From: anon

45. “I said two, not twenty-two!”

Rated T for implied (but not actual) and language

        Himchan’s never gardened a day in his life. Which is why he is, to say the least, surprised when he opens his front door on a late-July Sunday morning to a porch-full of burlap-wrapped saplings.

        He had been expecting the newspaper (much as his friends for reading the Sunday morning paper at the age of 26), but, well. His face is the epitome of horrified confusion, especially enunciated by the way his un-groomed hair stands awry in a mess atop his head, curling around the temples of the glasses he only wears one day a week.

        He gently closes the door and pulls out his phone, opening his contact list. He knows who’s responsible for this.

        There’s no answer.

        He calls again.

        And again. Finally, after five more rings:

        “This better be important.”

        Daehyun sounds out of breath, and Himchan wonders why he was working out at such an early hour of the morning. “Oh, it is,” he quips. “I can’t get past my front porch.”

        “And this is my problem because…?”

        “No, not your problem,” Himchan corrects, leaning back on his kitchen counter, “your fault.”

        Daehyun exhales exasperatedly from the other end and then groans, but the sound is more distant, as if he’s holding the phone away from his face. “Can’t this wait? I’m trying to… finish… something…”

        “No,” Himchan snaps. “I want to know why there are twenty-two trees on my front porch!”

        “Oh, that was me. It’s your gift for–Wait, twenty-two? I swear I only ordered two…,” then, more muffled: “Wait, wait a sec, let me clear my name–”

        There’s a small scuffle from the other side of the phone, and Himchan reaches for his coffee with a sigh. He just doesn’t understand this boy.

        “Talk to you later, Himchan,”

        This is a new voice. Himchan almost spits out his coffee.

        “Jongup? What are–my god, I swear, if you picked up the phone in the middle of–”

        “Bye!”

        “Wait! How do I get rid of these trees?!” Himchan shouts, spilling a bit of coffee onto his slippers and kicking them off as it seeps through the fabric and burns his skin.

        “ you, Jung Daehyun!” He hollers into the receiver, hoping Daehyun can hear him.

        “Will do, Himchan.”

        The line goes dead, and Himchan pulls it away from his face, staring at the dark screen.

        “I heard we’re yelling at Daehyun again?” Himchan turns to see Yongguk poking his head out from their bedroom.

        “Yes. Yes, we are very much yelling at Daehyun,” Himchan grumbles, and Yongguk makes his way into the room, taking Himchan’s mug from his hand and stealing a sip.

        “What’d he do this time?”