eternal shipping

i was just thinking about this scene from @darkmagicalgirlwrites‘s fic. (is it bad to draw art of fics that concluded 2 and a half years ago? sorry, i’m sure you’re probably focused on something different by now, haha.)

iwaoi cuddles 4 ways

10. You

9. Can’t

8. Rank

7. Them all

6. Because

5. Each

4. Is special

3. In their

2. Own way

Iwaizumi: “I’m glad Oikawa is my bestfriend. Otherwise I would have just stared at him for twenty years while hoping he would notice I loved him.”

The first time she had entered the shop had been a week before mothers day.

The quaint little shop had caught her eye when she had been on her way home from the office the other day. She had spotted the bright and colorful bouquets while her car had been stuck in traffic. She had requested that her driver pull over so she could take a quick peak inside.

Her mother had been fond of flowers, if Momo was recalling her childhood correctly, so what a wonderful surprise it would be when a beautiful arrangement arrived for her mother on her special day.

The large glass windows of the store front allowed for rays of sunlight to brighten and warm the shop. The sweet scents from the flowers filled Momo’s nose and she was reminded of the first day of spring.

Yes, she was indeed glad she stopped.

Browsing, her designer heels lightly clicking against the floor, Momo tried to decide which flowers would be best to get her mother. She tried to recall books she had read to see if she could remember specific meanings, but nothing seemed to spark. Taking a another glance around, she realized she had yet to spot an employee.

“Hello?” she called, not wanting to sound rude.

“Welcome,” a female voice called from the back room. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Take your time,” Momo answered, not really in much of a rush to get home. Her family was currently away visiting relatives, leaving Momo to run the company in their absence. The staff were polite to her, but due to her status it made casual conversation very difficult. Momo focused once again on the flowers trying to see if any of the bright colors jumped out at her. She made it over to a small bundle of lavender when the employee spoke up again.

“Sorry for the wait, I had to finish up putting the buds in the greenhouse,” the voice sighed. Momo turned and for a moment she was startled by the woman before her. She was shorter than Momo, her heels not helping, and had what Momo would call a ‘punk’ look to her attire. It wasn’t something Momo would place with a girl that working in a flower shop, but there was something so endearing about it.

“No trouble,” Momo smiled politely, lightly holding her clutch in front of her. “I was hoping to order something for my mother for next weekend.”

“Huh? Oh, Mother’s Day … right,” the other cleared her throat, tucking a bit of her hair behind one of her ears. Momo took notice of the different kinds of earrings. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I love your jewelry,” Momo complimented without thinking. She paused, feeling a slight flush come to her cheeks seeing the employee look at her with wide eyes. Jirou, if Momo was reading the name tag correctly.

“I’m not quite sure,” Momo quickly changed the subject back to the task at hand. She didn’t want to make the employee uncomfortable. “Is there anything you would suggest?”

Momo was surprised to see her light up.

“Well, if you tell me a bit about her, I may be able to help,” Jirou said, a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Momo had to take a moment.

Momo had spent an hour in the flower shop, talking about her mother and family while Jirou led her around the shop picking different flowers to add to the order that would be made during the week. Momo couldn’t seem to stop smiling the entire conversation while Jirou seemed so engrossed in her work explaining the meanings behind some of the flowers and pointing out different color combinations. Momo found her to be quite charming.

“Would you like these delivered, or would you prefer to pick them up?” Jirou asked as she began writing up the order.

“I would like to pick it up, please,” Momo said, completely forgoing the delivery for another chance to chat with Jirou. She nodded, completing the order in the shops catalog book.

“There’s a deposit fee of fifteen dollars, then the remainder is paid at pickup so we can ensure satisfaction,” Jirou explained. Momo handed over the amount and soon found that her time in the small shop had come to an end for now.

“Thank you so much for your help, Jirou,” Momo gave her best smile.

“Oh, um … no problem, miss,” Jirou answered. It was only then that Momo realized she had yet to introduce herself.

“I’m so sorry, please, call me Momo,” she reached out to lightly shaking Jirou’s hand. She felt quite proud of herself seeing the other flush again. “Well, I best be going.” Momo turned and gave one final wave before walking out of the shop and returning to the car. Taking a deep breath, she could stop the smile from coming to her face the entire ride home.

  Hell

Jirou groaned while her head made a soft thud against the counter. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself before recalling the numerous times she made herself look like a fool.

What was she supposed to do? An absolute amazon had just walked into the freaking shop. Jirou placed a hand over her heart to try and calm it down.

“Easy girl, easy,” she muttered to herself, trying to keep her mind busy with watering the plants. “A girl like that is way out of your league.”

The thought was a bit souring, but she could daydream couldn’t she? Even her name had been cute.

“She probably isn’t even gay,” Jirou scolded herself. How many times had she misread signals, or gotten herself looped into a horrible relationship because of rushing into something. “What am I doing?” she asked herself, staring at the pink Camillia’s she was watering. Rolling her eyes at herself, she rushed to the back to go drown her stupidity in the waterlily pool. At least that would save her the embarrassment.

It had only gotten worse during the pick up.

Jirou had to admit that she had put a little bit of extra work into the order for Momo. She felt stupid for doing it, but she ended up doing it regardless. It had turned into a nice bouquet that Jirou knew that anyone would love.

The door opening alerted her of another customer, and in waltzed the amazon herself.

“Hello, Jirou,” Momo greeted so casually that Jirou thought her heart would stop.

“Afternoon, Momo,”  Jirou answered, trying her best to keep her facial expression in check. “Give me one second to grab your order.” She watched Momo nod, elegant in every possible way. It really wasn’t fair. Jirou rushed to the back to try and not stare at how lovely Momo was.

“Here you are,” Jirou smiled, presenting the bundle to Momo and waiting for her reaction. Momo’s eyes grew wide while she gasped softly. JIrou could swear she was almost glowing.

“Oh, Jirou it’s beautiful. Thank you so much, she’ll love it,” Momo compliment, reaching forward and taking the bundle from Jirou. Their hands brushed and Jirou was nearly taken out from how soft Momo’s hands were. Jirou managed to complete the rest of the transaction and waved to Momo as she left before shrinking down to hide behind the counter with a groan.

Only when they’re alone, and when Yamaguchi can’t see him stare. Usually at one of their houses, studying. They’ve known each other for so long it’s almost like a ritual. Their parents never seem to mind.

Yamaguchi almost always falls asleep while they’re studying. When they were in middle school, Tsukishima would try to wake him up. Come on, Yamaguchi, this is why you’re struggling in class. But now he just lets him sleep. Yamaguchi learns the way that he learns. 

At this point, Tsukishima puts on his headphones. Whenever he studies by himself he always listens to music. He likes all kinds so long as there is rhythm to it; he rarely pays attention to lyrics he just likes that place in his soul where music takes him.

When there isn’t music, there’s Yamaguchi, so much so that the two become linked in his mind. And when Yamaguchi falls asleep and Tsukishima puts on his headphones, he looks at Yamaguchi’s freckles and traces the patterns between them. Despite how much he loves music Tsukishima doesn’t know the first thing about reading musical notes but he thinks it must be like Yamaguchi’s freckles—somewhere in his skin is a song that plays and only Tsukishima can hear it. 

Someday, someday, he wants to trace those freckles with his fingers.

Someday.