Yeojoo meets Hoseok near the daffodils.

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It’s a Tuesday afternoon, an ordinary day just like any other, and Yeojoo is in her favorite place in the entire world.

She’s at the Blue Moon Botanical Gardens, located just outside the perimeter of the city, and everything is absolutely perfect.

The Blue Moon Botanical Gardens are a welcome escape from the hustle and bustle of urban life, fixed on a massive plot of gorgeous rural land, thousands and thousands of acres of carefully-cultivated garden spaces, both indoors and outdoors, housing all sorts of rare, exotic, and simply breathtaking plant and flower species, all for the purposes of research, education, and the simple enjoyment of the world’s great botanical beauty. The Gardens also house magnificent fountains and water displays, rolling hills and whimsical winding pathways, towering trees and long stretches of perfect green grass, each area accompanied by the presence of sweet little songbirds and colorful butterflies. It’s a haven for romantics, for artists, and, surprisingly enough, for scientists, like Yeojoo herself.

Okay, so she’s not really a scientist yet. She’s just a graduate student studying biology at the nearby university. But she likes to already think of herself as a scientist; it’s been her dream for as long as she can remember. And she’s always taken a special interest in flowers, not just because they’re so beautiful, but because they’re so fascinating. She loves learning about how flowers grow in different habitats, how they interact with the ecosystems around them, how they spread and make the world so full and so lush. She loves how flowers, despite their delicate nature, are so alive, so filled with wonder and depth the likes of which only few can really appreciate.

Since moving to the city several months ago and discovering the Blue Moon Botanical Gardens, she’s visited as often as she can, riding the train out to the countryside to spend as long as she wants to taking photos, sketching, making notes, and just walking around and admiring all of the different flowers on display, marveling at both their beauty and their complexity.

And days like today are simply the best. It’s the middle of the afternoon in the middle of the week, and with many of the gardens nearly empty, it feels like she has the entire place to herself. It’s kind of a shame, really, because it’s the ideal day for a visit here, a day in the middle of spring with perfect weather, the sky a soft, pale blue, cloudless and sunny, the air warm and gentle, the blooming flowers filling the whole of the gardens with their sweet scents and their vibrant colors mixing together like she’s stepped into a painting.

And whenever she comes here to walk through the gardens, Yeojoo feels like a real scientist, yes, but she also feels like she’s in a fairytale. Even today, when she looks completely ordinary, completely boring, she can’t help but feel like a princess, even with just her plain white blouse and pink pleated skirt and basic white sneakers. Her long, straight, chocolate-brown hair falls down her back neatly and her bangs hover over her wide brown eyes and cute facial features, Yeojoo every bit the stereotypical schoolgirl, but even so, she feels like a goddess here, like the keeper and the queen of this beautiful earthly paradise.

If only there wasn’t someone else here right now to ruin her little fantasy.

And it’s a stupid boy, no less.

Yeojoo senses him before she sees him, feels the shift in the air at the sudden presence of another person disturbing her serenity and solitude. She’s in the daffodil garden, crouched down on the stone pathway in front of a thick patch of the uniquely-shaped blossoms, cheery and inviting in bright yellow and creamy white, hundreds of them bunched together so tightly that Yeojoo swears she could jump right in and sleep there like a pixie in the sunshine, their rich fragrance a sweet, buttery perfume permeating the air. She’s got her camera in her hands, taking photos from every angle to study and to admire later, to add to her ever growing collection of research, and she had just gotten a wonderful shot of a bumblebee landing right in the center of one of the blossoms, the kind of perfect moment that seems too perfect to be real.

And she had been so at peace, so relaxed. But now, she’s just irritated.

She doesn’t even look up at the stranger as he approaches the daffodils, doesn’t even acknowledge his presence. That is, until he moves closer behind her to get a look at the flowers, and his shadow spreads over her, completely ruining the lighting for her shot. That does it.

“Excuse me,” she says, annoyed, standing up straight from her crouching position and turning around to get a better look at the stranger while she tells him off. “I was taking a pho–”

Her words die in at the sight of the boy standing in front of her now because, as much as she hates to admit it, he is very, very, veryhandsome.

She can feel the warmth spreading quick and intense over her cheeks, her heartrate increasing and her eyes wide as her lips part in surprise. He’s about her age, but he’s taller than she is, and he’s got soft-looking black hair, and beautiful, gentle eyes, and handsome facial features offset by cute, heart-shaped nostrils and the most loveable ears that stick out so adorably. He reminds Yeojoo of a bunny, of a big, soft, fluffy dumb bunny.

And his body, well, Yeojoo has to stop herself from drooling as she shamelessly looks him up and down. He’s very muscular, with a broad, sculpted chest and wide shoulders, his thin gray t-shirt stretched tightly over his torso and the short sleeves hugging his thick biceps perfectly. As a scientist, Yeojoo picks up on all of these little details very quickly, a million little scenarios and fantasies flashing through her mind in an instant, and she finds herself stunned into silence for a long moment as she takes it all in. Meanwhile, he just looks at her with a bit of surprise himself, his eyes wide, obviously a little taken aback at her outburst. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that she could see the smallest hint of a blush on his face too.

Still, as handsome as he is, Yeojoo hasn’t forgiven him for disturbing her, nor for causing her to feel so flustered. And she wonders what the heck someone like this boy, someone who looks more like they belong in a gym than a botanical garden, is doing here in the first place. Embarrassed, she takes a few steps back, and before she can stop it, she’s suddenly losing her footing, slipping on an uneven stone and tumbling backwards.

But right before she can fall into the flowers, the boy reaches out for her hand and grabs it to stop her from falling, and his hand is large and warm and strong as he gently pulls her back up to stand straight. Yeojoo can feel that she’s blushing even harder now, and she snatches her hand away quickly, refusing to look the boy in the eye. Instead, she stares off to the side and pouts.

“Be careful,” the boy says, and when she looks at his face again, he’s smiling gently, and she hates how even his teeth are beautiful, glowing white and perfect. “Although, the flowers definitely look soft enough to catch you, right? Like a big, soft blanket that you could just jump right into?”

Yeojoo doesn’t answer, just huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. She stalks away down the path to a different patch of daffodils, but she can hear the frantic footsteps of the boy still trailing behind her.

“Wait!” he pleads, and when he catches up to her, she turns to look at him again, and he looks nervous and shy as he rubs the back of his head with his hand, wincing a little. And yes, he’s definitely blushing now, Yeojoo can’t help but notice, a little tingle of victory racing through her heart that she has just as much of an effect on him as he has on her.

“I...uh...” he stammers, looking at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Yeojoo says quickly, glowering at the boy and ignoring how much she even likes his voice, too. “Do you think you could go look somewhere else? I was taking photos here and you’re distracting me.”

At that, the boy’s eyes light up and he smiles brightly. “You’re a photographer? That’s so cool! I’m–”

“I’m not a photographer,” Yeojoo interrupts, and she’s growing more irritated by this boy’s presence by the second. She suddenly loses steam, however, when their eyes meet, and she sputters a bit before continuing, the deep blush returning to her cheeks and betraying her once again. “Well, I mean, I am a photographer, but I’m really a scientist. And I like flowers. My photos are for research, to study the details of the blossoms.”

The boy looks impressed. “That’s so interesting!” he exclaims, and despite herself, Yeojoo actually smiles a bit, feeling proud. “You must come here all the time.”

“I do,” Yeojoo replies, softening a bit. “And if you don’t mind me asking, I’m curious...what are you doing here? I mean...” She looks him up and down again, and nearly chokes on air when her eyes land on the faint outline of abs that she can see through his shirt.

“I don’t really look like I belong here, do I?” the boy says, and he chuckles, the sound a pleasant, low rumble that Yeojoo can feel warm in her fingertips.

There’s a brief moment of silence between them, and the boy smiles, and Yeojoo can see pride flicker through his eyes much like the pride that she had just been feeling herself. It’s a very specific type of pride, not vain or narcissistic. It’s the pride in one’s passion, and Yeojoo admires that in a person.

“I’m a musician. An aspiring producer,” the boy says, fondly. “I just moved to the city to try to make it big. You know, that whole deal.”

He sighs and looks out at the patches of flowers, follows the flight path of a deep blue butterfly with his eyes. “I thought this would be a good place to find some inspiration,” he says, and he turns to look into Yeojoo’s eyes again, and she’s left a little breathless by the earnestness she sees, and wow, he really is handsome. He’s the most handsome boy that Yeojoo has ever seen. Not that she’ll ever admit that, to him or to anyone else.

“So, you’re some kind of artsy type, then?” Yeojoo asks, raising an eyebrow and brushing off her sudden influx of feelings. “You think there’s some kind of hidden meaning that you’ll find here in the flowers?”

“Of course,” the boy says. He smiles again. “These daffodils, for instance...”

He walks closer to the patch of daffodils and, much like Yeojoo had been doing before, crouches down for a closer look. Yeojoo joins him after a moment, and the boy reaches out to delicately one of the blossoms, so gently that the flower doesn’t even move. Yeojoo has never seen a boy be so gentle, and she has to admit that, despite her annoyance, she’s warming up to him fast.

“Daffodils symbolize new beginnings,” the boy says. He runs his thumb over one of the silky petals, and Yeojoo wonders what his hands would feel like on her face, the thought a simple flicker that vanishes as quickly as it came. “Daffodils are happy and cheerful, but only when they’re in large bunches together like this.”

He blinks and then turns his face to look at Yeojoo, their eyes meeting once again. “But a single daffodil,” he says, “a single daffodil, all alone...it’s...sad, sad and lonely.”

Yeojoo’s heart tremors at his expression. For just a moment, it’s like his soul is completely exposed, like he’s already completely opened himself up to her, like...well...like a flower blooming. Nonetheless, she scoffs and rolls her eyes to save face, ignoring the peculiar, fluttering feeling in her chest.

“That’s all just made-up stuff, you know,” she says. “That “language of flowers” nonsense.” She pauses, looks at the daffodils again. While before, she was the one observing them, now, it seems like they’re the ones observing her. “You don’t need to make stuff up, flowers are interesting and meaningful enough on their own.”

Yeojoo is surprised to see that the boy smiles in response, amused instead of offended. “What’s your name, future Ph.D?” he asks.

Yeojoo grins at that. “I’m Yeojoo,” she says, confident. She blinks a few times, studying the boy’s handsome face, interested the way she would be interested in a beautiful, fascinating flower. “What’s your name, future cynical office worker?” she asks, smirking, unable to resist teasing him.

The boy laughs, smiling wide, and Yeojoo’s heart soars. “I’m Hoseok,” he says, and his name is just like he is, Yeojoo thinks. Strong and masculine, yes, but with an underlying softness, something sweet and lovely layered beneath it. And Yeojoo can already feel her standoffish nature beginning to crack at Hoseok’s easygoing, gentle demeanor, and it’s simultaneously annoying and exciting.

Hoseok stands up straight, then, and offers his hand to Yeojoo to help her up. She takes it and accepts his help to stand up straight, and then they’re both just standing there looking at each other for a long, peaceful moment. And they still haven’t let go of each other’s hand.

They both seem to realize this at the same moment, and they quickly let go, looking away from each other and brushing it off with soft chuckles, and fine, Yeojoo is blushing again, but Hoseok is blushing even deeper.

They’re silent for a few minutes, and it’s quite awkward, but it’s also kind of thrilling, and they look at each other again, and something passes between them, something calming and sweet. Yeojoo would say it’s like...a mutual understanding, something so deep and profound that even a highly analytical type like her wouldn't be able to explain it. All Yeojoo knows for sure is that she’s suddenly feeling very brave, and she takes a step closer to Hoseok, her lips parting as she’s about to speak.

But the moment is broken by a loud buzzing noise from Hoseok’s pocket. Yeojoo shuts and swallows, befuddled, and Hoseok pulls his phone out of his pocket, clicks on the screen. He frowns, disappointed.

“Ah, I have to get going,” he says, looking up and into Yeojoo’s eyes apologetically. And he looks so sweet and guilty, like he really does feel bad about it, and Yeojoo is overcome with an urge to pinch his cheeks and coo at him like he really is a cute dumb bunny. He rubs the back of his head again with one hand, suddenly shy.

“It was nice to meet you, Yeojoo,” Hoseok says.

“It was nice to meet you too, Hoseok,” Yeojoo replies. And she actually means it.

There’s a pause between them. “Maybe I’ll see you around here again some time?” Hoseok asks.

“Maybe,” Yeojoo says, though she highly doubts it. The thought, brutally honest and harsh, makes her suddenly feel sad. “Good luck with your music,” she says quickly, forcing a small smile and holding her hands behind her back cutely, giving Hoseok a tiny bow.

“Good luck with your research,” Hoseok replies, returning the bow. “Good luck with your...you know...scientific stuff.” He awkwardly waves and Yeojoo giggles, her laughter light and airy like the sweet scent of the flowers all around them.

And Hoseok leaves, walking back up the path to exit the gardens, looking down at his phone screen as he goes, but Yeojoo can tell he’s not really looking at anything on his phone, and that he just needs something to look at so that he doesn’t look back at her. Yeojoo watches him leave until she can’t see him anymore, and not just because she wants to admire the beautiful planes and shapes of his broad, muscular back.

And then, for the first time ever, she feels...lonely in the gardens. She feels sad and lonely, like a single daffodil, all alone with just the flowers around her for company.

Despite their sweet meeting, Yeojoo knows that she probably won’t ever see Hoseok again, and she’s wondering why they even bothered to tell each other their names, why they even bothered to speak to each other. The thing is, the city is a big place, and the odds of their paths ever crossing again are quite low.

As for meeting him again here, well, no matter what Hoseok claimed, Yeojoo knows that nobody is as dedicated to this place as she is. Sure, Hoseok may have come here today once for “inspiration,” but she knows how this all goes, she’s met this exact type before. One week living in the big city, and he’ll be all swept up in the party scene just like everyone else, and he’ll forget all about this special, peaceful place. All boys are the same, all people are the same, really.

Yeojoo sighs bitterly, annoyed at herself for getting caught up in a romantic moment, annoyed at herself for even entertaining the notion that maybe she had finally met a kindred spirit, someone who could understand her, someone worthy of her closely-guarded affection.

After all, Yeojoo is a scientist. She doesn’t believe in fate or love, not really. She believes in logic, in patterns, and in experience, and she knows well from her own experience that this was nothing special, nothing important. For all she knows, Hoseok already has a girlfriend. Someone so handsome like him, of course he does. The thought makes her feel icy-cold even in the late-afternoon sunshine.

Yeojoo vows then to forget all about Hoseok, to act as if nothing happened, and she goes back to her work, to what she came here for in the first place, to find her peace, to find her serenity, and to satisfy her intellectual curiosity. She moves on from the daffodils to a patch of deep purple anemone flowers. She happens to know that they are considered rather depressing flowers, and that they can symbolize forsaken love.

And she shakes her head at that thought, because of course it’s just a stupid coincidence.

She spends the rest of the afternoon traversing through the outdoor gardens until it starts to get dark, though she can’t quite return to the tranquility that she had been feeling before. Instead, she can’t shake this awful, amorphous feeling that she has, and it’s something that she can’t quite identify. She’s always been terrible at understanding her own emotions, and now is no exception. Especially now, when her feelings are so jumbled and mixed that she doesn’t even know where to start with decoding them.

All she knows is that she feels something like regret.

Eventually, the gardens close for the night and she leaves, taking the train back into the city, then walking the handful of blocks back to her tiny studio apartment by the university. And through the whole trip, her mind, normally buzzing with ideas and excited at the prospect of pouring through the day’s research, feels foggy and clouded, muddled in a way that she doesn’t much know how to handle.

That night, she dreams that she’s a princess, and that she meets a handsome prince in a beautiful field of flowers. The prince’s face is blurry, but he’s strong and sweet and romantic. He’s someone who finally understands her, someone with whom she can find true happiness with.

The prince’s face becomes clearer, and it’s Hoseok, and the two of them are laughing in a field of daffodils that they fall into together, the blossoms cheery and inviting in bright yellow and creamy white, packed together in bunches and bunches for what seems like miles and miles in every direction, not a lone daffodil in sight.

A new beginning.

Yeojoo has no memory of the dream when she awakens the next morning. All she’s left with is that same vague feeling that she thinks she may finally understand.

It's longing.