Sebastian dragged his weary feet up the last flight of stairs. Tips had been pretty good tonight and so he had stopped at the all night grocery store on his way home and spent thirty precious dollars on groceries. The rest would be added to his savings account, which was growing due to his absolute diligence on his spending. He shifted the heavy bag to his left hand, fumbled for the keys and let himself in.
Closing and locking the door behind him he flipped on the light. Flowers? There on the tiny, shabby table that he sat at for meals was the most colorful arrangement of spring flowers he had ever seen. Bright tulips in red, striped and yellow, yellow daffodils, daisies, and baby's breath, some kind of sweet smelling grass stuff and some green frondy things: all combined to make a beautiful splash of color against the rather dingy wall of his apartment.
How on earth had it gotten into his apartment? He highly doubted that Mrs. Duncan would have heaved her fat self up three flights of stairs just to make sure the flowers and package made it into his apartment. It was far likelier that she would have taken the delivery, and simply not passed it on to him.
There was a card on the table as well as a small package. The envelope had his name written in swirling calligraphy. He opened it and pulled out a white card, embossed with his name in gold on the front. He opened it and written in the same elegant calligraphy was a short note.
Beloved,
Happy Valentine's Day a little early.
I hope that you enjoy the flowers and your gift.
Thinking of you today.
Your Secret Admirer,
G
Sebastian's jaw dropped. A secret admirer? Him? Oh God, some poor female had lost her mind. There had only been one or two girls in his entire life that he had felt attracted to: and one of those had been in grade school. Mostly his fantasies had consisted of men, usually men older than he was. A daddy complex Sarah had teased him gently.
Shaking his head he opened the small box covered with a golden paper and bow. Inside, were a small book and a tin of his favorite tea, a very expensive brand that he had only treated himself to twice last year because of the price.
Feeling rather guilty, he put some water on to boil. It was alright he told himself, there was no way to know who had given it to him so it wasn't like he could return it. He put his groceries away, made himself a cup of fragrant tea and sat down at the table across from the flowers and opened the book 'Victorian Flower Meanings'.
Paging through the book he found that some of the pages were marked with sticky notes. He discovered that tulips in general meant 'perfect lover': red tulips meant 'declaration of love', the striped tulips (which he found out were called variegated) meant 'beautiful eyes', yellow tulips said 'there is sunshine in your smile. The yellow daffodils meant 'chivalry' while the general meanings were 'regard, sunshine and respect'. The baby's breath meant 'innocence and pure of heart'. The green frondy things turned out to be maidenhair ferns which were 'secret bond of love or discretion'. The cheerful daisies meant 'innocence, loyal love, purity and beauty. The very last ingredient in his bouquet was lemon grass. Grass itself meant 'submission' while the lemon grass meant homosexual love.
Maybe his admirer wasn't a woman after all? He reached out and touched a silky tulip petal. They were definitely a romantic, whoever they were. He had never really paid all that much attention to Valentine's Day. The one year he had had a boyfriend things had ended very badly just after Christmas. These flowers were his first Valentine's Day present that hadn't been the little cards that he had exchanged in grade school.
He had never really dated, except for Aaron. He thought a little nostalgically about the good times with Aaron, and then shook his head. He had been young and in love; and stupid, very stupid for staying as long as he did. He had paid for that, and paid dearly.
He smiled. A secret admirer. Even if he never met them it was nice to be noticed for once. He felt that he was pretty ordinary looking, brown hair and eyes, average height and build, nothing about him was terribly eye catching. Whoever had sent the flowers must have been watching him fairly closely to know what his favorite tea was though. He frowned that that. He hadn't noticed anyone out of the ordinary hanging around. Maybe it was someone he knew?
Eyes aching from tiredness he crawled onto his futon bed and curled up under the log cabin quilt that his grandmother had given him for his tenth birthday. In the light of the streetlight shining in his window he could see his bouquet across the small room. He was still smiling as he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
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Sebastian was up early the next morning, regardless that he didn't have to be to work until three in the afternoon. He ate a quick breakfast, admiring his flowers, and then threw his soup on to cook. Made from rather cheap ingredients it was a tasty concoction of white beans (which he bought dry and soaked), a ham bone, and a variety of vegetables which generally tended to be the last few carrots, celery, potatoes (generally a bit wilted), an onion and a garlic clove. He had always loved to cook, learning practically at his mother's knee.
At two o'clock he tucked the lidded pot into the fridge, got ready for work and stopped off to pay rent before leaving the building. Mrs. Duncan's sour expression didn't change and he said nothing about the flowers. He simply handed her the money order and headed out for work. Early on he had been warned by the other tenants not to pay in cash unless he asked for a receipt. His beady eyed landlord had been known to 'forget' that someone had paid the rent and demand it twice. He shook his head, what a bitch.
Work went smoothly, as it always did on Sundays. When he had first started bartending at 'The Happy Hour' he had expected tips to be much less than they were during the weekends. They were for the most part, but still better than he expected due to the large amount of regulars that were decent tippers. He liked this job. In the past three months he had been able to quit his other jobs and pick up extra hours here. He definitely liked having some money in savings again. Once he had reached his minimum goal for that, he was planning to do some things for himself, like some new clothes and shoes, as well as treats like his favorite tea. He didn't mind shopping at thrift stores; they had pretty decent stuff for the main part. It would be nice to have something new though.
Sebastian kept a close eye on his regulars and new customers trying to guess if any of them were his secret admirer. No one seemed to treat him any differently than they had before. There was the usual crowd. Fridays and Saturdays were the busy days, but during the week the bar was open for lunch and supper and a lot of the local businessmen, lawyers, secretaries and such stopped by for a quick bite.
"You're kinda quiet tonight," Sara commented as they took a quick break during a lull.
"Well," he hemmed. He liked Sara, he really did, but sometimes she could be a down-right pain in the ass. Mentally kicking himself, knowing that he would probably regret it, he told her. "I got some flowers yesterday."
"Well, who were they from?" she asked, almost jumping up and down, her ponytail bobbing.
"I don't know," he said, grinning at her. Sara was only a year older than he was at 22, but sometimes acted like she was 12.
She giggled, "you schmuck, stop drawing it out and just tell me!" She mock punched him in the shoulder.
