Wasn't it heaven? Wasn't it bliss when they saw each other? Was is a miracle? Was it magic? No, of course not. Coincidental, most likely. How tight had the blindfold been around thier eyes? They worked right next to each other, how can you miss that?
    Of course, shifts have been different, for Taehyun's job he didn't need to be open such hours, unlike Minho. It was funny, actually, how they met. Their occupations were so different, but alike. They were artists, they worked with their hands. There were only so many ways one can express meaning through beauitful flowers of strange colors and many ways at the same time. There were so many possibilites of how to express your story through permanent pictures of which could be seen all the time. They were different, but they were perfect.
    It was when Taehyun ended up inside Minho's shop, and he caught his attention right away. What was a boy like Taehyun doing inside a tattoo parlor at 10 at night? Oh well.
    Minho had found out that he worked next door after some small talk, and writing some words on the inside of his upper left arm. He can't remember what it said.
    Taehyun was so beautiful to Minho. His hair was the perfect length, although his parents pestered him to cut it, but he didn't. Some said a florist wasn't real art, but Minho begged to differ, it was art in its own ways, so was Taehyun. Minho thought the flowers were beautiful, both faux and real. It matched his persona. He compared to a flower, he thought. Beautiful to look at, beautiful to the touch.
    Minho was something else, to Taehyun, really. Some people are artists. Others are art themselves. Nothing about his sleeve and back tattoos seemed too much, it was perfect, if it weren't for the one painting in the gallery, then there was no point. It never bothered Minho about what other people thought of him and how he looked, Taehyun thought that was his best feature. In contrast to the expanse of colors of what seemed to be lines and lines of words forming musical notes and notes turning to knives, probably had to do something with any problem of his past but Taehyun never asked, it was just beautiful, he had one single piercing on his face, the bottom lip, right side. It was just a black stud, he didn't take it out. He had said he didn't like altering his face, but he just like a look that was a bit different. His ears were pierced however, Taehyun didn't know that was possible to have so many in one ear. Most people found him a distraction, outcast, problematic, scary, violent, whatever. But to Taehyun, he was beautiful. Just beautiful.
    They liked to talk about how they first met, Taehyun liked to think about it, it made him and Minho laugh.
    He called Minho to talk about how they first met.
    Minho didn't answer.

    Taehyun was really amazed at the sky high walls of beautiful paintings on different artists take on different topics. Minho slung an arm around shoulder as they walked further into the spacious marble building, seeing how each painting can be so different, yet exactly the same.
    For a first date, Minho took Taehyun to his favorite art gallery in downtown Seoul. It was truly a beautiful place. Most people would yawn at the thought of spending time with your significant other in a gallery that only houses paper with meaningless colors and what looked like no effort, but if you looked deeper than that, it was meaningful, rather. Taehyun loved the idea. He was a lover of the arts, and he didn't mind in the slightest that this is where Minho wanted to take him. He loved it, actually. As a child, he never got many opportunities to come to a place as magnificent as this, he enjoyed it while it lasted.
    Minho had told him it was his favorite place to come, because it was where he felt most at peace, away from judging eyes of the public and into open arms of consoling artists who understood him, made him feel in his place. He said here, he didn't feel different. He knew many people here because he respected them as their kind of artist as they respected him as his own kind of artist. Minho liked it there.
    He showed him one of his own pieces that made it into the gallery, Taehyun was speechless for a moment. It was a man, or a boy, sitting against a wall. It was dark, but he could see it. One knee was brought up to his chest and his arms freely by his side. He looked like he was suffering. On the wooden wall behind him, in the wood grains, words were written out. Some he saw were 'suffer' 'sorrow' and 'reject'. It was meaningful. Taehyun told him it was beautiful. Minho said it represented how poeple around him made him feel when he was a teenager. It was really meaningful.
    If it could, it made Taehyun so much more attracted to Minho. He was so much more beautiful now. He was more than just physically beautiful.
    Taehyun smiled to himself and called Minho to hear his beautiful voice.
    Minho didn't answer.

    Besides the fresh scent of flowers lingering around him all day and spending the remainder of the night next to Minho next door, Taehyun loved learning about constellations and ancient Roman gods and the stories behind them. He was very pleased to find out that Minho wouldn't mind learning more, and let Taehyun talk about it whenever he felt like he needed to. It made Taehyun happy, to be honest, how he could teach Minho about everything that he had learned from school- he had payed a lot of attention in this certain subject- and he didn't feel a need to stop talking.
    Minho found it cute, how Taehyun looked when he was so immersed in a subject he loves and knows so much about. Taehyun seemed to get more beautiful everyday in his eyes. All the little things he did made him fall so much more helplessly in love with him. He loved the way his eyebrows slanted when he laughed, it was unique. He loved the way he would absentmindedly push his hair back behind his ears. More than often he found himself with an arm wrapped around Taehyun's shoulders, playing with his hair as he sat and talked about the meaning behind constellations and how they git their meanings and their roots and Minho never tuned him out, he listened and tried to remember what he was saying.
    He knew it wasn't his strong point, remembering so many scientific facts, but there were some that stuck with him, and when he would bring it up, the smile on Taehyuns face before he confirmed it made his heart leap.
    Taehyun loved when Minho recited his facts to him. It made him incredibly happy when he knew he payed attention to what he said. When those long nights would come around, they both lay there, staring at the ceiling and Taehyun speaking quietly about whatever new he had to say. Minho never fell asleep during it. Taehyun would look over to see if he was tired and Minho would look back- with tired eyes, obviously- and he would bring his arm over him, and pulled him close, savoring the comfortable silence, so close to each other, feeling Taehyun's soft breaths on his chest.
    Taehyun sat with his knees to his chest and wanted to tell Minho some new information that he found out recently.
    He dialed Minho's number.
    Minho didn't answer.

    To Taehyun, a few minutes without Minho is like a year. Did his happiness come from Minho? Probably, but its not like he was an obsessive or anything. When Minho laughed it was like literal music, when Minho smiled he swore he could see the light. If Minho was sad he tried to keep his spirit up and keep Minho happy, because he was probably sadder than him.
    They never seemed to fight, ever. Was that weird? Well, no, not really. It meant there was balance throughout their entire relationship. Minho didn't like arguing, he always seemed content, rarely down. Taehyun found him so intruiging. So beautiful.
    His profile was beautiful as he kept his head down on his drawing papers, sketching whatever came to his mind. His voice was beautiful in the darkest hours of night when he would talk about nothing at all and fall asleep listening to the raspy yet melodic sound. His hands were beautiful when he would take Taehyun's own in his larger ones and play absentmindedly with his fingers as Taehyun studied the way that they moved. His lips were beautiful in both the way they looked when he smiled whole-heartedly and the way they felt on Taehyun's soft skin, he could drown in the pure feeling of it.
    Minho's character definitely did not fit his looks, in a good way, of course. He looked a macho-man, so tough and angry. Taehyun knew that Minho didn't like being defined as tough. On the inside, Minho was really as tough as a small puppy, unless he really was a small puppy. He liked being taken care of, and Taehyun didn't complain, as the need to be needed was equally shared in their relationship.
    On Minho's birthday he told Taehyun he didn't want anything. He didn't want to go anywhere special. So he didn't go into work, and instead stuck by Taehyun's side at his shop and inhaled the sickly sweet smell of flowers of all spectrums of color. He didn't mind this, he didn't like when someone would go all out for him, he wasn't comfortable with it.
    Taehyun stood beside Minho and showed him how to arrange cute little fake flowers with crafting wire, smiling when he would do it right, and when he messed up a little bit. Taehyun twisted the ends of two light pink loti and placed them behind Minho's left ear. It looked very cute, seeing how- even though Minho didn't like it- he looked so manly, and the lotus flowers took away that look. He kept it there. He liked how Taehyun smiled when he looked at him.
    It made Taehyun incredibly happy when Minho would comply to whatever Taehyun had to do to him. Of course only consisting of little things like putting flowers behind his ears and putting eyeliner on the poor boy, but he didn't argue. Taehyun said his eyes looked pretty with eyeliner on. His eyes were beautiful anyway, he didn't need anything to define that. Again, just everything about Minho was beautiful.
    Taehyun called Minho to hear his voice.
    Minho didn't answer.

    Minho was done. Finally.
    Taehyun had been waiting for when he wasn't so busy with his meetings at the art gallery to finally come home. Minho had been interviewed for his piece, which was called 'Emtpy', and many galleries and museums wanted to have it their own museum as well. He had been busy with this only because he didn't know what do do. They couldn't copy it and put up the copy saying it was the real thing, obviously, and even though Minho wanted it to be in the classy art galleries that all the rich people who claim to be art appreciators go to, the one it was currently at, well, he likes that place a lot more than the rest. It was familiar to him. He didn't want his piece, which voiced a strong part in his past, to be in a place far away where he knew no one and didn't know how to get around. 
    Minho told Taehyun he said they can host pictures of it, crediting the artist and if the people didn't go to the gallery itself and look at the actual thing, they would have a short passage about the piece and artist. He said he wasn't going to say much about himself, though. Taehyun didn't blame him. He knew Minho didn't like outing himself to many people, especially to groups of people who can't put the effort into seeing the damn piece in person instead.
    He was finished with the meetings, but he had one more to do, the one where they would interview him for what they were going to say for about the piece and artist.
    Minho called Taehyun saying he was done and on his way home. But he never came.
    Taehyun's phone rang, it was midnight and he had been up and waiting for Minho to come back. It was Minho's younger sibling. She was frantic, and Taehyun couldn't help but panic himself.
    He can't remember much of that night. He chose not to remember it.
    Minho's sister, whom Taehyun honestly never bothered to learn her name, had said he needed to come to hospital right away. He saw her pacing in front of a door with words Taehyun had tried to permantently erase from his memory. He couldn't breathe. He didn't move when he stood by her, she was not idle in the least bit.
    He couldn't think straight. His lungs wouldn't work, and he felt like himself had died, as well. A man in a white lab coat came out of the room and looked to the two with a sullen face. As much as Taehyun would love to burn this from his mind, he won't ever be able to scrape the painful message of 'We did all we could to save him. I'm sorry.'
    Taehyun sat there. He didn't react. His mind blanked out. He struggled to breathe. Was it true? Was this just a sick dream? Was he really still at home, did he fall asleep waiting for Minho to return? Or was this real? Was Minho... was he really...
    His sister broke down immediately. The piercing sound broke him of his trance and he knew this wasn't a dream, but he wanted it to be so badly.
    Why was this happening to him? What did he do to deserve this? What had Minho done to end like this? Of all people why was it him? Taehyun didn't understand he didn't know why he had to be the one chosen to be put through this horrible spiral of pain and ever since that day when he found out someone had collided with Minho's car, ever since he found out Minho had died upon impact, ever since he found out he would never be able to hear his voice again, see him again, feel him, Taehyun was dead inside. Taehyun was uncapable of loving again because he only loved- no, , he will only love one person and it will always be Minho, dead or alive, damnit Taehyun won't ever let him become another memory that he has to surpress. Its too much to handle, he was suffocating, a life to live without Minho, he wished he were the one that was dead instead.
    Taehyun will never be able to hold his hand anymore. He will never be able to hear his voice when he wakes up in the morning. He will never be able to feel his hands around his waist when he has his back turned. He will never be able to go to the places Minho always dreamed of going. Minho will never be able to accomplish what he had always set his mind to, he won't ever be able to do that now. Taehyun won't get to see him smile, he won't get to smell his fragrance when they were cuddled together on the couch, he won't get to hear the way his voice sounds when he sings as best he can. Taehyun can't be by his side anymore, and , thats what he needed the most. He needed someone to be there for him. Minho needed consolation that he couldn't find in other artists or art itself, it was Taehyun and Minho was all alone now. Minho was alone and maybe he was scared, maybe he wished he was back with Taehyun, maybe he was so afraid of where to go, what to do without Taehyun. He was alone now, there was no one there for him where he was.
    Taehyun was so angry with the world, who was this that ing killed him, who was it that took Minho away from him, who robbed this innocent man of his life, who was it that took away his passions, who was it that took away Taehyun's own will to live, who was it? Who was it, damnit?! Taehyun was so angry with this person, he was so mad at him. He was so mad because Minho was not there anymore.
    He cried for who knows how long, until he lost the energy to cry anymore. He cried when he came home to a empty house and no one walked through the door. He cried when he woke up and the opposite side of the bed was cold and isolated. He cried when there was no one to make more food for, but he didn't have the energy or want to feed himself anymore. He cried when it set in. He cried when he realized Minho can't come back from where he was now.
    He cried when he realized that he was alone.
    It has been a year and 6 months, Taehyun still feeling the sting as if it were day one. He knelt down to the deep gray stone in the ground. He closed his eyes, the breeze nipping his face. He couldn't hold himself back anymore, and let the tears fall onto his face. he put his head in his hands and he sobbed, calling him to come back.
    Taehyun choked out Minho's name over and over.
    But Minho wasn't going to answer.