Greenhouse || Xavier Thorpe x Male Reader

fiddle-leaf fig || chapter 15

 The cold air feels like nails on my skin as I walk to my greenhouse. When I step inside, the humidity and heat covers me like a blanket. I hang my jacket and scarf on a stand and walk over to the wildflowers. They look good, so I move them from the work table to the table in the back. I think the ground will begin to thaw in March, and I'll definetely have seeds by then.

After all the hybrid plants are moved, I water the other ones and prune off the dead branches. The greenhouse looks empty without the rows upon rows of plants that I sold, so I begin to visualize what I want it to look like. A row of tropical plants, some roses, and a small tree bloom in my mind. When I open my eyes again, a line of roses and a few assorted tropical plants sit in the pots in front of me.

A gust of wind from the door being opened causes me to jump. I turn around and see Xavier hurridly closing the door.

"Sorry about that. I hope there wasn't too much winter air that got in," he says, hanging up his coat. "You said you don't like the cold."

"It's fine. The little bit of fresh air won't hurt anyone," I respond.

He walks over and looks at the new rows of plants. "I wanted to see what you were doing with the place now that everything but the wildflowers was cleared out."

"I'm trying to grow these new plants purely through visualization and not through emotion. It's harder but doesn't take as much energy surprisigly," I explain. He nods.

"Well, you're doing a good job. In a week or so, I'll bet the entire thing will be full with greenery."

"I hope it will. Never thought I'd miss the abnormal amount of roses and orchids, but here we are."

"Have you grown tropical plants before?" Xavier asks, running a hand over the leaves of a bird of paradise.

"Not really," I admit. "But some are pretty easy to grow."

"I'd probably kill it if I attempted to grow any sort of tropical plant," he sighs.

I smile. "Well, I'm not exactly a master artist, so it balances out."

"Speaking of art," Xavier begins, "would you mind keeping me company in the art shed? I want to work on a project but don't want to be by myself."

~=~

After a quick stop in the dorms so I can get a warmer jacket, I follow Xavier to the shed. Since Outreach Day, he's replenished the stock of paintings he sold. I recognize his sketch of the dream on a larger canvas, colored this time. It's even better than the sketch. I also see the painting of us with the void background hanging on a wall. The colors have been blended more, and it looks beautiful.

I sit on a chair and watch as he unfolds a piece of paper and balances it on the bottom of his easel, leaning against a canvas. He takes a pencil and begins to draw an outline, occasionally glancing at the paper for reference. The lines begin to take shape, forming two smiling people, hand in hand, scarves fluttering in the wind behind them. I recognize it as us from this morning, ice skating on the frozen lake.

Xavier begins to paint, filling the background with blues and whites. He finishes the flat colors with relative ease before stepping back and holding up the sketch.

"[Y/N], what do you think? I still need to shade it and add some details," he asks. I walk over to him and kiss him on the cheek.

"It's beautiful. And it hasn't taken too much time, either," I respond, checking my watch. "Do you want to take a break, or do you have to shade before the paint dries?"

He stretches backwards before walking back to the canvas. "I probably don't have to shade now, but it would be better for the overall quality if I did."

I sit down again and he continues to add layers of color onto the painting, a white sun in the background, or more fringe on the scarves. Their cheeks get a rosy tint, be it blush or from the cold, and their eyes are sparkling, reflections of the sun. It's such a vivid painting, one would almost imagine it came from a vision projected onto the canvas. But it's not from a vision. It's from a recent memory.

The time ticks by as Xavier adds more and more depth and detail to the canvas. When he finally sets down the paintbrush, it's easily been four hours. He lifts his hand, and the painting comes to life, the snow falling down around the two of us in the painting as we skate over the frozen lake. I can almost hear the conversation and the laughter spilling out of the canvas.

"Hey," he begins, putting a hand on my shoulder, "You okay?"

"Of course I am. I'm just... admiring your work," I tell him. He chuckles.

"Well, it's getting pretty late and I don't want you to get too cold, so let's head back to the dorms. I'll bring the painting up once it's dry," he says. I nod and follow him out of the shed.

~=~

When the alarm wakes me up the next morning, Xavier is gone. Chances are, he's in his shed or on a run, so I change and leave as well. The greenhouse is as warm and inviting as always, and the wildflowers are bonding together nicely. I water the plants and kneel in front of a larger pot, focusing on the image of a fiddle-leaf fig. A relatively easy to grow tree, but still one that contributes to the 'tropics' feel of the greenhouse.

The small tree seems to have been plucked from my mind when I open my eyes. It's the first tree I've ever grown using purely my abilities, and even though once I look more closely I can see the imperfections caused by that factor, it's almost perfect. But that's just beginner's luck. I know once I try again, it will be harder and less perfect.

"Well, that's new," a familiar voice whispers softly against my ear. I jump.

"Good morning to you too, Xavier. How did you get in?" I ask. He points to the door, smirking.

"Left your door unlocked," he tells me. "I took the liberty of locking it for you. Don't want people just walking in."

I get up and walk over to where he stands. "So, what do you think of the tree?"

"It's great! I don't think you've ever grown a tree before, right?"

"No, I haven't. I'm pretty proud of it for a first attempt, but I want to grow more complex trees in the future," I explain. "So, what are you doing here, anyways? Not that I don't want you here..."

"I'd say I was just here because I missed you, but that would give me extreme deja vu," he jokes.

"So basically, you're here to disrupt my work and/or make out with me," I say.

He shrugs. "Pretty much."

"Well, I'm afraid that will have to wait," I inform him. "The work table is occupied by gardening tools, and the back table has wildflowers."

"Who said anything about tables?"

"I did, because there's only glass, plants, and tables in here. Which renders your plan failed, unless you help me organize my tools. I just got them in Jericho the other day."

"If you insist on that, there won't be any time left before Botany," Xavier complains. I shrug.

"Lunch. Or Club Period. Wednesday's skipped Beekeeping so many times, it won't matter if I don't show up once," I tell him. He shudders and shakes his head, walking over to the tool-covered work table.

"Not taking chances with the Beekeeping club. They'll put two and two together and kick down the greenhouse door," he says. "I'll just hope there's time left after we organize the tools."

to my favorite writing coach: charge your phone you're getting spammed tomorrow

to everyone else: i couldn't think enough to write another scene so here you go, a promise for tomorrow's update.