A Man who delivers flowers vs. A homebody who gets a delivery on Valentine's Day
#fluff #sweet #unlikelyfriendship #friendstolovers #valentinesday
February 14th, 1:37pm
Valentine's day is Antwan's favorite day of the year. Orders come flooding in, the tips are magnificent, and the extra money makes his boss less nitpicky than usual.
Other than that, Valentine's day is the worst. Because Antwan was single. And all the extra orders were the worst reminder.
As a flower delivery man, Antwan saw three types of people every day. Women gushing to receive a gift from their partners, families mourning over lost loved ones, and receptionists accepting flowers that just had to be delivered to a corporate building. It was monotonous and tiring. Antwan's feet ached from so much walking. His fingers were constantly blistered from thorns and damp flower stems.
Yet the best and worst part of his day was when he placed a bouquet directly into someone else's hands. There was always a moment of confusion–people who receive flowers usually don't expect them. Then shock. And finally, the joy. Antwan was painfully single. Has been for too long to count. But he enjoyed giving flowers to lovers. There was a special expression that came over someone's face when they got such a timeless expression of love.
Antwan anticipated that same reaction as he jogged up to this next house. He'd sneaked a glance at the message tucked into the flowers before getting out of the truck.
You are beautiful. You are incredible. You are loved.
The phrasing was incredibly romantic. Just another example of people getting more poetic with the messages these days. But in this economy, buying flowers was a sure fire way to find all the hopeless romantics.
Whoever lived in this small gray house wasn't quick about answering the door. Dark brown fingers fiddled with the buttons on his all black jumpsuit as he waited. It was the standard work uniform. The silver rings and matching studs were the only customization he got away with.
Finally, a young man opened the door. He looked Indian, or at least South Asian. A strong jaw, full lips, and large dark eyes caught Antwan's attention. Then he saw the stray hairs tugged out from his man bun, the faded band t-shirt (Nirvana?), and the complementary pajama pants. He was handsome, tired, and caught completely off guard.
"Flower delivery, sir," Antwan recited robotically. He handed the shorter man the bouquet. Steps 1 and 2 complete, just like usual.
But something went wrong. The confusion came first, like it always does. But there was no shock.
No joy.
In an instant, the young man's face scrunched up. Thick brows drew together, almost as if he were in pain. He gripped the bouquet tightly between smooth, unblemished hands. Antwan's curiosity spiked.
Who was the woman who got him the flowers and how did she get him this upset? No, it was a man. A man got him these flowers.
If Antwan looked past the guy's bare, brown feet and snoopy pants, he could see gay men's pride flags sticking out the flower pots.
The young man trailed a finger over the flower petals, sighing heavily. It was like he forgot Antwan was even there. He was just frowning at those flowers, mouth turned all the way upside down.
"I'm sorry, sir. Are you okay?" Antwan asked. When the man made eye contact with him for the second time that day, he regretted asking. Those dark eyes were too honest, too sad. The stare made him uneasy and Antwan scratched underneath his locs awkwardly.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Antwan grabbed his clipboard, ready to get down a signature. With a simple scribble, he'd be free to leave this strained interaction.
Antwan took a step back. His delivery was complete, he could leave anytime he wanted. But the expression on the shorter man's face made him pause. His customer dragged one of those full lips in between his teeth, eyes clouded.
"I just feel stupid."
In a dramatic turn of events, he tossed the flowers on the floor. Antwan could see the red and white columbines wilting from the impact. His hands twitched to do something—those flowers aren't cheap. But more importantly, the cute brown boy was pushing both hands deep in his hair, staring at those flowers with conflicted eyes.
"You know, whoever got you these flowers seems to really love you," Antwan said.
"That's the problem," the shorter man groaned, his voice cracking. "I got them."
Antwan's mouth dropped open. Oh.
In the face of the shocked delivery man, the man who bought his own flowers started laughing. It revealed his gummy smile, bright and full in an innocent kind of way. But the laughter didn't sound happy and Antwan was more confused.
"It was in this self-help book about increasing confidence or something," he explained with an eye roll. "But now I just feel more alone because of course they came late, on Valentine's day."
The laughter the shorter man had been able to muster disappeared. Antwan had no idea what to say. Smiling women and indifferent receptionists felt like worlds away. He couldn't see past this lonely guy, tearing up at the flowers he bought himself.
"I'm sorry for making you come all the way here for nothing," the man shrugged. Then he leaned against his doorway, peering up at Antwan with slightly damp lashes and the smallest of smiles. Before he knew it, Antwan was picking up those flowers. The only pen he had was connected to a clipboard but the wire was long enough. Antwan opened up the little note and scribbled down a couple things.
"I don't think it was for nothing," Antwan told him. He handed the shorter man the bouquet for a second time, watching those dark eyes scan the new words.
You are beautiful. You are incredible. You are loved.
-From Antwan
"It seems like you got a secret admirer," he winked. "Have a good day, sir."
The poor guy's eyes went wide. The whole time Antwan walked back to his truck, he could feel the other's man stare, narrowly focused on his back. Maybe the wink was too excessive. But Antwan couldn't bear to see a cute guy like that sad on Valentine's day.
When Antwan was climbing into that truck and well out of ear, the lonely man finally whispered back "You too."
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February 21st, 1:28pm
Valentine's day was over and Tim was as grouchy as usual. That's why he immediately noticed Antwan's Timberlands. Shoes that did not fit the strict work uniform requirements of a flower company. 5 minutes of "professional discourse" later and Antwan got to keep the shoes. Just for today.
Although he played dumb to the best of his abilities, he and Tim both knew that Antwan didn't forget. The secret was why. Why did Antwan break the dress code for the first time in months? Well, Tim didn't recognize the address associated with the 1:30 delivery. But Antwan did.
After seeing the schedule a few days ago, Antwan brought his best shoes. That cute brown guy probably didn't give a shit about what the delivery man wore. But Antwan felt sexy in his Timberlands. Professionalism be damned, he was going to wear them.
The suede shoes clicked satisfyingly on the pavement as he walked up with the small bouquet. It was smaller than the one from last week. But still red and white. The note was the same too: You are beautiful. You are incredible. You are loved.
Three knocks on the door was all it took. Before the fourth, the door to the small gray house swung open and the cute brown guy emerged. His wavy black hair hung loose, just grazing his shoulders. His face was bright and flushed with color.
He looked happier. He looked straight into Antwan's eyes when he smiled.
"Hey," the shorter man said breathily.
"Hi," Antwan replied. Antwan didn't know what would have happened if he forgot about the flowers in his hand. With how impulsive he was last time, Antwan could have said anything. But he did remember. With his typical apathetic professionalism, Antwan handed off the bouquet.
"I'm guessing you decided to keep up with the, uh, practice," Antwan commented.
"Yeah." Drawing the flowers into his chest, the shorter man glanced away, shyly. "It wasn't so bad the first time."
Oh
It wasn't bad because of Antwan. He made it a good valentine's day. If not for his dark, brown skin, Antwan would have blushed.
"Thank you for that, by the way," the brown man added on. "It made last Wednesday more bearable."
"You're welcome."
Those two words could have been enough, a natural end to the conversation. But Antwan didn't take the opportunity. He wanted to know more about this man and his self-gifted flowers.
"I'm Antwan, by the way."
"I thought so after the note," the shorter man chuckled. Right, Antwan was the genius who wrote his name on a customer's expensive order. Made sense for that customer to remember. "My name's Sunny. Technically Sundar but Sunny's fine."
"Sundar," Antwan echoed. When Sunny said his full name, a distinct accent came out. His voice grew deeper and his tongue curled up at the last R. The singular word was highlighted in Antwan's mind, like he suddenly started singing in the middle of his sentence. The sound of it was beautiful.
Antwan wanted Sunny to say it again. Or say anything in the language that made his voice become so melodic. He settled for a more appropriate request.
"What does it mean?"
Sunny had been toying with the paper wrapped around the flowers. His movements stalled at the question and he bit down on his bottom lip.
"Beautiful and good I think," Sunny muttered, as if hoping Antwan wouldn't hear it. "But most people in India don't even think about it anymore."
"Beautiful," Antwan hummed thoughtfully. Their eyes met and Antwan smirked. "It suits you."
Shit.
Antwan didn't mean for that to sound so flirty. But Sunny's mouth just popped open in surprise and Antwan was struggling to figure out how to play it off. It wasn't really flirting. Antwan genuinely thought that Sunny was a very beautiful man. His parents did a good job picking a name that suited him.
But his black jumpsuit and the truck parked on the curb indicated that he was here in a professional capacity. He shouldn't even be having this conversation. If Tim found out Antwan was going around telling customers that they're beautiful, he could say goodbye to his 9-5.
He wanted to change the subject, but words suddenly evaded him. And Sunny wasn't saying anything either. He had his beautiful lips sealed tight, staring intently at his welcome mat instead of the man standing on it. Sunny started playing with the paper encasing the flower stems again, catching Antwan's attention. Words came easily when he thought of plants instead of really attractive men.
"You know, since you bought them as a positive thing, you might want to consider changing the flowers."
"What's wrong with my flowers?"
The shorter man's face dropped as he peered down at the white willows. His expression switched from hesitant excitement to total unconfidence. The rapid change made Antwan panic.
"Nothing's wrong, really," he rushed out, stepping forward unconsciously. "It's just that those pink flowers represent danger ahead and willow flowers represent sadness."
"Sounds a lot like my life so far," Sunny joked tiredly, wearing a wry smile. Antwan laughed along, the movement making his shirt brush the bouquet in Sunny's hands.
With Antwan so close, Sunny had to lift his chin up to look the black man in the eye. The action accentuated his dark eyes and the long lashes that framed them. Antwan clenched his fists at his sides before he did something stupid.
"Sorry, that wasn't really important," the black man apologized, laughing in a self-deprecating way. "They just have it on the company website and I got curious so..."
"It's alright. I appreciate the tip."
A gust of wind swept past, causing goosebumps to emerge all over Antwan's arms. It became all too clear how long he'd spent standing out here with Sunny. Sunny must have thought the same because he winced.
"Sorry! I'm keeping you from your job! Um-"
Sunny looked from Antwan to his 'sad flowers.'
"Do you have any recommendations for next time?"
Antwan's brain held onto the 'next time.' He'd only seen this man twice and was already excited to think there could be a third. Since he looked at plants all day, their meanings flew through his mind with ease. Sunny's flowers shouldn't be a plain expression of love. The bouquets he bought represented so much more. So, they should be more hopeful, like the man who bought them.
"How about white roses?" he suggested. "For new beginnings."
"New beginnings," Sunny repeated with a smile. "I like that."
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April 3rd, 1:41pm
February and March rolled by in a blur. Antwan was still delivering flowers. Bored receptionists were still picking them up. But now he counted the passage of time by how many flowers he delivered to Sunny. His weeks felt more colorful that way.
Sunny started wearing shoes when he came to get his flowers. He would step out of his house and they'd lean against the wall for a while, talking about the most random things. Antwan never told Sunny, but he started rearranging his delivery schedule to make this fit. To make sure there was enough time.
Enough time for him to hear what project Sunny was struggling with at work. Enough time for Antwan to add something to the affirmations that came with the bouquet.
Most days, what Antwan added was cheesier than the initial words:
You are beautiful. You are incredible. You are loved and a really good listener
You are beautiful. You are incredible. You are loved. You also look really good in turtlenecks.
You are beautiful. You are incredible. You are loved by me.
The last one just stayed as a 'mental draft.' Antwan had wanted to do it more times than he could count. But he never managed to actually write it down. It had taken a couple weeks to get over the awkwardness of Antwan's initial flirty compliments. Antwan didn't say vaguely sexual things anymore and Sunny was less shocked in his presence. But the word love could be misunderstood. Best to avoid it all together.
The flowers this week were Angelicas (representing inspiration) and Sunny thumbed the flat bundles unconsciously. He seemed pensive, thick brows furrowed with determined concentration.
A few weeks ago, Antwan mentioned that he wore contacts, so Sunny begged him to bring his glasses. When he wore them on his next visit, Sunny couldn't stop staring. So Antwan kept wearing them.
With his glasses, Antwan could see the shifts in the other man's expressions better than ever. And since Sunny was thinking so hard, there was plenty to see. Silence stretched on between them but Antwan was content to watch the expressive man beside him. That's why Antwan almost jumped when Sunny's bright eyes caught his.
"So, you spend all this time delivering other people's flowers," Sunny started, gesturing to those in his hands. "But have you ever bought any yourself?"
"I've never thought of buying myself flowers before I met you."
Sunny laughed. It was a hearty sound, almost as melodic as his voice when he spoke in Hindi.
"No, I mean if you bought it for your . . . special person."
Sunny's absent tinkering with the flowers stopped and he looked Antwan head on.
His small question didn't seem so small anymore. What did Sunny hope he would say? Antwan had been single for too long. But right now, his lack of experience felt detrimental. Maybe if he dated more, he would know why Sunny seemed so expectant.
"No," he whispered, his smile growing tight. "There's no one."
"Oh."
Maybe Antwan being single was shocking. Because when he told him, Sunny's hands went limp and the Angelica bouquet fell through his fingers. Antwan crouched down to grab it but Sunny was on the ground with him, trying to do the same. The black man reached out to grab them but his hand froze midair.
Sunny's face was so close. Antwan had always loved his eyes. Dark and round and alive with emotion. But this close he could see the orange and green hiding inside the irises. He could track their movement going from Antwan's left eye to his right, down to his lips. Without thinking, Antwan glanced down at Sunny's mouth in return. It was slightly chapped and parted, small exhales escaping and warming the skin on Antwan's cheeks.
A flash of movement caught Antwan's attention. His glasses had slipped down his nose bridge, balanced precariously on his cheeks. Sunny reached for them. Antwan flinched.
He knew that Sunny was just trying to fix his glasses. But Antwan was too aware. Everything Sunny did burned into his mind. Every smile warmed his soul. Every shared look kept him up at night. So, no, Sunny couldn't touch him. Because if he did, Antwan might do something crazy. Crazier than writing the word 'love' on some flowers.
With his touch rejected, Sunny slowly retracted his hand.
"I'm sorry," Sunny whispered.
That's when Antwan saw it. The shame.
Sunny shot up.
With flowers in hand, he reached for his door. By the time Antwan got up, Sunny was standing inside his home again, gripping the doorway tightly.
The brown man's smile had disappeared. For weeks, he'd given Antwan nothing but smiles, a true testament to his nickname. But that smile was gone. All of the sun beaming down that Wednesday afternoon was futile against the chill that came over Antwan's body. The only sun he needed wasn't shining anymore.
"Thanks for bringing these flowers, Antwan," Sunny clutched the bouquet to his chest, the plastic crinkling from the pressure. "But I don't think I'll be ordering any more."
Antwan watched helplessly when Sunny slammed the door in his face.
——————————
May 1st, 1:43pm
Antwan braced himself for the hardest part of his route. His truck came to a slow, drawn-out stop but Antwan didn't move. He was delivering to a familiar, small, gray house. It still had rainbow flags shoved into pots, standing next to flowers like they belonged there. Behind his dread, a sliver of excitement shone. It refused to die no matter how much Antwan told it the truth. It's over. Those blissful weeks of work were long gone. When Antwan walked this next bouquet up to that front door, he'd never get to see who lived inside.
After Sunny's confusing words almost a month ago, Antwan thought that would be the last time he stood outside the man's house. No flowers meant Antwan had no good reason to be around him. The delivery excuse was thin at best but it was all Antwan had.
Then, the following week came and–like clockwork–Antwan got a new order with Sunny's address. He remembers how excited he was, thinking that Sunny had changed his mind. Thinking that he'd done the right thing and put that awkward moment behind them.
Antwan had stood outside Sunny's door for almost ten minutes. Ringing the doorbell. Waiting.
Sunny works from home. He ordered these damn flowers. He has to be inside.
But he never showed up and Antwan realized something heartbreaking. Sunny did want the flowers. He just didn't want him.
The black man's sneakers smacked noisily against the pavement as he walked toward the house. Antwan got the message. He heard Sunny loud and clear. But foolishly, he hoped that things could change. Maybe if his delivery took enough time, Sunny would come out. Maybe, he could apologize or compliment him or do whatever it took to get the man back in his life.
That's why he still rearranged his delivery route despite not seeing Sunny's face for weeks. It was a waste of gas and incredibly inefficient. And someday, his boss might notice the discrepancy in his logs. For now, it renewed that trickle of hope that always lingered in the back of Antwan's mind.
His ceaseless hope and pining was crazy. But Antwan knew what he felt for Sunny had gone beyond friendship a long time ago. The attraction he had for the shorter man didn't match up with how little time they spent together. But time after time, his thoughts circled back to the brown man. I wonder if he's seen this new Netflix show. That shirt would look good on him. Has he tried Jollof rice yet? Antwan didn't realize how much of his life he wanted to share with Sunny until he couldn't share any of it.
And even though, late at night, he imagined tangling his fingers through Sunny's curls and pulling him in for a kiss, he would take things slow. Even if his dirtiest dreams only starred one gorgeous tech nerd these days, he could wait. If Sunny was freaked out because he thought Antwan would kiss him, Antwan would promise to be the most respectful, non-handsy, gentlemanly date he's ever had.
But since that day on his porch, Antwan had replayed their last moment in his head over and over. That tension he felt that day could not have been one-sided. Even if Sunny's answer was a flat out "no", Antwan wanted him to say that. He needed the closure.
A few minutes later, the delivery man placed the flowers on the ground. Sunny was a no-show and Antwan was technically working. He'd have to come again some other day and experience this emotional conflict all over again.
Some movement from the corner of his vision made Antwan pause. He turned, saw a flash of brown skin and dark hair, then nothing. The drapes fell back as if they'd never been pushed aside in the first place. But Antwan knew what he saw.
Sunny was . . . watching him.
All this time, Antwan just wanted to see him, if only for a second. But Sunny was stealing all these looks anyway? Antwan's eyes narrowed. That's cheating.
Fists clenched at his sides, Antwan marched up to the window. It was still for a few seconds, an even sway to the white drapes. Then he saw a flutter before the bottom corner lifted. A single eye looked out and the visible portion of Sunny's face became bright with mortification. The drape fell back down.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Antwan knocked against the window.
"Sunny!"
There was no sign of movement this time, just that even swaying of the drapes.
"Sunny, if you can hear me-" Antwan paused, thoughtful eyes on the ground. "If you can hear me, then you should know I- I'm really mad at you."
Antwan cursed under his breath–he shouldn't have said that.
"The truth is: I'm mad because you spent weeks nestling yourself into my mind, and my routine, and my life only to take it all away. I feel cheated, honestly, because I wanted more of you."
Antwan heard his heart thumping in his ears. He imagined Sundar sitting behind the window, breath elevated as he listened. He couldn't guess if he'd look conflicted or annoyed. Still, Antwan prayed Sundar missed him, even a little.
"I was going to ask you out, you know. The following week. I was going to bring your order with something I made and- anyways, I understand if you're not interested. But can you please say that to my face!"
With his words echoing in his mind, Antwan looked at the window again. The drapes had stiled. And the door wasn't open. All of that, Antwan's big confession, might have been said to a piece of glass.
That's when Sunny opened the door.
His wavy hair was shorter now, hanging just past his ears. Today's band t-shirt was tighter than usual and Antwan hungrily soaked in Sunny's silhouette. From below his plaid pajama pants, Sunny's toes peaked out. Seeing them made Antwan a little nostalgic, remembering the first time they met. The entire time that Antwan took him in, Sunny stayed silent, his eyes never wavering from Antwan's face. He looked determined.
Anticipating what was to come, Antwan stepped in front of him, meeting Sunny's gaze head on.
Then his gaze went down and Antwan realized that his bouquet was still on the floor. Bracing his hand against the doorway, Sunny knelt down. His movements were slow and his eyes never left Antwan's. Every muscle in the taller man's body remained tense until Sunny finally stood up again. Even when he was seconds from being rejected, Antwan's body called for Sundar like nothing else.
The reminder cooled him down and the black man clenched his jaw.
"Did you come out here to reject me?"
Sunny pressed his teeth into his bottom lip and Antwan's eyes flew to his mouth immediately. After not seeing him for 3 weeks, everything he did was too much and not enough at the same time. He had to close his eyes and take a breath before he could look at Sunny again.
"Do you know what these flowers are?" the shorter man asked, caressing the flowers with the back of his hand.
"Of course, Lilac's for first love," Antwan replied. He hesitated before finally saying what had come to mind when Sundar ordered them the first time. "They're a nice choice for you."
"They're not for me," Sunny wore a shy smile, his hands tightening around the stems. "They haven't been for me for the past 3 weeks."
With a sudden move, Sunny gave Antwan the flowers.
"I've been meaning to apologize for making you uncomfortable last month. At first, I stopped taking the flowers by-hand because I thought you would be more comfortable. But then I thought that if I didn't tell you how I feel then I'd regret it for the rest of my life so I started ordering the lilacs."
Sunny stopped talking with a gasp, giving Antwan a chance to say something. But the other man was just staring, face unreadable.
"Antwan, I'm sorry. I was supposed to do this when I was all dressed and using that eyeliner trick you suggested but I chickened out every single time because I didn't know how you'd react-"
"Can I kiss you?"
"What?" Sunny blurted out.
Finally, he noticed the way Antwan's muscles strained against his clothes, like he was barely holding himself back. The spike of desire that shot up Sundar's stomach nearly made him speechless. So his answer was simple.
"Yes."
Antwan surged forward, meeting Sunny halfway. He closed his eyes and finally, he pressed his lips against Sunny's. It was relief like nothing he'd ever felt. Antwan tossed the flowers haphazardly into the house. He wanted to touch Sunny with everything he had. Hesitantly, he placed his hands on either side of Sunny's face, dragging the man even closer. He felt Sundar slowly slide his hands down Antwan's stomach, around his sides, before tightly gripping the back of his work uniform. Antwan's entire body shuddered from the touch, melting further into Sunny.
After a minute, the kisses became more frantic. The space between them disappeared. Sunny's hands tightened, pulling Antwan's shirt taut.
Sundar pulled back slightly, but Antwan chased him, replacing his long deep kisses with pecks instead.
"I want-" Sunny began, another kiss interrupting him. "I want you."
"I want you too," Antwan muttered, lips stretching out into a slow smile.
"No, I mean-" Sunny cut himself off, more focused on diving out of reach from Antwan's addictive kisses. For a moment, he got distracted, staring up warmly at the other man. He spent a month depriving himself from this. Not anymore, he'd enjoy as much as he can.
"Ugh, you're so cute," Sunny went back in, humming playfully. He managed to pull back one more time, speaking against Antwan's mouth. "I want you to come inside."
"Is now a good time for you?" Antwan asked. Before Sunny could respond, the taller man was walking him into his own house. The two giggled when they narrowly avoided the flowers Antwan threw just inside the door.
"Don't you have work?" Sundar laughed, completely bewildered.
"Cough cough. I'm sick," Antwan drawled. "I need a beautiful man to take care of me."
With a mouth fully engaged, Antwan slammed the door shut.
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And that's the end of Special Delivery! I hope you guys enjoyed this short but sweet story about these cuties.
It was surprisingly challenging to write this at times but I mainly blamed that on the fact that University has been ANNOYING recently.
Anywho,
Check out my other books if you haven't! Some of them were written a WHILE ago but they're all complete BL novels! I'll see you next time! Bye!