I listened to Schindler's List OST while typing this up. If you think it's dramatic it's probably because I was getting TOOO into the music. I do suggest to read it with music!

“This for you!” a boy huffed in broken Mandarin pushing a blood red peony to another boys hands. “I-I remember you liked flowers… So for my goodbye I grew this! So take this!” he explained his gift.

The other boy, eight year old Zhang Yixing, studied the flower. “You grew this for me?” he asked, his eyes shining with gratefulness. “It’s so pretty, kitty!” he cried as he threw himself on the other.

“Ai! Stop that! I’m not Kitty! I’m ...!” the other boy cried in Korean, thumbing his chest as he cried his name a thousand times. However little Yixing didn’t listen as he looked at his gift.

“This is so pretty…” Yixing whispered as he gently touched the flower. He looked at his friend, smiling. “I won’t forget you, Kitty.” he assured, patting the other’s shoulder. Then his expression turned worried. “You won’t forget me right? Tell me we will meet again!” he quickly asked for comfort.

The Korean boy blushed as he leaned back, trying to process the other’s words. “No worries. We will meet again.” he comforted.

“Where? Here? Oh what if I move?” Yixing quietly whined, biting his nails.

“Stop that,” the boy slapped Yixing’s hand down in disgust, “We will meet at South Korea! That’s where I live!” he cried, pointing at the sky as if that was Korea.

Yixing looked in amazement. “You live? Home? Korea?” he asked quietly. He smiled wide before looking at the boy. “Yes! I’ll go to Korea! I’ll find you and we can hang out again!” he cried, clapping his hands in joy.

The boy huffed, crossing his arms. “Alright! We can meet each other in at the Han River at the first snowfall! I’ll be there waiting for you!” he cried, putting a hand on his hips. “I’ll be wearing my dad’s white scarf! So look for someone wearing a white scarf!”

Quickly, Yixing answered back in agreement, “I’ll be wearing a red scarf!”

“Why red?” his friend criticized, his eyes squinting as if he was disgusted with the color.

The small Chinese boy smiled before holding up the flower. “Because the flower is red!” he answered, shyly.

His friend gulped embarrassed. “O-Oh… How about you bring your prettiest flower? You’re going to be growing flowers right?” he asked.

Yixing nodded, his fists tight in balls confidently. “Yes! It’s my destiny!” he cried.

The other boy snickered, lightly pushing Yixing’s shoulder. “Sure, sure… Destiny.” For a moment, his smile fell before coming again. “Alright! So it’s decided? We’ll meet at the first snowfall?” he asked, lifting his pinkie.

For a moment, Yixing just looked at his friend’s waiting pinkie. He was going to have to work hard to move and live in Korea. That meant having to study twice as hard and be extra good. If that was all he had to do to see his friend again, then he’ll do it. Yixing grinned as he wrapped his pinkie with his friends.

“Alright!”

“Yixing! My wife is going to kill me! Do you have those emergency flowers?!” A man cried as he pushed the door inside a small flower shop. He looked frantically for the florist, seeing him no where. “Yixing? Yixing?!” he cried again.

“Oh Mister Bo! Back again?” A soft voice answered from the back. There stood 28 year old Zhang Yixing, smiling as he took off his gardening gloves. “I was just in the back taking care of some flowers! I’m assuming you forgot to get your wife a gift for your anniversary again?” he guessed as he made his way behind the counter.

Mister Bo sniffed, nodding as he ran his hands through his hair. “She’s going to kill me!” he grumbled.

Yixing let out a laugh as he punched in some buttons to his register. “No worries. I knew you would forget, so I prepared ahead of time!” he pulled out a bouquet of red roses out from his counter’s shelves.

The man grinned in glee. “Oh thank god! You’re a lifesaver!” he cried as he hugged the bouquet. “How much do I need to pay?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

“25 dollars and fifty cents as usual.” Yixing answered as he watched the other pull out a couple of bills from the wallet. He took it and put it in his cash register, only pulling out the change he owes back. “I hope your wife likes the flowers!” he said as he handed the change back.

“Oh you know she will! She likes anything from you Yixing!” The man huffed, stuffing the change in his pockets. “I’ll see you later, alright? Thanks again!” he cried as he quickly left the store, leaving Yixing waving.

Once he was sure he was alone, Yixing let out a sigh. “Ugh, my back.” he cried as he leaned back. It’s been so long since he took a break. For as long as he could remember, all he’s been doing is work. Working to make something true, only to find it was nothing but a lie...

“I’ll just take a small break.” he muttered as he walked back through the door in which he just came out of. Inside the room was large masses of blood red peonies, with only a chair that occupied the whole room. There was no watering can nor a shelf for the gardening tools. Just a wooden chair in the middle of the massive peony invasion.

A small grunt left Yixing’s lips as he sat himself in the chair. He let his head hang as he  sat down, closing his eyes. Slowly, he slipped down the chair a bit, as he leaned his head back. His breaths came in and out softly, that being the only sounds in the room besides the outside noise.

This was his comfort space.

His comfort space was just this small greenhouse that was linked beside the shop. Anyone around who never knew him would be so confused as to why this place should be his comfort zone. That’s because they don’t realize how much these flowers mean to him or how this whole place symbolizes something for him. They wouldn’t realize just how comforting this place this place is or much at ease it puts Yixing in.

However, only a few people are allowed back there for that reason. That being him and his friends. Well, friend. Yixing didn’t have many friends around here. Even in China, he was his own friend.

“Stupid!”

“Disgrace!”

The names rang Yixing’s ears as he slowly opened his eyes. A small smile came across his face as he meet with the shimmering light of the sun. His hand covered it’s way so he could see. “So bright.” he whispered roughly. Slowly, he leaned forward, his black locks falling over his eyes.

If only the flowers could talk to him, then he wouldn’t be so lonely. Maybe he would have even more friends who wouldn’t spit on his face or who wouldn’t screech how much of a you are, just because you realize the pretty girls weren’t suited for you.

No, they would probably laugh along with him as he tells them stories of his day. The flowers would comfort him when he returned, after waiting out in the snow for nearly five hours for someone who would never show.

Yixing stared ahead of him at a white peony. It was surrounded by the other blood peony’s, being the only one to stick out. If only they had feelings… Maybe he could hear their cries, and frustrations. Just like this one. What if that flower was curious as to why he was white? Why was he so different from the others?

If only they had feelings...

The florist sighed heavily as he leaned back. He stretched his hands to the sky, out loud. Slowly, his hands fell, as his eyes slowly fell halfway, looking upward at peony’s he had water not too long ago. The water just dripping from their leaves and petals.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

“I’m so tired of waiting…” Yixing whispered. Nothing answered. His fixture on the peony’s fell to the ground. “So tired…” he let out one more time, “so, so tired.”

Slowly, he got up to leave. It was already fifteens minutes till closing time. It wasn’t like anyone would come in at that exact moment.

Just at that moment, the entrance bell’s let out a scream that someone had entered the shop. Yixing’s eyes sort of lit up, as if he was almost happy someone else was here. As if this someone could help him with his loneliness problem. He walked out the room to catch a tall Korean man who gazed at the painting of a blood dripping peony, which hung on the wall behind his register..

“Can I help you?” Yixing asked, watching as the man’s eyes tore from the painting to his eyes. He gave a small smile. “My name is Zhang Yixing. I’m the florist and the owner of this shop, so I can take care of anything you need.” he assured.

A strong scent of men's cologne spread throughout the shop. It smelled nice but stung Yixing’s nose. The man stared at Yixing for a bit before pointing at the painting. “That flower. I wish to buy some.” he spoke. When the man spoke, a cold blew down Yixing’s collar as he listened. His dark eyes seemed to look deep into Yixing’s empty black ones. This man gave Yixing the chills.

“Oh peonies? I only have blood red peonies, is that alright with you?” Yixing asked with a smile.

The other man nodded, as he looked at the painting again. “Yes.” he answered.

The florist didn’t press on for further conversations. He walked towards the side end of the shop, to pull out a bouquet of peonies. “I just want you to know that since these are out of seasons, they are pretty expensive. Peonies tend to cost about $10 per stem, which would make this bouquet about $100.” Yixing informed as he set it on the counter.

When he looked up to see if the man was listening, all that greeted his eyes was the man’s side profile. Yixing looked to where he was looking at, and saw it was the same painting. He smiled as he spoke up, “My friend painted that. He said he noticed the amount of peonies I have around here and decided to paint me a rather large canvas of one.”

The man didn’t look at Yixing. He just stared on at the painting. He leaned his head to the side, his eyes looking at every detail of the work. “It’s bleeding.” he muttered lowly.

Yixing nodded sadly, as he punched some buttons in the register. “Yes. My friend told me it was because of my massive ‘collection’ of blood red peonies. Though I do not collect flowers, I grow them.” he explained. He looked up to now catch the man’s eyes. “That’ll be $100.”

No hesitation. The man laid down $200 as he picked his bouquet up. “Keep the change.” he muttered as he turned to leave.

The florist frowned. “But you gave me too much! It’s only half of what you gave me.” he argued. He gulped once the man looked at him coldly.

“Use it to grow more peonies, Mister Zhang.”

With that, the man left. The smell of his cologne lingered around, clinging onto Yixing’s nose before leaving. Yixing frowned, as he looked down at the money. He looked outside to see the man walking down the street, getting smaller and smaller as he walked further into the 7 o'clock summer afternoon.

“I wonder what kind of story that man has.” Yixing wondered aloud as he put the cash in. He leaned onto the counter, as he looked out as if he could still see the mysterious customer. “What kind of story shaped a mystery such as himself?” he muttered.

A small buzz alerted him that someone sent a text. Yixing pulled his phone out to see it was none other than Park Chanyeol, his best friend. He swiped upward to unlock his phone. The message gave him a chuckle as he read it.

Chanyeol: Hey, Xing hyung~ Sorry I couldn’t stop by today! I was super busy with this project my boss left me T T Tomorrow, for sure, I’ll be stopping by! So expect a small visit from me x;}

Yixing grinned as he typed his response. Chanyeol was an old friend, who stuck with Yixing through rought times. The younger man actually makes sure Yixing is alright and never forgets to text everyday. It’s a good thing. Yixing doesn’t get many texts, only those for bills or random numbers who think it’s their cousin. Chanyeol’s text makes him feel unforgotten

The florist only grinned as he put his phone back in his pocket. He grabbed his keys to lock up the shop. Yixing walked outside, before turning back around to lock up. He pushed and pulled the door to test if it was lock, which was a success. With a smile, he turned around to walk to his apartment which laid a few blocks away.

Yixing: I’ll be waiting.

Dear Diary,

It’s been the same, only an interesting man came in. He was looking at the painting Chanyeol painted for me, as if he was trying to feel deeper with it. Maybe he’s an artist. It sure did seem like he was. Not much happened really. Just Mister Bo forgetting his wife a present for their anniversary. I suppose I can close off today with something small. Rest well, until next time

                                                                                    - CLOSE, Zhang Yixing