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Yohan was just your average college student. He made decent grades. He liked to play beer pong. He watched too many movies, and he was living the college dream making friends and going on dates that never made it past a second text. Everything was going great except for one tiny detail. Yohan was fucking lost.
Not in a deep existential kind of way, but the I wasn’t paying attention when I got off the bus, and now I don’t know where I am kind of way. Of course he could have used the map on his phone or simply turned around the way he came until he found his bus stop again, but Yohan wasn’t thinking about that. Yohan was thinking about how beautiful this mysterious neighborhood block was.
There were tea houses, and book shops, and palm readers, and more, and everything was covered in plants. Every window sill had a potted plant. Every median had a garden. Every wall was covered in vines that all seemed to stretch from one business. Flower Boy Flower Shop.
“That’s kind of a silly name for a florist,” Yohan said, but he was intrigued. The door was propped open by a petrified stump, and plants seemed to explode from it. It was like it was the bursting, botanical core of the whole neighborhood, and he was drawn to it curiously.
As he stepped inside, a tiny bell chimed, and he was greeted brightly by a faceless voice.
“Hello!” the person shouted. “I’ll be there in just a minute!”
“T–take your time,” Yohan called back. “I’m just looking.
The shop was packed with plants in such a way that it looked like a jungle. It was brighter than most buildings, having special light panels on the ceiling that beamed down like sunlight on snow, and he wished that he had had his sunglasses with him. He patted down his pockets and swore. I must have left them on the bus.
He had to duck below several hanging baskets with vines cascading down their sides to make his way through to the center of the store, but it seemed to just keep going even once he thought he had found it. He looked up, and the shop made way to a second story with a carved wooden balcony, and he wondered how big this place really was.
The worker from before rounded the corner and dropped a giant bag of potting soil at his feet, out of breath. He was in a white t-shirt stained with bits of dirt, light wash denim jeans that hugged him, and a canvas apron around his waist with his name printed on it. Han Seung Woo
“There you are,” the worker named Seungwoo said with a smile that reminded Yohan slightly of an airplane. “What can I help you with today?”
I’m just looking is what Yohan should have said. I’m lost. Could you help me get back to my bus stop? Would have also been a great answer, but unfortunately, Yohan must have also left his last functioning brain cell on the bus too with his sunglasses because there weren’t any words coming out of his mouth at all.
He was stunned.
He was speechless.
He was dumbfounded.
He was running out of time to say something before the pretty flower shop part timer called the police.
“I would like to buy a plant, please,” Yohan blurted out.
Seungwoo nodded sagely, unbothered by Yohan’s erratic behavior, and gestured towards the rest of the shop. “You have come to the right place. What kind of plant are you looking for?”
Seungwoo is pretty. “A pretty plant.”
“Do you like flowers?”
Think, Yohan, think. “I like tall… plants .”
“Ahhh,” he said. “Maybe this fiddle-leaf fig will do! It’s a tall floor plant that goes with any interior. They’re quite popular.”
“I love fiddle-leaf figs,” Yohan said having absolutely no idea what those three words meant except when used separately.
“I thought so!” Seungwoo said, proud that he had guessed correctly. “Here, you can pick out the one you want, and I’ll ring it up for you.”
And that was how Yohan ended up walking back home with a potted tree in his arms. He hadn’t meant to buy anything. He hadn’t meant to walk inside the store in the first place. But the second he saw Seungwoo, he lost control of all of his senses and traded brains with one of his lesser evolved ancestors. So now he had a tree and still wasn’t sure how to get home.
He could have called his roommate Hangyul for a ride, but he wasn’t ready to explain his new tree that would surely look lovely next to the futon and the pile of unwashed clothes neither one of them cared to deal with. He sighed and readjusted his plant in his arms, determined to make it home in one piece before answering a single question. If his guess was correct, he had about 40 minutes to come up with an excuse for his new plant.
“The sales guy was hot, wasn’t he,” Hangyul said, staring at the plant that now took up its own space in the living room. It was much taller than Yohan had imagined at the store.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yohan said, playing dumb.
Hangyul sighed and pointed at the giant painting of the cats playing charades that the cute guy at the furniture store with the beret had sold him. And then the guitar that was now more or less a dust collecting relic that the guy in the oversized hoodie at the music store had sold him. Then he pointed to the–
“Yeah, yeah,” Yohan waved him off. “I know I have a problem.”
“Every time a pretty boy so much as looks at you, you go into a full gay panic and do something like this.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Yohan said.
“My question is, why is it that I’m so obviously good looking, but you’ve never acted like a moron because of me,” Hangyul asked, more concerned about his own self esteem than Yohan’s plant that he bought from the prettiest boy in the whole world.
“That’s easy,” Yohan said simply. “You’re not pretty.”
Hangyul gasped and frowned. “Well there was no reason to be mean about it.”
“You’re handsome in a rugged manly sort of way,” Yohan said. “But I like to be the rugged one in the relationship.”
Hangyul snorted. “You’re not rugged.”
Yohan punched him lightly.
“Hey!”
“Hey!”
Hangyul pouted but didn’t argue anymore. “So we have a plant.”
“Yes,” Yohan said.
“Next time can you fall in love at a bakery?”
Yohan had a plant. It was too big for their cramped apartment that they could barely afford between the two of them, and they didn’t really have the window space to occupy a plant such as his fiddle-leaf fig. Plants needed sun. He knew that much. Sun and water. He was going to be a great plant dad. He was going to be a better plant dad than he was an art collector and a better plant dad than he was a musician.
But his plant didn’t look so good. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he would have said that his plant looked depressed .
“What do I do?” He asked his roommate, distraught.
“I don’t know if there’s anything you can do,” Hangyul scratched his chin.
“Well I can’t just let it die,” Yohan shrieked. “Oh man, this sucks.”
“Why don’t you go back and ask someone at that flower shop to help you with it? They would probably know what to do.”
“Right!” Yohan almost jumped. “Seungwoo would know!”
“ Seungwoo?” Hangyul teased. “Flower boy has a name? And you remembered it? ”
“Shut up!” Yohan shouted as he ran out the door, letting it slam behind him. Then he came back in and ran to grab his plant. “Don’t…”
“I wasn’t going to say anything! Now go before we have to bury it across the street like my parents did with Dohyon’s cat,” Hangyul said distantly.
Yohan stopped and looked at him sadly, holding the pot to his chest. “That’s so sad.”
“Right?”
He sighed and nodded. “Welp, gotta go!”
Yohan ran several blocks with his poor dying plant. He had to get it to someone who could help, and Seungwoo was the man for the job. Suddenly the words man and job conjured up images of Seungwoo in a hard hat with a toolbelt slung around his waist that he did not need to think about right then or probably ever if he ever planned on leaving his house again.
He made it the neighborhood with the fancy plants and the cute shops and almost collapsed in gratitude when he saw that the flower shop was open. Now he just had to hope that Seungwoo was working, and then he realized with a sudden burst of nerves that that meant he would have to talk to Seungwoo again. He never had to talk to the other pretty boys more than once. I did not think this through.
But it was too late. The state of his plant was on the line.
The doorbell dinged as he stepped through, and he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go. If he didn’t know any better he could have sworn that the whole place had changed since the last time he had been there to purchase his now suffering tree. Well he hadn’t originally planned on purchasing any kind of tree in the first place, but there he was.
“Hello!” A disembodied voice he was sure belonged to Seungwoo called out from deep inside the store. “I’ll be with you in a minute!”
Could you be with me right now?
Yohan shook himself and readjusted his plant in his arms. It was not the time to flirt. He had to save his tree first because he was so confident he would have been able to put together a pickup line at that moment. (He could not).
He made his way through the flower shop’s maze, ducking carefully to avoid more hanging baskets filled with plump, bushy ferns until he finally found Seungwoo.
His heart stopped.
Today he was in an unbuttoned denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his work white t-shirt with silver-wired glasses perched on his nose like some sort of soft boy fever dream, and Yohan almost dropped his plant.
“Can I help you?” Seungwoo asked.
“Ah, yes,” Yohan struggled to squeeze his thoughts together. “I came in a few days ago to buy this plant, and I think I killed it.”
He sat his tree on the ground carefully like a concerned single father whose child had broken their leg falling from a swing set at the playground, except his child was a waist high fiddle-leaf fig whose leaves were no longer fiddling.
“Yes! I remember you,” Seungwoo said. He crouched down and lifted one of the wilted leaves in his hand. Yohan pretended like he didn’t notice how long and slender they were and how they looked like they were carved from marble. “What’s wrong, little guy? Are you not feeling well?”
Seungwoo poked the soil in the pot with his fingertips and made a sound like a doctor examining a patient.
“What is it?” Yohan said, unable to stand the silence.
“I think it just needs more water,” he said. “Fiddle-leaf figs can be finicky.”
Yohan laughed nervously. “Yeah, it’s my first plant. I should have spent more time researching how to take care of it.”
Seungwoo looked up in surprise. “Your first plant? This is totally my mistake! I should have started you out with something easier. Would you like to return it?”
“No!” Yohan said. He couldn’t stand seeing Seungwoo blame himself for anything. He was such a good person. He couldn’t do anything wrong ever in his life. Yohan was the fool who didn’t water his tree right. “Can I save it?”
“I think so,” he said, thinking. “I’m sure if you water it a little more so that the soil is damp to the touch but not soaked, it should be fine. Come back in a few days if it’s not better, and I’ll exchange it for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“It can’t hurt to try if you still want to,” he rubbed his chin, smudging soil on his perfect face somehow making it more perfect. Yohan started giggling uncontrollably. “What?”
“Nothing,” Yohan said, red faced. “I just do that sometimes. Of course I want to! Thank you! Bye!”
Yohan grabbed his plant and ran out of the shop as if he stole it. He thought he heard Seungwoo call after him, but his legs were moving too fast to stop. In fact, he didn’t stop running until he reached his apartment, out of breath and drenched in sweat.
Hangyul sat on the steps outside of their shared apartment drinking something fluorescent orange out of a bottle.
“You did something gay, didn’t you,” he said at the sight of Yohan’s flustered appearance.
“No!” Yohan shouted louder than he meant to. “I mean. No .”
“You just felt like going for a little jog?”
“Uh huh,” he panted, out of breath.
“With your plant?”
“Yep.”
“All the way from the flower shop?”
“Do you want something,” Yohan said, annoyed with his best friend who he was ready to fight.
“Nope,” Hangyul said brightly, grinning from ear to ear. Yohan could have roundhoused him for it. It would have been perfectly justifiable in his condition, but he had a plant to rescue.
He took it inside and carefully watered it little by little until the soil felt like Seungwoo described. All he could do after that was hope his little tree could pull through.
A week later he headed back towards the flower shop except this time with a lively pep in his step and beaming with confidence. He couldn’t wait to tell Seungwoo how well his plant was doing thanks to his advice. It was the least he could do since Seungwoo clearly had blamed himself when it was entirely Yohan’s fault that he didn’t initially water it the correct amount.
He wasn’t at all nervous until he heard the little bell chime followed by a friendly I’ll be with you in a minute” that surely belonged to the most beautiful boy in the whole world. His heart raced and his head spun. What if he fainted? Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he function around a pretty boy he couldn’t even see yet?
He found Seungwoo with a crate of tiny, interesting plants, stacking them neatly on a shelf beneath a window in rows looking quite fond of each and every one of them. Yohan took a breath and approached him bravely, determined to not let his own weakness around pretty men drag him down.
“Plant!” Yohan blurted out, startling poor Seungwoo who was only trying to do his job.
“Oh!” He stumbled back and doubled over clutching his chest. “You startled me!”
Yohan cleared his throat and quietly repeated the word plant in the place of the word sorry that lingered on his tongue.
Seungwoo caught his breath and straightened his back. “Your fiddle-leaf fig, right? Did it survive?”
He remembers me! Yohan smiled brightly, energized by this new revelation. “It did! Thanks to your advice! I wanted to tell you in person.”
“Ahhh,” Seungwoo exclaimed sweetly. Everything about him seemed like he was created for a comic book, and Yohan forgot why he was there in the first place. “I’m so happy to hear that! Is there anything else you need while you’re here?”
Yohan blinked away a dozen thoughts that had nothing to do with plants.
“What are those,” he pointed towards the tiny plants Seungwoo was attending.
“These? These are our new succulents,” Seungwoo said, looking over them like he had personally planted and grown them himself. “Oh! They’re actually really easy to take care of too! Practically unkillable!”
Yohan’s eyes widened. These succulents were obviously very special to have received this much love from this one specific flower shop worker who Yohan would have given Hangyul’s car to, but that was neither here nor there. On top of that, he couldn’t kill them? He had to have one. “Can I buy one?”
Seungwoo looked at him in surprise. “Do you want to?”
For some reason, Yohan felt compelled. “Yes!”
“Great,” Seungwoo gestured towards the plants. “Which one would you like?”
“What do you like?”
“Hmm?”
“Which one do you like the most,” Yohan clarified.
Seungwoo thought for a moment and scooped up a tiny purple plant into his hands. “I think this echeveria purple pearl is the perfect plant for you. It will get bigger, but it’s just a baby now.”
“You think so?” He asked as he took the pot from Seungwoo’s hands, careful not to make any sort of physical contact because if he did he would have surely launched his new tiny purple friend across the store. “Oh, hey, it makes a perfect Fibonacci spiral.”
“That’s why it’s my favorite,” he said. “Normally the rosette looks more like some of the others, but this one is special.”
“I don’t know if I should have it then.”
“You wanted me to pick right?” Seungwoo tilted his head.
“Yes,” Yohan blinked like it wasn’t the most devastating head tilt he had ever seen before in his life.
“Then I think this one is perfect for you,” he insisted.
Yohan gulped. “I’ll take it.”
Yohan set his new friend on his nightstand next to his bed where he could see it every morning as soon as he woke up to start his day off right. Luckily for him, his roommate wasn’t there when he got home so that meant he wasn’t there to witness him give his new tiny friend a gentle kiss. He winced. I’m so stupid.
He may have been stupid, but his tree was healthy and his new purple friend was home. Except then a week passed, and his little friend wasn’t so purple anymore. It had turned a sickly green with pink tips on the ends of its rosette petals. I broke my new plant!
He jumped out of bed and got dressed in such a hurry that he mismatched his shoes and put his shirt on backwards, but he needed to get to the flower shop as soon as possible. There was no time to check his socks or google for that matter. It was so urgent, in fact, that he considered stealing Hangyul’s car to get himself there faster. He could not let his unkillable friend die.
He rushed the plant into the store, not even the least bit startled by the friendly bell chime that normally made him think of the pretty flower shop boy. This wasn’t about him.
“Seungwoo?” He called out before the usual greeting. “It’s me! The fiddle-leaf fig customer!”
The store had been rearranged again, but he was determined to find help for his plant.
Seungwoo found him this time, just as concerned as he was. “Is something wrong?”
Yohan was distraught. “My plant.”
He held out the succulent, and Seungwoo breathed a sigh of relief. “You didn’t kill it.”
“I didn’t?”
“No, I just forgot to tell you it needs a lot of sunlight and less water than the fiddle-leaf fig,” he assured him. “If you find a bright window for it, it’ll turn purple again in no time!”
“Really?!” Yohan was surprised. “That’s all?!”
“Yep!”
“Thank you so much,” he said, grateful. “I’ll go do that immediately.”
And Yohan was gone before Seungwoo could say anything else.
Yohan whirred past a sleepy Hangyul as he returned to his apartment. Hangyul plopped down on the sofa in his sleeping clothes and slippers for his morning coffee when Yohan yanked the curtains open.
Hangyul yelped in agony as the searning morning light assaulted his eyeballs, but Yohan had more important things to do than worry about his corneas.
“What are you doing?” Hangyul whined. “Did you get a new plant?”
“I did last week,” he said, setting his now sickly green friend onto its new spot in the window. “It needs lots of sunlight so don’t close the blinds for anything. You should probably start wearing pants around the house so that the neighbors don’t see you in your heart print boxers.
Hangyul pulled a blanket over himself and grumbled. “They’re comfortable. My mom got these for me.”
“Your mom?”
“At least I didn’t kill two plants this month,” he shouted before shuffling off with a blanket wrapped around his legs to protect his dignity.
“At least I didn’t kill two plants this month,” Yohan mocked to himself emphasizing Hangyul’s goofy tone. “Shut up, Hangyul. I didn’t kill my plants.”
He was still learning, and after all, he could always count on the pretty flower shop boy to help him whenever he needed it.
Yohan spent more time in his living room than he ever did before thanks to his two new friends, but something seemed missing. Maybe it was just the fact that his window seemed bare with only one succulent, or maybe it was because he missed a certain flower shop boy who still held the title of the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life.
He had some spare spending money from his part time job, and rent wasn’t due for another two weeks. It wouldn’t hurt to just browse.
Since he wasn’t in a hurry this time, he took the time to make himself look extra handsome. He thought that he should look nice for no other reason than the fact that he was leaving the house, and his parents raised him to always look his best. There was absolutely no other reason at all. Not even a tall, pretty reason with a perfect smile and a nose strong enough to solve graph equations on. With long slender hands, and subtle tattoos that slipped out from collar when he reached for things.
Oh no.
“Hey, Hangyul!” He squeaked. “Do you want to go to the flower shop with me?”
“Why?”
“I need more plants,” he said, hands trembling.
Hangyul eyed him. “Are you doing the thing?”
“No!” he insisted, but he was indeed doing the thing.
“How good looking is this guy? I have to see for myself,” Hangyul said, grabbing his coat, and then Yohan had the horrifying thought that Hangyul who wasn’t scared of anything would ask him out first the second he saw his perfect face.
“No!” He shouted. “I’m going by myself! Goodbye!”
He ran out the door expecting to get made fun of the second he returned with a new plant, but what he did not expect was to have Hangyul chasing after him giggling uncontrollably.
“This is fun! Wait for me!”
“Go away!” Yohan shouted. “You’re not helping!”
But Hangyul was fast. He forgot he was an athlete once too. “You can’t run forever!”
“You wanna bet!”
And then the next thing he knew they were both doubled over in front of the flower shop out of breath. Yohan reached up and grabbed Hangyul’s shoulder.
“You,” he gasped. “Don’t ruin this for me.”
Hangyul wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked up at the sky questing his life choices.
“He better be a god or a fairy for all of this,” Hangyul said, out of breath.
“You didn’t have to follow me here,” Yohan insisted, insulted that his impeccable taste was questioned.
“It’s for your own good.”
They walked in together, and Yohan thought he was going to die from embarrassment. A thought that hadn’t occurred to him while he was busy trying to outrun Hangyul was that what if Seungwoo thought that they were together? What if he mistook his annoying best friend and roommate as his life partner? Yohan was too young for that kind of commitment — not to Hangyul at least!
The bell chimed followed with the ever friendly greeting that belonged to Seungwoo, and Yohan’s heart dropped. A part of him had hoped that he wouldn’t have been there that day. Did he have days off? Did he have a flexible schedule? Did he live there? Oh my god what if they won’t let him leave! I will get you out of here! I promise!
“Yohan?” Hangyul elbowed him painfully, snapping him out of it.
Seungwoo was standing there waiting for him to say something, and he hadn’t even noticed him walk up to them.
“Plant?” Seungwoo asked earning an odd look from Hangyul.
“What?” Yohan said, trying to come back to his senses.
“Is your succulent doing okay?”
“It’s great,” he cheered, earning his own look from Hangyul. “In fact, I thought we could use more of them. I’m worried it’ll get lonely.”
Seungwoo smiled and nodded that soft way he did. “I understand perfectly.”
“I even brought my roommate with me to help carry them,” Yohan added, making sure to stress that Hangyul was just his roommate. Nothing more. He could stay his best friend too if he behaved.
“You did?” Hangyul asked, having followed him there against Yohan’s will. “Ah! Yes, I am here to carry a plant.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” Seungwoo smiled at Hangyul, and Yohan plotted ways to sabotage Hangyul’s life as soon as they got home.
“Great,” Hangyul said, and they both turned to Yohan waiting for him to do anything besides glare at Hangyul. “Why don’t you lead the way?”
“What? Oh! Yes,” Yohan shook himself. “Where are the rest of your succulents?”
Hangyul glared at Yohan with the force of a thousand suns. Yohan, on the other hand, avoided eye contact with him at any cost.
“We should go home,” Yohan suggested with an apologetic smile.
Hangyul, who struggled to carry the crate of plants in his arms, was not amused. Yohan bought all of the succulents and a few other various low maintenance houseplants for their apartment with the rest of his money forcing them both to leave with their arms full even though it was a forty minute walk back to their apartment.
“I can’t believe this,” Hangyul said, trudging along.
“I panicked…”
“You think?”
Yohan sighed and carried on. He didn’t feel like being berated that day.
“Why don’t you just ask him out?” Hangyul finally asked.
“I can’t do that,” Yohan said. “That’s his job. He doesn’t want to get hit on by some loser. And what if he says no? What if he doesn’t like me?”
“If he doesn’t like you, why does he insist on being the one to help you every time you go in when that shop is filled with other people?”
“What other people?”
Hangyul looked at him in disbelief. “There were like three other workers there who came to us before he got there.”
“I didn’t see them,” Yohan said, immune to Hangyul’s lies.
“That’s because you were too busy making googly eyes and telling everyone else that you didn’t need help,” he insisted.
“Now that is just not true at all,” Yohan said. “I will not tolerate this blatant character assassination in front of my plants.”
“Just because I don’t know what a ‘character assassination’ means, doesn’t mean you’re right!”
“I’m right because I am!”
“Whatever, just ask him out next time or I will.”
Yohan gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Wouldn’t I?!”
They walked quietly together back to their neighborhood with a quiet truce. They both agreed that their negative energy could dramatically harm Yohan’s plants, and as their new loving uncle, Hangyul was just going to have to learn to be reasonable when talking about Yohan’s affliction.
“Hey, Hangyul?” he asked as they finally reached their apartment.
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m going to be late on my half of the rent this month.”
Yohan was glad that Hangyul’s hands were full.
It had been a few weeks, and Yohan and Hangyul’s apartment was beginning to look like a jungle. Every surface that could support a plant had one of his new little friends on it. He ever purchased a few books on how to take care of houseplants so that he wouldn’t kill them anymore but also because he felt wrong going back to the flower shop again. After going with his best friend and having a witness to the way he fell apart every time he was near Seungwoo, it no longer felt sacred to him. After a while he stopped looking for Seungwoo when he bought more plants. Sure, a part of him still went to see him, but he never asked for his advice or opinions again. Eventually the butterflies he felt when he heard the bell chime when he walked in were replaced with a pit in his stomach that made him feel like a fool for being there in the first place. Now that he had enough plants, he was ready to break free from the Flower Boy Flower Shop.
And then there was a knock on the door.
Yohan was in his gray house sweats with a blue athletic hoodie that had his university’s logo printed on the front. He was not dressed for visitors. Or guests. Or neighbors complaining that they saw Hangyul in his underwear again because he was sorry, but he would not deprive his babies of their precious sunshine. And then there was the neighbor who thought that he had called Hangyul his precious sunshine and immediately retracted their whole complaint because, as they happily informed him, their nephew was a homosexual.
Yohan stretched and cracked the joints in his neck and pretended like he didn’t hear a knock at all. Whoever it was would have surely gone away after he didn’t answer the first time.
And then there was a second knock, and something about it made him curious. It wasn’t hurried at all or aggressive so he doubted it was a neighbor, and if it was a visitor for him or Hangyul, they would have yelled something through the door or sent a text telling him they were there.
And then there was a third knock.
Yohan snuck across his apartment, ignoring the fact that he could be seen clearly through the window so whoever was there probably already knew he was inside. He looked through the peephole and gasped.
Shit!
He cracked the door just enough to see through and ask why Seungwoo was standing outside of his apartment like some kind of Ghost of Christmas Past.
“Hello?”
“Ah! I was worried you weren’t home,” he said and, since Yohan did not react in a way that meant he was expecting company, became quite flustered. “You didn’t know I was coming…”
“Did you need something?” Yohan felt himself losing his senses again. Why was Seungwoo at his apartment of all places? He was not dressed to be seen by the prettiest boy in the whole world!
“I’m here to make a delivery,” Seungwoo explained.
“You make deliveries?”
“I guess,” he scratched his head. “Should I go?”
“No! Don’t go!” Yohan swung the door open, earning an amused smile from Seungwoo at his frazzled appearance.
“Let me know where I can put these then,” he said. Behind him was a cart with indoor planters on them for Yohan’s apartment.
“What are those for?”
“Your roommate – Hangyul was it? – came by the shop a week ago to complain to me personally that your house was turning into something from The Legend of Zelda, and that it was all my fault.”
Yohan winced.
Seungwoo continued, “so to make up for getting you addicted to plants, I helped him come up with a solution.”
“What kind of solution?”
“For starters, I’m going to help you transfer your friends into these planters to clear up some counter space, and then you’re going to get dressed and take out – as Hangyul put it, these are his words not mine – the prettiest boy in the whole world because I’m doing this on my day off.”
Yohan choked. “I’m gonna do what with who now?”
Seungwoo smiled brightly. “So, where would you like your new planters?”