#conium

No rain for her, or very little. Rain brings slugs. No, rather the cold, blizzard wind from the North.

The head of the wind was far away, and crossing the city on my way home from work was like.. Biking in an oven (with convection aha), but we tried to put on a good face.

What I’m saying is don’t tempt me.

“What’s your favorite candy?” Conium blurted out of the blue one day. Allan looked up, confused, obviously, because in all honesty, he wasn’t exactly subtle about his favorite candy. (Cue flashback to the time he stood on a table screeching about how KitKats were superior to any other chocolates)

“What? You know that already, Con.” Conium shrugged, kicking his feet up into Allan’s lap. 

“Yeah, maybe I do, but I just want to make sure. KitKats, right?” Allan nodded. “Yup.”

The two sat in silence for a little while, Allan’s gaze skimming over the novel he was reading, mostly thinking rather than intaking the words. But Conium didn’t say anything else for the rest of the day concerning his small comment, so Allan chose to stew in confusion rather than bring it up again.

~~

“Quick--I need your favorite flowers.” 

Allan tore his gaze away from the sheet music he was attempting to read, but failing miserably at. “Orchids?”

“Thanks.” 

“Why?” Conium looked up from his laptop, confused. “Why what?”

Allan shrugged, looking away. “Nevermind.” The confusion still ate away at his mind, but he put it to rest. Answers would probably surface eventually, right?

~~

“Random question?” Conium said, startling Allan, who was laying across the couch while he did psychology homework. “Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite color?” Allan laughed. 

“What is it with you and asking me questions like this? This is the third time.” He said, ismiling. “But it’s yellow, since you asked. Yellow or blue.”

Conium smiled, scribbling it down on his hand with a small pen that was laying on the desk. “Got it.”

~~

The random questions were beginning to confuse Allan more than he thought was possible, but nevertheless, he answered them all, ranging from “what size hoodie do you prefer?” (XL, it flopped over his hands and hung comfortable to his frame) to “what’s your favorite love song?” (Always by Panic! At The Disco, Something To Believe In from Newsies, or You Matter To Me from Waitress), even to “what’s the most cheesy, cliche place I could take you on a date? That you would enjoy?” (walking through Hyde Park at night, dramatically. Because Allan lived for dramatics.). 

Though it confused him, what even began to scare him is the fact that Conium wouldn’t say anything about what he was planning. 

Allan sighed, placing his bag of books on the ground outside their flat, and unlocked the door.

Immediately, the scent of something burning alerted him to a presence inside the flat. Allan rushed inside, leaving the books from the library outside, and was met with Conium, covered in flour, cake mix and frosting--all around a mess.

“What… what did you do?” Allan asked, grinning, to which Conium groaned. 

“I failed.” The taller boy sighed, dusting a bit of batter out of his hair. “Miserably.”

“In what, might I ask?”

Conium stepped aside, and Allan was immediately greeted with an abundance of… random things. But all things that Conium had mentioned?

Some orchids tied with a yellow ribbon rested in a vase, next to an overly large hoodie (also yellow!) that had a small pile of KitKats resting on top of it. Allan looked up, confused. “It’s not my birthday, though…?” 

Conium’s expression faltered. “You--you forgot.” He couldn’t help but bite back a small laugh. “Adonis, you’ve been talking about today since December.”

Oh, shit. “It’s Valentine’s day, isn’t it?” Allan asked meekly, and Conium laughed. “And?”

“And our anniversary. Oh, God, how did I manage to forget?” Conium laughed once more, but his grin faded when he saw the look on Allan’s face. “Did I do something wrong?”

Allan shook his head. “No! No. It’s just… I feel like I didn’t do enough for you. Because you deserve so much more than just… you working so hard and me not getting you anything.” Conium smiled, taking Allan’s hand. 

“I don’t care if I deserve more or not. I don’t need all the extra stuff, and I don’t need you to go out of your way.” Conium said softly, tracing his free hand through Allan’s raven hair. “You’ve already given me the best gift ever, darling.”

Allan’s face flushed, but he ducked his head away. “What can I get you, though? I… still want to get you something at least.”

“A hug?” Conium whispered, and Allan obliged, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s stomach and burying his face in the crook of Conium’s neck. 

He’s super smug about somethin’ I wonder what. Gift for @ciraeus ! 

🌿 Conium maculatum (Conium maculatum)

Medicinal plant with documented traditional uses.