Being surrounded by flowers for twenty hours a week was hardly what Kyung had envisioned when he first got his university acceptance letter a year ago. 

His fantasies had featured crazy frat parties and utter freedom from home life in addition to finally studying something that he actually wanted. University life had seemed the ultimate dream.

But then a day before his first semester, he was dealt the reality check that his parents meant to cover only his tuition fees and that alone. The rest of his living expenses were dumped unceremoniously on his head because he had ‘lived a coddled and entitled life long enough’.

‘You’re not serious, are you?’ Kyung had said with a startled laugh, half-certain that it was his parents’ idea of a joke-gift for passing his entrance exams.

His reply was an envelope shoved under his nose containing enough pocket money to cover food and other costs for his first month on campus, and nothing more.

‘Get a job,’ his father had said shortly while his mother smiled encouragingly.

(Kyung had refrained from pointing out that that was the entire point of going to university in the first place; he did not want to drive another nail into his coffin by sassing his parents.)

That was how he had ended up here in Kim’s Scattered Petals, dressed in its uniform of red polo shirt and black pants, and breathing in what seemed like a hundred different fragrances on the daily. For over a year, he had been arranging bouquets in infinite combinations of flowers for an endless stream of lovers, young and old.

Kyung had been slightly grumpy about the circumstances at first because flowers had never interested him before and his shifts at the florist shop occasionally clashed with the campus raves. Still, he had opted for it because it paid better than the coffee shop he had first considered, and university students needed enough dough not only for unhealthy midnight take-out but all the caffeine that substituted blood and oxygen during projects and exam weeks.

Things got easier when his boss took a liking to him due to their similar temperaments. Kim Jiseok was in his thirties, but with him it was easy laughter, jokes and sassy comments about snooty customers muttered under their breaths every day. 

Kyung also discovered that he could get along with his co-worker, a guy named Yukwon who was his age but had at first seemed too cold - until he burst into raucous peals of laughter when Kyung remarked on his second day, ‘Why would anyone give a cactus as a gift? It's like giving your girlfriend a spiked ,’ and could not catch his breath for minutes. A person that could appreciate Kyung's greasy and occasionally twisted sense of humour was a rarity and Kyung immediately decided that he liked him. 

With such agreeable working conditions, Kyung found himself warming to the job.  

What really knocked his socks off was when his boss introduced him to the meanings of flowers during his training. 

Kyung’s first response to the volume titled “Say It With Flowers” was a boorish snort. ‘You’re giving the organs of a frickin’ plant to someone. I’d say the meaning is pretty darn clear.’

Jiseok chuckled as he flipped through the book. ‘I used to think that too before my dad left me this shop. But look at this.’

He handed it over and Kyung scanned the page Jiseok had opened. His eyes stopped at the title. He raised his eyebrows. Exchanging a glance with Jiseok who was grinning broadly at him, Kyung scanned the page swiftly.

His lips began to twist in a slow smirk. ‘Huh. A marigold says all that, huh?’

His boss outright laughed at him. ‘I had a feeling you’d enjoy that, you rotten punk. These were my favourite pages when my dad gave me this book too.’

Kyung’s smirk grew as he read the meaning for another flower. ‘I didn’t even know there was a flower called Bee Balm until a second ago, but it means your whims are unbearable?’ He cackled. 

‘Perfect flower to give you, ain’t it?’ Jiseok smacked him fondly upside the head, snickering at Kyung’s half-hearted protest.  ‘Anyway, remember to go through all the meanings. We get so many customers asking which flowers represent their exact feelings. You need to know them all to work the flower business.’

Kyung hummed, his eyes sparkling as he devoured the open page greedily. ‘You mean customers ask how to say stuff like you’re stupid with flowers, hyung?’ 

Jiseok snorted. ‘Not yet. Disappointingly, all flower buyers seem to be hopeless romanticists, so you need to focus more on those meanings.’

‘I like these more, though,’ Kyung snickered, flipping a page. ‘I had no idea “Negative Meanings of Flowers” was a thing.’

‘Because for you giving flowers just means I want to bone you, doesn’t it?’ Jiseok said dryly, shaking his head. ‘erted brat.’

‘Hey, organs of a plant, remember?’

‘Get to learning.’ Jiseok clapped him on the shoulder and turned to leave. ‘There’s a huge difference between giving someone a pink rose and a red one.’

Honestly, Kyung could not care less that a pink rose could mean happiness or secret love while red roses represented love and passion. The lovey dovey meanings held little interest for him. Still, he could not escape learning those anyway, because Jiseok was absolutely right. Young men and women would come in, asking him which flowers best conveyed their feelings of romance and commitment in the most sublime ways. Everybody wanted the most unique combination of flowers to send the most unique message of the most clichéd love to their sweethearts.

No one ever asked him how to say anything actually interesting like you’re an idiot or I declare war on you using flowers, though. It was such a waste, he mused, considering how one could say not only thou art a cruel in love, but thou art a jealous and vulgar cruel in love with marigolds alone.

Flowers are wasted on romanticists, he decided and took matters into his own hands.

It began as harmless little pranks. 

Quite often, Kyung would encounter customers who either did not know or care what the flowers meant. Instead, they insisted on the colours or outward beauty of the flowers to create bouquets weighing more on the aesthetic side than the meaningful, depending on Kyung to choose the best options for them.

And really, how could Kyung pass up such wonderful opportunities when they were being practically handed to him on silver platters? 

Cranking up his most charming smile to maximum voltage, Kyung would put together gorgeous bouquets into which he would jauntily add a flower or two bearing less than romantic meanings. 

A bouquet of white roses (I am worthy of you) with a few slender twigs of cherry blossoms (false hopes). 

Purple lilies (first emotions of love) and lemon blossoms (I promise to be true) dotted with some choice petunias (resentment and anger). 

The classic baby’s breath (undying love) in an ironic embrace with lavenders (distrust). 

The combinations were endless.

He even once sold a bouquet made solely of purple carnations because the image of that nervous seventeen year old customer pledging his heart and life to his first love with flowers that scream capriciousness was exactly Kyung’s cup of tea. 

His favourite trick was during the Christmas rush of his first year working at the florist shop. Eager lovers would come in, seeking bouquets combining the holiday spirit with romance, and Kyung would gleefully prepare gorgeous bouquets of blood red roses interspersed with white berry mistletoe instead of the typical baby’s breath. 

Most of the customers thought it was brilliant (‘Love and Christmas in one,’ sighed a girl to her boyfriend when he bought one for her); Kyung thought it was piss-his-pants hilarious.

Even more so when it occurred to him that there were millions of people out there kissing under mistletoe, unaware that the cute little white berries overhead branded them as parasites.

Who knew flowers and plants could suddenly become so interesting, he would snicker inwardly to himself as he flashed his most debonair smiles at unassuming customers.

There was also something oddly satisfying about orchestrating these simple jokes that only he knew about (and Jiseok hyung and Yukwon, because they were bright crayons and caught on to what he was doing; they would often share a laugh together over Kyung's ridiculous bouquets). The customers had no idea and Kyung assumed that their lovers did not either (or did not care) because none of his buyers had yet come back to punch him in the face.

And so over a year had passed in much a similar manner and Kyung imagined the rest of his days at Scattered Petals until his graduation would be the same. 

That was until that crisp Spring evening, soon after the beginning of a new semester, when the door of the shop was thrown open almost violently and in stomped a young man, tall and strangely familiar, with a roiling storm following in his wake. Kyung turned away from the newest shipment of red roses he was t, but before he could even greet the customer, a handful of wrinkled bills was slammed down on the counter before him.

'How do I passive-aggressively say " you" in flower?!'

And Kyung just stared, momentarily speechless, at slanted dark eyes glaring at him and full lips twisted in an ugly frown, before breaking into a delighted laugh. He leaned forward on the counter and, with a -eating grin, drawled,

'Oh, dude, where have you been all my life?'

~***~

'What?' The guy blinked, taken aback, and the angry frown dominating his face battled with confusion and surprise. 

Realising that he had spoken without thinking in his excitement, Kyung straightened again but could not fight off his huge grin. 

'You've no idea how long I've been waiting for someone to say that to me.'

'Uh ... um ...' The guy scratched behind his ear, his gaze rapidly darting between Kyung's eyes and the counter. The customer's obvious fluster at Kyung's response contrasted endearingly with his earlier fury and it only added to Kyung's unbridled joy, but then he caught Yukwon's raised eyebrow from across the shop and remembered he had a duty to at least pretend to be professional.

Clearing his throat, Kyung brought his smile under control and said, 'Could you please repeat your order again, sir?'

The guy looked a bit thrown at Kyung's change of tone, but then his expression hardened. 'I said, how do you say " you" to someone in flower?'

It was all Kyung could do to keep his glee from overflowing again. 'Well, there are many levels of saying that.'

As the young man furrowed his brows uncertainly, Kyung placed the garden scissors he had been using on the red roses aside and asked with a smirk, 'On a scale of one to ten, how pissed would you say you are at this person?'

'Add a couple thousand zeroes to that ten,' was the sardonic reply and Kyung's smirk widened. 

'Then I know just what you need. Please wait a few minutes, sir.' 

Beaming so hard that it nearly hurt his cheeks, Kyung sauntered off to gather the flowers for what he knew would be the most glorious bouquet he would ever make. He had certainly used those flowers before, but only separately for the subtle jokes he played on his customers. Never had he received the chance to actually sell them together as one, though he had spent several slow days at the shop planning and perfecting the idea for such a bouquet.

Yukwon was wrapping up an orchid plant for another customer when Kyung passed him to get to the lilies. Pointing his customer in the direction of Jiseok, who was manning the till, Yukwon turned to Kyung, commenting. 'You look happy.'
 
Kyung snorted. 'Happy? Bro, I've hit the frickin' jackpot!'
 
Understanding dawned on Yukwon's handsome face when he saw Kyung picking out orange lilies. 'Seriously?'
 
'Yep.' Kyung nodded happily.
 
'Somebody actually wants to say I hate you with flowers? I didn't think they existed.' Yukwon glanced at Kyung's customer, who was staring at Kyung intensely with his arms shoved deep into the pockets of his long grey coat.
 
'Nope, even better!' Kyung straightened up, clutching the orange lilies as if they were made of glass. 'His desired message is you. I you not.'
 
There was a moment of silence. Then Yukwon let out a low whistle. 'Wow. You hit the jackpot.'
 
Kyung just laughed, exhilarated, now reaching over to grab some yellow carnations.
 
'You're really going all out,' Yukwon observed. Tilting his head, he added, 'Knowing you, you're gonna put in a whole bunch more. What do you need me to get?'
 
'Oh, babe, I always knew there was a reason you're my favourite co-worker.'
 
'I'm your only co-worker during our shifts, you greasy .' Yukwon rolled his eyes, but his lips were twitching as Kyung finished picking the carnations.
 
'Bet you think of my all the time, don't you, all greasy and ready for yo -'
 
'Yah, Park Kyung!'
 
Ignoring the stifled laughter, Yukwon quickly glanced around to make sure his friend's inappropriate joke had not been overheard. After more than a year of working together, Yukwon was more than used to Kyung being a playful but incorrigible flirt, the ual nature of his jokes in direct proportion to how comfortable he felt with that person. But this was still their place of work.
 
Thankfully, the only customer in the shop currently was Kyung's; the guy was still following Kyung's movements around the shop, but he was at the other end of the long counter.
 
Yukwon turned back to Kyung. 'Well? Tell me before I change my mind.'
 
'OK, OK. I need geraniums - wait, we have them here. But the meadowsweet, are we out?'
 
'We've some in the back. I'll grab them for you.'
 
'Thanks, Kwon-ah. Just get me one stem with the largest flower bunch you can find.'
 
It took a few more minutes for Kyung to finish gathering his flowers, his excitement building with each new stalk he added to his arms. In the meantime, Yukwon returned with Kyung’s requested stem of meadowsweet, the bundled white flowers looking pristine and fluffy, which he placed on the counter in front of Kyung’s customer before walking away to attend another patron.
 
The guy was still gazing at the stem of meadowsweet when Kyung finally returned to the counter. He blinked when Kyung placed his armful of flowers beside the meadowsweet, eyes roving sceptically over the colourful array. His furrowed his brows.
 
Noting his expression, Kyung had to fight down another smirk. What he had grown to love most about flowers with “negative meanings” was that most of them were quite beautiful in appearance, creating a hard juxtaposition with their less-than-flattering meanings. His customer, though, was harbouring deep hatred for the person he wished to “passive-aggressively” flip off and he was clearly having trouble associating his feelings with the pretty flowers that had been placed before him.
 
He finally voiced his cynicism when Kyung unrolled a length of white flower wrap to prepare his bouquet.
 
‘White?’
 
Kyung looked up to see the young man glowering at the mesh paper in his hands with a critical eyebrow raised.
 
‘You want another colour?’
 
‘How about the one that says “ you” the loudest?’
 
It was all Kyung could do to keep from laughing out loud. ‘And what colour would that be?’
 
‘You’re the ing florist, aren’t you supposed to know?’ As soon as the words left his mouth, the guy stilled, looking shamefaced at his outburst.
 
Kyung did not mind the words much, but they made him look at his agitated customer - actually look at him, beyond Kyung’s first delightful impression of him as the only patron to have ever requested an offensive bouquet from him.
 
He was a young man, tall and good-looking with dyed light brown hair falling into slanted black eyes. There was something familiar about his features, as if Kyung had often seen him in passing, but he could not recall from where. He was dressed nicely, wearing a navy turtleneck and dark jeans underneath his long grey coat – not the typical attire of an exhausted college student, though he looked to be around Kyung’s age. In fact, Kyung would normally guess from such clothes that he was dressed for a date, and the fact that he was buying a bouquet would also hint at such … except that he had made it clear beyond a doubt that he was goddamn livid at the person he was buying flowers for.
 
For the first time, Kyung actually wondered what had driven this guy to such an action; an action Kyung knew would normally be looked down on as childish and petty.
 
When Kyung continued to gaze at him, no longer smiling, the guy leaned back slightly, the flustered look from earlier returning to his face.
 
‘Um … look, I … I didn’t mean to say that –’ he began, the anger once more gone from his voice, replaced with guilt and uncertainty.
 
‘It’s cool,’ Kyung interrupted him, giving him a more reserved smile this time. ‘As for this –’ He held up the white wrapping mesh ‘–I can change it, if you’d like, but as you can see-’ He gestured at the flowers beside him on the counter ‘- there’s a whole load of colourful shi–’ He catches himself from swearing just in time – ‘things happening here, which is why I chose white. Make the flowers stand out more, yanno?’
 
‘Uh. Yeah. I see.’ His customer was scratching behind his ear again, looking at the flowers instead of Kyung. If Kyung did not know better, he would say the guy was almost embarrassed.
 
‘You could also think of the white paper as the passive part of your “passive-aggressive” bouquet,’ added Kyung with a full-blown grin.
 
The guy met his eyes this time but said nothing. When he continued to wait in silence, Kyung gathered he was being given the green light to go ahead and do whatever the hell he wanted, and he did just that.
 
Under his customer’s piercing gaze, Kyung carefully began to arrange his bouquet. The only splash of white among his gathered flowers was the meadowsweet, which he decided to use as the centre piece. Around the meadowsweet, he alternated orange lilies and yellow carnations, and then paused to admire the stark contrast between the snowy centre and its halo of sunset hues.
 
Glancing up briefly to find the young man’s attention focussed entirely on Kyung’s nimble fingers handling the blossoms, he returned to his task. The two remaining flowers were purple foxgloves and pink geraniums. After a moment of speculation, Kyung decided to place one large stem of foxglove on either side of the bouquet, while the geraniums created a second loop around the lilies and carnations. 

When Kyung was done, he looked critically at the bouquet again, considering the arrangement. He wondered if it would have been a better alternative to make the geraniums and foxgloves the inner loop to surround the meadowsweet centre piece, but decided against it. The bouquet was already a scene stealer, the vivid colours of the flowers simultaneously clashing with and highlighting the effects of each other. 

It looked abso-freaking-lutely gorgeous, if Kyung did say so himself. The pinnacle of his year's work at this shop.

Lips curling in satisfaction, he carefully wrapped the white wrapping mesh around the flowers and tied it off. Snatching up the garden scissors he had put aside, he swiftly snipped off the uneven stems poking from the bottom and then placed the bouquet in front of his customer so that the flowers faced him.

'Here you go.'

The guy picked up the flowers gingerly, staring at them doubtfully. His expression was bordering on a frown again.

'And this says ...?'

'A very forceful passive-aggressive you, yep,' said Kyung, proudly.

'But it's so ...'

Kyung grinned. 'Pretty? Colourful?'

'Striking.' 

That was definitely the word for it, Kyung had to admit. 

The guy turned to Kyung with raised eyebrows. 'I kind of expected it to be a lot more ... uglier. More you-ish.'

Kyung laughed openly this time. 'But that's the whole point of insulting someone with flowers, ain't it? They think it's oh so pretty when the truth is, you've just given them the floral organ equivalent of your middle finger.'

The customer was openly staring at Kyung now. The corners of his lips were twitching, as if threatening to curl into a smile.

Kyung leaned his forearms on the counter and began to point out the flowers in the bouquet. 'The white ones in the middle - that's meadowsweet. You're basically calling that person utterly useless. With these yellow carnations, you're calling them a disappointment. This is foxglove; it means insincerity. And the pink ones are geraniums. Stupidity.'

With every flower Kyung explained, his customer's lips had stretched wider. It was basically a smile now, small but amused nonetheless.

'And this is a lily right?' he prompted, giving one of the orange petals a flick with his finger. 'What does it mean?'

'Take a wild guess. What do you feel most for this person right now?'

'Complete and all-consuming hatred.'

'Bingo,' said Kyung, throwing his head back as he laughed at the seriously spoken dramatic words. 'This right here is one beautiful gift of absolute loathing. Still think it doesn't deliver your message?'

'No, it's ...' The guy looked from the colourful blossoms to Kyung. 'It's perfect.'

'It really is.' Kyung nodded seriously at him. 'It's the most glorious thing I've ever put together. Hey, d'you mind if I take a picture of it before you go? I don't think I'll get the chance to make something like it again anytime soon.'

He was already pulling his phone out, enthusiasm abounding, even as the guy said in tones of both surprise and amusement, 'Uh, sure, go ahead.'

'This is the best day of my life,' Kyung whispered happily to himself as he snapped the picture on his camera phone, making sure the lighting did the vivid colours of the flowers justice. Admiring the photograph, he sighed dramatically. 'Ah, it's even more beautiful than I imagined it would look like, I think I'm gonna cry.'

The sound of a high laugh caught him by surprise and Kyung looked round to see his customer properly grinning for the first time since he entered the shop. 

'You're so weird,' he murmured. His eyes widened slightly then, as if he had not meant to say that out loud, but Kyung did not mind.

'Hey, don't judge,' he replied easily, handing the bouquet back to his customer. 'I've been waiting more than a year - a year! - for a person to order a you bouquet. I never thought I'd get to make it - and it's so damn beautiful,' he added with another exaggerated sigh at the flowers.

The guy chuckled again, which faded into a thoughtful look. 'Yeah ... you know, I'm surprised -'

'I have that effect on people,' Kyung drawled. It struck him only then that his conversation with his customer had taken an unprofessional turn quite a few banters ago, but before he could figure out how to get back on track, his customer continued with another chuckle.

'I meant, by this.' He lifted the bouquet slightly. 'I ... I came in because I had no choice but to buy flowers for tonight. But I was so pissed off that I just ... I said it on a whim, you know? How to say you in flower - that was just my anger talking. Honestly I was expecting to be told there were no such flowers or something...' He trailed off, giving Kyung an intense look. 

Kyung gazed at him, suddenly lost for words. Customers often did share their stories when they came to buy flowers, but they were always romantic and sentimental. This guy, though ... something was off here, though Kyung could not put his finger on what it was, and he did not know what to do about it.

'Ah, but hey, I'm glad.' The guy smiled abruptly at him, wide with a hint of teeth. 'This bouquet is perfect. At least I'll get something out of the hell-hole tonight will be, so really, thanks so much.'

'Wait,' Kyung began hesitantly. He looked from the flowers to the nice clothes the customer was wearing. 'Are you ... are you being forced to go on a date with someone or something? Because that's just wrong, man -'

The young man blanched slightly, his eyes darkening. He took a step back. 'No, not exactly. It's just -' He adjusted the collar of his coat, looking away from Kyung. 'It's complicated. It's nothing really.'

An awkward moment passed before he nodded at Kyung. 'Thank you for the flowers.' His eyes zeroed in on Kyung's name tag on his red polo shirt. 'Park Kyung-ssi.'

Kyung nodded back slowly. 'Happy to be of service ...?' In his concerned state, he forgot to add on the standard "sir", instead leaving the statement open and awkward.

The customer need not have said anything, really, but he looked at Kyung and offered anyway, 'Jiho. Woo Jiho.'

Kyung had not needed his name, nor could he imagine ever needing it. Nevertheless, he responded formally, 'Have a good evening, Woo Jiho-ssi. Please head onto the cashier.' He mechanically pointed in the direction of Jiseok across the shop.

As Woo Jiho began to walk away, Kyung noticed the wrinkled bills he had earlier slammed down onto the counter.

'Wait!' He called. 'Wait - Woo Jiho-sii! You left your...'

Woo Jiho glanced back and, seeing the money Kyung was pointing at, shook his head shortly. 'A tip. For you, Park Kyung-ssi.'

'But -'

Without waiting for Kyung to complete his protest, Woo Jiho hurried over to the cashier counter. Jiseok, who had overheard Kyung calling over to his customer, threw him a questioning look before smiling at his patron and ringing up his bill. Woo Jiho paid and, throwing a brief glance back at Kyung, exited the shop swiftly, leaving behind silence.

Kyung gazed at the doors until they slid shut and then down at the wrinkled bills on the counter. He picked them up slowly.

Twenty thousand won. 

'Damn.' 

As a University student managing his food and other basic needs alone, Kyung was always grateful and never turned down a single won that came his way, but he felt uncomfortable with this generous "tip". What Woo Jiho had let slip about his forced date tonight was bothering him, even though it was technically none of his business.

He started a bit when Yukwon sidled up to him. 'You two were getting pretty hot and heavy there.'

'Huh?' Kyung gaped at him. 'What the hell, man?'

Yukwon gave a low snicker. 'Relax, I'm not implying anything about you. I know you flirt with basically every person that comes here; in fact, I'd be worried if you didn't.'

'Nope, wrong. I flirt with you. I'm friendly with them. Learn the difference and stop being jealous, babe.'

His friend shoved at him with his shoulder. Kyung rubbed the abused spot, shaking his head with a melodramatic sigh. 

'Ah, why was I born with such an awesome personality? The misunderstandings are endless.'

Yukwon rolled his eyes. 'Yeah, yeah, whatever. Idiot. Anyway, what I want to ask is, what’s the deal with that guy?' When Kyung shot him a mock-questioning look, Yukwon added bluntly, 'That guy who wants you to him.'

Kyung almost choked. 'Dude, oh my g-!'

'You really didn't pick up on that?'

'Kwon-ah,' Kyung half-stammered, half-laughed as he stared at him incredulously. 'That guy right now is on some whack date forced on him by some sick person he hates. He had to buy goddamn flowers for that ! He said that joke of a bouquet is the only kick he's getting out of tonight. He was freaking pissed and ready to cut a , a'ight, not thinking about having me in his bed!'

'Hmm.' Yukwon mulled this over for several seconds, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. 'He seemed to be having a good time with you for a moment there -'

'Yeah, I cheered him up for a moment,' Kyung began with a roll of his eyes, but Yukwon cut across him.

'I don't know what you'd been saying to him, but whatever deep that guy is in right now, he didn't take his eyes off you for a second since he first talked to you.' Yukwon looked seriously at him, then shook his head. 'What do you even say to them?'

Kyung was lost for words. He shrugged faintly, still trying to process everything. 'I'm just so irresistible?'

'A narcissistic weirdo, you mean.'

'You can search the seven continents and you still won't meet a nicer, friendlier weirdo than me.'

'Maybe that's why he's into you so quick.' Yukwon snorted, leaning against the counter. 'I suppose it makes sense that there must be someone out there who finds your unattractive self-loving personality appealing.'

'Like you, you mean?' Kyung retorted with a -eating grin that veiled his thoughts that were still focussed on Yukwon's unnerving statements about Woo Jiho. 

'Keep dreaming.' Yukwon straightened when the door opened to admit a couple into the shop. 'But that guy wants you on some level. Bad. I bet you'll see him again.'

'You have literally no basis for that.'

'He learned your name, didn't he?' Yukwon gave him a piercing look. 'And he gave you his. What reason could he possibly have other than that he's interested?'

'Do you have frickin' supersonic hearing?!' Kyung hissed, but Yukwon was already shuffling away to attend the new customers. With a frustrated groan, Kyung turned back only to be met with Jiseok's knowing eyes from across the shop. Kyung stilled, blinking. With a sinking feeling, he had the feeling his boss had overheard his conversation with Yukwon (and quite possibly most of his interactions with Woo Jiho earlier as well).

He dropped his gaze to the counter. The two ten thousand won bills looked back at him, mocking and intriguing both at once.

Sighing, he gave in and pocketed the money. It was a good tip, regardless of circumstances, and everything was done and over with. He had created that most offensive bouquet he had long been dreaming of, had an amusing conversation with that unique customer before it took a deeply uncomfortable turn, and had - according to wise guru Kim Yukwon, at least - unwittingly made said customer drop his pants for him. 

Whatever, it was over. Woo Jiho was just another person that had briefly brushed against Kyung's uneventful life and disappeared, like so many others he had met here in Kim's Scattered Petals. He had made thousands of bouquets for thousands of customers like Woo Jiho, and he will make thousands more for thousands of others in the future. There was no comprehensible reason that they would meet again.

This belief of Kyung's lasted a grand total of seven days. Intermittently he thought of that colourful bouquet he had wrapped and the buyer who had ordered it, but they were fleeting thoughts as he went through his normal routines of attending lectures, working on his assignments and his shifts at the flower shop.

The illusion was broken a week later. Minutes into his evening shift at Scattered Petals, Kyung discovered that Yukwon either did really know what he was talking about or he just turned out to be absolutely right by chance. 

Either way, there was no denying the reality that Woo Jiho had just entered the shop and, ignoring Jiseok's raised eyebrows and Yukwon who was both free and nearest to the door, he was steadily making his way over to Kyung.

He smiled as he came to a stop in front of him. 'Hello, Park Kyung-ssi.'

And, quite incongruously, what Kyung was most aware of in that moment was Yukwon smirking across the shop, pointing first at Kyung and then at Woo Jiho before twisting his hand up to wiggle his middle finger in the air.

A/N: So yeah, this fic will have quite a few vulgar jokes, dialogues, F-bombs and whatnot throughout. All of these have made appearances in my other fics too, of course, but they're relatively more frequent here. For this fic, at least, this is how I ended up characterising Kyung (and Zico, who will be revealed more in the next chapter) XD. 

So, thoughts, anyone? ^_^