For some reason, Chanyeol’s words made me feel oddly calm. As he started squeezing his poor shirt to death, I felt my heart calm down.

“I’m sure he hasn’t left for good,” I said kindly, attempting to smile. Chanyeol looked at me with suspicious eyes.

“He’s not staying with you, is he?” he suddenly asked, very gawkily cracking his knuckles. I heard him wince.

“I have no idea where he is,” I said, “but sometimes people need space.”

“You swear you haven’t taken advantage of him?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. I rolled my eyes, and turned towards the door. Chanyeol yelped and tripped over his own feet in his attempt to follow me. Once we were both safely in the café, he sat in the boy’s regular spot and resumed his interrogation.

“How long have you known him?” Chanyeol demanded, putting his fist on the table. I ignored him, and set a menu down in front of him. He gave it a quick glance and pointed to a ridiculously sweet drink. Inwardly, I made a face at his strange taste. Leaving him to his mindless babbling, I started preparing his drink. Every few seconds, I would sneak a look at the clock. By the time I had finished slowly assembling his drink, it was getting late and the streetlights outside had come on. Even then, Chanyeol still hadn’t stopped talking, and I was tempted to duct tape his mouth shut. As I set the drink in front of him, I heard the tinkle of the bell. Timidly, I looked up, and had to hide a smile when I saw that it was the boy.

“You little idiot!” Chanyeol roared, standing up. “How could you leave me without saying anything?” The boy looked at me confusedly and then walked up to Chanyeol.

“Move,” he said tonelessly. “You’re in my seat.” Chanyeol looked outraged and immediately launched into a long winded tangent.

“You’re an ungrateful urchin,” Chanyeol said, ticking off on his fingers the number of offences the boy had apparently committed. “You just packed up and left. Didn’t you consider how hurt I would be?”

“I didn’t move out,” the boy snapped. He asked me for a latte, and then turned back to Chanyeol. “I just moved into the guest room. You told me the other day your friend was staying with us for a while.”

“I-I did?” Chanyeol said, slowing down to an understandable rate. His face scrunched up in concentration. “Oh, yeah. Baekhyun’s coming in a few days.” The boy sighed in annoyance.

“You’re such an idiot,” he said, turning his attention to the latte I had just set down in front of him.

“I feed you, clothe you, and house you. Is this how you repay your gratitude?” Chanyeol blubbered, as he nearly knocked over his own drink. Luckily, I steadied his cup just in time.

“You also whip my when I pay rent late,” the boy said dryly, wiping his mouth on a napkin.  “I also happen to be the one who feeds you, does your laundry, and gets you out of trouble with your messed up girlfriends.”

As they continued to bicker, I was taken aback by the boy’s expressiveness; he seemed so open and carefree with Chanyeol. Slightly dejected, I wondered if he would ever be that open with me.

“Why are you here anyways?” the boy asked.

“I might have followed you here once or twice,” Chanyeol stuttered, fidgeting a little. When the boy glared at him, Chanyeol paled and self-consciously coughed.

“I was just trying to protect your innocence!” Chanyeol protested. He turned to glare at me. “You don’t know what girls are like nowadays!”

“You’ve been watching those Korean dramas of yours again, haven’t you?”

“Says the boy who still reads manga!”

“I swear, if you say one more word, you’re going to be cooking your own food from now on.”

Chanyeol finally shut up, and started looking from me to the boy nervously.

“I think I need to use the washroom,” he said hastily, pushing his chair in. The boy and I were left in a silence made slightly awkward by our earlier run in at the hospital.

“You seem to enjoy daisies,” the boy noted, breaking the silence. His mouth tightened slightly, but relaxed just as quickly. “Daisies are flowers of the innocents, pure and sweet.”

“I grow them for a friend,” I said carefully, watching his expression. His eyes darkened and for a moment, he scared me.

“How thoughtful of you,” he quipped, daring me to say something.

“You dropped something today,” I said, as his eyes widened fractionally. I pulled out his daisy from the counter drawer and placed it in his hand.

“Thank you,” he said, in a controlled voice that only betrayed the slightest hint of anger. He turned to leave. My heart plunged, and I had to stop myself from grabbing his arm.

“Wait,” I called out, running from around the counter. “I need to ask you something.”

“What?” he ground out harshly, as he whirled around.

“What is your favorite flower?” I asked, in a voice that could barely be heard. He softened and his eyes met mine.

“The anemone,” he said, “the flower that closes its buds to rain.” With that, he left the café, and I watched him go. When Chanyeol ran out of the bathroom seconds later, I said nothing to him either.

The next time the boy came by, a single anemone was on the counter.