blood flowers

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In the comforts of his home away from how suffocating Daehyun is, Youngjae is left to his chewing thoughts. The flowers stir within his ribcage and he coughs every once in a while, throat sore and appetite small. It’s been just a few days, but he’s noted that he’s lost a bit of weight.

No wonder Daehyun became so gaunt. He contracts the Hanahaki disease so often. Youngjae truly doesn’t know how he can still manage to go about his day so smoothly. It hurts so much more than Daehyun makes it look, and Youngjae can’t differentiate between the physical agony and the emotional weight.

He’s been thinking a lot about the operation. Since the trip is in five days, going for the operation would mean he has to postpone the trip if he wants to make a proper recovery. He can’t postpone the trip without intruding on the start of his school semester. Even if he cuts short on his resting time (which Daehyun will not allow for sure, even if he avoids the topic), it doesn’t make sense to meet Daehyun right away after the surgery because of the relapse risk.

Besides, as delusional as Youngjae is, he doesn’t find the feeling of being in an unreciprocated love that unbearable. It’s a death sentence to come to terms with it but as Daehyun has remarked, there just isn’t any logical reason to be put to it. Perhaps it’s the feelings speaking on his behalf, wanting to protect themselves, but something makes him want to keep the flowers.

Maybe it’s the prospect of not being able to see Daehyun until a long time later. He’ll have to make an excuse as to why he has to quit. The new semester offers some cover but Daehyun would think he’s gone mad, since he’s never been too keen on his studies. Then again, he can always say he’s had a change of heart. Though, that won’t stop Daehyun from keeping in contact with him.

In all honesty, thinking about being out of love with Daehyun is surprisingly—and unbearably—sad. In the burrows of pain and misery, somehow, Youngjae has started to find the spiteful petals precious. The idea that the flowers grow based on the person you love is so sappy and senseless, a fad Youngjae loathed once for it was why Daehyun could run his business.

Yet, it’s a little comforting to know the flowers are moulded after Daehyun. Wisteria flowers fit him well. Perhaps the most worrying thing is whether all he’s done for Daehyun is because of his covert love for him. There’s the chance he’d change his mind about taking care of Daehyun so stringently after the surgery. Youngjae doesn’t want that.

Maybe it’s for the best. In that clearer state of mind, he might realise that all along that he’s wrong in the way he treats Daehyun—too overprotective, too suffocating, too busybody.

Youngjae coughs, clasping the expelled petals and pacing over to the bin to toss them. He gulps down some cold water and pops another lozenge, skipping his lunch. He continues choosing clothes from his cupboard, folding them and placing them in his luggage.

And what if it’s not for the best? Sure, he can go overboard sometimes, but he’d rather risk that than have no one be bold enough to interfere with Daehyun’s business.

Besides, if he goes for the operation now, Daehyun won’t get his rest since they can’t go on their trip. Youngjae has been waiting so long for this moment that Daehyun can stop overworking his lungs; he’s not going to toss it all away for some dumb flowers in his throat.

Youngjae swallows thickly, wincing at the throbbing pain in his neck. A week more wouldn’t hurt. Whether or not he gets the operation can be dealt with later. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. So what if people see him coughing up flowers in school? He’d take it as a form of punishment for putting Jisook through so much.

Packing his clothes into the luggage, Youngjae takes his phone and sighs. He reluctantly punches in Daehyun’s number, lingering by the window. The night sky brims with ashen grey, spelling of a sombre rain that hasn’t come.

Daehyun picks up after a few rings. “Hello?”

Youngjae’s gaze falls. “Daehyun, have you eaten?”

“Uh, yeah,” his hesitance is obvious. “You?”

“Yeah,” Youngjae lies. “What are you doing now?”

“Nothing much. Watching TV. You?”

“Packing my luggage. Are you done?”

A pause materialises over the phone. “Halfway,” Daehyun hums.

“Well, hurry. I don’t want you to forget anything when it’s too late. I’m only packing enough clothes there for myself, so you can’t borrow them,” Youngjae nags. “Huh, but I think there’s a washing machine at the guesthouse.”

“It’d be weird if they didn’t. Don’t guesthouses usually have a washing machine?”

Youngjae goes to his laptop, muttering, “Wait, let me check. You’re going to wash your clothes there?”

“If you want me to wear the same underwear for a week, then no.”

“Disgusting.”

Daehyun laughs. He ponders over his following words and starts with a hefty hesitance. “Hey, I don’t think… it’s possible to go for the trip. I know you were excited for it. You have to get the operation, you know?”

Youngjae folds his lips. He gingerly confesses, “I’m going for the operation after the trip.”

Silence smothers the atmosphere. Daehyun abruptly cuts through it with a raised voice, “Youngjae, we talked about this.”

“I know. And I’ve decided to go for the operation after the trip.”

“You can’t. Your school’s starting soon. Even if you get the surgery right after the trip, you have barely a few days to rest,” Daehyun stress, frustrating materialising in his words.

“That’s fine with me. I don’t want our trip to go to waste.”

“I already told you, it’s okay. I’ll pay for it.”

“I want to go for the trip,” Youngjae states firmly. “If you can live with the disease for a year, I can handle going on a trip with it.”

“Youngjae,” Daehyun nearly grits, “I’ve had this disease for more than a year, like you said. I’m experienced. You’re not! You’re going to feel sick and tired throughout the whole trip. What’s the point of going?”

In a quiet voice, Youngjae apologetically says, “I’m going to go. You can’t change my mind. If you don’t let me go, I won’t go for the operation.”

“You’re being stubborn. Childish,” Daehyun heaves, voice dwindling to signify his exhaustion. “I mean it. I really, really mean it.”

Youngjae shrinks a little at the stab of guilt. “Trust me, please? I can handle it. I’ve been working, going out all the same. It’s just like having a small cold.”

“It’s not. You know that. I can tolerate it because I’m seasoned. Why do you want to torture yourself like this?” Daehyun asks quietly. “I know you love her now, but the surgery gives you a chance to start anew. Please, listen to me and get the operation.”

“Maybe you don’t want to forget. But it’s over. You need to move on. Stop harping on it. Wake up and move on,” Daehyun breathes.

The words are blunt, their heaviness so strong it drags away into a lengthy silence. Youngjae feels all the more miserable.

“I don’t want the trip to just go to waste like this,” Youngjae confesses. “I really, really want to go for the trip. It’s not because of Jisook.”

“The trip won’t go to waste. We can always postpone it. There’s the break after your semester, right?”

“No, that’ll be too late. I already made arrangements. I planned everything.”

“I said I’ll pay for it. We can use the same itinerary for next time, can’t we?” Daehyun intones like in frustration from talking to a child.

“No,” Youngjae stresses, hating how unreasonable he sounds. He is, anyway. He’s illogical, wanting to hold on to a disease that causes him pain. He’s more of an idiot than Daehyun was since he actually has someone to talk sense into him, but he refuses to budge.

“Why not?” Daehyun almost grits.

Youngjae curls his fingers. “You’ve been blood flowering for so long. I don’t want your break to be delayed any longer.” He didn’t want to admit it, knowing Daehyun would all the more stop him from going on the trip, but he blurted it out anyway.

“Youngjae,” Daehyun halts, evidently surprised. He ultimately sighs and lowers his voice, “Another few months won’t hurt.”

“Yeah. By then I wouldn’t be surprised you’re a skeleton. You’ve been losing so much weight.”

“It’s not a big deal. And it’s not because of the blood flowering. I just don’t eat as much.” Daehyun pauses and finally mutters, “I should have known it was me. I forgot why you wanted this trip in the first place.”

“I’ll cancel the accommodation,” Daehyun says without hesitance. “Do you know how to schedule an appointment? You just have to give the nearest hospital a call. I could get Himchan to do it for you.”

“Daehyun, no. I’m going for the trip.”

“Youngjae, listen. I never actually thought we were going to go for this trip, alright?” Daehyun bluntly states, the words catching Youngjae off guard. “There’s just too much on my plate to drop everything and go. I already have another client and he’s pressing me to get it done.”

Youngjae flutters his lashes, heart sinking as the flowers teem at the edge of his throat. “Wait, what?” His voice drops to a small so vulnerable, that Daehyun has the decency to hesitate.

“Sorry. You know the business can’t wait,” Daehyun breathes.

“You mean it? Or are you just saying it to get me to stop?” Youngjae blurts.

Daehyun remains silent. “Sorry,” he eventually whispers. “I didn’t think you’d really go ahead.”

“So, you… you were never planning to go,” Youngjae says in disbelief. “Yet even while I was planning everything, you never said a word?”

“I… was thinking of how to cancel the client’s order-”

“Don’t give me that bull. You had plenty of time to close the orders! You know how hard I worked on planning this trip to give you a good time, because you always look so ing miserable, so in pain!” Youngjae grits, clasping his mouth and coughs. His chest bruises with hurt while the Wisteria flowers try to escape.

“You agreed to go to shut me up, huh? I was right,” Youngjae chuckles, letting the petals slip carelessly from his mouth. “You just said you’d go because I piss you off and that was the quickest way to get me to shut my ing mouth. But you didn’t think I’d actually go and plan a trip for you.”

Daehyun tensely returns, “You know that’s not it-”

“ you. You treat me like a complete idiot. I’m not even a friend to you at this point, right?” Youngjae spouts with all the gall he can muster. “I’m just some pathetic nuisance that gets on your nerves and acts like I have the right to boss you around. I was going to go for the operation after the trip but I’m not going to anymore. Not the operation, not the trip. You can do whatever you want.”

The dam in Youngjae’s mouth breaks as he seethes, “You think you know what’s best for me? It’s my lungs. My flowers, not yours. You do an entire business of growing flowers in your chest but I can’t keep them for a while more? Why do I have to listen to you when you never listen to me?”

Youngjae raises his voice, fury seething through his words along with a pitiful shudder. “You ing treat me like , Jung Daehyun.”

“You say we keep fighting, right? Then let’s stop it once and for all. I don’t want to talk to you ever again. I don’t want to ever look at you again.”

Youngjae cuts the call. His fists tremble and he wants to hurl something into the wall, but pathetically, his anger pricks into his cheeks as tears. The wet warmth wears down the rage into hurt as he tries to keep the tears at bay. His shoulders wrack with sobs as he squats, hugging his knees tight.

It’s sad he’s crying for someone like Daehyun. It’s sadder he’s growing flowers for him. Seriously, how could Daehyun do this to him? He thought at the very least Daehyun would care enough to give a about the trip, but to hear that he never planned on going breaks Youngjae’s heart.

He spent so many nights doing up his research, wanting to give Daehyun the best time he could. He marked out flowers Daehyun has yet to see, planning their route carefully so they could catch sight of them. Knowing Daehyun’s preference to not mingle, he picked a guesthouse where they could have more privacy. Even the smallest things like searching up restaurants which served Daehyun’s favourite dishes—he only had Daehyun in mind when he arranged their entire itinerary. None of it was for himself.

Guess he was an idiot since no one asked him to do so.

His phone lights up, several messages filing onto the screen. Youngjae switches off his phone when Daehyun starts calling. He storms over to his luggage, harshly brushing away his tears. One by one, he flings out his clothes, tears blotting his shirts. The wisteria flowers spill from his mouth and he heinously crushes them with his hands, littering them away and using his feet to grind them into the ground. He stops only when he realises exactly what he’d done.

Guilt clenches through Youngjae’s chest. He kneels down and remorsefully scoops up the flowers in his palms, gazing at the torn and crumples petals. Whether they’re removed from the stem, whether they’re born from a disease, it still doesn’t warrant such treatment.

They fall away into the bin as Youngjae’s breaths even out, the tears now a familiar shadow on his face. Daehyun has caused him a lot of pain over these months, Youngjae realises. It’s upsetting that their friendship has deteriorated into something almost burdensome at this point to both of them, but it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Knowing now, clearly, what Daehyun sees of him but keeps hiding.

Youngjae continues taking out his clothes from the luggage, halting for a moment to consider the prospect of going on his own. He paid for it; whether or not Daehyun goes is his problem.

Some time later, Youngjae hears footsteps pelting down his corridor. They’re coming towards his unit, and it makes Youngjae furious. It’s ridiculous how Daehyun thinks coming over can help take away what he says. This is becoming disgustingly like a script. Lather, rinse, repeat. He’s not sorry. He’ll never be sorry because Youngjae already knows how he truly feels.

“Youngjae,” Daehyun starts, panting like a mad man.

“ off, Daehyun,” Youngjae grits. “You think coming here will help? I didn’t pick up your calls for a reason.”

“I know that. Sorry,” Daehyun churns out. He goes quiet for a moment. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t have a client queued up. I really didn’t mean it. I swear. You can check the log book tomorrow.”

“I was lying,” his voice drops, sorrow gurgling through his words. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Get lost. I don’t care if you don’t mean it. You said it; you lied about it straight to my face. You clearly thought it was good for something,” Youngjae hits back.

“I’m sorry,” Daehyun repeats. His voice resounds as if he’s pressing himself against the door, trying to close the distance between them.

“How can you find it so easy to lie to my face? Seriously,” Youngjae seethes. “Just say I piss you off. If you really didn’t want to go on the trip, just say it.”

Youngjae’s shoulders drop. “I know, it’s me, isn’t it? I don’t listen, I ing worry for nothing, and I’ve been bugging you about this since forever. It must have been hard for you. I’m sorry for that. I’ll stop pestering you like a dog, I promise. I’ve gotten the message.”

“Youngjae, it’s not because of that. It’s for you. I lied for you. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I wanted you to go for the operation-”

“For the operation, huh? You live with these flowers every day. It’s not a big deal to you, obviously. You got annoyed, maybe, and just wanted me to listen to you, and what you did to me was easiest way to get me to obey,” Youngjae bites, unforgiving as a petunia. “Why is it so important to you for me to get the operation?”

“Because I’m lying, alright?” Daehyun nearly yells, startling Youngjae. It leaves a piercing silence, and only serves to emphasise his following words.

“It hurts. It ing hurts to have this disease every few months. I’m tired of it, I’m really so tired of it. It hurts to eat, it hurts to breathe. Every morning, I wake up and start coughing my lungs out. I can’t sleep without waking up in the middle of the night, over and over again. I don’t want to eat because it makes the pain worse. I try to sleep as much as I can so I don’t have to feel anything. I can’t even spend time with you like we used to because I’m so ing tired all the time.”

His voice is so thin and brittle that Youngjae’s throat tightens, taken aback by Daehyun’s confession. Youngjae has always known from the start that the flowers hurt Daehyun more than he lets on, but for so many days, he’s questioned his judgement with how Daehyun barely seems affected. They’ve always said it’s as though you’re down with the flu, after all—just that Daehyun’s was chronic.

He knew it hurt more than Daehyun would ever let him know, really, he did—but to hear the magnitude of it from Daehyun’s mouth has all sorts of blue suffocating his chest. The anger has worn down into absolutely nothing, as if Daehyun hadn’t just reached into his ribcage with his words and ripped out his heart.

“I don’t want you to go through what I do. That’s why. I didn’t think it through. I just thought that as long as I got you to go for the operation, it didn’t matter what I did. Didn’t matter if you got mad at me for something I didn’t do,” Daehyun wheezes from the other side.

Youngjae’s fingers curl around the door knob before any rational thought can hesitate him. He unlatches the door, pulling it open. Daehyun raises his head in surprise, eyes large and face clearly tense.

“The flowers—they really hurt you that much?” Youngjae whispers, stepping forward with the woe clenching into his voice. “You always tell me that they don’t, that sometimes, even I believe it.”

Before Youngjae can continue, Daehyun lurches forward and envelops him in a tight embrace. He presses Youngjae’s face into his shoulder and lets out a shuddering breath.

“God…” Daehyun breathes, his fingers trembling over Youngjae’s hair. “I really thought it was over. That I screwed up and I wouldn’t be able to fix it, you’d never want to see me again…”

He nearly suffocates Youngjae with how close he’s pulling him. Youngjae leans back at the sound of Daehyun’s cracked voice and hastily brushes away Daehyun’s tears, panic and a never-before-felt heartache guiding his movements.

“Wait, don’t cry,” Youngjae blurts. It’s the first time Daehyun has shed tears in front of him; his eyes get watery when he watches sad movies, he looks away when he talks about his late parents, but this—

It’s like a broken dam, and it’s scaring Youngjae. Daehyun looks so torn up that Youngjae feels so sorry that he ever thought Daehyun saw him as nothing but garbage. The way he grits his teeth, how he heaves so breathlessly and the godforsaken tears—it’s a foreign sight that Youngjae never in his life thought he’d see, and one that he never wanted to.

“Sorry,” Youngjae desperately tries, his own eyes welling up with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Don’t cry. I was just angry, please, don’t be sad.”

“Why are you saying sorry? You… seriously, you’re such an idiot,” Daehyun strains, pressing his tear-stained face against Youngjae’s cheek like wanting to go closer. “Do you ever think at all?”

Youngjae tries to form words, unsure of what to say with Daehyun shuddering in his grasp. “Sorry,” he blurts, voice dwindling. “Don’t be sad, okay? I really didn’t mean it.”

The words become a mantra as Youngjae swallows back his fears and gently Daehyun’s back. As he tries to soothe Daehyun, he himself nestles his face into Daehyun’s flesh, hoping for some warmth. It’s funny how Daehyun’s the one scaring him, but he’s seeking comfort from him. Like a cycle, the two of them bleed into a dreary night silence, puncture by Daehyun’s strained heaves and Youngjae’s soft whimpers.

It’s eleven when they’re sitting on the floor, Daehyun’s eyes swollen and Youngjae in the kitchen. Youngjae stirs in the milk and brings out the tea, handing it to Daehyun. The quietness lingers still without the heavy, torn breaths, but Youngjae’s fingers still tremble.

“I never asked you about the yellow tulips,” Daehyun hums, voice casual yet thick from crying. “How long did they last?”

“A week. I miss looking at them on my window sill.” Youngjae sits beside Daehyun, handing him the cup. “They accompanied me throughout finals.”

“Well, you can always grab some more from the store.”

“Okay, I will.”

They spin the fabric of a conversation as if moments ago, Daehyun hadn’t gritted back tears and Youngjae hadn’t tried to sever their relationship. As if Youngjae didn’t think he was nothing but a speck of dust to Daehyun, or worse.

“Why are your clothes all over the place?” Daehyun asks to fill the silence.

Youngjae presses his lips together. “I was angry, so I was throwing my clothes out of the luggage,” he admits softly.

“Oh.” Daehyun blinks. He laughs belatedly, swollen eyes crinkling along the sides. “You must have been really angry.”

“Yeah, a bit,” Youngjae murmurs. He clasps his hands together, fingers squirming. “I’ll get some yellow tulips tomorrow from the store.”

“Sure. There’s plenty.” Daehyun stares down at his mug, still smiling. “Do you remember what yellow tulips mean?”

“Hopelessly in love?” Youngjae returns after some thought.

“You have really good memory to know this after so long. They’re good flowers to give to a lover. Yellow, bright and romantic.”

“It’s not hard to remember. Well, it was at first, but you told me once flowers are like a language,” Youngjae remarks absentmindedly. “So I’ve been thinking of it like learning words of another language.”

“That’s a nice way to put it. You should share it with Hanbin since he forgets so often.”

“At least he remembers the names of the flowers, unlike Jiwon. Funny, since he remembers the names of our customers so easily, ” Youngjae grins. He meets Daehyun’s gaze and his smile droops away, chest tensing at the bloodshot eyes.

Daehyun glances away. “He’s a people person, opposite of me.”

“That’s true. He likes people. You, not so much. You’d rather hang out with flowers all day,” Youngjae softly laughs, looking away as well as he think of tears and shallow breaths.

“People are noisy. Flowers are quiet and I’m quiet. Of course I’d like flowers over people.”

“Is that how you see me?” Youngjae returns. He belatedly realises how the question comes across in the current situation, so he adds, “Hanbin, Jiwon, too?”

“Except you guys, alright?” Daehyun chuckles. He leans back and slumps against the side of the bed, evidently exhausted.

Youngjae glances at him out of the corner of his eyes. He averts his gaze when Daehyun looks over and smiles. He’s doing it an awful lot, smiling despite the episode moments ago.

“Sorry.” Daehyun reaches over with one palm. He cups Youngjae’s cheek, and like rain, his other fingers hold the underside of Youngjae’s jaw, guiding him closer.

“Sorry, hm? I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He presses their foreheads together and tiredly gazes into Youngjae’s eyes, uncannily intimate that Youngjae swallows.

Youngjae can only nod. He holds his breath in nervousness when Daehyun shuts his eyes, going closer till their noses touch. He’s not acting like himself at all, clearly, after what transpired. Youngjae had really done a lot more damage than he’d ever expected.

Youngjae’s heart scrunches up. His eyes water and he sniffles, clenching his hands. Daehyun opens his eyes and exhales, pressing Youngjae into his chest.

“What, is it your turn to cry now? What are you crying for?” His words are gruff as usual, but he holds with a warmth hard to feign.

“Because it’s scary to see you cry,” Youngjae mutters. “Why’d you cry? I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t know. How should I have known?” Daehyun hums, voice kept low to soothe.

“Why’d you cry over this? It’s no big deal, even if we break things off,” Youngjae swallows. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. If I’d known you’d react this way…”

“Stop feeling sorry for me,” Daehyun sighs, gently Youngjae’s back to stop the tears from rising. “I’m fine. It’d be weirder if I didn’t react that way.”

Youngjae wipes his tears, not replying as his heart bruises by the wisteria flowers. Daehyun melts into a soft smile.

“I keep doing things that I think are best for you,” he muses with a rasp, “but I end up hurting you more. Seems like I’m kind of stupid.”

“You are. You’re ing stupid.”

“Thanks.”

Youngjae tries not to laugh. He glances over at Daehyun, free of flowers temporarily. He touches his own chest, feeling the flowers stirring within.

“You know, after my parents died... I never really had anyone else. Until you came along, that is,” Daehyun breathes.

“I’m not good with words, but what I mean is that you’re the most important person to me. I’m not lying to make up for what I said,” Daehyun whispers. The words are so soft, like vulnerably hoping Youngjae doesn’t hear, yet unhurried, like adamantly wanting Youngjae to know his worth.

“So don’t say that to me again, alright? It really hurt like .” Daehyun runs his hand through his hair and meets Youngjae’s eyes. Youngjae isn’t sure what expression he’s making, but from Daehyun’s reaction, it’s likely pain.

Daehyun pats Youngjae’s hair and remarks, “You always think I hate you or something. I don’t. I won’t. Unless you burn down the flower shop, then yeah, I might hate you a bit.”

Youngjae bursts out laughing despite the blue swarming his ribcage. He holds Daehyun’s gaze, delving into murky irises and his own miserable expression. Daehyun’s like a flower, he thinks. Silent, wordless, hard to read because of its muteness. He does what he does out of love, no matter how foolish his actions turn out to be. He never says when he’s sick so he doesn’t worry Youngjae; he suffers through the disease so the flower shop can live another day.

“Didn’t you have any friends before me?” Youngjae asks softly. The urge to hurl out the flowers itches at his throat.

“Not really. I told you, I don’t like talking to people. Most of the people I knew thought badly of flowers. Kind of hard for me to make friends with them when my life’s about taking care of flowers.”

“How could they?” Youngjae murmurs. “It must have been lonely for you.”

Daehyun chuckles. “I had my parents.” He pauses, seemingly contemplating as he stares at Youngjae.

Eventually, he hums, “You know of where I came from, don’t you? When I was younger, a lot of kids gossipped about me because my parents were old. So it’s really not like I missed out on much.”

Daehyun gets up from the floor as Youngjae parts his lips, blurting, “What the hell. There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides…”

“It’d be worse if I told them I was an abandoned kid,” Daehyun fills in, picking up Youngjae’s strewn clothes. He gathers them in a pile and starts folding them. “They already thought I was weird for liking flowers. What more adopted?”

Youngjae shifts over to help him. He coughs at this moment, petals fluttering over his clothes. Daehyun picks them off.

“I wish I’d met you earlier. We could have been friends,” Youngjae says.

Daehyun grins. He continues folding Youngjae’s clothes. “You really remind me of a daisy sometimes. I remember the first time I saw you; that was the first thing I thought of because you looked so innocent.”

“Like a flower walked into the flower shop all by itself.” Daehyun’s eyes crinkle as he presses a fist to his lips, containing his laugh.

Youngjae flushes. He snorts, “Innocent? You called me a murderer a few days after because I snipped off that rose.”

“Hey, I said you killed a rose, I didn’t call you a murderer.” Daehyun persists in his smile, a sweet nostalgia washing over his weary face. “Wow, I can still remember you asked me why roses had prickles while the other flowers didn’t.”

Youngjae grins back. He wants to speak but he ends up coughing, wisteria flowers spilling miserably out from his mouth. He embarrassedly watches as Daehyun sweeps them into his palm.

“It’d be good if all flowers had prickles so they could protect themselves,” Daehyun muses. He gazes at the pile of split petals, cradling them like they’re utterly fragile. “Especially from people.”

“I wish so too.” Youngjae folds his shorts, neatening out the creases.

He stops to muse. “Back then, I remember admiring you for loving something so much. When you first told me you were accepted into Seoul National University but you turned down the scholarship offer for the flower shop, I was really amazed.”

“It wasn’t just because of the flower shop. It wasn’t a full scholarship. I couldn’t burden my parents like that when the flower shop business was already bad.”

Youngjae’s gaze softens. “I always wondered about that,” he admits. “Whether it was tough for you and your family, seeing as how the business doesn’t do well even now.”

Daehyun shrugs. “My father worked on the side, so it wasn’t too bad. Well... for me, at least.”

“For you?”

“Yeah. My parents scrimped and saved a lot so I could still live decently.” Daehyun leans back. Despite his unreadable expression, his eyes give away the sadness within him. “Still to know that for most of my life, I stupidly thought we were doing alright while my parents struggled.”

“They always said they weren’t hungry whenever I asked them why I was the only who got to eat meat. They didn’t even say a word or try to stop me whenever I wanted to buy things. I only found out when we had to move to a smaller flat.”

Youngjae flutters his lashes, surprised that Daehyun’s divulging all this information about him. He rarely reveals much about his background, sharing only brief and vague facts about his late parents.. In fact, Youngjae is one of the few people who he has voluntarily told that he’s adopted.

Daehyun hums, “I really regret being a burden to them, especially when I’m not their flesh and blood. It’s sad that they had to suffer because of me.” He smiles a little and remarks jokingly, “They took me in because I was a burden to my biological mother, and I ended up being a burden to them too.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not a burden. You didn’t make them suffer,” Youngjae immediately replies. He scoots over with a hurt look. “Your parents did it because they loved you. They wanted you to live well. I’m sure that seeing you do well made them happy and they didn’t think of it as suffering.”

Daehyun remains unphased. “Doesn’t change the fact they could have lived a better life if I wasn’t around.”

“It to be a burden to the people you love. You want to give them the world but you end up taking it from them.” Daehyun tugs over the open luggage and stacks Youngjae’s clothes in. Youngjae blinks in surprise.

“Have you cancelled the tickets?”

“Um, not yet.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Daehyun finishes putting in Youngjae’s clothes and offers a small smile. “Let’s go on the trip.”

Youngjae hesitates, guilt swarming his chest. “You really want to go?”

“Of course I do. And you have your reasons why you want to keep the flowers, so I won’t stop you.” Daehyun sighs, “I hope you can go for the operation after the trip, though.”

Youngjae lowers his gaze, mulling quietly to himself. He has to get the operation eventually, but after is contentious enough, as bad as he feels for thinking this way.

“You promise? I don’t want to show up at the airport only to drag my luggage all the way back home.”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise.” Daehyun grabs the two pairs of rolled up briefs and raises a brow. “Are you going to wear them inside out on the next day or something? Why are there so few?”

Youngjae flushes and snatches away his briefs. “Stop it. I was going to buy new ones.”

“What for? You’re not going to grow down there-”

“Jung Daehyun, I’m going to strangle you.”

Daehyun melts into a charming laugh and ducks when Youngjae tries to smack him. With his hand still outstretched, Youngjae reaches again and gently touches Daehyun’s shoulder.

“About what you said--that you love someone but you end up being a burden--you really shouldn’t think that way about yourself. They wouldn’t mind if they loved you. Just like how you wouldn’t mind.” Youngjae’s voice softens. “That’s just how love is.”

Daehyun shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He seems to reach up to his shoulder where Youngjae’s hand is, but decides against it.

“Does Jisook know you’ve been keeping the flowers?”

Youngjae rubs the nape of his neck. “Um, no…”

Daehyun keeps silent for a moment. “You know, it’s understandable doing things that hurt yourself for the ones you love. The one reason is, well, love. But the Hanahaki operation is a weird area beyond that. People can’t make you stop doing things that hurt you, like being near the person you love even though it hurts, because you do it out of love. The Hanahaki operation gives you the choice of taking away that reason. I can’t think of why anyone would say no.”

Youngjae isn’t sure if he’s dropping hints or simply airing his thoughts, but he chooses not to see it as a direct question to himself.

“I think… there are some. If you stop loving someone, you might not care about them as much, and it hurts to think you’d do that to them. Or maybe there’s just no reasons, like you said before. It’s just like that. It hurts but you just want to love them.”

Daehyun sits upon Youngjae’s words, gazing up at the ceiling. He nods and pats his stomach with a sheepish smile. “I’m hungry. Do you have ramen?”

“Oh, sure. I’ll make you some.”

Youngjae gets up and heads to the kitchen. He boils a few packets of ramen and brings out a small table, deciding against turning on the television.

“Looks spicy.”

“Mm, I threw in one that’s spicier.”

“Won’t the soup taste weird?”

“I’ve tried it before with my friends. It tastes better this way.” Youngjae settles down on the floor and grabs a bowl, scooping some out of the pot for Daehyun.

“I really like it when you share your thoughts with me,” Youngjae comments. “It kind of feels like you think a lot on the inside but you never really say it out.”

Daehyun slurps up his noodles. “Do you have a packing list? Can you send it to me?”

“I already did, you . I really don’t know if you want to go or not.” Youngjae squints.

“I do. Sorry. Let’s have a lot of fun there.”

Youngjae bites back a smile. “I hope so. I’m going to bring you to see a lot of flowers.”

“I’m excited,” Daehyun hums. His grin doesn’t reach his eyes, but Youngjae chides himself for being too sensitive. He suppresses a cough, but the flower petals still flutter from his mouth.

Youngjae nearly screeches when a petal almost drops into the soup. Daehyun prods his forehead.

“It’s not like you’ll die if one petal gets in the soup.”

“It’s not me, it’s you. That thing came from my lungs.”

“Doesn’t matter. You didn’t even flinch when my flowers fell on the pizza that one time. I put my flowers in your hair too and you don’t seem to care.”

Youngjae’s cheeks redden. “I mean, it’s you.”

“And it’s the same for me.” Daehyun picks up the wisteria petal and places it on Youngjae’s nose. “I’ve always thought of Jisook as a Begonia, not a Wisteria.”

Youngjae doesn’t reply to the remark, flicking off the petal. He contemplates for a while before muttering, “Are you still in contact with Jinhwan?”

“Jinhwan? No, not really. That reminds me, I haven’t replied him.” Daehyun fishes out his phone from his pocket. “These days I’ve been so caught up in you.”

“You shouldn’t worry over me. I’m fine,” Youngjae mumbles in embarrassment.

“That’s like getting me to do the impossible,” Daehyun drawls, oblivious to the heat burning up Youngjae’s neck. He pats Youngjae’s head.

“Do you like men like Jinhwan?”

The abrupt question stales in the air, Daehyun raising his brows. “Not particularly?”

Youngjae persists, despite knowing he’s digging a grave for himself. “But it seems like you really like him.”

Daehyun replies after some thought, “Yeah, as a person. He’s a kind-hearted person who’s not judgemental. He’s very serene and calm too, like baby’s breath.” He cheekily teases, “Unlike you, who’s emotional.”

Youngjae purses his lips, trying not to take too much offense into Daehyun’s remark when the man’s oblivious and disinterested in him. Still, he can’t fight the bitterness dragging his heart down into his stomach. Maybe this is why Daehyun has never spared him a glance romantically.

After their supper, Daehyun washes the dishes. Youngjae goes to get the spare blanket and blinks when he finds Daehyun at the door.

“You aren’t staying over?”

“No, I’ve got to pack for the trip. I haven’t finished it yet.”

“Oh, okay,” Youngjae places away the blanket and unlocks the door with some disappointment. Well, he’ll be seeing Daehyun a lot in a few days’ time, so it shouldn’t matter.

Before Daehyun steps out, Youngjae daringly envelops him in a hug, nestling his face into Daehyun’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for what I said today,” he breathes, shutting his eyes to the thoughts of Daehyun’s distraught expression.

“It’s fine. I should be sorry. You were really mad at me, weren’t you?” Daehyun nudges Youngjae back to look him in the eyes.

“Hurt,” Youngjae corrects softly. “Because I really put in a lot of effort so you’d enjoy the trip. Thanks for agreeing to come; I know you didn’t want to and it gets in the way with the business and all. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“You did it for my sake.”

Youngjae hums, “Well… kind of like you did today. I know you were looking out for me and that you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t care about me. But don’t lie to me. I’ll always find out in the end, and it just makes it more painful.”

Daehyun flits his lashes. “Mm.”

“Like about blood flowering.” Disheartened, Youngjae raises his hand, gingerly placing it on Daehyun’s chest.

“I know this isn’t a good time to bring it up after a big fight, but I just want you to think about blood flowering less often. We’ll talk about it after our trip.”

Daehyun holds Youngjae’s wrist, edging his hand back. “Don’t look so sad. It really doesn’t hurt that much.”

“I just told you not to lie to me. You’re making me think about keeping my flowers.”

Daehyun frowns. “For what?”

“So that I can accompany you.”

“Don’t be stupid. What good will that do? And I have breaks in between.”

“Not long enough,” Youngjae murmurs. “And it’s because you’ll stop if I do that. I hope, anyway.”

Daehyun’s shoulders fall. “Alright. I’ll think about it,” he concedes with a hoarse rasp. He warmly brushes Youngjae’s hair back and Youngjae bends over slightly, wisteria flowers spilling from his mouth.

“Goodnight.” Daehyun catches one of them and tucks it behind Youngjae’s ear, smiling softly.

really weird i couldn't post a chapter and had to use a vpn. and wottt it's been 2 months :( 3 more chaps approx!

this chap was inspired by bts - the truth untold and a scene from the manhwa someone else's bl manhwa chap 58, *spoiler* where inbeom says "then the more you like them, the more you hate yourself. that's love."