Baekhyun was flat on his back on the sofa. His apartment was tiny but he liked it the way it was. He was a small person. A small apartment suited him. It wasn't much but everything he had he had earned with his art. It was filled with an eclectic collection of his own art and the art of others, mismatched second hand furniture pieces that had caught his eye, and anything else that attracted his eye. Piles of old books were stacked around the house and a huge metal sculpture of an ibis he made in college took pride of place in the living room.

His phone buzzed. It was Jessica and he just rolled his eyes. Their relationships was on the rocks, he knew it for sure, she just didn't realise it yet. Three years ago, when they first started dating, she was proud of her artist boyfriend. She dragged him everywhere, dressed him in her latest designs, incorporated his art into her fashion shows. But since her design house had made it big things had changed. Now all she went on about were material things. This party, that fashion show, who sat with who at Seoul Fashion Week.

He relaxed knowing she wouldn't come to his apartment. She hated the tiny place. She had an inner city apartment, big and modern, decorated with a classic minimalist style. Baekhyun hated it. He felt like he was in a hospital whenever he was there. The final straw had been when Jessica's Dad offered Baekhyun a job at his advertising firm. Jessica wanted him to sell out. He knew he was no longer good enough for her. She had changed and he hadn't.

He got up and made cup ramen. Jessica would be out at a five star restaurant, more interested in being seen than eating, with her crew of girlfriends in tow. He would rather be here with his cup ramen. He could picture them, dressed in variations of the same outfit, whispering and ing to each other. They reminded him of a flock of pigeons, heads bobbing and mouths skwaking at each other.

His mind wandered to the crazy events of the day. He'd had trouble concentrating on his painting after that poor guy had a heart attack. He couldn't stop wondering if he was okay. The hospital was close and he had to assume he made it there okay. He felt awful. He wished there was some way he could find out if he was alright.

The cafe was as neat and welcoming as he remembered. The barista from yesterday recognised him immediately. "Hey. Heart attack guy right?" Chanyeol nodded. "Wasn't a heart attack. I'm fine." He smiled as he ordered his favourite coffee. Hazelnut latte. It was ready in no time, the café wasn't busy, and Chanyeol took out his phone and scrolled through his Instagram while he waited. It was handed to him and the short man behind the counter smiled. "On the house. I would have given you another one yesterday if you hadn't left in an ambulance."

Chanyeol took the coffee and sat in the corner of the café facing the door. So far everything seemed normal. It wasn't the place. It must have been him. He could still remember the man’s gentle face. His sad brown puppy eyes ate away at Chanyeol's conscience. As Chanyeol sipped the coffee he closed his eyes in delight. It was smooth and rich with just the right balance between the bitter coffee and the deliciously sweet syrup.

Chanyeol admired the art on the walls. There were landscapes and sakuras covering one brick wall. He got up and went over to look at them. They were all signed at the bottom with BBH in a rushed looking script which contrasted with the careful delicacy of the details in the paintings.

He turned to sit back down and found the barista standing next to him. "Beautiful aren't they?" Chanyeol smiled. "They sure are. Is the artist a friend of yours?" The barista nodded. "Yeah. He's so talented. He also made you have a heart attack yesterday." Chanyeol turned to him in shock. "That small guy? The tiny walking disaster? He painted these?" The barista nodded and grinned. "Yep. He's a walking contradiction. But his art really speaks for itself." Chanyeol thought about the man on the floor, scooping up his art supplies, looking up at him with the saddest eyes he had ever seen. Guilt panged in his mind and his chest fluttered again.

Flutter

It was faint but it was there. Chanyeol decided he had to take a chance. "Does he come here often? I really just came back today to thank the both of you for helping me yesterday. And I wanted to make sure he didn't feel bad. It was my fault." Chanyeol held his hand out to the barista. "My name's Chanyeol." The barista smiled and shook it. "Minseok. This is my café. And yes, he comes here every day, his name is Baekhyun and he likes to paint the Sakura in the park."

Baekhyun

Chanyeol rolled the name over and over in his mind. It seemed familiar but he couldn't quite work out why. Suddenly he made the almost intangible connection. He pulled his phone out and opened his Instagram. He scrolled through his feed and found the post from yesterday. The beautiful flat lay of the sakura canvas on the grass. The username @bbhart connected all the dots for him. BBH on the canvases. The familiarity of the park. He sank down into a chair and looked thorugh the feed. He had been double tapping the heart on Baekhyun's pictures for a year.

Flutter

His chest made that weird feeling again. It was like the wings of a butterfly trapped in his chest. Like the faint and aimless flailing limbs of someone dreaming but trying to wake up. Like gentle waves just lapping at the bottom of a cliff.

He had to see him.

Minseok had returned to his place behind the counter. It was almost lunchtime and a few customers began to wander in but Chanyeol had never seen a café this empty. He wondered how Minseok managed to make a living. The place was wonderful, the coffee delicious, and the aesthetic of the place was right on trend. He knew how to thank Minseok. He snapped a picture of his coffee cup with the wall of art in the background. He posted it to his Instagram with the caption 'best coffee in the city' and added the location to the post. He smiled to himself. He had 390 thousand followers, surely he could get a few more customers through the door.

Baekhyun was in the park. The day was stunning and he felt good. The paint just seemed to be flowing through him. He finished his Sakura and sat it out to dry. He didn't know if he wanted to start another one but the Sakura season was almost over and he wouldn't have many more opportunities. They could all be on the ground the next time he came.

He laid on his back in the shade and looked up at at the slivers of bright blue sky visible between the petals of the pink Sakura. He reached for his