Chapter Text
Maybe it was cowardly of me to run away that day, to call my mom to come and get me when I couldn’t take it anymore. Rika had chattered at me for a while, sounding so similar to her old self but less bright, less… inspiring. Whatever treatment they’re doing for her there must be the big reason she was able to converse with me like it was old times, inquiring about my life and how everything was going. It was hard, pretending as though nothing was wrong about the situation when, in fact, everything was wrong. Her being there, the years of no contact...no one telling me…
The way Saeran had looked at her with a mixture of awe and fear.
My cousin, the drug dealer. Apparently the woman who had created a little ‘paradise’ for those who worked for her, keeping them dosed up on EoS instead of paying them. If not for the fact that my aunt and uncle are rich I’d wonder why her name hadn’t been all over the town. No doubt they didn’t want her tarnishing their reputation.
But it was just too much for me to handle. The knowledge that Saeran had almost killed her, what she had done, that V had helped before turning them all in. That he had lied to me.
All of them had. Not a single person had thought it worth telling me the truth. Not even my best friend.
Saeran’s eyes when I bolted had been filled with a resignation and despair that only made my response more desperate. I couldn’t look at him, at them any longer. My world had just come crashing down on me, making me question everything else about my life. I had spent so long mourning the loss of my cousin, the one who had helped me learn to be kind, less selfish. And yet there she was, brightness dulled. She’s sick, I understand that. But it didn’t make it sting any less.
When my mom had arrived it was to find me pacing outside, tears streaming down my face as I asked her to just take me home. She did so without question, without prying to try to find out what had happened. It was a good few days spent refusing to come out of my room except for meals before I brought up Rika to her.
It was a mAJ or relief to find out that neither of my parents had known about her situation, either. At least there were two people who continued to be truthful to me.
I spent the rest of January there, letting them drag me back into a familiar routine that had dictated most of my childhood. They scheduled some extra therapy appointments for me and this time I ended up on antidepressants. I was resistant at first, but eventually gave in because I couldn’t deny they were probably needed.
When February comes I make the decision to stick around longer. I’m starting to feel a little better, whether from the meds or distraction, who knows. I dread the possibility of going back to my school apartment and being alone; my thoughts are my own worst enemy. It’s easy to ignore them when mundane day-to-day activities are what occupy most of my time, but once I’m back, it’ll just be school and LOLOL… and neither are enough to distract me for long. With few friends to turn to and the one I want to see the most also the same one I’m trying to avoid, there isn’t much for me to do there.
Maybe I won’t go back until semester begins.
Maybe I won’t go back at all.
Saeran doesn’t deserve this, but I can’t bring myself to speak to him right now. He is the only person who knew that felt I deserved the knowledge that Rika… that she… That she’s still alive and that she wasn’t who I thought she was. I can understand him choosing to hide it because it’s a deep connection to a past he doesn’t want to remember, and I definitely respect him for telling me before letting me throw myself at him. Or starting a relationship with me.
It shows he cares enough to want me to have all of the cards in my hand before calling a play.
Valentine’s Day arivers without fanfare, the morning of just another dull start where I get up and start mindlessly doing some household chores. It doesn’t even occur to me what day it is until I see a bouquet of flowers on the table, beautiful and cheerful in the small kitchen. Ah. Of course dad bought some for my mom; he’s always been very on top of making sure she knows she’s loved and appreciated.
I step a little closer, curious. It’s always been a dream of mine to send flowers to someone I love, especially on Valentine’s Day. I’m not incredibly versed in flower species but I’m able to recognize the white tulips, lavender roses and purple… lilies? No, that doesn’t seem right. Carefully turning the vase it must’ve come in, I search for something, anything that would shed some light on the third flower. No such luck.
It has a lovely fragrance, though. A wistful smile stretches over my lips as I rub one of the soft petals between my fingers. Some day. Someday I can be the one to put a smile on someone’s face by a simple act like this.
“Ah! I see you found the flowers.”
A voice from behind me makes me jump in surprise and I whip around to see my dad approaching the coffee maker, one eyebrow quirked. “Uh… yeah. They’re beautiful,” I answer as he sets his cup under the spout and opens the top, inserting a small, dark red container before shutting it once more and pushing a button. There’s a quiet mechanical noise and then liquid begins to pour into the mug. Satisfied, he turns back to me with a smile.
“Aren’t they. Much more creative than just the traditional dozen of red roses, I have to say. Kudos for that.”
What an odd thing to say. I flick my gaze back to the bouquet, brows furrowed in contemplation. Is he complimenting the florist? When I look at him again, he’s making his way over to me. “Kudos…? What do you mean? Didn’t you get these for mom?”
His sudden laughter startles me, my hand bracing against the table when he stops in front of me. “You obviously didn’t notice the card that went with it.” He gestures toward a small, plain white envelope sitting nearby on the table. A single name is written on the front in spiraled handwriting: Yoosung.
Heart racing, I reach out and draw it closer to me, barely able to believe what I see. For me…?
“You know, I asked your mother and we don’t recall you mentioning anyone special in your life. There was a brief moment when we thought maybe they came from…” A hesitant pause before he continues, “Rika, so we checked out if the flowers meant anything that would indicate that. We didn’t want to open the envelope in case it was from someone else.”
“And? What did you find out?” Finally picking up the envelope, I turn it over, toying with the sealed flap in the back. I want to open it. I know it’s not from Rika, and I also know the sender never does anything without there being a specific intent behind it. Those flowers were chosen for a reason.
“Well, the lavender roses typically stand for love at first sight, so after that one we were pretty sure it couldn’t be her. White tulips are an apology, and purple irises are devotion. So, son,” he says kindly, placing a hand on my shoulder and drawing my wide-eyed stare as I attempt to process what this means, “who’s the special lady?”
“It’s not, there’s no…” Pause. Breathe. Calm down. Slipping my pinky under the open portion of the flap, I slowly open it, cherishing the sound of the paper popping apart. “It isn’t like that, dad. There’s no girl.” A simple card is enclosed, likely whatever they had in stock. Have a happy Valentine’s Day! Love, Saeran.
The hand on my shoulder disappears. “Ah.” His voice sounds heavy, almost like he’s disappointed. “Well, that’s okay. I’ll let your mother know so she doesn’t bo-“
“No!” The word echoes around the room far too loudly and we both cringe. Casting an apologetic look at him, I turn back to the flowers and gaze at them anew. Those particular meanings from Saeran… I need to see him. Now. “No, dad. I don’t have a girlfriend. But maybe, if I hurry…” Spinning around with a goofy grin on my face, I offer him the card. “I might be able to have a boyfriend!”
He takes the card in surprise, reading it over once then meeting my gaze skeptically. “A boyfriend, huh.” Glancing back down at it once more, he shrugs and smiles. “Well, if that’s what you want, go get him. You know where we are.”
-oOo-
It’s nearly 2am by the time I step out of the cab at the bottom of the apartment building. Much too late to be making a typical house call, but then again… this is hardly typical. Not a single ounce of it is typical. Not the reason I’ve been gone so long, not the reason I jumped on the first train I could, not the reason I’m standing here right now.
...okay, so maybe some of it isn’t extraordinarily special, but let me have my dramatics.
Rain pours steadily down as I rush toward the door, hoping not to get too wet before getting inside. With a bag slung over my shoulder, I step carefully to avoid puddles, breathing in relief as I reach the door. Still, I can feel the slight slosh from having wet shoes as I make my way to the elevator, refusing to stop until I have pressed the button to take me up to Saeran’s floor.
Stupid rain. Before leaving the station I’d done my best to make sure I looked extra cute but in the 20 minute drive the heavens had decided to open up and pour down their curse on me, flattening my hair to my head to make me look like a drenched dog. I didn’t even bring a jacket today; my shirt is now adhered to my chest and my jeans soaked. Hopefully he’s not disgusted by wet chic, since it’s literally the only style I’ve got right now.
Nerves flare as each floor ticks by. What if he hadn’t intended for me to come? Maybe he had sent them strictly as an apology and my dad was wrong on the meanings. He’s not infallible, after all, and Saeran could’ve just asked for a nice-looking bouquet that would let someone know he’s sorry. Choosing to send it on Valentine’s Day could very well prompt the addition of flowers that mean love, if the florist were to get carried away.
What would I do if that’s all it was? Maybe he did like me at one time, but no longer does? Just the thought of it feels like a lance through my heart and I clutch my chest at the pain. Okay, no, stop it. I won’t know until I face him and there’s no point in getting worked up about it now.
Ding!
As soon as the doors slide apart I’m in the hallway, jogging down to an all too familiar door with a literal box taped over the security box. The sight brings an amused smile to my face; seems turning off the system wasn’t enough for Saeran. He needed to hide the box of doom, too. Cute.
I lift my hand and take a breath, ready to knock. Before my knuckles have a chance to rap against the door it opens and Saeran’s got a hand around my waist, pulling me inside. Then my back is pressed up against the cold wood as it closes, a warm mouth on mine before the latch even clicks shut.
It’s clumsier than I remember but maybe that’s because I’ve romanticized our past kisses. Or it could be from the desperation and relief that feels as though it’s eking out of his pores like a pipe that’s sprung a leak, his hands grasping my hips so tightly that it feels like he might leave bruises. The door is so cold pressing against me through wet clothes but I’m willing to endure the discomfort for the man holding onto me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, who’s kissing me with a wild abandon that’s incredibly sexy. Our teeth clack a few times before his tongue slips into my mouth, searching out my own with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. Fingers dig harder into my skin as my bag falls to the ground, allowing my arms to slide around him.
“I thought I’d lost you because of my own fucking stupidity,” he murmurs when he pauses to gulp in some breaths. “Gone for months without a word… god. Figured I’d ruined the best thing to ever happen to me.” Then his lips are back on mine again, still desperate but calmer than moments earlier. I shiver as his hands begin to move, fingers dancing across the skin beneath my shirt and then over it, up to my arms and face. It feels light, exploring, maybe like he’s trying to convince himself that I’m really here.
I can relate.
The next pause is my doing. “Sorry, just n-needed time to process.” His eyes are so pretty this close, that odd mint shade that suits him so well. But there’s something more in them tonight, a sort of vulnerability I’ve never seen in them before. “It was… is… a lot to take in. But those flowers…”
“They brought you back.” Dropping one more kiss on my lips, Saeran buries his nose into my neck and releases what sounds like a strangled sob. Arms encircle my chest and hold me tightly as warm breath washes against my skin. “Back to me. You didn’t leave, you came back…”
“I just went to see my parents. I’ll always come back.” I’m not entirely certain what exactly is going on in his mind, so I just hold him, letting him shiver against me as more sobs occasionally break free. Eventually he sighs and presses a few gentle kisses to my neck, dropping his arms and stepping back.
“You’re soaked.” Wrinkling his nose, he eyes me a moment before glancing at his own clothes. “...and now so am I. Great.”
There’s the unsettling feeling of my shirt attempting to stick to the door when I stand, and I reach around to tug it completely loose, chuckling. “Well, it is raining outside and it’s not like you gave me much of a chance to warn you.”
“Hmm, no. Guess this is my fault.” Shrugging, Saeran reaches down and pulls his T-shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor. The look he gives me is entirely too amused when he notices my face heating up as he slides his thumbs into the waistband of his pj pants. “What? If I remember right, best way to prevent hypothermia is to strip the wet clothes and cuddle, yeah?” Tugging them down, he snickers at my nod. God, he’s hot. And standing in front of me in nothing but boxers.
“Your turn,” he whispers, stepping closer and beginning to lift up my shirt. Raising my arms, I can feel the rapid thumping of my heart in disbelief and excitement. Next he’s fiddling with the button on my jeans, dropping wet kisses to my stomach. “It’s okay, cutie. Just cuddling to warm you up tonight, I promise.” A glint of mischief appears in his eyes as he pushing them down, kisses dropping down to just above the top of my boxers. “No guarantees about tomorrow, though…”
Tomorrow. Tomorrow that I will spend with Saeran. And the day after that. Cuddling under blankets, watching movies, playing games, whatever.
It’s real. After all this time, after everything that’s happened…
“Are you my boyfriend now?” God, why!? Horrified, I clamp a hand over my mouth but all he does is look up at me in surprise from where he’s kneeled, untying my shoes. “S-sorry. Never mind. That was dumb.”
A low laugh rumbles through him as he finishes the last shoe, pulling it off and setting it to the side with my socks and jeans. Then he stands, the soft touch of his hand guiding me in close. “If that’s what you want me to be, then yes.”
I’m not sure a kiss has ever tasted so sweet.