a/n: i feel that it might be unwise to start another one of these while in the midst of two others.

i've wanted to write a pastel/punk au for quite a while, actually

phil's pov

I kicked open the door of my tattoo parlor, storming in and slamming it behind me. I had never been a morning person, but this was just ridiculous.

I had woken up with a bit of a hangover, which would have been tolerable if I hadn't made it ten times worse by rolling out of bed and slamming my head on the ground. Seeking sweet relief from last night's mistakes, I stumbled into the kitchen to make my usual cup of coffee. Within minutes it was a puddle on the floor, ceramic chunks scattered beneath (and in) my feet.

After cleaning up both my injuries and my kitchen floor, I was in a pretty foul mood. This only worsened when I stepped outside my apartment and realized I had locked my keys in.

After the painstakingly long process of contacting the landlord for a spare, I was finally on my way to work.

The drive wasn't much better—despite it being early in the morning, a wreck on one of the main roads caused traffic to be an absolute nightmare. I like to consider myself a relatively calm and collected driver, but I wasn't in the mood to put up with some shitty driver trying to pass me on a narrow, crowded road.

After everything that happened to me this morning, it was only natural that I was a bit pissed to find out one of my employees didn't restock the fridge like I asked them too.

"Is it really too much to ask that someone restock a fucking fridge?" I muttered angrily to myself, throwing my bags into my office. As someone who usually doesn't get enough sleep, energy drinks had become my way of getting through the day, particularly days like this. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, glancing at the time. I still had ten minutes until I needed to open... surely that would be enough time to run down to the store. Grumbling quietly to myself, I locked back up and hurried down the sidewalk.

…

It was only once I got to the store that I realized there was no way I would make it back in time.

The actual process of going down an aisle and grabbing a case of Monster took under a minute. Checking out took about ten, due to the ridiculously long line.

By the time I got out of the convenience store, I was practically sprinting back to my shop. I was only a block or so away from my destination when the universe decided I hadn't suffered enough; the thin cardboard box that held the cans ripped open, sending them everywhere.

I swore loudly, earning myself a glare from several middle-aged women. Why the hell had I not asked for a bag? I wondered, frantically trying to shove the cans back into the mutilated box.

I could hear the sound of footsteps growing closer and closer to me as I scrambled to gather my belongings.

"Please go away," I thought desperately. "Please go away. Please go away. Please go away. Please go—"

"Excuse me?"

I closed my eyes, sighing deeply. "Can I help you?" I spat, spinning around to glare at the silhouette of whatever poor soul had the misfortune of running into me on this particular morning.

"Oh um..." The young adult looming above me was rather soft-spoken, and I was straining to hear what he was saying. "You're—" The rest of what he said was lost in the sound of oncoming traffic.

"What?" I asked rudely, causing him to flinch a little.

"I-I said you're kinda sitting in front of my shop and I need to open up..." He held up a key ring, twirling it around his finger.

"Oh." I felt my face heat up, "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Oh, and you dropped this." He handed me a dented can as I stood up, getting out of his way.

"Thanks," I muttered, shoving the can into the half-torn box.

"I could um, I could get you a bag for that?" The man offered, looking skeptically at the mangled cardboard remains in my arms.

"That would be amazing," I replied, following him into the small shop.

It was only upon entering that I realized I was in Spring Morning, a small flower shop down the road from my own tattoo parlor.

"I'm Dan, by the way, Dan Howell," the florist turned around, giving me a small smile.

It wasn't until now that I had actually gotten a chance to take in his appearance. He was a bit shorter than I was, probably a bit younger as well, and had a thin frame. He was wearing a pair of pastel pink skinny jeans with a sloppily tucked-in white t-shirt. To top off his look, a cherry blossom flower crown was perched delicately on his head, bringing out his soft, brown eyes and curly, dark hair. To put it simply, he was cute.

"I'm Phil Lester, I run the tattoo parlor down the street, the Black Needle." I smiled, somehow managing to shift my groceries to stick out an arm.

Dan shook my hand, giving me a polite grin. "I'll go get your bag," He said, hurrying off into the backroom.

I took the time of his absence to examine the little store. The floor was a checkered black and white pattern, pairing nicely with the pastel green walls. Row upon row of brightly colored flowers surrounded the shop, holding everything from common flowers like tulips and daisies to bizarre plants I had never seen before. A wall of multicolored roses sat behind the cash register; even from a good ten feet away I could smell their delicate aroma.

I was intently examining a small cactus when Dan came back into the main room, a pink, canvas bag in his hand. "Here you go."

"Thanks, love," I sighed with relief, dropping the load of cans into the bag.

Dan's cheeks turned pink. "No problem. You can just drop it off some time, I guess…"

I grinned and nodded. "As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I'm nearly half an hour late for work. Though, I'll definitely stop by later." I winked, making my way to the door.

Dan smiled, averting his gaze.

Perhaps this was the universe's way of apologizing.

a/n: what do you guys think so far? I hope you like it!