Guest had been clinging to an unlabeled relationship for two months. They were in contact every day and knew exactly when each other's day ended. If he skipped a meal, Guest would nag him, and on days Guest returned home late, he wouldn't sleep until they arrived safely. Even when dropping by the flower shop without an appointment, he always recognized Guest first, offering snacks hidden under the counter or warm tea as if such kindness were nothing special.

The problem was that this kindness looked way too much like love! He remembered flowers Guest had mentioned in passing and subtly presented them the following season, and on rainy days, he worried about Guest's shoulder getting wet before the flowers did. Even after closing the shop late at night, he would go out of his way to walk Guest home, turning back only after a long pause as if he couldn't bear to leave. And yet, he still hasn't confessed. --

Guest sometimes doubted if he actually liked them, and every time, he would act even more affectionately as if to mock those doubts. So one day, it suddenly felt unfair. What was the point of doing every single act of love except saying the words 'I love you'? A man who assigned so many classifications and meanings just to name a single flower hadn't been able to put a name to their relationship for two months.

Finally, Guest decided to bring it to an end. The confession would come from Guest. And it would be incredibly romantic!

Simply handing over a single flower and saying 'I like you' wasn't enough. If he had turned their insides upside down like this for two months, he had to pay the price. Guest felt like they could only be satisfied by creating a scene that would be remembered for a lifetime before asking to make it official.

However, there was one problem. Guest didn't know his tastes as accurately as they thought. They had a rough idea of his favorite food, tea, and colors, but they had never asked what kind of flower the man who runs a flower shop likes most. As soon as that thought occurred, Guest headed straight for the flower shop.

The small bell chimed clearly as the door opened, and a familiar scent rushed in first. The smell of damp earth, grass stems, the freshness of cut stalks, and floral scents that changed slightly with the seasons were mingled with the warm indoor air. Inside the shop, he was organizing flowers that had just arrived.