Chapter Text
It’s cold when Nunew wakes. He finds himself in a bedroom too familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. How long has it been since he moved in? He honestly was not sure. He spends a few minutes sitting upright on his bed, watching the pitter patter of the rain against the glass of his window. He feels a hole in his chest, a sense of loss and longing that he cannot find a source of. Yet then again, he knows he’d experience a loss too hard to bear that he’d force himself to forget. Maybe this was better, ignorance was bliss and he wished to run away as much as he could.
His feet land cold on his bedroom floor and he reads a note of the work he needs to do by this month, though he does not quite remember when he wrote it. By habit, he washes up and dresses himself up. Before he knows it, he finds himself tying his shoelaces at his doorstep, his laptop and work materials neatly packed in the bag sitting beside him. He isn’t sure where he wants to go, but his feet would guide him.
The rain had stopped by the time he headed out and he avoided the puddles on the wet asphalt street. The smell of rain left a sense of peace in him and he craved a cup of warm coffee. He tries not to think of how strange it is that he does not remember liking coffee. Nunew’s feet take him where they wish to bring, as if through muscle memory, past familiar but distant buildings.
As he walks, one place in particular catches his eye; blue flowers. He finds himself standing at the gates of his neighbour’s house, facing a garden full of blue flowers. A relatively tall and handsome man exits from the front door with an apron on and walks the main path, making his way towards Nunew. As he comes face to face with this ‘stranger’, a sense of overwhelming comfort and familiarity washes over him. He feels the urge to reach out and crumble in the older man’s embrace but he holds his tears back. Nunew cannot comprehend his emotions, especially when the person should be a complete stranger to him.
He catches the way the ‘stranger’ looks at him, and the glimpse of fondness and pain leaves Nunew more puzzled than anything. The man seemed to catch himself in the moment quickly, a smile blooming on his face. ‘He has a pretty smile. It would be prettier if he was not forcing it.’ Nunew thought. Questions were appearing in his head: of why he felt as though he’d known the man even though this should be their first meeting, of why he knew the man was older, of why it’s as if he’s seen the man’s smile before and thought it reminded him of the warm morning sunshine.
Zee: “Hey.”
Nunew: “Hello…I apologise for intruding.”
Zee: “Oh uh, no no. We’re about to open, you can come and sit inside if you’d like.”
Nunew: “Open?”
Zee: “Oh right, sorry let me explain. This is like a shophouse cafe, I live upstairs but we have a florist and a cafe downstairs. You live on this street too, right?”
Nunew: “Oh I see, that’s great. It’s nice to know you, neighbour.”
Nunew tries to ignore how the smile falters on the man’s face.
Nunew: “I’m Nunew.”
Zee: “...I’m Zee. It’s nice to meet you too, neighbour.”
Nunew does sit inside the shop, as if he meant to be there from the beginning. The warm coffee he orders comes sweeter than he expected, considering he did not mention his desired sweetness level, but it perfectly matches his taste. He knows he’d been rather forgetful lately, but somehow he always manages to get back into work; as if his brain was working but his heart was not. By the time he stops to take a break, another downpour has begun.
Now that he was more relaxed, he finally let curiosity take over and wandered his eyes around the shop. Outside the long glass windows were the ever-so-eye-catching flowers, of different kinds but the same colour. The plants wavered ever-so-slightly with the wind and the fall of rain. The shop clearly sold more colourful and varied flowers than those in the garden, he wondered why they only planted blue ones.
It wasn’t a crowded place, enough people to know of their presence but not too many for it to be noisy. There was an essence of peace in a safe zone. The man Nunew saw earlier, Zee, stands behind the counter closer to the main entrance (Nunew assumes it’s the counter for selling flowers) and fumbles with a bouquet of flowers. He looks at it from different angles and tidies the strings and ribbons. Nunew tries not to think of how attractive he finds him.
When his snooping eyes had enough to see, he decided to get back to work. Soon enough, the evening sun had set and Nunew had certainly overstayed more than he’d intended. The sky seemed awfully upset as it continued to cry even as he prepared to leave. But when Nunew reaches to find his umbrella, he realises he had not brought it. Quite a silly thing to miss when he’d awoken to rain.
So he sighs and sits back down in the seat he’d warmed for the past few hours, hoping that the sky would be comforted soon enough. Yet the relentless tears fell from dark clouds and Nunew found himself leaning his head on palm, right elbow propped up, wishing he’d brought a book to read. As if sensing his boredom, someone approaches his table.
Zee: “Did you forget your umbrella?”
Nunew: “Yea, was it very obvious?”
Zee: “Well, you did seem like you were about to leave but you sat back down and watched the rain. So I assumed.”
Nunew: “Yes, you assumed right. I’ve been quite forgetful lately, it’s silly.”
Zee feels the tug at his heart and chooses to look away and get the umbrella; he could not cry in front of Nunew.
Zee: “It’s alright, sometimes I…forget too. You can use this umbrella to get home.”
Zee offers him an orange-coloured umbrella, and Nunew thinks about how the cat drawings remind him of the orange tabby cat he had when he was younger.
Nunew: “Oh, thank you so much. I’ll come return it when the rain stops.”
Zee: “No it’s fine, you can just give it back on your next visit here.”
Then, Zee walked back to the florist counter to assist a customer. Nunew gathers his things, gets up, and finally leaves this time, the bell at the door greeting him goodbye. He opened the orange umbrella and walked into the rain, trying not to think of how it was as if Zee knew he’d make his way back to the shop again. Instead he made a mental note to ask about the blue flowers the next time he went.
—————————
This time the morning dew was what dripped from the flower petals instead of raindrops, and Nunew gets to really see the flowers in their glory. Once he was done admiring the leaves and petals outside, he got himself comfortable in the same seat again and began work.
A small plate of macarons was placed on his table soon after, even when he had yet to order anything. When he asks of the plate, the cafe worker just tells him it’s on the house. The macarons are delicious, they’re sweet and melt in his mouth. He recalls the taste from a time he does not remember, perhaps he’d eaten a similar recipe when he was young.
When Zee comes to greet him, he finally gets the chance to ask.
Nunew: “I’ve been wondering since yesterday, why blue flowers only?”
Zee freezes for a moment before replying.
Zee: “I like blue. Plus, it’s quite striking in our neighbourhood of pale buildings isn’t it? It can attract people here. We sell other flowers though, of course, we get them from suppliers.”
Nunew: “Mm…it’s a calming colour.”
Zee: “You know, you could say it’s like a sea of flowers.”
Nunew isn’t sure if the florist meant for it to be a joke, but it brings a chuckle out of him. When he looks back up, Zee is watching him with a bittersweet smile, with such fondness and adoration that he can’t control the beat of his heart.
That day, he forgets to bring the umbrella. It was unfortunate and he felt bad for borrowing and not returning but oh well, he would come again another day. Perhaps it’d also allow him to see the dashing florist again, that’d surely be a blessing in disguise.
But he doesn’t go for the next two days, finding himself in a mood he quite disliked. He had an unsettling dream and everything felt off since, as if the centre of his earth was tilted slightly more than before. He doesn’t like how he wakes up on those two days, he doesn’t like how the temperature feels heaty, he doesn’t like that he feels the stickiness of sweat on him even after he showered, and it brought him no comfort even when it finally rained.
The sound of breaking glass and crushing metal rings in his ears on the two nights, it digs into his bones and eats into his soul. Misery. He hated his own mind, for reminding him of things he wants to forget and taking away things he wishes to remember. But then again, how could he let himself forget?
When his tears stain his pillows, he feels the ghost of a warm embrace. The shadow of a big hand that pats the back of his head, soft lips that press lovingly against his forehead, and the familiar but unrecognisable voice humming a tune that lulls him to sleep.
The weather feels perfect on his next visit; the sun didn’t burn him under its heat and the wind blew soft and refreshing. He isn’t sure how he could miss a place he had just gotten to know that week, but he does, and the blue flowers that appear in sight make him feel serene. The way the florist’s lips slowly curl into a smile as they meet eyes reassures Nunew, as if welcoming him home. It was happening again, the feeling of home in a stranger, but Nunew doesn’t hate it.
He forgets the orange umbrella again.
…
Nunew: “What flower is that?”
Zee: “Hydrangea.”
Nunew: “Does it have a flower meaning?”
Zee: “Of course, there’s a few meanings though. Blue hydrangeas could mean apology and forgiveness, regret, or gratitude and understanding.”
Nunew: “They’re pretty, could I buy some?”
Zee: “Hmm, how about this? Since you’re a regular, I’ll give one to you for free.”
Nunew wasn’t sure if just coming a few times in this one week made him a regular, but he did not comment. Zee comes back to his table with a stalk of hydrangea wrapped nicely and gives it to him.
Zee: “A pretty flower for a pretty person.”
He feels like he should feel nervous that this very eye-candy florist neighbour of his could be flirting with him, but he doesn’t. Instead a smile naturally comes to his face.
…
At the end of the week, he finally remembers to bring the umbrella. He’d hope to finally return it, he had definitely kept it for too long. But the downpour comes again that evening, and Zee asks him to just take it with him. He doesn’t think about how he slightly thanks the rain.
Back and forth did the umbrella go in the month, from forgetting to returning to borrowing once more.
By the end of the second week, he’d started keeping a note of flower meanings, and the vase in his room never had a day without a stalk with blue petals. Nunew also confirmed his initial presumptions by then; Zee was indeed older than him, and his smile was indeed like the warm light of the morning sun.
In the third week, the cafe plays a song he knows yet does not remember the name of, and Zee hums along to it. Nunew doesn’t understand why he feels like crying. Their conversation grew longer and longer, and they’d gotten each other’s contact. They had their first unofficial date in that same week and first held hands that weekend.
By the fourth week, they got together and Nunew had never felt more comfortable and at home as when he was held by the older’s strong arms. Zee found place in Nunew’s life as his lover so easily, as if he was always meant to be there. He quickly picked up on Nunew biting his lips when he was too buried in thought, and he never placed coriander in Nunew’s plate whenever he cooked, as if he knew the younger disliked it.
One day, Zee asks him to sing a song. Nunew hadn’t sung for as long as he’d like to remember, and it feels so out of a sudden.
Nunew: “I haven’t sung in forever, I don’t think I’d sound good.”
Zee: “Trust me, you will.”
Nunew: “How do you know?”
Zee: “…Hmm, I’ve heard you hum along to tunes before.”
He eventually gives in, because he could never really say ‘no’ to Zee. They find themselves sitting on Zee’s mattress, the florist holding a guitar and Nunew attempting to sing. It comes out smoother and easier than Nunew expects, like he had sung recently but that wasn’t quite possible, he had no memory of such.
…
Nunew: “Hia, you’ve had relationships before this right?”
Zee freezes and ignores the lump in his throat.
Nunew: “You don’t have to answer if you’d prefer not to. I was just wondering since my company’s having the concept of first love in our next event.”
Zee: “I have.”
Nunew: “Did you get together with your first love?”
Zee: “…Yea.”
Nunew: “What was it like?”
Zee: “…Bittersweet.”
Nunew: “Would you be okay to share why you broke up?”
Zee didn’t answer to that and Nunew found no reason to push him to. If the older felt it was the right time and it was necessary, he would have told him.
…
On the first few nights they’d stayed over at each other’s house, Nunew could not sleep well. He was concerned his nightmare would haunt his nights, and he did not wish to scare away the florist, who he had just recently begun dating. But his efforts left him exhausted, and he eventually did cave in to sleep.
The unavoidable day came when his tears fell late into the night, his chest heaving and breath unstable. He expects the florist to panic and be unsure of what to do. But Zee wakes to his predicament and just pulls him into his arms. A warm hand wipes his tears and soft lips kiss his forehead. He falls asleep to low hum of Zee’s voice and the rhythm of Zee’s breathing that night and every night after, replacing the gut churning sounds of scratching metal.
Zee never asks him about it, no matter how many times it occurs. And Nunew’s too afraid for that conversation to question Zee’s unconditional understanding.
A month and a half later, they’d completely meshed and intertwined into each other’s lives. Nunew found the florist with sad looks and in a daze more and more often, and he wishes he could take the man’s worries away. When he finally asks, he almost regrets it with the way Zee’s heart seemed to crumble at his question.
Zee: “I…It’s just that I’ve been so happy being with you lately and it feels like it might all just slip away. The fear of losing something so dear to me, it’s been haunting me.”
Nunew leans into the hand on his cheek. He understands what Zee means so well; everything has been so perfect that he’s so afraid his happiness will break. Somewhere in his heart, he always feels: he does not deserve it, he does not deserve to be happy.
Unbeknownst to Nunew was the depth and underlying meaning of Zee’s reply. You see, Zee was quite aware that he was going to lose. Like grasping at falling sand, he knew it would slip away. Until it makes it’s return like the tidal waves.
Three days before the 2 months mark since they met, Zee breaks down into tears without explanation. Nunew holds the florist as he cries into his shoulder at the doorstep of Nunew’s home, the orange umbrella stands beside his shoe cabinet and a bouquet of forget-me-nots held in Zee’s hand.
…
Then Nunew wakes. And then he sleeps. He wakes. Then he sleeps. Three days pass in a daze, he isn’t quite sure what he does.
Three days later, Nunew wakes. His floor is cold and there’s a note on his bedroom table. It isn’t raining. He isn’t sure how long it’d been since he moved, his room feels so distant like he’d just started living here but he walks in it like he knows every corner.
He washes up and gets ready.
He goes where his feet takes him.
He lands in front of a house in his neighbourhood, a sea of blue flowers in the garden, and he’s unable to take his eyes off of it.
The man tending to the flowers notices his presence and comes to him.
Nunew: “Good morning, I’m sorry to intrude.”
???: “No that’s alright, the cafe will be open soon if you’d like to come in.”
Nunew: “Oh, I’d love to. I didn’t know there was such a place here. Maybe I need to explore this neighbourhood more.”
“…You live around here right? I’m Zee, it’s nice to know you, neighbour.”
“I’m Nunew, it’s nice to meet you too, neighbour.”
He thinks his neighbour is as attractive as the beautiful flowers in the garden, but Nunew finds it strange to say such a thing to a person he’d just met. Some part of him hoped that they would be close enough someday, enough for him to tell Zee that.