The morning started off stressful for Seokjin, and Yoongi could see the man slowly losing his grip on his temper more and more with each passing moment. Not that Yoongi could blame him - things were crumbling around the older man like autumn leaves; noisily and bitterly so.

First, Seokjin had forgotten to iron his best button-up the night before and was now ‘regrettably rumpled’ as Yoongi had put it. They had woken up to all of their sunflowers contracting some sort of disease, their leaves turning brown and their petals a wilting gray. Kiara had called to say the shoot was being delayed an hour because of weather conditions making the roads too rainy to drive on safely. The shoot being canceled completely had been mentioned as a possibility, but because of the distance from the shop they wouldn’t know for sure until after they left, much to Seokjin’s chagrin, since they were going to have to close the shop; originally, Yoongi’s brother was supposed to come in to watch the place, but he had contracted food poisoning that morning. And while they were no longer living in the bank’s red zones, every day still counted a lot towards their budget, which Seokjin usually handled. All in all, it seemed that everything that could go wrong was trying to.

He had already snapped at Yoongi several times; over a forgotten delivery that neither of them had wanted to do, then at the fact that Yoongi hadn’t pulled their final ‘must go today’ wildflowers to the front, and then that he couldn’t find his glasses.

It took a lot to really get Seokjin worked up, so Yoongi opted to fall into himself like a protective clam and wait out the storm that was Seokjin’s temper, trying not to aggravate him further and instead do his best now that it was his turn to be the reassuring one. It was only fair.

“I just can’t find them anywhere !” Seokjin slammed the drawer to the front desk shut for the eighth time, his face red with frustration and his voice a dark hiss. “I need them to drive, for god’s sake!”

“Have you checked the bathroom?” Yoongi suggested timidly.

“ Yes !” Seokjin roughly ran a hand through his hair, “I’m about to scream.”

“Scream, if you like,” Yoongi mumbled quietly. “I’ll check the office again.”

Seokjin’s response was a long wail-like sound, and Yoongi was glad to have been out of range for that particular sonic blast, hurrying down the steps and clicking on the ugly purple desk lamp. He stared for a moment, his hand dropped back to his side and he looked down at the glasses that were sitting right in the middle of the desk, as if quietly mocking. He sighed, picking them up and starting up the stairs, pleased that he could bring his partner some good news. “Seokjin! I found--!”

“HEY! WHAT THE F--” Seokjin’s voice was cut off by a loud thudding noise just as Yoongi resurfaced in the main part of the shop. He looked up in time to see Seokjin manhandling some scraggly figure to the ground, and Yoongi almost dropped the glasses back down the stairs.

“Seokjin?!”

“ I saw you! ” Seokjin wheezed, his arms wrapped around the boy’s shoulders, the black stretched-out T-shirt bunched up around his armpits and revealing a thin torso that was attempting to curl its way out of Seokjin’s grasp like a snail slowly leaving its shell. “I saw you stealing my cookies, you little thief!”

“ Seokjin, calm down !” Yoongi rushed over, leaving the glasses on the front desk and lifting his hands up in what he hoped was a pacifying gesture. “You’re gonna squish the kid, okay?”

It took a couple moments of awkward tugging and tangled limbs and more than one elbow to the chest(both accidental and intentional), but finally Yoongi managed to separate the two of them. Seokjin’s hair was ruffled and disheveled in every direction, his face flushed red as he glared at the boy. Now that he was upright and not in a headlock, Yoongi recognized him as the doe-eyed kid who had stolen half the plate of sugar cookies the day before. Yoongi had one hand clutching both boys’ forearms, and he tugged them a little further apart to avoid any further down-spiraling.

“Hold on just a minute, okay? This is a flower shop, not a wrestling ring.” He stood up a little straighter, and they all panted in silence for a minute before he continued, “No one is going anywhere until we figure out exactly what is going on here. You, sit there.” Yoongi half-tugged half-pushed Seokjin towards the seat behind the desk, where the frowning man sat reluctantly. “You,” Yoongi walked the scrawny kid to one side, yanking out a folding chair with one hand and deftly standing it up. “Here.”

The boy looked liable to bolt as soon as his bottom hit the cold metal of the chair, so Yoongi kept one hand firmly on his shoulder.

“Look, kid,” he started, taking a deep breath, “I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

“As if you could,” the kid snapped, scowling a little. Yoongi squeezed at his shoulder, his lips in until they were a thinly pressed line.

His voice lowered and he leaned in to whisper in the kid’s ear. “Don’t test me, gangly-legs. You may be taller but I’m older and I know more places to wound a man.” He paused then, deciding to bring in the Big Guns. “And I’ve worked in this shop long enough to know a few useful things about plant effects on the human body,” he hissed, hoping his voice sounded calm and menacing enough.  

The kid looked at him, obviously torn between laughing at the ridiculousness of Yoongi’s statement and wondering if he should believe him. “Look, I didn’t do anything wrong. Those cookies were freebies.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to take all of them!” Seokjin snapped, now wearing the glasses Yoongi had found for him, and it took away some from his aura of intimidation to be blinking heavily behind the spectacles.

“He’s right, kid,” Yoongi began, pushing him back down when he tried to stand up against Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi crouched down until he was eye-level with the kid, his thin narrowed eyes meeting the boy’s wide, concerned ones. “However, I also know what ‘hungry’ looks like when I see it.”

The boy said nothing, but he shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“You’d better tell me exactly what’s going on. And I want the truth, okay?”

There was no answer, just a very small teenager in a very big body staring down at his hands like a toddler in time-out. He twiddled his thumbs and frowned, flushing with embarrassment.

“Kid,” Yoongi squeezed his shoulder again, but this time to placate, instead of threaten. “What’s your name?”

The boy continued to stare at his wrists until Yoongi asked one more time, then finally mumbled, “Jungkook.”

“Well, Jungkook,” Yoongi smiled a little, hoping it came across as reassuring. “If something’s going on at home, you can tell me straight, you understand? I’m no stranger to such things. You’re about, what, 18? 19?”

“It’s stupid,” Jungkook mumbled, blinking hard in the direction of the geraniums. “And it’s my own fault.”

“What is?”

“Well...my parents can’t live in the city because of work, so they wire me money to live on while I’m in school at the art college…” Jungkook shifted in his seat several times, as if debating whether he could still just bail or not. “But at the beginning of this month, I forgot my wallet in one of my classrooms and it got stolen. I’d ask my parents for more money, but...they’re already having a hard time, so.”

At this point Seokjin had moved up to stand at the boy’s other side, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his lip jutted out in disapproval. “Why don’t you bum off your friends like a normal kid?”

The comment seemed to cut particularly sharp into Jungkook, who hunched his shoulders and mumbled, “I just transferred at the start of the semester, so… I don’t have any friends yet.” With renewed vigor, he lifted his head up to Yoongi and declared, “I’ve almost made it halfway through the month, though, so I’ll be okay! I really didn’t want to cause trouble, though, I’m...I’m sorry…”

Yoongi looked up through his bangs at Seokjin, who sighed and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if fending off a migraine.

“Oh my god…”

“There should be a frozen microwaveable meal in the fridge downstairs,” Yoongi said, gesturing for Seokjin to take his place at Jungkook’s shoulder before disappearing downstairs. Seokjin looked down at the boy for a moment, then let out another exasperated sigh.

“What else have you been living on?”

Jungkook glanced off to the side, biting at his bottom lip. “I’ve been rationing out a pack of ramen and what’s left of my rice. But...free samples at the supermarket, mostly.”

“Are you serious?”

“It can add up.”

“You look like you could eat an entire extra-large pizza by yourself for one meal,” Seokjin shook his head in disapproval, “There’s no way that’s enough food for you. You’re gonna get sick, kid.”

A distant beeping sound resided, and Yoongi came back upstairs a moment later, carrying a steaming cardboard container with a hand towel, holding it out for the boy. Jungkook took it with trembling hands, then started scarfing it down with impressive vigor.

“You’re gonna burn your tongue, kid, calm down.” Seokjin shook his head, half-laughing as he fetched Jungkook a glass of water.

Yoongi looked down at his phone, looking up at Seokjin and stating, “We’re gonna be late if we don’t head out now, and the rain may have stopped but the roads will still be crap.”

“Mm,” Seokjin agreed with a frown, glancing over at Jungkook before locking eyes with Yoongi. “We should take him with us.”

“What?!” Jungkook coughed through his mouth of food, looking panicked.

“You still owe us,” Seokjin smiled over the glass of water, setting it down next to the boy, “For taking the cookies and making us late.”

“Besides,” Yoongi finished Seokjin’s thought, “We’re all going out to eat afterwards to celebrate and I have a feeling you could use it.”

Jungkook’s knees laxed, the all-too-soon empty boxed meal tipping slightly as he looked about to cry. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to do that. I really didn’t want to be a problem.”

“Oh, you won’t be getting it for free,” Seokjin added with glee, smirking. “You’ll have to use your body to earn it.”

The boy’s eyes widened like saucers, and even Yoongi had to laugh darkly before playfully thumping his palm on the back of Seokjin’s head.

“We’re going to a photoshoot, kid, helping a friend out by being models.” Yoongi explained, “A normal kind of photoshoot, so it’s nothing like that.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing like that,” Seokjin smirked, “Wherever did you get that idea?”

Yoongi elbowed Seokjin in the ribs, making him grunt and then whine. It seemed Seokjin’s mood had finally lifted. “You go start warming up the car, I’ll close up here.”

“Alright,” Seokjin started to straighten out the cuffs of his sleeves that had gotten forced askew in the scuffle earlier, “The kid looks a mess, though, I’ll text Taehyung to bring an extra set of clothes.”

~~

An hour and twenty minutes later, Jungkook blinked up into the bright overhead lights, doubly reflected in a series of silver sheeted reflectors, all aimed at his face like a satellite trying to capture a signal. He wore a red and black plaid flannel shirt, covered by a soft white sweater, and his hair had been styled mercilessly into a youthful sort of curliness that he wasn’t sure if he liked or hated. He awkwardly shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and kicked his tanned boots at the ground absently.

“It’s okay, Jungkook,” Kiara reassured him, “I’m one of those art chicks that likes to see authenticity in my shoots, so you can just act like yourself, and it’ll be perfect!”

Just behind the camera and still adjusting his shirt, Yoongi smirked to Seokjin. “He’s so nervous, it’s kind of cute.”

The taller male had spent the last twenty minutes in makeup thanking the powers-that-be that Kiara had had a small wardrobe selection ready for backup, so his wrinkly button-up had been replaced by a loose dark red sweater that draped languidly off his shoulders. However, this jubilation hadn’t lasted long once Seokjin realized there were gaping holes left by drop stitches.

“Yoongi, what do I do?” Seokjin hissed, trying in vain to cover the majority of the holes by crossing his arms over his stomach with his sleeved forearms. “It’s not like we’re actual models here, I haven’t worked out in months and I ate like a horse for breakfast.”

“You look fine.” He looked more than fine, he was making Yoongi want to punch him in the face.

“Easy for you to say, you got a whole sweater,” Seokjin whined, pouting at Yoongi and tugging at the boy’s black sweatshirt, PUMA written across his chest in large white block letters. Yoongi had to admit, he felt like he’d lucked out. Nothing too weird had been requested

“Okay, next, Yoongi!” Kiara called out, waving the boy towards the main set. “No, Jungkook, you stay there. I’d like to get a few shots with both of you.”

Jungkook stopped, mid-step towards walking away, and looking at Yoongi with wide-eyes. With all the feigned nonchalance he could muster, Yoongi patted Jungkook on the arm and smirked. “Let’s try to look like best friends or something, hm?”

Yoongi took hold of Jungkook’s opposite shoulder, his arm wrapped around Jungkook’s neck as he leaned his forehead in to touch the slightly-shaking boy’s. He gave a warm smile, looking at the camera. Jungkook seemed more than a little surprised, but at last he leaned in, as well.

“Don’t be so stressed,” Yoongi said, as if it was only to Jungkook and not also to himself. “I’ll buy you meat later. So think of meat.”

He glanced over to smirk at Jungkook and was instantly glad he did - the boy’s face lit up in a toothy grin that made the muscles on his face bunch together towards his nose, making it scrunch up.

“Are you bribing me with food like I’m a crying toddler refusing to take the family Christmas photo?”

“Yes. Because you are a child.” Yoongi’s tone remained light and musical, so that Jungkook could respond in kind. Less than two hours ago they hadn’t even spoken, but Yoongi remembered what it was like to not eat, what it was like to say ‘No, I can handle it on my own,’ and he felt like Jungkook was another version of himself - albeit a much less vertically challenged one. Somehow, the shared struggle made it easy to break through what would normally be awkward small talk and straight into the kind of sarcastic banter Yoongi never got enough of. He didn’t pity Jungkook - he just understood him. Stupid, hungry, and trying to fill up that hunger with a bellyful of sass.

“I should take offense at that, right?” Jungkook laughed, nudging Yoongi with his shoulder. “You’re smaller than me, after all. But then again, I really would like some meat.”

“Hey, don’t talk down to me, kid.”

“I would stop if I could, adult .”

“Okay, that was perfect! Now let’s have Seokjin get in there. Thanks, Jungkook.” Kiara called out over the top of her camera, carefully picking up the tripod and adjusting its legs slightly lower. Jungkook sent Yoongi another smile, stepping off to go wait with the younger kids. As he passed Seokjin, the man still clinging to his middle like he could hide his stomach entirely, the older man leaned in towards the younger and stage-whispered, “We found a table of snacks in the side room off near the bathroom. Free for all.”

“Hey, don’t ruin your dinner,” Yoongi called after him teasingly. Jungkook smirked, then rushed off. Seokjin came up and leaned in to bump shoulders with Yoongi, his self-consciousness still keeping his arms wrapped around his torso and making him giggle nervously.

“Perfect, the Flower Shop Duo.” Kiara teased.

Both boys simultaneously frowned at her. Yoongi sighed, “You couldn’t come up with something more original than that?”

She just shrugged, a smile playing on her painted lip as she lowered her cheek to the camera once again. “Fine, then. Show me some of that Old Married Couple Magic? That’s what we really call it.”

“Hey!” Seokjin protested in a high-pitched cry, at the same moment Yoongi mumbled, “He’s the wife.”

Seokjin blinked, looking over at Yoongi before his forehead started to crinkle in half-playful indignation. “What, are you saying you make a better husband than me?”

“I’m saying, your head’s a little elevated, it’s making it swell.”

“Now, if you wanna talk about--”

“Boys, boys, boys,” Kiara laughed, snapping away at the camera just as Seokjin grabbed one of the roses off the prop side table and smacked Yoongi in the face with the half-opened bud, loose petals fluttering to the ground after the impact as Yoongi narrowed his eyes at his business partner. She was getting so many shots, grinning to herself as she saw the humor sparkling in their eyes even from the distance she was at.

“You’re an adult.” The statement was dropped like a pebble down a well, definitively, and more out of curiosity for a reaction. And what he got in return was Seokjin reaching down and scooping him up under his knees, knocking him back until he was being carried princess-style. His instant reaction was to stiffen up his body, looking less graceful and swept off his feet and more like stag beetle stuck on its back, legs flailing for purchase as his mouth gaped. Seokjin was laughing right into his face without restraint, his breath smelling faintly of rice and fish, and Yoongi found himself clinging to Seokjin’s sweater, half his fingers entangling into one of the drop-stitch holes.

“Ah, your hands are freezing!” Seokjin shuddered his bare chest away from Yoongi’s touch, almost dropping him and only making Yoongi cling to him further.

“Wow, looks like you’re acing this shoot,” came a voice, and Yoongi looked up to see Imani stepping up behind Kiara, looking appreciatively at the set. “Told you it was worth the nagging.”

“Ah, Imani!” Seokjin greeted, nodding in lieu of a wave since his arms were full of Yoongi. Yoongi frowned petulantly, unclenching his fists from Seokjin’s sweater so he could lightly beat at the broad chest there.

“Let me down!”

Seokjin complied, still smiling.

“I brought the rest of the crew, we got a little stuck in traffic due to that storm last night tearing up the roads.” She gestured over her shoulder, where first Taehyung, then Jimin, then Hoseok entered, followed by Namjoon, who had earbuds in and looked a little withdrawn into himself.

“Hoseokkie-hyung came!” Jimin crowed, a big fan of the one he called ‘a real human flower,’ showing his affection by clinging warmly to Hoseok’s side, who returned it in due kind. “I get dibs on a shoot with Hoseokkie-hyung first!”

“Okay, okay, just wait. I have to get the Kim brothers first,” Kiara shook her head, gesturing for the two remaining brothers to go to the corner with the makeup stand. “Imani, will you prep them up while I finish solo shots for these two? We have a lot to get through today.”

Imani nodded, smoothly sliding into her position as assistant as if the day’s challenges were no more than room-temperature butter. Within minutes she had set up a sort of assembly line with the boys, rushing through their makeup in record time while keeping the ones waiting their turn busy holding up reflectors and fetching props.

“Jimin, could you and Hoseok break up this bunch of roses down to their petals and spread them across this sofa for me?” Kiara barely even gestured in the direction of the roses that had arrived with Yoongi and his carload, focusing on shifting angles now that Yoongi’s solo shots were finished. “Seokjin,” she sighed, “You have to lower your arms, why do you keep standing like that?”

Seokjin visibly flushed, his ears going beet red as his eyes flickered away, his hands covered in the long sleeves of the sweater as he tried tilting and turning his body different ways. “No reason.”

“Then put your arms down!” Kiara sighed once again, sounded exasperated. “Try sitting down and sprawling across the sofa, we’ll have them drop the petals over you.”

“He’s self-conscious about showing his skin,” Yoongi stated candidly. “He thinks he looks fat.”

“Shut up!” Seokjin’s ears now looked like they were literally burning up, and so was his neck. He itched at his jawline with the sleeve of his sweater, the other hand tugging needlessly at the fabric around his stomach and attempting to bunch it up just-so.

Kiara straightened up, placing her hands on her hips. “Are you for real right now? Kim Seokjin?” 
 

“I’m sorry, okay! I got it . I got it .” Seokjin’s face was wrinkled in determination, a stubborn will to avoid causing any more commotion or delay or, even worse: draw more attention to himself. Everyone watched him take three deep breaths, then his demeanor and coloring changed. He sat down fluidly onto the couch, his expression bold and unconcerned all at once. Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, effectively messing up the styling done to it earlier but in favor of allowing him to not only display a noble questioning quirk of his brow but also display a bare shoulder peeking out from the wide collar of the sweater, angled for optimum effect.

“Wow, okay. I’m not questioning it,” Kiara laughed, the camera shutter whispering away at top speed. Taehyung and Jimin happily tossed the petals onto him, with Jimin trying his best to get them to stay on Seokjin’s head and Taehyung taking extra-care to make the petal spread as dramatic as possible, mumbling about aesthetics.

The red of the roses contrasted beautifully with Seokjin’s warm skin and dark red of the sweater as he draped professionally (that was the only word Yoongi could think of to describe it) across the couch. Yoongi shook his head and turned to go hunt down that aforementioned snack table, and nearly ran into Imani.

“Oh, sorry!” she piped, slipping past him with one of the bouquets they had brought - this one was a bunch of deep purple garden roses.

She was going to continue past him, but Yoongi suddenly found himself reaching out and taking gentle hold of her small shoulder, saying, “W-wait!”

When Imani stopped, looking up at him with her arms and chin buried deep within the purple flowers, Yoongi his lips, and determinedly squared his shoulders. In a really cheesy part of his mind that he would never bring to the light of day if he could help it, he stirred himself on with encouragements, thinking Seokjin is brave. Jimin and Hoseok were brave. Taehyung was brave. Jungkook was...well, sort of brave. So I can be, too.

“I was wondering… Later could we talk? Just the two of us?”

With the look Imani sent him, one might have thought he had just asked her to go kidnap the crown prince of England. “Um...suuuure?”

“It’s nothing bad. I mean, I don’t think?” Yoongi chuckled, and it sounded like he was forcing the sound out of him like a laugh track on a crappy variety show. “Don’t worry.”

It seemed too easy, bringing back her soft smile, and she tilted her head a little to the side in a way he remembered her doing all the time in middle school when he would say something that made her happy. “Okay, after the shoot, then? We can go to the restaurant together. “

“All right,” he smiled back, full-toothed and suddenly feeling the pressure in his chest turn into pleasant butterflies.

“Great job, now let’s pull the Kim brothers in!”

Kiara tended to run her studio like she ran her life - in a million directions at once. It wasn’t long before she was complaining that her music playlist had run out, so the now-free Yoongi went over to plug his phone in, heavy beats soon filling the studio with its resonance and energy. The three brothers were soon sitting in front of a series of mirrors, large beautiful arrangements of bouquets set just around them, brushing up against their hair and shoulders. Namjoon looked even more deeply contemplative today than usual, surrounded by stacks of old copies of classic novels. He wore a black V neck sweater with a thick white stripe for a collar on it, looking as if he had just stepped out of a literary magazine as some up-and-coming author, his hair styled up into a provocative swoop of his bangs. He clasped Jane Eyre between his fingers, his pursed lips brushing up against the top edge as if blessing it. At his side, Taehyung made it look like he was flipping through the pages of On The Origin Of Species by Charles Darwin , comfortable in front of the camera in a way his brothers were quietly trying to emulate. Taehyung and Seokjin sat back-to-back, Seokjin resting his head on Taehyung’s shoulder in a gesture of intimacy and trust.

“Namjoon, could you look this way, please?” Kiara said, half-into the camera. Yoongi leaned over her shoulder, trying to imitate the angle she was shooting from out of curiosity (and maybe his own passing interest in photography) and it was because of his closeness that he caught what she said next. Namjoon turned his eyes directly to the camera for the first time, his expression somehow dark without holding much difference from normal. It was a purposeful look, a deliberate one that remained unblinking and locked on the camera (and, Yoongi wondered, if it was meant for the person behind it). He was about to ask Kiara about what aperture she was using when he heard her breathe, “Oh my god… I just got chills.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi smirked, glancing up at Namjoon to see that the boy had glanced casually off to the side again. Namjoon hadn’t heard it, obviously, since it had been barely a breath on the girl’s tongue, but Yoongi had, and he let out a contemplative hum. Some people were harder to read than others, after all.

While individual shots were taken, with much hemming and hawing over placements and, at one point, a very hilarious debacle when Kiara took over 100 shots before realizing her reflection showed up in the mirrors.

Eventually, they were able to move on to the second to last set: Hoseok and Jimin were doing their photos on a bit of a different set than the rest: it was made up to look like a high scale bathroom, and Hoseok was leaning in toward the mirror as if contemplating his own image. His sweater was large and loose, a bit of his collarbone peeking through, and was colored in a series of broad, horizontal stripes of red, black and white respectively, but somehow he wore it as elegantly as if it were an expensive suit, black jeans rustling as he stretched out his long legs.

Jimin, for the moment, was trying to make himself comfortable.

“Why a bathtub?” he asked, trying to shift himself in a less painful position, his feet dangling over the side.

“Why not?” Kiara laughed.

“It’s because you’re secretly so dirty-minded, you need to be cleansed.” Hoseok teased. The two of them had quickly bonded over the last few weeks, realizing they had both been in the same dance club for the last year, and when Taehyung was thrown into the mix they became a teasing bundle of brightness and energy that was unsurpassable. Yoongi had started calling them the Sunshine Line, but never in front of the boys in question. Hoseok moved over and tickled at Jimin’s knees, making the boy yank his knees back and giggle.

“Ah, Hoseok, can you get in the tub with him, actually?” 

“What?! There’s no way we’ll both fit in there.” Hoseok whined, as Jimin laughed at him mockingly.

“Get in, nerd!” Jimin reached up and tugged at Hoseok’s arm, only releasing him once Hoseok started to acquiesce, carefully crawling in as Jimin wriggled aside to make room. The bathtub was filled a third of the way up with deep red rose petals, the occasional pink and white petal thrown in, and it piled up around them and cushioned the bottom, at least. Hoseok scooped up some of the petals and draped them over himself, then with a long finger tucked a petal inside the collar of Jimin’s tan turtleneck, reaching in to push it down to where his neck met his shoulder and making him giggle. “I guess Kiara knew I wasn’t the only dirty-minded one.”

“Who, me?!” Hoseok feigned surprise, one hand on his chest as though he’d been insulted.

“Okay, okay,” Kiara laughed, “Serious-face-time now, please.”

“Oh, Kiara?” Seokjin came up to her side, leaning in slightly, now more relaxed since he had slipped his bulky jacket over the gap-ridden sweater. “There’s still one more bouquet, the one you bought yesterday? It hasn’t been used yet…”

“What?” She lifted her head up as if to look but then instantly seemed to remember. “Ah, that one. No, it’s a special one, just set it on my desk over there.”

Yoongi, who was in the middle of selecting a new playlist to play over the speakers, looked up and thought the bouquet looked familiar. Then he realized it was the one Namjoon had been looking at the day before, when Kiara had bought it, seemingly right out from under him. He said nothing, but he glanced over at Namjoon, who was helping to move the books back out to the truck, since they were finishing up the shoot soon.

“Red roses,” he mumbled quietly to himself, like he was reciting a line of poetry, “meaning ‘a passionate love.’”

The last individual shots were taken, and finally all of them lined up together as a unit for the final shots. Yoongi stood off to the right side, holding his single rose awkwardly. He glanced at Seokjin and the others, finding them all in similar states of wondering what to do. They each had a single rose and were supposed to hold it up in what he supposed should be a seductive or appealing manner? It was kind of corny, but he figured he couldn’t complain, it was Kiara’s shoot after all.

“Okay, you guys got this, just a little longer!” Kiara called out, Imani at her side with her hands in her jeans pockets. She seemed to be looking at something in Yoongi’s direction, and therefore he wasn’t able to look directly into her face, focusing instead on somewhere over Kiara’s tiny shoulder. “Seokjin, how about against your lips? Yes, like that! Now Hoseok, I think you should tilt it a little more to the left…”

Imani continued moving closer, and Yoongi couldn’t help it - he looked her way. She was staring right at him with an unreadable expression; almost sad, he realized. But perhaps as confused as he felt in that moment, as well. His lips parted slightly, surprised by the way she continued locking her gaze with him, until finally she broke away, the smile returning to her lips as she shifted one of the lights per Kiara’s order. The last part of the shoot was pretty quiet, and Taehyung and Yoongi cheered once they were declared officially finished. Kiara stood up from her tripod, rubbing at her sore lower back, and smiled while a round of proud applause rose up. Laughter overwhelmed the tinny sound of the speakers as they packed up their things, and Jungkook and Seokjin leaned in together, pumping their fists and wriggling about as they cried, “Me-at! Me-at! Me-at!”

“Namjoon, could I talk to you for a minute?” Kiara suddenly asked, making the man stop following behind the others. He turned, arching an eyebrow before glancing over his shoulder. He met Yoongi’s eyes, and Yoongi just gave the slightest nod, calling out a fervent good luck! in his mind that he hoped Namjoon could hear the way Seokjin could hear into his head sometimes. Namjoon straightened his shoulders, sending Kiara a somewhat nervous smile as he nodded and followed her to her desk. She was already hunched over again, clicking through the photos. They were unedited of course, but Namjoon felt like he could already see sort of what the final product was going to be.

“Wow, it’s going to look so good…” he breathed, leaning in to see better. Kiara shot a look up towards him, as if he had shocked her by moving so close, and he self-consciously leaned back a bit, offering a smile. “I can’t believe that’s us, to be honest.”

“Well, just you wait until I adjust the exposure settings, fix up these angles and crop everything down properly. You’ll all look even more amazing. I’m glad we were finally able to do a shoot together.”

Namjoon gave a sound of agreement, and a moment passed between them, alone in the studio now, where Kiara clicked between the photos. They could see the other photos uploading, the thumbnails flashing past in the corner of the screen. Namjoon saw the ones of himself looking at the camera flicker past, and he could have sworn he heard Kiara give a sharp inhale.

“So..?” he said after a few seconds, “You wanted to talk to me about the photos, then?” He figured it made sense to ask for a fresh set of eyes to look at them, but it was weird to ask him, of all people. A part of his gut was dreading the next part, where he had a suspicion she was going to ask him about Seokjin with all the awkward pointedness that he had asked Yoongi about her just the day before.

“Um. No.” Kiara took a slow breath, finally pulling herself out of the photography zone and sitting back with an air of finality, turning halfway in her rolling chair to face him. “I have something for you.”

Namjoon arched an eyebrow, unsure how to react. Even more so when she stood up, took the bouquet of roses that had been sitting on her desk, and held them out to him. He stared at them dumbfounded for a moment before awkwardly reaching out for them. “Uhh...?”

“These are for you. I hope you like them.” Kiara said, her words bold but suddenly her voice sounded a little breathless, a little more rushed than she normally spoke. “To be honest, I bought them out of jealousy, but I’m giving them to you because I like you, and you like them, so I hope that makes up for it?”

He blinked. “W-what?”

“When you said you were buying flowers for a girl--”

“I... I didn’t say that.” Namjoon stuttered, feeling his face heat up.

“You said you were buying them for someone , and you didn’t correct me when I said ‘she.’”

“So? ‘She’ could be a whole plethora of different people. It could have been for my sister.”

“You don’t have a sister.” Kiara pouted. “But anyways, that’s not the point. When you said that, I got kind of angry.”

Namjoon let her words sink into the air around them for a moment, working his jaw back and forth slightly as he contemplated them. “So...you were jealous?”

“Yes. I was extremely jealous.” Kiara’s tone wasn’t matching her body language, like when puzzle pieces don’t match but the person doing the puzzle stubbornly tries to shove it into place anyways. Her tone was bold and matter-of-fact, like she was during shoots, out-going and fearless, but she bit at her lip and shifted her weight from foot to foot like she was on trial. “I know I don’t have any right to, but I felt petty and stressed out so I just bought it because I didn’t want you giving it to someone else. I’m sorry.”

“It’s-- ...does that--? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yes?”

“Not Seokjin?”

Kiara blinked at him, hard. “Why Seokjin?”

“I dunno,” Namjoon shrugged. “He’s handsome and good with people, he’s kind of stupid and whiny sometimes but he’s.charismatic.”

She smiled. “Well, that’s all well and good. But I’m not on the market for a charismatic but kind of stupid boyfriend. I want a warm, nerdy, deep-thought boyfriend. One that I can keep all for myself, since I’m kind of possessive and needy. One that reads books about feminism for his own benefit, not just for a class. One that is cute when he gets clumsy and has dimples.” Her words had come out in a rush, growing more breathy but also more easily with each passing word, as if they were coming from some deeper, more prepared place in her chest. Namjoon was already flushing but she just laughed, from embarrassment and giddiness, covering before jutting out her bottom lip and placing her hands on her hips, offering a coy tilt of her head. “Does Kim Seokjin have dimples?”

Namjoon flushed, looking down into the roses in his hands, his smile blossoming out to form the exact feature she had been referencing. Quietly, he traced his fingers along the tips of the petals and murmured, “...No.”

“Well?”

“Well,” Namjoon stepped closer, one hand lifting to tentatively cup her jaw in his palm. “I happen to be on the market for a girlfriend who’s a photographer, one that’s bold and sweet and makes me want to challenge her all the time. One that lives on too much coffee and is hard to read.”

She giggled, wrinkling her nose up at him. “You’re almost as cheesy as I am.”

“Almost?” Namjoon laughed, his eyes locking with hers. “I’m not even warmed up yet. I can be cheesier. The cheesiest.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m not lactose intolerant, or this would be hella awkward.”

There was a clattering, then, and Jungkook and Taehyung poked their heads back into the studio, the door banging up against the wall as they looked around. “Hey! Are you guys done yet ? We’re hungry!” Taehyung asked, finally spotting them and then pausing. “....Oh.”

Namjoon tilted his head towards his brother with a dead look on his face. “Could you give us five minutes, please?”

“Okay,” Taehyung held up both hands in surrender, grinning from ear to ear. “Normally, I’d say yes in a heartbeat, but right now we have three cars full of very hungry wanna-be-models, and you don’t want to leave them hanging.”

“There’ll be a mutiny soon,” Jungkook added.

”A mutiny? I was thinking a coup d'état, actually.”

“What’s the difference?” 

“Well, a mutiny suggests we’re the criminals here,” Taehyung explained breezily. “A coup d'état is more an exercise in politics.”
“Ah, nice!”

“Can you two leave ?” Namjoon snapped, and the boys scattered out the door to the sound of laughter. Kiara leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek, giggling as they slowly followed after them.