Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being a barista is tough, Jungsu decides. 

You’d think that after the lunch time rush you’d have a break from making coffee and warming almond croissants, but you really don’t. People just… always want coffee…. he guesses.

He flicks the machine frother on, the milk in the jug he’s holding begins to bubble and get hot - the metal jug is worn, old and bruised, and the heat creeps on to the handle and nips at his fingertips. A customer stands across from him in front of the counter, staring him down, as if telepathically shouting at him to go faster. A line of impatient people, a mother and her whining child, the people leaving their table, the dirty plates in the sink, the sickly buttery scent of pastries - 

Being a barista is tough, Jungsu decides. It’s all too much. It’s overwhelming.

He can feel the heat radiating from the stove behind the thin kitchen wall; the heat ripples on his back, and he feels a familiar trickle of sweat begin to pool in between his shoulder blades. He shivers a bit at the gross sensation, deciding that he’s going to stand under the shower and scrub his back indefinitely when he gets home.

So why does he keep this job, where he feels overstimulated, exhausted and agitated all at once? The answer is simple: money. 

It’s not easy living by yourself, not in a slowly but surely plummeting economy accompanied by a housing crisis - he’s grateful for his one bedroom studio - it’s cozy, and it’s enough to get by. The pay he gets at this café is great - but it’s not without effort.

“Regular almond cap, extra hot for Lea,” his voice is loud, attempting to cut through the busy chatter of the space. The lady staring him down from before steps forward, grabbing her cup and walking out of the shop. He feels a bit more at ease without her gaze on him.

He looks at the line of people, satisfied by how it’s shrunk a bit, but then a sharp pain hits him and he can already feel one of his biweekly migraines about to hit. He furrows his eyebrows, the dermal under his left eye throbbing at the sensation of his eyes squeezed shut. 

And then there comes his saviour, Kwak Jiseok, in all of his glory, with a look that says ‘dude, are you okay?’ 

“Dude, are you okay?” Jungsu laughs a bit at how he predicted it, before nodding his head,

“I’m fine, come on, let’s keep going-“

“I don’t think so,” Jiseok grabs his arm, yanking him back, “sit down, I’m making you a coffee, and you’re taking a break.” 

“But it’s not my break yet, I’ve got 30 minutes until -,”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you this job, I can run this shop better than you can,” he teases, “but seriously,” his tone becomes stern, “stop working so much, this is the 6th full day shift you’ve worked in a row, that’s borderline illegal.” He grabs a carton of Milk Lab oat milk - Jungsu’s favourite - and gets to work.

“And that’s exactly why I don’t work 7 days in a row - because then it’s not illegal.” He sits down anyways, letting himself freeload off of Jiseok’s kindness.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” Jiseok huffs, “it’s not like working one less day will kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know I like to save money.” 

“But for what? $100 extra dollars a week isn’t worth your health. You’re tired.” The coffee machine whirs agonisingly, and Jungsu lets out a long, frustrated sigh.

“Can we just drop it?” He finally throws out, meaner than he meant to. He sees Jiseok hesitate a bit, as if deciding what he should say next. 

“Fine,” he places the takeaway cup on the table firmly, “let’s drop it.” He gives Jungsu one final worried look, before finally letting go of the cup and walking to the counter. 

Jungsu lets out a breath, grateful that his friend didn’t forcefully take him off Monday’s roster in the good name of ‘health’ and ‘relaxation’, whatever that was. 

He untied his apron, tossing it on a chair before taking his coffee and walking to the front of the store. He decides the throbbing in his head is far too severe for him to take his usual walk around the block. 

And bless this busy cafe; all of the tables are taken. And he doesn’t really want to spend money somewhere else to get seating. Great. But his head is pounding, back is aching, and he really can’t be bothered, so he slumps down on the floor at the corner of the shop, not really giving a damn about the weird looks people give him, or about how some guy on his phone almost tripped over his legs. 

Watch where you’re going, maybe. He’s in quite the cynical mood at the moment. Every once in a while Jiseok will get like that; overly concerned, caring, all great qualities in a friend. But he just didn’t get it. 

If there’s one thing Jungsu knew, it was that he had to save money. 

Jiseok was an amazing, amazing friend, but his parents never faced financial struggle in the same way Jungsu’s parents did. Jiseok’s parents never went hungry so that he could eat - they never took turns sneaking out to collect 10 cent recycling bottles from the garbage at night, they never had hushed, secret conversations in the living room, planning how they were going to save up enough money to buy him new clothes, because he grew too fast and he was too tall and outgrew everything too quickly. 

Jungsu knew struggle from the way his parents’ wrists were thinner than they should’ve been, all because they chose to immigrate, under the pretense that life in America would be better than whatever they had going on in South Korea. It didn’t matter - money was necessary. He needed money to send to his parents, to apologise for the struggles they faced in the name of raising him. 

To him, there’s nothing worse than being a burden - if $100 a week could help his parents even just a bit, he would be grateful. Moving out also helped lessen their financial burden, so he still doesn’t understand why they were so sad to see him go. 

The warm, bitter taste of the flat white hits his tongue, clearing his head as he sighs - his senses are less muddled now, and he’s more aware of the fact that he smells like coffee and the butter they use to glaze the pastries - it turns him off life. No matter how much he showered, the smell never went away. He’s begun to theorise that someone has swapped out his rose scented shampoo for buttercream. 

He looks around, observing the same, boring, busy street as he usually does on his break, until he spots something different. 

Purple lettering. Cursive. He spots: the building across the road finally has tenants, it would seem. He squints, reading the title 

“Ode to Life? What kind of store name is that?” He mumbles, taking another swig of his coffee. An ‘opening soon’ sign dangles off the front window - and the shop door is open, meaning someone’s doing, well, something. 

And then he sees it: a disaster waiting to happen. A guy with unruly blond and permed hair, walks around the side of the store, carrying three large ceramic pots, balanced on top of each other as if he was playing Jenga. 

He almost predicts it; the way the pot on top slides off, crashing down with a sharp thud and breaking into small, sharp pieces. People turn and stare at him, the boy panics, placing the last two pots down slowly before looking at his mess and sighing. When he notices people staring, he looks up and gives a thumbs up, the arm of his oversized sweater riding up ever-so-slightly to reveal some kind of black ink marking. A tattoo? 

To be honest, Jungsu really wanted to leave it, he really did, but unfortunately deep down: he’s a good person - and no one else was helping the boy clean up, so he decided he might as well be the one to do so. He pushes himself up off the ground, ignoring the sharp sting behind his eyes, and makes his way across the road.

As he comes closer, he notices how quickly the blond boy is picking up small shards. He’s going to hurt himself. He quickened his pace, squatting in front of the boy and beginning to pick shards up too. This action makes the blond stop - he finally looks up, and they lock eyes.

He’s pretty, Jungsu thinks, noticing the small beauty mark above his left eye. But the boy doesn’t speak, just stares, curious. 

“I’m helping you clean, isn’t it obvious?” He asks, which seems to snap the boy out of his staring match. 

“Oh! Right, sorry, thank you.” He says quickly, looking back down and resuming his fast pick-up speed, a pile of shards in a plastic bag to his left.  

Jungsu can’t tell if the smell of roses and soil is coming from the pot, or from the boy in front of him. He guesses the smell must stick to him too - but he would take roses over cream buns any day.

“You’re gonna cut yourself.” Jungsu says after a while, causing the boy in front of him to stop momentarily, before he smiles softly, placing the debris in the rubbish bag. 

“I appreciate the concern, but don’t worry about it! I’m a florist, so I’ve got plenty of cuts on my hands from thorns already, see?” He holds out his hands, showing off the mosaic of fresh and old scars on his fingers as if they were trophies. 

His hands are pretty, Jungsu decides, even if they’re littered with thin red and brown markings. 

“You don’t… wear gloves?” He asks instead.

“Nah, don’t like the feeling of ‘em. Feels like there’s a barrier between my hands and my craft, y’know?” 

“Hmm, I get it.” Jungsu nods, and the boy in front of him nods and smiles, that sweet smile, yet again, before holding the bag out towards him. 

“I think you’ve picked up the last of the big shards, chuck ‘em in. I’ll sweep up the rest!” and then his eyes widen, as if he’d forgotten something important,  “oh! And thank you so much again! You can head off now, I think your coffee’s getting cold!” He gestures with a nod of his head towards the half full coffee cup on Jungsu’s right. 

“It was nothing,” he stands up, “anyone would help you in that situation.” He lies, yes, lies because no one else helped except for him.

“Alright, well, if you ever need flowers for something you can come to me - I’ll give you a free bouquet on the house to say thanks !” He beams, and Jungsu thinks that if you told him that the sun shines out of this guy he would probably believe you. 

Jungsu snorts a bit at the idea. Him? Buying flowers? Dating anyone? He couldn’t imagine someone liking him in that way - he’s married to his work and savings account at this point. 

“Alright, well, I’ll head off then. And thanks.” He gives a small nod, turning back to begin his march back to work. 

The rest of the shift runs pretty smoothly, besides the gross smell of buttercream that somehow made its way through his nostrils and into the back of his throat, and the occasional stern, worried looks from his best friend. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

6:40pm. Legally, he has to accept customers until 6:45pm, but he doesn’t really feel like it.

Please no one walk in. Please. Please no one. Please no one walk in-  

But the bell above the door rings like doomsday and Jungsu is about to say fuck it and just tell them they’re closing, until he sees who walked in. 

It’s Blondie. He realises, and thinks this guy is probably not an insufferable customer, so making him a coffee won’t hurt. 

“Hello,” he greets as Blondie approaches the counter, “what can I get for you?” He can’t help the flatness of his tone, not at this time of day, and hopes he’s not coming off as too unbothered. 

Their eyes meet again for the second time that day, Blondie gives him a pensive look, undecided, as if he wants to say something, but then he settles on, “a hazelnut latte please, small.” 

Jungsu feels like he’s disappointed Blondie somehow and he really doesn’t get why. Blondie stares at him hesitantly, like a lost puppy, and Jungsu raises an eyebrow at him, which makes him avert his gaze. 

“Right,” he scribbles the order onto a cup lid, “that’ll be $4 please, tap when you’re ready.” He prompts, seeing as the boy already has Apple Pay ready to go on his phone.

When the payment is processed he gets to work, and from his peripheral vision he can see Jiseok flipping the sign from ‘we are open!’ in that ugly cursive font, to ‘closed’ in those beautiful bold red letters. He cheers internally, lightening up as he starts making his last order of the day. 

However, this last coffee isn’t as joyous as he thought it’d be to make, because he can feel two eyes burning right into his forehead. He clicks ‘brew’ and sighs, looking up to meet eyes with the perpetrator.

“Do you have something to say?” It comes off harsher than he meant it to be, he notices how Blondie’s cheeks flush a bit at his tone.

“Sorry,” he clears his throat, “I wanted to ask… are you Korean?“ Jungsu stares for a moment, the puzzle pieces beginning to come together.

“Yeah I am, why?” He responds, noticing how Blondie smiles, eyes lit up. He approaches the counter, leaning over. Jungsu smells roses again, and notes that the smell from earlier was, in fact, the florist in front of him, and not the broken pot with soil stuck in it’s cracks.

“Oh, well, me too! I was just asking, since I’ve moved here from Boston, you’re the first Korean I’ve met.” Jungsu guesses that he’s excited about that, but it surprises him that he’s the first - he’s got a few regular customers who are Korean, too. 

“Oh wow, all the way from Boston to Washington, huh? That’s rough.” He makes small talk instead of giving his 10 cents. 

“Did you grow up in Washington, then?”

“Nah,” he snorts, “I’m from Iowa.”  

“Oh - hey! You’re much further away than I am, man, how’d you do it?” 

“I’ve got a friend here who helped me out.” Bless his online friend Jiseok, who has now become his closest friend. Jiseok flew him out, found him a place to stay, got him a job, he can’t begin to express how grateful he is.

“That’s awesome, I’m kind of just freeballing this as I go.” Something about his carefree nature both fascinates and ticks off Jungsu. It ticks him off that he’s really, really pretty too.

“So why a flower shop?” He asks - the question teetering between the edges of curiousity and bitterness. 

“Hmmm…” Blondie taps his fingers on the table, as if actually considering the question, before smiling, “because why not?” His tone is firm, his gaze meeting Jungsu’s with an intense sense of surety and pride.

It makes him crack a smile; he admires people like Blondie; fearless, driven, passionate. 

The only thing that’s ever driven him in life is money, so that’s that. 

He finishes off the coffee, pouring the milk in, before popping the cap on.

“Well, good luck with everything.” He slides the coffee forwards, “I’ll see you more often, then?” 

He doesn’t really get why Blondie blushes a bit at that, before fumbling to say, “Oh! I have something for you, by the way,” he opens the worn, soft leather satchel crossed over his body, reaching to pull out a neatly wrapped White Lily. It looks fresh; its petals are soft, and you can tell it’s about to bloom. 

“It’s not much, but it’s what I can give you.” He places it gently on the counter, hand picking up his latte. “I’m Oh Seungmin, by the way!” He gleams.

Jungsu is dumbfounded by Blondie - no, by Seungmin’s thoughtful gesture. Not many people would care enough - he guesses that Seungmin’s heart is just special. He’s got enough sparkles in his eyes to light up any room he walks into.

“Thanks, the name’s Kim Jungsu.”

“Nice to meet you, Jungsu! I hope we can be friends! I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Monday,” Jungsu corrects, “that’s my next shift.” 

“Monday it is then! Have a good night!” And then he’s gone, leaving with charisma and a wave, and all of a sudden the lights in the cafe seem a little more dull, and the sound of the coffee machine cleaning itself is a little too present. 

Damn. He should probably close up now.

“Leave,” Jiseok’s voice comes from behind him.

He jerks his head towards the voice in protest, “but-“ 

“Leave or else I’m cancelling your shift on Monday, I’ve got this.” His tone is final, and Jungsu knows there’s no fighting Jiseok when he gets like this.

For once, Jungsu is thankful for Jiseok’s insistance, he sighs, leaning forwards to give him a hug. 

“Thanks, man.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jiseok pats his back quickly, before giving him a small shove to get off, “now go home, sleep. And don’t forget your flower from if Sunshine was personified.” 

Jungsu wants to say something, but he kind of agrees, so he just lets out a laugh and grabs the gift off the counter. And then he finally, finally signs off work.

When he gets home, despite his fatigue, Jungsu can’t help but search for the meaning of the flower before he sleeps.

White Lilies: sincerity, heartfelt gestures, thank you. 

Chapter Text

Oh Seungmin never had trouble sleeping - his beauty sleep was not a want but a need; an absolutely crucial part of his routine. If he missed a night of sleep, he’d wake up tired, lethargic, and most likely with a giant red zit friend blooming on his forehead.

But Sunday night posed a bit of a challenge for him. For the first time since high school exams, he couldn’t stop tossing and turning, kicking the sheets off to run to his closet and change his outfit for the following day. And the culprit? None other than Kim Jungsu; the brooding, blunt, really cute barista who works at the cafe across the street. Seungmin had to look good - he couldn’t show up to work looking just decent when he might bump into… well, you know who.

Seungmin never believed in love at first sight until… like, Saturday afternoon when he dropped that pot. ‘The pot of fate’, he’s dubbed it. For once, his clumsiness is a quality he’s grateful to have, because without it, he probably wouldn’t have received a helping hand - well, hands, really nice hands, Seungmin thinks.

The thing is - Oh Seungmin has not had many crushes in the past, he’d considered himself aromantic at some stage; why couldn’t he date girls like all of his friends? It wasn’t like he never received confessions- he was tall, handsome, and respectful; the perfect boyfriend. After all, his family raised him well: taught him to be strong, to be a man, and to fight for what he believed in.

And then one day it happened; when he had his first crush at the age of 16, and realised it wasn’t a girl but a boy, it took him about 3 years of grappling with his sense-of-self to finally accept the fact that he was gay and come out to his parents. 

‘Fight for what you believe in, for who you are’, his dad would tell him. So nothing could’ve prepared Seungmin for the way his father’s fists clenched, the way a vein in his neck popped out and the pure, unfiltered rage in his voice as he seethed out: “You either take it back or you get out of this house. No son of mine is gay.” 

But Seungmin wasn’t going to take it back - not when it had taken him so long to figure it out. And so that night, he grabbed a holiday sized suitcase out of his cupboard, packed his entire wardrobe, and left his family. He didn’t listen when his mom grabbed his arm, begged him to stay, asked where he was going— he just left. Because while his mom may have been able to convince his dad to not kick him out, she wouldn’t ever be able to convince him or herself to love him in the same way they used to. 

After that, at the ripe age of 19, Oh Seungmin dropped out of his business course at University, and crashed at his friend’s apartment. Him and Hyeongjun had been close since they were young, and so when Seungmin showed up to Hyeongjun’s doorstep at 11pm with a suitcase, eyes stinging and chin scrunched, holding in heavy sobs, Hyeongjun knew better than to ask ‘what happened’. He just took his stuff inside before bringing him into a warm hug. They didn’t speak until the next morning, but the warmth of Hyeongjun’s embrace and the comfort of the hands rubbing circles into his back were more than enough to soothe Seungmin through his crisis.

And now, at 21, Seungmin has made something for himself; he still rooms with Hyeongjun (he’s happy to say they split the rent), but they’ve moved to the big city of Seattle, and they’ve started their own business together doing something that they love. Seungmin loves the way that he feels after he finishes a bouquet; loves the look on a customer’s face when they pick up flowers for their special occasion, satisfied with the meticulous details hidden within it.

He thinks back to Saturday, remembers the odd look Jungsu gave him when he said ‘why not?’. Sure, he could have worded it better, given him the whole life story spiel, but he thought that it’d be better to save it for another day.

His hands fidget with the roses laid out beneath them, fingers accidentally getting pricked as he tries to dethorn them. But he didn’t really care about the pain, because the looming question and fear was this; would Jungsu even like him back? What if Jungsu hates him too? What if he’s… 

Seungmin has always lived with fear; with this crippling sense of doom, of terror, that people won’t like him. So he’s always fit the moulds of how people wanted to perceive him- coming out at 19 marked the end of that, and the beginning of self-expression, so Seungmin was certain of one thing: he had to be carefree. He had to pretend like it didn’t matter because how else could he live with himself? How could he live knowing that his whole life would amount to this; his achievements and whole being came tumbling down at the mention of his sexuality. He can feel himself spiralling, his breath quickening, vision hazing - the pricks of the thorns not really feeling like anything anymore.

Dad could never love me, he sniffles, hiccuping shortly after - feels his eyes stinging - he’s not sure if it’s from the memories, the pollen-induced rhinitis, or the fact that he was running on 2 hours of sleep, with concealer carefully smeared under his eyes to cover his fatigue. 

Let’s not think about that right now, he reminds himself - it’s enough of that. Because today is Monday, and today on his lunch break, Seungmin plans to go and see Jungsu, maybe drop a hint or two, and try to learn more about him.

He blinks really hard, squeezing his eyes as if that’ll stop them from aching. He takes deep breaths, zoning out of his head and tapping into the Sinatra album he has playing on his record player behind him - and then concentrates on the light conversation coming from the front of the store, probably from Hyeongjun and a customer. 

And, absentmindedly, he’s finished the bouquet. It’s perfect: a mix of red and pink roses with the perfect ratio, with 3 white roses in the middle. He hopes the bouquet goes home to someone who’ll love it. He walks to the front of the store, glancing at the clock briefly. 

12:00pm. His heart that he just calmed down begins thumping again- he can hear it’s speedy rhythm in his ears, feel his muscles working in his chest. He sets the bouquet down at the front, smiling gently at the customer who glanced at him before heading out back to the bathroom. 

He shuts the door behind him quickly and it thuds softly before he locks it, bracing himself with his arms as he leans against it. 

I forgot how hard it was to have a crush, he thinks. Jungsu’s the first guy he’s crushed on since he moved out - and he knows it’s stupid. He knows that he’s only had 2 interactions with the guy, but if he can’t get his piercing eyes and calm voice out of his head, what else is he supposed to call the gnawing feeling in his stomach - or the thumping of his heart that makes its way up to his skull? What is this deep sense of yearning if not a crush? 

He steadies himself, pushes himself off the door and makes his way to the sink - ready to assess himself in the mirror. He leans forward, ticking his tongue at how the concealer under his eyes has begun to crease a little bit. He grabs setting powder from the top draw in the bathroom, smoothing the concealer out with his fingers, before pressing the packed powder in firmly, thinking that the harder he pushes the more he can iron out his skin. 

His hair looks good - he decides. He made sure to shower this morning, diffusing his hair in a way that made his perm sit just right on his head - his fringe curling in and framing his face in all the right places. His outfit is simple - but cute. He’s wearing a striped purple and white v-neck sweater, a bit loose on him so that when the arms slide up you can catch a glimpse of the intricate tattoos that line his forearms. His pants are black - baggy, ripped denim jeans, held up by a belt with silver buckles and a waist chain hanging off the side of his hip. For jewellery, a hydrangea pendant - in silver -  hangs around his neck, layered with a slightly tighter thin silver chain. He’s got a bunch of silver rings on his fingers - all purchased from those cheap online stores, but he makes sure to keep them away from water so they don’t tarnish.

He stares at himself once again; gives himself one last final look. Pretty, he decides, I look pretty. 

By the time he gets out of the bathroom it’s 12:10pm, and by the time he’s wrapped up a sale, it’s 12:30pm, and then he’s on his break, absentmindedly waving bye to Hyeongjun and making his way across the road. It doesn’t really hit him until the bell above the door chimes, signalling a new customer (him). 

And it really, really hits him when he sees Jungsu behind the coffee machine, hands moving quickly to pour milk, wipe down the frother nozzle, press ‘brew’, refill the coffee bean compartment - all of that stuff which made his hands smell like a warm latte when they held those pot shards out to him on Saturday. He notes the slight crease between his brows, how he blinks quickly and harshly without realising, making the dermal under his left eye shift and glint with each scrunch of his eyes.

He gets in line, and takes a look around. The cafe is absolutely packed - and he can see why. That hazelnut late he had on Saturday was perfect, even if Jungsu made it absentmindedly while having a conversation - he knew how to brew his coffee. 

The line moves quickly, and when Seungmin is second in line - he catches a glimpse of the guy at the register, who gives him one look before something in his brain churns and a smile cracks at the corner of his lips. After the customer in front of Seungmin pays, he steps back, saying, “one moment please”, and walks over to Jungsu. Oh.

Oh. The guy walks over to Jungsu, nudging him a bit and gesturing for him to man the cash register - Seungmin doesn’t quite pick up what he was saying from the bustling chatter of the cafe, but he does pick up on the way that Jungsu looks at him, quirking a curious eyebrow at him as they make eye contact. 

He can feel his cheeks heating up as he keeps up the eye contact - he can’t break it, he has to be confident. He knows he looks good today, so he should own that. Jungsu rinses his hands with water quickly, dabbing them on a towel to dry them before walking over to the register. 

“Hi, Seungmin,” he says in his usual tone, sounding less tired than Saturday, “what can I get you?” Seungmin doesn’t know if it’s the fact that he said his name, or the way that Jungsu is looking into his eyes like he can see right through him, but he feels his chest get hot, and his cheeks are definitely turning red. 

“I’ll, uh,” he clears his throat, staring back, “I’ll get a regular strawberry matcha, iced.” He finally averts his gaze and recollects himself a bit, his eyes landing on a strawberry tart behind the glass case in the counter.

“Is that all for today?” Jungsu asks, and Seungmin nods, before forcing himself to meet Jungsu’s gaze again. He notes that even though Jungsu’s expression is stoic, his eyes have a lot to them - their shape, their softness, and there’s this look in them that is endlessly patient.

“That’ll be $7,” Jungsu says as Seungmin reaches for the phone in his pocket, making sure his grip is tight to compensate for his cold, slightly sweaty hands, but for some reason his Face ID doesn’t work, so he has to put his 17 character password in and it takes…a while. Because his fingers slip and he makes a typo the first time, then he has to redo it, and he can’t help but think that he looks like an absolute idiot- 

You’re fumbling this so bad right now, damn it Seungmin. 

“Do you like sweet drinks?” Jungsu asks him, and Seungmin looks up again - he sees the look Jungsu is giving him, his full lips slightly curled into the world’s most awkward yet most reassuring smile, eyes relaxed and patient. Then he calms down a bit and switches his phone off and on again - Face ID works this time.

“Yeah, uhm,” he responds finally, “I like sweet things.” 

“Noted,” Jungsu hums with a nod as Seungmin pays, “Your drink will be ready soon. I’ll make it.” And there’s something really attractive about the way Jungsu walks away, pushes his friend to go back to the counter, and starts making Seungmin’s drink right away. So did his friend really make Jungsu stop just to take his order specifically? He looks over at the other worker - ‘Jiseok’ his tag reads. 

Thank you, Jiseok. He cheers internally. He’s not sure why he did it, but he’s grateful he did. Jungsu didn’t seem weirded out or anything. Oh well, he did make a fool of himself with the whole password and Apple Pay situation, but Jungsu didn’t look upset, he looked patient - or maybe that’s just the kind of person he is? 

What if I really did look stupid… goodness, great second impression Seungmin. First you’re a clutz and then - 

“Strawberry matcha for Seungmin.” Jungsu’s voice cuts through his thoughts - his name sounds different on Jungsu’s tongue - the tone in his voice is almost song-like. He thinks Jungsu would make a good singer.

He walks to the counter, and grabs his drink. His mouth moves faster than his brain and he blurts out, “Do you think I’m stupid?” God, you’ve really done it. But he can’t back down now. 

He sees the cogs in Jungsu’s head turn as he freezes for a moment, head tilting slightly and eyebrows twitching slightly in confusion. ”I…I don’t think you’re stupid, no. Not at all.” He can tell by the quirk of the corner of Jungsu’s lip that he’s not taking this seriously, and he’s actually quite thankful for that. So he plays along, shoulders relaxing as he takes a step back and smiles up at Jungsu.

“Hmm,” he hums playfully, “thanks. I think you’re pretty smart too.” And then he’s walking away with a wave over his shoulder, drink in his right hand. He looks back when he’s walking out the door and makes eye contact with Jungsu again, catches him staring - but Jungsu looks away quickly, getting back to work as if he just got caught cheating on an exam.

He pretty much… dissociates on the walk back to work, he’s not sure how he should feel. When he’s back in the store, there’s still 10 minutes before his break is finished, but he taps his best friend on the shoulder, turning to absentmindedly put his apron back on. When he turns back, Hyeongjun is giving him a confused look, eyes flickering between the time on his watch and Seungmin.

“Hyeongjun, please… just, let me man the front for a little bit. I need to make sure I’m still capable of normal human interaction.” Hyeongjun just smiles and takes a step back. 

“No worries, Sumi,” his childhood nickname feels comforting when Hyeongjun says it, “I’m assuming you just spoke to your boyfriend, then I’ll take an early mark.” He steps back, untying his apron. He’s about to go out back, but then he stops. Seungmin stares curiously. 

“You know what? I’m gonna go and size this guy up. See if he’s all that.” He grabs his tote bag from under the counter, “This is the first crush you’ve had in years, he better be worth it.”

“Huh?” Seungmin panicks, “what do you mean, size him up? Huh? What are you going to say to him?” Goodness - Seungmin trusts Hyeongjun to not say anything stupid, but at the same time, what is he going to say? 

“Sumi, I’m joking,” Hyeongjun laughs a bit, his smile soft and eyes crinkled, “I just felt like a coffee. I’ll be back in 5 minutes.”

“Oh - right.” Seungmin feels stupid again- always taking things literally. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He replies when he’s at the door, and then he’s out, leaving Seungmin alone in the store. 

It’s lunchtime, so in theory, it should be really busy, and Seungmin should be able to distract himself with a sale or two - but he guess that the universe is playing tricks on him, because he is met by radio silence, and the faint sound of Frank Sinatra’s ‘The World We Knew’ echoing from the record player out back. With a huff, Seungmin goes and picks up the record player - it’s one of those compact ones, so it’s easy to carry. He’s carried heavier pots before, anyway.

But Sinatra’s voice now being in the front room next to him doesn’t do anything to block out the chaos in his mind.

He can’t tell if he’s humiliated himself, or made Jungsu curious about him. He really hopes it’s the latter, but guesses any impression is better than none. Another 5 minutes pass as he agonises over the situation, before the front door opens and a woman and her daughter walk in. 

Thank Goodness. 

“Heya! How can I help you today?” He plasters his rehearsed smile on his face when they look at him. And that’s how the next thirty minutes pass - Hyeongjun came back at some stage, silently slipping into the back room to doom scroll for a bit for the remainder of his break. But Seungmin didn’t mind being overwhelmed by 3 or 4 customers, it just meant less time to think about everything. 

When Hyeongjun comes back to the front - work gets easier, and so he lets his eyes wander, and they land across the road, once again. 

That’s when he sees Jungsu; sitting on the floor on the corner of the store once again - and Seungmin couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t stop himself from excusing himself, muttering a quick ‘sorry’ to Hyeongjun, and bolting out of the store before speed walking across the road. He stills for a bit, noticing the way Jungsu sits, not caring about the fact that his legs are blocking half of the pathway, or the fact that people are giving him annoyed looks. He notices the way there’s a crease in between his brows, eyes intensely concentrating on whatever article he was reading on his phone. He considers not bothering him - but he can’t help it, he bothers Jungsu anyway.

“Do you enjoy sitting on the floor during your breaks?” He teases as he squats down in front of the barista, to which Jungsu instinctively freezes up, before raising his head to meet Seungmin’s gaze. He raises an eyebrow, switching his phone off and stuffing it into his pant pocket. 

“And I thought you already finished your break,” he leans back, legs in front of him with his elbows resting on his knees, coffee cup dangling in his right hand, “what’re you doing here slacking off?” 

“I saw you,” he replies honestly, realising how it sounds and then correcting it to, “I thought I’d say thanks for Saturday - if there’s nowhere for you to sit, come inside of my shop, you can chill in there.” 

“You already thanked me with a lily, though.” He reminds. 

Seungmin feels his cheeks heat up a bit, “that’s not an adequate thank you… and besides, you’ll get a sore back sitting on the ground, y’know?” Seungmin wonders why it felt easier to talk to Jungsu like this - on the floor of a crowded pathway. He wonders if it’s because he didn’t think about it as much as he did at lunch - if maybe his meticulous planning had somehow caused him to fumble when ordering.

“I appreciate it, but I swear I’m fine here.” He smiles softly, but the smile is tired and forced.

He’s going to ruin his health at this rate, he thinks.

“I’ll show you how to make a bouquet then.” He blurts out instead. And for some reason, Jungsu laughs, staring at him like he’s both the weirdest and most fascinating being on Earth. He doesn’t think this smile is forced. Seungmin will take it. 

“Alright, I’m sold.” Jungsu downs the rest of his coffee, pushing himself up and off the ground, he stops to check his watch, and then looks up to the right as if figuring something out. 

He’s so hot, goodness. Seungmin can’t help it. Jungsu really is handsome. 

“Give me a minute,” he says, “I’ll be just a minute, then I’ll meet you.” Seungmin looks at him with a mix of curiosity and excitement. 

“I’ll be waiting,” he turns around, sitting against the wall in the same place Jungsu just was, and Jungsu quickly slips inside of the store. Seungmin looks out to the street, fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper like he always does when he’s nervous, before swapping to rotating the chunky rings on his fingers instead. His mind is surprisingly clear - he feels comfortable. 

He stands up when he notices Jungsu coming back out - he really did take a minute, his cheeks are a bit flushed, and Seungmin guesses it’s from him rushing. It makes him think that Jungsu is a sucker for promises and rules - it makes him like him even more. 

Jungsu is holding a small pink box in his right hand but Seungmin doesn’t pry, just smiles and says, “let’s go.” 

They chat about the weather on the way to the cafe, complaining about how it’s humid during the daytime, and freezing cold when the sun sets. Jungsu asks Seungmin why he’s wearing a sweater, and he laughs it off saying it’s for fashion. He blushes, because the real reason is that he’s not wearing anything under, and the holes in the crotchet pattern give him great ventilation. He’s not sure how that would come across if he were to say it out loud, though.

When they arrive back at Ode to Life, Hyeongjun is at the counter, tying a silky white ribbon around a bouquet of hydrangeas. He takes one look at him, eyes shifting to Jungsu momentarily, before he sighs, shooing the pair off with his hand. Seungmin bites his lip - he kind of feels guilty, but he decides he’ll cover the closing up of the store instead of Hyeongjun tonight to say sorry. As they’re walking to the break room, Seungmin feels Jungsu’s head inch closer to him and he can feel the hairs on his neck stand up, his face beginning to feel hot.

“I don’t think your friend is happy with you ditching work.”  Jungsu whispers, low and soft, into his right ear - Seungmin cranes his neck to the left, trying to escape from the overwhelming proximity slightly, before he turns his head to face Jungsu. So close.

“He’ll get over it.” He whispers back, “I’ll buy him a coffee or something.” And Jungsu lets out a small laugh at that, turning away and restoring a safe distance between them once again. Seungmin lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“Those flowers he was wrapping - they’re nice.” Jungsu comments when they get to the back, and a flip switches inside Seungmin. 

“Those were hydrangeas! Do you wanna design a bouquet for them with me?” He asks, genuinely excited about his passion. 

“I wouldn’t mind, you did promise to show me how to make a bouquet, after all.” Jungsu reminds him of the reason he agreed to come.

“Right! Okay,” he points towards a chair - his chair - it’s a lilac colour with soft cushioning, and sits next to the flower arrangement table, “Sit there, and I’ll be back.” 

“Yes boss.” Jungsu remarks, but Seungmin can hear his sigh of relief at taking a seat as he’s exiting the room. The chair is comfortable, after all, he would know. He goes into the cool room, grabbing a bucket of green and pink hydrangeas, as well as some white peony roses. He shivers a bit at the low temperature, but it’s kind of refreshing. When he gets back to the room, Jungsu is sitting, body fully relaxed in the comfort of his chair. 

“Those flowers are different,” Jungsu points to the peonies. 

“Well, yes,” Seungmin clears his throat when the ‘yes’ cracks a bit, “Usually I’d mix in hydrangeas with peony roses, I think it just works best. Hydrangeas are a bunch of baby flowers connected to one stem - but peonies, oh when they bloom, they’re just -” he bites his lip, realising he’s spoken too much, and he kind of just stands there. 

“Oh, continue,” Jungsu says when he notices, eyes fixed on Seungmin’s, “I’m interested.” Seungmin feels watched under his stare - it’s so observant, he feels like he’s playing a game of cat and mouse.

“Well, their petals are large and soft,” he breathes out, picking one up out of the basket to hold it out towards Jungsu, “so just two or three of ‘em in the middle will make the whole bouquet a statement, y’know?” 

“That makes sense,” Jungsu nods, “so, you gonna make it now?” He asks, and Seungmin realises once again that Jungsu is just as blunt as he was on Saturday, but he doesn’t mind.  

“I’m getting to it,” he huffs playfully, grabbing a bunch of pink hydrangeas and handing it to Jungsu, “hold these for me, assistant. Watch and learn.” He can almost hear the way Jungsu is staring at him - can almost hear the intrigue and fascination in his gaze. He doesn’t get how staring can be so loud, though that might just be his heart thumping in his ears. 

“Understood.” He takes the hydrangeas without question, holding them low so that he can see what Seungmin is doing. 

“So first, we’ve gotta consider the colours - I’ve already done that for you. Pink, green, and white is a pretty safe combo, and everyone likes it.” He’s absentmindedly picking up green hydrangeas, and taking a few out of Jungsu’s hand as he speaks, arranging them intricately, “but the key is, you can’t make all these flowers equal. Less of one colour will make it pop more - you get me?” He hears Jungsu hum in approval. He glances to the side, noticing how Jungsu stares at his hands intensely, concentrating - like he actually cares. And all of a sudden, Seungmin feels all too conscious of the fresh cuts on his fingers from the morning - still red and burning.

“You need any more pinks?” Jungsu offers the remaining 2 hydrangeas in his hand, holding them out towards Seungmin. 

“Hmmm, nah. Too much pink now.” He takes the flowers from Jungsu anyways, placing the hydrangeas back in their bucket, before he picks up the whole bucket of peonies and places it down in front of Jungsu, “I’ll add a bit more green - choose your 3 favourite peonies from that bunch.” Jungsu hums and leans over in the chair, sifting through the flowers. 

And it feels all too intimate - too natural. They’re just arranging a bouquet but Seungmin feels too aware. Too aware of the fact that, of all Sinatra songs, All The Way is now playing on the record player that was left at the front. He’s aware of how close Jungsu is sitting next to him, aware of how seriously Jungsu is taking this - of the way that his eyebrows are creased in intense concentration as he picks out one, two, three - 

“I’m done,” Jungsu’s staring at him, expectantly, holding the peonies up to Seungmin as if they were a peace offering of some kind. 

He chose beautifully. Seungmin thinks, because he would’ve chosen the same ones. 

“Nice choice,” is all he says instead, embarrassed by how his cheeks are flushed and his hands are clammy, despite the situation being totally normal. He goes to take the peonies but stills, making Jungsu quirk an expectant brow at him, “Do you wanna put them in the bouquet?” he asks, voice quiet as if he didn’t want to be overheard. 

“I’d like that.” Jungsu’s voice is just as soft. He stands up this time, now at eye level with Seungmin, giving him one last glance before he starts placing the peonies - one in the centre, two at the front. 

It’s perfect. Seungmin stares at it, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s something so small - but it makes him so happy. His family never cared about his love for design, but this random guy - a guy he literally just met - cared enough to pay attention for a little while. Seungmin thinks he just fell harder.

“Is it… alright?” Jungsu asks, and Seungmin realises that he’d been staring.

“If you didn’t already have a job, I would’ve hired you right now on the spot,” he nods, handing the bouquet to Jungsu to hold while he goes to grab a strip of fabric and tape to wrap around the stems and hold them together. His response makes Jungsu laugh briefly, and from the corner of his eye he can see the barista suppressing a smile.

He delicately and firmly wraps the fabric around the flowers, securing it with tape. He takes the bouquet back from Jungsu and picks up his scissors, trimming the longer stems before giving the bouquet one final look and nodding in approval.

“All done! Good job today, assistant.” He jokes, and Jungsu smiles but then freezes, reaching into his pocket - Seungmin thinks it’s a notification of some sort and tilts his head in question when Jungsu looks back at him. 

“Why thank you, but I’ve gotta head back now,” he turns his phone screen around -  1:55pm - , “5 minutes until my break is over - ah - also,” he turns around, leaning down to grab the small pink box he took from the store earlier. He stares at Seungmin for a bit, their eyes locked for what seems like forever, and Seungmin’s lost track of how many times he’s felt heat cloud his face today. It’s seriously ridiculous.

And then he stops staring, seems to ground himself a bit, and holds the box out to Seungmin, “for you, to say thanks for the lesson.” He looks away as he holds it out - and it gives Seungmin a good view of his ears - which are definitely red. 

Seungmin almost fumbles the bouquet in his hands when he goes to set it down, curiously grabbing the box from Jungsu’s hands. And when he opens it, his breath hitches. 

Strawberry tarts. 

“These are…” he trails off, in awe - because he could swear he only looked at these for a few seconds. 

“I noticed you looking at them earlier, thought maybe you liked them...” Jungsu’s voice is soft, a stark contrast to the stiffness of his posture - his hands are awkwardly placed in his pant pockets, and he’s now staring at Seungmin with a mix of expectancy and anxiousness. Seungmin loves how his dermal glints - God, he loves that dermal.

“I like - love strawberries!” His voice louder than he intended - but he thinks he gets the message across, because Jungsu’s body and expression seems to relax.

“I thought you would.” He mumbles, but Seungmin catches it. 

“Really?” He questions, and Jungsu stares at him like he got caught thinking out loud. 

“Well,” he clears his throat, “yes, because you were staring, and you like sweet things. Actually - um, I’m gonna go now.” He’s blunt and abrupt, and Seungmin can’t tell if it’s because he’s flustered, or because he might be late getting back to work. He looks around the room for a bit, before patting his pockets and realising that he already put his phone inside of his jeans. 

“I’ll walk you to the front!” Seungmin offers as Jungsu is walking out of the room. 

“No need,” Jungsu turns back, “thank you for the lesson again.” And then he’s walking away again - and Seungmin is frustrated. Because he was so patient choosing flowers, but now it seems as though he can’t wait to leave. And Seungmin knows it’s probably because he needs to get back to work, but he can’t help the way his chest aches - did I say something wrong? What was it? 

And when Seungmin can’t pick up on anything odd he might’ve done (surprisingly, he doesn’t think he made a fool out of himself), he lets out a stubborn huff, grabbing a pink hydrangea and speed walking after Jungsu. Jungsu is almost out of the door when Seungmin grabs his wrist. It makes him stop, and he turns around to stare - the confusion is written all over his face. 

“Take this before you leave,” he holds the hydrangea out to Jungsu who just stares at it. 

“I couldn’t possibly -” And Seungmin cuts him off by shoving the flower into his hand. 

“It’s a souvenir,” his voice is hushed and his palms are sweaty, “to commemorate your first bouquet.” He doesn’t know if Jungsu notices the way his fingers tremble slightly. 

“If you put it like that…” he sighs, wrapping his hand around the stem, finally, “thank you. But I’ve really got to go.” 

“And thank you for the tarts.” He blurts out again, almost cutting Jungsu off.

“You’re welcome,” he hesitates for a bit, before adding, “anything else?” The question is teasing - and it makes Seungmin’s neck burn with embarrassment. I’m an idiot, aren’t I? 

“No, you can leave now.” He whispers - he thinks he might cry after this. Chasing after a guy he practically forced into his store to give him a flower. Can he be any more obvious? It’s almost painful. 

“See you tomorrow.” Jungsu smiles, gently pulling his arm out of Seungmin’s now loose grasp, and leaving.

It’s not until Jungsu has crossed the road that Seungmin feels like he can breathe again, he breathes in through his nose, audibly exhaling through his mouth, and he sinks down onto the floor next to the counter. His knees are weak. He can feel Hyeongjun’s eyes burning into him, so he meets his best friend’s gaze.

“Lovers’ Quarrel?” Hyeongjun quirks a brow at him , and Seungmin shoots him a glare. 

“Leave me alone...” 

——————

Hydrangeas: heartfelt emotions, sincerity