~ They didn’t know but some words cut deeper than a knife.

With her new, strawberry blonde hair, Mina looks like a real pixie or a cute cartoon character from those stupid video games Wonpil adores so much. Younghyun wonders how the girl could make it more obvious that she likes his bandmate a tiny bit more than a simple buddy. And whether his admiration for Bomi is just as clear as the undeniable happiness in the florist’s dark chocolate eyes.

’Do you want me to arrange you a beautiful bouquet of lilies? I practiced,’ she singsongs cheerfully with an adorably gummy smile that makes the other beam with pleasure. It’s been a while since the musician felt so happy in his own skin – without the dancer being around, of course - therefore this sudden change in spirit truly surprises him, catching him off guard as his lips curve upwards without any proper reason. Seriously, why does he smile so broadly?

’Thank you, Mina, but no,’ he answers with eternal kindness as he leans closer to a clay vase not so far from the pink flowers he observed. Although, he found them quite nice, he looks for something utterly special with delicate scent and more vivid petals. ’This time, I’m looking for a flower with a different meaning.’

While he speaks, he looks directly into Mina's eyes then turns back to the clay vase full of blue forget-me-nots. They are his mother's favourites, but the fact these faint blue petals remind him of his mom, doesn't make them the most romantical choice at all. In fact, the deep sigh that leaves the man's lips is quite disappointed.

'Oh.'

The realization pulls the ground out of the girl’s feet, leaving her in total dismay as her weak voice echoes in the air, constantly tingling in the musician's ears like a hitched record player or a catchy song from another century. It makes Younghyun's muscles tense, poisoning his mind as if the florist's simple oh could bring chaos, causing the end of the world.

Therefore, he takes a step to the opposite side, diverging from the girl and reaches out for the first thing that comes into his hands.

'What do you think about these? Is it too cliche, giving a bouquet of red roses to a girl?' he asks when one of his fingers touches a beautiful petal all silky and mesmerizing. It doesn't take a minute, he closes his eyes with care and bends over the bloom to sense its magical scent that is milky like the finest perfume from the other side of the Pacific Ocean.

Watching him up-close, Mina thinks about nothing, but their crazy childhood; Jiwon being jealous of everyone who has ever talked with Younghyun, Younghyun playing football with Minkyu, Minkyu watching over her. They were inseparable. At least, until Younghyun moved abroad and Minkyu fell head over heels for her best friend. Their relationship destroyed everything.

'Well... maybe,' she says quietly, desperately trying to hide her true feelings that settle onto her features anyway. What could she possibly say? She's as pathetic at lying as Younghyun is at comforting others or accepting other people's kindness. In some ways, both of them are a lost cause, being in love with someone special. Helplessly falling deeper and deeper. 'But they are quite beautiful.'

’Do you have another idea?’ Younghyun asks, making a face. He wants this day to be perfect because he knows that an opportunity like this is as rare as a white pigeon or a snowfall in the middle of July. He cannot ask Bomi out with the biggest cliche of all time.

’Hmm, let me think.’ Mina, sinking into her thoughts, puts one of her index fingers onto her lips and turns her back on the musician with a faint chord of a children’s song. She walks step by step, extremely slowly, as she recalls her hidden knowledge of her parents’ shop, the flowers in it and the list of their meanings which she had to learn her first day, working as a part-time florist. ’What do you think about these?’

She picks up a brown vase filled with rounded blooms and pushes it under Younghyun’s nose with an omniscient look that scares the hell out of the man. He straightens his eyes, confused, while his gaze loiters over the girl’s face then glides onto the colourful flowers. There are white and pink petals everywhere, highlighted by aeruginous leaves that surround them with a chic style.

’They’re pretty,’ he says quietly, his hands touching the top of the flowers. Although, he has never seen something like these before, at least not in a bouquet, he kinda likes the idea of giving them to his beautiful princess. They look just as special as she is.

’It’s camellia japonica,’ she informs the musician with grace, smiling like an innocent child who got the biggest lollipop at the local carnival. As much as she tries to, she simply cannot get Wonpil’s last gift out of her head therefore her mind fills with sweet memories of the two of them, speaking and laughing on the balcony, watching the pink petals that carried the synthesizer’s confession. ’The white one means you’re amazing while the pink one says I find you attractive and want you in my life,’ she explains, pointing at different petals in different times. Her slim fingers loiters over the blooms she talks about.

’And what’s about the red one?’ Younghyun asks, looking at the flowers on the other side of the room. They rest in a painted vase, standing out from their surroundings, hidden, as if someone put them onto the highest self on purpose.

Following her friend’s gaze, Mina turns to the metal scaffold then takes a step, two, three towards the enormous staging. She puts her small palm onto the second self without a second thought and reaches out for the flowers on tiptoe, making the young man chuckle. Truth to tell, Mina looks ridiculous – and ridiculously cute – as her feet barely leave the ground yet her lungs seem ready to give up.

Wiping the diamondlike tears out of the corners of his eyes, Younghyun steps behind the florist’s back and help his friend getting the flowers he’s curious about.

’You’re the fire in my heart,’ she whispers under her snub nose when her eager fingers finally grab the crimson blooms, filling her nostrils with their characteristic, sweet scent.

Deep in her thoughts, the girl doesn’t even realize that her head fits close to the musician’s manly chest until it’s too late and her strong point dissolves into thin air, leaving her all alone. As Younghyun steps die in the middle of their movements, waiting for the girl to follow, Mina hisses at the stabbing pain caused by her own face that crashed into her shoulder.

’Perfect,’ he says, looking at the crimson blossoms then the girl who holds them kindly.

As they arrive to the huge, wooden table placed into the middle of the floral shop, Mina becomes a completely different person, putting the red flowers onto each other. She works with pure daintiness as if the blooms under her hands were all alive, begging her, asking for mercy.

She doesn’t look at Younghyun nor the leaves that fall off of the flower when she speaks up on her best friend’s behalf.

’Jiwon was sad when she realized that you wouldn’t show up on my birthday party. She missed you.’ It’s not a lie, she really did miss him just as his old and new friends, his mates and the birthday girl herself. Most of them didn’t understand his reasons and sadly Jiwon was one of those who d in the darkness, trapped in their own version of reality. She didn’t realized that it was all her fault, hers and Minkyu’s.

And she still doesn’t have the faintest idea of what she did with Younghyun’s heart when she gave up on him and left him without a proper goodbye or explanation.

’Did you get my present?’ he asks, making a ridiculous attempt at diverting the bothersome topic that tugs his stomach and drives him out of the world. Talking about his first love and the way their ways separated doesn’t belong to those things that are dear to the young man’s heart, not in the least. Therefore, he puts his elbows onto the table’s plane surface, looks directly into the florist’s eyes and cleares his throat with a light threat that warns the younger to stop.

Mina swallows a bitter sigh and bends over the bouquet, finishing the final touches. She fixes some ugly petals that stick out of the others, cuts those leaves that would otherwise destroy the total effect and bonds the packing with glimmering satisfaction in her eyes.

She picks up her masterpiece, smiling like an idiot, and puts it onto her rigid friend’s manly hands.

’Yeah. I liked it. Thank you,’ she answers, touching the golden necklace underneath her shirt. As her slim fingers find the small, star-shaped pendant, the girl’s heart skips a beat, expanding her ever so beautiful smile. It’s something Younghyun likes the most about his childhood friend; the way she cares, loves and cheers up everyone who she ever met. She doesn’t hold grudges nor turn her back on the weak. Instead, she looks for the beauty in the smallest things, finds them and shows them to those who lost their faith in the world.

’Well, I guess her feelings are not that important anymore,’ she states, patting the musician’s bladebone with eternal kindness. Then, she takes the bouquet’s price and puts it into the cash register on the other side of the table.

’Hopefully.’

There was a time when Younghyun wished nothing but his feelings to be gone. But now, as he looks at the crimson japonicas in his hands, he is happy that there are requests that simply cannot be granted. Because they remain unfulfilled with a reason. They help people appreciate the good in their lives.

Looking at the watch on his wrist, Younghyun fondles Mina’s strawberry blonde hair then steps out of the building, leaving the floral shop behind. The florist’s cheesy good luck with that still tinkles in his ears when he gets into his cab, telling the right address to the taxi driver.

Bomi’s index finger runs over the pattern lock screen then touches the small, envelope-shaped icon so that she can reread the short text message she got almost ten minutes ago. It came from Younghyun, asking whether she's okay and if she is then what she's planning for the rest of the afternoon. With a dramatic sigh, the girl bites her lower lip and looks around in the messy living room; the crowded table and the printed pages all over the floor. She leans close to her macbook and - just like the last eight or nine times - closes the mailbox without a proper answer, sinking her phone into her ripped jeans. She returns to the narrow article she found a few minutes ago and skims the lines with rush, desperately trying to know more and more about the car crash that demanded five lives including the driver's, Han Jiyoung.

Most of the journalists put the blame on the young woman whose older sister died on the spot, leaving her sibling alone with a piece of windshield protruding from her chest. The blur picture made by an amateur camera tugs the dancer's stomach, forcing her to close the page immediately. The phantom grief that choked her neck back in the hospital now overflows in her system, poisoning her veins, head and mind. It destroys everything she cares about, starting with her own sanity.

It's the doorbell that tears her out of her imagination, this strange mixture of real memories and fantasy-like flashes, genuine smiles, bitter tears and loss, oh so much loss. She stands up immediately.

Walking step by step, Bomi fixes her messy bun then puts her right hand onto the handle, looking at the infernal device in her pocket. She should have told him something, anything. She should have lied, about an unexisting program she wishes to hell and even farther, straight to Switzerland. Why couldn't she just turn him down, coming up with something believable?

She takes a deep breath and swallows the bile in although, no matter how hard she tries, the bitter aftertaste doesn't leave the tip of her tongue. It stays, reminding her all the mistakes she made. She should have never turned towards the debate in front of the hospital's reception nor talk to the broken man from her dreams. She should have walked out of the building as she promised, walking straight to the jeep.

'Hey! What's up?' she asks with a bright smile so fake it hurts both her and the man standing behind the threshold. Even though she takes her best shot, she's unable to hide her acerbity that settles onto her already sour features like a bird that puts some broken sprigs onto a branch, making its new home.

Honestly, it's not Younghyun's fault. It's all about timing, moving into the wrong direction. Yet, he has way too high hopes to notice the inevitable.

'Can I come in?' Younghyun asks, tilting his head to right with pure curiosity. He scratches his nape with his index finger, nervously, panicking as he scolds his brain to work. Yet, it seems to be out of order, throwing bomb-shaped word vomits right into his face. Why is it so hard to find the right words? He is a goddamn musician for God's sake! He wrote more than just a single lyrics for their band, playing with the synonyms when no one was watching. Confessing his weak heart's only desire should be as easy as pie and simple like taking a breath.

Bomi's gaze loiters over Younghyun's figure, from the bottom of his boots to the top of his head, and takes a nap on the pretty flowers bonded into such a lovely bunch. She thinks about the abandoned maple syrup that lays under her bed and feels sorry for the blooms sentenced to droop, dying in a vase in the middle of her bedside table.

'Oh... yeah, sure,' she answers right away, taking a step backwards. She flings the door open then lifts her right arm, pointing at the leather couch in the left side of their living room. It's messy; full of papers, chaotic notes and printed pictures. Yet, it is still better than the carpet in her pink room decorated with childish drawings and posters all over the walls. Escorting him there would be much more embarrassing.

'Do you want something to drink? Tea? Lemonade?' the girl asks, picking up the fallen papers. She puts them under her macbook, turning the computer off.

’Lemonade is perfect.’

As Bomi leaves, Younghyun puts the japonicas onto the table and takes a look around, running his fingers over the selves and the fireplace with real logs inside. Then, he glides them onto a framed picture of a little girl and her wealthy family. She looks young, couldn’t be older than six, smiling into the camera with missing teeth, surrounded by her helpless parents and a maiden, standing in the background. Or is it her grandmother? Nevermind, the old lady, frozen in the middle of her movements, holds a cup of hot drink, looking at the child with care. While, on the other hand, her parents stand in the snow, watching their little girl building a snowman twice as tall as she is.

All smiling, Younghyun walks across the room, preoccupied. Lost in his own thoughts, he doesn’t even notice the wooden table, standing in front of him. Therefore, the crash is written in the stars. Just as the faint knock that follows the macbook’s fall onto the ground.

The musician sits onto his heels, turning his head left and right before he picks up the device and puts it back to its original place, the wooden table next to his side. Then, when he leans onto his knees, putting his weight on them, his uneasy gaze sticks to a creasy paper, hiding under the couch. It’s a printed picture, all black and white, of a man who walks down the streets with a dark hood on the top of his head. Really suspicious. Especially when Younghyun rears himself up and sees the other photos in the right corner of the table. They must be hidden under the macbook all along.

As Bomi’s faint steps become louder, Younghyun swallows his curiosity and sits down as if nothing has happened. Because, it is really nothing, right? Just some strange pictures of a man, tsk, not a big deal at all. He saw more than enough movie to know that he’s probably her older brother or a badly handsome friend with a wife and two children. Everything is just fine.

Her brother? Did you see him on the family pictures?

The musician shakes his head and sits on the sofa.

’Thank you,’ he mumbles, taking the transparent glass filled with faint yellow lemonade. It tastes sour from the first sip to the last. ’How are you feeling?

’Fine.’ Although, there is something in her voice, something elusive, that Younghyun cannot understand. Her eyes that always brought him happiness now tugs the musician’s stomach in an uncomfortable way that pushes him to his limits. As the first drops of sweat appear on his forehead, he balances at the edge of fainting and throwing up. ’So, what about you?’

He watches her drinking, inhaling the fruity fragrance of the red berry tea. His gaze loiters over the dancer’s petite body, her trembling hands and her eyes that glides onto the printed pictures and the macbook in front of them. Her pretty brows abut as she notices the change in the setting.

’I’m okay,’ he says after he puts down the empty glass not so far from the crimson petals. It would be a lie to say that the girl’s attitude doesn’t freak him out but it’s a now or never situation. With courage, he can win the lottery; and so much more than that. ’I bought this for you.’

’It’s beautiful, thank you,’ she says with a chaste smile on her pretty face. As her slim fingers touch the bouquet, she lifts the gift in front of her snub nose and inhales the blooms’ pleasant scent that reminds her of the most marvelous season of all. She has always found wonderful how easily the nature resuscitates during the first weeks of spring and shines through the others.

’It’s a flower called japonica. It means… well, it means I like you,’ he confesses, taking advantage of the muteness that puts its nerve-racking weight on them, out the last drops of oxygen from the building. He reaches out to the girl, touching her soft skin, then puts the bouquet onto the ground so that he can hold her hands. He doesn’t like the way her body shakes, trembling like a withered leaf dancing in the wind.

’What?’ the girl asks, looking at the musician in disbelief. Her dark brown eyes are like melted chocolate; they glitter with confusion, happiness and plenty of hidden rage that breaks out of her heart as if the unknown past would try to wake her up. She feels betrayed although she cannot decide who the real traitor is. Younghyun? Or her own heart?

’Would you like to go out with me sometime?’ the musician asks, lifting Bomi’s hands in front of his mouth. He puts his lips onto the girl’s knuckles, desperately trying to dwell on the conversation although the dancer’s insoluble facial expressions do nothing but harm. They steal the musician’s confidence and turn him onto a complete mess. ’On a date, to be exact.’

Sometimes, silence has a much more senseful meaning than speaking. Sometimes, it means more then the absolute absence of sounds and echoes. Sometimes, it implies the loudest and most powerful scream a human being could ever hear. It’s not just a melody, playing in your ears, messing with your thoughts. It’s the blank canvas that hides what’s really happening.

’I really am sorry but I can’t accept this,’ the girl says with her gaze focused on the abandoned flowers then the musician himself. It breaks her heart, seeing him sad. ’You should go.’

Standing up, Bomi walks towards the entrance without a second thought just as Younghyun who grabs her arm without thinking. He clenches his palm with rage regardless of the pain he might cause. He acts out of instincts.

’What?’ he questions as his mind tries to solve the puzzle, the impossible and find the exact moment when he misunderstood the girl’s intentions. How could he get this so wrong? How could he misread their sweet talks and late night dates? ’But I thought… You said you liked me!’

Bomi’s heart stops beating - she doesn’t know what to say or how to say it properly, not without looking into those hurted eyes she’s just created. She cannot do it, she isn’t ready. She’s unable to face reality, her own reality, the cruel one with corpses and broken hearts. But how could she possibly explain him something she doesn’t quite understand? The equation of changing from one moment to another.

’Well, I do not.’ She doesn’t know. ’Sorry.’

If only, their path would have crossed before the accident. If only, they would have met before her heart stopped beating for good. Then, she would have said yes within a blink of an eye, without hesitation. But time changes just as people. And now, she’s not so sure anymore. Wouldn’t it be much more cruel, saying yes when her new heart beats for someone else?

’Sorry? That’s all that you’ve got?’ the musician asks, half-jokingly, half-seriously. His artificial laughter sounds bitter as he lets the girl’s arm go. He looks at her palm in shame, taking a tiny step backwards with his bowed head. His voice sounds raspy in spite of the fact that he clears it multiple times before he opens his mouth. ’Yesterday, you said…’

’I said, you look too skinny to have anyone who has a crush on you,’ the girl screams, lifting her trembling hands in front of her own mouth. She cannot believe that she said something wicked like this. She doesn’t… Her beautiful eyes are big, almost rounded as the heavy mixture of self-loathing and regret overflows in her system, refilling the void that her evaporated anger left behind.

’Screw you!’ Younghyun whispers, fighting with his unmanly tears, constantly piercing his eyes. They blur the world when it becomes too ugly to look at. Hence, when he clenches his lips then waves towards the printed pictures, laying on the table, he sees nothing but patches. He misses the evident, the sorrow that twitches Bomi’s lips and settles onto her features. ’I don’t know who the hell he is but I’m sure that he deserves better.’

With that, he walks out of the house, leaving the dumbfounded girl behind.

He wanders in the city for hours, observing all those strangers who pass him by, laughing. He doesn’t even realize that he starts crying until the wind becomes colder and his warm teardrops, that run through his cheeks, completely freeze out.

During the first ten minutes, he thought that Bomi might run after him. In the first hour, he still hoped. Now, he knows that he will never see her again. And the realization only breaks his heart; breaks it into pieces.

author's note
Okay, I actually made it - haha. I still cannot believe that I am able to post today, it's so fantastic.
Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter, too. Just as I hope that Bomi's reasons were clear. She is not a heartless , not at all. The titles are all about Younghyun's personal opinions, his thoughts about the girl's personality from chapter to chapter.
Thank you so much for reading this crazy story! And lyricalwritings, your theories were just epic. I'm glad you shared your ideas with me.
Have a nice day xx