blood flowers

The petals on the desk are pink today. They are flimsily crumpled and a little jagged at the edges, salmon hue stretching consistently over its light texture. Youngjae picks one up and scrutinises it for a moment before sweeping the whole pile into the bin.

"Carnations, again?" He questions as he tidies up the rest of the counter. Business is slow as usual, sweltering afternoon heat beating against the glass panels of the store. The harsh city corners vigilantly stand against the view of flowers outside, a few passers-by sparing a compassionate glance before stalking off quickly.

"Yeah." Daehyun snivels his nose, stepping up from the back room with another potted plant. He abruptly coughs and more flesh-coloured petals drift from his lips, some getting stuck on his tongue. Daehyun splutters for help and Youngjae quickly winds over, gently picking them off with a laugh.

"Sorry for the mess," Daehyun remarks as he shifts the pot over to the corner, setting it down cautiously. "Didn't expect it to get that bad today."

He sighs in relief and admires the fern for an instant, thumbing the blades of the caladium plant. He hops over another heap of carnation petals as Youngjae sweeps them up, the latter reluctantly tossing the pretty curls into the garbage.

"It's fine," Youngjae assures. "I told you to take the day off. In case you forgot, your operation's tonight, idiot."

"You're telling me to take the day off? Who's the boss here?" Daehyun emits a guttural laugh, though his chortle snaps into another mess of flower petals. He beats his chest and hisses as he takes in a deep breath, swallowing uncomfortably.

"I can handle the store on my own," Youngjae heaves, putting away the broom and the dustpan after getting the rest of the petal trail. He meanders to the back room and grabs a cup, pouring out some warm water and retrieving the honey. Stirring in a few scoops, he brings out the mug and hands it to Daehyun.

"Thanks," Daehyun hums, gratefully downing the drink. "And I doubt that. I don't trust you."

He glances at Youngjae from above the rim while the younger man shoots him a displeased look.

"Seriously, Daehyun," Youngjae presses, plopping himself onto the stool as he whips out his phone. "There's nothing for me to steal here. I'd do better off robbing the laundry shop down the street."

"Screw you." Daehyun drags over a chair and flings himself onto it, wiping his sweaty forehead. "I already told you that it's fine. I'm not dying or anything."

Youngjae swivels his head and they meet eyes. His mouth itches to argue but he decides not to upset Daehyun today, not before the operation, at least. It's not like Daehyun will change his mind even if he protests, anyway.

"This client's fast," Youngjae decides to comment, scrolling through his messages. Jisook's still sleep so he doesn't answer her reply, not wanting to accidentally wake her up.

"Her name's Junhee, right?" Youngjae winces as Daehyun throws up another clump of overgrown carnation petals, pink fluttering against his face. Daehyun mutters under his breath as he gingerly fingers out the cerise curl from his mug.

"Yeah. It's easy to love the nice ones," Daehyun mentions, leaning back against the wall tiredly. "They usually get carnations."

He hacks once more and this time, a burst of petals flitter straight from his throat, Daehyun choking on his splutters. Youngjae hastily pats him and shakes his head silently, placatingly running his hand over Daehyun's back. Persisting in his ministrations, the wordlessness extends tensely while Daehyun catches his breath through the flit of carmine pink.

"After this," Youngjae exhales lengthily, retracting his arm, "take a break. Please."

"I'll think about it. Is Hanbin coming around this Friday? I can't remember," Daehyun muses, blatantly eager to change the topic.

Youngjae thins his lips. "I don't know. Anyway, how about we go on a trip? Get Hanbin and Jiwon to take care of the place and go somewhere out of town."

Daehyun scrunches up his nose. "Ew. Sorry, Youngjae, but I don't want to spend any more time with you than I already do."

Youngjae shoves him lightly with a roll of the eyes and Daehyun breaks out into a fit of laughter, no flowers thankfully breaking out from his lungs.

"Come on. Think about it," Youngjae suggests. "By that, I mean actually consider it. Don't just say it for the sake of shutting me up."

Daehyun bats his lashes and glances over, offering a small smile. "Okay. But not this month. Next customer wants it as soon as possible. His girlfriend's birthday is coming up."

"I seriously wonder how you do it," Youngjae murmurs in a tone more of sadness rather than admiration, leaning back against the wall and shutting his eyes. Today is particularly humid that it seems the heat even dares temper with the air-conditioning.

The stool noisily rattles and something soft meets the tip of his nose. Youngjae flutters open his eyes and catches the carnation petal just as it droops.

"I don't know either," Daehyun returns, roaming away to tidy up the flowers stacked outside the shop.

A few hours later, they're at the hospital, bleached walls running down to the end of Youngjae's periphery. The flush of white and a suffocating detergent scent barrels past and tauntingly nips at the edge of his skin as he waits outside the operating room.

He doesn't like hospitals, but leaving Daehyun to wake up after the operation to no one is rather cruel. He's gotten used to the perimetre of dreary blankness and whiff of wordless patients, anyway. What he's always more bothered by is whether something may go wrong and Daehyun may end up gone for good, no matter how common and efficient the operation is.

It takes just half an hour. The operation for the Hanahaki disease is so recurrent that doctors barely blink when asked to perform the surgery. Unsurprisingly, broken hearts are widespread and routine.

Honestly, it's weird how it all came about. The disease had materialised in the last three decades, stirring up a chaotic commotion the first few years it sprouted. People pinned it as a mutated epidemic till researchers realised the infection was more an nuisance than an actual malign illness.

It was an eccentric phenomenon that took the whole world by surprise—flowers grew in the lungs of those who tragically suffered from unreciprocated love. It brought about mild pain and slight breathing problems, but all in all, researchers deemed the flowers meagre interferences with the affected's breathing (though there were cases where the disease became life-threatening).

For many patients, the flowers knew better than themselves and gave them the answer to their unsaid confessions. For others, it came about after they had been rejected.

Treatment was developed swiftly. The removal of the flowers came along with the loss of feelings, which was a win-win situation for most who didn't want to remain hung up on a futile love. Some have started seeing the disease as a godsend since it's now much easier to deal with heartbreak and the harrowing despondency that comes with it.

Though, the roots of the disease are still an enigma. The entire disease, save for the solution, is a mystery. There are a lot of theories thrown around about the acute details of the sickness but most are unconfirmed.

How deep in love must you be to become a candidate for the disease? What is considered unreciprocated? How do the flowers develop without a person knowing his or her love is unreciprocated? No one knows. Some suspect it's instinct or sixth sense, while others choose the more logical thinking that the flowers cultivate from the patients' own beliefs. Whatever it is, the Hanahaki disease is a hassle—for most people, that is.

For a select few, it's a good way to earn extra cash, or even a means of living. Daehyun is a prime example. Over the years, the flowers from the Hanahaki disease have grown to be relatively precious. There isn't a specific breed of flowers that germinate in the lungs of the diseased, so word goes around that the flowers sprout based on what kind of person the diseased loves. Moreover, these flowers last longer than normally grown flowers. They can live up to a year under proper care.

Thus came about the business of blood flowers. The filthy rich hired people to fall in love with them so as to harvest these blood flowers that supposedly reflected who they were.

What makes the practice so difficult is the part about falling in love—they need to have the capabilities of falling in love with anyone. Some try to engage clients once they are infected by the Hanahaki disease, trying to sell off their flowers for a quick buck under the pretense it came after they met them. For professional sellers like Daehyun who have built up their reputation of producing varying types of blood flowers for different customers, they can charge high prices since they're considered certified.

The world calls them blood florists. They're known for being fickle since they fall in love far too easily, and additionally as masochists since they thrive on one-sided love. This practice of blood flowering is mostly scorned, viewed as a watered-down version of organ trade. Nonetheless, it isn't illegal, though bills have been proposed to enact a law against blood flowering.

Youngjae personally doesn't view blood flowering in a good light, either. He has spoken out against it a couple of times but Daehyun has always brushed him off. Youngjae guesses it's somewhat understandable since the flower shop Daehyun runs doesn't earn enough to pay the rent, but still, to stoop to blood flowering is quite degrading. What more, blood florists naturally find it harder to settle down since they're known for their fickleness.

It had been two years ago when Youngjae signed on as a staff at Daehyun's flower store. He had been in college—still is—and had been looking to earn some extra cash since his parents were paying for his university fees. Daehyun's shop was three blocks away and he was hiring. Youngjae had walked past Daehyun's shop many times, admiring the flowers, so he thought it'd be a good chance to learn more while supporting himself.

Daehyun came off as a man of a few words, intimidating and cold. The store had been left behind by his late parents and he gave up his college scholarship to help out with the shop. As time passed, Daehyun began opening up to him. Despite their three year , they grew close.

Last year, Daehyun suddenly brought up the idea of expanding into blood flowering. He'd been coughing up flowers a few months before that and revealed he'd fallen in love with his neighbour, Sunhwa. It took a month before Youngjae finally managed to persuade Daehyun to go for the operation, but the flowers sprouted back two weeks later.

Youngjae had advised him to move so he wouldn't fall in love again with Sunhwa once more, or at least try going for a blind date—whatever that could distract him. There are cases of the disease relapsing if the patient doesn't stay far enough from the cause and Daehyun had been warned clearly by the doctor to put some distance between him and Sunhwa.

But after the second operation and a new type of flower grew back, Daehyun confessed he'd fallen in love with a different girl. What had stunned Youngjae was that Daehyun admitted it was intentional. He wanted to see if he could do blood flowering. He needed the money for expenses and rental fees since flowers had fallen out of favour with the arrival of the Hanahaki disease.

Youngjae supposes it's not too shocking that Daehyun can do blood flowering. Daehyun has a big heart, after all. He's the kind of person who sees the best in everyone.

It's cold. Autumn grates against the windows as the smear of city lights pepper Youngjae's vision. Soft beats, metal creaks, voices meek. Daehyun is wheeled to a normal ward and he wakes up fifteen minutes later, groggily shifting around as he pries his eyes open.

Youngjae musters up the ugliest face he can and hovers over Daehyun, the bedridden man craning his neck for a moment as he squints at the person in front of him. He falls back onto the bed with a low guffaw, shoving Youngjae lightly.

Himchan enters the room and shakes his head at the two doubled over in kiddish laughter, thumbing through the reports on his clipboard. He's been friends with Daehyun since middle school and is routinely Daehyun's surgeon, which is why Daehyun gets away with his repeated operations so hassle-free.

"Your body's not going to hold out if you keep this up," Himchan pointedly notes, flicking his gaze up and sharply slicing through Youngjae's laughter. Daehyun wears out his chuckle without flinching, Himchan staring back steadily with slow blinks.

"You might not see the effects now but when you grow much older, you'll realise how much weaker you are than other people," Himchan states, spiel rehashed time and time again whenever Daehyun visits the hospital for his Hanahaki surgery.

"Alright, stop nagging," Daehyun heaves, flopping back onto the bed and stretching himself. "So, I can go by tonight, right?"

Himchan nods and clicks his tongue. "It's not worth it, Daehyun. You say you earn thousands of dollars with one blood flower but your health is-"

"Priceless," Daehyun drawls, a tinge of mockery in his tone. Himchan narrows his eyes.

"Give yourself at least a month before the next operation," the doctor instructs, breezing past Youngjae and squeezing his shoulder. "Do me a favour and try to convince this dumb to stop his blood flowering business."

"Wait, where's the-"

"In the drawer," Himchan interrupts Daehyun, stopping short and veering his head back with a displeased mien. "Seriously, I'm risking my job for you. You can at least take my words seriously."

Daehyun shoots him a grin. "I will. Thanks, Himchan."

Himchan carelessly waves and exits the room, leaving the two boxed up within four pillars and an asphyxiating chlorine stench nipping at their lips. Without looking at a mirror, Youngjae can tell he's wearing the same expression as Himchan from the way Daehyun glances at him and quickly churns out a placating smile.

"Daehyun-"

"It's been a while since you've seen a blood flower, right?" Daehyun roughly tugs out the bedside drawer and claws out an orange pill container, one about the width of three fingers. "You were in the UK visiting your girlfriend when I grew the next set."

Youngjae keeps mum as Daehyun s the bottle towards him, persisting in his lazy smile. The linens messily draping over Daehyun seem a bit more bloodcurdling after Himchan's words and Youngjae suppresses a frail sigh.

"What flowers did you grow when I was gone?" Youngjae softly asks, taking the container from Daehyun's wrinkly hands and fleetingly inspecting the specimen inside. Three drooping emerald stalks sit feebly against the walls of the transparent glass, saturated carmine pink carnations pressed into one another.

"Forget-me-nots," Daehyun hums, smidgen of intrigue ading his raspy voice. "First of its kind I ever grew. Guess Younha was pretty special."

Youngjae shrugs, averting his gaze from the delicate flowers trapped inside the bottle. He raises his head once more and starts in a strained pitch, "Daehyun, I really, really want you to think about taking a break, okay?"

"Whether it's with me or with your other friends, just promise me you'll think about going on a vacation," Youngjae finishes with a pressing plea. "I don't want to fight with you right after your operation."

Daehyun purses his lips and mutters under his breath, "Guess I'm lucky for today, then."

Youngjae locks his jaw and Daehyun bursts out into husky laughter, reaching out to squeeze Youngjae's shoulder. One thing Youngjae has noticed is that Daehyun always seems much more exuberant after an operation, like a gargantuan burden had been lifted off his back. He does lose the feelings for his clients once he removes the Hanahaki flowers, so it rubs out the agony of his one-sided love and the perpetual discomfort of hurling out petals.

"I'll think about it." Daehyun's lips quirk further as he shifts his arm up, cupping Youngjae's cheek with his rough palm. He thumbs Youngjae's cheekbone, large hand taking up a good deal of Youngjae's small face. "I will, alright? So don't look so down."

"I can't do it now, though. This client's urgent. The guy's paying me nine thousand to rush one out by September," Daehyun apologetically shares, retracting his arm and momentarily gazing out the window. The light drizzle from an hour ago dies against the glass panel, refracting the neon city glows into watery stardust.

"What's her name?" Youngjae questions, tenderly draping the blanket over Daehyun. Underneath the ominous white, Daehyun smiles like a child and snuggles into the quilt.

"Jessica. We're meeting tomorrow."

Youngjae simply nods as he places the carnations onto the stand and reclines into the chair. "You'll really think about it?"

"Yeah," Daehyun assures, glimpsing at his hand and clasping onto the air. He raises his head and questions with a light simper, "You're not heading home?"

"It's fine. Tomorrow's classes were cancelled." Youngjae yawns and rubs at his eyes.

"Then you should make good use of tonight. Go out and party or something," Daehyun lightheartedly cajoles, his joyous self a little aggravating, considering how Himchan had warned him a few minutes ago of how he's putting his life at risk. "Don't waste it at the hospital. I've been through this so many times; you don't need to be here."

Youngjae ignores Daehyun, refusing to budge as he glances to the carnations on the bedside table. Daehyun nudges Youngjae and the college student swivels his head back tiredly, annoyance written all over his cheeks.

"If you feel guilty, then don't give me a reason to come to the hospital next time," Youngjae heaves, pulling out his phone when he feels it vibrate in his pocket. Jisook's business lecture has just ended and she's heading off for lunch. There's this newly opened restaurant by her school that she wants to bring Youngjae to the next time he visits.

"Your girlfriend?" Daehyun hums, stretching himself as he picks up the blood flowers. Youngjae nods and hardens his gaze to make sure Daehyun doesn't change the topic. They sink into a tense silence as Daehyun relentlessly beams, much more buoyant as compared to hours ago. Noticeably, when the flowers are at their peak, it often shows in the way Daehyun moves. He gets more reclusive and also lethargic, looking as though his soul has been gorged out.

"I'll try, okay? Really," Daehyun finally gives, making no promises once again. Youngjae rolls his eyes and drops back against the back of the chair, folding his arms with a resigned sigh.

It's past midnight by the time Daehyun finishes up the paperwork and is discharged. They miss the last train back because Youngjae had adamantly refused to let Daehyun strain himself by sprinting. They flag a taxi and the awry silhouette of rain drops and engulfing neon burn out against the sides of their faces. Youngjae ends up falling asleep on Daehyun's shoulder even though Daehyun's the one that went through the operation, and he awakes to a 1AM playlist on the midnight radio station, specially for sleepless nights and dreamless eyes.

"I had the taxi make a few rounds around the neighbourhood," Daehyun explains the moment Youngjae pulls himself off, scouring the vicinity in groggy bewilderment. Daehyun leans over and instructs the driver to go back to the drop-off point.

"Sorry. Didn't want to interrupt your sleep," he breathes, voice husky from obvious exhaustion.

Youngjae waves away the apology and yawns, not bothering to cover his mouth. He plops back into the seat and curls up against the window.

"You could have just woken me up. You should be the one getting some rest," Youngjae mumbles, a tinge of guilt dribbling into his ribcage as he squints at the rushing scenery. They're about five minutes away from the street they live on and there's a scarce few still wandering the dead sidewalks.

"It's fine, Youngjae. I've been through the operation so many times. It doesn't bother me." Red from the traffic lights splatters onto Daehyun's brows as they come to a stop on the empty road. Youngjae folds his lips but doesn't bother protesting.

"You're ready for tomorrow?" Youngjae questions over the drone of the engine and the subtle air-conditioning. Daehyun chuckles.

"I'm always ready." He pats his chest and momentarily flinches, Youngjae immediately straightening and worriedly observing the other. Unfazed, Daehyun hurls out his cheesy punchline, "My heart's always ready."

Youngjae groans, inciting another lively laugh from the other man. They pull up at Youngjae's block and Daehyun swiftly pays for the whopping fare, shoving Youngjae out as they stumble onto the pavement. Youngjae makes a face as he rubs at his eyes.

"God, you should have at least let me pay. That was at least six times the normal fare," he chides, auburn lamppost lighting dousing the pair. Daehyun nods dismissively, clearly not processing Youngjae's words.

"Go on up." Daehyun stuffs his hands into his pockets as he angles his chin up the stairwell. Youngjae nods and plods over, ascending the first step before stopping. "Take care," he says, blinking away the sleep clawing at his eyelids.

"You too," Daehyun answers easily. Youngjae doesn't move from his place. "You'll really give what I said some thought?" He asks softly, briefly squinting at the grey discolouring Daehyun's eye bags.

"Mm, I will." Silence wafts around them as Daehyun shifts on his feet, glancing to his watch. He churns out a small smile. "Time to fall in love all over again," he wheezes lowly, voice dripping with a bony fatigue. He his head back and broadens his smile, waving Youngjae up. "Nights, kid."

"Don't call me kid, you old geezer," Youngjae snorts, though he bids Daehyun goodbye with a simper. He trudges up the stairs and flings the door open, feeling his way through the darkness. He tosses himself onto his bed and promptly falls into a blind slumber.

--

It's always awkward to be around on Daehyun's first dates. The women are usually drop dead gorgeous, like carbon copies of the photoshopped models on glamorous magazines. It's not surprising, since only the filthy rich can afford blood flowers and they can pretty much cut out whatever they want from the world's storybook—including their looks. That's not to say they've all went under the knife or that there's anything wrong with it, just that they can afford to be whatever they want.

Jessica's pretty. She has a haughty aura chiselled around her with an upturned nose and thin lips, but her eyes gloss with a startling cordiality and innocent intrigue. They sit in the midst of the cramped flower shop, Daehyun wearing a relaxed mien as Youngjae hurriedly brews a cup of coffee for them each. She had suddenly waltzed in though the arranged timing had been at two in the afternoon, six hours too early since she couldn't contain her eagerness.

Youngjae brings out the tray and sets down the cups, long sleeves coffee-stained. Daehyun pats Youngjae's wrist as Youngjae veers towards him.

"Thanks." They meet eyes as Daehyun melts into an assuring smile, Youngjae realising belatedly his own brows are furrowed. Jessica nods to Youngjae with a courteous curl of the lips but makes no move to down her coffee.

"So, can you really fall in love with all your clients?" She asks curiously, inclining forward. Her nails are polished with a primrose glint, clacking against the table as she rests her hand on the table cloth.

Daehyun sips at his coffee and offers a warm smile. "Yeah," he says simply. From his eyes, Youngjae can easily tell Daehyun's more focused on the downcast sunflowers he had to put aside upon Jessica's arrival. Winding around the pair, Youngjae locks eyes with Daehyun and signals that he'll handle it, grabbing the fertiliser.

"Huh, then, did any of your girlfriends get upset with you for it?" Jessica muses. The questions are common and expected, but she's one of the rare few that are brash enough to ask them without an ounce of sorry sheepishness. Youngjae furrows his brows and Daehyun catches the light scowl, tossing out an amused grin.

"Nope. I'm single. Went into the business five years after my last relationship." Daehyun's chuckling quietly to himself now as Youngjae makes more exaggerated expressions, mocking Jessica behind her back. He hides his oddly broad smile behind his coffee mug, baritone voice withered at the ends from his hoarse throat.

"Wow... Seems like you don't mind at all." Jessica leans back in awe, continuing in a rather scientific manner, "So, the money means more to you than the pain and loneliness? Blood florists rarely get married, I heard."

Youngjae stops churning out funny faces as he frowns deeply, genuinely upset now. Daehyun folds his lips and holds eye contact with his assistant for a pregnant pause, channelling over some assurance.

Daehyun shrugs to Jessica and places down his coffee mug, teeth tinted with brown. "Well, love's not the main priority at the moment. And I've got friends. Blood florists aren't as pitiful as the world makes them out to be, honestly."

He takes another swig and gulps down a whole chunk of caffeine. Smacking his lips with a wince, he knocks the cup lightly against the table. Youngjae meanders to the back room and swipes the jug, pacing over with an obvious glower. He refills the mug while glaring hard at the patterns in the tablecloth. Daehyun grasps his hand just before he leaves, lips curling just a bit at the ends.

Youngjae's footsteps are harsh as he strides to the back room once more. "Looks like I pissed off your assistant," he catches the entertained pitch as it thankfully fades out into white noise. He clasps the counter and mutters under his breath, shaking his head at that woman's audacity. The rich really have no qualms when talking crap about others.

He occupies his time and thoughts with pruning some shrubs. He trims off a whole cluster of wilted leaves and bleak flower buds, weighing the plastic bag in his hand before hurling the whole thing out into the trash.

Youngjae perks up to find Daehyun leaning against the doorway, contented smile drawn with his arms crossed. Youngjae peers past him and warily asks, "She's gone?"

"Yeah. Left ten minutes ago," Daehyun provides, sauntering over. Youngjae edges out of the way as Daehyun crouches, inspecting Youngjae's handiwork with dissecting eyes.

"Oh. Have you been watching me since then?" Youngjae grimaces, slowly cocking a brow in askance.

"I was watching to see if you were pruning correctly," Daehyun snorts. He scours over the potted plants and nods with satisfaction. "Not bad. Much better than the time you snipped off a whole healthy rose stalk. You really know where to hit me right where it hurts, Youngjae."

Youngjae rolls his eyes. "I was new then; what were you expecting? You said cut so I did. And I'll show you where it really hurts." He daringly edges out his leg, trying to aim a solid kick towards Daehyun's crotch. With the bat of an eye, Daehyun has Youngjae shoved back against the fridge, both of them wrestling one another in a bout of laughter. It feels something like high school sneakers and muddy socks, silly grins etched into their rosy cheeks.

Daehyun locks Youngjae's legs down with his own and he spatters out saliva while chortling, Youngjae screeching in horror and only serving to ignite more warm guffaws. As Daehyun withers away into a soft smile, he sieves out a name card from his pocket and hands it over to Youngjae, letting the assistant florist go.

"Jessica told me to hand you this."

Youngjae squints at the card, supposedly that of a modeling agency's. He quizzically looks to Daehyun for an answer.

"She says you've got a pretty face," Daehyun scoffs amusedly. "Perfect for the flower boy trend. She wants you to call her if you're ever interested."

Youngjae widens his eyes and a broad grin fluffs over his cheeks, staring at the card in awe. He pats his chest and hums cheekily, "Damn, Jisook better be careful. Her man's about to be stolen away. I'm gonna leave this place and head to Hollywood."

"You gotta give a one week's notice before you resign, so you aren't going anywhere for the next week," Daehyun says as he strides out to the counter, pulling out a notebook from under the table. There are several invoices clumped between the pages. Youngjae stealthily paces over and peeks over Daehyun's shoulder.

"Sorry," Daehyun says without bothering to look behind, knowing full well Youngjae is reading the numerous transactions, marking the deposits for those looking for blood flowers. He puts on his spectacles as he clips out a crumpled piece of paper, making a small tick by the client's name.

Youngjae bats his lashes slowly and says nothing. He quietly walks back to the pantry, missing Daehyun's turned head and tailing gaze. Daehyun lets out a lengthy breath and places away his papers, sauntering after the boy.

"Hey."

Youngjae doesn't bother acknowledging Daehyun, grabbing the coffee powder from the cupboard. He dumps a few scoops in and stirs in some condensed milk with the hot water, teaspoon clanging against the ceramic mug.

"I'm sorry." His words are more genuine this time, raspy pitch lowered. Youngjae tries to drown him out with the stirring, keeping his lips folded.

"Youngjae..." Daehyun grabs on to Youngjae's wrist and the assistant spins around, regarding Daehyun with slit-like eyes.

"If you're really sorry, you would have quit by now," Youngjae provides coldly. Daehyun stares at him for a moment and runs his hand through his hair, exasperation clear in his expression. He placates, "I will, alright? But I can't cancel the orders when they've already been queued-"

"They weren't. I counted them," Youngjae snaps. "I know you've taken in more orders since yesterday."

Daehyun parts his lips for an instant before shutting his mouth, unable to churn out anything. Youngjae locks his jaw and easily slips out of Daehyun's grip, muttering about getting the deliveries. Daehyun doesn't try to hold on.

It takes thirty minutes for Youngjae to return with the ceramic pots. Awkwardness hangs poignantly in the still air along with the remorseful flowers and Daehyun's watchful gaze, Youngjae avoiding the other man pointedly. The afternoon shift comes painstakingly slow but too fast for Daehyun to resolve the tension, Jiwon popping into the store with his signature bunny smile.

Evening dies away into the nine o'clock coalescence of maroon blue and dreary grey, skin of the sky wrapped tightly with a slight hint of rain thrown their way. It's Jiwon's turn to lock up the store today. The college freshman tidies up a few newly brought in plants, sweeping the floor and rushing to finish all his duties. Daehyun sits at the counter, scribbling some notes onto his transaction slips, before he catches the part-timer as the boy scoots past.

"I'll lock up," Daehyun instructs, not lifting his head as he continues scrawling onto his sheets. His spectacles droop down his strong nose bridge, thick lips chapped and peeling. Youngjae observes him from the corner as Jiwon perks up jubilantly.

"Oh, seriously?" Jiwon grins, discreetly pumping his fist.

"Yeah. You better go before I change my mind," Daehyun laughs, Jiwon widening his eyes and hurriedly stashing back the broom. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and makes a cliched peace sign, bolting out into the street lights and bare traffic. The wind chimes are lost momentarily in the outside noise before they promptly fade back in, high-pitched peals ringing sweetly through the atmosphere.

They are left alone now. Daehyun tugs off his glasses with a relieved sigh upon finishing the last piece, placing them aside and putting an arm over his weary eyes. He grabs them once more only to sweep aside his papers by accident, flutters of white scattering onto the ground.

Emitting an annoyed heave, Daehyun hops off the stool and winds around the counter, peeling off the papers from the discoloured floor tilings. Youngjae paces over and kneels down, stacking up the papers for him.

"Sorry," Daehyun starts, shuffling the papers into his arms. "I shouldn't have accepted the offers. I'll halt the business for the time being, alright?"

Youngjae lets out a fragile breath. He glances out at the faceless passers-by breezing along the sidewalk, neatening out the papers at the same time. "Business is booming, huh?" He returns.

He can never stay angry at Daehyun for too long. A part of him thinks he's weak for always giving in, which is why Daehyun has been doing this stupid blood flowering for so many months, but another wonders if he's overreacting. After all, there are blood florists worldwide and they seem to be doing fine, at the very least.

"Yeah." Daehyun grabs the invoices from Youngjae and absentmindedly searches for the fallen paperclip. Youngjae flicks off that glint of silver and takes the papers, bundling them together.

"Honestly, I don't get this fad," Daehyun sighs. He raises his head and stares at Youngjae for a while without a word. "Normally grown flowers are more precious, don't you think?" He breathes, getting to his feet. He extends a hand and Youngjae clasps it, Daehyun pulling the other florist up from the floor.

"They die faster, so you have to take really good care of them." Daehyun lets go of Youngjae's hand and shoves the stack beneath the counter, shutting the creaky drawer with a boorish yawn.

"Mm." Under the dead of night, Daehyun always looks so much more tired, like his life is ironically draining all vitality from his murky irises. Youngjae puts away the gardening shears and remarks softly, "You never told me much about Sunhwa."

"Sunhwa? Daffodils?" Daehyun muses, fondly gazing at an arrangement of white roses and baby's breath. He grazes the wedding bouquet just barely and hums a pacifying melody.

"Han Sunhwa. The girl you loved. The one that made you grow your first set of Hanahaki flowers," Youngjae reminds quietly, afraid to touch a sore spot. Daehyun does not seem affected in the least bit, however, tightening the velour ribbon around the bouquet with acute concentration.

"Oh, that Sunhwa. Why do you want to know about her?" Daehyun utters, to which Youngjae slowly nods. Daehyun roams over to a vase of yellow tulips and gingerly carries them out of their flask, scrutinising the incandescent hue juxtaposed against the black trudging in through the window.

"She was my first love. That's all there is to it."

"I thought you had a girlfriend though? You said so." Youngjae's jaw slackens when Daehyun doesn't reply, understanding the insinuations.

"You're horrible!" Youngjae gasps.

"Hey. They asked me out," Daehyun points out. "You can't blame me for only liking flowers."

"Damn, you're cold," Youngjae intones, shaking his head.

Daehyun rolls his eyes. He stares at the bouquet of tulips in his hand for an extended while.

The memories are a bit fuzzy but unlike the recurring blood flower episodes now, Daehyun had looked wretchedly miserable at that time, coughing up white petals every now and then. He was easily irritable and for some reason, clung on to the thought of perpetually letting the flowers bloom within his lungs, despite how it interfered with his work and personal life.

Youngjae can understand though—it's Daehyun's first love. He wouldn't want the feelings to go away, no matter how much it hurts. He's seen many friends do this sort of cliched thing and, like Daehyun, end up ceasing their suffering with the Hanahaki operation.

"What was she like?" Youngjae questions curiously, leaning against the counter. "I remember you grew daffodils when you loved her."

Daehyun makes a face. "Why do you need to know?"

"Stop being so secretive," Youngjae whines. "I want to know what she was like. You said she's your first love--she must be special."

Daehyun tilts his head up and presses his lips together in thought. "She's... smart, kind, really, really pretty. Talks really well but a bit of a klutz." He simmers into a tender smile, nostalgia glistening from his eyes.

"She really loves flowers a lot. She'll always light up whenever I tell her about flowers and whatnot. Made my heart race every time she did."

Youngjae lowly snickers and wags a finger, pointedly shooting Daehyun a teasing grin. Daehyun snorts and cradles the bouquet of yellow tulips over.

"Do you still remember the meaning of daffodils?"

Youngjae stops short for a moment before spouting mirthfully, "New beginnings! It is, right? I remembered."

"Good job, kid," Daehyun chuckles in a rasp, patting the shorter boy's hair. "It means unrequited love, too."

"Do you still see her around?" Youngjae asks. Daehyun waves a hand as he grabs the keys from his pocket, dropping them into Youngjae's palm. 

"Nah. I try to avoid her," he fills in. He quietens down as he stares hard at the yellow tulips in his hand.

Nonchalantly extending out the flowers to Youngjae, he grabs his bag with the other hand and throwing it over his shoulder. "Here. Some extra ones."

Youngjae flutters his lashes and clicks his tongue, mischievous simper scrawling onto his chubby cheeks. "Sorry man, I don't swing that way." He takes the bouquet anyway, affectionately caressing the velvety blond petals. They brim with an astonishing, breathtaking sunshine, like summer days and ceaseless meadows running down into blissful clearings.

"Don't make me fire you," Daehyun groans, pinching Youngjae's cheek in hopes of ridding the brazen simper over the boy's plump lips. Youngjae responds with a harmonious laugh, Daehyun inevitably chuckling along.

"Thanks," Youngjae answers, grabbing his bag while meticulously handling the yellow tulips. "They're gorgeous."

"I don't think I've ever told you what they mean, right?" Daehyun mulls, receiving a shake of the head from his assistant. 

"Hopelessly in love," he supplies, getting the lights as the darkness drenches them, only the dim shine from outside lending some clarity, along with the vivid shine of the tulips.

"Cool," Youngjae cajoles, making note of it in his head. They close up the shop swiftly, Daehyun dumping his keys into his jacket as he shrouds back into his lifeless grey hood. Youngjae nestles the flowers attentively against his chest and lets out a disapproving grunt, flicking the hood off his surprised boss.

"You only wear all these dark, dull clothes," Youngjae chides. "You always look like you're attending a funeral or something. Wear brighter colours. You'll look more handsome."

"I'm gonna come in hot pink tomorrow," Daehyun snorts, earning a light smack on the arm from Youngjae. "Sure, why not? Wear some leopard print skinny jeans while you're at it," Youngjae encourages with a scoff, the pair laughing faintly by the side of the path.

"See you tomorrow." Daehyun spins on his feet and schlepps towards his apartment building, nightfall draping onto his slouched back.

"Hey, wait, about the-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll close the blood flowers applications for this month," Daehyun states, waving a hand without bothering to look back. Youngjae melts into an ecstatic smile and watches Daehyun's distancing back for a moment, before turning around and heading home.

A/N:

I found out about the Hanahaki Disease through a tumblr post a few months back so I thought about giving this AU a try. ( 〃．．) I can't find the origin and according to several posts, no one seems to know either, but there is a video about it here! (⺣ᴗ⺣)*

I based it off the video's description: The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals.

수선화 (susunhwa) means daffodil in Korean, which is why Daehyun thought Youngjae was talking about daffodils when he mentioned Sunhwa. (・ε・｀)

Thanks for reading! (* >ᴗ<)