Chapter Text
Living in the heart of a small town, there is very little that Hanbin doesn't notice from the window of her flower shop. She serves her usual clientele, newly engaged couples commissioning bouquets for their weddings, blushing teenagers asking for roses, even the sombre-faced mourners requesting stands to be delivered to churches. She knows all the shops and their owners on the little street, the hunched over ahjussi and his daughter who ran the store full of knick knacks, the eccentric couple's bakery where one would surely find their wide eyed teenager helping behind the counter, the tiny bookstore run by one of the few queer couples in the area. Things were quiet and hardly ever changed.
Until of course, Hanbin notes, the previous winter, where the empty two-storey shophouse opposite hers had been marked sold. Where, throughout winter, she quietly observed a short figure making their way in and out of the yet-to-be opened shop, arms full of boxes, no doubt the owner moving in. Where now, on a particularly cold and rainy spring morning, the shop is proudly opened, jars of ingredients lining the glass window display. Where now, a very cold and sick Hanbin makes her way up the doorstep, a giant arrangement in hand.
Her morning had started poorly, first waking up with a bad cold from the weather. Then, she had nicked her hand while removing the thorns from a fresh batch of roses. The final straw came in the form of a call from her supplier, who told her that the shipment of calla lilies she so painstakingly had to order from Holland, had somehow gotten held up at customs, and may not reach her in time to still be fresh enough for sale. The frustration was enough to make her close up shop early, where she sulked over the cut on her hand, her leaking nose and the almost unnoticeable (to anyone else) lack of calla lilies in her shop.
Despite the nonstop onslaught of misfortunes that befell her in the morning, the lull of the neighbouring shop gently coaxed her out of that temporary slump. Whether it was due to curiosity or something else, not too long after closing shop for the day, she found herself busying herself with picking out sprigs of blooms, slowly but surely, forming a bouquet. Starting off with orange dahlias seemed appropriate, then the goldenrods gently called to her and she added it to the bouquet. A pink carnation or two never hurt anybody, did it? And maybe if Hanbin felt that no bouquet was complete without baby's breath, she'd keep that to herself. Lastly, a select few roses, the same ones that had given Hanbin the cut in the morning. As she examined her work, she begrudgingly admitted to herself that the bouquet was definitely bigger than something she’d give a regular, paying , customer, let alone to a stranger as a gift. But there it was again, the gentle tugging in her chest, the gentle lull of the neighbouring shop that somehow convinced her that what she was doing was right, that it was okay. A silent reassurance that was equal parts soothing and tingly. Hoisting the bouquet up in one arm, she covered her head from the patter of rain and made her way across the street.
💐🫖
The first thing she notices when she steps into the shop is the light aroma of various florals and spices that settle lightly in her bones, releasing tension in her shoulders that she wasn’t even aware she had. Glass jars filled with blends of dried petals and leaves line the walls, each sporting a paper label with neat cursive. A counter, with more kettles, tea sets, china teacups and mugs lined on it than Hanbin has seen in her life. And then the door for what is presumably a storage room opens, and Hanbin’s jaw goes slack, because out steps what Hanbin would call, a glorious specimen of a woman, who definitely does not look like someone who would own a tea shop. A tank top and apron, showing off well-built arms swirled with tattoos, dusty blonde hair cropped into a pixie cut that just goes over her ears, and a fucking lip piercing. Hanbin laughs, a nervous squeak, and the woman turns to her and smiles with a foxlike grin, and Hanbin just has to sneeze at that very moment, giant bouquet dropping to the floor.
“My God, are you okay?” The woman rushes over to Hanbin with a giggle, sweeping the giant bouquet up in her arms from the floor, still looking at Hanbin with that damn apple smile. As Hanbin rapidly flushes, she notices a few things in quick succession. One, the lilting accent that tinges the woman’s speech, slurring the ends of syllables. Two, the fact that the woman is almost half a head shorter than her, sparkling eyes looking up at Hanbin. Three, the tiny hand that brings out a tissue from seemingly nowhere, dabbing away at Hanbin’s leaking nose. Hanbin flushes even harder now, jumping away from the woman with a yelp, startling the other woman briefly, but just as quickly, she is looking at Hanbin with that coy smile again.
“Not okay then,” the woman laughs, first setting the bouquet down on the shop counter, then extending her palm to Hanbin. “Seok Woohye, but you can call me Maddy.” Maddy , a foreign name, so she must have lived overseas for most of her life , Hanbin thinks to herself. That explained the accent. Hanbin, finally regaining her senses, but not her complexion, took Maddy’s hand in her own.
“Hanbin. Sung Hanbin. I, uh, run the florist’s just across,” she motioned to the flowers, “I arranged that, as a gift? I hope you like it.” Hanbin dimly registered the feeling of Maddy’s hand against hers, a tiny and soft palm on her bigger, more callused one. Graciously, Maddy finally let go of Hanbin’s hand, earnestly smiling at Hanbin.
“I do, it must have taken you ages,” Maddy muses, making her way behind the counter, “How about some tea, Hanbin-ssi? As thanks.” Something about how Maddy smiled so earnestly at Hanbin melted her heart. She thus found herself sitting down at one of the wooden tables in the store, listening to Maddy talk about her life as she flitted around the store, expertly picking out ingredients from the jars around the store and mixing them into a blend. When the tea was finally brewed, Maddy bounded over with two steaming mugs and a pot set on a tray, sliding into the seat next to Hanbin’s.
“So, Maddy, where are you from?”
“Canada!”
“And what brings you here? This town is pretty small…”
“Oh, I go where I’m needed most.” Maddy grinned, taking a sip of her tea. Hanbin stopped, questioningly raising an eyebrow.
“Where you’re needed most? What do you mean?”
Dismissively, Maddy waved her hand, clicking her tongue. “Hard to explain. So, Hanbin-ssi, how long have you run your flower shop?”
“Well, it used to be owned by my parents, and about three years ago I took over for good. I was twenty then. They weren’t too happy about it at first, but the shop’s doing well, so they really aren’t opposed to it anymore.” Hanbin smiles softly, recalling when she first started to help out at the shop as a teenager.
With a glint in her eye, Maddy grins back at Hanbin, nudging her arm. “Twenty then, hm? So you’re twenty-three now. I’m twenty- one, so that makes you my unnie.”
Immediately, Hanbin feels her face flush again. It's a simple honorific, something that she hears on a daily basis, but hearing it come from this girl she has barely met but yet feels so comfortable with tugs something within her. It's the same tugging that prompted her to make the bouquet, the same tugging that pulled her towards adding roses into the arrangement. She has no idea what it's meant to mean, but the uncertainty does not mean uneasiness. Somehow, it settles more along the lines of comfort.
As Hanbin is left still blushing over the simple honorific, Maddy makes her way behind the counter again. Finishing her tea, Hanbin watches as Maddy expertly measures the same ingredients used for the blend they just enjoyed, packing the ingredients neatly into a tin.
“I do usually sell pre-made blends, you know, stuff like your breakfast tea, but I usually prefer to make my blends on the spot,” Maddy explains, “if I like them enough, I start selling them more. Adding them to a catalogue, if you want to see it that way. Every blend is different, but I always add the same little secret ingredient in them.” Saying this, Maddy presents the tin of packed tea ingredients to Hanbin, wrapped in ribbons the same colour of the bouquet Hanbin gave her. Graciously, Hanbin accepts the tin, looking up at Maddy, cocking her head to the side.
“What would that be then, Maddy?” Hanbin asks, meeting her smile with one of her own. Maddy only smiles wider.
“A little magic, my dear Hanbin.” Hanbin lets out a chuckle at this, meeting Maddy’s responding grin.
“I’ll take your word for it then, dear. Thank you kindly for the tea.” Hanbin opens the door to the shop, looking up at the now clear sky.
“And thank you kindly for the bouquet and company, Hanbin. I hope to see you more.” Maddy responds with an exaggerated theatrical bow, once again making Hanbin burst into laughter as she bids her goodbyes.
As Hanbin ponders her meeting with Maddy as she walks back to her shop, she doesn’t notice how not only is her cold gone, the cut on her hand is also fully healed over, the only trace of it ever being there being a faint rose scent clinging to her fingers.