In the Language of the Flowers

Summary and Prologue

Beau had lost everything. His dad when he was five and now his mom at nineteen. His whole life is shattered, and to make matters worse, he doesn't have any place to stay. His uber religious remaining relatives kicked him out because...well, because Beau was gay. 

His happiness and hope slipped through his fingers like sand. He was nothing, insignificant, and couldn't unearth another ounce of strength no matter how deep he dug.

But Beau was so much more than nothing to Ren, an artist struggling in more ways than one. He was the most perfect creature Ren had ever set his eyes on, especially that coppery hair. Ren could feel a desire to paint Beau pulsing through him each time his tired, aching heart beat. 

Copper was the most beautiful muse he'd ever seen, and Ren was going to steal him away and save him from himself...starting by offering him a place to stay.

Is it possible to fall in love with a person because their pain is a reflection of your own? 

This is a story about how love, no matter how imperfect, can save a person.
(Told from both main character's perspectives.)

❦

| Prologue 0.5 |

Vanessa Love Bryant had always loved the ocean. So when she died, I thought it best that she be set free in it. It was a beautiful sunrise, with the sorts of colors that reminded me of a freshly bloomed flower. 

The tide came in, and away she went. A burden lifted off of my shoulders only to be replaced by a new one. And I felt swallowed up by questions as I buried my toes in the sand, letting the ocean batter against my shins. 

How to live now? How to go on? But, perhaps worst of all, heaviest, why? 

What is the point of living if you've got no one left to live for? If you've got nowhere to go and nothing to do? 

I'd felt a creeping ever since mom had gotten sick, like a tingle along my spine. An unwelcome restlessness crawled over me like an invisible spider, lingering at the back of my mind and tinting my thoughts grayish. Something's missing, it whispered to me. But what was it? 

The answers eluded me. So I simply stood and left the beach behind me. I walked past children running from each wave as it crashed on the sand and chased them up the beach. I walked past a couple, strolling together hand in hand. I walked past an old woman, sitting on the abandoned lifeguard stand, alone and lost in quiet thought. But I could muster no interest in any of them.

I walked until I found my answer. 

Why? There wasn't a reason, I realized. And I'd decided. 

| Prologue 1 |

"Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful when you're working?" My hands froze, and I looked up at my present company. 

"Often," I said, smiling. It wasn't a genuine smile, just something to make her more comfortable. She was laid bare in front of me, so I couldn't lose her favor. Not if I wanted to capture her. "But it's not something I pay much mind." 

Her brown eyes widened almost unnoticeably; of course, I noticed...artists' eyes do that. "You don't mind how people see you?" 

I shook my head, turning back to my work and blending, mixing and guiding colors to where they belonged. "Would I be covered in tattoos if I did?" I posed. 

She laughed, a small chuckle that shifted her body ever so slightly. I was almost tempted to go to her, touch her, put her back in place. But I didn't. I just sat on my stool, painting. "But you care about beauty," she said. 

I brought her lips to life, taking down every curve and detail, the way the light reflected off of them. "The whole world cares about beauty." 

"Mm. Beauty and money," she said, in agreement. It was time to paint her eyes, but she looked lazy, disinterested. I couldn't have that. So I stood and approached her, kneeling beside the sofa where she lay stretched out and elegant. 

I smiled at her, reaching out and touching her neck. "Beauty and money," I repeated, then leaned in and kissed her, quiet and wordless. "And sex." 

I stood and returned to my seat, satisfied. Now her eyes were interested. 

❦

Quick trigger warning: there's mention of suicide/self harm, parental abuse/neglect, (briefly) racial issues, and depression in this story. There's nothing graphic, but please keep this in mind if these subjects may affect you seriously. And know that you are loved!

What you need to know: this is an LGBTQ+ story! If that disturbs you for some reason (which it shouldn't) move on! I'm not forcing you to read this, so don't leave any horrid comments, please and thank you! The comments should be a supportive place for people of all identities.

Also important: Yes, Ren has tattoos. No, he is not a 'bad boy.' So if that's what you're looking for, move along.Yes, this story is a slow burn. It's a story about finding another, finding yourself, and finding something beyond it all. Whether that be love or something else, who knows?

Beauty, emotion, art, life. And, yes, falling in love despite the world. 

(Additionally, if there's anyone here who genuinely speaks either French or Japanese, I apologize ahead of time. I had to rely on the internet for translation because I don't speak either of these languages and my characters do. Feel free to correct me on anything; it'd be helpful!)