"How do I tell someone I love them in flower?"

Jisoo gushes at the request - he's heard it maybe a million times, but still, it never fails to make his heart swell. Thinking of that random customer using his flowers from his shop in the middle of the crowded city mall to confess their love adds another puff to his ego and a spring to his step. His head is held higher as he directs the bashful customer to his display of carnations, particular focus on the white ones, representing pure love while reciting the symbolism and significance behind the petals with enthusiasm. 

"They'll love them, I promise," Jisoo says, handing over a perfectly crafted bunch of carnations, spotted here and there with the occasional bell flower to say: "My love is unchanging."

"How do I break up with someone in flower?"

Jisoo takes difficulty in hiding his shock with a professional response. "Oh..." he fidgets with his fingers behind his back, noticing the eyes of the customer lined with red in irritation. He feels unnecessarily ill. Thinking of that customer using his flowers from his shop in the middle of the crowded city mall to tell someone they no longer love them pulls a dark cloud over his heart and dampens his pride. He awkwardly directs them to the collection of black roses, stuttering over the painfully calamitous symbolism with sinking disappointment.

He says nothing but a 'thank you', accepting the money with a warm but empty smile, handing over his delicately organized bunch of black roses, the occasional bright daisy to say: "Goodbye."

"How do I say sorry in flower?"

Jisoo has to stop himself jumping in excitement. They eyes of the customer shine, glistening with hope and determination as his fumbles with his car keys. He's elated, beaming with glee as he nods enthusiastically. Thinking of that regular using his flowers from his shop in the middle of the crowded city mall to sway their lover back to them bubbles giddiness in his stomach and lightens his heart by a ton. Taking the elbow of the customer - who seems equally as happy as Jisoo - he guides him to his stand of hyacinths, pointing out the purple buds that equate to the plead for forgiveness.

"I'm certain they'll adore them," Jisoo grins, handing over an elevated arrangement of blooming purple hyacinths, an occasional appearance from a yellow rose to say: "Forgive and forget."

Jisoo knows this customer only by name and a number, but despite that, he feels like he's involved in so much more.

Jisoo swivels contently on his chair, seated at the counter with pen on paper, humming a soft tune as he sketches out some random architectural structure on the back of a flyer. Amidst the Wednesday afternoon drag, Jisoo's shop goes unoccupied, similar to the rest of the mall with shoppers sparsely distributed across the three-floor span. He's always wondered why Wednesday was such a slow day for business but looks forward to Fridays, where hopeless romantics flood his shop in preparation for their fancy dinners ,where they plan to whip out a bouquet of his beautifully (if he does say so himself) organized flowers.

The jarring of the glass door sets him in a sudden fright, the bell being cut short by it forcefully being slammed shut again (Jisoo's surprised it didn't shatter, but if it did, he'd be sure to sue).

Red-faced and sporting powerful strides, Jisoo's met with a determined looking customer making his way around the elaborate flower displays and to the counter. Loud and angrily, a note is slapped down on the marble, under the extended sleeve that covers the customer's hand.

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

He's breathing heavily like he's run from one end of the mall to the other and has a strong scowl set into his brow. Jisoo's taken back, swallowing awkwardly at the peculiar symbolism requested.

"That's...that's new," he laughs nervously, the fierce glare on the customer's face not softening as he hoped it would. He clears his throat. "Any-any specific kind of... you?"

The customer, blowing the obscure strands of hair from his face, shifts his stance. "The kind of you you say after you've been fooled twice and cheated on thrice," he replies, strangely calmly but flippant nonetheless. 

"Oh," Jisoo nods, "I see." His heart momentarily fills with sympathy for the stranger - he can't imagine the hurt he's experienced - but it weirdly dissipates as the seeming distaste and bitterness in his eyes (he clearly isn't heartbroken, just pissed off).

Jisoo moves from behind the counter and towards the shelves of flower arrangments. "You might consider the geranium flower," he suggests, motioning towards the hot pink petals, "typically, it's used to convey the idea that the person receiving them is dense."

The customer looks at the flowers respectively. "So, I'll just be calling him stupid?"

"Pretty much," Jisoo shrugs, retrieving a stem and offering it to the customer. He sniffs and hums.

"Smells...like a flower..." he answers uneasily, side-eyeing Jisoo awkwardly like the florist would flip out on him in his flower-scent ignorance.

Jisoo laughs, spinning the stem between his thumb and forefinger. "Noticing flowers by scent is a talent." He watches the colors blend quickly. "Like how a chef has a taste pallet. It takes a while to master." His gaze lands on the customer, who stood a plenty inches below him, watching the flower also. He looks up with a now soft look and Jisoo notices the initial rage having faded from his eyes almost entirely.

Must be the flowers, Jisoo thought, who doesn't get calmed by the smell of forget-me-nots.

"Anway," Jisoo snaps himself from unintentionally staring at the customer's eyes and slots the geranium flower back in its place, "you probably want something stronger than stupid, right?"

The customer nods, cheeks still tinted red from his arrival and looks around. "Is there a flower that says 'I wish you get hit by a bus and die'?"

Jisoo opens his mouth and hesitates, thinking. "No..." he spins and points to a collection of petunias with a smile, "but petunia flowers represent anger and resentment. And if you want to really go the full nine yards, the black rose symbolizes death and farewell?"

"Not black roses," the customer shakes his head, diverting his gaze to the floor, "he broke up with me the first time with black roses."

Jisoo nods, resisting the impulsive urge to bundle this stranger up in a hug from the sudden awkward and sadness in his eyes. The tension thickens, Jisoo being able to sense the uncomfort at the mention of his heartbreak. He tries to relieve it. "Well, maybe some asphodel, which literally translate to: "my regrets will follow you to the grave"."

The customer chuckles (Jisoo relaxes as the stiffness melts away) and nods along, picking his look up and following wherever Jisoo's hands and suggestions went. Eventually, he asks: "How much for a bouquet of everything you just mentioned but with poison ivy hidden in the stems?"

Jisoo laughs, hoping the tint in his cheeks wasn't obvious. He probably flower-talked the customer into hurrying the conversation and welcomed death openly at the thought. "I don't know, about..." he bounces on his heels as he thinks, "$15.67, with a tip of a few years for attempted assault?"

The customer laughs along with a cute and choppy laugh that, in Jisoo's head, resembles something like a bird. "Death by flower!"

Jisoo tries not to stare at the happiness blossoming everywhere across his face, quite in contrast to the pure distaste and anger that was exhibited when he first entered. Jisoo is much more fond of the happiness, it makes his face glow. "Tell you what," Jisoo begins, "for $14, I'll give you a bouquet of all the passive aggressive flowers in the shop, and you can keep the jail time."

With a smile, the customer agrees: "Deal."

He calls back to the shop a few days later, entering calmly and with no intention of smashing Jisoo's front door. He looks lighter, his shoulders prouder, like a weight's been lifted off them.

Jisoo greets him with a grin. "Back for more cursing in flower?"

The customer leans against the counter as Jisoo sits opposite. "No, actually," he smiles, "I was wondering if you could do a delivery?"

"Of course," Jisoo replies, ignoring the bubble of disappointment in his stomach over the lack flower-swearing adventures today. He retrieves the log book, opening it to the next free space and slides it over to the customer. "Just sign your name, phone number and the place of delivery. What can I get for you."

"A bouquet of lilies," the customer answers, concentrating on scribbling his name, "to the city hospital."

Jisoo nods. "I'll get my delivery boy to deliver them over as soon as he can." 

The customer thanks him, a sweet smile plastered on his face. 

Behind him, the ring of the phone echoes around the back office, and Jisoo excuses himself to answer it. When he returns minutes later, he's alone again with nothing but a name, a number and a white carnation strategically placed by Lee Jihoon, written in scribbled handwriting.