The Florist | ✓ (#Wattys2016)

poinsettia

poinsettia

4 months and 26 days before

Christmas washes over Leeds like an epidemic.

Every amber window is filled with deciduous foliage. Glittering baubles and decorations are slung over everything, and every beverage has morphed into its 'seasonal' variant. The air is bitingly cold, but the lights are warm.

Dev and Clara stand outside the door, freezing despite their thick coats and scarves. It's warmer in the hallway outside John Chang's flat than in the cutting winds outside, but their fingertips still feel raw even under their gloves. In Dev's arms, trembling as he shivers, is a semi-healthy poinsettia plant.

The door is flung open, and the smells of hot food spills out with the sound of chatter and festive music.

"DEV!" cries John Chang.

Wrapped around him is his wife, Sofia, and she's grinning just as wide as he is.

"And, er, Clara...?" John says, looking at Dev for some sign of an explanation.

"Yes," Clara smiles as John and Sofia engulf Dev in a tight embrace, crushing the poor plant. "It's so good to finally meet you!"

"It's good to meet you too!" John enthuses, flinging an arm around Clara and guiding them in.

Sofia takes the poinsettia, planting a friendly kiss on Dev's cheek, and she closes the door behind them all.

The party has already warmed up, and guests are milling around the Chang's flat in sparky dresses and festive jumpers. Dean Martin's White Christmas mingles with the chatter of the guests, and a huge table scattered with miscellaneous finger food has been pushed to the centre of the room. A huge, flamboyant tree looms in the corner of the room, decorated haphazardly with random household objects such as phone chargers and toothbrushes.

"We blew our decoration budget," John explains, catching onto Dev's confusion. "But let's move on, because there's something I think you'll be interested to see. Or should I say...someone?"

Dev is instantly consumed by social dread.

"Don't worry, don't worry," John says quickly, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's arm. Then he calls over his shoulder, "ALICE! Get your queer ass over here!"

"John, you can't use queer banter," Alice grumbles, making her way over from the table of food. Then her eyes lock onto Dev, and they light up instantly. "DEV!" she yells, running over to fling her arms around his neck.

Dev's arms wrap tightly around his friend, and he rests his chin on her shoulder. It feels good to have Alice back again.

When she pulls away, Dev grins and says, "It's been a while."

"Shut up," she beams, and then she adds, "Dickhead."

"For the record," John interjects, leaning an elbow on Alice's shoulder, "I can use queer banter because I had sex with a bloke once." He says it like a boast.

"That doesn't count," Alice dismisses. "You only did that so he'd give you an undeservedly merciful grade on your papers."

"And a work placement in a semi-decent hospital, Alice. Medicine is hard."

Dev is still in a state of disbelief that this guy is going to be an actual doctor.

Alice's eyes land Clara, and her smile falters. She looks torn between confusion, anger, and politeness. "I thought you were in Moscow?" Alice. says eventually.