Jungkook, it’s been a week. Greed sternly reminded Jungkook of a fact that he knew all to well about.

I know it’s been a week. He grumbled, leaning back into the tree behind him.

What’s stopping you from going back? Greed asked, trying to find the right button to push. He figured with all the questions, he’ll find a solution to his own problems.

You. You are stopping me! And don’t act like you aren’t trying to get at something here. We’ve been like this for the past 10 years! Jungkook retorted, really hoping no one ever watched while he had this conversation with Greed. If anyone was watching, then they would for sure take Jungkook to be a crazy weirdo.

You made a promise to go back. It’s not my fault you said yes to that question. Greed answered back.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, ruffling his hair in frustration. Greed had a knack in discovering his true feelings. He really wanted to go back to that garden. It was beautiful and reminded him of his good memories with his mother. He bit his lower lip and stood up on the branch, almost as if to declare something to the world.

“Dammit, I’ll go back but don’t say a thing Greed!” Jungkook yelled.

Greed chuckled, You don’t have to worry about me. It’s all you.

Jungkook jumped down from the tree and slowly walked back to the garden. His heart quickened as he closed in on his destination. From the day he met her, he couldn’t erase the warmth of her smile from his mind.

It had been a while anyone smiled at him like that.

He stepped into the garden and took a look around. His eyes locked onto the girl who was watering the roses. He wanted to be as silent as possible, but his foot accidently stepped on a twig, making a small sound.

Rose jumped and turned around. Immediately, a smile formed on her face. “You’re back! For a second there, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” She approached him and handed him a watering pot. “Here, if you’re going to take flowers from here you might as well work on them.”

He rolled his eyes but took the watering pot from her and reluctantly began doing what she asked of him.

“What’s your favorite flower?” She asked curiously.

“Don’t have one.” He answered coldly, pouring the water over the roses.

She raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure? It seems like you know a lot about flowers…” She replied, but the only response she got out of him was a simple shrug.

“What do you usually do other than like sell flowers?” She asked another question.

“Nothing really.” He answered, once again delivering a less than satisfac