The two young men walked out into the rain, shielded by a bright red umbrella: Seungcheol led, but kept one hand down in case he needed to keep the barista beside him under protection from the rain. Jihoon’s fingers ducked out from under the red umbrella to let the drops of water glide over his fingertips.

“I love the rain,” he whispered, a little melancholic. “I love being outside when it rains.”

“Yeah? How so?”

The man smiled. “My mother never let us out if it was raining. I always had to watch it hit the windows from outside. When I left home… I got to dance in the rain as much as I liked. It has such a nice feeling, you know? It’s so cold… so refreshing. And simple. Not complicated or stuffy. Just water falling from the sky. It has a feeling of freedom to it.” And with that, Woozi twirled out of the umbrella’s reach, letting himself get doused ever so briefly before returning to Seungcheol’s side, a grin plastered on his face.

“I see what you mean,” Seungcheol chuckled. “…you look free, too. But now, if you get a cold, it’s not my fault anymore.”

“Fine.” Jihoon nudged him with a grin. “Where are we going anyway?”

They turned a corner and Seungcheol reached an arm out, motioning at the white gates.

“The park? You took me to the park?”

Seungcheol laughed. “Alright, there’s something in the park. Okay?”

“Fine. If I step in dog poop-”

“I get it, I get it.” Seungcheol laughed as the rain began to lighten up a little: he was able to put the umbrella down half-way until he came up to what was commonly known as the Rose Maze. “Here. You know this?”

“Sure.” Jihoon’s fingers rubbed a green leaf. “It’s the Rose Maze. The authorities never commissioned anybody to plant flowers here, and they were going to rip them down, but then such beautiful roses began to bloom that they decided otherwise.”

Seungcheol smirked. “…that was me.”

“You?”

“When I was first starting out with my own florist, I had bought rose bulbs at a killer cheap price. When they arrived, they were all rotten. But I thought I might as well return them to the ground – to waste away, you know, become a source of food for animals and other plants. So I came here, made a few holes and just dumped them. I never thought they would actually grow if they were still rotten. Taught me a lesson when they started to bloom.”

Jihoon smiled, following the florist who was walking backwards into his own maze of roses. “That’s a really nice story.”

“I guess it proves that no matter what, there’s always life lurking in unexpected places.”

The barista could only think of the summer’s day – years and years ago – when Minhyun had said his first words. Jo! Milk!

Nobody had ever expected the boy to be able to communicate or speak: and yet, Minhyun could comprehend much and say a few words, here and there. Safe to say Yoonjo poured him his milk very happily.

“Yeah,” he agreed, droplets starting to fall from the skies. “I think life does lurk where you least expect it to.”

Seungcheol chuckled to himself, twirling in the maze. “I come by every spring to trim the bushes. In the night-time of course, so nobody finds out.”

“You’re an amazing man,” Woozi admitted.

“Thank you.” Seungcheol took a deep bow with a happy smile on his face. “…I come here sometimes to get calm, or to think. Do you have any places like that?”

“…yeah. I think I do. Come on.”

Jihoon walked his alpha date across the park and to the subway: when they got off, they were at the Royal Conservatory.

“…here?”

“I used to go here,” the barista lied easily. “So they let me use the back-door and come play their piano once in a while.”

“You play the piano?”

“M-hm. Come on.” Jihoon took the man’s hand – out of necessity, obviously – and helped to duck through one of the back doors. Seungcheol began to chuckle, feeling like a delinquent teenager, and Woozi wasn’t above joining him. The two giggled like kids until they got to a very small classroom, and the barista opened the piano case.

Seungcheol sat in a near-by chair. “I had no idea you could play an instrument.”

“Well enough,” the barista answered, pushing up his sleeves. “Not masterfully, but my parents forced me to take lessons until I was eighteen.”

Seungcheol smiled and patiently waited.

Jihoon began a soft tune – Moonlight Sonata – his eyes eventually slipping closed as he let the music fill the room. His fingers moved over the keys masterfully, playing the keys exactly right. It was a tune he would never forget how to play.

“…that’s beautiful,” Seungcheol sighed when it was over.

“Thanks,” Woozi grinned. “I like music. I like it when it just… takes me away. It’s a very good stress-repellent. So when work or my family matters aren’t going so well I just… let the piano do its thing.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “A piano is nothing without its master.”

“…suppose not.”

Seungcheol leaned over and, very gently, kissed Jihoon on the lips once.

The barista went bright-red as the florist sat down again. “W…what was that for?”

“…it seemed appropriate.” The florist shrugged with a dopey, s