A rose a day. It appears every afternoon.  A pop of color against your dull grey locker catches your eye daily. A silky white ribbon is wrapped around the evergreen stem, securing it to the vent near the top of your locker for all bystanders to gawk at.

Sometime during the duration of your forty-five minute lunch break in between classes, an anonymous someone slips out of sight to deliver it. You never know who, and honestly, you believe that you never will. You and your friend watch your fellow students with a careful eye every afternoon in the lunch hall, awaiting any sign of your so-called “admirer.”

That friend stands by you presently, her arms crossed, eyes fixated on you as you remove the rose from its perch. You twist the stem between my fingers as she sighs, a hint of envy displayed in the exhaled breath of air. “Y/N, I’m jealous of how fortunate you are.”

You shoot her a sideways glance. “Really?”

Your friend blows a strand of her messy hair away from her eyes.  “You’ve got some guy slipping you one of the most romantic gifts ever known, and I’m left  with my television dramas to swoon over.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but you force it away, continuing to twist and twirl the fragrant flower in your fingers. You are always attempting to imagine what your “admirer” looks like, and that is what you are trying to do currently. Maybe he is the definition of breathtaking. Maybe he has a voice that could iron out all worries that crinkles one’s soul. Maybe he has hands that can calm shaking nerves, or eyes that can tell a thousand fantasies with a single bat of midnight eyelashes.  Or maybe he is nothing as you imagine. Maybe he is some tacky senior attempting to fool you because he has no productive way to spend his time. Then again, your admirer does know how to steal someone’s heart, whoever he may be.

Your friend snaps her fingers in your face, drawing you back to the authentic world. You pull your eyes away from the silky petals still seated between your fingers to look at her, somewhat annoyed.

“What?”

“The bell rang, it’s time for class.” Your friend huffs, rolling her eyes, equally as annoyed. “Stop daydreaming.”

You give her a displeased look but don’t argue. She pushes the straps of her backpack up her shoulders and begins travelling down the hallway towards your classroom. You let out a soft sigh, slipping the rose into the side pocket of your messenger bag that hung by your side. You follow after your friend as she walks through the crowds of students, her fluffy hair bouncing behind her. You both make it to your classroom and your friends pries the creaking door open to allow you inside. You squeeze past her but immediately bump into someone who is exiting the room. You stumble backwards, bumping into the beige wall due to the impact. Your eyes flash upwards to confront the person—or boy—who was looking down at you.

He blinks slowly, almost like he was processing what was happening, his long lashes casting shadows across his perfectly angled face. You swallow and lift a hand to move your bag that was beginning to make its way off of your shoulder. After a moment, you recognized him as Kim Taehyung, the boy who sat a few rows behind you in class. He was still somewhat fresh to your academy, recently transferred from an upper-class academy in Daegu. You two had never spoken before, and you hardly hear him speak up in class, and if he did, it was normally a distant mumble escaping his naturally glossy lips.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you…” You say quietly, awestruck by how astonishingly handsome he was face-to-face. He opens his mouth to say something, and yet he is interrupted by the shrill squawk of the teacher.

“And where are you headed, Taehyung?” She demands, peering over her glasses, which are balanced lowly on the bridge of her nose. Taehyung glances over his shoulder at her, a polite, lopsided smile present on his lips. “Just to use the bathroom, ma’am.”

The teacher grumbles something and shoes him away with her hand, polished fingernails flashing vibrant red under the artificial overhead lights. Taehyung’s ebony gaze returns to you for a moment, irises flicking up and down as he gives you a once over. He tilts his head to the side and says, “Excuse me.” and then shuffles past you and out into the vastly empty hallway. Your eyes follow him until the teacher clears and you jump, startled. “Y/N, please take a seat so we may begin.” You duck your head, embarrassed by your vacancy, and quickly make your way over to your seat positioned by the window overlooking the academy’s front lawn.  Your friend, who sits beside you, wiggles her eyebrows in your direction, also giving you a sly and teasing smirk.

As you sit down, you can feel the crushingly envious, yet rather vicious, gazes of female classmates on the back of your head. Taehyung is one of those “desired” students, the one who most girls are dying to have by their side, and if he isn’t, they’ll most likely wither up and flitter away like a dried autumn leaf.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, and as you do so, your friend nudges you in the ribs playfully. You look over at her and she raises her eyebrows at you once again.

“What?” You whisper, not entirely desiring to draw in the attention of your easily-irritated teacher.

Your friend gives you a half-grin. “That was low-key flirtatious conduct, Y/N.”

“What?” You stammer. “N-no, I didn’t even—what are you talking about?”

Your friend shakes her head and returns her gaze to her textbook before her, not uttering anything more.

You scowl in frustration with your friend’s irrational behavior, but you soon brush it off and pull out your own textbook to study. As you engross yourself in the occasionally baffling words of the textbook, the creak of the classroom door opening alerts you of someone’s return. Your gaze wanders upwards and  you spot Taehyung tip-toeing back inside the stifling room equipped with no air conditioning. He obviously feels your eyes on his movements, because just before he seats himself in his rickety plastic chair, his own gaze meets yours. Your locked eyes stay stationary for what felt like a lifetime before you break the connection. You can already feel a light dusting of petal pink blush rise to your cheeks as you look away.  

Throughout the entire class, you still have that blush displayed on your cheeks because you can’t help but wonder if Taehyung sends you glances at any time. If you had the opportunity, you would be sending him secretive glances out of the corner of your eye, but it was inconvenient due to your seating arrangement.  Besides, your friend would spot your actions and then taunt you humorously for who knows how many days or weeks or even months.

By the time the bell rang, signaling that students were now free to depart for home, you were beginning to sweat. only the heat of mid-summer circulating like a bakery’s contagious aroma. The classroom had accumulated so much heat that it was becoming unbearable. You gather your belongings, careful not to leave behind any supplies, and stash them away in your bag before standing.  You wait for your friend to pack all of her extraneous—and highly unneeded— items into her oversized backpack, and soon you are engulfed in the steady trickle of students exiting the room.

You turn to your friend once you are freed from the clutches of the over-heated classroom, and ask, “How about we watch a movie at my place? You can stay for dinner too.”
“I can’t,” Your friend says, pouting. “My dad has dinner with his girlfriend, and I have to tag along.” She scrunches her nose as she says the sentence, and you giggle.

“Tomorrow then?” You propose and she shrugs. “Sure, why not.”

You both walk side-by-side down the hall and to the front doors, and that’s when you recall that you had abandoned something in your locker. “Ah, I forgot my phone in my locker.”

“Aish, Y/N, stop being so careless.” Your friend groans. “Fine, hurry up or I’m leaving without you.”

You begin backtracking down the hall and towards your locker. You halt suddenly when you discover scatterings of pink rose petals surrounding your locker. Your mouth is agape as you stare at the sight before you. “What the hell….?” You mutter, your meaningless question trailing off. A single rose, yes, you have seen it, but an entire gathering of petals distributed so elegantly before you? That was a new one. Your admirer is taking new heights to his presentations, and you are speechless as how to describe the emotions you are feeling.  How could anyone possibly go to these lengths just to please your eye and your romantic sentiments? Hell, you had never even received a Valentine in February when you were eleven, let alone a daily barrage of breathtaking beauty disguising itself in a rose’s petals.

You kneel down and pull out a notebook from your bag. You charily pick up handfuls of the petals between your fingers and lay them courteously on the first blank page. Once you are finished collecting the petals, you shut the notebook’s cover and hold the spiraled book to your chest, watchful so as not to let any petals flutter to the dull checkered floors. You twist open the lock of your locker and extract your phone. You then head back down the hallway and out the front doors into the outside world. You breathe in the fresh air gratefully and look around for your friend. You spot her near the benches located beside the bicycle rack and you walk over to meet her.

“You’ll never believe what I found at my locker.” You say.

Your friend’s eyes widen. She obviously knows what you were going to say. “Oh my god, Y/N, let me see it!”

You pull the notebook away from your chest, hands still locked securely around the bent and worn book.  “It’s not just a rose.” You say and open the cover.

Your friend’s eyes bulge and she squeals. “That’s twice in one day! Holy ! Y/N, he must really like you!” Your friend’s high-pitched squeak quickly increased in volume each word she said, and you winced at the intensity.

“Just quiet down.” You complain, although you laugh slightly.

Your friend’s joyful rambling pauses and her eyes widen even further. She reaches forward and grabs your shoulders. “Y/N! I think I know who it is!”

“What? Who?”

She gasps for air in between a fit of giggles that sound like they had drifted from a small rabbit. “I think it’s Taehyung!”

It was your turn for your eyes to bulge. “Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes, silly!” Your friend claps her hands, excited, over the moon even.  You, however, are a tad skeptical. “I don’t think so…”

Your friend puts a finger to your lips, shushing you. “Think about it. He left to go use the ‘bathroom’ right before class started.”

“So?” You say blandly, not daring to let the hope creep into your voice.

“So?” Your friend shouts. “He obviously snuck out to deliver those petals to your locker! It’s genius!”
You shake your head, faking disbelief. You feel a flutter in your chest at the thought of Kim Taehyung being your secret admirer, but you’re not sure whether to trust your friend’s inkling or not. “Alright, fine, whatever you say.” You say casually and you begin walking down the beaten sidewalk towards the bus stop.

~✿~

They are now coming twice a day; the roses and the petals. Every day after lunch, there is a single rose. Every day, right as you are released from school, there are the petals. You still collect the roses so that they may thrive in your mother’s vase at your residence. You still sweep up every petal so you may dry them and keep them in a decorated box, safely secured in your nightstand drawer.

Your friend still insists that it’s Kim Taehyung, the so called “romantically driven mastermind” behind the thoughtful gifts. You want it to be true, so desperately. The boy is utterly perfect in every aspect. But honestly, you just could not picture such a boy lusting over you. It was unreal, something that could only exist in your distant imagination. You wonder if your admirer will ever reveal his identity, or if he will forever stay anonymous until two years from now, when you graduate. Even then, will you still receive these mystic roses? Will they continue to come until there is not a rose left to be plucked of its petals?

You sigh in slight frustration as you remove the fresh rose from your locker’s door. Your friend was not present today to pester you with unruly theories or plague you with fantasies because she was at home, sick and resting in bed. She had caught a cold the night she went out to dinner with her father and his girlfriend, and wouldn’t be returning to school for a few days. It is only you and your roses, your precious roses.

You unravel the delicately tied bow from the rose’s stem and wrap it around your fingers, letting the sparkling white ribbon tighten around your skin. Once again, you carefully place the rose in the pocket of your bag on full display. You then take your usual route to your classroom. You manage to pry open the thick door, releasing a puff of air as you enter the stuffy room. You seem to be late, because once you enter, your teacher gives you a disapproving scowl.

“Y/N, you know the rules of being late to my class.” She scolds and you shrink back slightly as you hear the quiet giggles of your classmates. Everyone in the room knew all too well what the punishment for being late was.  You bow your head. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“That is quite a good apology, Y/N, but I am afraid it’s bathroom cleanup for you after class.” You nod your head miserably. You can’t imagine what horrors will be awaiting for you in the soiled girl’s bathroom.  Your teacher instructs you to take your seat and you do so obediently. You plop down in your seat, slouching you shoulders as your cross you arms sulkily. You probably look infantile, but you don’t care. Bathroom cleanup is never pleasant or an easy task, not in your academy. You run a hand through your hair in quiet frustration, and that is when you feel a pair of eyes carefully watching you from behind.

You casually glance over your shoulder to identify the person watching you. As you scan the seats lining the back wall, your eyes meet with someone’s own gaze. You swallow as you stare back at Kim Taehyung. He has his chin rested delicately on the palm of his hand, a closed-lipped smile appearing on his face. He wiggles his fingers at you in a wordless hello. You blink rapidly and hastily twist in your seat. If you weren’t mistaken, you could hear a nearly inaudible chuckle drift from his direction.

~✿~

Ominous grey clouds have already gathered by the time you exit the girl’s restroom, hauling the janitor’s cart behind you. You blow hair away from your face, dampened with exhausted sweat. You are tired, hands sore, from the labor of scrubbing the seemingly endless filth of the public restroom. And it was only because you missed a few precious moments of class. You scoff quietly as you lock the cart away in the cleaning supply closet, and then you head back towards your classroom. You tap politely on the opened door and your teacher’s eyes flick up from the papers spread before her. Her eyebrow twitches. “Are you finished?”

You nod. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good.” She pushes her glasses up her pointed nose. “You may go home.”
You give her a quiet bow of appreciation before wordlessly walking out, leaving her to her assignments that were I need of grades.

As you walk down the emptied halls towards your locker, you are not expecting to find a small scrap of pink construction paper taped to your locker. Your eyes narrow suspiciously as you lift a cautious hand to strip it away from the cold metal door. Your eyes flick over the unruly scribbling, a disgrace to proper handwriting.

Meet me outside by the bus stop after cleanup.

~T

T? As in Taehyung? You shake yourself mentally. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” You mumble to yourself, crumpling the paper and shoving it into the pocket of your cardigan. You pull open your locker and remove your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and slamming your locker shut. So he finally is deciding to show himself, is he? You feel a burst of excitement but it is quickly distinguished by sudden doubt. What if he is nothing as you imagine? What if he is some thirty-some-year-old man who is stalking you, perhaps even a murderer?

You huff a laugh. You obviously watch too many movies. You stride down the corridor and to the front doors, pushing them open with double hands. Just as you emerge outside, the sky starts crying a few scattered drops of rain. They explode against the cracked pavement and the pleasant aroma of a summer rainstorm makes itself present.

You move out from under the overhang that shields you from the icy drops. You shiver as the rain picks up speed, covering your skin with tiny puddles. You’re halfway to the protection of the bus stop when the rain transforms from a calm storm into a downpour. You don’t run because you know there’s no point, you’re already wet down to the bone. The raindrops are cold and you shiver, instantly regretting your hatred towards the heated weather earlier today. You finally make it to the bus stop and you step under the overhand protecting the bench.

You wipe water away from your eyes and peer through the sheets of falling aqua. You feel a twinge when you realize your admirer is nowhere near, not present in any way. You assume that perhaps the rain delayed his arrival. Or maybe he has a family emergency. Or maybe he stood you up. You shake your head, you should have never gotten your hopes up; you should have known they would be crushed.

You sit down heavily on the bench. The bus stop gives you close to no protection from the rain; it only blocks the breeze that has risen. You place your bag beside you, already assuming that the contents were soggy, most likely destroyed. As you sit, impatiently waiting the downpour to cease, a flash of color beside you hooks your attention. You glance sideways, curious. There, lying delicately just to the right, was a bright magenta rose. You blink, completely confused, wondering if you are hallucinating. You reach out, forefinger the petals, and without a doubt, the rose is materialized. It wasn’t there a moment ago, you are sure of it. You lift it from its bed on the rusted bench and gaze at it.

That’s when a flash of movement catches your attention for the second time. You jump in your seat when you notice the sudden presence of a person. He is leaning against the backing of the bus stop, completely wet, clothes clinging to his body. Your mouth drops open when you raise your eyes to look at the boy’s face.

It isn’t just any boy. No, it was him. Taehyung. His dark eyes are on you, a sweet smile displayed on his lips. You can’t believe what you are seeing. This can’t possibly be happening.

“Hi there.” Taehyung says. Your breath catches in your throat and you almost choke. The sound of his deep voice, soft like silk, sends shivers up your spine.

“U-uh, hi…” You stammer quietly, eyes wide.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” he apologizes. “I was a bit sidetracked.”

“That’s okay.” You hear yourself say. You stand from your seat, the rose still tucked carefully between your fingers. “Why are you here?”

Taehyung looks at you for a moment, like he is wondering if you are joking. When he sees that you’re not, he chuckles quietly. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I’m waiting for someone.” You say.

“He’s already here.”

You fake a laugh. “Stop toying with me, okay?”

“I’m not.”

Your mouth is dry. “B-but… I don’t understand…”

“What’s not to understand?”

“Why me?” You ask the question rather quietly, and you’re afraid that he didn’t hear it.

“Why not?” He says, taking you by surprise. “I’m not going to waste my roses on just anyone, Y.N.”

You fumble for something to say, but you never get the chance. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, but no words escape.

Taehyung laughs again at your awkwardness. “You’re so cute, you know that right?”

He pushes away from where he stood and takes a step closer to you. You swallow, mouth dry, as his eyes connect with yours. His sandy blonde hair is limp and hanging over his eyes, dripping water onto his eyelashes. He blinks slowly and the droplets scatter and roll down his cheeks, only to fall to his already drenched shirt.

Breathtaking. That’s all you can think was that single word, breathtaking.

“Are you sure you’re not toying with me?” You whisper.

Taehyung hums in response. “Positive.”

You clutch onto your rose and cross your arms, positioning a barrier between you both. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, he just glances down but his eyes soon return to your face. You swallow again and look in the other direction, already feeling the first traces of blush ebb its way onto your cheeks. The rain has stopped, and the sun is already beginning to emerge from its hiding-spot behind the gloomy clouds.

“The rain stopped, I should be heading home now.” You say, not looking at Taehyung, although you could still feel his darkened eyes on you.

You spare a quick glance at him and you see a smile has returned to his mouth. That’s when he leans in and places a delicate kiss on your lips. Your eyes widen in alarm. You’re too startled to react in any way, so all you can do is stand there. His soft lips just barely close around yours, and when you finally gain the will to kiss him back, he draws away and is already beginning to walk backwards, out of reach. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Y/N.”

“W-wait a minute!” You call after him, but he has already turned his back to you and is wordlessly walking away.

Your hand is shaking and you are blushing even more when you reach up and touch your lips, which are now itching into a smile. You rub your fingers along your lower lip, still quite stunned, and break into a large grin.
You look down at the rose still present in your freehand, and you lift it, clutching it to your chest, yet still very cautious so as not to damage the frail petals.
This particular rose will be one that you will always treasure.