blood flowers

“I don’t believe it.”

Jessica crosses her arms and reclines into the chair. Her long fingers drum against the side of her arm, turquoise nail polish gleaming beneath the sunshine of groggy nine o’clock morning. Youngjae stops in his sweeping while Jiwon whips his head back, staring at Jessica with large eyes.

The flower store clouds with a thick silence, Jessica paying no attention to the change in the atmosphere. Sitting opposite her, Daehyun puts down his honey tea, made specially by Youngjae.

“That’s understandable,” he wheezes, forcing out a smile through his wrangling fatigue. “It’s not the first time I’ve been questioned as a blood florist.”

“So, you can see why I have my doubts, don’t you?” Jessica surmises. Her haughtiness is starting to get on Youngjae’s nerves.

“We’ve met for about a month and you’d like me to believe that you love me?” Her words are laughably similar to a script from a melodramatic sitcom.

 “Whether or not you believe me, the flowers tell the truth.” Morning sunlight falls upon Daehyun’s hands, too crinkled at twenty-five. “I am in love with you.” He says this so simply that admittedly, even Youngjae would have a difficult time believing it.

“Oh? Ten dates and you’re in love with me?” She a brow. “I understand this is an easy way to make money so you have to see this no-refund scam to the end, but you won’t actually think I’d believe such nonsense, right?”

Youngjae clenches his jaw and his glare nearly burns through Jessica’s head. Jiwon immediately winds over and squeezes Youngjae’s lower back, urging him to be civil with his eyes.

“Don’t,” he breathes, aster-scented fingers crawling to Youngjae’s balled-up fist.

“You can keep the money. I have more than enough to throw away,” Jessica continues. “What I want to know is how you did it. Did you inject pollen into your lungs? I know you’ve done this multiple times—your hospital records show you’ve been growing Hanahaki flowers for a long while, and I had a friend who engaged your services—so I doubt you’re those one-time frauds that make money off their actual unreciprocated love.”

Youngjae trembles. He wants to spit back at Jessica, but he knows Daehyun will scold him for it afterwards. Perhaps the most pathetic truth is that the species Jessica resides in has the formidable power to crush the common man. Green speaks—unfortunately, only the green of money. Jessica can afford to talk all the she wants without any backlash because she’s filthy rich, while Daehyun, a florist, struggles with the green of normal flowers nobody wants anymore.

The worst thing about her that Daehyun claims he adores is her tactlessness. She speaks of Daehyun’s feelings like they’re gum wrappers. Her conversations about the business are like an extraterrestrial attempting to dissect romance. She’s a bank devoid of emotion.

Youngjae truly can’t understand how Daehyun could fall in love with someone so cold-blooded. Does she even realise how much Daehyun suffers as a blood florist just to keep his flower shop open? Even if she has doubts, how can she speak of Daehyun as if he’s nothing but a lowlife crook?

Unlike Youngjae, Daehyun remains indifferent to Jessica’s scathing remarks. He sips at his honey tea.

“If you’d like, I can tell you what I love about you,” Daehyun sighs, not bothering to meet Jessica’s eyes. “If you feel very strongly about it, by all means, I can give you a refund. The reason I set a no-refund policy is because there are people who take advantage of my business to ease their curiosity. They sign on just to see if it works and tell me after that they aren’t interested anymore.”

Jessica crosses her arms, her locks falling to one side as she tilts her head. “Be my guest. Tell me what you love about me.”

Daehyun leans back. His gaze lies upon Jessica with a stark heaviness.

“On our first date, you asked me questions about how lonely I was. You can call me a masochist but I found how blunt you were refreshing. The questions you asked showed me how pragmatic you were, and honestly, I’m surprised I fell in love with you this quickly as I initially foresaw I’d have some difficulties. I’m more idealistic, while you’re clearly no-nonsense.”

“So, you’re implying that opposites attract, and you fell in love with me?” One end of Jessica’s lips curl, her derisive tone pricking another nerve in Youngjae.

Daehyun exhales lengthily. “I doubt that. The girls who are similar to me are the ones I fall in love with quickest. Falling in love with you this fast was completely unexpected.”

“What was it, then? My looks?” She hums.

Youngjae narrows his eyes in disbelief. Just how pompous can this prick get?

“It was the contrast,” Daehyun replies matter-of-factly. “On our second date, I told you that it does hurt to have flowers in my lungs. You stopped walking, and you were a bit surprised. After the movie, you said we could stop this. You told me to give you normal flowers instead and you’d show them to your family and friends. I told you that it’d be obvious as normal flowers died much faster. You said you’d just throw them away so your family and friends wouldn’t find out.”

Jessica seems to be taken aback, lips parted and eyes large. She flutters her lashes and Daehyun offers a minuscule, tired smile.

“I told you I was a hopeless romantic, didn’t I?” Daehyun chuckles. “The way you could say such curt things with no consideration of my feelings, yet turn right around and treat me with such care—it’s a bit embarrassing to say it, but it made me kind of breathless.”

“Wow,” Jessica wheezes. She blinks several times. “Just that, and you fell in love with me? That’s quite amazing, I have to say. You really do fall in love easily.”

Daehyun’s lips quirk. “Unfortunately.”

“But why?” Jessica leans over, her previous antagonism drained into sheer intrigue. “Do you fall in love with everyone who’s nice to you? Any person with some conscience would have done what I did, you know.”

Youngjae swallows. He’s getting more aggravated by the second, and if it weren’t for Jiwon holding him back, he would have long lashed out at Jessica. She speaks of Daehyun as if he’s a desperate beggar for any sort of kindness.

“When you think of yourself as undeserving of love, it’s very easy to fall in love,” Daehyun laughs slowly. Youngjae doesn’t know who he wants to scream at more.

Jessica grins, brushing her hair back as some semblance of humanity flashes in her eyes. “I feel bad. I never thought I’d say this, but this business is quite cruel. I force you to fall in love with me just for a few flowers in your lungs. After you’ve fallen in love with me, I take away them away, getting rid of your feelings like they’re rubbish.”

“And even though you love me, I feel nothing for you. Absolutely nothing.” Her eyes shimmer like a child who had taken apart her doll for the first time. “Doesn’t that feel terrible?”

Youngjae breaks. He manages to shove Jiwon aside and storms up to the table, fist shaking from how furious he is.

“Excuse me,” he grits. Jessica glances up, smile persisting along her diamond cheeks.

“I think you should leave,” Youngjae strains, trying his absolute hardest not to raise his voice any more than necessary.

“Oh, you’re the pretty face I gave my card to. Did you consider?” Jessica stands.

“Sorry, I’m not interested at all,” Youngjae snaps. “Please leave.”

“Youngjae, it’s fine,” Daehyun says, though he makes no attempt to take Youngjae aside.

“No worries. I was about to take my leave,” Jessica intones, not an inch bothered by how Youngjae is on the verge of shoving her out. Like absolute plastic, she nods to Daehyun, her sickening curiosity satiated.

“I hope your surgery goes smoothly. Drop me a call and my staff will come to collect the blood flowers. Lilies, right?” She puts out her hand, evidently pleased.

“It was an eye-opening experience to work with you, Daehyun.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Daehyun coughs, a petal slipping from his lips. He shakes Jessica’s hand while Youngjae watches, tears burning against his eyes. He wants to lift his hand and slap Jessica but all he does is stand and watch as she steps out.

Daehyun heaves, scooting the chairs in and taking the mugs from the table.

“You shouldn’t have told her to leave,” Daehyun says. When he finally looks to Youngjae, he stops abruptly. Immediately, he places the cups down and strides over.

“Why are you crying?” Daehyun’s voice drops in volume to a pacifying gentleness. He cups Youngjae’s cheeks as the college student muffles his cries, lips pressed tightly together while tears drip over his jaw.

“Oh my god.” Jiwon scurries over, stationing himself by Youngjae’s side with a box of tissues.

Youngjae chokes back a sob. “She’s so disgusting, so horrible…” he blubbers. “I hate her. I ing hate her so much. I hope she trips and breaks her nose.”

Much to Youngjae’s irritation, Daehyun chuckles in amusement, eyes crinkling along the sides. He brushes away Youngjae’s tears and nudges the boy into his embrace.

“I’m so angry. How could she say that to you? She’s so ing horrible. Really…” Youngjae gasps for breath, sniffling into Daehyun’s shoulder.

“Not horrible enough for me to grow a mini Rafflesia, though,” Daehyun teases. He comfortingly Youngjae’s back and gestures for Jiwon to make some hot chocolate.

“Aren’t you angry?” Youngjae blurts. He leans out of Daehyun’s grasp in incredulity. “Seriously, you aren’t angry? She treated you like you were trash!”

“I’m too tired to be angry.” Daehyun dashes away Youngjae’s streaking tears, fingers like willow leaves in Autumn.

“You loved her. You love her,” Youngjae protests in vexation, tears welling up in his eyes once more. “She said all those things to you; she- she doesn’t deserve to be loved by you. When she left, she even said she was happy to work with you. How can an actual person treat someone like this?”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. Besides, I’m going for the operation next week. I’d forget about her afterwards,” Daehyun lulls.

“But…” Youngjae sniffles, squinting his eyes shut as wet warmth stings down his skin.

“Come on. Don’t cry anymore. I’m fine.” A small laugh escapes Daehyun as he holds Youngjae’s jaw tenderly, coaxing the boy to meet his eyes. He breathes, “Thank you for getting angry for me.”

“I’m angry for you too, boss,” Jiwon pipes up as he returns with the cup of hot chocolate.

“Then why aren’t you crying like Youngjae?” Daehyun drawls. He smiles when Youngjae laughs amid his suppressed weeping.

Jiwon feigns a sniff. “The tears are internal.”

Youngjae chortles again, taking in deep breaths as the sobs stop wracking through his body. Satisfied, Daehyun ruffles Youngjae’s hair and places the mug to the boy’s lip.

“But really, though. I thought she was out of her mind. Who says that kind of bull?” Jiwon huffs, plopping himself on a stool. “I’d have went up to her if she wasn’t your customer.”

“If she wasn’t my customer, we wouldn’t be having that conversation,” Daehyun deadpans. He knuckles Jiwon’s head and Youngjae bites back a simper, having calmed down from his crying bout.

Daehyun grabs a tissue and dabs away Youngjae’s snot, the college boy embarrassedly nudging Daehyun aside. He settles in the chair Jiwon gets for him.

“Are you done being a baby?” Daehyun hums. Youngjae sends him a glare from behind his mug, drinking his hot chocolate contentedly.

“You really shocked me, Youngjae. I didn’t think you’d actually go up to her,” Jiwon remarks. “I thought you were badass—well, before you started crying, anyway.”

“Hey,” Youngjae grunts, voice coming out as a croak due to his dry throat. “I was just so mad, alright? She was such a...”

"Such a..." Jiwon wipes an imaginary tear, hastily scooting away when Youngjae swats at him.

“Stop teasing him and go mop the back,” Daehyun instructs.

“Damn it. I thought you wouldn’t notice.” Jiwon grabs the mop and schlepps away, leaving the other two to themselves.

When Jiwon disappears from sight, Daehyun sits by Youngjae’s side and the boy’s head. “Feeling better?”

Youngjae nods, somewhat bashful at how he’s being treated like a child. “You should have cussed her out.”

“You’d see me dead tomorrow if I did that.” His fingers thread affectionately through Youngjae’s hair, massaging down to the nape of Youngjae’s neck.

“I’m surprised. Didn’t expect you to cry.” He melts into a warm, azalea-like smile. “Your heart’s soft.”

“Shut up.” Youngjae rubs his eyes and lets out a long breath. The chagrin still churns in his guts, even more so that Daehyun is too nonchalant about being talked down like that.

“I can’t believe you fell in love with an like her. You’re nuts,” Youngjae grumbles.

“I am,” Daehyun concedes. “The dates were bad, admittedly, and I’m saying that even as a guy with no standards.”

“Then, why did you fall for her?” Youngjae shudders at the thought, stupefaction scrawling all over his contorted face. “You’re seriously crazy.”

“You answered your own question. Because I’m crazy.” He pulls his hand away and rests it on Youngjae’s thigh.

The wordless minutes pass between them while the city rises into mid-morning, people breezing by the store without a second glance.

Youngjae clasps his cup with both hands. “Whatever she said, forget all of it. Everything she said was complete .”

“What did she say?” Daehyun his brows and contemplates to himself. “I honestly can’t remember.”

Youngjae purses his lips. “Good.”

Daehyun laughs. Abruptly, his body wracks with coughs, an unusually large amount of white petals bursting out from his lips and dispersing over the floor. Several are shaded with a lovely pink blush.

Daehyun clips a lily petal between his fingers while Youngjae stares in concern. “Oh, this one’s pretty,” Daehyun hums.

“Why are you coughing out so much?” Youngjae exclaims.

“What do you mean by so much? You always find things to worry about.” Daehyun gently taps Youngjae’s forehead and rises, getting his jacket.

“Since you’re done crying, I’m going out to run some errands,” Daehyun wheezes. His voice is hoarse and brittle, the flowers blatantly weighing him down.

“Take care of the shop for me.” He pauses by the door and reaches over to comb Youngjae’s hair back, lips curling slightly.

“I’ll buy back fries for you and Jiwon. Check if he cleaned the corners—lazy always skips out on it, thinking I won’t notice.”

With that, Daehyun vanishes into the thin wind along the streets, footsteps trailing past flowers of sapphire.

--

The lilies are extracted a week later, remnants of Himchan’s usual warnings lingering in the cab ride home. With his low wheezes, Daehyun decides to stop by the store after his discharge. It’s closed, of course, it being eleven o’clock on a chilly night. Hanbin and Jiwon had locked up two hours ago.

Youngjae keeps quiet, watching Daehyun gaze through the smeared glass window into a colourful vibrancy of still petals. Through the blossoms of shrubs and green, Daehyun’s reflection wavers on the other side.

It’s the first time Youngjae sees Daehyun sad. Not like that of tear smithereens and heart-wrenching despondency, but just a simple, quiet sadness. His cheeks do not crease and neither do his lips break their listless line, but his eyelids do fall along with the encapsulating nightfall. To anyone else, Daehyun would seem tired, but Youngjae can tease out the bruised blue in his eyes.

It’s strange. The Hanahaki surgery removes the burden of unreciprocated love. Daehyun always looks happy afterwards, so carefree as compared to his initial fatigue. Indeed, Daehyun had seem a lot happier at the hospital right after the surgery. But now, he looks so... empty.

Youngjae considers reaching over to hold Daehyun’s arm and comfort him. Before he can, Daehyun steps back, the woe vanishing behind his irises.

“Do you think there’s any point in loving someone when you won’t get anything out of it?” Daehyun’s breath fogs up the glass and the mist disperses swiftly, his hand clasping the bottle of frail lilies. He thoughtfully glances up at the full moon and turns to Youngjae with a small smile.

Youngjae bites his tongue. He knows the answer in his mind but replies with his heart. “There is.”

Daehyun chuckles, his usual sarcastic yet fond tone willowing into the air. “Did I lose you somewhere on the way back?”

“You lost me the moment you joined this stupid business,” Youngjae mumbles, just barely audible for Daehyun to catch while leaving the atmosphere intact.

Daehyun buries his hands into his hoodie pockets. “You say there’s a point. What is it?”

“Of loving someone, even though you won’t get anything out of it?” Youngjae repeats. He thinks about Jisook and the thought of her breaking up with him. He’d be heartbroken, but would he prolong his suffering with the Hanahaki flowers that’d sprout?

Even if he thinks he wouldn’t, how could he find it in himself to say there’s no point—when Daehyun’s life revolves around one-sided love? He bleeds flowers out of his lungs for a woman he’ll come to love in the span of four weeks, maybe faster. Beneath this masochistic everyday routine (like chatting about the weather), his greatest love is for the flowers he nurtures. After all, the reason he puts himself through the torment of blood flowering is so the flower shop can stay open another day.

Youngjae’s shoulders fall and his face scribbles on the same sadness Daehyun wore a moment ago.

“…I don’t know,” he wearily exhales. “Do you think there’s any point to it?”

The yellow tulips Daehyun gave him had fully wilted this morning. As Youngjae buried it into the soil at a nearby park, he mulled over how pitiful flowers were. Snipped to be kept pretty by the window, only to lose all its vitality in a few weeks. What a temporary and meaningless life, just like a man who coughs them out and wears himself down for a painful love.

“Yeah,” Daehyun heaves, lashes batting slowly against his haggard eye circles. “But I’m not sure what it is.”

“We both don’t know,” Youngjae hums. He shuts his eyes and indulges in the quietness of near midnight.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.” Youngjae doesn’t open his eyes. “Of nights like this.” His voice holds no animosity, though the exhaustion mangles his words into a stale tone.

Daehyun stares at him for a long while.

“Your finals are coming, right?” He doesn’t answer the insinuation in Youngjae’s words as he shifts. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Yeah, they are. I have to go back and study.” Youngjae clicks his tongue.

“And it’s fine. What am I, a girl?” He gently nudges Daehyun towards the stairwell.

“Go home and rest. I’m glad you got the flowers out,” he fails to contain his sigh, churning out a half-hearted smile as he rakes his eyes over Daehyun’s gaunt cheeks.

Just as Youngjae spins on his feet, Daehyun speaks.

“Are you mad at me?”

Youngjae glances back to meet Daehyun’s dull irises. He wants to lie, knowing Daehyun’s probably lethargic from the Hanahaki operation, but the words spill like dead leaves.

“…A little,” Youngjae whispers. “Mostly disappointed.”

“I do it for the flower shop. I can’t help it,” Daehyun returns almost immediately. He usually tries to pacify Youngjae by promising he’ll consider taking a break, so the response catches Youngjae off guard.

Youngjae flutters his eyelashes while the night drifts by in an array of grey clouds.

“And I get mad because you’re my friend,” Youngjae wheezes after a moment, some annoyance lacing his tone. “I can’t help it either. I hate seeing you in pain. Every time Himchan tells me you’re hurting yourself by blood flowering... do you know how afraid I get?”

“You say you can’t help it, but to tell you the truth? I’d rather the flower shop close than watch you do this.” Youngjae swivels and paces down the street towards his home.

Daehyun doesn’t try to chase after him with another empty promise.

--

Finals roll around during the dreary monsoon season, leaving Youngjae cooped up in his apartment and relying on instant noodles or delivery services. Expectedly, he misses quite a few meals, a symptom of his sometimes unbreakable concentration.

Eleven o’clock rain knocks upon Youngjae’s window. The college boy leans back into his seat, unwinding after hours of memorising and regurgitating business terms. The pigmentation of the sky reminds Youngjae of a bittersweet mix between a bruised blue and a dull red, a shade Youngjae somehow adores.

He hasn’t dropped by the flower shop ever since Daehyun’s operation to remove his lilies. Neither has Daehyun stopped by, even though he has a habit of checking in randomly on Youngjae.

Restlessly, Youngjae nibbles on his pen. He removes his earphones to sieve out any noise in the quietness—just in case.

There’s none, beyond the heavy downpour. Youngjae folds his lips, quashing the unnecessary disappointment in his guts. He feels queasy amid the odd mix of frustration and consternation. Is Daehyun busy? Or had he been too harsh to Daehyun the last time they met?

Youngjae counts the days on his fingers and rolls onto his mattress. Heaviness lugs down on his back and he sieves out his phone from his pocket, scrolling past text messages from his friends. He sends a voicemail to Jisook, reminding her to eat before her meeting, and curls up in his soft linens.

He misses Daehyun.

Youngjae’s fingers hovers over his contact list. Daehyun’s at the top of his favourites, having replaced Jisook several months after she went overseas for her studies.

He doesn’t understand his hesitance. Perhaps because it’s midnight and he doesn’t want to disrupt Daehyun’s sleep, but who is he kidding? He has called Daehyun randomly even at 3AM only because he’s curious if Daehyun’s awake, only to laugh when Daehyun curses at him once he picks up.

Pettiness, then, that Daehyun hasn’t even sent him a text message asking if he’s doing okay. Worry, maybe, that Daehyun truly is upset at him and has easily cut Youngjae off. Sadness, perhaps, that Daehyun doesn’t care about him as much as Youngjae assumed he did.

Between the thoughts of withering lilies and smile lines, Youngjae dials Daehyun’s number. He remains cocooned in his blanket as his phone rests on his ear, listening to how the rings juxtapose against the pattering rain.

Daehyun picks after a while. “Youngjae?” He rasps.

“Thanks for calling me. And for checking in on me,” Youngjae deadpans.

Daehyun takes a moment to process Youngjae’s words. He stifles a low laugh. “You called me to whine about me not calling you? It's been a week. I was busy with the shop.”

“Thanks for texting me too when you were too busy to call. I’m doing well,” Youngjae ignores, continuing his one-sided conversation.

Daehyun chuckles again. “What,” there’s some shuffling over the line, “you miss me?”

Youngjae answers honestly, “Yeah. I thought you’d visit me.” His voice softens tiredly as he plays with the seams of his sheets. “You usually do.”

Pausing, Daehyun lets out a faint exhale. “Sorry,” he placates. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just taking a break from studying,” Youngjae yawns. “I still have four more finals to go. They're all so spaced out.”

“Work hard. Or Jisook will dump you.”

“If she wanted to dump me for my grades, she would have done so ages ago.” Youngjae rolls over. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing much. Was just watching TV before you called. It’s late; you should go to sleep.”

“I call you and then you tell me to go to bed,” Youngjae mutters, feigning some anger in his tone. “You’re annoying. If you don’t want to talk to me, just say so.”

“I didn’t say that,” Daehyun returns. A comfortable silence trails his words.

“How were your finals? The ones you’ve taken.”

“I think I did really well for the first one. It’s on valuation; I finished a lot faster than the other students. The second was so-so. Risk management and taxation.”

“That’s good. Don’t study so hard and remember to take breaks. You don’t have to get really good grades,” Daehyun reminds like a father to his child.

“You sound tired. Are you okay?”

"I'm fine."

“Are you sick? I told you to eat more Vitamin C. Are you even taking the tablets I got for you?” Youngjae chides.

“I am, I am. I’ve already finished it. I'm not sick.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ll order more for you.”

“It’s fine. I’ve already bought more. Besides, I just spent a lot of time sorting the pot sizes, so I'm kind of tired,” Daehyun supplies. “Do you have those tablets for yourself? Your exams are here; you can’t get sick.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t go out so I can’t catch anything,” Youngjae cheekily says. "Should I stop bothering you?"

“I knew it. You’re always like this. Don’t you know how to do things in moderation?” Daehyun ignores Youngjae's second question.

“No,” Youngjae answers without remorse. He snuggles against his pillow, his chest now blossoming with a comforting lightness. “Have you been resting well after your operation?”

“Yeah.” There’s some rustling over the line and the distinct sound of a door closing.

“Are you going out?”

“Yeah. Gonna check on the flower shop. I’m not sure if Hanbin remembered to refrigerate that bouquet.”

“Oh, okay. Should I stop bothering you, then?”

“It’s fine. By the way, Jiwon says he wants to go with you to that gaming event thing, or whatever. Can’t remember.”

“Gaming event thing. That's so specific. I totally know what you're talking about,” Youngjae snorts in amusement. He places Daehyun on speaker and squeezes his pillow against his chest contentedly.

They talk for another fifteen minutes about things under the sun, natural spaces easing into the conversation every once in a while. The topics don’t come fast but Youngjae enjoys the temporary wordlessness, where they think about what to say.

“I don’t want to get an internship. I like working at the flower shop.”

“It’s part-time. It won’t look good on your resume.”

“If I get a summer internship, I won’t have time to work at the flower shop,” Youngjae remarks. His eyelids cascade as sleepiness crawls over him. He can hear the slight breeze sweeping by as Daehyun walks along the quiet streets, wherever he is.

Daehyun sighs. “The flower shop doesn’t need you, you know. I’m starting to think it’s pretty overstaffed.”

“Fire Hanbin,” Youngjae says. “Tell him his big nose threatens yours and you’ve got to exert dominance.”

“You’ll be the first I’ll fire if I’m getting rid of anyone,” Daehyun drawls, inciting a mischievous laugh from Youngjae.

 “After all I’ve done for you?” Youngjae gets up from bed and stretches himself in a bid attempt to stay awake.

“And what have you done?”

“A lot. I prune your flowers, water them, fertilise their soil-”

Youngjae abruptly halts when the doorbell rings. He blinks sharply and steps to the door in surprise. It’s almost obvious who it is but Youngjae still checks the peephole.

“Are you going to let me in?” Daehyun rasps over the phone.

Youngjae unlocks the door and throws it open, an exuberant grin bursting over his rosy cheeks. Daehyun is clad in his usual dull colour scheme—black cap, dark grey hoodie and plain jeans. In one hand, Daehyun holds a bag with a takeaway food box. A violet flower droops out the side of the bag.

An anemone. Youngjae takes the bag Daehyun hands him, instantly reaching for the single stalk.

“Pretty, isn’t she? First time I’ve seen such an even shade of purple.” Daehyun pulls down his face mask and tucks his hands in his pocket.

“Is this your way of saying you’re sorry for not giving a about me?” Youngjae laughs, unable to contain his euphoria.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” Daehyun groans, making a face. “You could have called too.”

He reaches out and messes up Youngjae’s hair, rubbing harder when Youngjae whines. “I have to go. Eat and go to sleep early.”

“Wait, you don’t want to stay over?” Youngjae blurts.

Daehyun shakes his head. “It’s alright. I don’t want to bother you.”

“I don’t mind, really,” Youngjae spouts right away. He curls his fingers and bites his lip. “Oh, you should go home and rest. You shouldn’t have come out here since you’re tired.”

“You act like I’m dying.” Daehyun combs Youngjae’s hair out of his eyes, smiling subtly. “Come back to work quickly or Jiwon’s going to think I’m playing favourites.”

“And… I’m not your favourite?” Youngjae arches a brow. He melts into Daehyun’s familiar laugh, gaze sweeping over Daehyun’s hunched figure. Summer bristles against Youngjae’s warm cheeks.

“It’s Hanbin, actually. I like the countless silences between us.” Daehyun puts up a hand before Youngjae can even start chortling. “Say anything about our noses and I’ll kick you.”

“Let me walk you down.” Youngjae turns to get his jacket, some urgency in his footsteps. Daehyun grabs his wrist and shakes his head.

“Hurry up and eat the chicken, or you’ll get indigestion. Remember to drink water.” Daehyun’s fingers trickle from his wrist to his hand, pulling away promptly.

“I’m going. Take care of yourself.” Striding back towards the lift lobby, Daehyun holds his hand up coolly to bid farewell.

“Thanks!” Youngjae yells, mirth blatant in his shimmering eyes and unbeatable grin. “For the food, and for coming over!”

“Go in and eat already. I'll drop by again tomorrow with dinner,” Daehyun yawns. He spares a small smile before vanishing into the elevator.