The office was dim except for the city lights painting patterns on the window.
Mark sat behind his desk, staring at his phone.
They did say that Fate has a twisted humor.
Who would have thought.
World is indeed small.
Kyle is Ray's best friend.
Ray who's also his bestfriend boyfriend.
The screen lit up — a photo.
Kyle.
Holding a small pot of succulents. Laughing. A soft glow on his cheeks. His apron smudged with soil.
It wasn’t sent to him directly — just something Ray posted on their shared story. But Mark had already saved it.
He shouldn’t have.
He knew.
Kyle had a boyfriend.
Ryan.
But that didn’t stop the gnawing in his chest. The sharp edge of fascination that had turned into need. The way he memorized Kyle’s schedule, how he always ordered peppermint tea when he was nervous, how he pressed his tongue to his cheek when he was trying not to cry.
Mark had watched from a distance for weeks.
Then… he stopped waiting.
He started visiting the plant shop regularly — always with a different excuse.
“I’m redecorating one of my hotels. I need something low maintenance.”
“Can you help me pick plants that won’t die near air conditioning?”
“I forgot what you said about overwatering. Show me again?”
He didn't need help. But he needed him.
Kyle would smile, flustered, so sweet. So soft. Unaware of what Mark was doing.
Mark has planned and execute..
----
GREEN SPROUT HAVEN
🎵Soft music plays — something low, dreamy, like acoustic guitar and wind chimes in a sunny greenhouse.
—
GREEN SPROUT HAVEN
🎵Soft music plays — something low, dreamy, like acoustic guitar and wind chimes in a sunny greenhouse.
—
DAY 20
Mark steps in.
Kyle looks up from behind a stack of pots, blinking in surprise. “Back so soon?”
Mark shrugs. “I owed you one cactus purchase, remember?”
Kyle grins. “You remembered.”
Mark: already remembering everything.
—
DAY 35
Mark sits at the corner stool, nursing a cup of hand-brewed coffee Kyle made just for him.
Kyle chats with a customer but keeps glancing over.
Mark pretends to read a flyer. Doesn’t fool anyone.
—
DAY 48
Mark points at a fern. “That one’s looking at me funny.”
Kyle laughs, wiping soil off his cheek. “It’s a Boston Fern. She judges everyone. Don’t take it personally.”
Mark doesn’t say it aloud, but he doesn’t mind being judged if Kyle is the one looking.
—
DAY 60
Kyle hands Mark coffee. Their fingers brush.
Too long.
Too warm.
They both look away.
Mark mutters, “Thanks.”
Kyle mumbles, “You’re welcome.”
The air is heavier than it was a second ago.
—
DAY 78
They talk about music. Books. The worst clients they’ve dealt with.
Kyle says, “Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to just leave everything and grow tomatoes in the mountains.”
Mark replies, “You’d miss the succulents.”
Kyle smiles. “Maybe. Would you visit?”
Mark: “Every day.”
Kyle laughs, unaware how much he means it.
—
DAY 86
Mark’s tie is loosened. His shirt sleeves rolled up. He looks tired.
Kyle sees it instantly.
“You okay?”
Mark doesn’t lie. “Not really.”
Kyle doesn’t push. Just makes tea, sits beside him, and lets the silence heal.
Mark falls in love a little more.
—
DAY 90
Mark accidentally helps carry a delivery. Kyle makes fun of his soft hands.
“You’ve never lifted a sack of soil in your life.”
“I lift my company’s stock price. Close enough.”
Kyle laughs. Mark watches him like it’s the only sound that matters.
—
DAY 100
A quiet moment. No customers. No distractions.
Kyle is repotting a succulent.
Mark watches him, chin resting on one hand.
“You’re good at this,” he says.
Kyle hums. “Good at what?”
Mark’s voice is low, honest. “Making things feel like home.”
Kyle pauses, breath caught.
Then quietly replies, “So are you.”
—
🎵 Music fades out.
GREEN SPROUT HAVEN — NIGHT, CLOSING TIME
Kyle turns the "Open" sign to "Closed."
Mark stays behind, helping put the chairs up.
Kyle glances at him.
He doesn’t know what this is yet.
But he knows the world feels softer when Mark is around.
And Mark knows he’d burn everything he owns just to keep sitting in that plant shop for one more hour — if Kyle’s smile is part of the deal.
----
Each visit was deliberate. Calculated.
He came during quiet hours. Learned when Ryan wasn’t around. Bought more than he needed. Brought coffee. Laughed at Kyle’s jokes. Memorized the sound of his voice.
And every time Ryan’s name came up — Mark would smile politely.
But inside, he burned.
Kyle talked about Ryan like he was something constant. But Mark could see the cracks. The exhaustion. The way Kyle's smile dimmed slightly when he spoke of home.
So Mark waited.
Not patiently — but strategically.
He built a presence. A rhythm. So that one day, when Kyle needed someone…
He wouldn’t look for Ryan.
He’d look for him.
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