Chapter Text
Keonhee realises he’s blooming in a party supply store.
He’s supposed to be buying plates for their last hangout before Seoho buries himself in biochemistry review sheets for the last week of August. Instead, he’s gotten distracted by the glittery pinatas hung next to an impressively extensive selection of balloons and is wondering if their yearly end-of-summer picnic could use a candy-filled unicorn addition.
He’s awakened from his thoughts by a large crash by his feet. In his musings of party planning, he had begun to lean on the carefully balanced stacks of helium canisters next to him. The helium canisters are now careening across the grubby linoleum of Party City and Keonhee feels his ears start to burn. He scrambles to pick up the canisters and set them upright, apologising profusely to the employees and the few customers shopping for party supplies on an August weekday. He darts into an aisle full of streamers and tinsel as soon as he’s finished tidying, hoping to hide until the flush in his cheeks dies down and he can walk out of the store without looking like a tomato.
As he walks past the selection of metallic decorations, his ankle twists out from under him and he stumbles into the silver tassels. Of course. He should have known his bad luck couldn’t end with just one incident.
Untangling himself from the shiny strings proves harder than expected. His hands had started to sweat after the embarrassment of crashing through a sales display and the tassels stick to his damp palms when he tries to pick them off. As he struggles, something pulls at his scalp.
A hand flies up to cover the crown of his head on instinct, and he's surprised to find the streamers wrapped around a few tiny, firm flower buds.
His heart catches in his throat and his flailing arms freeze. Compartmentalisation has never been his strong suit, but he resolves to let himself overthink when he isn’t in such an embarrassing situation. He is still covered in metallic plastic streamers after all.
He does eventually manage to untangle himself from the shiny display and make his purchases, but not without letting out a few muffled yelps and attracting yet more attention from concerned shoppers.
After he makes his escape, he collapses back onto the nearest bench and stares at the sky with empty eyes, absentmindedly feeling the petals on his head and plucking a few to stare at them. It’s finally happening to him. He’s fallen in love and somehow he doesn’t know who the object of his adoration is. This is far from the magical, rosy-filtered scenes he’s watched in countless dramas, but his heart quickens all the same. Sitting on a sticky bench outside of Party City at 3 pm with a bag of plastic dinnerware is not exactly how he imagined falling in love.
It’s not uncommon that one might find themselves sprouting flowers, but it’s not normal enough that Keonhee can simply type a panicked question into his phone and expect an answer.
This is supposed to be a life-changing moment, the one second that will alter his outlook on life, the starting gun to his coming-of-age story! (or something like that. He may have fallen asleep watching that episode last night) All the characters he sees seem to have a direction after this, maybe denying they’re in love at all. Or going on a wild goose chase to find the one they love. Or waiting years for their love to find them. None of these choices seem appealing to him. This is one of those moments he daydreamed about happening, when he was falling asleep in geography class and imagined what he would do if he was dropped into his favourite drama at the time.
Now that it’s actually happening, he’s not sure where to step next.
Keonhee peels himself off the bench and grimaces at the noise of his jeans unsticking themselves from whatever was spilled there hours ago. He heads home at a snail’s pace, his swirling thoughts almost visible as a tornado above his head.
⸻
A lone fuzzy black beanie is walking up the street to Seoho’s house as the purple blue of the dawn sky is chased away by the rising sun. Two minutes later the black beanie has dug his hand into the black soil of Seoho’s porch marigolds and hoping that the flowers are in a good mood. He fishes around for a bit before the kiss of cold metal brushes his hand. Slowly, his index finger reaches out to hook around the key and he gently brings it up, shaking the soil off as he goes.
Thankfully this time the roots had let him take their treasure; he once sat on the porch for two hours until Seoho had come home because the roots had taken his pinky hostage and wouldn’t be dislodged short of ripping it from the stem. All he had wanted to do was surprise Seoho with a meal after his long day of lab work, but apparently the marigolds didn’t consider that good enough intentions to let him pass. They were moody flowers. Maybe Seoho’s mischievousness had rubbed off on them, and it was only giving him the key now that they had planned a prank.
Slipping his socked feet out of his slides, Keonhee tiptoes silently up the stairs to Seoho’s room. Or he tries to. Halfway up his obstacle, he stumbles and stubs his toe against the step with a loud bang.
"Mmmphgh… Geohee?” A grumble that sounds vaguely like his name trickles out from under the pale wooden door leading to Seoho’s bed. Oops. Well, might as well go all in since the secret’s out. He bounds up the rest of the step, bursts through the bedroom door—they hadn’t knocked on each other’s doors in years—and jumps onto the vaguely human lump on the mattress.
“Good morning sunshine!”
“Oof— ow .”
“We have five hours to make our bombs and bake our cupcakes.” Keonhee rolls off Seoho’s body to face him. “You did promise,” he reminds his best friend.
Seoho only groans and rolls away from him, curling further around the stuffed frog he’s hugging.
So Keonhee shifts closer. “Dongju was planning to get golden hour shots for Instagram,” He whispers to Seoho’s left ear, knowing the irresistible temptation of annoying their youngest friend.
The noise Seoho makes this time is more of a contemplative hum and less of a growl, so Keonhee considers this halfway to victory. He wiggles even closer to the fluffy orange hair poking out of the duvet and Seoho rolls over to escape as expected. Except there is no longer any bed to roll over onto and he falls onto the carpet with a dull thump .
Eyes crinkled in a smile and a face half covered with messy hair peek over the edge of the bed. “Okay, I’m up, let’s annoy our friends and make cupcakes so they forgive us later.”
⸻
Several hours and way too many donuts later, their small group of six is sprawled out in the park in the late afternoon heat. They’re all stuffed to the brim with oily food and sweets, and a weak groan comes from somewhere in the tangle of arms and legs.
Keonhee glances to his right to catch Seoho’s eyes—even in the midst of the chaos caused by six barely adult boys they’re still attached at the hip. A slight nod signals that it’s time, and Keonhee stands up groaning, stretching to feign stiffness. Sauntering over to the water cooler, he grabs a water bottle—one marked with Seoho’s smiley sticker—and offers some to the rest of the group. They all accept, as one would in the sweltering August sun, and catch the bottles Keonhee tosses over.
Very slowly, Seoho begins to inch away from the group to join Keonhee, who has migrated even further to the shelter of a tree trunk.
“ One… ” Seoho stage whispers, watching Geonhak loosely dangle the bottle by the cap.
“ Two… ” Geonhak grips the cap, twisting gently.
“ Three! ” Seoho shouts, perfectly matched with the opening of the bottle and the subsequent mini geyser that soaks Geonhak from his head to his waist.
Their other friends were slower in activating the trigger, but not slow enough for Geonhak’s soaking to act as a warning. Four boys fixed the two pranksters with exasperated glares, Dongju’s gaze bordering on murderous.
Keonhee realises their plan before Seoho does, and grabs his hand, sprinting toward the playground
His long legs and Seoho’s athleticism buy them time to duck under the play structure and hide behind a bright yellow twisty slide. Both of them try to muffle their laughter as they hear the shouts of their friends approaching.
Huddled behind a sun-heated plastic slide is not the most comfortable place for Keonhee and his legs, but one look at Seoho’s sparkling expression erases the discomfort from his mind. He’s glad Seoho is having fun. He tends to throw himself into work, and especially this year with the classes competing for internship spots, Keonhee knows Seoho will become hyper focused and refuse any extended invitations in favour of more revision.
He works too hard, Keonhee thinks, always aiming two steps further than the goal. He was brushed off when he brought these concerns up, hearing “I can handle it.” more times than he cared to in a month. So he had taken to planning events months in advance set to take place just before particularly stressful periods in Seoho’s university courses.
“I-” Keonhee starts.
“Shhh!” Seoho hisses, peeking around the slide to scope out the area, “Woong and Youngjo are coming.” His tone is expressionless, but Keonhee has been friends with Seoho long enough to know that whatever is coming next is far from innocent.
Youngjo’s colourful sneakers appear behind the slide and Seoho jumps out, producing two cans of silly string from his hoodie, and nailing both Hwanwoong and Youngjo in the face before zipping away.
It seems his luck has run out though, because Geonhak intercepts him on his way back to the picnic and the rest of the boys descend on him like vultures. Keonhee refuses to cower behind a slide and proclaims himself a “white knight”, charging into the fray to rescue his partner-in-crime.
⸻
When their friends have deemed them sufficiently tickled for their transgressions, the sun has almost disappeared and the sky is painted half in orange and half in cornflower blue. One by one, they all trickle off home. Leedo and Youngjo racing each other to catch the last bus back to their dorms, Dongju dragging his feet across the street home for a Disney movie marathon with his brother, and Hwanwoong rubbing his eyes as he trails down the sidewalk, no doubt ready to fall into bed after the energy this picnic has taken out of him. Seoho and Keonhee let themselves relax, heads on the cool grass.
“So,” Seoho begins. “Why didn’t you tell me about your new accessories? Your hat was pretty shit at hiding them during my ‘rescue’.”
Busted . Keonhee fiddles with his beanie, now rumpled and grass stained, before answering. “I don’t know. I just felt weird about it? It’s just another big thing that’s changing and I wanted today to be a nostalgic day I guess.”
“You’re such a hopeless romantic.” Seoho can’t help but let the corners of his mouth lift at Keonhee’s response.
“I know, but you love me for it,” Keonhee jokes, turning around to face Seoho on the checkered blanket and pokes his cheek.
“I kinda wish I didn’t,” he grumbles, “then I wouldn’t have been woken at ass o’clock by a tree falling on me.” Keonhee just smiles wider at the indirect admission of affection. He knows Seoho isn’t good at saying I love you , so he appreciates these small pearls of fondness as they come.
A blanket of silence settles as they watch the sun set.
He glances at Seoho, watching the warm glow of the sunlight paint his face in strokes of fire. He’s pretty. The thought flutters across his mind for a split second before he gets distracted by a mosquito trying to fly directly up his nose.
The mood has settled too deeply to be broken by his routine screams though, and they both settle back down into the quiet after Seoho laughs at his flying limbs and he makes sure he hasn’t been bitten.
As the orange glow finally fades to deep blue, Keonhee slips into his thoughts.
This was supposed to be a wild summer, like the ones he watches in countless movies and reads about in coming-of-age novels. The book he’s been writing for the last four years is ending and, although stargazing with your best is lovely, Keonhee had hoped for something more dramatic. One last act of teenage rebellion to mark the end of an era sounds like a good way to start his new book.
“I want to dye my hair blue.”
The response he gets is perfect. “Okay, let’s do it!” Seoho cheers, hopping up immediately.
The night is young, and their local convenience store is far from closing time, but they run there all the same, just like they did during countless snack runs before pulling all nighters. They burst through the glass doors into the cool air and fluorescent lighting, out of breath from both laughter and exertion. The lone employee working doesn’t even bat an eye, the locals are far too used to them at this point.
A few arguments later (on the merits of various types of gummies and which shade of blue matches his flowers best), the duo leave the store loaded down with bags of treats and one box of electric blue dye snuggled safely in a nest of six different kinds of chips.
The bathroom is a mess by the time they finish, the porcelain sink stained with an abstract painting of blue fingerprints and brushstrokes (hairstrokes in this case). Keonhee’s cheeks are starting to ache from his unceasing grin and he thinks this will be one of the happiest memories he’ll ever make. Maybe he’s drunk on the high of impulse decisions, but regret isn’t a word in his dictionary right now.
─ ❀ ─
Seoho realises he's blooming in the shower.
At first he thinks it’s blood staining the snowy white of his shower, and his first thought is, did Youngjo hyung really hit me that hard? Yesterday’s picnic wasn’t the most elaborate of their gags, but he had snuck in a couple jumpscares after the water bottle explosions. He had scared the (self-proclaimed) dad of the group so much that his flailing arms had nearly given Seoho a nosebleed. Youngjo had apologised profusely of course, but there was no harm done. Or so he had thought.
His sight is slightly blurry without his glasses, and he can just make out red pools on the porcelain.
The red is too dark to be his blood though, and he reaches out a tentative finger to touch it. And feels the velvet softness of tiny flower petals.
He’s blooming. And there is a trail of empty flower stems sprouting from his collarbones and around the back of his neck.
The penny sized deep purple-red petals blooming from his neck like a velvet choker are a sign that he’s given his heart away unknowingly. His mind races with hypotheses on what other things could cause blooming besides falling in love (because he’s so sure he hasn’t). Could a specific mix of neurotransmitters signal for blooming? Maybe it was how happy he felt yesterday?
By the time his hair has dried into a fluffy red-orange cloud, the fallen petals have been replaced and are as perky and round as the ones his mother has been obsessively tending for the past few months. He’s no closer to figuring things out though.
His left foot is halfway through his jeans when his doorbell rings. Eight times in a row. There’s only one person who would show up at this time of day. As a last thought before he leaves his room to bolt downstairs, Seoho grabs a zip-up hoodie and covers up his flower necklace.
An innocent face smiles up at him when he opens the door buttoning his pants. One of the arms attached to the innocent face is wrist deep in his flowerpot, and the other is wrapped around an absurdly large thermos.
“Good morning?” Keonhee offers. “I don’t think your marigolds like me much. And to think I thought they were warming up to me after they let me in yesterday.”
“I bet you just had sugar on your fingers yesterday or something. I did tell you that the road to Minnie’s heart is paved with food, and I found out recently that they really dig shortbread cookies.” Seoho teases lightly, stroking the marigold’s sepals to coax it to loosen its iron grip on Keonhee’s fingers.
Keonhee reaches a long arm upward and Seoho obliges, grabbing his wrist to pull his friend up. “I brought breakfast!” Keonhee announces, holding the silver thermos up like a trophy. “I don’t trust whatever concoction you were definitely going to make with our snack leftovers from last night.”
Seoho suddenly perks up, dropping Keonhee’s arm before he sprints back inside and disappears from view. He reappears thirty seconds later, slightly out of breath, and holding a rolled up bamboo mat. “We can eat outside!” he exclaims, his eyes sparkling and smiling wide. “I haven’t observed my babies in a while, they need some attention too.”
Seoho’s “babies” are the two yellow magnolia trees planted on the front and back lawns of his tiny house. They’ve been kept blooming way past their flowering season thanks to the various potions Seoho is given to using them as test dummies for. He’s hoping to discover whether the sun exposure from the north or south sides will alter their chemical properties. They settle under Lili (the tree on the north facing side), basking in the sun and cool morning breeze.
Keonhee shoves a plastic spoon into Seoho’s hand as soon as he lowers himself to the ground and opens the thermos to reveal a steaming bowl of porridge. “Eat! You can’t be getting enough nutrients from your weird chicken-onion-cereal omelette breakfasts.”
As Keonhee talks animatedly about his new life with blue hair and how he felt like a comic book character walking up the street this morning, a stray magnolia petal settles on his head. I’m lucky to have him , Seoho thinks fondly. Thoughts like this aren’t rare—Keonhee does sweet things like bring him breakfast at least once a month, even when he was hours away at school—but he’s never been able to voice them aloud.
He hopes that whoever Keonhee has fallen in love with will appreciate him as he deserves. This he does say out loud, tacking on a threat to the mystery crush if they end up hurting him.
Keonhee’s bright smile droops a little after that. “I didn’t think about that part…” he almost whispers. “What if they don’t like me? They probably don’t. Who do I know that could possibly see me that way?”
“Impossible. No one could not like you. Maybe it was a passing stranger and you fell in love at first sight like in all your dramas,” Seoho teases. Keonhee’s expression doesn’t lift and Seoho sits up further, “Hey. If whoever it is doesn’t like you back, that’s their loss.”
Keonhe sighs, obviously not really listening. “This is real life Seoho, there’s a one in a million chance that this will end in a happily ever after.” He’s lying limp on the grass now. “What if I just stop thinking about it and let the flowers die? I don’t know who it is anyway, just forgetting about it should be easy.”
“That’s a bad idea and you know it,” Seoho responds, poking his sides. Keonhee sits up, giggling a little, “Yeah. But I still want to do it.”
“You’ll be thinking of ‘what if’ scenarios for the rest of your life. I know you.” Seoho intensifies his tickles, moving on to Keonhee’s armpits. He’s giggling uncontrollably now, and there are a few grass stains forming on his pale blue jeans.
Keonhee sits up, smiling again, “Okay then, we’ll turn it into a movie plot. You’re the comic relief sidekick tagging along with me, the main character, while we go on a wild adventure to find my one true love.”
Despite his movie pitch, he makes no move to get up from his bed on Seoho’s lawn, and rolls onto his stomach, picking two clover blossoms to start a flower chain.
The sun has steadily risen higher, and the chill of early morning has dissipated. Seoho’s hooded sweater is starting to get uncomfortably hot and he scratches at the neckline, itchy from the pollen shedding from the flowers.
Keonhee looks up at the movement and asks, “Don’t you want to take that off? I’m usually the one telling you to dress warmer than shorts and a t-shirt, why are you wearing it anyway?”
Seoho’s looks down at the empty thermos, silent for a moment, before wondering why he covered his flowers in the first place. This was normal, why should he feel weird about them?
A huff of breath makes its way out of his mouth before he slowly starts to unzip the sweater and says, “It’s not a big deal.”
His best friend lets out a little gasp at the reveal, his eyes sparkling brighter from his excitement. “I was joking about it before, but it really is a movie plot now! We should find out who they are and I’ll film our adventures!”
“I doubt it’ll be anything like a movie,” Seoho laughs. “But what the hell. It’s my last week before I move back to uni, why not do something weird?”
⸻
Keonhee runs home to pick up his selfie stick while Seoho gleefully chucks his sweater back through the front door, glad to be rid of it.
He’s just stepped onto the shade of his porch to wait, sitting cross-legged next to Minnie, when he spots a blueberry coloured dot on the manicured green lawns of his suburbs. As Keonhee approaches, Seoho can see his long legs are walking almost jerkily, as if he’s trying to keep himself from skipping down the streets.
In the morning sunlight, Seoho can’t help but think that his best friend looks out of place here. Keonhee is surrounded by unremarkable brick houses and identical paved driveways, each front yard decorated with the same variety of low maintenance shrubs and flowers. Seoho’s slight astigmatism means the bright light causes streaks to form, and it seems as though Keonhee is the one glowing so brightly Seoho has to screw his eyes shut. He’s teased him about his height before, joking that his slightly-taller-than-average friend would fit in with the trees in a forest, but with his crown of forget-me-nots and his hair the colour of a forest stream in a fantasy anime, he looks more ethereal. Never mind that he’s just wearing jeans and a t-shirt, or that a mint green selfie stick is swinging from his left hand, he looks pretty anyway.
Keonhee clears the porch stairs in two wide steps and bounces in place, “Honestly, I have no idea where to start, but we should get snacks first! We have a long day ahead!” he practically chirps. He looks like a puppy before a walk, excited for an adventure, wherever it may be.
They start filming on Seoho’s phone (Keonhee’s phone is suffering from an abundance of selfies and a lack of storage capacity), and head down the street.
The first step is to interview all their friends first, because really, who else would know how they act when they’re in love? Hwanwoong’s house is their first target, and because there’s no way he’s awake at 9am on a Sunday, they throw pebbles at his window until he can’t ignore them anymore.
A bleary eyed, onesie wearing Hwanwoong joins them on the lawn ten minutes later.
“What do you want?” he groans. “I haven’t been up this early in months.”
It takes a minute for his eyes to fully focus, and Seoho and Keonhee stand patiently waiting for Hwanwoong’s vision to clear.
“Ta da!”
“What the fuck.” are the first words out of the shorter boy’s mouth when he sees the blossoms on his friends.
Hwanwoong tiptoes to get a closer look at the flowers. His eyes are wide when he steps back. “I almost didn’t think they were real,” he exclaims. “Who do you think they are?”
“No idea,” Seoho shrugs. “That’s why we’re here.”
Hwanwoong’s face is the picture of mirth, but he dissolves into giggles when he notices the blinking light on the end of the selfie stick that Keonhee has been holding up for the past hour.
He collects himself, faces his two slightly confused friends with a smirk on his face, and says, “Well, I’m awake, so why not indulge whatever ridiculous plan this is.”
Two dozen questions and no answers later, the pair is walking further up the street to Dongju’s house. Hwanwoong had given them no insight at all, giving vague answers to all their questions and bursting into bouts of mirth every ten minutes.
Dongju is just as thoroughly unhelpful, and calling Youngjo and Geonhak gets them no closer to any development in their love lives.
It’s not a total loss though. They’ve been filming all day, and managed to get some great footage of Hwanwoong stumbling over his own feet, Dongju snuggled up in bed next to a stuffed bear with a nest for hair, and many minutes of Geonhak and Dongju bickering over the phone.
“This is a failure,” Seoho laments as they walk towards a diner for lunch. “I’m sure they all know something, Dongju looked way too smug when we left.” He pores over the details of the four conversations they’ve had that morning, hoping for a clue to the identity of the people he knows his friends think they’re in love with.
“Pancakes first,” Keonhee swings open the glass door. “Then we’ll make a new plan.”
⸻
The new plan—made over pancakes almost drowned in syrup—consists of walking around an amusement park and hoping they bump into their “one true loves”.
Their town is small, Keonhee argues, and where better to find all the people our age on the last weekend of August than enjoying the old roller coaster that has become something of a summer tradition for all the residents?
So they take off for spinning teacups and merry-go-round horses painted in chipped pastel colours.
The second the friends step through the gates, both of them are swept with waves of nostalgia. The rides and buildings look the same as they did when a 13 year-old Seoho and 11 year-old Keonhee were trusted to roam freely for the first time and the thoughts of romance that have been following them all morning evaporate.
Keonhee keeps filming though, as they work their way through nightmarish amounts of fluffy cotton candy and “race” their carousel horses. A feeling of complete freedom takes over, and the sun steadily sinks as they relive their childhoods.
The whole park is bathed in rosy golden light when they are finally tired enough to leave, and Seoho finds himself staring at the halo the setting sun makes around Keonhee’s smiling face. He feels a little strange, like he wants to say something but he doesn’t exactly know what it is. The silence is starting to settle heavier on them, and Keonhee has noticed his gaze and returns it, which starts to make his skin prickle.
The mood is broken when he yells, “Race you to our park!” And sets off toward home. Keonhee catches up easily with his long legs, and their paces match up. Soon they’re strolling along familiar sidewalks with nonstop chatter flowing around them.
Keonhee abruptly cuts himself off in the middle of a story about the beginnings of a failed soap making enterprise, and says softly, “This is just like high school.” He looks a little wistful, remembering how they used to spend their summers.
Seoho recalls the memories he’s filed away—they haven’t been touched in a while.
“Remember when we sang that joke duet for the talent show?” he asks, “Well, it started as a joke anyway.”
"I got lost while the sunlight was painting us gold, I got lost hoping that we would never get old.” Keonhee’s soft voice floats into the air. “I was really happy that day, you know?” he muses, “Nothing big happened, we were just together all day, but I remember feeling so happy.”
They’ve reached the neighbourhood park now, and Keonhee sits down on a swing, humming old songs and giggling while rewatching their footage from today.
Seoho settles on the swing next to him and tries to beat the height record he set when he was fourteen. He poses at the top, smiling goofily at Keonhee who has turned the camera on him to record his antics.
Their laughter rises as Seoho’s poses get exponentially more ridiculous, Keonhee nearly falling off his swing when he mimics an elephant.
At the top of his next arc and in the middle of contorting his arms into a pretzel to make a heart, Keonhee’s grin softens affectionately. Then his eyes widen and he fumbles his phone. He immediately widens his smile again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Keonhee?” Seoho asks on his way down. “What happened?”
“I- I, um, have to be somewhere. Yeah! Forgot about it! See you?” Keonhee says cheerily, a plastic smile on his face, and promptly jogs across the road and out of sight. Seoho thinks he sees him pull out a handful of baby blue petals from his flower crown.
The dying sun casts the last of its rays as Keonhee rounds the corner onto his street, leaving Seoho confused and a little hurt.