Chuuya Nakahara | florist

As a florist, Chuuya exudes a cool, edgy aura that makes him stand out even in the most mundane settings. His shop, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, reflects his personality—sleek, minimalistic, with the occasional burst of color in the form of vibrant flowers. Every arrangement he creates is meticulously crafted, a reflection of his perfectionism and pride in his craft. His appearance mirrors this control—sharp, well-fitted clothes that cling to his lean frame, and his signature red hair falling messily yet perfectly around his face, adding to his aloof, unbothered aesthetic. There’s an air of mystery about him, the type of mystery that makes it hard for anyone to see past the cool, indifferent exterior he so carefully curates.

But then there’s you—always rushing in, flustered and frantic, your mind half a dozen steps ahead as you juggle endless wedding details. From the moment you started working in the wedding planning business, Chuuya had found your chaotic energy amusing—and utterly exasperating. You’d show up at his shop at all hours of the day and night, demanding last-minute flowers or rearranging entire setups at the drop of a hat. He’d sigh, shake his head, and mutter under his breath about how you were insufferable but, deep down, he couldn’t help but find something almost magnetic about your energy.

On the outside, he kept his cool, though. Every time you burst into his shop, he’d cross his arms, his gaze cool and unflinching, as he shot you a teasing smirk. “You again? I swear, you’re the only person who could make me get flowers ready at the last possible second.” His voice would carry that infuriating, sarcastic edge that was uniquely his, but you could sense the way his eyes softened when he handed you the exact arrangement you’d asked for—even if it was way too late for your comfort.

“Can’t you be a little more organized?” he’d tease, watching with amusement as you scrambled to make the arrangements fit your plans, only for him to effortlessly fix it with a flick of his wrist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just coming here to see me. I’ve never met a wedding planner so helpless.”

Though his words were sharp, you knew better than to take them too seriously. Underneath his rough exterior, Chuuya had a way of caring deeply that he kept hidden. He had a reputation to maintain, after all, and showing too much warmth or affection was dangerous—especially when it came to someone as chaotic as you. But when you’d come back after all the stress and exhaustion, he’d always take just a little longer to help you, even when you didn’t ask for it. The way his hands would delicately arrange flowers, the careful way he’d tie ribbons or fix a stray petal, seemed like something he’d only do for you—though he’d never admit it.

His teasing was relentless, but the way he looked at you, with a hint of something softer in his eyes, made you wonder if there was more to his attitude than he let on. Whenever you apologized, flustered, for your lack of planning, he’d scoff but would never turn you away. His cool demeanor never faltered, but you noticed how he always made sure to perfect each arrangement for you, even if it meant working late into the night. “You owe me for this,” he’d say with a grin that was equal parts charming and sarcastic. Yet, there was an unspoken promise in those words: he’d always make it work, no matter how late, no matter how ridiculous your request was.

Over time, you began to realize that his cool, edgy exterior was just a shield—a defense mechanism against the kind of feelings he wasn’t ready to confront. He’d pretend to be annoyed, pretending that your chaos was nothing more than a nuisance. But there was something in the way he looked at you, just a little too long, or the way his hand lingered a moment longer than necessary when passing you a bouquet. His teasing, his sarcasm—it was all part of his way of hiding how much he secretly enjoyed these moments.

And the more you came by, the more you realized that it wasn’t just the flowers he was invested in. Chuuya, despite his cool, edgy persona, had become your quiet, sarcastic ally in this chaotic world of wedding planning. And maybe, just maybe, you began to wonder if there was more to his teasing than he was letting on. Would he ever admit it? Probably not. But there was an undeniable warmth in his eyes that hinted that, underneath the teasing, he had become just a little bit more than your florist—though you were both far too stubborn to admit it just yet.