Purple Tulips

Purple Tulips

Word Count: 2647 | No context warnings other than fluff | Guys this fic is actually beta'd! My work won't suck as much now lmao ⁂

Love, and even more so in marriage, was complicated. 

You had witnessed countless divorces and separations around you, from family friends to your own parents. From a young age, you had sworn you wouldn’t end up like them. You’d have a happy marriage and be one of those couples that would have their 70th anniversary announced on the news like some sort of prestigious award. High school came with summer flings and off again- on again boyfriends, almost to the point where you thought it was your fault. Something was wrong with you. Still, you were determined to make every relationship work. College came with serious relationships that fizzled out with stress and time, experimenting with various genders and sexualities, dramatic announcements on facebook stating that you had ‘sworn off dating and would remain single for the rest of your life’. 

And then you met Marc.

Marc was one of the sweetest, kindest men you had met. He went the extra mile to go out of his way to show you how much he cared about you. An added bonus was how incredibly handsome he was, so naturally, you fell for him. You fell hard for him. A year of dating and suddenly you were engaged and married to him. Every hope and fear of relationships you had once had were out in the open and on the table, shared with him and confided in him. Both of you were determined to make it work. He had passion and adventure coursing through his veins. 

Then he disappeared. He came back eventually, changed, but still alive. He was tenser, snappier, more stressed than normal. Suddenly, the picture perfect marriage you had for a little while didn’t seem so perfect. Suddenly, you could see your worst nightmare coming true- a failed marriage. Just another statistic. Marc was colder than before, shaking off your touches and keeping himself distant. For a while, it worked; it was painful and heartbreaking, but it worked. 

And then you met Steven. 

Which was odd. The whole situation was odd and delicate, even after all this time. It was still Marc, but it wasn’t. At first you thought he was joking, maybe Marc had snapped and this was his way of coping; after a while, you couldn’t think like that anymore.

 In fact, you even grew to like Steven. Where Marc had turned sour and prickly, Steven was caring and gentle, nervous and unsure. It was refreshing, even a little thrilling. Being around Steven brought up the feelings of being newly married to Marc, the same love and care seeping through the air. It also brought heartache, knowing full well that it was just too complicated and confusing to really act on the feelings you had deep in your heart. No matter what happened, however, you still loved both Marc and Steven. 

A therapist had once told you to take every morning slowly. Assess the situation and take it one stride at a time. Which, that morning, you were. It was no different to any other morning, the smells of fresh bacon cooking on the stove, hashbrowns heating up in the oven, and fresh coffee brewing filling the air. Work would start in an hour, but you gave yourself enough time to ease yourself into the day. 

“Mornin’” A voice, thick with a posh British accent, made you jump, a strip of bacon nearly flying out of the pan as he scared you mid- flip. Steven’s voice was normally very comforting (if a little goofy upon first hearing it); however, it was still unnerving to hear at times. Every morning went like this, it seemed: a good morning to tell you who was fronting that day. 

“Oh, Good morning, Steven.” You replied, watching Steven out of the corner of your eye as you tended to the bacon. He moved to make himself a cup of tea, a small smile curling up at the corner of your lips. Marc would never make himself tea, but Steven loved the stuff. It was one of the first signs you really knew that Marc wasn’t playing with you. 

“Sleep well then, yeah?” He asked, dunking his tea bag in and out of the boiling water. You both slept in the same bed, but Steven wouldn’t know how last night went. You fished the bacon out of the pan, setting it on a paper towel before cracking some eggs to cook. Steven had fetched a bowl of cereal out, content with his sugary breakfast foods. Marc hardly ever ate breakfast.

“Yeah I did, did you…I mean.. How long have you been,” You paused. How do you ask someone how long they’ve been hidden away for? “Asleep?” 

Steven chewed his food for a second, thinking. “What day is it?” 

“Saturday.” 

“Ah,” He beamed, as if this answer was good. “Only a few days then, the last I remember was Thursday.” You grinned, putting a lid over the eggs to let them cook. The kitchen was filled with just the sounds of eggs popping and Steven chewing. Your thoughts for the day overtook you for a moment, a list of stuff you’d need to do at work playing in your head. You didn’t know what to say to him. Everything was still working out for the three of you, still in the awkward phases. 

“What’s your favourite flower?” Steven asked suddenly, setting his bowl on the kitchen table and bringing the mug of tea to his lips. Surprised, you wracked your brain- not expecting to talk much to him. In all honesty, you had expected Marc’s gruff morning voice to greet you. 

“Why?” You didn’t mean to sound like you were accusing, but the question took you off guard. Steven did a nervous little shrug, setting his tea down. 

“Dunno..just feel like.. We know nothing ‘bout each other, despite everything. Start with the basic questions. What’s your favourite flower, favourite colour, ya know?” He paused, watching you. “It’s a dumb question…I’m-I’m sor-” 

“Tulips. And purple.” You said, cutting him off. The memory of the flower in question and its significance flooded every inch of your body, sparking every nerve ending in the process. It was almost like you could smell that day, the aisle covered in tulip petals and lilac bouquets. You could feel the white silk dress beneath your fingers…and then suddenly you could smell eggs cooking and coffee finishing brewing. 

Steven looked curious, as if he knew you had a whole drawn out answer, but was too scared to ask what it was. He put his empty cereal bowl in the sink before slowly sitting down at the kitchen table, his long fingers trailing the handle of the tea mug. 

“W-why? Can I ask why?” His voice was soft and delicate. Gods, you just melted at that stupid accent, you thought. You used to hate it, mock it, despise it- until you grew to love it. You thought for a moment. You didn’t know if Steven was ready to hear details about Marc’s life- about where his own body might have been without him knowing. You wouldn’t want to know, you thought. It’d be too weird. Changing the subject, your voice faltered a bit as you loaded up your various breakfast foods and a cup of black coffee, bringing it to the table to sit down next to him. 

“What about you? Favorite color at least?” You could see his face get nervously paler, a pang of guilt shooting through your own stomach as you started eating. Did you just scare the poor guy? Did he think he insulted you? You were about to open your mouth to reassure him when he let out a nervous laugh, rubbing his face and taking a sip of tea. 

“I suppose uh.. I suppose orange, I guess. For a goldfish I had back at my flat in London. Though, I suppose he wasn’t really gold- don’t know why they call them that really…” He rambled for a moment, his nervousness making his words speed up and his accent got the tiniest bit thicker. You nodded, taking a sip of coffee and winced at the bitter taste. He looked at you, his melted chocolate eyes wide and innocent. “If I at all offended you, I’m terribly, terribly sorry I just..” You shook your head, cutting him off. 

“It’s fine, I can tell you. I just…didn’t want you to be upset. It’s a Marc memory, after all.” You could see him wince the tiniest bit. You had to remember that this whole world was just as new to him as it was to you. He nodded anyway, taking another drink and swallowing hard. You felt bad in a way, despite how strange this all was. 

“It was uh,” It was your turn to fiddle with the handle of the coffee mug. “It was our wedding. We had tulips at our wedding.” Steven nodded, casting his eyes down a bit before glancing back up to you. 

“Was it a nice memory? The wedding?” 

You paused for a moment, letting every memory of that day fill your brain. After such a rocky start to your dating life, that day was perfect. It was stressful, sure, but what wedding wasn’t? It all felt surreal talking about this to the man you married. Not really the same man, you reminded yourself. Same body, different person. You smiled, the same smile you wore as you walked down the aisle, walking towards Marc as he waited for you. 

“It was. Yeah. I uh…” You took one last bite of your breakfast, getting up and putting the dishes in the sink and striding over to the bookcase in the living room. Steven just watched you, finishing his tea and fiddling with the cold cup. The photo album was inconspicuous, just a plain photo album that was gifted to you a couple of weeks after your wedding. You had hardly looked at it since Marc vanished suddenly. You set it down in front of Steven, flipping it open to the first page. Photos of the empty wedding venue, dolled up and decorated in preparation, yet missing its guests. 

“You got photos then, yeah?” You nodded, sitting back across from him. Steven gently flipped through the photos, bringing a hand to his face and rubbing at it gently. He let out a breathy laugh, running his hands over the pages. His own face stared back at him in a suit, standing next to you in a white satin dress. 

“Bit weird, innit?” He asked out loud, more to himself than you. “All these memories that Marc has…that I don’t.” He let his words go quiet. You watched him carefully, his eyes wide and scanning each photo. 

“Is it what you would have wanted? If you could get married?” It was an odd question for you to be bringing up. Eventually you’d have to wrap your mind around it all. Steven shrugged. 

“Don’t know, really. Never had much luck with the whole dating scene. Missed a couple of dates flat out thanks to ol’ Marc there. I’m just too…nervous. Too Steven.You know,” He gestured to his head, flipping another page in the photo album. “I hadn’t even had a proper kiss. I mean. Obviously this body has, with Marc and you. But me? Not a thing. It seems like it was nice though, nice and…flower-y.” You smiled, leaning on your elbow as you watched him. You brushed aside the thought of him going on a date, again, it was a learning curve for yourself and Marc and Steven. 

“Well I think being too “Steven” has its charms. You’re very sweet, for instance. You listen. That alone could be a selling point.” You pointed out. Steven looked up at you, his eyes wide and his head shaking. 

“No, no I wouldn’t consider myself a selling point. Marc would have a field day if he knew you were complimenting me.” You could almost see him blushing just the slightest bit as he averted his eyes back down to the pictures. He stopped, staring at a photo of you alone in your wedding dress. You could see his eyes wandering up and down the photo. 

“You just.. You look really…beautiful,” He murmured. “I mean here. You look really beautiful here.” You couldn’t help but laugh, your own turn to blush now. 

“Nice save.” You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. Steven was positively beet red now, though his eyes still stayed on the same photo of you. As if he could tell you were watching him, he averted his eyes, glancing around the kitchen before landing on the clock on the microwave. 

“Oh blimey, would you look at the time!” He rushed up, taking the photo album and closing it. “Half past eight O’clock…you’re gonna be late for work if you keep chattering on to little ol’ me.” He practically helped you out of your chair, gathering your purse and jacket and helping you get them on. 

“Steven, really, it’s fine, I enjoy talking to you..” You insisted, still getting your jacket on and fishing your car keys out of your purse. Steven always walked you to the door every morning when he was around; one of the many things you seemed to overlook, until now. Now, it was one of the sweetest gestures - one Marc hadn’t done for you. 

You stopped just outside of the door, turning around to face Steven. He looked adorable in the morning light, bed head and all. Your heart raced as your brain seemed to get the message of what you were about to do across to the rest of your body. Gently you leaned up on the balls of your feet, the flats of your shoes slapping back down to the ground, as you learned up and gently placed your lips to his. Kissing him was like coming home; his lips familiar, his scruff brushing against your chin the way it did on that same wedding night. He still smelled the same, Marc probably had put on his cologne last night before bed. To Steven, however, it must have felt foreign and wrong. Kissing Marc’s wife. Even still, he put his hands gently on your waist, keeping his hands still as he relaxed a bit. You rested your head against his forehead for a moment before pulling away, smiling up at him gently. You could taste the tea on his lips.

“It’s not the same, I guess, but I hope that crosses one thing off your list of ‘haven’t hads’.” You turned away, giving him one last smile as you took in his gobsmacked expression. 

“I uh yeah. Yep. Y-you have a good day at work, yeah? You..I uh.. Th-thank you!” He called out, watching you as you got into your car. 

⁂

Work had drawn out longer than you had expected. You were sore, tired, and in desperate need of a shower. The house was dark when you got home, and you had presumed that either Marc had gone out to do whatever he did when you weren’t around, or he was asleep. Or Steven was asleep. Either way, it seemed you were alone for the night. Sighing, you put your purse on the side table and locked the door behind you, running your hands over your face as you could practically feel the grime of the day settling on you. A hot bath and a long sleep was in order, you thought. 

Making your way to the kitchen, you struggled to find the light switch on the wall, taking a few seconds to pat around the wall blindly before snapping on the light. When it turned on, it revealed both a sticky note, telling you that your dinner was in the microwave- signed by Marc- and a vase of flowers, with a sticky note signed by Steven on the edge of it. 

A vase of tulips, to be exact. Purple ones.