Greenhouse || Xavier Thorpe x Male Reader

plant tags || chapter 22

 Xavier sits by the work table, sketching something with a piece of paper I found on a shelf and a pencil he keeps in his pocket.

Click. Click. Click.

The small flashes of white every time I take another picture paired with the sound of the shutter were distracting to him at first, but now he just ignores it. Snow is still pattering on the roof of the greenhouse, blocking the natural light.

Click. Click. Click.

I move methodically from plant to plant, pausing only to turn on another light if necessary. The film is almost used up and I'm also nearly finished with my plants, so I plan to go into Jericho once the snow melts a bit and get them developed.

"[Y/N]," Xavier begins, looking up from his sketch, "You do know these snowstorms can last a few hours, right?"

Click. Click. Click.

"Yeah. That's why we're in here. I can use those few hours to work," I explain. He gets up from his chair and begins to walk around.

"What if we get stuck in here, though?" he frets, running his fingers through his hair.

I shrug. "We won't. The snow won't get that tall."

Click. Click. Click.

"How are you still just working? Don't you need a break?"

"Nah. I'm almost finished, anyway, so I can take a break then."

"It doesn't count as a break if you're done."

"Yes it does."

Click. Click. Click.

"I'm finished. Zamioculcas zamiifolia, or ZZ plant. Native to parts of Africa," I say to myself, turning off the camera and slipping it back into my bag.

"Do you list the names of all these plants in your head after you take their picture?" Xavier asks, smiling. "That's adorable. I can't believe you memorized them all, though."

"It's easy enough once you grow them. I also have little tags," I inform him. He walks over and looks at the base of the plant, sure enough, there's a small tag reading 'Zamioculas zamiifolia'.

"How have I not noticed this yet?" he remarks. I shrug.

"Maybe you didn't look close enough. They're pretty easy to miss," I reply. He begins to move to the other plants, trying to find the little tags. I watch with a smile as he darts around like a child on Easter, looking for the hidden surprises. Except instead of plastic (or real) eggs, he's looking for plant tags.

Click. Click. Click.

"Hey," he protests, "stop taking pictures of me like some obsessed mother."

I lower the camera. "Sorry! It's just so fun to watch you run around my greenhouse searching for tags on plants."

"It's just interesting. I never knew what kinds of leaves you were growing in here, even though it's always been so much more organized than my shed," he explains.

"Your shed may be the most disorganized place I've ever seen," I agree. Xavie puts a hand on his heart and turns away.

"You wound me."

I chuckle. "Apologies for maiming you with the blade of truth."

"You can make up for it by telling me where the tag is on this plant," he suggests, standing next to a Eucalyptus delglupta, or a rainbow Eucalyptus. I walk over and find the tag instantly.

"Right here. Kind of in an odd location, but it's been stapled to the trunk. It's like that for most of the trees."

He gets up from his kneeling position on the floor and reads the tag. "Whatever would I do without you?"

"Not have a boyfriend with plant tags, that's what you'd do," I tell him. "What a miserable life that would be."

"You don't have a boyfriend with plant tags," he points out.

"I AM the boyfriend with plant tags," I say. "Why are we talking about my lack of a plant-tagging boyfriend?"

"I asked what I'd do without you," he reminds me.

I nod. "Right. I can't hear the snow on the roof and the walls aren't blocked, so I imagine it's stopped snowing. Want to see if we can get to the dorms?"

"Yes. I love the greenhouse, but I'm running out of plant tags to find and I've used up all the paper."

~=~

The snow is only a minor inconvenience, and we manage to get to the dorms without much hassle. It's only once we arrive that I realize this snow has probably killed my wildflowers by the beekeeping hut. I'll have to see if I can coax them back to life.

We take turns in the bathroom, showering and changing into warmer clothes. The snowfall has resumed again, and I watch the roof below our window get covered in even thicker layers of snow. Since our room is relatively high up, I can see the majority of campus out of the window as well as the roof of the dorm below us. Some students went outside, thinking the snow was over, and are currently scurrying around like small hamsters on a wheel.

I walk over to our cardboard box filled with various records and leaf through the cases, settling for the Everybody Wants to Rule the World record I bought a few years ago. The opening notes echo throughout the room and I close my eyes. It's a tune that reminds me of my father's obsession with 1980s music, always playing it in his classes before the accident that sent me to Nevermore. The bathroom door creaks open, and I open my eyes again and walk to my bed.

"I should have known Tears for Fears would grace this room at some point," Xavier sighs, drying off his hair.

"I can't tell whether or not that's sarcasm or genuine interest in the music," I respond jokingly. He smirks. "Oh, never mind. It's sarcasm."

He walks over to me and leans against the wall by my bed. "Payback for calling my shed disorganized."

"But you called it disorganized first," I protest.

"It's my shed. I get the negative adjectives for it."

"Fair. You can also change the music once the song ends, if it's that bad."

"Keep your 80s music on, it's not too terrible. I'll just sketch some random people in legwarmers carrying around jukeboxes, then," he jokes.

"Jukeboxes were the 50s," I correct him. "Boomboxes were more 80s."

He laughs and sits down at his desk. "[Y/N], if I really wanted to draw something accurate to a certain decade, I'd just ask the vampires."