was crying in front of her, she must think he’s such a weenie-) and found the blurry form of Audrey, just inches from his face, her delicate features creased with concern and a kindness that seemed to radiate from every pore of her being.
“Seymour, are you listening? You gotta calm down,” Audrey began to brush her thumbs back and forth across his hands in a steady rhythm. “Come on now, let’s take a deep breath together, ok?”
He tried to pull in a steady breath but choked as the lungs spasmed from the sudden change. Audrey guided his vision back to her as she asked him to try again, still holding his hands.
He’d managed half of another before choking again, but Audrey just patiently asked him to try again.
She sat with him like that—on the cold floor, coaching him through each shaking breath—till he’d mostly stopped crying and was able to breathe more than hyperventilate.
“There you go,” Audrey cooed. “Feeling better?”
Seymour swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded. He didn’t trust his voice right now.
“Good,” Audrey said. They sat there in silence for a moment, letting the sound of it stretch out to fill the space between them. If he looks up he can still see the edge of the shattered pot, so he buries his face in his knees instead.
Audrey wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Normally he’d kill to have Audrey as close as she was, but right now it just felt pathetic. Shame bubbled up in his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled without lifting his head. Audrey made a small noise and pulled him closer.
“Don’t be sorry, Seymour. You didn’t do anything wrong!”
Tears started welling up in his eyes again, although this time for entirely different reasons. He lifted his head and threw his arms around Audrey’s middle, drawing a small “oof!” out of her before she returned the hug, a smile tugging on her lips.
“Audrey, you know you’re my best friend, right?”
“Oh, Seymour.” Audrey kissed the top of his head gently. “You’re my best friend too!” She pulled away and stood up, offering him two steady hands to pull him onto unsteady legs. “Now, why don’t you go back and wash your face while I clean all this up, huh? It’s the least I can do, being late all the time and all.”
Seymour wiped his eyes and nodded, too worn out to argue. She gave him one more quick hug before pushing him off in the direction of the bathroom.
He lingered for a bit after splashing his face and blowing his nose, examining his appearance in the mirror. His eyes were puffy and red, and there was a bit of lipstick in his hair from where Audrey kissed him, but there was a sure warmth radiating through his chest, gentle and full unlike the burning frustration from earlier.
Maybe things would be alright.