It all started with the tiny, ivy covered flower shop called “Midnight Daisies” settled on the corner of Crown St. and Main. It caught Jimin’s eye quickly, as did the lopsided "Help Wanted" sign taped on the window facing the road. Glancing both ways, he quickly made his way across the bustling street, enticed and intrigued by the strange little building.

The tinkling of the small bell placed at the top of the door was the only sound Jimin could hear as he stepped into what looked like more of a controlled jungle than a shop. Brushing various flower petals and miscellaneous leaves off of his clothes, he struggled through the crowded yet pleasantly green smelling room, finally emerging, slightly out of breath, at the deserted front desk. The back wall of the slightly cramped shop was covered in posters of bands and orders for bouquets scribbled unintelligibly on sticky notes. The ancient, scratched desk itself looked as if it was about to collapse, practically groaning under the weight of about a billion papers, a cash register, and a prehistoric computer that looked like it still ran Windows 95.

Jimin gingerly tapped the bell that was balanced on the corner of the desk nearest to him, its sharp ding fading into silence. After a few moments, he tentatively called out a small “Hello..?” into the dimly lit shop. He cringed at how empty the shop made his voice sound, and he was certain the begonias were mocking him for this from their perch by a window. He rang the bell once more, and contemplated coming back another day when a door to the left of the desk creaked open, and a mop of silver hair poked out.

“I heard you.. the first time..” a man’s gruff voice sounded. “You woke me up with all that noise. Whatever. Uh, what can I help you with?” Hair still obscuring his face, the man stumbled to a chair behind the desk, sticky note and pen in hand.

“Actually, Ahjussi, I came here looking for a job-”

“Ahjussi? How old do you think I am?” The man’s head snapped up, fatigue apparently vanishing, and his features were finally revealed, albeit twisted in a slightly annoyed expression. Jimin had probably never been more embarrassed in his entire life. The owner of the gruff voice and grey hair was not a grandpa, as he had first thought, but a man who looked not that much older than he. His skin was not wrinkled, but smooth and unblemished, his eyes sparkled with youth, and his lips were an irresistible shade of pink and…. Jimin suddenly realized he was staring rudely at the man behind the counter, who just happened to be the most beautiful person Jimin had ever laid his eyes on.

Shaking his head, Jimin bowed deeply and squeaked out an apology.

“Ah- I’m sorry Sir! I just saw your hair, and it’s kind of dark in here, and I’m just trying to get a job - my name is Park Jimin, by the way, what’s yours? Is this your shop? It’s beautiful!”

Jimin managed to stop babbling, looking expectantly to the now slightly scared looking silver-haired man. Blinking his eyes, the still nameless man-who-was-most-definitely-not-80 cleared his throat.

“Min Yoongi. Yes, this is my store. And sorry, I can’t hire you if you aren’t 18 or older.”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. He had been mistaken as younger than he was before, but under 18?!

“I-I’m 21!” Jimin practically shouted his shock, causing the man - Min Yoongi? - to wince. “My ID is right here, see for yourself!”

Sighing, Min Yoongi accepted the offered slip of plastic, glanced at it, and slowly started shuffling through one of the many teetering piles of paper near him. He picked out 2 crumpled sheets, and shoved them towards a still aghast Jimin along with his ID.

“Fill these out.” The man muttered over his shoulder as he began walking back towards the door he emerged from. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll look them over.”

The door closed with Jimin still gaping after that strange “Min Yoongi” guy. Shaking his head, he carefully maneuvered through the dense growth in the room and began the trek back to his apartment. Once or twice, he was tempted to chuck the papers into one of the many recycling bins he passed, yet something stopped him. Jimin wondered to himself, ‘Could this really work out?’