Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

yoongi sighs and looks down at the text he’s gotten. it’s from jimin, who tells him the time and place of his next date, as well as a suggestion to wear something nice and suave. yoongi texts him back to shove it up his ass, and jimin replies saying, if you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t be going through with it.

that’s true.

the truth of it all is that yoongi is inexplicably lonely.

he’s gotten used to living alone, ever since namjoon moved out with his girlfriend. he thought he could survive it - he thought that the newfound silence would be nice and calming, but it only serves to keep him up at night along with the ringing in his ears. he never tells namjoon, unwilling to admit that he misses the other musician’s loud messiness and tendency to stay up until 3am and then knock out with yoongi in their studio.

now his apartment is empty, disheveled, and cold. yoongi cleans it once a week, but that’s all that he can muster up the energy to do. somehow the chaos makes it feel fuller, less spacious, and the last thing he wants is space.

he misses having someone to talk to, as well; namjoon was like his verbal sound board, in lieu of a better phrase, always there to listen to him and then give misplaced advice. yoongi would punch him and then feel better.

jimin piped up one day with the suggestion of a blind date, stating that maybe yoongi should start dating again (he hasn’t gone on a date since his last mess of a relationship with a girl a year younger than him in college - god, he doesn’t even want to think about it) and since he’s twenty seven with no romantic prospects at all since his dad cut him off, yoongi had sighed tiredly and told jimin to go for it.

now he feels stupidly nervous, wondering if he should have made himself up nicer, but then supposes that if he’s going to be dating, he’s not going to be anyone but himself. he dresses in a white shirt and long, black coat, along with a beanie and cut-off blue jeans and boots.

as he’s walking down the road to get to the parking lot where his car is, he comes across a little flower shop and pauses. he does want to make a good impression, no matter how much he tells himself otherwise.  he ends up making the detour with a sigh.

the flower shop’s entrance is like an alcove, with white lattice decked bottom to top with english ivy and green vines. though there are no flowers on the outside - yoongi supposes that those are located in the interior rather than keeping them out in the open - it still looks mystically beautiful, like stepping into another universe belonging in a book or a game. the glass windows looking in show a mess of greenery, and the shop’s name, written in cursive english, is something he can’t read easily.

when yoongi walks in, he’s assaulted by fragile, soothing scents. there are ropes of roses hanging from potted plants, white and yellow jessamine, hibiscus in porcelain longboxes. there are purple irises yoongi thought were only found in mountains and tiger lilies and korean pear blossoms. yoongi has the strangest urge to touch one of the petals with a fingertip, to see if they’re as soft as they look.

“hello!” a voice, young and pleasant, floats from somewhere in the room. “can i help you with anything, sir?”

yoongi jerks away. he comes face to face with who must be the shopkeeper, a boy with dark, ruffled hair, doe eyes, and a pretty smile. he’s wearing an oversized black and white striped sweater that goes past his fingers, black jeans, and boots. there’s piercings in both his ears but he looks sweet in a red apron with white korean lettering and a pair of scissors in his hands.

“yeah,” yoongi starts, feeling awkward. he clears his throat. “i - uh, i’m going on a date tonight, so...anything for that?” he winces, regretting how stupid he sounds.

the boy smiles. “i’m guessing it’s a first date?”

yoongi sighs and nods.

“well,” the boy cocks his head and puts his scissors away in a pocket. he looks around the plants and then brightens, disappearing into the verdant sea. yoongi stands behind, feeling awkward.

he comes back with a couple of flowers in his hands, their stems cut neatly. the boy motions for him to come forward and yoongi does so with halting steps.

he smells soft and fragrant, but yoongi supposes that’s to be expected. being around flora for so long would make for natural perfumes, wouldn’t it? the flowers he’s chosen are small and a delicate shade of pink. they’ve got little fibers in the middle and look fragile to touch; yoongi has no idea how he’ll hold those without breaking them.

“these are apple blossoms,” the boy says. he grabs a bunch of something different from a pot near him, already cut and ready for use. “and these are queen anne’s lace. apple blossom lifts your spirits and makes you happier; they can show promise and new love.” he tucks the two flowers in between each other, somehow magically working his fingers so that the flowers are intertwined in a simple bouquet of white and pink. “it’s nice for a first date. it can be a real conversation starter, too, and it might bring some good luck to you!”

yoongi swallows, nodding in surprise; he’d been so taken by the boy’s fingers, working deftly at wrapping wax paper and clear plastic that he almost missed the explanation.

“ah, thanks,” he scratches the back of his head. “how much?”

the boy rattles off a price and yoongi pays it willingly. he doesn’t know how much flowers are worth, so whatever.

he leaves the shop and heads for his car. the flowers smell sweet, and makes him want to turn on the radio, so he does.

/

the date is a total bust.

he thought it was going to be something a little casual, but jimin’s time and place leads him to a slightly higher end restaurant. his date, one of jimin’s coworkers, looks a little uncomfortable - she's wearing something for the occasion, her earrings glinting and her makeup done carefully - and she definitely takes notice of yoongi’s slightly less than appropriate style of dress.

other than that, they don't get along well. yoongi is naturally quiet and it comes off as indifference, even when inside he feels nervous and a little jumpy. the more she upset she gets at his lack of reaction, the more he doesn't say anything.

eventually, they split ways, yoongi footing the bill as a silent apology for his fuck ups.

he groans and texts jimin an ‘x’ as he’s driving home. she liked the flowers, at least, even if they seemed limp in her hands.

/

“i’m not doing it again,” he grumbles as jimin pulls at his sleeve so he’ll sit down. yoongi’s breathing in a cup of coffee (his second one that day) and jimin is getting on his last nerves this early in the morning.

“c’mon, hyung,” jimin whines. “people go on at least three or four blind dates - everyone knows that going to one is a risk! and besides, you were the one in the wrong! i told you to dress nicely!”

“i did dress nicely,” yoongi snaps. “that was dressing formally. and the answer is still no.”

jimin pouts over his frappucino. yoongi has no idea how he can drink those on a daily basis - they have way too much sugar for even yoongi, and more often than not it’s just ice-cream and whipped cream than actual coffee.

“fine, then,” jimin takes a sip. he looks silly by himself, with his bright orange hair and his beanie, but then yoongi also thinks that they look silly together: orange and blonde in a cafe at twelve am. “but listen, you’re still going to go on another one eventually. you’ll ask me again, hyung, when your pride has healed.”

“stand down, park jimin,” yoongi warns, and flicks a napkin in his face.

/

the next time he goes to the flower shop isn't a conscientious decision. he’s going to visit his mom at her apartment in upper seoul, and as he’s going to his car, the shop catches his eye. it’s gleaming in the sun, light reflecting off the greenery, much different from the way it glittered in the twilight the last time yoongi visited. without thinking about it much, he goes inside.

it’s the same as before, still smelling like a breath of fresh air. behind the counter is the boy from a week ago, bangs clipped back to show a smooth forehead. he’s wearing a large, muted blue sweater this time, one of the sleeves folded up to the elbow. following that hand is a little leather cord on his wrist. his tongue is poking out as he’s preparing a bouquet, absolutely focused on the task at hand.

when the bell rings after he opens the door, the boy looks up. he sees yoongi and gives what the blond imagines is a perfunctory smile, yet it still seems so genuine. “hello! welcome!” he gives a little wave and yoongi walks closer, made comfortable by the hospitality.

the farther in he walks, the more he notices that the boy has a prominent overbite. it makes him look much, much younger when he smiles. “how was your date, sir?”

yoongi blinks, taken aback. “how did you - “

“you’re the apple blossom and lace, right?” the boy nods as if answering his own query. “i don’t forget faces or orders that easily, because every combination is different. i haven’t made that one in a while, so i remembered that a man with blond hair ordered it. second date?”

“nah,” yoongi clears his throat, feeling his ears pink up in embarrassment. he finds himself saying, “it was a blind date, and it didn’t turn out well.”

“oh, i’m sorry,” the boy frowns, looking genuinely upset.

before he can say anything else, yoongi waves it aside. “it’s okay, it’s done and behind me now. i’m actually here to get flowers for my mom; i’m visiting her today, so.”

"alright,” the boy resumes smiling, this time a little more subdued, as if he doesn’t want to offend yoongi by smiling too much. yoongi wouldn't mind; his smile is pretty cute. “do you have any idea what her favorite is?”

“yellow carnations,” he says. his mom had those flowers at her wedding. his dad bought the biggest bouquet he could for her when both he and his older brother were born, to calm her nerves. “just a little bouquet; she won’t want a lot, because then she’ll feel guilty when they die.”

the boy nods and then moves out from behind the counter. “would you like to follow me, sir, so you can pick which carnations you want?”

yoongi blinks. he’s about to say no, to leave the florist to do what yoongi doesn’t know how to do, but what comes out instead is, “i can do that?”

“yeah! i would have offered last time, too, but it seemed like you were in a rush. follow me, please.”

he leads yoongi to a smaller area behind the long hallway of flora from the entrance, where a more greenhouse-like area is; there seems to be hundreds of flowers hanging on the walls, the ceiling, and on the floor; in baskets and in shelves and in tubs. yoongi doesn’t think he’s seen this much green all in one place before.

“there they are, yellow carnations. pick which ones you like - around seven should be good, if you want a small bouquet.”

yoongi picks out the flowers himself, feeling a little silly because they all look the same to him, but the boy gives him an encouraging smile each time he picks one out. yoongi points out the flower he wants by touching the stem of it lightly and then the boy leans forward and cuts it quickly, a little snip followed by gentle fingers putting them in a basket to carry back to the counter.

the florist makes quick work of the bouquet, wrapping it in wax paper and plastic again. yoongi asks him to put on a blue ribbon and he complies, neatly tying it into a bow.

“here you go, sir, have a good day!” the boy says cheerfully. he waves his gardener gloved hands in farewell.

after a pensive moment, yoongi replies: “call me yoongi.”

there’s no -ssi or hyung or ahjussi along with it; only his name. the boy blinks, surprised for half a second, before nodding. “i’m jeon jungkook. nice to meet you, yoongi!” he says yoongi’s name plainly, sounding odd in the midst of his formal speech. jungkook seems to know it too, by the way he hides a smile at how ridiculous it sounds.

yoongi leaves with bright yellow flowers in his hands and some beginning to grow in his heart.

/

yoongi doesn’t think about the cute florist for a long time. he’s swamped in work and the painful sting of loneliness once more, spending his days moping until jimin finally drags him out of his apartment with a scowl. it must be evening, because jimin would still be in school any other time. he’s got his hands full with third-graders for most of the year.

“listen, hyung,” jimin starts, “i’ve set you up with someone else this time - a guy. he’s someone i know from college and he’s really nice, okay? just give him a chance? he likes music, like you, and it’ll be a simple date at a sushi shop or something. just stop being so sad.”

so yoongi agrees and dresses like he usually does for a date. he’s not expected to buy flowers or bring anything along other than himself this time; there’s literally no pretenses, no expectations other than the bare minimum...and yet, yoongi still goes into the flower shop before he has to head to his car.

it’s nearing six pm, the closing time for the shop, so he’s surprised to see jeon jungkook still there. what's even more jarring is the fact that he’s wearing a crown made of roses on his head.

in his hands he’s weaving other crowns, smaller, made of daisies and jasmine and white roses, and then some with cosmos and forget-me-nots. the blues, yellows, and whites are striking; but it’s nothing like the sight of red roses settled across jungkook’s dark hair, making his lashes darker and his features finer. he’s unnecessarily good-looking when all he’s doing is making flower crowns and circlets and humming behind a counter top. the flora around him seem to curve towards him, like he’s the sun nourishing their growth. yoongi swallows and then jungkook, by some miracle, looks up.

he smiles then, and yoongi wonders if his smile looks brighter this time around. “hello, yoongi!” there it is, his name spoken plainly, without any formalities. yoongi finds that he likes the sound of it very much. “what will it be this time?”

for some reason, yoongi feels a little embarrassed to say, “i’m uh, going on another date.”

jungkook’s smile doesn’t fade, but it does seem to dim a little. his movements slow down. “oh? anything in mind, this time?”

“those blue flowers look nice,” yoongi blurts out, wondering if his date would even be okay with pink or white. some guys are really sensitive to that sort of thing, though yoongi finds the idea of gendering colors ridiculous.

jungkook looks pretty in red, at the very least, and why do colors need genders anyway?

“they’re forget-me-nots,” jungkook hums. he has a very nice voice, yoongi notices vaguely. “they mean just as they say; to always remember. wanting to make an impression, yoongi?”

“yeah, you could say that,” yoongi replies, and then is enraptured once more with jungkook working. he doesn’t know why he’s so interested - it’s literally just a boy wrapping up flowers into a bundle, but it’s so enchanting to see the colors and scents come together in a pretty package. jungkook also performs his work with utmost care, showing that he really does have a passion for what he’s doing. it’s not just some side job or leftover business from his parents; he loves bringing together beauty and handing it to everyone he meets.

“what are those for?” yoongi finds himself asking, nodding to the pile of finished flower crowns on the side.

“these?” jungkook pulls at the petals of the forget-me-nots gently, bringing them into place. “these are for a friend; he’s a teacher at the elementary school nearby, the one with the playground? and he’s giving them to his students in celebration of spring. i think they might be doing a performance, too.” he pats the crown on his head. “this one is for the teacher himself.”

“the elementary school?” yoongi raises an eyebrow. “does he teach third grade?”

“no, second,” jungkook blinks up at him. “kim taehyung? do you know him?”

the name is not familiar. “i’m afraid not, but i know the third-grade teacher - “

“park jimin?” jungkook looks just as surprised as yoongi. “wow, what a small world - i only met him once, but tae-hyung talks about him often.”

yoongi tries not to get tripped up over the way jungkook says hyung, because he inadvertently remembers how he says yoongi. “all bad things, i hope.”

jungkook laughs, and yoongi swallows - his laugh is something small and hidden. jungkook clears his throat afterward, as if embarrassed by his giggle-like laughter. after a moment he hands over the bouquet, fixing the crown on his head as soon as yoongi takes it. he names a price and yoongi gives him a little bit more than that, telling him to keep the change.

he’s out the door before jungkook can protest, heart thumping as he’s getting in his car. he looks at the flowers in his passenger seat, remembers the date he’s going to now, and envisions jungkook’s smile.

yoongi groans and hits his head against the steering wheel.

/

the guy is nice and good-looking enough, but yoongi is still reeling with the image of jungkook in his mind. he hasn’t had a crush in ages; it’s taking over his senses up to the point where all the can think about, even when his date smiles at him appreciatively for the flowers, is what kind of bouquet jungkook would like.

he pushes him out of his mind (or at least tries to) for the date, because it’s unfair to jimin’s college buddy. his date is nice - he’s kind and open-hearted and he doesn’t mind yoongi’s blond hair (but neither did jungkook).

they have a good time, surprisingly, but yoongi doesn’t feel that spark. maybe he would have, if he hadn’t been taken with someone else first.

but the one thing that yoongi definitely likes about his date is that he’s honest. he suddenly drops his chopsticks in the middle of their dinner and sighs, rubbing at his face before admitting, “you’re a really nice guy, yoongi-ssi, but i...i’m kind of hung up over someone else, and i think you are too. jimin thought this was a good way to get me over him because he’s a straight guy, but...” his date shrugs. he looks down at his hands, embarrassed. “i guess i can’t. i like you though, just not that way. can we stay friends?”

yoongi rubs at the back of his neck before saying, “friends it is.” his date beams at him and they spend the rest of the night in good company. yoongi trades numbers with him and while he’s driving home, he wonders what the hell he’s going to do now.

/

the answer is: buy more flowers.

except that he doesn’t know what to do, exactly, with all those flowers. he hasn’t gone back since his second blind date, which he told jimin went amazingly well (just not the way the orange-haired man hoped it would go) and jimin’s laid off on him because of it. yoongi wants to visit the shop but he’s only been there three times; wouldn’t that be weird, or creepy? would jungkook think he’s weird or creepy? probably.

he assumes that it’s jungkook’s store, and thinks that he’ll just use the excuse of getting flowers for his mom again.

jungkook is there, humming while making corsages. yoongi notices that he also makes arrangements, garlands, and does events like weddings and parties - they’re all listed on a tiny chalkboard hanging behind him.

when jungkook sees him, he brightens. “hello, yoongi!”

yoongi smiles out of his own accord. “hi.”

“how was the date?”

“it was better than the last one,” yoongi says, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “but we agreed to stay friends. he was in love with someone else.”

“you have some awful luck in love, huh,” jungkook frowns, looking like he feels genuinely bad for yoongi’s lack of success in dating.

it makes yoongi want to smile. he finds himself being more truthful than he ever has been when he says, “i mean, i’m kind of lonely sometimes, but it’s alright. i’ll wait for the right person to come by.”

something seems to happen between them; jungkook looks up and it’s almost like he sees right through him, through his coat and his guarded heart and straight into yoongi’s soul. but then jungkook laughs, and it breaks that silent, almost awkward moment. “what a romantic thought. i didn’t peg you for a romantic,” he says.

the word ‘romantic’ coming from jungkook’s mouth is a little too much to handle suddenly, so yoongi blurts, “i’m getting flowers for my mom again,” before he can say something stupid. “something different...what would you recommend?”

“oh, well,” jungkook sets aside the corsages and gets up. he shakes his head, where a couple of petals have found their way in between the strands. yoongi wonders what his thick hair would feel like in between his fingers. “my recent favorite has been hibiscus. yellow and red hibiscus. they’re really beautiful, and grow so calmly,” he explains. “how about a bouquet of those?”

“sounds good,” yoongi fiddles with his phone, somehow building the courage to say, “what’s your absolute favorite flower, then?”

“hm?” jungkook gives him a slightly blank look, before laughing and tugging at the glinting silver hoops in his ears. “asking a florist his favorite flower? that’s like asking a parent who their favorite child is.”

“not if the parent only has one kid,” yoongi points out.

“touché,” jungkook nods. “for me, it’s like having twenty; there’s so many flowers that i like, and so many that have many different meanings and expressions. it’s difficult to choose just one.”

“meanings and expressions?” yoongi echoes. “flowers do?”

“oh yeah,” jungkook uses wax paper to cover up the bouquet he has at current. “flowers have significance in nearly everything. they’re used in art, literature, medicine, history...so much symbolism is put into certain flowers and has been ever since ancient times. countries have national flowers that represent the ideals they want to portray. in fact, do you know why south korea’s national flower is the hibiscus?”

yoongi didn’t even know they had a national flower. he’s immediately taken with how jungkook starts babbling as he gets excited, the words coming out faster with a hint of a somewhat familiar accent rather than the standard seoul. “no, why?”

“the word mugunghwa has ‘eternity’ or ‘abundance’ in it: mugung. we use it to say that the country will continue on in it’s plentiful state. it’s known as a stubborn flower and in the past, people used it to brew into herbal tea. they do that for most flowers, actually; if you go to a tea shop down the street and to the left, they sell a lot of those herbal teas. their quality is great, too.”

when he’s done with the packaging he immediately hands it over to yoongi. there’s a pile of corsages on his left, presumably waiting to be picked out and prepared.

yoongi takes the flowers and finds that he doesn’t really want to stop talking to jungkook. now, yoongi isn’t all that interested in flowers and gardening - honestly, he’s always seen it as something the ahjummas in his hometown did, and there’s certainly no fresh flora in seoul (if you discount the weeds in the cracks of the pavement) - but when jungkook talks about it with such fervency and interest, it sort of makes yoongi a little interested, too.

“an herbal tea shop? do they sell anything for stress?”

“ginseng and chamomile are pretty well-known for stress,” jungkook divulges. “are you alright, yoongi?”

the sound of his name once again jars yoongi out of his hazy, tired state; it’s just so odd to hear his name without anything else added to it, not a hyung or a -ssi in sight. still, he finds it different and, to his great embarrassment, nice.

“i’m fine,” he replies, finally. “just a little tired. work has been cracking down on me pretty hard lately.”

for a moment, jungkook looks a little hesitant, but he eventually asks, “do you have to be over at your mother’s right right now?”

“what?” yoongi almost forgets the ‘reason’ why he’s here in the first place, but catches on at the last second. he clears his throat and shakes his head. “i guess not, no, not really.”

“well, i don’t usually do this, but - “ here, jungkook opens the moving door from behind the counter and steps out, quickly pulling over a high chair from somewhere hidden beneath a multitude of vines and leaves. he pats the white stool and sits back in his own stool behind the counter. “ - sit. you look like you’re about to drop on your feet.”

yoongi’s at a standstill; he doesn’t know what to do - go, and continue having shallow, pointless little conversations with the florist, or stay and see what happens? he’s screwed either way, so yoongi sets aside the bouquet given to him and makes himself comfortable. jungkook asks him to be patient for a minute or two, and then comes back downstairs with a portable stove and kettle.

he plugs it in somewhere behind him and the singular stove begins to heat. the kettle, yoongi notices, is already filled with water, and jungkook reaches up to get a tin of something exotic from a shelf near him.

he procures a teapot from another shelf, hidden from view by a hanging potted plant. they all look old but well-used, like antiques. jungkook sets the tin box and the pot on the table and opens it; a peculiar scent hits yoongi’s nose and he leans forward to see small, shriveled yellow and white flowers in the tin.

“it’s chrysanthemum,” jungkook offers helpfully. “i’m going to make you a cup.”

“oh, you - you don’t have to,” yoongi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly - he doesn’t know how to say that he’s not a big tea drinker, but jungkook’s already got the boiling water and he’s spooning flowers into the teapot and he’s gotten out two wooden cups and he looks so earnest that yoongi doesn’t do anything but eek out a small, “thanks.” jungkook waves away his politeness.

“i could use a cup myself, so i thought, why not? plus, you really do look tired, yoongi.”

“my mom would kill me if she saw me like this, huh?” yoongi jokes. he rubs at his eyes. “aah. sorry.”

“what’re you sorry for?”

“for troubling you,” he says.

jungkook smooths his hands over the teapot, a china-white one with pictures of blue blossoms on the bottom. he hands one cup to yoongi and then keeps one cup to himself. pulling up his sleeves, he takes the kettle from the stove - water perfectly boiled - and pours it in the teapot.

“give it a couple of minutes for it to seep,” jungkook closes the lid. “i’ll decant it after so it’s not too strong.”

“it’s not a problem, i don’t mind stronger drinks. i take my coffee black nearly all of the time.”

“coffee isn’t good for you, yoongi,” jungkook reprimands lightly. “it has too much caffeine, and you’re so young, it’s bad for your health! it’ll keep you awake and make you nervous and jittery. too much caffeine is never a good thing.”

“doesn’t tea have caffeine, too?” yoongi points out. he’s heard this same spiel from seokjin, but seokjin’s berating has always annoyed him much more. with jungkook, he can’t seem to find it in him to be annoyed.

“some do, but not all. this is one of them. i was introduced to this tea by the nice hyung over at the tea shop - he’s taiwanese. ask for mark and tell him i sent you if you decide to visit, okay? he’ll give you a discount for sure.”

“i’ve gotta see if it’s good, first,” yoongi says amiably. jungkook goes through the process of decanting tea while yoongi watches. he looks calm, graceful. the tea is a beautiful dark golden color, sitting in his wooden cup. steam rises from the edges.

“i could put some of the flowers in, if you want a stronger taste,” jungkook takes out a flower from the teapot himself and settles it into his cup. it looks pretty, like the kind of tea you get at vegetarian restaurants. “i like mine stronger. it helps me focus.”

enthralled, yoongi watches as jungkook blows on the top of his cup before sipping. he smiles afterward and motions for yoongi to do the same.

“i feel like i should be doing this like a king on a historical drama,” he notes, and jungkook laughs and moves to clean up the kettle and stove.

yoongi follows cautiously and blows on the top of his cup. when it’s not steaming as much, he takes a sip.

to his utter and unfailing surprise, he finds that he likes it. it’s not too bitter - actually, it’s kind of sweet, and it’s hot down his throat, warming him from the inside out. it also leaves a nice aftertaste in his mouth.

jungkook is watching his face carefully while he’s drinking, and knowingly smiles when yoongi takes another sip. “nice, huh?”

“yeah,” yoongi clears his throat again when he hears his voice register at a lower octave than normal. “wow, i might take you up on buying these.”

“the ones i mentioned before are better for stress. this one is good if you’re ever sick with the flu, though. you should ask mark-hyung for more information.” jungkook fingers one of the corsages, left to the side, unfinished. “it’s not good to be so stressed when you’re so young.”

yoongi moves his finger around the ring of his cup. somewhere in the greenhouse, the sound of wind chimes lull through the air. “i bet you’re younger than i am, though.”

“i’m twenty two,” jungkook informs him. “turning twenty three in september.”

“i just turned twenty-seven, so i’m your hyung,” yoongi confirms. he stretches a little and feels his back cracking. he winces. “god, i feel old now. sitting all day doesn’t do me any good.”

“what do you do?” jungkook asks, leaning against the counter. he looks so untroubled. the stillness of the store, the sound of wind chimes, the slow blink of jungkook’s eyelids make yoongi feel like he’s in a different world where time has stopped all together. perhaps it’s because of this lethargic air, or perhaps it’s because of the tea in his system that he finds himself relaxing and leaning against the wall near him. next to the chalkboard is a door leading upstairs, probably to where jungkook lives.

“i’m a music professor. i teach at s university in the music department - i have a bunch of different classes, usually for people looking for their masters and their bachelors.”

“really? that’s so interesting! much better than just a,” and here, jungkook scrunches his nose, to add emphasis, “a lame florist.”

“hey, hey, no,” protests yoongi. “look here, i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve made me the most relaxed i’ve been in three months. maybe even more. this place is so...” he gives the store and it’s spaciousness an appreciative glance. “it’s so colorful and beautiful. growing something is difficult, and you’ve certainly got a green thumb and a warm soul to be able to keep all these flowers alive.”

that, somehow, makes a small smile form on jungkook’s face. the corners of his lips turn up and his eyes curve into happy crescent moons.

“not everything is grown here,” he informs yoongi, voice lowering into a hush. “i mean, the greenhouse part - i grow all of those, yeah, but some of the flowers and vines, i order from other places. the upkeep of plants are expensive.”

“i can only imagine.” and he really only can - yoongi has an awful tendency to kill green things. it’s ironic that fate has him tripping over a florist, it really is.

“you know,” jungkook begins again, fiddling with his thumbs curled around his cup. his voice is quieter, and he’s looking down at his tea. “you know, i always wanted to go into music. i love singing.”

“really?” it doesn’t seem like idea that’s too far off for yoongi to imagine. the few times he’s been here, jungkook is always humming. he wants to ask why he didn’t pursue that, but something in the way jungkook looks down at his hands prevents him from asking.

“yeah,” he confided. “i...i didn’t have enough money to go to college, and even though i got a scholarship...it didn’t last me long. i eventually took off time to work, and then i never returned.” he pauses. “sometimes i wonder...i wonder what would have happened if i did. go back, that is. i’ve liked learning about plants since i was little, and i used to help my mom in our garden in busan. i sang to them everyday, thinking that they would grow bigger if i did.”

“i bet they do,” yoongi says unthinkingly, flushing right after. that came out too warm for his tastes. to cover it, he hides his mouth with another sip of tea.

jungkook’s either ignoring his little slip, or he hasn’t noticed it, because all he does is bite his lip and keep going. “i love the life i have now, but sometimes i just - still wonder, you know?”

“i do,” yoongi thinks back to all the decisions he’s made. his father. the underground. the stage. “but i think...i think there’s no use dwelling on it for too long. thinking about the past can make you forget all that you can have in the future.”

a breeze filters in through the store. there are windows open, yoongi realizes; he’s never seen the windows open, mostly because he’s never really looked up. it’s a nice, soft breeze, like a caress of fingers on his cheeks.

“you’re much wiser than you seem to give yourself credit for, yoongi-hyung,” jungkook says, and yoongi internally balks at the honorific. he can’t say he’s too disappointed to hear it, though.

“no, it’s just...” he makes motions with his hands, as if that’ll help any. “just some bull i think about from time to time, i guess. when i don’t have anything to do or when work becomes overwhelming.”

“well,” and here, jungkook covers the tin box of chrysanthemum flowers and slowly slides it over to yoongi, “you’re always welcome here. i don’t get repeat customers often. take these; i can always get more.”

yoongi’s held up, suddenly, by the way jungkook seems so sincerely happy to talk to him. i don’t get repeat customers often. how many people take time out of their day to go to a flower shop? how many stick around?

he looks down at the tin and at jungkook’s long fingers, before setting his hand on top of it and pushing it back in his direction. “i’m afraid i don’t know how to brew tea all at all,” he begins. “i think i’d rather prefer you making it instead.”

it takes a moment, but then jungkook blinks and nods. he takes the tin back and returns it to his shelf. yoongi’s cup is done and he feels content.

“you shouldn’t keep your mom waiting,” jungkook says suddenly, brushing aside a fallen petal from the counter top and nodding to the blue bouquet. “if you leave forget-me-nots by themselves, you’ll eventually forget about them.”

yoongi gives a little wave and a nod. as he leaves, he sees jungkook return to his corsage making, a lone person in a house made of glass and flowers. he really does visit his mom again, interrupting her weekly meeting with a couple of other ahjummas in the neighborhood; she’s delighted to see him and loves the flowers. the ahjummas twitter about how filial of a son he is.

he breathes in and out, and it smells like spring.

/

“you seem happier lately, hyung,” jimin notes, one day when yoongi is over at his place for dinner. seokjin is there too, fiddling around in the kitchen, and namjoon is on the side texting someone. jimin’s got nothing else to do except bother yoongi. “is it wonsoo?”

yoongi’s second blind date. “he’s a good friend,” yoongi says. “he’s still not over that guy from his work. the straight one.”

jimin sighs. he looks disappointed. “i should have known. sorry, hyung, i really thought that it would turn out well.”

yoongi smiles. it’s a little awkward on his face, because he feels like he hasn’t smiled so much in ages. recently, his facial muscles have been getting a workout. he puts a hand on jimin’s head and his voice is gentle when he says, “don’t worry about it, okay? i’m fine, right now. i’m fine.” and he means it.

jimin blinks and nods. he touches his head where yoongi patted it, looking after the man as he walks to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

if wonsoo is not what’s making yoongi happy, what is? he wonders to himself. then he decides that he'll learn in time.

/

“this is a green tea blend,” jungkook tells him as he’s pouring the tea into yoongi’s cup. the sleeves of his still too-large sweater fall over his fingers. before yoongi does something stupid, like push them up his arms himself, jungkook sets the teapot down. “it helps with anxiety and stress, too.”

“i liked the lavender tea,” yoongi admits. “i’ve never been too fond of green tea. unless it’s mochi. other than that, i tried this green tea latte because jimin bought it for me and it tasted awful.”

that makes jungkook laugh. “try this one, you might like it. i put some honey in it, too.”

jungkook’s flower of the day is a batch of freshly cut and pruned red roses. they’ve been popular lately, especially because it’s around white day. yoongi can’t get the image of roses nestled in jungkook's hair out of his head, even though he never sees jungkook wear a flower crown again. he still makes them - more than once, yoongi has seen him loop together swathes of daffodils and bluebells with leaves and twisting twigs until they became something ethereal.

he’s decided to put tea candles in mason jars and settle them around the place. “for good luck,” he claims, tying a talisman from the nearest temple to them. yoongi’s come by often enough that he now has his own delegated chair and teacup. jungkook knows how he likes his tea and his favorite flower (hibiscus, the first flower jungkook ever told him about, because it reminds him of jungkook’s steadfastness and reliability - eternity. he never tells jungkook this, of course) and yoongi knows that jungkook lives upstairs and spends his days taking care of his shop, singing, dancing, eating, and sleeping. there’s a bird feed on his window and he gets birds, sometimes. yoongi has yet to see them, but he hears them chirping all the time.

“i’ve got a big project today, and next week,” jungkook informs him while checking off something on his list. “in two months, there’s going to be a wedding, and the groom got his flowers here the first time he met with his soon-to-be wife. so they’re going to get their wedding flowers from here.”

yoongi sips from his cup. “do you remember his order?”

“mhm,” jungkook taps a nimble finger on a rose petal. “white roses, with a pink tinge at the very end. it was a marriage meeting but i don’t think i’ve ever seen him so nervous - he told me that all his meetings before went wrong until he came here and bought a bouquet for his date. he accidentally spilled coffee on himself and the girl ended up getting cake in her hair. they both fell in love over their shared clumsiness.” he gives a fond smile. “it’s one of my favorite stories. it happened two years ago, and he came back the very next day to thank me. as if i had done anything.”

the wind chimes sound. yoongi thinks that sometimes, jungkook sounds like those chimes too. like a whisper of the wind. “i think you may have,” he refutes. “there’s something magical about this place, for sure.” he doesn’t say that it’s the florist himself, breathing a soul into the life he touches.

“i don’t think i’m magical,” jungkook scoffs, and yoongi wants to show him - so badly - how wrong he is.

but the thing in between them feels new, feels fragile. yoongi’s insecure. he doesn’t know what to do, a lamb in a flock of sheep, bumbling his way through the motions. he doesn’t know how jungkook feels unless the younger actively tells him; he’s like a mirage that yoongi can’t seem to crack, yet, he’s like the feeling of water rushing through the sea. calming. steady. like a pulse.

yoongi does nothing for now.

“your tea is magical, for sure,” he says instead. “i think i’ve been converted.”

jungkook pours him another cup. “good! you should stop drinking so much coffee. it may smell nice, but it’s not good for your body in large amounts.” and while he continues to babble on the benefits and consequences of drinking so much caffeine, yoongi can’t help but look at him and smile. warmth blooms in his chest like a pattern of dandelions, crawling across the pit of his stomach, floating their way up to his ribs.

jungkook wears oversized sweaters and shirts all the time, as if trying to make himself smaller in a big world. he creates his own world and draws everyone in each and every time. at night, he glows in the setting sun, eyes as dark as the sky, smile a white beacon. he’s the stars, a personification of the world turning on its axis. him and his little shop stand against the current of time, it seems, halted in an amber case of golden light and splendid suns.

“what’s this,” he asks one day, pointing to the a vine of flowers growing up the lattice. before, they were just greenery.

“moonflowers. they open at dusk and close in the middle of the day. the come in blue and pink, too.”

“the white ones are beautiful,” he comments, noting the closed white bud. “they look shy.”

“moonflowers represent mystery and intrigue, just like the moon itself.” after he’s done scribbling down needs to be one in his book, jungkook leans back and stretches. his back cracks, and he makes a satisfied little sound. “ah, i needed that.”

“you should make a crown with those,” yoongi continues, motioning to the moonflowers.

“those? they’re so delicate, i’m afraid they’d break,” he chuckles. all is quiet for a moment. “my mom, she used to love moonflowers.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he sighs. “she’d press the most beautiful ones in a journal of hers and keep them in her room. in the winter, when all the flowers were sleeping, she’d open the books and trace all of them, one by one. my hyung wasn’t so interested and looking at flowers, but i always thought she looked so otherworldly when she did it. like she was a creature from another planet, homesick for even a sense of familiarity in a place that wasn’t her own.”

when yoongi swallows his tea, it feels thick down his throat. jungkook picks a moonflower off of the vine and sets it in the shade.

from the sudden oppressive silence, or the need to just say anything, he doesn’t know, yoongi coughs. “you know, you’re kind of the same.”

jungkook blinks, confused. “what? homesick?”

“otherworldly,” he corrects quietly.

/

it’s bound to happen once - jungkook and yoongi stay late in the shop, talking about senseless things, when jungkook’s stomach rumbles. there’s been a surprising amount of customers that day, from what yoongi could see from his single hour of being there.

it’s only when it’s nearing sunset does jungkook’s lean back against the wall and sigh. he pats his forehead in a form of hwaiting and yoongi snickers, finding the action cute.

then, the sound of rumbling so loud it could be mistaken for an engine fills the room.

yoongi jerks. “is that an earthquake or something?”

jungkook flushes, “no, hyung - that’s my stomach.”

unbidden, yoongi’s eyes trail down to where jungkook is holding a hand to his tummy. the shape is hidden by his sweater, today a fuzzy white one with wide sleeves and black triangles on the bottom hem. “i didn’t eat since breakfast - i had to skip lunch to talk to the wedding planner about the flower settings.”

“you should have gotten at least something from the convenience store,” yoongi scolds. he puts his jacket on almost by habit and hops out of his stool. “c’mon.”

with a bewildered stare, jungkook stutters, “w-where?”

“to get dinner,” yoongi ascertains. “c’mon. it’s not that cold outside, but will you be okay?”

“oh, y-yeah,” jungkook snaps out of his odd daze. “but, uh, hyung - you really don’t have to.”

“c’mon, you make tea for me nearly every week, you must be spending so much of ‘em,” yoongi reminds him gently. “let me get you dinner for a day. fair trade. take that apron off, i’m waiting.”

jungkook doesn’t start an argument, mostly because yoongi’s tone bridges for none, stuffing his phone and keys into his pockets. he steps out from behind the counter and stands there on the ready, waiting for yoongi to do something.

yoongi’s eyes move away from the shape of jungkook’s legs. he clears his throat and says, “where do you want to go?”

they go for street food and then mandu, both fried and steamed. jungkook prefers the steamed while yoongi likes the fried king size ones, stuffing them into his mouth in one go while jungkook watches with eyes the size of dinner plates.

“i didn’t think it was possible for a human being to do that,” he gasps, watching in half-awe, half-disgust as yoongi chews it and swallows in one shot.

“i have other talents than music,” yoongi adds, waggling his eyebrows in a moment of extreme dorkiness. jungkook bursts out into laughter, causing the other customers to turn around and watch them, but finds that he doesn’t care at all. something about jungkook, about being around him and just talking to him makes yoongi feel like he’s seventeen and on top of the world.

“last piece,” jungkook comments, as they look down at the lone dumpling left.

“rock paper scissors?” yoongi suggests.

he thinks jungkook is about to agree, and following that would be an epic ‘best fifteen out of twenty’ sort of match, but instead jungkook just gives him a look - eyes made wider on purpose, bottom lip stuck out in a pout, fingers drumming on the edge of the table in a sweet little melody. with a purposefully innocent tone, jungkook asks, “can i have it, hyung? please?”

and yoongi’s brain just sort of - stops working. while he’s staring at jungkook wide eyed with his heart beating all the way up to his ears, jungkook happily steals the last dumpling and shoves half of it into his mouth. his cheeks swell up like a chipmunk’s and he goes on, knowing exactly what he’s just done.

“guess you’re weak for aegyo, huh, hyung?” he states cheerfully.

the ahjussi next to him, who’s been nursing a soju bottle and eating with his friend this entire time, snorts and shakes his head. when yoongi catches his eye, he says sympathetically, “the pretty ones always get the best of you. keep your guard up, kid.”

“i’m - “ yoongi can’t even form words yet. wait, wait, this is going to take a minute, “ - yah, jeon jungkook.”

“it was your treat, hyung,” he says, mouth still stuffed. “thank you for the meal!”

the pretty ones always get the best of you, yoongi thinks to himself fondly.

“that was so good,” jungkook sighs, patting his tummy. yoongi wants to do the same, just reach out and put an arm around jungkook’s shoulders and bring him in close. he looks far too skinny. “hyung, buy me more food some other day, please.”

“wow, one night and you completely change, huh?” yoongi jokes, feeling brave and pinching jungkook’s cheek.

“no, it’s just that now i know you have knowledge of all the good food spots. i’m going to take advantage of it, okay?”

“alright,” yoongi doesn’t mind at all. “what’s your favorite food then?”

jungkook thinks on it for a moment. “pizza! i like pizza the best. the big ones, with the fluffy crusts and lots of cheese.”

“sounds disgustingly unhealthy,” yoongi says approvingly. “i like it. we’ll go out for pizza one day. honestly, if you said something like vegetarian stew, i would have had to stop talking to you, kiddo.”

“why? veggie stew is good!”

“yeah, but it can’t be your favorite,” yoongi acts affronted. “you need something greasy and awful and fattening as your favorite food, obviously, so you can eat it whenever you feel bad. greasy food always makes you feel better.”

they’re walking down the streets of seoul, arms pressed close against each other. jungkook lets out a tiny giggle. “you would know, hyung?”

“i would, thank you very much.” jungkook’s breezy laughter and his close warmth makes yoongi brave. he tweaks jungkook’s nose and watches him reach up to cup his face, shielding it from yoongi’s adoring hands.

he walks jungkook back to the shop. it’s night time now, and even though the city never sleeps, when yoongi sends jungkook home, there’s a sense of ease in the air, as if jungkook has suddenly brought them both to a halt. he waves with all his fingers and disappears into the shop, wind chimes chiming in the ghost of a memory in yoongi’s ears. the door closes behind him and it seems ephemeral. there’ll be another day.

/

“hmm, hold still,” jungkook says. he’s focusing on getting the measurements right for another order of flower crowns - this time, he says, by park jimin’s class - and yoongi is sullenly acting as his measurement standard.

he won’t admit that he likes the feeling of jungkook’s hands in his hair, of course.

he’s staring into the street and sighing internally, when he notices the little cards and such around the place. he’s been going here for so long, and yet he’s never even learned what the place is called.

“jungkook,” he says, and he likes the way his name rolls across his tongue. like it’s a poem. jungkook hums in response.

“what’s the name of this place, anyway?”

“you’ve been coming here for so long, yoongi-hyung, how could you possibly not know?”

“just tell me,” yoongi grumbles.

he can practically imagine jungkook’s indulgent smile. “it’s called the garden of eden. like the garden of god, up in the heavens.”

“like paradise?” yoongi asks, to clarify.

“yeah,” jungkook’s hands disappear from his hair, but yoongi can still feel his presence at his back. “like my own piece of paradise.”

/

one day, after classes, yoongi comes to the shop with a guitar on his back. jungkook is making crowns again, this time for a little girl’s birthday party. her mom asked for a couple specific ones, and then anything and everything for the rest.

“give me any color,” jungkook asks him, working on the circlet in his hands by finishing up the ridged leaves and their setting. “it cannot be blue, though.”

“red?” he suggests.

“you always say red,” jungkook mumbles, huffing. “choose another color.”

“i like red,” yoongi shrugs.

“yes, but they’re little kids, i want something nice and soft for them.”

“pink? pink is soft, right?” yoongi thinks about the flush that steals across jungkook’s cheekbones, the tips of his ears, the dip of his collarbones. yoongi likes pink too.

“i guess,” he gives a half frown. “maybe yellow? buttercups! i’ll do buttercups, they even sound nice.”

“what was i here for, then?” yoongi grumbles.

jungkook grins. “support.”

his fingers get to working on the flowers. yoongi sets his guitar case and puts it on the side. he leans down against the side of the counter. “so, what is it for today?”

the look jungkook sends him is mischievous. he reaches behind him and puts a familiar, tall cup of tea in front of him. yoongi stares at the light brown liquid and the dark, round little balls at the bottom of the cup.

“bubble tea?” he sputters.

“mhm,” jungkook takes his, which is pink-colored and pushes the regular one to yoongi. “i like the strawberry one. i was passing it by today on the street and it’s from the ahjussi i really like, the one who gets daisies for his wife, so he gave me my favorite and then one regular for free.”

it seems as though jungkook has a propensity for getting free things. ice-cream, clothes, flowers from other people on the street, cds, and so on. it’s like everyone is magnetically drawn to him.

“i don’t...” yoongi sighs. “i don’t really drink bubble tea all that much.”

jungkook takes a sip of his own, stealing a tapioca ball. yoongi watches, feeling hot at the sight of jungkook’s cheeks hollowed in. he pulls back and smacks his lips. “c’mon, hyung, it isn’t bad! promise. mine is sweeter.”

“of course yours is, you eat sugar plain,” yoongi says incredulously, ignoring jungkook when he sticks his tongue out at him. he takes his own bubble tea and tries not to think about how jungkook’s mouth was on the same straw just seconds before.

as he leans over, jungkook catches sight of his guitar case. he brightens; the sun is shining on his face. his eyes are brown like the earth after it rains. “yoongi-hyung, play me something on the guitar! i want to listen to your music!”

yoongi pauses. “fine then, you can,” he begins evenly, “but only on one condition - if you sing.”

jungkook takes pause at that. he shrinks back into himself, and yoongi almost regrets it, if it weren’t for the almost hopeful look in his eyes. “ah, hyung,” he says shyly, “i haven’t sung in a while, i don’t know if i’m any good, or if we even know the same songs...”

“i’ll play popular songs,” yoongi assures. he’s not lying either - he honestly plans on playing some pop song that’s all the rave at the moment, seen all over variety shows and music banks, but then a curious little image pops into his head. he remembers one of the songs on jungkook’s phone he had played with his headphones firmly stuck in his ears, humming lowly underneath his breath when he thought yoongi didn’t notice. he often forgets yoongi is there, when it comes to music.

he remembers looking up that song and being impressed with jungkook’s taste in music. tasteful, slow, with syrupy beats and the central theme of wanting to take off. he liked that song so much that he learnt it in it's entirety.

slowly, now, he plays the first chords of it. he looks at jungkook and he spies when the realization filters through his mind.

yoongi gets through the first chords, leaning against the counter of the little flower shop that brings life to a dead city, imploring a boy with life in his blood to start singing to help the flora grow. he strums and strums and strums, giving a low background beat with his own voice. he’s not good at singing, but he’s good at music.

jungkook shuffles closer to him, close enough that if the counter wasn’t between them, they could have been leaning against each other. the scent of sweetness and vitality hangs in the strands of his hair and in the lines of his palms.

slowly, jungkook begins to sing, from the first verse to the chorus to the bridge. his singing is like his speaking voice; lilted, smooth, dreamy. he himself is a dream, tapping against the marble surface of his counter and putting flowers in yoongi’s tea. he doesn’t look at yoongi’s guitar while he’s singing, he doesn’t look at the sky or at the ground or at his fingers. he looks at yoongi. yoongi doesn’t look away either.

he never realized how much more than cute jungkook was. sure, he’s got that lovable little smile and he’s got that endearing nose, but he’s always been just that - cute. jungkook staring at him now - open, vulnerable, like yoongi can see into the very depths of who he is and what grows in his heart - jungkook staring at him now is beautiful.

he’s not beautiful like the nature around them; it’s not an aesthetic beauty that yoongi notices. he’s beautiful in his happiness, in his naivety, in his wit, in his willingness to reach out to yoongi and never let go. he’s beautiful because he makes tea for yoongi and distracts him when he doesn’t need distracting and talks about the story of roses and lets yoongi be yoongi; he’s beautiful because yoongi loves him, and nothing else can be more alluring.

when the song strums away, it echoes in the the walls of the greenhouse. jungkook’s eyes flicker down and away, and he looks like something has caught him by the throat.

“it’s a shame you never went back,” yoongi says.

“yeah?” jungkook asks, looking down at his fingers. yoongi wonders if anyone has ever seen the boy in the flowers before. he wonders if they’d all been so preoccupied with the pretty jasmine and jade that they oversaw the real treasure in between it all.

“yeah,” gently, he taps on the back of jungkook’s hand. he wants to kiss him, but he doesn’t. “my dad - when he learned i wanted to do music, he threw me out of the house.”

this makes jungkook look up at him, eyes wide. odd; his irises have the sweetest flecks of brown in them. how had yoongi never noticed? “i’m sorry,” he frowns, putting his hand on top of yoongi’s in a show of sympathy, or empathy.

“don’t be,” he says, and it’s an echo of what he’s told everyone for so many years. “how could that possibly be, in any way, your fault? you didn’t do anything. you weren’t there when he threw me out of the house. i bet you were in your first year of high school, excited to wear your new uniform and go to the opening ceremony.”

jungkook smiles gently at him, a show of white teeth that tells him that he’s got it right on the mark.

yoongi feels the strings of the guitar underneath his fingers. “my dad, see, he’s quite a businessman. he thinks logically. his own business is small and only in daegu, no real branches outside of that. but he wanted me to take over the family business, because my hyung was going to be some fancy government official.”

the hand around his own tightens.

“i wasn’t what he wanted me to be,” yoongi can still hear the fight in his head; the words, the sharpness of it cutting like a knife, the sound of the door shutting behind him. the realization that he was finally alone in the world. how lonely, lonely, inexplicably lonely he felt. “i never could be. it took me a while to learn that, because children aren’t blank spaces that can be filled in. they’re already painted out for the world to see; it just takes time for them to show it.”

“and i, jungkook...i was so lonely. all these years, without my parents, without my hyung. no matter what i did, i was always so lonely, it seemed like the world was an empty place. and then...then my mom contacted me three years ago. she and my father separated, just for a while. she wanted to see me. i had been away for so long that i forgot what her face looked like, almost.”

“i doubt you could,” jungkook interjects quietly, and yoongi shoots him an amused look. “i swear, i almost did.”

“i’ll never forget how i felt when i opened the door and she kissed my cheek. your singing reminds me of that time; like i’m a lost child that’s been found.”

it’s not an i love you, not outright, but that’s what it feels like. yoongi’s heart is beating so furiously in his chest that it almost feels like it can fly away. he doesn’t know where to look; his body feels hot and cold, his mouth dry, rib cage cracked open. when he gathers the valor to look up, jungkook is gazing at him in his transcendent way.

“you know,” he begins, licking the corner of his mouth, “that day - when you came in for a bouquet for your mother, you said that you felt lonely. and that it was okay,” he rubs at the side of his face, and yoongi realizes that he’s embarrassed. “that one day, you would find the right person.”

“i did, didn’t i,” yoongi says faintly, and jungkook won’t look up at him. he’s stalwartly staring at his fingers, at his palms, and the sleeves of his sweater.

“is it okay for you to be lonely now?” his voice is a measure in trepidation. “do you think you could be lonely now?”

yoongi sucks in a breath. he sets his guitar down and leans over the counter to cup a palm against jungkook’s neck, fingers splaying across his jawbone. “i don’t think i could stand it,” he breathes out, “if i had to be alone now.”

when he kisses jungkook, it’s a revelation. jungkook’s mouth is smooth underneath his, warm and pliant. jungkook presses back at first timidly, then stronger, until yoongi has to shift his head so that their mouths slot together easier. all he hears is the wild, animalistic thump of his heartbeat, the tinkling of wind chimes, the sound of the spring breeze. jungkook tastes like his dreams come true, strawberries and tapioca. his hands twist in yoongi’s sleeve and yoongi is pushing harder, harder, over the counter, hands spread across the nape of jungkook’s neck.

they break apart. what’s in between them is the sound of their own panting and half lidded eyes. jungkook pushes him away for a second only to jump over the counter and end up on the other side, half on top of yoongi, because of course he’d use his strength to do something like that. a laugh is stolen out of yoongi like a punch and jungkook breathlessly whines, “don’t make fun of me, yoongi-hyung - “ before they’re both brought back in together, as if held by a string. yoongi can’t resist him.

jungkook is warm and alive and real, a body pressed against his own, breathing his spirit into yoongi’s. he mouths against yoongi’s mouth, “i wanted to be that right person for so long, yoongi-hyung. the one you were waiting to find.”

“no worries,” yoongi runs his thumb across jungkook’s browbone. “you found me instead.”

/

it’s a sunny morning, the beginning to summer, and yoongi walks into the flower shop called the garden of eden with a purpose. he’s wearing his best - blue cut off jeans, a button up, and his boots. it’s not that hot of a day, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he walks into the shop and it’s nice and cool. there’s a boy near the counter with a red apron on; he’s wearing an oversized sweater, has hoops in his ears, and has an overbite when he smiles.

he doesn’t notice yoongi at first, because he’s too busy writing something down in a notebook. yoongi grins and taps on the counter, waiting until the boy looks up.

“hello! i’d like a bouquet of flowers, please. medium-sized one.”

“okay,” the boy, whose name is jungkook, confusedly takes out his headphones. “which flowers, and what for?”

“forget-me-nots and red hibiscus, please,” yoongi hums; he’s looking off into the distance, out through the glass, into the city where time runs forward at full speed.

jungkook prepares it readily, all the while frowning at him in bewilderment. when he’s done, there’s a lovely bouquet of contrasting red and blue flowers, startling in their beauty next to each other. yoongi asks for a card to be written.

“what would you like me to write on it?” jungkook asks, looking more and more lost by the minute. “for your mom, maybe?”

“no,” yoongi stops him from doing so. “i’ll write it myself, if it’s okay with you.”

“ah, sure.” he hands over the pen.

in careful writing, shielded by jungkook’s eyes, he writes in big letters: will you go out with me? he pays quickly and then grabs the card and begins to walk out the door, leaving jungkook looking like a tornado had just walked through his shop behind him.

outside, yoongi takes out two movie tickets, putting them in the bouquet with the card before hiding it behind his back. he turns a one eighty and goes straight back inside, heading right for jungkook.

at this point, the younger looks like he’s just given up trying to understand what’s going on and has decided to just play along with it. “hello again.”

“hi,” yoongi starts. he reveals the bouquet from his back, personally hand wrapped and organized by jungkook himself a few minutes earlier. this time, his personal card and the tickets stick out from in between the hibiscus. “for you.”

jungkook takes them with a silly little smile on his face. his fingers trail over the card, and he looks like he’s trying not to laugh. it makes yoongi light up from the inside. “thank you. no one’s ever given me flowers before.”

“first time for everything,” yoongi says. “so, will you go out with me?”

“i’ll have to think about it,” jungkook says solemnly, teasing, but yoongi situates himself down on his stool anyway, right next to jungkook’s counter. he’s ready to wait as long as it takes.

Chapter Text

historically, yoongi has never had good taste. in fact, his choices in significant others has always been deplorable; jimin has known yoongi ever since they were in college, and each year he’s seen yoongi fall into further relationship distress. and jimin knows that a person doesn’t need a boyfriend or a girlfriend or a significant other to make themselves happy; he didn’t bother yoongi for years because he was so well settled with his friends around him. then namjoon moved out and yoongi couldn’t hide how lonely he was - not from jimin.

yoongi has gone through maybe three actual relationships and a handful of ‘non-relationships’. his shortest was the boy he dated for a month and a half before cutting it off - the longest was the girl he kept to for six months before he had enough. everyone else has been some form of in-between. it’s not like they ended awfully, either - jimin has been witness to more than one end of these relationships. yoongi’s love is music. it’s his one true passion in life - nothing can take him away from it. he lives, breathes, spits music. he can get sucked in days on end with music. when he’s not teaching he’s creating.

sometimes that creation takes away from time that most people would use to eat, sleep, or spend time with other people. yoongi’s close friends are used to him shutting them all out for two days or so - his boyfriends and girlfriends? not so much.

jimin has always met his previous significant others, too. this new one? he’s barely heard of him in passing. his name sounds vaguely familiar, which doesn’t assuage jimin - it only makes him more frustrated.

when jimin brings taehyung over to their weekly dinners, he’s greeted by everyone with a wide and welcoming smile. seokjin-hyung and namjoon-hyung take to taehyung’s bright outlook immediately. they know taehyung as jimin’s coworker but have never been introduced to him formally. when yoongi-hyung comes by, jimin gets up to do the same, but taehyung beats him there first with a sunny, “hi yoongi-hyung!”

everyone else at their table freezes. namjoon, who was in the middle of cleaning up the napkins he spills over, pauses. seokjin’s eyebrows raise to his hairline; jimin blinks dumbly. all yoongi does is give a little grunt of acknowledgement - typical of yoongi - and taehyung accepts it gleefully - typical of anyone who is friends with yoongi.

“i didn’t know hyung was coming,” taehyung says. “jiminie, you know yoongi-hyung?”

“i’ve known him for years,” jimin replies. “how do you know him, tae?”

“he’s my boyfriend’s friend,” yoongi cuts in, interrupting whatever taehyung was about to say. he looks entirely unruffled when everyone else just stares at him in disbelief. “did you guys order yet? i want the two person platter. namjoon, share with me.”

“hyung, since when do you have a boyfriend,” namjoon splutters instead, saying what’s on jimin’s mind.

“two months,” yoongi says casually. “he stays over sometimes.”

“i don’t live with you anymore, how am i supposed to know?!”

“oh yeah.” yoongi pauses. “well, now you know. seriously, did you guys order yet?”

“oh my god,” jimin says faintly. he shouldn’t even be surprised - yoongi always, always pulls shit like this.

“have you met him yet?” taehyung asks the table in general. “he’s one of my best friends! he’s from busan like you, jimin-ah! he helped me and yoongi-hyung get along really well~!” he reaches forward and pats yoongi on the shoulder. if anyone else had tried that, they would’ve gotten their hand bitten off for sure, including jimin; instead yoongi just sighs, long-suffering.

“no, we haven’t met him,” seokjin says with a pointed look at yoongi. “in fact, we didn’t even know.”

“you would have blown it up,” yoongi mumbles. “and i wanted time alone with him. without all of you barging into my apartment whenever you goddamn feel like it - “ there is a pointed glance here at jimin, he can feel it, “- so ‘scuse me for keeping it to myself.”

“you’re not excused,” jimin whines. “hyung, how could you not tell me that you were dating someone? i thought you were pining quietly after wonsoo for the longest time!”

yoongi snorts. “that kid you set me up on a blind date with? uh, no. seriously, i’m ordering if you guys didn’t.”

and that’s how they know that yoongi is dating someone for sure, and not just a figment of his imagination.

/

the first time jimin meets jungkook, he doesn’t even realize that he’s yoongi’s boyfriend, because yoongi himself isn’t there.

they’re having a festival at their school, so the entire place has been decked out for spring. fake grass and tea leaves, vines, painted signs and ribbons; glitter and sunshine stickers are posted everywhere. jimin lets one of his students put one on his cheek, and they all go around calling him “sun-ssaem” for the day. it’s so annoyingly cute that jimin almost dies on the inside. taehyung only pats him on the shoulder and leaves to help the kid who got glue in his pants.

“everyone, treat park-ssaem the same way you would treat me, okay?” taehyung warns his kids, waggling a finger at them. he’s got a lopsided party hat on his head. “we’re going to have visitor today, so if you guys aren’t nice, we won’t be able to meet him!”

the kids start twittering. jimin’s kids are excited that someone new is going to visit their classroom; taehyung’s kids are excited for another reason. one kid pipes up, “is it jungkookie?”

taehyung snorts. “we say jungkook-hyung or jungkook-oppa, okay? and yes, it is jungkookie! how did you guess, eun-cha?” taehyung reaches down to tickle the boy on the stomach.

when he returns to standing, jimin pokes him on the shoulder. “who is jungkookie?”

“he’s the florist down the street that brings us flowers for a discount,” taehyung gives him a bright smile and a peace sign. “he’s from busan, like you! he gave us flowers for last year’s spring festival, too.” suddenly, taehyung sighs and puts his hands on his cheeks, looking up at the sky. or, well, the ceiling. “ah, the beauty of springtime love~”

“what are you on about,” jimin asks, amused.

he doesn’t have time to think about it anymore, because a kid pulls on his pants legs and shyly asks if she can go to bathroom, and then jimin is swept up in his job once more. they play a couple of word games and read old folktales about the origin of spring before having a light snack one of the parents kindly brought. jimin munches on a cookie, wiping glitter off his hands (that never leave) when there’s a knock on the door. taehyung, who was on his phone for some reason or the other, looks up at the noise.

“come in,” he calls out, and the door opens to reveal a young man. he’s holding baskets of colorful flowers in both hands. jimin waits until he’s inside to get a better look at his face - he’s warmly handsome, with baby fat on his cheeks and a sharp jaw, doe eyes and gently falling black hair.

“hello,” he starts, bowing down, causing his red apron to crinkle. it has a logo on it - probably his shop’s store. “is this teacher kim’s classroom?” before taehyung can say anything, the kids all rush to him, clamoring around his legs.

“jungkook hyung! i made a flower for you!” one kid beams, holding up a white page with a crudely drawn flower on it. jungkook pats him on the head and takes the picture with a look of awe. the kids around him ask questions and babble off words in their small voices, which, together - sounds like an entire chorus. jimin’s class lingers behind, their eyes wide of the colorful flowers.

taehyung claps loudly. “okay, everyone, time to get away from jungkook-ssi! remember our manners?” the kids all ‘aww’ and move away, going back to their seats happily. taehyung reaches forward and gives their visitor a warm hug. “okay, i’ll introduce you to my friend - he’s the teacher over there - in a minute, okay? first give out the flower crowns to everyone, i think they’ve been antsy for this all day.”

jungkook laughs. “okay, hyung. i need to give a bunch of orders to the high school a couple blocks over for their school festival too, so i can’t stay long.”

“no problem!” taehyung pats him gently, urging him to go. jungkook nods and bows once in jimin’s direction with a smile before sitting in the middle of the room and handing out little flower crowns. they look perfect for tiny heads, complete with ribbons or bells on some of them. taehyung comes by to stand at his side, holding two large ones in his hand. “here, this is for you.” he puts the one with purple morning glories on his head. “jungkookie outdoes himself each year.”

jimin takes a look at his beautiful wreath of red carnations and smooth green leaves. they’re soft underneath his hands, unlike the hard plastic that tells of fake flowers. there’s a sweet smell that comes from them, as well. jimin puts it on his head and feels a little ridiculous, but also a little bit happy as well. “wow, he’s talented.”

“he’s got a green thumb,” taehyung says. “well, obviously, since he runs a flower shop, but - “

once the kids are done with their crowns, they all pick a petal out of their crown and put it in a small box. they write their names on the edges and give it to jungkook, pressing kisses to his cheek and giving him a hug as ‘thank you’s. jimin hears a small snap from next to him and sees taehyung taking a picture of the scene, smiling wickedly.

“tae?”

“oh, just needed to send this to someone,” he says innocently while jungkook walks up to them.

“i have to get going,” he says a little apologetically. “it was nice seeing you again, hyung! and hello, i’m jeon jungkook - i work in the flower shop nearby.” he bows a little, and jimin finds himself doing the same.

“i’m park jimin!” he smiles. “thank you for the flowers - they’re beautiful, and the kids really love them.”

this makes jungkook’s smile become wider, and jimin notices that he actually has bunny teeth. “that makes me happy, thanks!”

“i’m sure yoongi-hyung will love these too,” taehyung snickers, waving a picture of jungkook surrounded by kids on his phone.

jungkook makes a grab for it, but taehyung is too quick. “hyung, don’t you dare send those! what the heck, why were you taking pictures of me!”

taehyung hums, “too late, i already texted them to him. oh, look, he texted back! i can feel my biological clock ticking, thanks. oh my god, hyung is hilarious!” taehyung cackles while jungkook’s face flushes.

the pieces connect together in a snap like that for jimin. “you - you’re yoongi-hyung’s boyfriend?”

jungkook startles. “ah, yes.” he scratches the top of his head, ducking so that his chin is nearly touching his chest, and it’s an adorable little tick.

jimin takes the florist by the shoulders and, after making sure jungkook is meeting his eyes - he’s taller, what the hell - jimin brings him in for a hug. “thanks,” is all he says.

jungkook pulls back from the hug, but he looks more relaxed this time. “ah, y-you’re welcome...?” he answers, not exactly sure why he’s being thanked, but jimin remembers the way yoongi is relaxed now, more settled, more put together. happy.

“jungkookie, call me hyung, okay?” jimin chirps, feeling elated at meeting his hyung’s boyfriend finally. yoongi is so mean with introductions - he refuses to introduce jungkook to his friends. “i’ll tell you all the stories i have of yoongi from college! embarrassing ones too, okay? all you have to do is make sure you stay in touch!”

jungkook’s mouth falls in an ‘o’. then he nods viciously. “yes, yes, anything you want, hyung,” he says, laughing at the prospect of hearing funny stories of yoongi from the past. (jimin won’t tell him about the relationship ones - he kind of wants jungkook to stick around.)

/