jeon wonwoo/kim jennie

(blue blood)

bespectacled lackadaisical eyes are staring at her lackadaisical ones. dark brown orbs are dipped in some kind of sunlit spell and blinking in the softest flutters she has ever encountered.

oddly familiar, jennie couldn’t keep the staring game on as she looks away – wandering far away from the said eyes that belong to a boy she has never met before. she is still getting used to seoul and its people but new zealand is still bare, beautiful and fresh in her mind wherever she goes. how it has made her think of something; about a comforting gaze from a complete stranger.

realizing where she is,—she might have trespassed into a garden filled with rare flowers just to get away from the headache-inducing involvement in the golden ballroom that is just right a few walks away from her—her presence here is simply there as an escape, perhaps have interrupted on whatever the man has been doing.

“i was about to leave,” she politely speaks up. opening in front of a stranger was a really hard thing to do. her small hands are almost clutching the side of her lovely victorian purple dress – out of anxiety, like a habit. made from the finest satin and a refined parisian brand of lanvin, embroidered with silver adorning, fit perfectly on her petite frame. apt for an aristocrat like her – a permanent name jennie has never been proud of. even when she was destined to born within the blue-blooded society. not cold-blooded.

her christian louboutin heels are about to turn around, probably going back to the obnoxious hi-tea party because she doesn’t want to look like she’s bringing trouble. she’s taught well to not bring any menace for the sake of her title or she’s always been that way: courteous and composed, or boring and prude. she pretty much prefers the second.

“no, you weren’t.”

his tone is apathetic, clear and blunt, adding with his raspy voice before surprising jennie on her place in the process as if he intended to do so. halting her from moving any further before peeking slightly toward his direction. still lackluster, she can’t not see herself in him. wondering if he has escaped from the whole rich grown-up talking about stocks in the after-party like her.

their faces are bathed with the longing shade of dusk. his dark hair sheens under the setting sun with the violet, gilt sky above is towering them with the sun is about to set.

the thick hardback in his hand attracts her attention – the royal horticultural society: encyclopedia of plants and flowers in blue, capital font written on the cover. what an uncommon pick for a book, she muses. she means for someone like him who never looks like the flowery type – not quite literally. a perfect new example of never judge a book by its cover.

his stoic look is above average, fairly good-looking: sharp nose, small eyes sparkled with looming curiosity, and those jawlines. he's exceptionally tall with his long limbs that are lanky in an appealing way, snug effortlessly in a tailored saint laurent suit from the latest spring 2017 menswear collection, for a son of a well-known senator whom she imagines her father would love to meet for a possible arrangement of a lifelong rendezvous between two noble families.

she shivers at the thought: arranged marriage is still relevant in the 21st century especially among the blue blood. she’s never prepared for that, even when she should have at least expected it to happen for her in the near time. conceivably the reason why her father had called her to start living with them in seoul.

“do you want to search for azalea with me?”

she raises her right eyebrow.

(maybe his eyes aren’t that lackadaisical when his almond-shaped eyes glimmer, reflected on his round glasses by the time she nods. except she couldn’t believe what in her right mind agrees to walk in a garden with some stranger for azalea. or maybe, she couldn't refuse such a harmless request.)

“wonwoo,” he says without looking and jennie once again glances at him questioningly before she realizes he just said his name.

they’re walking further into the garden, encountering with more and more kinds of flowers. some she recognizes and some she doesn't like magnolia, white roses (her mom's favorite), tulips. slowly, the blinding lights from the terrace of a ballroom have gone faded and dimmer from their sight, the chattering folks are no longer heard, and for now, she starts to feel calm. much better, she speaks.

her eyes follow his curious ones when they met red poppies before he turns to her, upon realizing she has been staring. looking at each other with an au fait sentiment this time, “jennie”.

“jennie? what a unique name. you’re not from somewhere here, i guess?

he talks a lot, unlikely to his disinterested look as if the whole world bores the hell out of him, which gives her a hard time adjusting with a stranger. in fact, she’s scared of new people, resulting into her constructing a façade upon her pretty face all along to mask her fear. the crowds have mistaken her to be one of the typically rude, spoilt princesses.

his eyes are still on her, somewhere undemanding and are wanting to know all at once, softening her nerve in immediate with the budding scent of flowers merging inside her like some kind of remedy.

“i just came back from new zealand. i’ve been living there my entire life.”

he makes another expression in the slightest but she can’t decipher what it means. she starts counting the petals of poppy by heart.

“which explains why i’ve never seen you before. how old are you?”

“22. you're good in observing.”

“what a coincidence. me too. of course, there might have been a vast chance that only the two of us are never interested in whatever our families are doing inside. that’s why you’re out here.”

she couldn't agree more at how true he is. there’s something about him that she seems like she understands, but couldn’t quite figure what. maybe because they’re not like any children of the golden spooned. seems like he doesn’t even care about being one, or maybe, because they just happen to share an amount likeness of fondness on flowers. neither or both.

wonwoo knows more about flowers—from the kinds, origin to the scientific names.

"this one is dendrobium. that one is cymbidium," while delightedly pointing at the orchids. they all look the same to her—still orchids—but it doesn't fail to amaze her utterly on how dear of him toward flowers. she wonders if flowers and books are the only things that matter to him, instead of his family’s fortune that can give him everything he wants, but he has already looked powerful enough to her; wealthy with virtue, unlike any sons of the elite who possesses greediness on being influential. this world needs a lot more of people like him.

his favorite isn't exactly azalea. it's hyacinth but he thinks he likes dandelion more.

"i like hydrangea," jennie shares and wonwoo looks at her with wide, starry eyes as if he doesn't expect that.

"it looks like you really miss new zealand," he says after hearing how jennie described the place. wonwoo is a curious boy, asking anything he wants to know from her and she answers without hesitation as if she's comfortable with him, which surprisingly, she already is.

"of course, it's my home," she smoothly averts her eyes from his. he's been staring at her with that look when she's talking. something dreamy, gentle which is unfathomable to her understanding. he picks a piece of primrose, twirling with his long, dainty fingers. so tiny in his hand like how they are in this world, surrounded by high expectations, endless fortunes, and boundless future. it makes her think a lot.

"sometimes, i just think it's unfair for the others. i'm living too lavishly. i don't deserve this."

he doesn't answer her sudden remarks, instead he tucks the queen anne's lace he has picked somewhere earlier on her left ear. confusion is drawn all over her face but she stays still as he fixes the flower. silence fills in, and warmth starts to build a home in her. a new home with a garden of solidaster he would love to see them grow.

"beautiful," he mutters under his smile. jennie's ears couldn't catch when she's too busy admiring white monte casino aster in her hands.

(they found no azalea in the garden, unfortunately.

"it's getting late," they didn't realize the evening is turning almost dark with no sign of sun and the moon is taking its shift.

wonwoo slips off his coat before carefully wraps it around her small frame before earning jennie's surprised look. he smiles softly and quietly, reminding her of the white stephanotis they just stumbled across. she tries to not blush but fails as her cheeks almost resemble the shade of peony. wonwoo perhaps doesn't get to see when the flowers are too beautiful in the dark or he's just simply outshined the sparkly diamonds of jennie's cartier earrings.

the coat is too wide for her, draping against her small shoulders, but enough to shield her from the crisp spring eventide. somehow, she could feel her heart blossoming its petal out while breathing in the strong mixed scent of wonwoo's dior homme cologne and a sweet-smelling hedgerow of gardenia on the path their way back.)

they reach the arbor, being faintly illuminated by the light from the golden ballroom. curly willow branching the arbor with pear blossom trees blooming as the two adolescents stand under it. jennie could sense a farewell. everything is back to normal, she thinks sadly.

"why do you ask me to search for azalea with you?"

she has been wanting to ask him this question. it could give her trouble sleeping if she left it questioning in her head. wonwoo pauses a while, his eyes blinking and she's eager to know. staring her deeply in the eyes with the help of the lantern hanging on the arbor. she couldn't help but feel defenseless, melted with the thoughts of flowers and wonwoo altogether. what a wonderful combination.

"when i look at you for the first time and even now, you remind me of azalea."