Aya glanced at the clock again and frowned, feeling distinctly like an idiot. It had been a slow day. It wasn’t as if they had much stock to sell, after the wave of customers they’d entertained yesterday. Still, when Free had told him in that vague, serious way of his that he should really be in the shop today, he hadn’t thought to question it.
Now that the day was almost over and nothing even remotely out of the ordinary had happened, Aya was left to wonder if perhaps he’d been expertly played by the other man. However, if Free had not wanted to work his shift in the shop, why hadn’t he simply said so?
“Ken, I’m going in the back to get things cleaned up,” Aya said, knowing he sounded more than a little peeved and frankly not giving a damn. He saw the question in Ken’s eyes, but retreated before it was asked.
When the bell attached to the shop’s door rang, he ignored it and continued with his cleaning and restocking. Ken could deal with whoever it was. Winding the ribbon back on the spool, Aya was in the process of placing it on the shelf when a rather agitated Ken strode into the room. He was pale and possibly sweating and just as the redhead was about to ask him what was wrong, Ken grabbed him by the arm.
“Aya, I think you should come out here and deal with this customer.”
He glared, temper already frayed by the idea of having given up his day off for absolutely no reason.
“I’m busy, in case you failed to notice. Tell whomever it is that we’re sorry, but our stock should be replenished within the next day or so. Give the customer the name of the other florist a few blocks over. They’re larger than our shop and likely to have some flowers left.”
But Ken was shaking his head vigorously.
“No, that’s not the problem. Look Aya, I think you need to be the one to handle this guy personally.”
Before Aya could protest again, Ken was dragging him out of the back room and into the front of the store.
The customer had his back to them both when they returned, presumably looking over one of the left-over Valentine’s Day displays. He was tall and fit, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a cream-colored sweater. Although casually dressed, there was certainly nothing casual about the man wearing the clothes. His hair was a rich honey-blond. His eyes, when he turned to greet them were a dark shade of green…
Aya gasped. So did the man. Ryo was the one to recover first.
“Aya?”
Aya blinked back at Ryo as he steadied himself mentally and tried to form some sort of reply. He could feel Ken vibrating with energy and unspoken words as he glanced quickly between the two as if he was watching one of his football matches. Eager to see the outcome of the match, but just as eager to see how the match was played.
“Yohji?” Aya’s voice quavered, much to his annoyance, but the man was shaking his head.
“Ryo. I don’t know who Yohji is. Not anymore.”
He spoke in English, Aya realized, his use of the language far better than it had once been. There was an underlying sadness in the words, but also a sense of both longing and hope. He’d come here looking for answers, of that Aya was certain.
“But you're trying to remember?” He realized he was suddenly afraid to hear Ryo's answer. There were so many possibilities for his presence here.
Ryo pulled something from his pocket and studied it. Aya immediately recognized the card for what it was. “Someone sent me flowers on Valentine's Day, using this location. I was hoping to find out who that person was.”
Aya opened his mouth to speak, completely unsure what he might say, but Ken interrupted him. “You sent him flowers? My god Aya, what were you thinking?”
Without asking permission, Ken snatched the card from Ryo's hand and read it. Aya could see the disbelief dawning on his face. He waved the card in a frantic gesture.
“Shit, Aya! You really don't believe in doing anything half-assed, do you? Did you stop to think that this might bring him here? He's not an idiot you know.”
“No, I'm not an idiot,” Ryo answered, looking both amused and irritated. “You,” he said, directing his gaze at Ken. “I know you too, don't I? I have a picture of you in my sketchbook.”
Ken had the decency to appear embarrassed, Aya noted. He handed the card back to Ryo and nodded. “Yeah, you do. I'm Ken. Hidaka Ken. We used to be friends.”
Aya could feel the weight of Ryo’s attention as it shifted back to him. “And you're Aya. Aya what? Did we used to be friends?”
“Fujimiya Aya and yes, we used to be friends.” He heard Ken snort. Meeting Ryo's eyes, he sighed. “More than friends as well, once.”
“And that's why you sent the flowers and the card? It was you, wasn't it?”
“Yes, only you weren't supposed to ever know that. I didn't intend to interfere in your life Yoh… Ryo. I figured you would think your wife sent them.”
“I don't have a wife. Asuka divorced me.”
Aya couldn't help the shocked expression that flashed across his face. Last he heard, and was assured of, Ryo and Asuka were living happily ever after. He had no reason to believe otherwise.
“I'm sorry to hear that,” he answered lamely.
Ken snorted again, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “yeah right.” Aya glared at him until he raised both hands in a warding gesture.
Ryo glanced between the two, his patience beginning to wear thin. “Can we go some place and talk, Aya? My hotel’s only a few blocks from here.”
“I suppose we should,” Aya replied, untying the apron from around his waist and tossing it over the counter. “You do realize, don’t you, that I won’t be able to provide you with the answers to all your questions?”
“Won’t or can’t?” Ryo countered, then shook his head. “Look, you know who I was, right? That’s a helluva lot more than I know. I don’t expect you to fill in all the gaps. I doubt anyone could do that. I do, however, think I’m entitled to a little explanation from the man who sent me those flowers with that message. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Aya nodded, knowing Ryo spoke truth. He had gambled by sending those flowers. Thought he was safe, but instead he had been reckless. Of course, he was going on the latest information provided to him by Omi. It occurred to Aya then, that perhaps he and Omi were overdue for a rather long talk.
The bell jingled again as Ryo held open the door, glancing from Aya to Ken. “I’m sure I’ll want to talk to you too, Ken. If that’s okay with you?”
“Yeah, sure. You know where to find me.” Aya thought, as he and Ryo departed, that Ken really looked far too pleased with himself. Damn him. And damn Free too.