TIP #24: “La vie est une fleur dont l'amour est le miel”
Life is a flower of which love is the honey

The dark alley accompanies the fleeting thunderstorm, following the aggressive downpour as if the sky is enraged. The end of the corridor holds a pitiful dimly-lit sparkle that flickers from a fluorescent lamp at its own whim.

The setting is exactly like 8 years ago; wet and premonitious, aching for cold blood.

The well-composed man clad in a suit blacker than night strides closer to the designated area where the ailing light bulb shines the stronger, coming to a stop when he sees his guest looming from the shadows.

“Are you surprised that I’m still well and alive?”

The poised man seems amused, “Of course not. I was waiting for you, in fact.” He hunches over as he fishes out for a stick and the other man gladly lights it up in his generosity. The fading light shimmer a part of his smirk, looking even menacing in the poor of a light, “How was it in there?”

The smile falls from his lips, the star tattoo right above it relaxes and takes on its perfect form, “Great.”

“I thought so.”

The clouds releases another shrilly thunder but both men seemed undaunted. Images flashing over eventhough words are barely exchanged anymore.

“I know what you’re up to, Wonwoo. Do whatever you want with the girl but don’t touch my son.”

The man with the tattoo laughs uproariously, smacks his cigarette to the concrete floor and stomps on it, “I knew there was something familiar about the boy.” His voice is heavier than the pouring water.

“He doesn’t have a clue about it.”

“Of course he wouldn’t, it’s easy to bury every dirty deed with money. A rich person’s thinking.”

Seemingly defensive at his accusation, the former speaks up, “I paid for your mother’s operation as I promised. It’s not my fault she passed away a few days later.”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightens and his spiteful eyes look away at the confirmation. But his shoulders deflate as soon as the dog’s howling goes.

“It’s also not my fault you didn’t get to see her before she took her last breath.”

“I didn’t get to see her because you made me do it!” Wonwoo shouts with ferocity, “She was left dead at home and no one even knew it until a week later!” By now he pants hard, chest rising unevenly and brows arched in anger.

But the older man simply shakes his head and stands firm, “No. You didn’t get to see her because you let yourself get caught. By her who was just a highschool student.” He closes in the space between, barely a distance to ensure that his words get heard clearly, “You willingly accepted my offer, remember? I already fulfilled the end of our deal. Bae In Hya was an external factor you didn’t see coming.”

Wonwoo hated to admit that his words were true; he had slipped up big time. He let himself get outsmart by a teenage high school girl. A shivering, timid student at one. Why did she have to turn up there at all possible times and places? Embarrassed and humiliated, he can only grip on his knuckles at the thought of serving time and watching his one and only mother go without a proper burial.

Seeing as to how silent he has gone, the refined man, or better known as Mr Byun, takes the hint that Wonwoo has understood what he meant.

“So go and finish where you left off that night.”

* *

Baekhyun has always been a man of pride, he acknowledges that fact in full awareness. But he has also that one should shed off some pride to let in some of the better things in life. Afterall, family is more magnanimous than an unnecessary ego.

Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door and it doesn’t take long before the owner welcomes him with a whimsical smile.

She invites him in and Baekhyun takes is hit with the scent of nostalgia and bittersweet moments.

“Umma.”

He calls her with such familiarity and she answers with a smile that Baekhyun remembers as a child. It has always been genuine no matter the season.

She waits for him to speak, like how she used to wait for Baekhyun to say his first few words when he was still a baby. Like before, she doesn’t know what to expect of the words that slip from his mouth. She tries to rub away a sense of uncertainty boiling in her chest; maybe she is afraid but maybe too she feel a tiny pinch of expectancy.

It’s not like he isn’t ready, but Baekhyun is a bit nervous. Laughable isn’t it? Apologising to his mother should have been done a long time ago anyway but since this is the first time, he can’t help but feel that way.

“I’m..” His lips quiver slightly which doesn’t go unnoticed by the old madam, “I’m sorry, Umma.”

She instantly envelops him in a bear hug as wide as her smile and a longing tear rolls down her sunken flushed face. Baekhyun wraps his arms around her frail body and realizes how stupid he has been— this is the kind of warmth he has forgotten after so long but still twiddles comfortably with his touch.

“I’m so sorry. I should have done this earlier.” He mouths into her shoulder, all inaudibly.

He feels her grazing her chin tenderly and his hair lovingly.

“Oh Baekhyun, I have never once hold it against you. But thank you, so so much son.”

Baekhyun doesn’t have to say much, words held at its top secrecy and hidden away for a while now but his mother fathoms all of his pain and remorse with those 3 simple words. Years hasn’t wash away her undeniable love.

Because Baekhyun is her child.

She repeats her sincere words again, those she has been waiting so long to say, with more clarity in her voice.

“Thank you so much.”

* *

In Hya sighs as she casts her wistful eyes away from the imageries of people cuddled up under their colourful parasols down to her piping hot mocha topped with decorative milk with cocoa powder in the pattern of a heart. She warms her cold slender fingers around the cup that was still emitting wisps of steam. It has been raining a lot lately and even newscasters have warned the public of the unbecoming weather.

In comes a man she knows all too well who obviously hasn’t noticed her presence for he quickly brushes the wet patches off his beige coat with a frown on his face that In Hya identifies as a soft cursing.

She chuckles when she sees him pouting slightly when the damp blotches remains on his coat stubbornly and plasters a good-natured smile when he finally pays attention to her gaze from afar.

“Ugh, stupid traffic.” Jongin complains as he screeches his seat from below the table, “I was stuck for half an hour because of the heavy downpour.”

In Hya gestures the green tea macchiato she had ordered beforehand towards the groaning man where he looks touched for a moment, “I can see that.” She offers as she eyes the droplet patches on his fabric.

Jongin removes his coat revealing a knitted maroon sweater underneath before he savours the soothing tea, “You know, I could’ve just meet you at your house. It doesn’t really matter to me if it’s further than this café.” He’s at least thankful she’s wearing sufficient clothes to brace this harsh weather.

In Hya stops swirling her mocha that has turned a lighter shade of brown. Right, Jongin doesn’t know yet that she’s staying with