Yoongi loosened the scarf around his neck, feeling warm as he dragged the heel of one shoe against the wet pavement of the parking lot. They had all wordlessly decided to wait for Namjoon and Kiara before heading out to the restaurant, deciding to just follow each other to get there.

Something about finishing the shoot created an easier atmosphere for Yoongi and Imani. Despite the awkward tension that shot between their glances, for the most part they had started warming back up into their old easy-going friendliness: a task that wasn’t hard to do, with Imani’s warm personality.

She was chatting with Hoseok about how the rain seemed to have brought in warmer weather, and how it was almost really spring-like. Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung were looking up photos of the restaurant they were going to, and drooling over Jimin’s phone while looking at the images of the food. Yoongi’s eyes at first wandered to his own phone, an easy go-to in awkward in-between moments, but then Imani’s backpack caught his attention again in the corner of his vision as she bounced back and forth. The Kumamon backpack’s long paws swung with each movement, looking like a lazy sort of dance and brushing up against the backs of her elbows. Without stopping to think too much of it, he found himself reaching out and taking hold of each of the paws between his fingers, giving them both a hearty squeeze and smiling appreciatively. Hoseok looked over at him and arched an eyebrow, making Imani turn around to see what he was looking at.

When she saw it was Yoongi, she laughed, “He’s super cute, right?” 

“I like his stupid expression,” Yoongi agreed.

Imani bent over a little with another round of laughter. “I thought so, too! He looks so stupid, that’s why I like him.” She attempted to twist around and look over her shoulder at the backpack, but it was too far out of her reach and so she didn’t really see much. “My train card is a picture of him, too. It was kind of hard to find in the city where I live.”

“Cute…” Yoongi breathed, still giving the paws short little squeezes and loving the feel of the soft black material. The bear’s red blush marks and wide, dopey eyes were somehow comforting to him. Hoseok leaned in, his toothy smile broadening as he watched Yoongi’s expression.

“Wow, I didn’t expect Yoongi likes cute things.”

“Oh, he’s a total er for them,” Imani said with confidence, as if this information was obvious. “He also really liked flowers even in middle school. He used to bring this scrapbook to the park near our school and it was just filled with pressed flowers.”

Yoongi felt his chest constrict at Imani’s flippant words. She remembers .

“He still has it, actually,” Seokjin added, and before he had pronounced the last syllable Yoongi was already hitting him on the arm to try and shut him up, to no avail. “It’s on one of the shelves in the office at the shop.”

“Aww!” Imani breathed, crinkling in her tiny, upturned nose in amusement. “Yoongi, you really don’t change much, do you? Just look at him,” she teased, poking him in the shoulder. “It’s been over a decade and he looks the exact same. Like a baby.”

“I do not,” Yoongi said back, a broad smile on his face that he himself didn’t notice, but that everyone around him was snickering about. “Just because you were born looking like a twenty year old...”

“I’m a mature woman, thank you very much.” Imani pretended to flip her hair over her shoulder, lifting one shoulder and coyly posing for him.

“Mm,” Yoongi nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “If only you weren’t small enough to be tripped over by accident.”

“Hey!” Imani pouted, her bottom lip jutting out. Her cheeks looked flushed.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Seokjin hiccuped with laughter.

Yoongi reached over and punched Seokjin in the arm, who kept giggling like his point had just been proven. “I’m not that short, I’m average-sized! I’m 176 centimeters!”

The younger ones looked between each other for a moment, uncertain whether or not they were also allowed to laugh at Yoongi’s statement and not wanting to awaken a beast, but then Taehyung snorted and the rest of them soon followed. Taehyung wiped at his mouth with his sleeve and said, “You’re shorter than Jimin.”

“I am not!” Yoongi was affronted, frowning as he gave Jimin a cursory glance. Jimin shifted his weight from foot to foot, biting his lip as if to hold back a comment. “Come on, measure us!” He took hold of Jimin’s shoulders and turned him around, pushing his back up against the boy’s and trying to stretch out his usually hunched posture to its full height without seeming to be trying too hard.

“Oh my god, Yoongi, just calm down,” Imani was laughing. But Taehyung came over and placed his broad, tanned hand against the top of their heads. There was a moment of silence, and Taehyung looked over his shoulder and smirked at Seokjin, who was laughing behind his fist.

“Well?!” Yoongi snapped.

“Jimin is definitely taller.”

“Yeah, like easily.”

“ What ?!” Yoongi’s face flushed crimson and suddenly his back felt super hot, and he struggled to stretch his back a little more. “No way. He looks like a child!”

In response, Jimin laughed and elbowed Yoongi, a little high off the knowledge that he wasn’t the shortest. Namjoon came out of the studio, his hair looking a little mussed as he held Kiara’s hand. The latter was smirking as if she was withholding a lovely secret, and Namjoon was hugging a bouquet of roses to his chest.

“Are you ready to go?” he queried.

Seokjin lifted his eyebrows at the two of them, jingling the keys around his fingertips. “We’ve been ready, we were just waiting for you two to finish making out.”

“You’re awfully bold for someone who got fidgety over sweater-holes,” Namjoon shot back, “And I’ll remember it if you ever get a girlfriend.”

“If? If?! ” Seokjin gasped. “Just for that I’m sending the younger kids with you.” He gestured for Taehyung to step forward, followed closely by Jimin and Jungkook. The narrow space for standing allowed in front of the shop meant they had to shuffle in a close-knit line, and to Yoongi they vaguely resembled penguins as they wriggled their way in small steps to Kiara’s van, shuffling bags of clothing and boxes of props to squish in. They barely fit, there were several bouts of complaining and they had to do rock-paper-scissors a total of three times since Taehyung kept cheating, but eventually they were loaded up. After crawling into the front, Namjoon leaned over the headrest to berate Taehyung about who had dibs on the AUX cord. Yoongi mouthed a ‘Good luck,’ to Kiara, who shook her head in disbelief as she slid into the driver’s seat.

Hoseok wasn’t able to fit in the car with the others, so he went with Seokjin in the Spring Day Bouquet truck, which really could only fit two people comfortably anyway (Jungkook had had to sit in the back with the flowers on the way there). The two of them were already chatting easily, Hoseok pinching at Seokjin’s waist and making him groan loudly in protest. As Seokjin started up the truck, Yoongi realized that he was finally alone with Imani for the first time since she had reappeared in the shop. He swallowed heavily, his throat starting to constrict painfully, but he followed close behind her as she unlocked her car, slipping her Kumamon backpack into the backseat before getting in. He sat down opposite her, awkwardly clutching his jacket to his chest. Several minutes passed before the silence was broken, as Imani pulled into the main traffic.

“Looks like Jungkook fits in well with the other boys,” Imani commented, looking at the van ahead of them and seeing the dim silhouettes of the three in the backseat half-wrestling each other, arms flailing back and forth.

“Yeah, they’d be worse if Seokjin was with them, to be honest,” came Yoongi’s chuckle. “And Jungkook’s a good kid. I think I’m going to have him help part-time in the shop until his situation gets better. He has dorms paid for and he’s already got the textbooks he needs, so…”

Imani didn’t say anything, and when he glanced over she was sending him a soft smile, her head tilted to the side.

“What?”

“I dunno, that just seems really interesting, coming from you.”

“How so? It’s not like I’m gonna let him freeload or anything,” Yoongi shuffled in his seat, frowning out the window because looking at Imani made too many memories come back up and get caught in his throat.

“That’s not what I meant,” Imani laughed. “Although I’ll bet you don’t really have the budget for a part-timer at your little flower shop, no offense.”

“None taken,” he said automatically, resting his elbow against the windowsill and resting his chin in his palm as he watched the rain start up again. “I just know he probably would feel better if he was earning it, and it’s only for the month. We could use some help with the deliveries, too, and we have this old bike in the back that hasn’t been used in forever.”

“That would work. Plus he looks energetic, he could probably cover quite a lot of them. Why don’t you also have him use the bike for some advertising? Like a little poster board on the cart or have him hand out your business card as he goes.”

Yoongi hummed in agreement, imagining just how big the poster board should be in comparison with the cart. “A lot of our customers are based on regulars or word of mouth, so it may not have a lot of response, but it can’t hurt, especially with the upcoming season.”

Imani gave her own agreeing hum, and then the sound of rain filtered into the conversation, letting them sit quietly for a few minutes while they flew down the freeway. Yoongi worked his lip for a minute, wondering how much further they had until the restaurant, wondering if he had enough time or if it was too early to bring it up, or...

“So…?” Imani began, nearly making him jump. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah…” Yoongi took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. It quivered, and he realized just how nervous he was. He sat up straighter in the passenger seat, wriggling his feet back and forth to find a better position for his legs. The others for being the shortest, but he really wasn’t short - he thought distractedly that he was still at least a full head and a half taller than Imani, so that her head would normally rest against his chest. Not that she had done that more than once, therefore not making it something he could classify as normal , but still, the ghost of a memory of her forehead pressed against him still lingered, like a phantom limb. His voice came out a little rushed and a little quiet. But nonetheless it still sounded loud and harsh in the quiet of the car.  “I just.. I’m sorry for bringing it up, you probably don’t even want to think about it ever again, but I wanted to apologize again, for before.”

Imani stared ahead, unblinking, her expression unreadable. “You don’t have to apologize, Yoongi. I already said that.” Her voice was void of any extra emotion, just cautious.

“I know.” Yoongi sighed, wondering if he was already losing. “I know. I just, that’s not all there is to it.”

“Mm?”

“It really was all my fault. I was the one who asked you if we could be more than friends, and then I let things get so awkward and weird.”

“Well, it was just that it was like we were the same as before,” Imani said quietly, her eyes on the road. “Just friends.”

Just friends.

Because he hadn’t been looking where was going with his emotions, Yoongi had now tripped into a very deep, very familiar well and he wasn’t sure if he could clamber his way back up out of it.
 

“I was being selfish and stupid,” Yoongi said, his fingers picking at a hole in the upholstery. “I should have just been more honest with you. I never wanted to just be friends.” He swallowed. “I think it’s the same now, too.”

Imani didn’t respond, but he saw her click her turn signal on. He was sure she heard him clearly, at least this time.

“I’m pretty greedy when it comes to you,” he continued hesitantly, “And I expected you to understand my feelings and reciprocate them. But I can’t expect you to just know what I’m feeling all the time. I should have been braver, but I was young and dumb then. So.”

They turned into a side street, and Imani’s forehead was crinkling the way it did when she was thinking hard on something, and he could have sworn she was nibbling nervously at the inside of her cheek. The rain pelted down, and he realized that at some point she had pulled into a side street and they had stopped moving, the car parked up against the curb. “It’s the same now? Honestly?”

He wasn’t expecting that to be her first question, so he looked at her for a moment, a little stunned. “Um, yeah. At least, I honestly think so.”

“Yoongi, I… I mean, I knew you were acting weird around me, of course. You aren’t exactly subtle. But I already convinced myself once that that meant you felt something… more? For me? And it turned out I was wrong - or at least, that’s the message I got. I just don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“No, no, I understand…” He sat back, leaning his head against the cushion for support. The seat was broad, and slightly stiff, and reminded him of Seokjin’s back, so he tried to sap strength from it the same way. He had to say the words directly. And he had to treat her right from now on, like she deserved. “I like you.”

A beat of silence, with just the rain singing down lightly.

Yoongi added, “I love you. I always have. It’s embarrassing to say, but you were my first love.”

She still didn’t answer. He supposed he should have expected that. Even as warm and open as Imani could be, there were still some things she would never share with him. Awash with the revelation that even he, Min Yoongi, had harbored hopes that this intensely awkward confession 12 years too late was going to amount to anything, he started to babble.

“I mean, I know that everyone says that young love is fickle and that it doesn’t mean much when you’re that young, but it meant a lot to me, and I really don’t think that what I feel now as an adult, even after getting experience and all that, is any different than--”

“Yoongi,” she started, looking over at him with her cheek resting against the steering wheel.

“Seriously, I have--” he said, his words overlapping hers before he heard her, then paused and looked her way. Her eyes locked on his for a long moment, her bangs falling into her eyes as she watched him. The falling rain cast a gray cloud of ambiguity around them, and the sheets of sound and water surrounding the car made it feel small and intimate, like they were temporarily suspended in their own little realm. Imani gave a little smile, her cheeks looking pinker than before, and she pointed to the glove compartment in front of Yoongi.

“Take out the cassette in there. The one with the date taped on it.”

Confused, Yoongi complied, the litter of half-rumpled napkins and heavy metallic car instruments tumbling out as he dug until his hands found an old gray cassette tape with 2008 OCT written on it.

“I haven’t seen one of these in years ,” Yoongi breathed. Luckily, Imani’s car was old enough to still have a cassette slot, and he pressed it in after a gesture from her. A crackling noise resounded, following by the subtle sound of the tiny ribbon being tugged through, a nostalgic sensation for Yoongi. He sat back, curious as to what Imani thought was so relevant from so long ago.

He was surprised to hear some very familiar words read back to him.

“This letter is from Year 3 Class 3 No. 13 Min Yoongi... “ the deep voice on the recording said. Yoongi’s heart stopped. “ Hello, I’m Min Yoongi from Daegu. I’m embarrassed to write a letter to a radio show which I’ve always been listening to. Today, we were told to write a letter to a radio show by our Korean Language teacher. I was thinking about what I should write about but while reading “A Letter Of Delight” by author Hwang Dong-Gyu I remembered my past love and here I am putting down a few words about it.”

Yoongi instinctively leapt forward to shut off the recording, but Imani’s hand was faster and held him back, clasping his fingers tightly. A wave of heat shot up the back of his neck and flushed his face within moments, and the car suddenly felt much more exposed, less safe and secure. He remembered reading “A Letter Of Delight,” and he remembered the feeling of sitting at his desk, consumed by memories and regret. He remembered having to write a report reflecting on the poems. He remembered getting marks off because his thoughts had been too messy and unfocused, unable to express in his middle-school-mind how impactful the poem had been to him. Over the next few years, young Yoongi had become obsessed with finding words that worked better.

“Grade 9, it might be a tender age to say the word “love” without feeling embarrassed. However, those heart aching memories were my true feelings. Last year, I was in Grade 8 and I’m embarrassed to say this but I had a girl I liked. But I was a complete fool so I couldn’t talk to her and we just remained as friends. The closer I got with her, the greedier I became. I didn’t want to be friends with her anymore so I confessed to her.”

He remembered the awkward lunch, when his overly romantic mind had wished it could have been a more dramatic happening, but it had just been a squeaked out suggestion before she could escape with her tray. Even now, he didn’t know if he had expected her to accept or reject him.

“But she accepted my confession so we started going out. However this is when the problem started. I got to go out with her but I couldn’t approach her easily and because I was shy I couldn’t treat her better compared to the time we used to be friends so our relation turned awkward. It was driving me crazy. After few days of our relationship, she told me we should just be friends and her words felt like they created a hole on one side of my heart. Of course, I understood her and I blamed my stupid self. Adults would say I shouldn’t be dating at my age and love isn’t for my age, but there was nothing different compared to adults although I was young. I kept thinking about her even after we decided to be friends again and regretted “Why didn’t I treat her better back then?” If anyone asked me to go back to that moment, I would go back to treat her better and confidently tell her that I like her and that I love her.”

He wanted to laugh at his 9th grade self talking about his 8th grade self as if there had been decades in between. But really, at that age, wasn’t there decades in between? It was in the slits and cracks between days that a child grew into an adult, little pieces and gradual moments that made the biggest changes. He remembered the day after school that Imani had suggested they go back to being friends. He remembered the sweatiness of his palms and how he’d felt like his whole world had crashed apart. Things were different now - he knew that nothing was the whole world, that it would continue moving on and revolving, whether or not a man from Daegu was successful or happy and whether or not a little boy had his heart crushed like a petal underfoot, bruised and torn but still carrying on. He had brought her a bouquet, to tell her how he’d studied the language of the flowers, a romanticized passing interest that had been quietly nurtured. A tiny, slightly wilted sales bouquet of pink camellias and baby’s breath. He had been planning to tell her that afternoon that they stood for longing and an everlasting love . It turned out that the message behind them didn’t matter.

“My heart hurts when I think about that time. Will she listen to this letter? If she does, I would like to tell her  this. I’m very sorry for what I did to you and my heart hurt because I hated my foolish self but now the past memory has settled beautifully. I would like to thank her for creating this memory. I decided to write this letter because I remembered it all of a sudden during class. I’d be grateful if my letter gets selected.” The recording scratched painfully, signaling its end.

He heard Imani sigh. She had been looking off into the distance with a little smile on her face the whole time, not offering commentary or even meeting his eyes.

“I was so glad I managed to record it. I had no way to be absolutely sure it was me you were talking about, but--”

“But you knew it was you,” Yoongi finished.

“It made me happy and a little depressed, in all honesty. But I liked listening to it.” She rubbed her palms up and down her thighs, smoothing out the material of her skirt there. “Well, I mean I like listening to it. It still cheers me up. But I realized then that you really did feel a lot more for me than I did for you. I had a suspicion, back in 8th grade, but I didn’t know for sure.” She bit her lip for a moment. “ I felt bad because I didn’t feel as strongly about you as you did for me . But I was so glad to hear that you were going to turn it into a beautiful memory, at least.”

Yoongi nodded. “I did. It was a beautiful memory. Corny and quite dramatic, but that’s to be expected.”

She laughed a bit at that, and he realized that little tears had started to trickle down her cheeks, which she wiped away. “Which is cornier, that you wrote the letter or that I kind of fell in love with you from it?”

It wasn’t the comment he was expecting, and that’s why he took a long moment to let her words sink in. “Imani…?”

“I don’t have the self-confidence you do, to know for sure, of course. I mean, it has been a long time…” she said carefully, as though taste-testing each word before it slipped past her lips. “But I guess what I’m asking is, would you like to go out with me sometime? And see where it goes?” She paused, and they stared at each other. Imani seemed to realize her own words and suddenly let out a groan, throwing her head back. “Ugh! If that wasn’t what you were shooting at, then I’m sorry, please forget I asked! I mean, it just seemed like you were hinting at wanting to give us another shot, but if you were just trying to find, I dunno, closure or whatever and that was the last--”

“Imani,” he said gently, smiling. “Shut up.”

That made her halt, and she pouted at him. “How rude.”

He reached out to touch his palm to her cheek. A flashback to the awkward middle school years when they had painfully crashed their teeth against each other and tried too hard to make pleasured moans (because they thought that’s what was supposed to happen) from what was then a very disgusting attempt at making out made Yoongi smile, glad that Neverland didn’t actually exist, because it would have been torture to remain too young forever. He tilted his head and leaned in, taking his time and trying to convey to her that each touch, each moment, was precious to him. Then, once she was responding, he pressed in suddenly, making her lean back until her shoulders were up against the driver side door, and her hands were in his hair and the soft, slightly wet sound of their lips mingled with the thrum of the rain on the car. She smiled into the kiss, and Yoongi felt something in his chest decompress like a bellows, a pleasant squeeze that was also an exhalation of everything he’d been holding in so far.

~~~~~

“What took you so long?” Seokjin whined the instant he saw Yoongi coming through the door, sitting cross-legged at the end of the table they’d reserved. Meat was already sizzling away on the grill, and Jungkook was practically leaning into the heated surface, held back by Seokjin, who was holding a pair of metal tongs as he frowned up at the couple. The restaurant was old but known for quality, a wide stone-tiled area in a faded gray in the entrance that was littered with shoes and a slightly acrid smell that wafted up to Imani and him as they discarded their shoes. The main part of the restaurant was raised up about six inches above the entrance on a polished wood floor, a pleasant warmth coming up from the ondol. Yoongi nudged Seokjin’s shoulder, and the elder shuffled over to give enough room for Yoongi to set down two more mats, one for himself and one for Imani. Yoongi flushed as he felt Seokjin’s amused question, even though Seokjin hadn’t said anything about the fact that he and Imani were holding hands between their laps.

“I ordered you a beer to start off with,” Seokjin stated matter of factly, setting meat onto Jungkook’s plate, then Taehyung’s.

“Namjoon almost killed us,” Jimin said gleefully from the other side of the table, like a child who had just learned a dirty secret about one of his siblings.

“What?” Yoongi looked over at Namjoon, who was sitting a noticeable distance from the grill, his arms folded up into his lap as he demurely sipped at his water.

“Tell dad what happened,” Taehyung giggled, a ed chuckle. Seokjin took a long drink from his own cup, eyes focused on the grill.

“I didn’t know fire could be that hot,” Seokjin said, a sage sort of seriousness to his tone as he dramatically flipped over the pork strips.

“I only turned it on!” Namjoon complained.

“Rebuke him, mom,” Jimin teased, “He deserves it.”

Fighting a smile, Seokjin lifted his gaze to his younger brother, waving the tongs a little at him for emphasis. “Namjoon, you’re not allowed to touch the grill anymore, for the safety of the other kids, so sit back and just enjoy the meal.”

Namjoon frowned at his brother but said nothing in response, turning to pout into his plate, consisting mostly of kimchi at this point.

“Hyung, can I have that piece?” Jungkook asked, pointing to the largest piece on the grill. Seokjin glanced over to see that Jungkook had already inhaled everything he’d just given him, pushing his plate a little forward with a soft coyness.

“You’re not burning your tongue, are you?” Seokjin arched a curious eyebrow.

In response, Jungkook smirked and said, “I’m not sensitive to hot and cold foods.” To emphasize his point, he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out a little, showing that he’d eaten everything.

“Ugh, gross. Close your mouth, your breath smells like the anchovies.”

Jungkook exhaled heavily into Seokjin’s face, causing the elder to gag and cough, waving at the air to dispel the smell while Taehyung laughed. Yoongi leaned forward, seeing that Hoseok was manning the other grill, and he was quietly and gently passing out equal portions to Namjoon, Kiara, and Taehyung, and he supposed at some point Taehyung had invited Jieun, since she was sitting curled into his side, garnering all his attention and talking quietly into his ear.

It was a weird sort of community they had built, he had to admit. But something about the people seated at the table seemed warm and familiar - even the ones he didn’t know very well yet. It felt like all that the word ‘family’ should have meant, and he felt pretty proud of himself for getting here. They were all going through their own problems, and many of them would never be resolved. Hoseok still had a long way to go to make his mother proud, Taehyung and Namjoon were still in the rose-colored glasses aspects of their budding romances, Jungkook still had (according to him) 17 days left to the month to figure out how to feed himself, and Jimin was still unsure if he wanted to get a new pet. But the point wasn’t for everything to be perfect. The point was to try.

To the middle school me... it’s gonna be okay, he thought in his head like a prayer. It gets better .

“Hyung,” Yoongi said quietly, his hand squeezing onto Imani’s under the table as Jimin handed the two of them chopsticks and Seokjin started to pile food onto their plates, “I have something to tell you.”

Seokjin gave a fond little smile, his eyes flickering up to meet Yoongi’s. “I already know, stupid,” he chuckled. “Here, Imani, this one’s a better piece.”

There was a reason they were partners, after all.

~~~~~

Seokjin sighed, shrugging off his dark gray trenchcoat as he crossed the street. He didn’t even hear the annoying beeping noises of the crosswalk, focused instead on the blinding heat of the spring day sun. It was warm for February, too warm for his trench coat, so he folded it up over one arm. With a sigh, he dug his copy of the keys to the store out of his pocket, unlocking the front door and slipping inside, his hand mechanically turning the CLOSED sign around to OPEN. The slightly faded green and pink words that read Spring Day Bouquet caught his attention, and he figured he should talk to Yoongi soon about repainting it before summer.

It was the day after Valentine’s Day, and like any good flower shop keeper, Yoongi had postponed his Valentine’s Day plans with his girlfriend for today, knowing it was going to be dead in the shop. So Seokjin was on solo duty for the afternoon.

The bouquet from yesterday was still laying on the counter where he’d left it. Yoongi had tossed it to him over his shoulder, the date-less man catching it without a second thought, a gesture reminiscent to the throwing of a bouquet at a wedding. ”Don’t worry, you’re next,” Yoongi had said with a smirk.

After Seokjin had properly thunked Yoongi in the head with the bouquet for saying something so corny on premises of ‘a place of professionalism,’ he had tried to bury his own feelings of longing and loneliness. This was just the way things had worked out, he figured. And it wasn’t like he was un happy, he just wasn’t quite happy with it as it was.

He spent the first half of the day playing on his 3DS, until it started to strain his eyes so much that when he looked up at a straggling customer, the whole room looked black and he saw spots. So he opted instead to work on some more flower arrangements in the meantime. Seokjin waited until the lone customer left, then turned up the radio and switched it from jazz to a station of current love songs, most of which he recognized. Seokjin sang along without restraint, crooning along with the radio as he arranged. At his elbow was a container of gloxinias, their buds starting to open in a beautiful burst of deep purple which curled into itself into a beautiful black, the thick green leaves looking strong and healthy. This particular batch he had been growing himself from buds, more of a personal pet project since they weren’t popular until closer to their regular blooming season in April. He brushed his fingers against the soft petals, dramatically pretending to sing his love song to the blossom, the music so loud he actually didn’t hear the doorbell. This time it was a recording of Taehyung again, making an exaggerated, “mwah!” kissing sound that had been against Jieun’s cheek.

The customer stood behind him for several long moments, watching him sing to his gloxinias about the love of a boy from last summer, before Seokjin turned around and saw her standing there. Seokjin practically screamed in surprise, nearly dropping the t scissors in his hands.

“Sorry, I surprised you,” she giggled. “Your singing voice is cute. But I came here looking for a special bouquet...?”

Seokjin smiled, his eyes curling up into soft crescents. “You came to the right place! I’m sure we have exactly what you’re looking for here.”