poeta nascitur, non fit ~ steven meeks x fem!reader

the events of henley hall~

"Oi, boys," she whispered harshly "fork over some money, and I'll go get Neil a lovely bouquet!" Groans echoed through the group, leaving (y/n) to shake her head. 

"I've only got, like, 2 bucks." Pitts said, handing a wad of change over to the girl's open palm. Charlie gave twenty-five cents the first time, but a glare from (y/n) forced him to hand over another dollar. 

"What? I spent it all on cigs - don't blame me!" She smiled and rolled her eyes, before being given a few more from Cameron, Keating, Meeks, and even Todd.

"Get him something radiant," the infatuated blonde boy whispered in her ear "just like him." When (y/n) exited the row of their seats, she turned back to see Todd blushing profusely, adorable as ever. Her heart swelled with love as she made her way up the stairs and into the foyer, where a small florist had set up a pop-up shop, hoping to sell some flowers to passerby. 

"Hello!" (y/n) greeted cheerfully, her personality dragging a smile from the elder woman who was working. 

"Good evening, dearie," she replied calmly, gesturing to a bast array of dazzling beauties - gifts of the Earth. 

None, however, could even come close to the pride (y/n) felt for her friend, and thus - she had a hard time choosing. Her brows furrowed together, confused. 

"Miss, have you any suggestions?" she asked gently, reaching to stroke a petal of a rose. "Something unique, like my friend. He's playing Puck, you know." The old woman smiled, wrinkles overtaking her rather lovely face. 

"Just the thing!" she snapped once, leading the girl over to the other side of the cart. "These are some of my less popular flowers, since you young folks tend to go for the pretty ones. But these, my girl, these will show your friend how much he means." 

(y/n) examined the flowers, ending up choosing to make up her own bouquet. Her mother was the gardener, the one who knew everything about the meaning of flowers - an art called Ikebana. 

So, she gathered a few stalks of gardenia, purpe irises, and some darling little ferns. She watched, biting her lip to hold back a grin, the older woman tie the bouquet together with twine. The action seemed to cause her pain, and (y/n) imagined the old woman had arthritis from decades of delicate handwork. 

"Thank you," the young girl repeated again and again, giving the florist every dime she had gathered from the boys, earning a smile from the elderly face in front of her. 

"No," the old woman said kindly, "thank you. I hope these flowers bring your friend joy - and please, do feel free to stop by anytime. I own a larger shop on Main street." The girl made promises to return and bring a tea party to the woman, whose name she didn't even know. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Her purchase made, the girl turned around to enter the auditorium once again, hoping Neil didn't step back onto the stage and she missed it.  An older man stood by the door, almost as if he were debating entering to watch or not. Coming up closer, (y/n)'s face flashed with embarrassment and recognition. 

The man, was none other than Mr. Perry, Neil's father. 

The very man, who - the day before - the girl cursed so furiously the idea of speaking to him again made her want to vomit, despite the perfume-y aroma from her flowers. She cleared her throat, putting on her mask. 

Her "mask", being the familiar tilt of her chin, so that - even standing multiple inches shorter than he - she gave off the impression of looking down at him.