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In preparation for the life cycles science unit that spring, Seungcheol had thought planting a garden would be a constructive way to turn the empty planter outside the classroom into something useful. It had been sitting there filled with dried old dirt since the day Seungcheol started, and more than once he had caught students trying to throw their juice boxes in it for target practice when they thought his back was turned.
“That’s a cute idea,” mused Joshua as Seungcheol picked up the kids from music class. His expression quickly shifted to something more puckish. “Do you know anything about gardening, Mister Choi?”
Seungcheol pursed his lips, “I guess I’m just gonna have to cross that bridge when I get to it,” he said, motioning for the students to follow him back to the classroom. His only real gardening experience was digging holes for his mom to plant seeds in as a kid, and that one time she gave him a cactus which he somehow managed to kill, and another time when he bought himself a desktop terrarium for which the total liar of a sales clerk told him how easy it would be to care for (just water it once a week! She said. Seungcheol later found himself grieving over a trashcan as he scraped the dried husks out of the bowl), but really how hard could it be?
The next morning, Joshua knocked on the window of Mister Choi’s door before school began, and Seungcheol looked up to see him wiggling two cups of coffee in his hands. He got up from his seat to let him in. “Good morning,” he smiled warmly, “why is your door locked? It’s freezing outside.”
“I don’t want kids coming in here before the bell rings,” Seungcheol replied, gratefully taking the coffee Joshua handed to him. “Thanks. They always try to claw their way in on cold mornings and I made the mistake of letting a few of them in early just once.” Seungcheol winced at the memory of Seokmin, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan wildly flinging their backpacks at each other the previous week while Junhui and Chan cowered under a desk.
“Fair enough,” Joshua said, sitting himself down on the edge of Seungcheol’s desk as the other settled back into his chair. “So I thought about what you said yesterday and I can help you get your garden started if you want?”
His eyes widened with a ‘mm’ of interest as he took a sip. “You know how to garden?”
“I grow some herbs at home,” he answered. Joshua was always understatedly cool in the way he spoke, which used to make Seungcheol think he had something up his sleeve until he got to know him better and realized that he was just a weird, goofy person with a charming exterior. Perfect for a music teacher, Seungcheol thought.
“Do you mean like, weed?” Seungcheol asked, gracelessly.
Without changing his expression, Joshua eyed him over the lid of his cup. “I mean like rosemary and basil, you loser.”
Seungcheol chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “You can never be sure with you California boys.”
“So that’s a no on help with the garden, then.” Joshua tutted and made to slip off the desk before Seungcheol laid a desperate hand at his knee.
“No, god, please help me,” he begged. “I was thinking it could have fruits or vegetables? Something with good visual growth so the kids can observe.”
The patio outside the door began to bustle as students trickled over to hang up their backpacks before the bell rang. Joshua slid elegantly off the desk with a smile and headed toward the back door. “I’ll see what I can do.”
On any given afternoon, one could usually find Seungcheol in his classroom adding flourishes to the walls to showcase the students’ work from the day or thinking vaguely about what he was going to do the following morning. Meticulous preparation wasn’t really his forte; he’d say he was more of a wait-and-see-what-the-day-brings kind of teacher, using the curriculum handbook as a general compass. That Thursday afternoon, however, Seungcheol found himself with his sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbows while he plunged a spade through two feet of what felt like ancient dirt.
Joshua rounded the corner with a bag of fertilizer in his arms, setting it down with an ‘oof’ next to the planter. “Find anything interesting in there?”
“Just some useless chest filled with gold but I figured I’d just chuck it,” he mused, then shifted his attention to the fertilizer. “I could’ve gotten that for you.” He looked up with an apology in his expression, to which Joshua waved a dismissive hand.
“I’m tougher than I look,” Joshua replied, scrunching his face in feigned cockiness and giving a self-congratulatory pat to his slender bicep. “Speaking of tough,” he redirected, “looks like the soil is loose enough for the fertilizer. Do you mind?” He gestured to the bag and Seungcheol didn’t hesitate to hoist it onto the edge of the planter to start pouring.
“I told all the kids about the garden but they weren’t as excited as I was hoping,” Seungcheol said, scrunching his nose as the fertilizer sifted out over the other's hands.
Joshua offered a sympathetic glance, “maybe they just need to see it with their own eyes, you know?”
“Yeah, maybe,” he replied. “I just want them to like it.” In the silence of their stirring, he could see Joshua smiling gently to himself. “What’s so funny?” he jabbed.
“Nothing,” Joshua said, suspiciously casual. He looked back up at him from the dirt and wiped his falling bangs to the side, “you’re just dedicated is all. It’s sweet.” Cute was the word he had originally thought, but refrained from letting it slip so as not to have to bury his head in the dirt to avoid direct eye contact with said cute man himself.
Seungcheol puffed up ever so slightly. “It’s less sweet and more that I’d hate for us to have to dig in a literal shithole for nothing.” He flicked a clump from under his nails for emphasis, then returned to making small pits for Joshua to place the plants into.
“The garden has been planted!” Seungcheol practically glittered as he delivered the news at the start of the science block. “We’ve got basil, eggplant, strawberries, squash, and tomatoes, but they won’t grow by themselves so we’re going to need some helpers.” Joshua had suggested that Seungcheol let the kids take care of the garden- “It’s more interactive! Isn’t that what you want anyway?” he had said, goading him perfectly, to which Seungcheol shakily agreed because honestly how could he say no to that face and a challenge?
He prompted the class, “so what do plants need to grow up strong?”
“Milk!” Hansol blurted from his spot on the rug.
“That’s for bones,” Seungcheol pointed out helpfully, making a mental note to check on Hansol’s science notebook more carefully from then on. Hansol grinned and sagely nodded his head. “Good thinking, though. What do plants need?”
Wonwoo raised his hand. “Water and oxygen,” he presented, quiet but confident nonetheless. “And sunlight.”
Seungcheol pointed an impressed finger his way, “exactly!” It was always a special feeling when Seungcheol could get his less-readily compliant students to tune in to the lessons, especially when they were as bright as Wonwoo. Seungcheol still felt as though he had something to prove as a new teacher, that he could tap into whatever made these kids unique and instill a love of learning while also setting his spot as Favorite Childhood Teacher in stone for each one; really it didn’t seem like so much to ask for.
He jumped on the opportunity to set his plan in motion. “Wonwoo do you want to be the first person on watering duty?” Wonwoo, with a notoriously unchanging expression, nodded his head and returned his attention to picking at a spot on the rug. Seungcheol smiled gratefully and began grabbing names written on popsicle sticks to determine the rest of the lineup for watering duty.
He pulled Wonwoo aside for the fifteen minutes before lunch to show him what to do with the garden. Carefully, he extracted two plastic watering cans tall enough to reach to the boy’s scrawny knees from under the sink counter.
“We need to fill up four watering cans for a planter this size,” Seungcheol said in his most encouraging voice. Wonwoo nodded and rose to his tiptoes to place the can under the spigot as Seungcheol started the water. “Hold it with two hands,” he instructed, lifting the full can out of the sink and handing it to Wonwoo, who rolled up his sleeves and gathered his strength to carry it outside without spilling.
“Where are the fruits n stuff?” He asked, still holding the watering can with fading vigor.
“They were only planted yesterday so they haven’t grown yet,” Seungcheol said matter-of-factly.
“Oh.”
Wonwoo, after gently assessing the situation, raised the can to start pouring over the edge of the planter. He didn’t do so without great difficulty, Seungcheol noted, as he quickly reacted to the subtle wobble in his knees with a stabilizing hand on the bottom of the can. Maybe he should get a step ladder? Jihoon might have one, Seungcheol thought, quickly shaking his head. Somewhere, somehow, Jihoon had magically heard that thought and was sharpening the knives.
After four quiet rounds of watering, Wonwoo finally spoke up, “Mister Choi, how long until we see something?”
Seungcheol took one of the cans from Wonwoo’s hands. “We might see something in about a week? I’ll check with Mister Hong but I think the strawberries won’t take very long.”
Wonwoo nodded and swung the watering can back and forth as they walked back to the front door of the classroom together, inevitably flinging the remaining drops of water from the spout back at the two of them. Seungcheol sputtered, and Wonwoo, old stone face himself, let out an impossibly cherubic giggle that had Seungcheol melting on the spot as he opened the door and followed him inside.
They had been working on the garden together for some weeks after the interest from the rest of the class began to wane in favor of watching their caterpillars turn into chrysali. The strawberry (and he noted it only as the strawberry, singular, as the only other one growing was still a tiny green nub) was small and impossibly red when he happened a glance at the planter on his way to the classroom that morning. It was just as exciting for Seungcheol as it was for Wonwoo by that point; the literal fruits of their labor (namely Wonwoo swatting Mingyu’s hands away whenever he got too close. “Don’t touch them, Mango, they’re still babies!” he had warned to Mingyu’s dejected and confused expression) were finally coming to fruition (“fruit-ition ” was the word Seungcheol used when telling Joshua about it, much to Joshua’s dismay).
The class still occasionally peeked their heads around the building corner to see how the garden was doing, but really the planter had become less of a class garden and more Wonwoo’s garden, therefore making the strawberry growing on the vine Wonwoo’s strawberry, and Seungcheol rushed into conversation with him about it as he stepped into the room that morning.
“Did you see the fully grown strawberry in the garden?”
Wonwoo blinked. “No?”
“Well it’s ready to be picked!” He pushed with teacherly enthusiasm.
“Oh! Cool.” He was clearly not giving Seungcheol the reaction he had been hoping for (it’s not every day you influence life on Earth, kid, how about a little celebratory fanfare or a drink to mark the occasion? Again, Seungcheol did not concern himself with how inappropriate that might have been in the moment) but regardless, he seemed cheerful and sauntered out with Seungcheol to check.
Seungcheol relished the moments when he could selfishly partake in showing Wonwoo how special and careful he could be. He plucked the strawberry from its stem with garnered delicacy and begrudgingly posed for a photo before placing it in his mouth. The look on his face was, and Seungcheol made an effort not to be dramatic when he thought this but, utterly and breathtakingly life altering. “Well?” He probed. “Is it any good?”
“It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever eaten,” Wonwoo replied, nodding his head with a rejuvenating smile as Seungcheol beamed back at him.
The days started to defrost as they entered Spring, and Seungcheol found himself sharing coffees with Joshua before school more often than not.
“The garden seems to be doing well,” Joshua pointed out. “You’ve got like a million little tomatoes now.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking it might be enough for a Bloody Mary.”
Joshua hummed into his sip, “we should’ve planted some celery.”
Seungcheol grinned, wide and unguarded as he hunched over the table and propped his chin on the top of the travel mug. “You should’ve seen Wonwoo protecting the strawberries. He called them babies, Shua, it doesn’t get cuter than that.”
“I can’t believe you’re a grandad,” Joshua poked, but quickly corrected himself, “actually you know what? You’ve got a rocking chair in here so what am I saying.”
“You wouldn’t make fun of it if you actually sat in it.”
Joshua let out a laugh at Seungcheol’s incredibly earnest expression and switched gears. “You have a good way with the kids,” he said. “You seem to get them.”
Seungcheol looked down, a little embarrassed but mostly flattered. “Guess I’m still a kid at heart,” he joked.
“Maybe so,” Joshua continued, “but you get what I mean, don’t you? I like the way you talk about them.”
“That’s nice,” Seungcheol reticently accepted. “They’re good kids. Thank you for helping me set it all up.”
Joshua made to get up from his chair as the bell rang. “Let me in on that Bloody Mary and we’ll call it even.”
“Deal.”