How did he end up here?

That's a pretty good question.

In fact, he's kind of been asking himself the same thing for the past several minutes.

See, Jimin has never been good at relationships.

One night stands? Sure. Getting drunk and making out with some hot girl - or sometimes a hot guy - in the bathroom at a party? Sign him up.

But the whole holding hands, going out on dinner dates, staying together for more than a week without skin to skin contact kind of thing - it's never really been his forte.

So, the question is, how exactly did he end up here, standing in front of the door of a quaint little flower shop, with tiny windows, brick walls and a faded welcome mat?

Granted, some of his friends have never been lenient on him in the relationship department. They've always about his childish inability to stay, and some have even gone as far as scolding him for it. And it's never really gotten to him before.

Before her, that is.

And so, here he stands.

He clears his throat, fumbling with his keys in the pocket of his jeans to create some background noise. It's so weirdly quiet down here - a peace that he's not used to - and it makes him feel a bit uneasy.

Alright, just go in already, he tells himself. You're wasting your time.

Finally, after several minutes of useless contemplation, he forces his hand to reach for the golden doorknob, twisting it and pushing open the door to be met with the sound of a jingling little bell and the overwhelming scent of springtime.

And although it takes him a moment to process what he's seeing as he steps inside, to say the least, it's been a while since he's been so shocked.

Not even all the way through the door yet, his eyes are flooded with colors; soft whites and powder pinks, pale yellows and vibrant purples, and whether it's the tiny blooms or large, extravagant flowers with friendly petals spilling outwards from their stems, every single one looks inviting and filled with life.

He doesn't think he's ever seen a place so filled with flowers in his entire life. Needless to say, he's beyond impressed.

The only thing is, when he glances around in amazement, searching for the person who's responsible for creating a sight as flawless as this one, his eyes are only able to find an empty counter in the far right corner of the shop, half-hidden by a large arrangement of pink and purple blooms.

The only thing his ears can catch is the soft purring of a cat coming from somewhere or other, and he stands there to puzzle for a moment, eyebrows knitting together.

Is nobody here?

Taking into account the silence and the fact that in a shop this small, he's sure he'd be able to see any company if he had it, it definitely seems that way.

But that can't be right, can it? The little sign in the window had told him otherwise, and the lights in here are on. Not to mention that the door was unlocked.

Tentatively glancing around as if he were there for less innocent reasons, he makes his way over to the counter, searching for a sign of even a single person, and one thing he does notice when he plants his feet there is that there's a door-less doorway behind the counter, hidden partly by a tattered mauve curtain.

It looks like it leads back into a small, darkened room separate from the rest of the shop, and although he can't really see past the curtain, he supposes that unless this place really is deserted, the only other place someone could be is in there.

This is my best bet.

"Hello?" he calls out, ducking down a bit to try and see under the curtain, but to no avail.

He waits patiently, listening to the soft purr of the hidden sleeping cat and the sound of a car driving by outside.

About twenty empty seconds pass by, and he's starting to wonder if he really is by himself when finally, he hears the creaking of what sounds like a computer chair.

"Hello?" he tries again, glad to hear a sign of a person's presence after all this time.

Once again, he gets no response, but he can hear somebody that's definitely not the cat yawning and stretching from behind the curtain, and so he continues to wait.

And when the curtain is slowly pulled away to reveal the person he'd been looking for, Jimin wonders how many times he's going to be surprised today.

It's a boy. Small and probably around his age if not just a few years older. He has jet black hair that looks like someone had playfully ruffled it just to bug him, and he blinks sleepily as he shuffles into the open, placing a hand on the counter to support his weight, which just cannot be much.

Well...

I was expecting pretty much anything but this.

And on top of the fact that this teeny flower shop is actually run by a tired college boy, Jimin had been expecting an apology from the guy, or at least a greeting of some sort, so when he doesn't get either of those things and instead receives only a groggy stare, he feels a little uncomfortable.

"Uh...hi," he mutters, trying to crack a polite smile so he can hopefully have the gesture returned to him.

Which doesn't happen. The boy just stays silent.

Jimin clears his throat awkwardly, obligatory smile wiped from his face. "So, um," he begins, sticking his hand back into his pocket so he can fidget with his keys. This dude's stare is kind of off-putting. It's hard to think coherently when he's looking at him like that.

"Okay. So I like this girl, right?" he tells him simply. Might as well get straight to the point. "We're not the closest, but she's really nice. She's outgoing, super artsy, though she's not that confident in herself. And I just want to get to know her better."

The boy just gives him a lazy nod, black hair falling in his eyes, and Jimin briefly wonders if he's listening at all. "So anyways," he continues rather slowly, trying to figure out what the stranger is thinking, "I thought I'd do something nice for her to sort of...woo her, I guess? To let her know I like her a lot."

Another lazy nod.

Jimin wishes he had a way to tell if he's actually absorbing any of this, but he presses on. "The thing is, I know literally nothing about flowers except that girls like them," he explains, shrugging his shoulders. "So I was wondering if I could get some advice, you know?"

With no change of expression or heart, the raven-haired stranger blinks, taking a glance around the shop at the many arrangements that Jimin wonders if he'd made himself; the guy seems kind of lazy if you ask him.

Then, finally, Jimin can see his lips parting to form what he assumes are going to be words. Well, he hopes he'll get that much, at least.

There's an almost cinematic kind of buildup, because apparently there's this rusty lag between the time the stranger can open his mouth and the time he can think of what to say.

Then, finally, in a low, gravelly voice, he mutters, "Come back in fifteen minutes."

And then, just like that, he turns around, going right back behind the old curtain and into the dark room from where he'd come.

Bewildered, Jimin scoffs quietly to himself. That's it? That's all you've got to say to me? I just confided in you.

"Right," he mutters dubiously, staring as he listens to the sounds of this strange kid shuffling around in the dark. "Fifteen minutes," he repeats.

Now, mind you, usually if something like this were to happen to him, he would have just left for good, not giving the person another thought. He's not the most patient guy ever, he has to admit.

But this time, for some odd reason, he hears this voice in the back of his mind, whispering for him to do what he was told. Maybe it's partly because he's getting these flowers in an effort to become a more humble, kind person. Or maybe it's the fact that this weirdo intrigues him.

Either way, far beyond the less patient side of him, he finds himself once again standing in front of the little shop almost thirty minutes later; admittedly, he'd taken a good stroll around the block for another fifteen minutes just to spite the kid.

Even so, he feels kind of pathetic coming back.

A sigh of defeat overtakes him, and he anxiously fidgets with his keys some more. This feels really dumb. He feels really dumb, but nonetheless, his curiosity gets the best of him, and he gives in within minutes, pushing the door open to walk inside.

And when he does, he doesn't regret listening to his conscious.

Now sitting like royalty on the counter is a large bouquet - all pale pink lilies, white roses and bright yellow tulips, arranged neatly and carefully by hand.

Jimin isn't really sure what to say. Not that there's anyone to say it to, (the quiet stranger is probably behind the curtain again) but he hasn't seen something so pretty in a long time.

Wow. Maybe I shouldn't have thought badly of him so soon.

The sounds of his footsteps bounce off of the walls as he walks back towards the counter, and he feels like the petals are watching him, whispering and gossiping to each other. He bites his lip, unable to face them.

That, oddly enough, turns out to be a big mistake. Because moments later, he flinches, teeth clamping down hard in surprise when he feels something brush up against his leg.

With a brand new front-teeth mark in his bottom lip, his head jerks down to find the culprit, which turns out to be a cat with short fur the color of rainclouds. And then something occurs to him.

Oh. This must be the cat I heard earlier.

The small creature mewls up at him, green eyes pleading for his attention, and he can't help but crack a little smile, though his lip still hurts a good deal (did he draw blood?). He reaches down to scratch behind its ears.

Purring, the cat pushes its head into his touch, and he continues scratching down from its back to its tail.

A little distracted now, he lowers himself to the floor and sits down next to the cat, who turns around once his fingers reach its tail so he can start petting and scratching its head again. Jimin thinks it might just fall asleep in bliss.

"Hey, dude," he calls out towards the back room as the cat curls up on the floor by his thigh, snuggling into him like it's known him for years. Jimin likes animals in general, but usually cats hate his guts, so this is a pleasant surprise.

It takes a minute for him to hear any movement, but eventually, the creak of a computer chair sounds out into the shop again, and moments later, the tired boy with the disheveled hair peeks his head out from behind the curtain, giving him a questioning look.

"Your cat really likes me," he remarks, pointing to the purring feline curled up by his leg. "Better make sure he doesn't sneak out with me when I go," he adds, smiling.

Without the slightest change of expression, the guy just nods again, and Jimin face-palms internally.

Probably should've known a joke would go right over his head.

He plants his palms on the white tile floor, pushing himself back up onto his feet so he can walk to the counter like he'd done before. "So, you made this?" he questions, gesturing to the bouquet set out carefully on the counter-top.

Another nod. He sure does nod a lot. And he often shuts his dark eyes when he does it. Jimin's not sure why he noticed that.

"Gotcha," he replies, taking another glance at all of the extravagant arrangements in the shop. This boy may look lazy, but he sure does know his flowers.

"What does it cost?" Jimin then adds cautiously, realizing from the looks of it that the bouquet probably costs a fortune. That is, a fortune for a broke college kid like himself who sometimes has trouble getting his three meals a day.

Dammit. Why didn't I think of this before?

Just as he's having sudden second thoughts, though, the sleepy stranger behind the counter looks him directly in the eyes.

"On the house," he says without even blinking. And with that, he turns right back around and disappears behind the mauve curtain once again.

Jimin just stands there for a while, speechless.

What in the world would make him give Jimin something like this for free? They're total strangers to each other after all, and it's not like he'd done anything that deserved an honorable mention.

Of course, he's not complaining or anything, but he feels kind of bad now.

He blinks down at the bouquet with uncertainty. Should he call out to him again? Get him back out here and insist that he pay at least something? This looks like an awfully expensive bouquet to just accept for free.

But then again, that might be more of a bother to the shy stranger than if he just leaves things as they are now.

And so, that day, he leaves the flower shop part excited, part confused, and also with the slightest tinge of curiosity at the back of his mind.