Tattoos On Flower Petals (PruCan Mpreg)

1

It was a beautiful morning, in Matthew's opinion. He was sitting up in bed, a few of his plants shifting due to the slight breeze with the window open. He reached over and picked up his oval shape glasses, placing them gently onto his face as he grabbed a hair tie, messily putting his shoulder length hair into a bun. He got out of bed, taking off his nightshirt to replace it with a light purple button up, and a pair of light blue jeans. Matthew loosely tied an apron around his waist and up around his neck before walking out of his bedroom. He grabbed a muffin off of a plate on his counter as he went downstairs into his shop. First though, he looked across the platform to the door across from his. It belonged to the owner of the tattoo shop next door. Matthew had never been over there, not more than once. He had a headache that day and his neighbour was blasting heavy metal. Usually, Matthew wouldn't mind. In fact he would turn off his quiet classical music in his own shop to listen to it. But when he had gone over there to ask for the music to be lowered, he was met with the man who owned the shop, who he had never seen face to face in the five years of working next to each other, and living next to each other. Matthew had sort of forgotten why he had gone over there watching him dance around to his music, joke with his client. When Matthew finally got the courage to speak up, he made sure to take a look at the name tag. Gilbert.

Matthew grabbed a sharpie when he unlocked his shop doors and walked inside to his desk, going over to a calendar. He smiled softly, seeing the date. His father had written this day into the calendar, well, before his accident a couple of years ago.. Now Matthew's father asked to see the calendar from his bed, and when Matthew handed it over, he wrote down his little note in the small box of January twenty-fifth. "The Day Gilbert Moved In!"  Matthew had always forgotten about that being there until he saw it, and had ignored it until his father became bedridden. The last two years Matthew had really tried his best to get confidence to go over to the tattoo shop to say something nice, but... He never had. So maybe this year was the year he changed? Yeah, that sounded good. His father would be proud if he did. Speaking of which, Matthew hit his hand, running out of his shop and to the side of the building, quickly climbing back up the stairs and going into his flat. He quickly poured a cup of coffee and added cream, and then walked into the hall with the rooms, knocking quietly before walking in. "Père.." Matthew said softly, walking in and opening the blinds. The man in the bed used his arms to pull himself into a sitting up position, looking over at his son.

"Ah, bonjour, Matthieu.." he said through a yawn. Noticing the coffee he smiled and put out his hand. Matthew chuckled and walked over, handing his father his coffee. "What do you say I help you downstairs today?" He offered, sipping his coffee.

Matthew frowned and sat on the bed by his father. "You know the shop is small. You always complain about not being able to manovre well in your wheelchair. Besides you know how hard it is for me to get you down the stairs.." Francis rolled his eyes and continued to fight with his son over helping downstairs. Finally Matthew gave in, just as long as his father only worked behind the counter.

After getting his father dressed, Matthew struggled to get him and a wheelchair down the stairs from the flat. Francis took a deep breath of the air as he was sat down, now mobile. "I haven't been out in so long. The air smells sweet. Must be the flowers." He said with a smile, and Matthew pushed him out of the alley into the shop, and parked his wheelchair behind the counter. Francis took a peek at the calendar and smiled. "Matthieu, it's the twenty-fifth, did you see?" He asked. Matthew nodded as he checked up on a few of his plants. "Why don't you take Gilbert some flowers?"

Matthew felt a small blush creep up his cheeks and he chuckled. "Père.. I'm sure he doesn't want them.." he said as he started to water a plant. Francis shook his head, saying he knew Gilbert very well the three years they worked together before the accident, and that he knew the other would greatly appreciate it. Finally, Matthew gave in so he wouldn't have to hear his father complain anymore. So he grabbed a bouquet of blue and red dahlias, wrapping them up at the bottom as you would roses and tying them with a white ribbon. Francis practically pushed Matthew out the door, as well as he could behind the counter, and the Canadian sighed when he got outside.