Today I'm just hanging out behind the counter. There aren't that many customers this early in the morning—it's barely nine a.m. —so I have a chance to just relax. Truthfully, school has been sapping at my energy and lately, Nishimura Riki has been taking up a lot of my headspace.

I don't know what it is about that boy that makes me think about him so often. I mean, I barely know him personally. He's just my friend, in his words, and one that's struggling with a lot right now. What is it with me these days?

"So, what's on your mind?" Kei pops up around the corner of the aisle a few feet away from me. I changed my mind earlier and asked him to come and replant a few flowers, so he's doing that while I sit here and do my homework in the quiet sounds of him working. Unfortunately, when someone's in the room, I tend to talk often, and today I'm very quiet, so he knows something is up.

"Nothing," I sigh, drawing stars and flowers in the margins of my notebook. "Just...I don't know, to be honest."

"That boy?" he asks knowingly, brushing the dirt off his hands and reaching for the planter. "What's his name again?"

"Nishimura Riki," I answer. "Well, yes. That and school, but yes."

"I sense the beginnings of a crush," he pronounces, disappearing behind the aisle again. "Matsuki Seiko, with a crush!"

"Don't be ridiculous," I frown, though he can't see it. "I met him a few weeks ago and I've only seen him thrice in those few weeks. Also, he's very much in love with someone else, so I don't see the point."

"Romance doesn't have a point most of the times," Kei says. "He's in love with someone, huh? I'm assuming the zinnias were for them? What happened?"

"Yeah," I say, looking down at the pattern of flowers and stars I've drawn. It'll get me in trouble with the teacher, but it's so pretty I don't want to erase it. "It was. She had cancer. He was—still is pretty...upset about it. Don't let him know that you know. He won't appreciate someone else finding out."

"I can see why, poor kid. Is he doing okay enough to not raise concern?"

"He skipped school for about two weeks or so," I say. "Does that count?"

"I think that's just him grieving," Kei decides. "But just in case, keep an eye on him when he comes around. You know him from school, right?"

"Nah, we're in different classes."

Just then, the bell jingles and the door swings open. In walks the very boy we're talking about. "Hey, Nishimura-san," I smile. It's been a few days since I last saw him. "What brings you back today—whoa, what's with you hair?"

Today, he's wearing a pair of jeans and a black jacket with drawings of brightly-colored planets over a white shirt under his heavy winter jacket. I stare, startled, at his hair. It's been dyed a dusky blonde, peeking out from under his beanie.

"Do I look bad?" he reaches up to touch it self-consciously with a gloved hand. "It was impulsive..."

"No," I smile again, "you look good. You look great with it."

In his outfit and hair, he looks amazing. His smile his beautiful, radiant, even. In comparison to his shininess, I feel drab in my regular, plain shirt and jeans. It seems his grief does nothing to weigh down the good looks he naturally possesses.

"Thank you," he says. I can't help but keep smiling back at him—it's impossible not to with his own trained on me. Kei clears his throat pointedly from somewhere behind the aisles, and I look away, feeling warm all over.

"Anyway," I say, "you're here for more flowers?"

"I guess so," he looks around. "I mostly just needed a way to escape the pitying looks my family gives me, so..."

I wince. "That can't be pleasant."

"It's not," he grumbles. "I am grieving like a normal human being, but they're treating it like I got both my arms cut off. I am capable of doing things by myself. Believe me, having everyone trying to do everything for you becomes so stifling that it's impossible to bear after a while."

"So they're giving you space but being annoying while they're at it?" I ask. "You know they're just worried about you, right?"

"I know that, but..." he sighs. "I don't know. I'm just constantly frustrated and angry at everyone and everything these days. I even yelled at my little sister when she tried to help me with homework yesterday and she cried. She never cries when I'm mad at her. She's two years younger than I am but a lot tougher in some ways."

I feel bad for him, remembering my own guilt for getting upset at my little cousins. "It sounds like everyone's a little high-strung these days," I say sympathetically. "Was Rinne close to your family?"

"As close as a friend can get," he says, eyes clouding over. "My sisters adored her. Besides her parents and me, they're the ones who visit her grave the most."

"Want me to get enough flowers for your sisters to give to her?" I offer. He looks at me, surprised, but nods. "Will sunflowers do?"

At this, his eyebrows go up. "Sunflowers?" he asks. "What meaning do they have?"

"Of course, it means love," I say, tapping my pencil periodically against the wood surface of the counter. "It represents adoration, loyalty, and longevity—permanence, if you want to simplify things. According to the website I read, it reminds many of summer days and sunny memories spent together. You have those, don't you?"

He nods. "All three of us, yeah."

"The sunflower is a perfect way to tell someone they're a friend for life and that you appreciate what they do for you," I say. "That sounds about right for your sisters?"

"Yep," he gives me that smile again. The smile that I now realize makes me feel a little warm, the one that I now realize makes my heart speed up just a bit. What is wrong with me? I wonder, calling out to Kei, who's right next to the sunflowers. "Thanks."

"No problem," I tell him, accepting the flowers from Kei, who smirks at me. "Like I said when I gave you the primroses, it's the least I can do."

"You're really nice," he suddenly comments. My hands, deftly working the sunflowers into two separate bouquets, freeze. I hear that one often, for some reason. Mostly, I'm told that my energy and my willingness to communicate makes me cute. But hearing it from Nishimura Riki makes it feel different, somehow.

"What makes you say that?" I ask, glancing up at him and looking back down when I realize he's watching the bouquet. Hurriedly, I resume my work.

"It's just that I've been to many florists and none are as friendly as you are," he says. "None have tried to help me so much."

"One, I'm not the florist, I'm just the florist's daughter," I say, feeling like a tomato. Why does this boy have this kind of power over me? "Two, I'm not being nice, I'm just...alright, I'm being nice. But that doesn't make me a nice person, does it?"

"You're also genuine," he offers. "You actually want to help me find the perfect flowers. Not many florists I've been to have been are interested the way you are."

"Oh." I don't know what to say to that. "Um..."

"Don't look so embarrassed," he laughs, patting my hand. I blush even deeper, now realizing that Eri and Kei may have a point. "It's just a compliment."

"I know, but nobody compliments me so sincerely," I mumble. "Thank you?"

"I should be thanking you," he grins. I think again that his grin so innocent, so—so youthful, highlighting his age, fifteen, but not making him seem any less mature for it. I couldn't pinpoint what exactly about it charmed me so much. Maybe it was the lightness of it, how easy it seemed for him to smile in any way—shyly (most often), kindly, sincerely, confidently, happily.

"You're welcome, then," I say, thrusting the bouquets at him. "Let me know what your sisters think of these. Speaking of which, did you ever get to..."

He knows what I mean. "She loved the flowers. Both of what you gave me."

"That's good to know," I sigh in relief.

"See you later, Matsuki-san," he says. "I'll stop by with my little sister next time."

"Alright," I agree, deciding it's not a bad idea to meet her. "See you later."

He waves at me and leaves the shop. I stare at the door. I'm done for if that's what four or five encounters with him does to me.

"You are so whipped, Matsuki Seiko," Kei says smugly from his spot in the aisle.

"Shut up," I snap at him, trying to maintain a fierce scowl, but I'm smiling widely.

✧✧✧

WORD COUNT: 1513

A/N: yes, i am basically writing off personal experience and projecting it onto riki. and yes, you are currently seeing my obsession with his smiles and grins.