Chapter Text
“rain, rain go away. come again another, ooh another day.” headphones weren’t necessary inside xoxo flowers when yunho was crooning to san and the flowers. the classical music was still playing, combining yunho’s offbeat harmonies with mozart. collab of the year. april showers drenching the world outside the shop causes san to yawn, leaning against his broomstick. it was the end of another workday. what an exhausting week it’s been, too- the start of it was marked by euikon’s double bouquet request (boo tomato) and meeting yeosang (everyone cheers). when he told yunho what happened, the taller mourned the missed opportunity. in his words, it’s a “huge bummer” that san won’t get to experience an “epic love story” with yeosang who he’s “super interested in” and can’t “suck on his abs.” unfortunately, no ab sucking was in san’s future. epic love story fantasies aside, yeosang is a taken man he’s only seen once. rationally, he knows that and completely respects it. desperation must be getting to him, he really needs a date if a single meeting got him that delirious. appreciating objective, aesthetic beauty in the most platonic way can’t possibly go wrong, though.
the day winds with their shifts ten minutes away from the weekend. san and yunho were tidying up the messes from today, since, shockingly, hours spent playing with the flowers causes a ruckus. heightened when one (choi san) is drowsy (why can’t it rain at night when he’s struggling to get some shut eye instead). plus, preliminary interviews for the florist job were beginning next week. a lot was happening and his mind was obviously scattered, jumping from topic to topic.
although he usually enjoys the dull ache in his muscles after a long day, the rain pelting outside was lulling him to go home, cuddle with spinach, and sleep. the vibrant pink of his shirt dims against the gray reflecting off the transparent walls of xoxo flowers. it was the owner’s choice to have a completely transparent structure of glass walls for the flowers to get as much natural light as possible. think like an upgraded fancy greenhouse with impeccable decor. this, while stunning, exposed san to the lullaby of pitter patters above and around him.
“this weather makes me so sleepy.” he admits while discarding the full dustpan. not much was left for him to do, other than wiping down the register.
“what are you talking about, san? i could dance a jig in this weather.” his friend looked ready to prove it.
san chokes out a laugh, already getting a vivid image of yunho doing just that in the rain. terrifically, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. odorless cleaning solution is sprayed all over the counter with one hand before he wipes aggressive circles into it. spick and span shine is what he’s left with. satisfied with the extreme cleanliness he achieved, he focuses back on his partner in crime.
“i’d like to see you tr-”
flashbacks to monday resurface when the bells chime in that knowing way and the smell of stiff cologne enters with them. now there’s a face he didn’t expect or want to see again.
(yes the cologne was stiff. like a soggy twig. which wasn’t technically stiff but the soggy twig is bang euikon.)
euikon strides to the counter, carelessly shaking out his umbrella onto the floor that san just finished sweeping. the cleaning supplies are quickly tucked underneath as san checks the time. they still had five minutes until closing, dammit. luck wasn’t on his side today. any previous sleepiness is shot out of him as he straightens his posture, greeting the unwelcome guest.
“hello and welcome to xoxo flowers! what can i-”
like he did multiple times on monday when he was here, euikon interrupts san, “you’re the one who helped me last time! i just have to say thank you man, he lost his shit over the note.” is that supposed to be…positive? “i want to do a repeat order. same bouquet, you write your little lovey dovey notes, and deliver them every monday.” apparently, it is. his wallet was already unsheathed.
“would you like two rose quartz b-”
alumni of rude university cuts in once more, “no, one bouquet for yeosang every monday. make sure the notes are different every time.”
what did euikon take him for- of course the notes have to be different. especially when you’re dating a greek god. frustration prickles at his skin as he waits an extra second for euikon to finish his sentence so he can try to get a word in.
“you would like repeat flower deliveries of one rose quartz bouquet with a customized note every monday to kang yeosang, is that right?”
(hallelujah! san spoke a full sentence!)
“uh-huh, here.” as if san was a cash depository, euikon throws the money down without a respectful glance, a thank you, a promise of sending his finest livestock over for gratitude- nothing. aching to ask more questions about this arrangement, san’s jaw is left in the open state while euikon departs from xoxo flowers, drops of water on his trail.
“that was pleasant.” says san sarcastically, running an exasperated hand through his hair. already, the clock scaled past the closing hour, rushing san to turn the sign on the door to prevent anymore intrusions.
“he is such a loser!” yunho brings the mop over, cleaning up the puddles euikon generously splashed on their floor. this time he was witness to euikon’s rushed entry and exit. he put a hand on his hips, brows knitted, “i don’t like him. how the heck did he get two guys to fall for him?”
to get a testimony like that from the ever so patient jeong yunho validated san’s feelings toward euikon further. there was no choice to be had, though. xoxo flowers employee code strictly prohibits from denying any patrons, and definitely from meddling with their personal matters. so unless euikon were to swing in here on a wrecking ball set to destroy the shop, san was out of luck trying to get rid of him.
/
saturday is the perfect day to do chores. with the house to himself, yeosang rises bright and early to clean every room. euikon has a demanding job that doesn’t cut slack, even on weekends, and yeosang is understanding of that. after all, his boyfriend was patient with him for the year that they were dating long distance when he was pursuing his degree back home. they grew up in the same hometown, but romance didn’t spark between them until yeosang was well into university. shortly following establishing themselves as an official couple, euikon accepted a job offer in seoul and at the time, yeosang presumed they would need to end their relationship before it really began. a gentle smile lifts at the corners of his mouth when he remembers how adamant euikon was on making it work. an entire year was spent virtually together, making ambitious plans for yeosang to move to seoul, move in with euikon, and not one stumble stopped from making it happen. because of that, yeosang gets to live under the same roof as someone he loves, all for free. it was a no-brainer.
he was always patient with yeosang, about everything.
which is why even though his partner is swamped with work weekdays and weekends alike, yeosang simply tries to make home as comfortable as he can for him. even if they don’t get to go on dates all over seoul. even if yeosang eats dinner alone most evenings. even if…all of that, he would be patient in return with him. save for the busy schedule given to euikon by his higher ups, their relationship is still on the same wavelength of stability as it was when they met. he couldn’t ask for more.
cleaning passes the day in a shutter, and that’s with the break that yeosang took for his weekly facetime with wooyoung, his closest friend from back home. their own busy lives couldn’t keep them away from updating one another each saturday, no matter what obstacles popped up. if yeosang doesn’t text him back, wooyoung accuses him of betraying their friendship. he’s a keeper, as his mother would say. he really couldn’t ask for more.
yet yeosang can’t deny the feeling of loneliness that seeps in as he starts cooking his dinner for one. he always made extra, just in case euikon came home hungry while he slept. the extra food did end up in the same place for days, untouched, but who wants to eat leftovers after a difficult day? yeosang can’t blame him. one look at the luscious bouquet sent by euikon made up for his absence throughout the week. taking another read of the note, yeosang’s heart bounces in his chest, trying to escape. he didn’t realize how much his boyfriend liked his birthmark. it makes him tuck his hair behind his ear, only for it to fall over it. he takes a hair clip with a flustered emoji on it, securing his hair back into place and putting the red marking on display.
just as he sets up the table with his plate and sides, the jingling of keys at the door has him perking up. internal excitement bubbles in his stomach, he doesn’t have to eat alone tonight.
“yeosang? i’m home and starving. please tell me you made some food.”
“yeah, welcome home!” he meets euikon at the door, soft smile at the helm.
euikon takes a seat first while yeosang brings an additional plate, listening to him recount details about his day with attentive nods. he shuffles onto the stool next to him, still listening. anytime now he’s sure to notice the difference- yeosang rarely shows his birthmark, even at home. but their meal is eaten silently once euikon is done talking. and with the same quickness, he puts his plate in the sink far before yeosang is halfway through his food. to be fair, he did have a long day and a long week, he came home hungry, that would disorient anyone. yeosang shrugs it off as he prepares to wash the dishes.
lost in his drifting thoughts elsewhere, he gets startled when he feels a pair of arms wrap around him from behind. a freshly showered euikon surprised him with a tight hold. he squeaks, but continues to wash the dishes. their plans didn’t align, as euikon turned him by the chin enough for a kiss. it doesn’t take long for yeosang’s neck to ache from the position, gripped and trapped between his boyfriend and the counter. he pulls back, surprised, but makes no other movement.
“why are you playing hard to get?” says euikon from the crook of yeosang’s neck, breath fanning out with each word. yeosang doesn’t understand.
“what do you mean?”
rather than talking, euikon grabs yeosang’s shoulder to face him. the water is running behind them as he initiates a rough make out session. a bit overwhelming at first, but he tries to ease into it. there’s no time to. he focuses again on yeosang’s neck, hand sliding down to grope him. that’s when yeosang clears his throat, pushing euikon off firmly.
quietly, he says, “let’s…let’s stop now.” without looking up to see his boyfriend’s reaction.
“you always do this. every fucking time.” it was the first time that euikon had snapped at him like that, and yeosang couldn’t figure out why. fortunately (?) euikon enlightens him, “i know you said you’re not ready but yeosang. you’re turning twenty-four, do you plan on staying a virgin your whole life? at some point you’re gonna have to grow up.”
the bitter irritation creases his forehead. it definitely isn’t like him to be angry, leaving yeosang to wonder how long this has been threatening to boil over. the topic had come up once or twice before, cordially, nowhere near the disappointed look he’s being given. yeosang would be lying if he said the comments didn’t tear at his insides, just a little bit. maybe a lot.
words stack into unspeakable messes. three shaky breaths later, yeosang replies, “no i just- i don’t want to yet.”
euikon kicks the stool, “but why not? i’m starting to think you don’t love me anymore.” the sadness trailing off his voice hurts yeosang further.
“i’m so sorry…” apologies spill out of yeosang one after the other. embarrassed and guilty, he doesn’t know how to dispel his partner of those fears- the person who’s been this patient with him, even when it comes to intimacy. all he can give him is a repeat of the same answer, in different words, “i do care about you. so much. eventually i will get there, but not now. i just…i just don’t feel ready for that yet.”
“yeah, okay.”
abruptly, like a candle’s flame caught between fingers, everything returns to the way yeosang is used to. it takes a few minutes before euikon apologizes and gives him a pat on his bicep, reassuring him that he understands and that it wasn’t a problem. that it was the stress of his job catching up to him and he took it out on him. then he retreats to their bedroom, just like that. yeosang wants to believe him, to believe in him, so he accepts the apology. still, he’s standing alone in the kitchen well into the night, trying to comprehend what happened.
/
the second bouquet that san delivers to yeosang makes him even happier than the first one, like his hope in humanity was restored. xoxo flowers did have powerful bouquets, san just wasn’t aware of how powerful. initially, he dreaded having to make this delivery, but as it turns out, yeosang is an absolute joy to talk to. it starts with a brief chat about the weather, that time.
(yes, san liked it and no, it’s not the most generic topic in the world.)
the third bouquet brings san the knowledge that yeosang has been in seoul for only six months, and it floors him. six months and he was already living with euikon? that being said, no mention of euikon was made during their little chats. small talk isn’t something he seeks outside of his floral side manner- or at least it wasn’t until recently.
it’s at the fourth bouquet that the notes he writes for yeosang begin to sound a little too real for san’s liking. he’s beginning to write from a place of genuine endearment and there isn’t an emergency code for that. the pen name of euikon (gag) soured his tastes at the end of his fond writings.
today, on bouquet number four, is the day the sky decides to play a prank on him, apparently. one raindrop falls squarely on his eyelashes, then brings its friends to join. an unprecedented spring shower in the middle of his conversation with yeosang forces a disappointed sigh out of him. delivering flowers in the rain is never ideal, even the bouquets have a protective wrap for the occasion. usually, he’s able to miss the prime rain predictions and plan his route around them, but he can’t account for the random bouts like this one. he looks up at the rain distastefully.
he can’t resist grumbling to yeosang about the inconvenience. the sun isn’t too far off in the distance, so it should be a passing shower (allegedly). it seems that yeosang doesn’t miss the disappointed grunt following the sigh, prompting him to clear the entrance.
“do you want to come in until the rain stops, san…?”
(san must be talking to the last trusting person left on earth to get an invitation inside.)
he walks right in, gratitude weighing a little fold in each cheek.
inside the lion’s den! or the butterfly’s dwelling.
yeosang’s home has his touch on every object in sight. if he didn’t know that he lives with euikon, san would’ve assumed yeosang was in seoul solo. a laptop sat beside papers and pens on a small foldable desk in front of the longer couch. one of the rose quartz bouquets, san assumes last week’s, is hanging on for dear life over the edges of vase. in murky water.
“i’ll make us some tea.” yeosang offers with sparkles in his eyes that were, no doubt, given to him by adoring fairies. it almost distracts san from the state of the wilting flowers. almost. the new bouquet is in yeosang’s arms, making its way into the kitchen with him and san can’t stand by for it to meet the same as last week’s. he can’t, it’s an unspoken rule between flowers and florists.
there isn’t a frequent opportunity for san to see what happens to bouquets after they’re delivered, considering most people don’t ask for repeat orders in close intervals. when he expresses the flowers are wilting to yeosang, he admits he doesn’t know how to care for flowers outside of the bouquet. so, he turns to get permission from yeosang, who’s focused on preparing their tea. there he was, with a cup overflowing in the sink. the realization hits yeosang moments within san looking at him that he had grabbed a cup instead of the kettle.
“oh- oops, i wasn’t thinking.” his faces pretzels with embarrassment and san tries not to laugh from endearment. it’s wrong, he knows it’s wrong, so he opts for an exaggerated grin with dimples taking the center stage.
“i’ll use that water!”
san gets to work on saving the new bouquet from the previous one’s fate. warm water fills from the cup the vase, with an appropriate amount of flower food, the stems are promptly trimmed and put into their new home. he doesn’t realize until then that yeosang had been watching him.
yunho once told san that (insert quotes because san doesn’t have this exuberant wisdom) the most erotic thing a man can do is be good at something. and he was damn good at working with flowers.
what takes the prize for these circumstances, however? without competition, it’s yeosang asking about what san just did, eyes wide and pretty. about how he cut the stems rapidly. about why he used the warm water. about how long the flowers would last with this “spa treatment.” he answers each one with the world zeroing in on kang yeosang keenly. forget maslow’s hierarchy of needs, answering yeosang’s questions is the hierarchy.
for the sake of composition and professionalism, he lets his own eyes wander only when he finishes answering and therefore satisfying the pyramid, to the fridge behind yeosang. there hangs a drawing under a pineapple magnet. if he had to guess, he would say it’s a drawing of yeosang. green crayon is the main tool used to draw the likeness of yeosang with a misspelled version of his name in roughly colored bubble letters.
“mr. gang, huh?”
(the epitome of poetic language and clever questions over here.)
a soft chuckle from yeosang electrocutes san (no, seriously- science should look into that), “ah, one of my students drew it for me. i teach kindergarten.”
get the marriage papers out. immediately.
now the dots connected. the glitter, the scraps of paper, why he’s home in the afternoon- the neon flashing green flag that is yeosang is a kindergarten teacher. he’s checking off boxes that san didn’t know he had in bright green crayon. missing the ‘single’ part, though.
in spite of himself and his lingering thoughts laced with delight, san sits down for tea with yeosang like they’ve known each other for years. yet the exhilaration that comes with getting to knit a new connection, stitches coming closer with progressing conversation, pirouettes around the feeling of familiarity.
yeosang holds his cup with both hands as he sips. san listens to yeosang talk. starting with the drawing that was made during art class. they roll into tales of chaos within the classroom during said art class, especially how the kids get around glitter, mumblings of “i caught one of them trying to steal an entire jar after school last month-” and when caught sparkly handed, “she dumped it on me and ran away!” so that’s where the chunk of glitter on his nose came from. san remembers it, his nose instinctively scrunching. still, yeosang speaks fondly of his classroom as if protecting a piece of his heart.
in san’s job, there are few kids he has to encounter. back home, there were his little cousins always made themselves known, similar to the kindergarteners. yeosang listens to san talk. is san so deprived of friendship in seoul that he’s clinging to the first person outside of xoxo flowers who’s going to listen? desperation always makes for a nice excuse. but yeosang makes him gather effort to put into getting to know him, unlike the passing faces he’s met before. not that any face has come close to yeosang’s, holy hell. not many have a heart that would shelter a flowery delivery boy from rain, either.
when the rain stops tapping on the window behind the lounge sofa they were sitting on, san misses having a reason to stay. the tea takes its leave, too, reminding san that now is the time to return to deliveries. back to modern time and not a hall of athens sitting across from a greek god.
“well, it looks like the rain stopped.” he stands up, followed by yeosang, attention caught on the wilting flowers that he saw walking in. their conversation makes a full circle as he takes it into his hands, offering it to the other with mischief crinkling the corners of his eyes, “you should take this in for the next art class. have them go crazy with glitter and dying flowers.” it sounds silly after it’s said aloud- even kindergarteners have standards higher than playing with dead flowers (maybe?), but yeosang thoughtfully nods and san believes he could make it happen.
“i’ll see what i can do and show you next time.”
he likes next time.
yeosang even walks him to the door with a sweetened warmth tugging his lips into a smile. san returns it, thanking him (for existing) again for the invite inside.
“see you, san!”
(oh euikon, you idiotic fool of a moronic imbecile.)