#edit: oh i wait i drew a really stupid comic a few days ago in ms paint but this is the first Proper Polished Drawing i've made in 10 days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ouma--kokichis · 7 years

Text

花言葉 / A flower's meaning

Word count: 4206

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

H-hello it was me all along!! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و I got really inspired by the saiou comic you drew a while ago, and decided to borrowed your hc that Saihara is bad at waking up early until he starts living together with Ouma.

I felt terribly clumsy writing this (I don’t have a beta reader so I’m sorry if its riddled with mistakes) and Ouma might be a bit ooc but once the idea formed I couldn’t let it go anymore. I really want to say thank you for blessing the fandom with your wonderful art ;w; so I hope it’ll at least make you smile a little bit!

EDIT by ALSIUSHAKU---

Link to the story on Ao3 is HERE! please send kudos/comments for the author there!

Thank you so much for this!!! omg!! I had to draw a “cover” image for this so here you are (They are wearing the school uniforms cause...uhm... >///<)

It had been about a week since Saihara had agreed to share a room with Ouma. The flat was rather large and comfortable, the rent was affordable thanks to some mysterious connection to the landlord Ouma didn’t want to tell him about in detail, both of their universities were easy to reach and… Saihara had been incredibly reluctant to move in. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to live together with Ouma, quite the opposite actually. During their last year at Hope’s peak they’d grown close, so close that Ouma would occasionally refer to him as his boyfriend, but maybe that was exactly what had made him hesitate. Was he really ready to take their relationship to the next stage? And even worse, bring all of his bad habits into a new household?

He had ended up agreeing anyway, unable to refuse Ouma’s bright smile and the way his eyes lit up whenever they talked about a domestic lifestyle. And their first days spent together were also just like Ouma had imagined them to be.

They helped each other with unpacking, teaching each other how to cook simple meals (although Saihara couldn’t help his heart rate shooting up dangerously high whenever Ouma was handling a knife), and staying up late watching crime shows while snuggling up together on the couch until one of them dragged the other off to bed. It was more than Saihara had even hoped for. This shared lifestyle was almost perfect. Too perfect to be true.

When classes started again, the change Saihara had dreaded was about to happen. Their schedules required a bit of effort to work together, with Saihara’s lessons usually starting in the mornings whereas Ouma’s would usually be in the afternoon, and too soon Saihara became unable to keep up with his roommate. Of course it was entirely his fault. He and his stupid habit of trying to get as much sleep as possible out of a morning was what made him trip up from the beginning. The feared pattern he was all too familiar with.

On the first day of early lessons, Saihara woke up 30 minutes before class.

He had barely enough time to change clothes and grab his bag to stumble out of the door when a voice resounded behind him.

“Uhm…? Saihara-chan? Good morning?”

“O-Ouma-kun?!” Saihara almost fell over, trying to put on his shoes and turn around to face the shorter boy at the same time. A wretched feeling settled in his gut. Had he…?

“Hmm, seems like you’ve already forgotten that I live here too?” Ouma tapped his chin thoughtfully as if he’d just read his mind. Visibly he didn’t seem upset, but there was a distinct lack of cheerfulness around him that made Saihara gulp. A bead of sweat made its way down his neck.

“I,… I know that! I’m sorry, I just… woke up really late and now I have to hurry or else I’ll be late for class,” he tripped over his words, already sure that this halfhearted excuse wouldn’t be nearly enough to please him. The fact that he had ignored, or maybe even worse, forgotten about Ouma was very much present to both of them.

“I’ll— make up to it, I promise!” Saihara’s uneasy smile bounced right off of Ouma’s unreadable mask. Without another word, he grabbed his hat in hopes it would cover his shame and stormed out of their shared flat.

Oversleeping was entirely his fault. His stupid habit was entirely his fault. A small part of Saihara wished Ouma would’ve woken him up for class and he felt disgusted with himself for trying to put the blame on anyone but himself. Ouma always got up early, sometimes even too early whenever he heard him move the covers of their shared bed at 4 am, but he had always been patient with Saihara, letting him rest and get up when he felt like. Sometimes Ouma even prepared breakfast for both of them which had Saihara feel guilty until Ouma assigned him to cooking dinner and doing the dishes, a role distribution which made both of them smile every time they saw the other working for their behalf. It was good and balanced and ideal, enough to dissolve the worries Saihara had had about living together with someone and now he had just gone and ruined it. In a span of a single morning.

During class, Saihara found it impossible to pay attention to the subject, his mind always wandering off to Ouma, what the other was doing, what he was thinking about, and of course how to make up for it, how he’d said so boldly. Was there even a way to appease him?

When he finally returned home, he was still empty handed safe for a heavy heart. His key turned to unlock the door and stepping inside the apartment, he was greeted with soft light and TV noise in the background. Ouma was nowhere to be seen but he still called out a weak “I’m home” while putting away his shoes. To his surprise, a purple shock of hair peaked out from behind the sofa as soon as he entered the living area.

“Saihara-chan, welcome home!” A smile followed before Ouma returned his attention back to the TV. “Your breakfast is in the fridge.”

A chill ran through his body. There was a false sense of security in the air and Saihara’s gut immediately told him to run. Of course that would just worsen the whole situation. Even if Ouma feigned ignorance right now, he could still feel his eyes on him with every move he made. Was there even a way out in this scenario? He slowly turned to the fridge. There was no way Ouma could be this upset about a small mistake like that, right? Except that this wasn’t small and… Had Ouma just said breakfast? Wait, so this morning, had he made breakfast for both of them just to have Saihara storm out of the apartment without a word of thanks? It couldn’t be…

Shakily he opened the fridge, to find a plate with omurice preserved with plastic wrap around it. There was a big ‘S’ written on it with ketchup and next to it, a few hearts. There was no way he’d be able to eat this. Ouma had made this for him and in return, he had completely ignored him. While he had been able to push away the guilt for most of his day, rather thinking about how to make up, now his own failure was shoved so directly into his face that it almost felt like it was consuming him. A small part of Saihara wanted to throw himself on the floor to bow down in front of Ouma and apologize, but the logical part of his brain reminded him that knowing Ouma, following his directions would be the best action. And that meant eating his omelet rice.

Saihara sat down at the small table of the shared living space and removed the plastic wrap. Ouma was still slumped on the sofa, his back to him.

“Thank you for the meal.” He couldn’t keep the wavering out of his voice. Ouma just hummed in response so he gingerly cut off a piece and put it in his mouth. The food was slightly too cold which was expected, but otherwise had a pleasant taste, as always. It just made things worse. This was certainly not a hastily thrown together meal, showing how upset Ouma was. It was a guilty reminder of how much he cared for him and how little Saihara was able to reproduce these feelings properly.

“Ouma-kun, about this morning…”Trying to choose his words carefully, he went in to scoop up another bite when…

Underneath the sheet of fluffy scrambled egg there was…

… nothing?

Saihara moved more of the egg to the side. No rice?!

The omelet had been completely hollowed out safe for the sides to keep its shape. Baffled, Saihara stared at his deconstructed dinner. Was this… Ouma’s idea of revenge? He couldn’t deny that it was working. There was a pang in his chest, adding to the heavy weight of his guilt. Getting so worked up about the feelings conveyed through omurice just increased his disappointment now. Not that he didn’t deserve every last of those spiteful feelings. Ouma’s signature giggling was ringing in his head and he took another bite shamefully. Only to find something with an extremely unfamiliar texture in his food. Just what—? Did Ouma actually want him to die? Was he that upset?

Once he removed the strange component and laid it back on the plate, he found it to be a delicate flower stem adorned with small purplish blue blossoms.

“Ouma-kun, what is this…?” he stammered.

“Oh, this?” Said boy turned around and looked at him from over the back of the couch. A malicious grin stretched over his lips before he went back to regarding his fingernails in disinterest. “I tried out some new seasoning. I thought you might like it.”

What a blatant lie.

“You’ll do the dishes right? I’m kinda tired so I’ll take a bath and then head to bed.”

As announced, Ouma stood up with a yawn, turned off the TV and then disappeared into the bathroom. Saihara was left with a measly rest of rice and scrambled egg that was probably poisoned by this strange flower, and the emptiest he had ever felt.

It had gotten pretty late until Saihara finally went to bed. After the dinner disaster he had made himself some instant noodles and moped in front of the TV to waste time, and when he wanted to take a bath he had to find out that the water had already been drained from the tub. Cruel. But apparently, he deserved this. No, not just apparently. It was probably just a fraction of disappointment Ouma had felt this morning. Being pranked by him wasn’t news, but it usually made both of them laugh, except neither Saihara nor Ouma were laughing now. In fact Saihara was miles away from just cracking a smile, the space between them on their shared bed feeling abysmal. He hadn’t even managed to properly apologize today.

A sharp beam of sunlight caused Saihara to blink himself awake. Once his consciousness started to rouse, yesterday’s events hit him like a truck and he scrambled into an upright position.

Wait. He didn’t have morning class today, did he? And this wasn’t some time loop he got himself stuck in just so he could go back and fix his mistake?

Saihara groaned. This was irrational and he knew it, and yet some part of him needed to check the phone next to his bed just to make sure today’s date was a different one. After all, his luck wasn’t that great to grant him a second chance. He was about to reach out when the pads of his fingers brushed against something…

“Uwaah—!” He hastily shook his hand in panic, and a blurry blue object dropped from his palm to the floor. What in the world…? A bug? Some lint he had stuck on his hands for some reason? A death trap set up by Ouma?

He took a deep breath and decided to investigate. Underneath his bed laid…

A small flower with purplish blue blossoms. Somehow it looked familiar. Memories from yesterday’s disasterous dinner filled his head involuntarily. There was no doubt that this was Ouma’s doing, but why? Maybe it was poisonous after all? Saihara shook his head violently. Ouma wanting to kill him was already a bit farfetched, and if he really did, there would be a lot more efficient ways. And yet, this little stem had appeared again.

The more he looked at the flower, the more it seemed to wilt before his eyes. Guilt seeped into the pit of his stomach again when he thought about this small flower, Ouma’s flower, die just because of him. Saihara left the bedroom to get a glass of water as a substitute for a vase, just to discover a note from his roommate, saying he’d gone out to run some errands. Today, there was no breakfast waiting for him.

The next few days passed in a similar manner. He and Ouma barely met during the day and when they did, only a few words were exchanged. They still cooked meals for each other occasionally but even at night, they stayed distant from each other.

The only change were the flowers. The makeshift vase next to Saihara’s bedside now held four small stems in bloom, each from a morning he’d woken up and miraculously found one in his palm. Or that one time in his hair which he hadn’t noticed until someone at university pointed it out to him. On one occasion he’d actually woken up and found himself covered in small blue petals additionally to the one in his hand. He hadn’t been able to save any of the tiny blossoms and felt a little extra sad that day.

Until now, neither Saihara nor Ouma had spoken a word about this weird ritual. The flowers were just kind of there and Saihara would be lying if he wasn’t somehow looking forward to finding another one, like he was picking up bread crumbs on a trail that would hopefully lead him back to Ouma. He knew who put them there, and with the lack of interaction between them, the flowers felt like the only connection they shared. In a weird way, they even reminded him of Ouma. Fragile and small by the looks of it, but the stems were quite sturdy. And despite being a bit plain and unnoticeable compared to other flowers, there was a hidden beauty only someone with an eye for detail could appreciate.

Lost in his own thoughts, Saihara didn’t hear the door open while preparing dinner. Soft-footed steps barely announced his arrival and Saihara was surprised when two arms wrapped around his midsection.

“I’m home, Saihara-chan.”

Ouma’s breath was warm through his shirt. It felt like ages since they had touched in any way and he couldn’t help but smile. Saihara put the knife down that he was previously chopping vegetables with.

“Welcome home.”

The embrace was tight enough to make it unable for him to turn around, as much as he would have liked to face Ouma. Instead he was confronted with his own thoughts. The hug was the most sincere interaction they’d had in a while, so maybe he should…

“U-uhm, the… the flowers?”

He felt Ouma sigh while burying his face into his back, but Saihara was unable to tell if it was out of relief or annoyance.

“Did you understand their meaning?”

Meaning? Saihara tensed. Of course there was a meaning. How could he have been so caught up marveling at their sheer presence that he forgot to look for a deeper sense? Ouma had left them there for him to… to…

As a means to communicate with him? To guilt trip him? Or maybe this was just a red herring?

“If you don’t know, maybe you should just look it up.” Ouma’s grip loosened slightly and Saihara already prepared for the emptiness to hit him the moment he would let go.

Look up the meaning of the flowers, why had he been so stupid as to not do that before? Had he just assumed those were ordinary flowers Ouma found at the side of the street? Truth be told, he hadn’t thought about the why and where at all. The flowers reminded him of Ouma and that’s where his train of thought had ended, in a pile of unresolved guilt. Of course he couldn’t just blurt that out. It would only make him seem like a fool and the purple haired already knew that much.

“Could you at least tell me the name?”

Ouma chuckled, sending vibrations down his back. “Eehh, but I don’t want to? Besides, that would ruin the fun. You’re the detective here, aren’t you?”

It had been worth a try. The only comfort was that Ouma seemed to be in a fairly good mood even after their conversation. Saihara decided to research the flower later, not wanting to be caught and embarrassed by his roommate with wild guesses.

Finding out a flower when you didn’t even knew its name proved to be more difficult than expected. Saihara had kind of wished to mull over some books in the library instead of typing various key words into a search engine but in the end, he managed to find out both the name and association.

He stared at the computer screen in disbelief, checking again if the flower in his hands matched the picture but there was no doubt. Even though this plant was commonly found in Europe, there it was, a small bouquet right in front of him. This had been Ouma’s true intention? His newfound knowledge produced a giddy feeling from deep within him that left him unable to sit still for another second. There was an anxious mess in his head and his throat felt tied. He wanted, no, needed to wake up Ouma right away and confront him.

Saihara’s chair clattered to the floor as he rushed to the bedroom door. One last deep breath and…

“Ouma-kun, I—!“

The sleeping form on the bed was only illuminated by a dim streetlamp outside. Purple hair framed his peaceful face, a look devoid of all worries on his features. Saihara’s throat felt dry. Suddenly he was unable to produce a single sound, the electrical current he had been feeling seconds ago dying into a weak static, crackling in his veins.

It wasn’t fair.

He had caused so much sadness, so much distance, just because he had been unable to read the signs. Up until now, this hadn’t been revenge. The message he had been unable to read properly… If he had to put them through another week apart from each other, he might just get struck by lightning for real. How could he have messed up so bad in the first week of them trying to progress with their relationship? And even now, he had been the one to make Ouma wait for almost a full week. If he had just realized the flower’s meaning earlier, then maybe this whole conflict…

Ouma stirred.

His face scrunched up and then his eyes opened slowly. Searching for the source of what caused him to wake up, his gaze fell on the boy hovering above him. Saihara felt purple eyes drilling into him with question, but yet again his voice failed him. All he could do was stare back, distressed and so tense he thought he might snap any second. But instead of falling into a thousand pieces, Ouma’s smile greeted him warmly. It was as if he understood, even without words exchanged between them. He extended his arms, welcoming Saihara into an embrace. Saihara in turn felt his layers of anxiety falling off, dropping to the ground like flower petals. He climbed onto the bed and lowered himself into Ouma’s arms, melting into his warmth.

Soft sunrays fell on his face. A warm sensation tingled the skin of his palm. Saihara’s consciousness began to stir. His arms felt empty but something else was different from his usual mornings as well. He tried to free his thoughts from sleep’s haziness. A blur of purple appeared before his eyes and he blinked rapidly to get accustomed to the light in his bedroom. “H… huh?”

Ouma pulled his hand back that had been intertwined with Saihara’s just seconds ago. Left in his palm was a single stem of…

“Saihara-chan, you’re awake!” He seemed genuinely surprised, if not even slightly embarrassed to be caught in the act. However he managed to recover quickly as always, the sheepish look replaced by a playful grin soon enough. In a swift motion, he climbed onto the bed and straddled Saihara. “You found it out, right?”

Saihara nodded eagerly, now fully awake. He propped himself up with his elbows. “Forget me not!” he blurted out.

In response, the boy raised an eyebrow questioningly but his lips already curled into a mischievous grin again. “What was that?”

Saihara felt his face heat up just a little as Ouma twisted his words. “Forget-me-not,” he repeated in a quieter voice. “A flower that symbolizes remembrance and connection between two people. And,” here he had to swallow, too embarrassed to keep eye contact, “… true and undying love.”

Now it was Ouma’s turn to color, if just ever so slightly. “Nishishi… looks like your research was thorough. Spot on.”

Saihara sat up and grabbed Ouma’s shoulders to draw him close and possibly keep him from tumbling off. “I—“ Now wasn’t the time to chicken out. He had to say it! After all these days!

“I could never forget you! You’re what’s most important to me!”

Ouma’s hands pushed against his chest to gain some distance. The blush on his cheeks made it obvious that he was uncomfortable. “T—Then, if I’m so precious and important to you, you also realize the true meaning of this, right?”

True meaning? Saihara had to pause for a second. There was another message he had missed? Something that was unique to Ouma, unique to their relationship.

All this thinking early in the morning wasn’t good for him. How was he supposed to concentrate when his mind was still clouded from… wait.

Early in the morning?!

Saihara’s head shot up, frantically searching for a clock. His gaze stayed on it, mesmerized. The hands had just reached 6:30 am.

Using Saihara’s confusion to his advance, Ouma threw his hands around his neck and pulled him close. “That’s my beloved Saihara-chan! A true detective!”

He tried to ignore the underlying sarcasm and embraced Ouma instead. So this had been a trick to make him get up earlier? It was true that he had woken up on time today, but it seemed like such a hassle to go through the trouble with the flowers, the whole not talking to each other… A prank. Another one of Ouma’s damn pranks that just needed to be this little bit of ‘extra’.

Groaning, he fell back onto the mattress, taking Ouma with him. “Why…”

He received a chuckle as a reply. “Because I love you?”

Saihara rolled his eyes.

“Besides, you were getting soo worked up over it! Whenever you looked at me with those sad, desperate eyes I got so excited, I almost spoiled the plan! Oh, did you know you’re making a really funny face when you’re asleep? Since I watched you every day for like 30 minutes or so, I won’t forget it for an eternity!”

The joy in his voice was enough to make Saihara forget the dread he had been feeling minutes ago. Almost. He tried a shaky smile and was pleased to find it reciprocated on Ouma’s face tenfold.

“I thought you were really mad at me,” he confessed his worries.

Ouma’s expression changed into surprise. “Me? Mad at Saihara-chan? I could never get mad at you! Not in a thousand years! Not even if you broke my favorite mug and made me eat the shards!”

His voice lowered dangerously. Saihara tried to laugh it off with an insecure laugh. “I definitely won’t do that…”

He seemed pleased with this answer, leaning down to push Saihara’s bangs away from his forehead and placed a soft kiss on his face. “Then I don’t have any reason to get mad, as long as you stay close.”

Saihara buried his face in the crook of Ouma’s neck, wondering if his scent reminded him of forget-me-not or the other way around. Experimentally he moved his lips along the delicate skin, half-expecting a backlash but Ouma only hummed in appreciation. He felt encouraged to move down to his collarbone peaking out from beneath his low cut shirt, mouthing kisses all over it. The taste of his skin made Saihara’s thoughts grow hazy. It was like he had forgotten the other’s warmth and got addicted to it all over again. Before he knew it his hands sneaked past the fabric of Ouma’s shirt to stroke his sides and pull him closer. “Good morning.”

Breathing the words that had been lacking in their lives for so long really did something for Ouma. He let out a startled whine and sat up rather abruptly. Saihara was about to ask if he did something wrong when the boy hastily removed his t-shirt.

“If Saihara-chan wants to do this…” His face had turned into a cute pink but Saihara figured he probably didn’t look any better color wise. He smiled shyly in return, waiting until Ouma leaned back down and initiated another kiss.

Lazily tapping away at some phone game, Ouma sighed with feigned annoyance. Yet Saihara could feel his triumphant grin bore into him while he refused to look up, curled into a tight embrace with his head against the shorter boy’s chest. His face was burning with embarrassment.

“Nishishi… I can’t believe you missed morning classes because you wanted to have sex with me instead. You’re the worst, Saihara-chan.”

#ouma kokichi #saihara shuuichi #saiouma #stuff for me #sternenmaler #THANK YOU SO MUCHHHH #please support them!!#submission

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