Just another day in the dull gray city. Unless, of course, you visit the small flower shop in the middle of town. Sunggyu lets out an irritated huff as he unlocks the front door, flipping the sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open’.

Yes, Sunggyu is a florist. Kim Sunggyu, who doesn’t believe in either beauty or love, who’s always in a bad mood, who hates social dealings, the owner of a flower shop.

Surprisingly enough, though, he enjoys it. Sunggyu basks in the simplicity of the blossoms, the sweetness of the shy couples, and the warmth of the late sun shining through the large glass windows. It doesn’t matter if no one ever comes; just being alone in the peaceful silence is enough. After all, the flowers always keep him company.

“Excuse me?” a young, nervous voice calls out. Sunggyu lifts his head; he had been sprawled across a catalogue, pondering which flowers to order next.

“Yes?” he answers, shoving the magazine to the side. “Welcome to illa illa. How may I help you?”

The small customer, who looks like he’s barely out of middle school, refuses to meet Sunggyu’s eyes, looking everywhere else. Sunggyu feels a tick of irritation, but considering the kid’s age, he decides to hold his patience.

“Do you need a flower?” he asks gently, leaning his elbows on the counter. The kid nods quickly, a red flush creeping up his neck.

“Um, I…” He hesitates, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Sunggyu stands up, moving out from behind the counter. “I’m going on a date, and I thought…”

“First date?” Sunggyu takes down a pink rose, the flower still yet unbloomed. “New love,” he explains, handing it to the boy with a smile.

“Wow!” The boy’s eyes light up in wonder and awe. He looks up at Sunggyu with newfound respect, and Sunggyu pats his shoulder.

“Go get her, kid,” he says softly. Seeing the boy fumble in his pocket, Sunggyu turns him towards the door. “Free for you.”

It must be about five minutes to closing when the boy finally leaves (“I’m Woohyun, please teach me how to read flowers! And it’s not a her, it’s a he! Thank you so much for giving this to me for free!”). Sunggyu lets his head fall back, and he blows out a long breath. It’s exhausting, having to deal with over-enthusiastic kids like Woohyun, but at the same time, isn’t it worth it if it brings them a bit of happiness?

The bells hung on the doorframe jingle again. Sunggyu brings his head back up, scowling. There is exactly one minute until he closes for the day; this customer had better be quick.

“HellowelcometoillaillawhatmayIdoforyoutoday?” he says in one quick breath, plastering a smile onto his face, thoroughly done with making good impressions.

Unfortunately, the man in front of him is unfazed, and Sunggyu feels his smile drop just a tiny bit. Oh, . This person looks just as old as he is, and damn, is he good-looking.

“My name is Lee Howon,” he says, flashing a smile that shows off his sharp canines. Sunggyu raises an eyebrow.

“Kim Sunggyu,” he offers in return, and Howon dips his head in acknowledgement.

“Do you mind if I look around?” he asks. Sunggyu glances at the clock, revealing his true feelings. “Oh, I can come back tomorrow.”

“No, it’s okay.” Sunggyu smiles awkwardly, moving to the front of the store to flip his sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. “You’re my last customer of the day.”

When he turns back around, Howon is studying him with a small smile on his face. Sunggyu raises his eyebrows again, and Howon shakes his head slowly.

“You’re an interesting one, Kim Sunggyu,” he murmurs, amused. Sunggyu fights back the urge to roll his eyes and returns to his stool behind the counter. He tries to bury himself in the flower catalogue again, but his eyes keep straying to the man currently caressing a daffodil blossom.

“May I place a request?” Howon looks up, meeting Sunggyu’s eyes. Sunggyu nods, trying to appear nonchalant (no, his heart isn’t beating like crazy, what is he talking about?).

“Why not?” He picks up a pencil, and Howon smiles, the sunset shining through his hair.

“Hoya,” he says simply, turning to face the orange glow. “I’ll come again.”

He leaves, and the silver bells jingle emptily in the quiet store, leaving Sunggyu with an unusual feeling of loss in his heart.

Hoya. Sunggyu doesn’t know the meaning behind that one.

***

A week passes before Howon visits again. In the meantime, however, Woohyun frequents illa illa, telling Sunggyu excitedly about how his date turned out, talking about his everyday life, even occasionally helping out around the store. Sunggyu sits patiently through the torrent of words, nodding his head mechanically.

Finally, when the sun sets at the end of the day, when he can’t take any more of Woohyun’s babbling, Sunggyu shoves a yellow tulip into the boy’s hands (“Give this to your Kim Myungsoo”) and pushes him out the door. Unfortunately, Woohyun crashes into a certain Lee Howon, who seems to be holding back a laugh.

Sunggyu flees to the safety of the back room, embarrassed beyond reason (Howon’s laugh, Howon’s hair, Howon’s eyes). What is wrong with him? Kim Sunggyu does not lose to anyone in any aspect, especially emotional feelings.

With that thought in mind, Sunggyu marches back out, determined to hold his image. Howon leans against the counter, eyes shining with amusement, and Sunggyu feels his heart skip a beat.

“What was that all about?” Howon asks with a laugh. He runs his hand through his hair, and Sunggyu scowls, feeling his cheeks burn.

“He was annoying me,” he mutters, bending down behind the counter. “Here, your hoya.”

The succulent leaves glow in the late afternoon sun, and the thick petals of the white flowers nod with the motion of being pushed across the countertop. Howon’s eyes soften, and he reaches out slowly, running the tips of his fingers along the flowers.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and Sunggyu lowers his eyes with a nod.

“I went through pains to get that for you, you know,” he grumbles without conviction. If he had looked up right then, he would have seen Howon’s gaze on him, melting into something called love.

But he doesn’t.

Howon clears his throat. “Sweet William,” he says quietly. Sunggyu lifts his head, a hint of annoyance glinting in his eyes.

“Stop picking plants I don’t know,” he complains. Howon laughs, picking up his hoya, and waves.

“I’ll see you again,” he calls, and with a tinkling of the bells, he’s gone again. Sunggyu stares after him, lips pressed tightly together, almost imitating the squeezing feeling in his heart.

Hoya, sculpture. What a weird meaning, and what a weird request. Sweet William, huh? We’ll see, Howon. We’ll see.

***

Sunggyu props his head in his hands, staring absently at a scrap piece of paper. “Uh huh,” he says listlessly, not even bothering to listen to Woohyun’s words. “Wow, cool.”

He rouses himself and glances at the clock. Ten minutes to closing. Abruptly, he stands up, startling Woohyun into silence. “You better go home,” Sunggyu warns, ushering the boy out of the door. “I’m about to close.”

“Aw, I’m not done with my story yet!” Woohyun pouts, and to shut him up, Sunggyu hands him the curling vines of a sweet pea.

“Delicate pleasures,” he explains with a sweet smile, “and departure. Next time, kid.”

Woohyun leaves defiantly, and Sunggyu leans against the doorframe, propping open the heavy glass door with his body. Ah, the sun is setting earlier and earlier every day. Autumn is coming, and soon, the prices of his flowers will skyrocket. Then he’ll have even less business than he usually does.

Well, it’s not his fault flowers don’t grow during the winter. Sunggyu closes his eyes and turns his face towards the sun, letting its soothing warmth wash over him.

“Did you find it?” a voice, barely tinged with a smile, whispers in his ear. Sunggyu jumps, nearly falling over in shock, and Howon laughs. “I’m sorry, I thought you were asleep.”

Sunggyu scowls, crossing his arms. “Gallantry, a smile,” he snaps, pushing open the door. The sunlight illuminates his flowers, and Sunggyu’s face softens as he reaches for a high shelf. “It’s a beautiful choice.”

Howon smiles, taking one of the ruffled pink petals in his fingers. “Yes,” he agrees, looking up at Sunggyu. “Beautiful.” His gaze never wavers, and Sunggyu shrugs.

“What will it be this time?” he asks quietly, sitting down on his stool. Howon glances down at the pot in his hands, back up at Sunggyu’s almost-pained expression, and around at the flowers in the store.

“Tell me why you became a florist,” he says, and Sunggyu’s eyes flash in surprise. He lets out a chuckle and crosses his legs, stretching his arms.

“Well,” he starts, smiling, “I was just out of college, desperate for a job, and happened upon an old friend of my father’s. He offered me a position here, as an assistant, and I accepted. You have to realize now,” Sunggyu warns, voice deepening, “I do not believe in flowers, beauty, or love. These things may bring you happiness now, but eventually, all of them will wither.”

“That’s not true,” Howon cuts in. “What about those couples who stay together for eighty-something years? What about those models who stay pretty forever?”

Sunggyu snorts, uncrossing his legs to lean forward, meeting Howon's eyes. “Those couples may truly be in love,” he admits with a smile. “I admire them for bearing through so much together. However, those models and girl who stay beautiful, they achieve that through artificial methods, and to me, that is simply despicable.”

Howon nods, acknowledging Sunggyu’s words, and gestures for him to continue.

“I needed money,” Sunggyu goes on, “so I came. My father’s friend, he taught me how to take care of all the flowers here, how to read into their meanings, and how to understand the people who come.” He pauses. “After a heart attack, he left this place to me, and I… well, I took it.”

He glances at Howon, a self-mocking smile on his lips. “It’s ironic,” he says, shaking his head. “I know everything about these plants, yet I don’t believe in anything they do.”

“And what do they do?” Howon asks softly. Sunggyu looks up, fingertips softly tapping against the wood of the countertop.

“They make people fall in love,” he says slowly, meeting Howon’s eyes. “And I never did believe in that.”

Silence. They stay like that, and Howon’s eyes are unreadable. The sunlight recedes, and the little flower shop turns cold. Finally, Sunggyu stands up, breaking his gaze, and begins to gather up the rotted flowers. “I’m sorry,” he says, a hint of tears in his voice. “I shouldn’t have let you stay so long.”

“No.” There’s something in Howon’s tone that makes Sunggyu drop his flowers and turn around. The pot of Sweet William sits on the counter, and Howon has moved to stand in front of him.

“Violets,” Howon breathes, taking Sunggyu’s hands in his own. “Blue violets.”

Sunggyu feels his breath catch in his throat, and even as he clutches at Howon’s fingers, his heart threatens to burst because finally, finally, someone comes to prove the flowers true, to break his steadfast disbelief.

“Carnation,” he replies shakily. “Red carnation.”

---

Yellow tulips: hopeless love

Blue violets: love, faithfulness

Red carnation: yes

Thank you all so much for reading this! I loosely based this off the flowers prompt that the owners gave,

and I hope it was good enough lol (but then again I wrote this in like half an hour cri)