A love between a botanist and archivist

The greenhouse was filled with the tangent scent of leafy succulents and towering trees as it always did in the usual humid afternoon. The burning rays translated into golden kisses upon the vegetation and the customers within, bathing everything in its wake.

The sanctuary of plants always buzzed with life and movement, swaying against women with green thumbs, winking against children with curiosity and consuming the full attention of the botanist. Free roaming blonde hair, erratic chocolate eyes and an even more fickle appearance – coffee-stained apron, mix matched socks, and an irregularly buttoned up shirt.

The owner and the sensitive man managing this greenhouse, Theodore Weslee.

“Please make sure you don’t touch them unnecessary!” Theodore urged at the giggling kids passing by.

One of these kids looked over their shoulder and mischievously winked at the man. They were going to touch the plants unnecessarily.

Theodore’s body deflated a little, his shoulders slumping, and his back arched forward. He was going to have to clean up the flower aisle after closing hour. What fun.

“You still running this establishment, Theo?” A deep, rough-throat voice resonated throughout his being, whipping his body in formality.

Theodore spun around on his heels and nearly groaned in deep-rooted irritation.

“Novan, what do you want now?” Theodore sighed out with his hand on his hips.

And of course, Novan did anything but to reply with his words first.

Novan meandered towards Theodore with a certain ease, as if all the worry of his world does not even fall on him. No stress, no care and certainly no responsibility seemed to ever could etch his beautiful face with imperfections or wrinkles.

He hates him deeply. Novan – groomed facial hair, dark chocolate locs and sharp looking eyes always annoyed Theodore to the deepest depths and highest tops.

Theodore hates how Novan’s smile widens when he notices him looking at his lips. He hates how dimples form when his face brightens, how his eyes glints with adoration, how Novan seems to only care about Theodore.

“Can’t an old friend just visit his beauty?” Novan’s hand found its way to Theodore’s apron.

Oh gods. . . Please send me strength. Theodore thought.

The way Novan’s hands always managed to make him fluster, the way he reminds Theodore of the pansies in his office window, tempts him to be buried in flowers and forget all about his worries.

He could even let himself indulge with the touch from Novan – the soft, gentle graze of his hands, the feeling of his lips against his neck, and maybe even-

No.

No, no, no…

This possibility – no, fantasy really – is just another stupid, childish, and unrealistic dream from years ago. Resurfacing now since Novan’s here.

Here to make Theodore feel the tidal wave of emotions he wished he could just bury and forget all about them.

The hurt, the pain, the damn longing he wished he could just snip off, and most definitely the stupid feeling of love. Love for Novan. Love for a man that led Theodore’s heart into the expansive shelves, whisper thoughts of affection, and took it on history adventures through the multitude of objects, big and small.

But not everything good last forever and Theodore’s heart broke into more pieces than all the archived trinkets and objects found in those melancholic mantels.

Theodore backed away from Novan and sucked in the burning tears threatening to burst behind his eyes desperately.

“Answer the damn question, Novan.” Theodore restated with clear strain.

His hands were now curled up in fists, clenching his dishevelled apron in clumps while his tears yelled out to be released.

Novan’s easy-going expression hardened with regret and he sighed deeply.

“Theodore… I said I was sorry all those years ago. Okay? You know I had to leave for college. The both of us had no control over that.” Novan voice was now bunny soft and understanding, but it felt like daggers repeatedly stabbing into Theodore’s heart.

“Of course… Because you valued your trinkets and letters and scrolls and. . . A-and original materials of dead people.”

More than you valued me and my heart. Theodore wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to.

“C’mon, I said I was sorry-”

“Sorry isn’t good enough anymore, Novan Winters.” Theodore shakily shot back.

Novan instantly shut up afterwards and looked down in shame.

“You loved me unconditionally, showering me with affectionate thoughts, trinkets and even kisses in your granddad’s ancient archive. But that does not mean what you did afterwards was right.” Theodore’s knuckles turned white as he clung onto his apron more.

“Y-You left me at my lowest, and you know it! My father started to call me a pansy. Fitting, isn’t it? The flower boy who wants to be a botanist and to run his own plant shop. A weak, and soft, and gay boy who couldn’t do sports, or fighting, or even join the army; resorting to wanting something just like him. A soft, stupid, weak, gay position so he could make up for his lack of masculinity.”

Theodore was now smaller, shrank, and pathetically weak. Tears streamed down his cheeks, falling onto the purple hyacinths on the ground. His hands that were white knuckled and firmly clenched, were now just shaking on either side of him. Sobs even started to come out of his throat.

Theodore’s delusions fell away and left behind a familiar hollowness that welcomed him in its arms when Novan left that letter 5 years ago.

“I th-think you n-need to l-l-leave now.” Theodore managed to croak out with coherency.

Novan’s eyes travelled up to Theo’s with the burning passion of love and devotion. The same type he carried when he kissed Theo for the first time.

“No, Theodore Weslee.”

“Novan… I’m going to have to call security-”

Novan seized Theodore’s hands with the urgent sense of plea but also the determination of a husband returning from the war, to embrace his lover in his arms.

“Go ahead, my beauty. Go and call security on me. But I’m not leaving. Not now, not ever. I know that when I left you 5 years ago, I broke your heart than what I could’ve done in protecting you. But I’m here now. And whatever happens to me, I’ll never leave you like I did before.” Novan loudly proclaimed.

“I was a coward. An immature boy that didn’t want to break your heart with ending his relationship because of college but did even more damage than he would’ve just done so. But… But now? I’m more devoted to you. More driven to stay by your side and make sure you are taken care of. I’m a man of my word.”

Theodore couldn’t contain it anymore and sobbed his feelings out into Novan’s broad chest. He wanted to scream, shout, swear, insult and all the other types of sending hatred to Novan. He doesn’t deserve his heart. He doesn’t deserve his tears, or his figure pressed against his. Novan certainly does not deserve to be in his presence any longer. But Theodore’s heart took over. Calmed the storm of his erratic mind in what must feel like forever.

Novan hugged Theodore’s body lovingly and made sure his leather trench coat didn’t irritate Theodore. And he honestly couldn’t care less about his turtle neck being soaked with tears of his Theodore, just as long he could have his Theodore back in his arms.

“I… I would really like that, Novan.” Theodore said.

“Then will you let me in your heart again, my Theodore?”