Butea Monosperma; leaves are pinnate, flowers are 2.5 centimetres long and bright-orange red, produced in racemes up to 15 centimetres long.

Butea Monosperma, otherwise known as The Flame of the Forest.

Dog-earing the yellowed pages of his father's herbarium  a lifetime's dedication and pride  Sunggyu closes the book; his fingers still lingering on the faded name stenciled in gold on its leathered cover, its hems battered of age. It was time for his medication. 

Sighing, a habit he's only recently adopted, the brunette stood up and padded over to his dresser; smoothing one unruly tuft that's left sticking up he knew would take ages to tame. His whole head were. It had been a rough night but Sunggyu was never one to fear nightly terrors  he's had them plenty  though it wasn't neccessarily easy to be shaken off either. Jibberish, he used to call it, and yet.

"Sunggyu, we're already late. Are you up yet?"

"Five more minutes, please?" he would say, grunting. His annoyance of his mother's call merely semblanced because he knew that had always lured her into his mischiefs. One being him scaring the lights out of his mother one rainy morning when he jumped out behind the door prior to her entrance; a white sheet draped over his little self. A classic yet she'd still fall for it everytime.

"Kim Sunggyu! My heavens, do not do that!" she would say, he recalled. This is when he'd topple over in giggles, wheezing out the words gotcha mummy! Gotcha! His mother knew better than to let him off this time but she did so regardless, scooping him into her arms and tickling little Sunggyu senseless. His mother's laughter were that of bell chimes on cozy, breezy afternoons  melded with his own--and he loved that best, missed it even more so. It's been exactly 14 years since then. Since her passing. Sunggyu huffed, a sad smile on his lips acknowledging an always welcomed memory. Gazing into his reflection in the mirror, his sinuses stung with the nostalgia of it all. Don't you dare cry, he reprimanded himself. Afterall, big boys don't cry, do they? Especially 21 year olds. His mother wouldn't have agreed though. "You'd always be my little boy," she would've said.

He quickly showered and went through his morning assemblage of whites and greys and other colours he wishes were nonexistent hanged neatly in his wardrobe; though it was hardly neccessary since he'd almost always preferred white over anything else; and soon afterwards, began his descent downstairs and towards the main door. He was terribly late. His doctor would be used to it by now just as much as Sunggyu would his unamused face the minute he'd checked in with the nurse.

"Sunggyu-ya, you're off already?"

"I wouldn't be but Won-nim would make me stay there the whole week, which is stupid. God forbid."

"You'd best be off then. Send my regards."

"You're not coming?