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Chapter Text

People liked to say that Hongjoong’s flower shop could draw anyone, human or not. The entire storefront was filled with fresh blooms, all arranged to aesthetic perfection, and the scents of the flowers danced and mingled in the air, calling to all those who passed by. Crossing the doors led you into a large room where the air always carried a light fragrance no matter the time of year, where the sunlight fell on delicate petals and sturdy stems. The interior of the shop was just as attractive as the outside, and Hongjoong received many customers that didn’t intend to buy flowers when they left home in the morning, but somehow found themselves unable to resist the pull of his shop. 

Yes, everyone agreed. Hongjoong’s flower shop would attract any creature, human or not. 

Crouched behind the counter, clutching a pair of shears to his chest, Hongjoong was starting to fear they were right. 

It was dark. He’d closed up for the night, saying goodbye to his last customer over an hour ago—the lovely Auntie Shin buying a bouquet for her husband. Hongjoong had brought in the few flowers he had remaining outside, shut and locked the doors. It was the end of the month and he’d decided to settle the month’s accounts. It was getting late, but his tiny apartment was built right over the shop, so there was no danger, was there? 

Hongjoong told himself that, over and over again, as he felt the weight of a gaze on him, heavy and hungering. He repeated it in his head as the sensation of some other presence in his empty shop only grew. And he kept saying it until the lights suddenly switched off, letting inky darkness flood in. 

Now, here, with a small pair of shears as his only weapon, Hongjoong wondered what was in the shop with him. 

Nothing human, that was for sure. He would’ve known if it was just a person. He wouldn’t be cowering under his counter if it was just a person. 

Whatever it was, Hongjoong doubted it was here to buy a bouquet of tulips and go. Well that was fine. Hongjoong had no intention of dying.

He gripped the charm around his neck with a sweaty hand. This will protect you, Yeosang had said, and there was something in his mysterious friend’s smile that made Hongjoong believe him. He clutched the charm until he felt the wooden edges dig into his fingers. He needed all the protection he could get at that moment. 

Tap, tap, tap. Hongjoong could hear the sounds getting closer. They sounded like regular footsteps, and that only made the fear in his gut surge higher. He took the fear and channeled it into resolve. If the thing had steps it had a body, and if it had a body Hongjoong could fight back. 

He waited, keeping his breathing low, steady, as the footsteps only got closer and closer. Hongjoong’s heart pounded in his ears, deafening. With every tap the sound got louder, until Hongjoong could hear it right on the other side of the counter, just inches away separated by nothing more than flimsy wood and plastic. 

And then, clear as a bell, the tap of a nail against the countertop. 

Hongjoong jumped up and drove the shears forward. 

The face he was greeted with was, with no shadow of a doubt, the most handsome Hongjoong had ever seen in his life. Startled, Hongjoong tried to pull back, but it was too late. The point of the shears rammed straight into the chest of the tall, handsome man in front of Hongjoong, sinking inches inside. Blood spilled past the edges of the metal and trickled down in a stream. 

The man looked down at his chest, and then back up at Hongjoong. A vicious smile split his handsome face. 

Hongjoong’s eyes went wide and he took a step back. 

“That rather hurt,” said the stranger. He sounded almost amused. “But you’ll need more than pruning shears to kill a demon.”

Hongjoong felt his heart stop in his chest. A demon. The creature in front of him was a demon. 

Hongjoong was going to die. 

“You’re very pretty,” said the demon, pulling the blades out of its chest like they were no more than a thorn caught on the front of his shirt. “The red is beautiful. I almost thought you were another flower in the shop.”

Hongjoong swallowed as he took another step. “What do you want?” he asked. He doubted the demon was here just to compliment his hair. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” The demon tilted its head. “I’m going to devour your soul, Kim Hongjoong.”

Ice filled Hongjoong’s veins. So it was true. Demons did come to the surface and steal people’s souls, just like they said in the old stories, just like his mom would tell him when she tucked him into bed when he was a kid. Demons were real, and they ate people’s souls. 

This was one hell of a way to find out.

“Why me?” asked Hongjoong, but he didn’t really care. He was backing away, trying to find a way around and to the front doors. 

The demon smiled. “I was enchanted by your flowers.”

He looked so human. So human, and so handsome, with sculpted features, strong cheekbones, plush lips set in an attractive line. But his canines were just a little too sharp, and sitting in his tousled black hair Hongjoong could see a set of black horns, thick and curved like a ram’s. 

“So because you liked my carnations, you thought you’d like my soul too?” Hongjoong took another step back, another to his right. 

The demon frowned, and it looked so human, so endearing, that for a moment Hongjoong was taken aback. “No,” said the demon, half in a pout. Hongjoong wanted to laugh in disbelief. “It wasn’t just the carnations.”

“Then? The daffodils, the gerbera, the gladiolas?” Hongjoong threw out all the names that he could think of, desperately stalling. “You’re a flower enthusiast?”

“Oh, no,” said the demon, and the dark, dangerous glint was back like it had never left. “The only thing I’m interested in is you, Hongjoong.”

Effortlessly, without warning, the demon vaulted over the counter and right towards Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong tried to back away, but it was too late. The demon was terrifyingly fast, and in a fraction of a second was right in front of Hongjoong, its clawed hand outstretched and ready to sink into Hongjoong’s chest—

And it stopped.

The demon’s hand stopped a hair’s breadth away from Hongjoong’s heaving chest. Hongjoong scrambled backwards, back hitting a nearby shelf as the demon stood right in front of him, frowning at its clawed hand in what was unmistakably confusion.

“Well that’s unusual,” said the demon.

Hongjoong bolted.

He just got around the edge of the curved counter when the demon landed on its feet inches in front of him. It grabbed at Hongjoong again, and again its hand stopped before it could touch him.

“What’s happening?” The demon was visibly confused. “Why can’t I—” 

Its words stopped abruptly as its gaze locked onto the center of Hongjoong’s chest. Hongjoong shuddered under its dark gaze.

“Take that off,” said the demon.

Hongjoong clutched his shirt on instinct—no one told him demons were perverts too—before he realized what the demon was looking at.

The wooden charm.

It would protect him, Yeosang had claimed. It seemed he’d been right.

Hongjoong gripped the charm around his neck tightly. “You—you can’t touch me while I’m wearing this, can you?” he asked.

“Of course I can,” said the demon. “I’m a demon, I can do whatever I want.” It sniffed, almost, like it was a spoiled kid that wasn’t getting his way. The idea of it was absurd, but that’s what it reminded Hongjoong of. 

It made Hongjoong bolder than he probably should’ve been. “Then try it,” he said, spreading one arm out in invitation. “Come on. Take my soul.”

The demon glared at Hongjoong, not moving. It looked one second away from stomping its feet.

“You can’t,” said Hongjoong, and he nearly laughed with triumph and relief. “You can’t touch me.”

For a second he thought the demon would try to attack him again, or screech, or destroy his precious flowers in its rage. But all it did was continue to glare, and say, “This isn’t over. You think you’ll have that on you all the time? You will be mine.”

“Get out of my shop,” spat Hongjoong. “Business hours are over, and I only entertain customers.”

The demon growled. And then it turned and walked away and straight out of Hongjoong’s shop.

Hongjoong waited until he was sure it was gone, and then he collapsed to the floor.

“Oh, thank god you’re here,” groaned Hongjoong.

Yeosang said nothing, only raised one perfect eyebrow.

The morning was bright and sunny. Golden rays danced on the edges of the petals in Hongjoong’s shop, and outside the birds sang and people strolled past, laughing and talking with each other. 

It felt like the exact opposite of what Hongjoong had gone through the night before. Like the universe was telling him everything would be okay.

“You sounded anxious on the phone,” said Yeosang. “What happened?”

“So much,” said Hongjoong, and wasn’t that the understatement of the century? “Last night, I—you brought him along?”

From behind Yeosang, Wooyoung raised his chin at Hongjoong. “’Sup, hyung?”

Hongjoong ignored him and turned to Yeosang desperately. “This is kind of serious,” he said. “Does he have to be here?”

“You know I can’t leave him unsupervised,” said Yeosang.

“He can’t,” agreed Wooyoung happily.

Hongjoong looked at the two of them, and then groaned in defeat. He had no idea why his mysterious, literally lifesaving friend stuck around that annoying guy, but he’d have to live with it. Half the time Yeosang went out he’d have Wooyoung with him, trailing happily like an overexcited puppy that never got properly trained.

“Okay, fine,” said Hongjoong. “But he can’t tell anyone about what happened.”

“Why?” Wooyoung leaned forward. “Was it something embarrassing?”

“I wish,” said Hongjoong, and he truly meant it.

He told the two what had happened the night before, not skipping a single detail. He had to stop twice, first to help a kid buy a few roses and again when widowed Grandma Jung bought a single white lily, but in the end Hongjoong was able to tell his entire story. 

Wooyoung’s mouth was open. “So you got attacked by a hot demon?” he asked.

“Why does it matter that it was hot?” hissed Hongjoong. “It was a demon.”

“You seemed to think it mattered that he was hot,” said Wooyoung. “You made sure to mention that.”

Hongjoong legitimately had no response to that.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” said Yeosang.

“You knew I’d get attacked by a demon?” demanded Hongjoong.

“More like I knew there was a chance,” said Yeosang. “Your energy is very strong, hyung. It’s why your flowers are always so perfect and healthy.”

Hongjoong thought back to what the demon had said, that it had been enchanted by his flowers. Maybe that’s what it meant.

He put the thought out of his mind. It didn’t matter. That demon had said a lot of stupid stuff, including a very cheesy line about how pretty Hongjoong was. Wooyoung had laughed hard at that. 

In hindsight, Hongjoong could see how he’d included a lot of details he really didn’t need to include in his story.

“A bit of warning would’ve been nice,” grumbled Hongjoong.

“Would you have believed me?” asked Yeosang.

That was a fair point. Hongjoong hadn’t even known demons existed until one trespassed into his flower shop and tried to eat him.

“You can’t be mad at him, Yeosang did save you with that,” said Wooyoung, pointing at the charm that hung around Hongjoong’s neck. 

“Yeah, he really did,” said Hongjoong. “Thank you, Yeosang.”

Yeosang shrugged, like it was no big deal that he’d literally saved Hongjoong’s life.

“So what now?” asked Hongjoong. “How do I keep that demon from coming back?”

“I don’t think you need to worry,” said Yeosang. “There are a million people in this city, all walking around unprotected. I doubt that demon wants you so badly he’d bother coming back.”

Hongjoong laughed. Yeosang was right. He might’ve had a strong energy or whatever, but there was no way he was worth the trouble of messing with. That demon had probably gone to find an easier target. Hongjoong just hoped it would tell all its friends too, that Hongjoong wasn’t worth it, that they shouldn’t bother with him.

Someone walked through the open front doors. Hongjoong looked up, pleasant smile ready on his face, and froze.

They looked human. So human, and so handsome, with sculpted features, strong cheekbones, plush lips set in an attractive line. There were no black ram’s horns in the tousled black hair, no claws at the ends of those elegant hands.

It was the demon.

It walked right up to Hongjoong, easy as anything. “Good morning,” it said, smiling. 

“What do you want?” asked Hongjoong through gritted teeth. “Get out.”

“Well that’s rude,” said the demon, pretending to be offended. “Is this how you treat all your customers?”

“Hyung, do you know him?” asked Yeosang warily.

Before Hongjoong could answer or shout out a warning, the demon turned to Yeosang and said, with an absolutely stunning smile, “Park Seonghwa. Nice to meet you.”

“Yes, you too,” said Yeosang, very decidedly not giving his name in return. He turned back to Hongjoong and asked, “You know each other?”

“Just met last night,” said the demon—or Seonghwa, as he called himself—looking at Hongjoong the entire time.

Hongjoong didn’t know what the demon was playing at, but he refused to go along. “He tried to eat me,” he said flatly. 

Wooyoung’s mouth dropped again, and he whipped his head from Hongjoong to Seonghwa and then back again. Yeosang tensed.

“Oh, relax, I won’t do anything,” said Seonghwa. He leaned against the counter and positively purred, “I only want you, Kim Hongjoong.”

“Get out of my shop,” growled Hongjoong.

“Ah, but you said you entertain customers,” said Seonghwa, with a smile and a twinkle in his eye that Hongjoong really did not like. “I am a customer, Hongjoong. I want to buy a flower.”

The night before, Hongjoong had been terrified. Now that he knew Seonghwa couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t even touch him so long as he kept on this simple charm, he wasn’t scared anymore. He was angry.

This demon waltzed right into his beloved flower shop, dressed in a light latte colored sweater and his dark hair perfectly tousled and falling over his forehead, smiling at Hongjoong like he hadn’t tried to eat him just the night before. Seonghwa knew he couldn’t hurt Hongjoong, and yet he still came here. Who the hell did he think he was?

Hongjoong reined in his temper. He wouldn’t gain anything by yelling at the demon, and it wasn’t like he could physically throw him out. Not only was Seonghwa much bigger and taller, he was a demon. 

So Hongjoong plastered the fakest, sourest smile on his face and asked, “What flower would you like?”

Seonghwa smiled pleasantly. “You decide.”

Hongjoong grit his teeth as he reached over the counter and grabbed a dahlia from the nearest rack. He had to lean right by Seonghwa as he did, their faces just inches away from each other, but Seonghwa made no move to put any distance between them.

“This,” said Hongjoong, slapping the bloom down on the counter. Usually he’d be more careful with his flowers, but this demon was getting on his nerves. He tied a ribbon around the stem like he always did, and then stiffly held it out.

Seonghwa took out his wallet, pulling it from his pants that were way too tight, they might as well be painted on, what the hell was he doing walking around like that? Terrible. Hideous. Hongjoong hated him. 

It took him a second to realize Seonghwa was handing him money. Hongjoong snatched the notes, not bothering to count them, and all but threw the dahlia into his hand.

“Thank you,” said Seonghwa politely. He looked around the shop and said, relaxed, “This place is quite nice. I might end up coming more often.”

“You’re not welcome,” snapped Hongjoong.

“Ah.” Seonghwa waved the dahlia around, smiling pleasantly. “I am a paying customer.”

Hongjoong glared at him. 

“Wow, you were right,” said Wooyoung. “He is hot.”

The biggest smile slowly spread on Seonghwa’s face, and he turned to Wooyoung. “I’m sorry, he said what about me?”

Hongjoong closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had a horrible feeling this was only the start of his misfortunes.

Chapter Text

Jasmine, orchids, carnations.

Every day it was something new.

Every day Seonghwa would stroll in, looking as human and as handsome as ever, and smile at Hongjoong as he bought a single flower.

Hongjoong had no idea what the demon was playing at. He knew he wanted Hongjoong’s soul or energy or whatever he apparently had a great amount of, but Seonghwa couldn’t touch him as long as he wore the protective charm, and they both knew it. Hongjoong never kept the charm out of arm’s reach, even sleeping with it. A reasonable thing to do when you were being stalked by a demon.

“I don’t think he’s stalking you,” said Wooyoung.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” said Hongjoong, viciously clipping leaves off a rose stem. “What would you call it then? He comes in here every day just to—to—”

“See your face,” said Wooyoung.

Hongjoong stopped and shot him a look. He didn’t like the dreamy way Wooyoung said it. “Leer at me,” he corrected. “It’s been around two weeks and he hasn’t missed a single day.”

“That’s commitment,” said Wooyoung, impressed.

“That’s stalking,” fumed Hongjoong. “What does he even do with the flowers? He probably throws them away.” As far as Hongjoong was concerned, that was almost worse than the whole soul eating thing. Flowers were supposed to share joy, or express feelings that couldn’t be conveyed with mere words. Seonghwa was disrespecting them by buying them only to keep tabs on Hongjoong.

Everything about Seonghwa annoyed Hongjoong.

“He gave me one.”

Hongjoong almost dropped the flower he was holding. “What?”

“Yeah, like maybe three days ago,” said Wooyoung. “I saw him walk out of the shop. He was carrying this yellow flower, and he gave it to me.” 

Immediately Hongjoong’s suspicion surged. “Why?” 

Wooyoung beamed. “He said it suited me.”

That made no sense. “That makes no sense,” said Hongjoong. 

“What?” Wooyoung was affronted. “Are you saying I’m not like a—a—some yellow flower with a ton of petals?”

“See? You don’t even know what flower it was,” said Hongjoong.

“Sorry I’m not a flower expert like you,” said Wooyoung, rolling his eyes. “Also sorry your demon crush gave me a flower and not you.”

Hongjoong sputtered. “He’s—he’s not—what?”

Wooyoung at once burst into a cackling laughter. “You should see your face!”

“Get out of my shop,” said Hongjoong. He raised the flower snips just an inch.

Wooyoung did leave, but not before first annoying Hongjoong thoroughly. The kid seemed convinced Seonghwa had some intention beyond the one he had plainly stated—eating Hongjoong’s soul—and it was ridiculous. He was a demon. He probably didn’t even have a heart in that firm, well-defined chest of his.

Hongjoong had to admit though that Seonghwa’s threats weren’t exactly… threatening. Technically he didn’t threaten Hongjoong at all. And although Hongjoong would never say it aloud, Seonghwa didn’t leer either. Yes he looked at Hongjoong, and maybe a little too intently and a little too long, but it wasn’t a leer. It was like he wasn’t even trying to scare Hongjoong.

Whatever, thought Hongjoong as he rearranged some lilies. 

Late in the afternoon, the devil himself appeared.

Seonghwa wore a loose knitted sweater in a wash of oranges and browns and a smile on his handsome face. “Good afternoon to my favorite florist,” he said as he strode to the counter. 

Hongjoong was in the middle of weaving flower crowns, and he couldn’t help but feel regretful that he’d already put away his wire cutters. They weren’t much of a weapon, but they were good for pointing threateningly.

“What are you doing?” asked Seonghwa, leaning over the counter and very deliberately giving Hongjoong a good view down the front of his sweater. He couldn’t have been wearing anything under there. Hongjoong got an eyeful of smooth chest before he remembered who—or rather, what—he was looking at and hurriedly raised his gaze.

He realized maybe a second too late that Seonghwa had asked him a question, and raised the flower crown in his hand in reply.

“Oh, great,” said Seonghwa. “I’ll take one.”

“They’re not for you,” said Hongjoong. High schoolers sometimes liked to buy them when they bunked after school lessons. “It wouldn’t suit you.”

“I disagree,” said Seonghwa. “And I am a paying customer.” 

Hongjoong was beginning to hate that phrase. He handed over the nearest completed flower crown to the demon, and took the offered money in exchange. He held out the change.

“You can keep it,” said Seonghwa. 

“I insist,” said Hongjoong. 

But Seonghwa only smiled and shook his head. Annoyed, Hongjoong tried to physically force the money into his hand, but Seonghwa hurriedly backed away.

“No contact, remember?” said Seonghwa. “I can’t touch you, but you can’t touch me either.”

“Oh.” Hongjoong stood there feeling like an idiot. He’d actually forgotten. 

“It’s a very powerful charm,” said Seonghwa. “You have a powerful friend.”

Hongjoong thought of Yeosang, whose ice cream always melted before he could finish it, and who flinched every time Wooyoung flailed his arms just an inch too close to his face. “Yeah, I’m very lucky,” he said. He snorted and said, “Especially since I’m like catnip or something to demons. Who knows when another one is gonna walk in and try and eat me?”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” said Seonghwa. “They’ll stay away from here.” 

Hongjoong frowned. “Why?”

“Because I told them to,” said Seonghwa. He smiled, tilted his head. 

“They can’t touch me anyway,” said Hongjoong.

“I know,” said Seonghwa. “But you don’t have to worry about your shop getting ruined. No demon will enter this building.”

“Except you,” said Hongjoong.

Seonghwa smiled. “Except me.”

Hongjoong said nothing in response, focusing again on his flower crowns. He didn’t like when Seonghwa smiled like that. The demon didn’t look mocking, or mischievous, or dangerous. He just looked… charming. 

“If you let me touch you, I could put a mark on your skin that would drive away demons even outside the shop.” 

Hongjoong put down the half-made crown to gape at Seonghwa in disbelief. “You mean take off this charm? The only thing keeping you from eating me? Do you think I’m insane?”

“I’m worried some other demon will try and get you while you’re somewhere else,” said Seonghwa, like Hongjoong hadn’t said anything. “You’re safe while you’re here but what about when you go to the market, or somewhere with your friends?” 

His brow was furrowed, and if Hongjoong didn’t know any better he’d think Seonghwa was genuinely concerned. But that couldn’t be right, could it? Seonghwa was a demon. The only thing he cared about was eating Hongjoong’s soul. 

“They won’t,” said Hongjoong, trying not to think about that. “The charm, remember?”

“There are so many ways a demon could try to get that off you,” said Seonghwa. “Dangerous ways. You could get hurt.”

“That’s alright,” said Hongjoong.

“I’m trying to look out for you,” said Seonghwa.

“And I’m saying I’ll take my chances.”

“Kim Hongjoong!” Seonghwa looked one second away from stomping his foot, but restrained himself.  

A few seconds of silence passed as Seonghwa chewed his bottom lip and Hongjoong tried to focus on his wreaths. Finally, he gave in. “When are you gonna get tired of this stupid game?” he asked with a heavy sigh. 

“What game?” asked Seonghwa, now looking up again. 

“This,” said Hongjoong. “I’m not taking off this charm and you’ll never eat my soul. When will you stop coming here?”

Seonghwa paused, and then said, “When I no longer have something to look forward to seeing.” 

He looked down at the flower crown in his hands, a ring of baby’s breath, delphiniums and pink orchids woven around, gently turning it over.

“You know what? I think you’re right,” said Seonghwa. “This wouldn’t suit me.”

He leaned across the counter and placed the flower crown on a very surprised Hongjoong’s head. 

“There,” said Seonghwa, smiling. “Much better.” 

He hadn’t touched Hongjoong at all, not even a hair. He’d just dropped the wreath from a few inches over the top of his head, and there it now sat. Hongjoong was stunned. 

“You paid for this,” he said, when he finally found his words again.

“Yes, so I can do whatever I want with it,” said Seonghwa. He looked at Hongjoong with eyes that shouldn’t have been so warm so dark. “You look beautiful.”

Hongjoong was still frozen after Seonghwa had already turned and left the shop.

“Um, excuse me.”

Hongjoong turned his attention back to the front of the counter with a smile. “Yes?”

“Um…” The teenage girl in school uniform looked at her male friend a step behind her, and after a bit of hesitation finally plucked up enough courage to speak. “Where’s the other oppa who works here?”

“The other oppa?” Hongjoong was confused. “I’m sorry, I’m the only one who works here.”

“Yeah but there’s another guy, isn’t there?” asked the male student. “The tall one with black hair. He—he gave me a flower yesterday and told me to visit here.” He blushed deeply.

Only one person could make someone blush that hard. Or, rather, one demon.

“I’m sorry, he doesn’t work here,” said Hongjoong, putting on a smile. “I’ll help you with anything you need.”

They got daisies for each other, but left the shop more disappointed than when they’d entered. When Seonghwa showed up a few hours later Hongjoong was even less pleased than usual. 

“Why are you going around hitting on high schoolers?” he demanded. “They’re just kids.”

Seonghwa looked so perplexed Hongjoong was almost swayed. “When did I flirt with anyone else?” he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Hongjoong ignored the phrasing of the question. Anyone else— “A kid came in saying you gave him a flower and told him to come here,” he said.

“Oh.” Seonghwa blinked, and then smiled. “Yes, I was getting you more customers. Promoting your shop.”

Now it was Hongjoong’s turn to be confused. “Why would you do that?”

Seonghwa looked at him like he’d asked the most obvious question in existence. “You said you don’t get as many customers when it gets cold,” he said.

But Hongjoong still didn’t understand. Seonghwa was only after his soul, he was a heartless demon, why would he care about Hongjoong’s shop—

“And, by the way, I didn’t flirt,” said Seonghwa very seriously. “With anyone. I just handed someone a flower and dropped your store’s name and address. I do that every day.”

“You didn’t do that with Wooyoung,” said Hongjoong. 

The words slipped out before he could stop them. He scrambled to take them back, deny that he’d maybe been thinking too much about Seonghwa giving Wooyoung flowers and blurt out whatever flimsy excuse he had for his terrible interest.

Seonghwa frowned. “Who’s Wooyoung?”

Hongjoong opened his mouth, and then closed it. “That guy,” he said finally. “Y’know, the loud one, with the bleached hair. He said you gave him a flower.” He side eyed Seonghwa. “You don’t know his name?”

Seonghwa shook his head. The action was disarmingly sweet.

“Well, good,” snapped Hongjoong, trying to hide how much that tiny action threw him off. It was getting too easy to forget that Seonghwa was a demon. “You don’t need to know him, or his name. Stay away from him.”

“You don’t need to worry,” said Seonghwa. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

“Shut up,” said Hongjoong, just a little too loud. “What flower do you want?”

“Surprise me,” said Seonghwa.

There were some gardenias Hongjoong had set aside to trim later, and he got out from behind the counter to grab one of them. Seonghwa watched him, not moving. Hongjoong held out the stalk, expecting Seonghwa to take it like he always did, but the demon hesitated. 

“What?” said Hongjoong, sounding more annoyed than he actually felt.

“Nothing,” murmured Seonghwa, and he very slowly reached out. 

Only as Seonghwa’s fingers closed on the stem above Hongjoong’s did Hongjoong realize why he had hesitated. Here, like this, without the counter between them, they didn’t feel like florist and customer. It was just Hongjoong giving Seonghwa a flower.

As soon as the bloom was out of his hand Hongjoong rushed back behind the safety of the counter. It was just a flimsy structure of plywood and glass, but right then it felt like a shield.

Seonghwa paid, and like always Hongjoong didn’t bother checking the amount or returning any change. But things felt different. Seonghwa held the flower up to his face, just the edges of his smile peeking out from behind it. Hongjoong fiddled with the money in his hands, not knowing what to say, or if he should even say anything. It was nothing. It was just a flower.

Just a flower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Seonghwa, still smiling.

“Y—yeah,” said Hongjoong stupidly. 

And Seonghwa smiled even more at that, like a white carnation reaching full bloom. 

“Hey! You okay?”

Hongjoong started, and said, “Yeah, why?”

Yunho looked at Hongjoong, and then glanced at the front door, which Hongjoong had been staring at. “You don’t look okay,” he said finally.

The truth was Hongjoong wasn’t okay. He’d woken up that morning feeling like shit—weak all over, dizzy, temperature just a touch shy of feverish. He hadn’t thought it bad enough to justify keeping the shop closed, so Hongjoong had forced himself up and ready, going through his routine in a daze. But it had only gotten worse the more the day went on, and now it was nearing sunset and Hongjoong felt even more like a zombie.

And worst of all, Seonghwa hadn’t come in yet. 

It wasn’t like Hongjoong was waiting for him so that he could finally close the shop. Of course he wasn’t. But the stupid demon was supposed to be here by now, and Hongjoong already had the flower he was going to give him all picked out and ready—no, wait, not give, he was going to sell that flower, he didn’t give flowers to Seonghwa—

“Hyung, I think you should rest.”

Hongjoong snapped back to reality. “I’m fine,” he said.

“You’re really not,” said Yunho. “It’s getting dark already, you can close up early one day.”

But Hongjoong couldn’t, because Seonghwa hadn’t come in yet, and he came in every day—

“Hyung,” said Yunho. “You’re super out of it.”

“I’m fine,” repeated Hongjoong. “I’ll close up soon. Go home before your mom starts worrying.”

Yunho didn’t look too convinced, but he did as told. He also got a small bunch of lilacs. For his mother, he claimed, but Hongjoong was willing to bet anything they were for that shy kid he went to the after school academy with. 

It was a slow afternoon. Hongjoong hadn’t had many customers over the past hour, and he could sit in his rickety little chair and rest his weak body, close his eyes for a moment. His head felt heavy on his shoulders and clouded at the edges. He couldn’t even remember half what he’d done since waking up in the morning. Whatever got Hongjoong got him good. 

It was probably Seonghwa’s fault. Hongjoong hadn’t figured out how yet, but he was sure of it. That stupid demon with his smile, and his flowers, and trying to get people to come to Hongjoong’s shop because he knew Hongjoong really cared about it and… 

And there he was.

Seonghwa had walked in who-knew-when, and stood now in front of the counter with an annoyingly worried expression on his handsome face. “Hongjoong,” he said. “You’re sick.”

I’m not, Hongjoong was about to say, but he got up too quick and the whole room spun. He fell back into his chair, legs giving out under him. 

Okay, he was definitely sick. But Hongjoong refused to let the demon know that. He didn’t want him to—to worry—

He tried to stand up again. This time he got to his feet, and even took a step forward. See? Just fine, Hongjoong wanted to say. And then his body gave up on him and he toppled over.

Right into someone’s arms.

Hongjoong’s head was spinning, but he knew something about this situation wasn’t right. Who’d caught him? There was no one else in the shop, no one except—

“You’re burning up,” said Seonghwa, voice right by Hongjoong’s ear. “What’s wrong with you? Why would you stay here if you were so sick?”

“What?” forced out Hongjoong. “What…?”

“You live upstairs, right?” said Seonghwa. He moved Hongjoong around in his arms, shifting him from against his chest to tucked in against his side. “I’m taking you home, is that okay?”

Things were happening, and they didn’t make sense to Hongjoong’s feverish brain, but he couldn’t stop himself from getting swept away. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s—that’s okay.”

“Can you walk?” asked Seonghwa. “Should I carry you?”

“I can walk,” said Hongjoong. “I should close up…”

A distant clang and rattle sounded from the direction of the front doors. “No one will come in,” said Seonghwa. “Let’s go.”

And Hongjoong just let Seonghwa take him towards the door at the back leading to the stairs. Seonghwa’s arm was around Hongjoong’s waist, holding him pressed against his own body. Hongjoong’s weak legs hardly carried any of his weight. 

When they got to the stairs, Seonghwa hooked his forearm behind Hongjoong’s knees and scooped him up into his arms. 

“I told you I could walk,” said Hongjoong, embarrassment burning hotter than the fever. 

“You can think of this as me taking advantage of you, then,” said Seonghwa. 

He carried Hongjoong like he weighed nothing to him. Which maybe he did. Seonghwa was a demon after all, and possessed some supernatural abilities. Of course he would have no problem carrying Hongjoong bridal-style up a flight of stairs.

“How are you doing this?” asked Hongjoong.

“Hmm?” Seonghwa opened the door and carried Hongjoong into his tiny front room. Hongjoong was sure he’d locked that this morning before leaving, but he couldn’t be sure. Locks didn’t seem to be a problem for Seonghwa anyway.

“This,” said Hongjoong, as Seonghwa found his bedroom and took him there. “You’re carrying me. I thought you couldn’t touch me, how did you carry me all the way here?”

“Demonic strength,” said Seonghwa. He gently deposited Hongjoong into his bed, like he was as fragile as glass, and then started tucking him in. “You don’t weigh much anyway. I could carry you around all night, if you’d let me.”

Hongjoong grabbed Seonghwa’s wrist. “Seonghwa,” he said.

The demon looked down at him, and then slowly straightened. “You stopped wearing that charm over a week ago, Hongjoong,” he said. 

“No,” said Hongjoong at once. “No, I put it on every day, I might’ve been a bit off today but I didn’t—”

He grabbed at his chest and felt nothing.

Panic surged through Hongjoong, cutting through his clouded mind. He felt around for the wooden charm all over his chest, and then at his sides, and then for the chain around his neck. Nothing.

He turned wide eyes on Seonghwa. He wasn’t wearing the charm. He was completely unprotected, too weak to even think of defending himself. Seonghwa could tear him apart any second.

But Seonghwa didn’t move. He just looked down at Hongjoong, face blank. And if Hongjoong looked in his eyes he thought he could see hurt. 

“Why?” asked Hongjoong, but he wasn’t even sure what he was asking.

Seonghwa bit his lower lip. And then he said, “I’ll make you something to eat,” and walked out of the room.

He didn’t leave. He made Hongjoong some soup or something Hongjoong couldn’t taste, dug out a tray Hongjoong didn’t even remember owning, and served it to him in bed. As Hongjoong slowly ate, he could hear Seonghwa moving things around in the kitchen, and then the sound of the front door opening and closing. Before Hongjoong could parse his feelings about Seonghwa leaving just like that—definitely not disappointment, or loss, that was for sure—the demon came back, and less than two minutes later he walked into Hongjoong’s bedroom with a glass of juice. 

He took the empty soup bowl away and handed Hongjoong the glass. Hongjoong took it silently. His mouth still tasted pretty foul, but the juice helped.

“I made you some stuff for later, if you get hungry,” said Seonghwa, busying himself with the tray. “And breakfast is also prepped and in the fridge. You shouldn’t open the shop tomorrow, although knowing you there’s probably no way you won’t.” He smiled to himself.

Hongjoong didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say now? Seonghwa was a demon. He was supposed to be heartless, only interested in eating Hongjoong’s soul. And yet here he was, carrying Hongjoong to bed, making him dinner and bringing him juice, looking at him with so much care and worry and fondness. 

“Thank you,” murmured Hongjoong.

Seonghwa smiled, and he looked nothing like a demon. “You can pay me back by taking better care of yourself from now on, okay?”

“Okay,” said Hongjoong, and Seonghwa smiled even wider at that.

He brought him medicine, and Hongjoong took the pills without even asking what they were. It was weird, but he trusted Seonghwa. It was just a feeling in Hongjoong’s chest that told him he should. And the feeling only grew when Seonghwa smiled at him before leaving, sparkling like dewdrops on hibiscus petals at dawn. 

Hongjoong didn’t open the shop the next day. He told himself it was his own decision, and he did it just because he wanted to, but maybe the thought of Seonghwa’s face clouded over with worry was the driving factor behind that decision. 

Either way, he had a lot of time to sit in his tiny home and think. By lunch the fever had pretty much burned off, and although Hongjoong still felt a little weak his head wasn’t clouded anymore, and he could examine last night’s events more clearly.

Last night. When Seonghwa had carried him home. When he’d made him dinner and even breakfast for the following morning. When he’d given him medicine and tucked him in. 

The breakfast had been pretty good, and the fridge and cabinets were stocked up with healthy food and snacks Hongjoong was sure hadn’t been there before. Seonghwa had taken care of him, and not in the mafia way. He’d done it in the considerate and loving boyfriend way. 

Hongjoong didn’t know what was worse. Knowing that Seonghwa could’ve devoured his soul any time over the last week and hadn’t, or that the demon had carried Hongjoong against his chest, in his arms, and been so perfectly sweet and lovely and Hongjoong hadn’t exactly hated it. If he was being honest, he’d actually really liked it. 

“He’s a demon, he doesn’t care about anything except eating my soul,” muttered Hongjoong, but even as he said it he knew it wasn’t true.

The next day Hongjoong opened the shop again. He got a fair amount of customers, mostly regulars asking if he was alright after noticing the shop had been closed the day before. Yeosang came by shortly after lunch, Wooyoung tagging along like always.

“So you are alive,” said Yeosang. 

“I only closed for one day,” said Hongjoong, organizing receipts. “You dropped by yesterday? You could’ve called.”

“No,” said Yeosang. “I was sent to check on you. I gotta admit, I thought you’d be in a much worse state. You’re perfectly fine.”

“I am,” said Hongjoong. He stopped. “Sent by who?”

“Your demon boyfriend,” said Wooyoung.

“He’s—he’s not—” Hongjoong sputtered. Boyfriend? 

“He came by the temple,” said Yeosang, unbothered. “Of course, he couldn’t enter. He threw stones at the window until I came out.”

“He said you were sick,” said Wooyoung. “Wanted us to make sure you were okay. He looked super worried, so it’s kind of disappointing to see you’re okay.”

“What do you mean, disappointing?” snapped Hongjoong, smacking at Wooyoung with a receipt to avoid thinking about the other thing he’d said. Seonghwa had probably seen the shop closed the day before, and assumed Hongjoong’s condition had worsened, so he’d gone to get Yeosang and Wooyoung to check up on him. 

Well he didn’t need to do that. He could’ve just come to see Hongjoong himself, why’d he send someone else instead—

Hongjoong stopped that thought. Where did that come from? He wasn’t upset Seonghwa hadn’t come himself! 

Besides, he’d probably show up later in the day. He had to buy his daily flower. Hongjoong went back to his work, more satisfied than before. 

Yeosang bought a few flowers for the temple, and then he and Wooyoung left. Hongjoong spent the afternoon picking the flower he’d give Seonghwa, and then overthinking it to the moon and back. A rose in dark pink was a symbol of gratitude, which was fitting after everything Seonghwa had done for him when he’d been sick, but what if he misunderstood? It did look kind of red. What if Seonghwa thought Hongjoong was trying to flirt with him? Hongjoong would die of embarrassment, and Seonghwa would—

He would hold the rose up to his face and smile behind it, sweeter than any flower. He would look at Hongjoong with his dark but warm eyes, his sincere, gentle gaze, and he would thank Hongjoong, voice soft. And he might tell Hongjoong to take better care of himself next time, admonish him for making him worry, and then he would smile again just so Hongjoong would know he wasn’t really angry. 

Hongjoong stared at the dark pink rose and realization hit. 

And just like that, he knew what he had to do. 

It was late afternoon when Seonghwa entered the shop, dressed in a black button down shirt to match his hair swept away from his face. The sun was golden behind him as he walked forward, and there was a gentleness in his smile and air, like he was carrying it along with him. Hongjoong stowed the pink rose under the counter and stood, heart pounding.

“How are you?” asked Seonghwa. 

“Fine,” said Hongjoong, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. What was wrong with him? He’d spoken to Seonghwa a hundred times over, he couldn’t be nervous now.

“I’m glad,” said Seonghwa. “I saw you didn’t open yesterday and assumed the worst…” He trailed off with a light laugh.

“I’m okay,” said Hongjoong. He hesitated, and then went for it. “Thank you. For… everything.”

Seonghwa smiled. “You don’t need to thank me.” 

“You helped me out,” said Hongjoong. “You didn’t have to do all that. Thank you.”

“I didn’t mind,” said Seonghwa. “Just don’t push yourself so hard next time, okay? I was worried.”

Hongjoong dropped his gaze to the counter and nodded. 

Silence fell over the two of them. Hongjoong fiddled with the scraps of ribbon he had in front of him, not knowing where to go from here. He waited for Seonghwa to make a move, but the demon didn’t. He just stood there and watched him. Hongjoong didn’t raise his head to see what look he had in his eyes.

In the end, Hongjoong couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Seonghwa—” 

“I’ll stop coming here if you want.”

Hongjoong looked up in surprise. “Huh?”

“I’ll stop coming around if it makes you uncomfortable,” said Seonghwa. He looked awkward, and hurt almost, like he wished he was anywhere else or saying anything but this. He chewed his red bottom lip. “I know I crossed some boundaries, I shouldn’t have touched you—”

“No.” Hongjoong moved around the counter, no longer wanting its shield. “No, are you crazy? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay, I know you were only putting up with it because you didn’t know how to get rid of me,” said Seonghwa. He hesitated. “And since you know you’re not really safe…”

“I am,” said Hongjoong. “I am safe, with you.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, and Hongjoong saw more of that glimmering warmth in them than ever before. 

It brought the words out of him all at once. “Why do you keep coming here?” asked Hongjoong. “You could’ve eaten my soul or whatever any time you wanted. You could’ve done it two nights ago. Why do you keep coming back to my shop?”

Seonghwa looked back at him with dark eyes wide. It suddenly hit Hongjoong that as he’d needed the boundary line of the counter, Seonghwa had needed it just as much. 

“Seonghwa,” said Hongjoong. 

The demon jerked out of his stunned state. “Sorry,” he said, averting his gaze. “Sorry, I just…”

“I have your flower for today,” said Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa started, and then relaxed. “Oh, yes,” he said. “What I came for. Your choice, right?” He smiled, but it looked awkward.

“Right,” said Hongjoong. 

He leaned over the counter to reach the flower underneath, and Seonghwa stepped back to give him space. A thorn dug into Hongjoong’s thumb but he ignored it and pulled the stem out. 

As soon as Seonghwa saw the bloom his face lit up. “That’s a rose,” he said. “You never let me buy a rose.”

“I’m not letting you buy it,” said Hongjoong. He held it out. “It’s a gift.”

Seonghwa’s hand froze halfway to taking it. He looked up at Hongjoong, uncertainty and a question swimming in his dark eyes. 

In reply, Hongjoong held out his left hand too.

Seonghwa looked down at it, and then back up into Hongjoong’s eyes. 

Hongjoong stood still, offering a rose and his hand, heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew it was right. It felt right. 

Slowly, like flowers blooming after frost, Seonghwa reached out and took Hongjoong’s hand.

Careful, almost cautious, Seonghwa clasped his hand around Hongjoong’s. Then he stepped closer and took the rose, fingers running over Hongjoong’s. He smiled, and he was just like a rose himself, the prettiest bloom Hongjoong had ever had in his shop. 

“Is there—oh, I’m sorry!”

Hongjoong jumped and whipped his head around to see a high school kid by the front doors, standing there and staring at him and Seonghwa awkwardly. 

Before he could say anything, Seonghwa said, “I’m sorry, we’re closed. Come back later.”

“Right,” said the kid. He looked down at Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s linked hands, and shifted. “You’re busy. Cool.”

Embarrassed, Hongjoong tried to step back, but Seonghwa firmly held onto his hand. The high school kid bowed and made a quick escape. As soon as he was gone Hongjoong watched the doors swing shut and heard the click of the lock.

“Sorry about that,” said Seonghwa with a sheepish smile. “It’s just—you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

Hongjoong looked up into his earnest eyes, and felt the last of his embarrassment melt away. “Yeah?” He grinned. “That was a paying customer, Seonghwa. How are you going to cover my loss?”

Seonghwa’s smile changed to something more confident, and he leaned forward. “I can give you something better.” 

Hongjoong closed the remaining distance to kiss him. 

Chapter Text

“Are you insane?” hissed Yeosang. “You’re dating him? The demon?”

“Shut up,” Hongjoong hissed back. “I didn’t say that.”

“You did!”

“You did,” said Wooyoung casually.

“I didn’t,” said Hongjoong, glaring daggers at him. “I just said I’ve realized he’s not any danger to me, so I’ve stopped wearing the charm.”

“Then why did you make out with him?” asked Yeosang.

“I didn’t,” lied Hongjoong.

“Oh, don’t try,” said Yeosang. “I can see his demonic energy lingering on your lips.”

Hongjoong automatically slapped a hand over his mouth. Yeosang could see that?

On cue, Wooyoung broke into howling laughter, while Yeosang just stared at Hongjoong, deeply unimpressed. “He was bluffing,” said Wooyoung, between loud cackles. “But thanks for confirming.”

“That was evil,” said Hongjoong, feeling himself burn red. 

“Don’t talk to me about evil, demon-lover,” snapped Yeosang.

Hongjoong was ready to argue—Seonghwa was not evil—when he glanced at the approaching customer and saw he was no customer at all. 

“Good morning,” said Seonghwa breezily, sauntering up to the counter. “Hongjoong, you look as beautiful as ever today.” 

“Shut up,” grumbled Hongjoong, pretending like he wasn’t blushing cherry red. 

“What do you want?” asked Yeosang, gaze sharp on Seonghwa.

“I came to see Hongjoong,” said Seonghwa, blinking in surprise. “And to get my daily flower, of course.”

“You don’t need to keep doing that,” said Hongjoong, but secretly he was glad for the opportunity to get away from the counter and away from this conversation. He went to fetch an aster, petals spread in a display of pink, and tied around its stem a ribbon of white.

“You’d go bankrupt without my business, Hongjoong,” said Seonghwa, and Hongjoong snorted and grinned to himself as he trimmed the edge of the stem. 

“I told you,” said Wooyoung excitedly, shaking Yeosang. “I told you he didn’t want Hongjoong-hyung’s soul, he just wanted him to hop on his—”

Hongjoong slammed his flower snips on the countertop. “Shut,” he growled. 

Wooyoung cackled, not scared a lick. He cackled even louder when he looked at Seonghwa and found him staring back at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. 

Yeosang watched this all in silence. And then he said, “If you hurt him, I will exorcise you.”

“You’re welcome to try right now, if you’d like,” said Seonghwa, leaning on the counter. “You won’t get another chance, because I’ll never hurt him, or let anyone else hurt him.”

He was once again the calm, collected demon that walked into the shop every day with a smile and a ready quip. Hongjoong thought he might’ve liked it better when he was flustered and blushing. Then at least Seonghwa wouldn’t be spouting lines like these that made Hongjoong flustered. 

Yeosang peered at him. And then, seemingly satisfied, said, “Let’s go, Wooyoung.”

The two of them left the shop, Wooyoung loudly discussing hot demons and his chances of snagging one on the way out. Hongjoong really had no idea how or why Yeosang put up with him.

With them gone, Hongjoong was left alone with Seonghwa, and could finally give him his full attention. The demon wore his dark hair down, slightly curled, and it gave him an innocent look. The warm smile on his face added to the effect.

Really, if Hongjoong thought about it, Seonghwa was more like an angel than a demon.

“You told them?” asked Seonghwa, still with that smile. “About us?”

Us. The word felt a little strange to think about, but not in a bad way. “I didn’t really,” said Hongjoong, shrugging. “They just knew.” 

“So you were that obvious,” said Seonghwa. The smile took on more of a smirk. He twisted his body to lean over the counter on his elbows, get his face as close to Hongjoong’s as he could. 

“You wish,” scoffed Hongjoong. Damn, he really was that obvious. He sought for a way to change the topic and said, “Why? You told all your friends about—about us?” He stopped. “You do have friends, right?”

Seonghwa laughed, pure and bright. “Yes, I do,” he said. “And I did tell them, a long time ago. Though I didn’t really need to either.”

“A long time ago?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Since I started coming to the surface, every day, to just look at a person and leave,” said Seonghwa. He looked down and smiled to himself. “I guess I was that obvious.” 

Hongjoong watched him a moment, and then, without thinking, reached out and held Seonghwa’s hand on the counter, slipping the aster into his grip at the same time.

The demon started, and then relaxed and smiled. He laced his fingers with Hongjoong’s, straightening and pulling Hongjoong closer until he was standing right against the wooden edge.

“May I?” asked Seonghwa, motioning to their locked hands.

Hongjoong had no idea what he was asking permission for. He nodded.

Seonghwa pulled Hongjoong’s hand up to his face and held the back of it to his cheek, aster still in his grasp. “Sorry, I know this is too forward,” he said, and Hongjoong could almost feel his lips brush against his hand. “I’ve kind of wanted to touch you since forever.”

“It’s fine,” said Hongjoong, breathless. “It’s perfect.”

“So this is okay?” asked Seonghwa, still holding Hongjoong’s hand close. “I can do this? And more maybe, in the future?” He looked hopeful. 

“Yeah,” said Hongjoong. He felt like he was under a spell, but one he’d chosen willingly. One he’d finally let take him. 

Seonghwa smiled and pressed a kiss to the back of Hongjoong’s hand. 

Technically, this was supposed to be Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s first date. Not officially, since Hongjoong hadn’t used that exact word, but technically. Coffee, a movie, some food after. A date. 

But instead here they were, in Hongjoong’s shop, moving boxes while the sun set outside.

“I’m so sorry,” said Hongjoong. “I told him to drop these off tomorrow, I have no idea why he had to come by now…”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” said Seonghwa, carefully picking up a crate of preserved flowers. He eyed them carefully, and then set them down away from the door.

“You don’t need to worry about those,” said Hongjoong. “You can go home, I’ve got this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Seonghwa. “I’m not going to leave you to work by yourself. Tell me what I need to do.”

“You don’t need to do anything,” insisted Hongjoong, but Seonghwa looked at him, unimpressed.

“I was stubborn enough to see you every day for weeks,” said the demon. “Don’t try to out-stubborn me, Kim Hongjoong. Now tell me how I can help.”

Hongjoong grumbled a little more, but eventually gave in. He didn’t know if it was because of Seonghwa’s stubbornness or Hongjoong’s rapidly growing, scary inability to refuse him. It turned out to be a good call, because Seonghwa was strong enough to move everything with ease, until all that was left was for Hongjoong to categorize receipts, and he sat on the floor in the middle of the shop with all of them scattered around him, trying to make sense of them. 

“You’re really bad at this.”

Hongjoong glared up at Seonghwa. “Nobody asked you.”

“Someone should,” said Seonghwa. He found an empty patch of floor and sat down beside Hongjoong, long coat elegantly fanned around him. “Then I could help.”

Normally Hongjoong would refuse, but Seonghwa had proven himself to be dependable many times over, and Hongjoong could do with the offered help. “You know how to do this?”

“No, Hongjoong, I am a demon,” said Seonghwa, collecting scattered receipts. “I never used human money before I started patronizing your shop.”

Hongjoong groaned and batted at him to leave. But Seonghwa stayed where he was, organizing the best he could. He got them all ordered by on date, and then categorized them based on type. Hongjoong watched it all in awe. 

“You’re amazing,” he said. 

Seonghwa smiled, embarrassed, ducking his head. “Not really.”

“Really,” insisted Hongjoong. “This would’ve taken me hours. I’m useless at this organizing stuff.”

“That’s why you have me,” said Seonghwa. 

“Free labor?” Hongjoong chuckled.

“Not free,” said Seonghwa, with a little smile. “I do expect payment. Free flowers for a few days, to start. Maybe a few more hours with you.”

Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa and his small, beautiful smile. And then, emboldened, he leaned over and kissed him. Soft, sweet, gentle. He felt Seonghwa’s lips curl into a smile as he returned the kiss. 

When Hongjoong pulled back, he kept a hand loosely cupping Seonghwa’s face. “Deal,” he said. 

Seonghwa smiled, big and bright, and leaned in for another kiss. 

“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” said Hongjoong. 

The young man standing in front of the shop smiled. “That’s okay,” he said. “I didn’t come to buy flowers.”

Hongjoong frowned. “Then what are you looking for?”

The stranger didn’t answer. Instead he motioned to Hongjoong’s grocery bags and said, “You live here?” 

“On the first floor,” said Hongjoong. 

“That’s nice,” said the man. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to—” 

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes going round. Hongjoong realized he was staring at something over his shoulder, and turned. 

“Let me take those, sweetheart,” said Seonghwa, gently pulling the bags from Hongjoong’s grip. He looked at the stranger and smiled. “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

“N—no,” said the other, voice shaking. His gaze darted from Seonghwa to Hongjoong and back again, like a frightened rabbit faced with a pack of wolves.

“Then I think you should leave,” said Seonghwa pleasantly.

The man fled. He ran backwards at first, seemingly too scared to take his eyes off the two of them, before his nerve broke and he turned around to run at full speed. 

Hongjoong watched him go. “What just happened?” he asked finally. 

“A bottom feeder almost made a very big mistake,” said Seonghwa. The locked doors of the shop swung open in front of him, and he entered. Hongjoong scrambled to follow. 

“A bottom feeder?” he repeated, confused, until it suddenly hit him and he stopped dead. “That was a demon?”

Seonghwa hummed. “He knew he wasn’t supposed to enter this building,” he said. “He was trying to be clever, getting you outside. I can’t imagine a demon trying anything more stupid.”

Hongjoong blinked, still trying to process recent events as Seonghwa went upstairs with the bags. By the time he snapped out of it and went up to his apartment, he saw Seonghwa had already put away all the fruit and vegetables and was now stowing things in the cupboards. It was spring but the weather was still a little chilly, and Hongjoong had stocked up on those fragrant teas Seonghwa liked so much. 

“So that was a demon,” said Hongjoong. “And you scared him away.”

Seonghwa nodded, busy rearranging boxes in the cupboard. 

“He seemed pretty scared of you,” said Hongjoong. “More than pretty scared, actually. He was terrified.”

“He knew he wasn’t supposed to try and get around my mark of protection,” said Seonghwa.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s it,” said Hongjoong. “You’re a big shot demon, aren’t you?”

Seonghwa stopped. “No,” he said, and then went back to shuffling boxes around.

“You are,” said Hongjoong, grinning, half in disbelief. “You’re so obvious. Holy shit, I’m dating, like, a prince of Hell or something—”

As fast as lightning Seonghwa was by Hongjoong’s side, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say that,” he hissed. “I am not a—I am not. You’ll get me in trouble.”

Hongjoong wrenched Seonghwa’s palm off his mouth. “But you’re close,” he said, giddy. “You are a big shot.”

Seonghwa sighed and gave in. “Yes,” he said. “I’m—I’m no weakling, let’s just say.”

“Awesome,” said Hongjoong. 

“You’re not scared?” asked Seonghwa warily.

“Are you kidding? This is amazing,” said Hongjoong with a laugh. “My boyfriend is a big name in Hell. How many people get to say that?” He looked at Seonghwa’s stunned expression and laughed again. “If I was going to be scared by something like this, I wouldn’t be with you.”

“Well…” Seonghwa chuckled and shook his head, seemingly to himself.

“Yeah, exactly,” said Hongjoong, wrapping an arm around Seonghwa’s middle. Seonghwa melted into his embrace immediately. The demon loved touch. “What if some other demon comes around to steal my soul though?”

“They won’t,” said Seonghwa, burying his nose into the crook of Hongjoong’s neck. “I’m gonna mark you up so everyone knows you’re mine. I’ll stick right by your side just in case.”

Hongjoong laughed and pulled Seonghwa in closer. 

“You’re disgusting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Hongjoong, sweetheart, where should I put these rosebuds?”

“You can leave them by the back door,” said Hongjoong, turning to call out over his shoulder. Seonghwa smiled at him and nodded before moving over to where he was instructed. Hongjoong watched him a moment, smile lingering on his face, before getting back to his conversation.

“Disgusting,” repeated Yeosang flatly.

The days were reaching sweltering as they marched into the height of summer, and with the sun rising so early Hongjoong would find himself in his shop before opening, drinking iced tea or juice before it got too hot. Some days, like today, Yeosang would walk over from the temple to join him. 

“If you’re gonna keep insulting me, I’m gonna stop giving you discounts on your offering flowers,” said Hongjoong.

“You know, I told myself I was okay with this,” continued Yeosang, like Hongjoong hadn’t even said anything. “Being in a relationship with a demon. Letting him in your store, in your apartment, letting him touch you. And it’s been so long and I thought I was, really. But must you be like this?”

“Like what?” Hongjoong didn’t understand.

“Like this,” said Yeosang, jabbing a finger at where Seonghwa was spraying water on some flowers. “The pet names, the loving looks, the domesticity. Must you be so romantic?”

Hongjoong sputtered. Him? Romantic? Never! He was the least romantic person who had ever owned a flower shop. Yes, he and Seonghwa had been together awhile now and it was going great, but Hongjoong was not romantic—

A light touch settled in his recently dyed silver hair, and fingertips trailed his ear. A flower was set behind it. Hongjoong looked up to find Seonghwa standing behind his chair, a smile on his face. 

“I told you to stop doing that,” said Hongjoong, but he couldn’t sound stern no matter how much he tried. “We have to sell these, you can’t keep putting them in my hair.”

“But that’s where they look the prettiest,” said Seonghwa sweetly. “We’ll sell more if people see you wearing them.”

“Then you should wear one too,” said Hongjoong, getting to his feet. “And I know which one would suit you.” He looked back at Yeosang and said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes and waved him away. 

There were clusters of delphiniums Hongjoong had reserved for bouquets and a few wreaths, and he found a perfect blossom in pale blue. Seonghwa leaned forward obediently, giving Hongjoong a good angle. Hongjoong smiled to himself as he set the flower among his black waves. 

When Seonghwa straightened, the flower slipped right out of his hair and he caught it in midair. Hongjoong frowned. “How do you get yours to stay in my hair?” he asked.

“Demonic talent,” said Seonghwa, grinning. 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. Seonghwa reached out to put his hands on Hongjoong, and Hongjoong laughed and gently shoved him before giving in the next second. Seonghwa wrapped his arms around Hongjoong’s waist and pulled him in close. 

“Don’t crush that delphinium,” murmured Hongjoong. “If you won’t wear it I’ll sell it.”

“Oh, no, I’ll wear it,” said Seonghwa, smiling. “My beautiful boyfriend gave it to me.” 

One of Seonghwa’s many talents was his ability to hold eye contact, gazing into Hongjoong’s eyes until Hongjoong found himself heating up under the attention, just like now. “Stop that,” grumbled Hongjoong. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” asked Seonghwa innocently.

Hongjoong grumbled wordlessly and pushed at Seonghwa with no strength. In response Seonghwa laughed, and leaned down to chastely kiss the side of Hongjoong’s neck.

“Are you crazy?” hissed Hongjoong, now shoving him in earnest. He might as well have pushed a building. “We’re in public!”

“There’s no one here except us,” murmured Seonghwa.

“What are you talking about? There’s Yeosang—” Hongjoong turned and found the other seat empty too. He frowned, confused. When had Yeosang left? “Huh, he’s gone,” he said. “I wonder why he disappeared.”

“Total mystery,” said Seonghwa, lips moving against Hongjoong’s skin. He nipped at his neck with blunt teeth, arms tightening around his waist.

“Stop that, we’re opening in a few minutes,” said Hongjoong, but it wasn’t much of a protest. He’d already reached up to rest his arms on Seonghwa’s shoulders, entangle his fingers into his dark hair. The ram horns he usually hid were manifesting once more.

“You can’t refuse to let me hold you,” grumbled Seonghwa. “Not after wearing a charm that made it physically impossible for me to touch you for weeks.”

“How long are you gonna bring that up?” asked Hongjoong with a laugh.

“As long as I can still use it to get my way.”

Hongjoong laughed again and let Seonghwa hold him even closer. It was funny, because he knew he’d always let Seonghwa get his way. 

“Park Seonghwa! I told you not to put things on the top shelf!”

“Don’t tell me you can’t reach, Hongjoong. It’s not even that high.”

“Why else would I tell you not to put anything up there?”

“Why would you build the cupboards up so high when you’re so short?”

“They were there before I moved in, you jerk!”

Seonghwa walked into the kitchen, ruffling his hair. “Just tell me you want me to get something down from there,” he said. “What is it?”

“I wouldn’t need you to if you didn’t put anything up there,” fumed Hongjoong. He pointed at the jar he wanted and Seonghwa reached up and grabbed it. Hongjoong snatched it from his grip. 

“You were keeping things on the kitchen floor, Hongjoong,” said Seonghwa. “That’s not right.”

“I had a system,” said Hongjoong, bristling.

“And that included putting things on the floor?” said Seonghwa in disbelief. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do when I want something else from up there and you’re not here?” shot back Hongjoong. “Am I just supposed to wait for you to come home?”

“I’m always here,” said Seonghwa. “When am I not here?”

“That—” Hongjoong stopped. Now that he thought about it, Seonghwa was always in his apartment. He pretty much lived there now. He’d been watching TV in the living room, as comfortable as anything, before Hongjoong had yelled at him enough to get him to come grab a jar of almonds for him. 

“See? No issue,” said Seonghwa. “Now can I go back to that drama I was watching? I think Jaeho is finally going to confess to Gaeun.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything he forgot the words. Seonghwa was wearing a pair of black pyjama bottoms, a gray sweatshirt against the winter chill that snuck inside, no shoes. His hair was a mess of black on his head. He wasn’t neat or made up at all. He looked like he was at home. 

“Sweetheart?” Seonghwa waved a hand in front of Hongjoong’s face.

Hongjoong started back to reality. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, uh, thanks. For the almonds.”

“It’s nothing,” said Seonghwa, smiling warmly. He squeezed Hongjoong’s hand, and then returned to the living room. 

Not long after, Hongjoong followed. He took a spot on the couch beside Seonghwa. Automatically Seonghwa moved in closer, pressing in against Hongjoong’s side and shifting until he was comfortable.

They watched in silence for a few minutes. “Seonghwa,” said Hongjoong softly.

Seonghwa hummed in response, absorbed in the drama.

“Where do you live?” asked Hongjoong. 

“When I’m below surface? I have a house.”

“And when you’re… not?” asked Hongjoong slowly.

“Here,” said Seonghwa, distracted. “Where else?”

Hongjoong looked down at the messy head against his side, horns sitting neatly among black curls, and felt a strange sort of warmth spread in his chest. “Yeah,” he said, soft, only to himself. “Where else?”

He tapped an almond against Seonghwa’s lips, and Seonghwa opened his mouth to let him feed him, eyes on the screen the entire time. Hongjoong smiled to himself and popped an almond into his own mouth. 

His arms were around Hongjoong’s waist, legs hooked onto one of Hongjoong’s. His head weighed down Hongjoong’s chest, pinning him in place, and any movement only had him hold on tighter. 

The demon had Hongjoong in his clutches.

“Seonghwa, let go already,” said Hongjoong, sighing. “I need to start getting ready.”

“It’s too early,” grumbled Seonghwa. 

They’d been awake almost an hour now, but Hongjoong knew that wouldn’t sway Seonghwa. Instead he said, “You’re gonna make us late to open the shop.”

“It’s your shop, you can open it as late as you like,” said Seonghwa. He attached himself even more firmly to Hongjoong, if that was possible. 

“I need to sell as much as I can,” said Hongjoong, grinning. “Especially now that I have a freeloading demon living with me.”

“Hey, I help out in the shop,” said Seonghwa indignantly. 

“Okay, fine,” said Hongjoong with a laugh. “Will you at least let me go so that I can go make breakfast?” 

“No, you can’t cook worth a damn,” said Seonghwa. He groaned and let go of Hongjoong, sitting up in one swift motion. “I’ll start breakfast.”

Hongjoong beamed. “Thanks.”

Seonghwa frowned down at him, and then cracked and smiled, shaking his head. “You can stay in bed, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll shower first.”

So Hongjoong got to spend a few more minutes rolling around in bed while Seonghwa showered. By the time Hongjoong walked out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, the air was already filled with the scent of toasted bread and eggs sizzling in a hot pan. Outside rain fell in a steady downpour. 

“Look at the weather,” said Seonghwa, glancing at Hongjoong as he walked into their small kitchen. “Do you think anyone’s even going to come to buy flowers in this rain?”

“You’d be surprised,” said Hongjoong. “People always buy more in spring.”

“Your weather is horrible,” said Seonghwa with a shake of his head. He was busy at the counter, slicing strawberries with a practiced hand. 

“Yeah? And how’s your weather?” Hongjoong leaned over the table and grinned. 

“Oh, you know,” said Seonghwa. “Rains of acid and gardens of fire and brimstone. The usual.”

Hongjoong never knew if Seonghwa was joking when he said things like that. “Doesn’t sound very pleasant,” he said.

Seonghwa turned around, bowl of fruit in hand and a smile on his face. He set it down in front of Hongjoong and said, “It’s much nicer being here with you, that’s for sure.”

Hongjoong looked up at him and smiled, and the smile Seonghwa returned was just like a perfect bloom. 

He touched the ends of Hongjoong's damp hair. “I like this color,” he said. “It would be nice if you kept this one for some time.”

The pink Hongjoong had dyed his hair had faded out into a sweet strawberry frosting color, and he smiled as he thought about how he could keep it this exact shade as long as possible. “More than the black?” he asked. “I thought that was your favorite.”

“That was good too,” said Seonghwa as he returned to the stove. “Every color suits you anyway.”

Hongjoong smiled at Seonghwa’s back. It was impossible to respond when he spoke so plainly and sincerely. 

“Sweetheart, where’s that nice jug with the blue edging?” asked Seonghwa, busy over a frying pan. “I swear it was here.”

“I think I left it downstairs,” said Hongjoong. “I had lemonade with Uncle Yoon yesterday, remember? I’ll go get it.”

“You don’t need to, it’s fine,” said Seonghwa, but Hongjoong was already out of his chair and heading towards the front door.

“I’ll be right back,” he called out over his shoulder. “Don’t start eating without me.”

He went downstairs. The shop was still and quiet, only the steady drumming of rain on the windows cutting through the silence. It was dark inside. The heavy cloud cover made it look more night than morning, and it took Hongjoong a while to let his eyes adjust. 

The jug was sitting under the counter. Hongjoong snorted, imagining Seonghwa’s reaction if he’d seen Hongjoong kept it on the floor, and then picked it up.

Looking around the dark, quiet flower shop, Hongjoong was suddenly reminded of another time, a time that felt like ages ago. It had been dark then too, but pitch black darkness, the darkness of autumn night not rainy spring morning. Hongjoong had been under that counter, right where he’d left that jug. There had been something in the shop with him and he’d been scared that he was going to die. 

But he hadn’t. And here he was now, holding a nice jug he hadn’t bought, while upstairs a nice breakfast waited for him. 

Hongjoong roamed the shelves and picked a few of the nicest blossoms. Carnations, gardenias, peonies. Lush, full flowers with soft pink petals and delicate scents. He dug out the best roses of pale gold and pink and added them to the makeshift bouquet in his hands, taking care not to cut himself on the thorns. He took them and gathered them, and then stood behind the counter, rearranging them in his hands. The flowers were full, maybe a little too much for a proper, aesthetic bouquet, but he found that he didn’t really care.

A light touch settled on Hongjoong’s back. He jumped before he relaxed and smiled.

“What are you doing?” asked Seonghwa, as his hands slid around and he pressed his front to Hongjoong’s back. “Breakfast’s getting cold.”

“Just picking some flowers,” said Hongjoong. “We can put them on the kitchen table.”

“I thought we weren’t allowed to steal the merchandise,” said Seonghwa, settling his chin on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “I distinctly remember you threatening to ban me from the shop if I did it again.”

“I’m the owner, I get a free pass,” said Hongjoong with a grin. Seonghwa snorted but couldn’t argue with that.

They stood like that a while, Hongjoong silently moving the flowers around in his hands as his thoughts wandered. Seonghwa just held him from behind silently. He loved contact, and Hongjoong was more than willing to indulge him. Outside the rain fell steadily, neverending, pattering against the windows and the glass storefront and softening the silence. 

“Hey,” said Hongjoong softly. 

Seonghwa hummed a question. 

“Why didn’t you eat me?”

Seonghwa snorted. “I don’t know if you remember, but I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, the charm, of course,” said Hongjoong. “But I mean after. You could’ve eaten my soul anytime. You still can, right now.”

“Why would I do that?” Seonghwa’s arms tightened around Hongjoong. “You’re kind of special to me.”

“Kind of,” repeated Hongjoong with a chuckle. “I mean it. When did you decide eating my soul wasn’t worth it?”

“That morning I walked into your shop and you gave me a dahlia,” said Seonghwa.

Hongjoong frowned, trying to remember when that had been. “Was this before or after those high schoolers came looking for you?”

“That was the first time I stepped here in daylight.”

“Wait,” said Hongjoong, shifting in Seonghwa’s arms to get a better look at his face. “You mean the morning after you scared the hell out of me and tried to eat my soul?”

Seonghwa nodded, chin digging into Hongjoong’s shoulder, and looked up at him with eyes too innocent and charming to belong to a demon. 

Hongjoong went back to his bouquet, though he wasn’t really into it anymore. “Why?” he asked, rubbing a thumb over the edge of a peony. 

For some time Seonghwa was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “Do you know what your soul would taste of?” he said. “Everyone’s is shaped by their personality, who they are. Yours would taste red.”

“That makes no sense,” said Hongjoong. “Red isn’t a taste.”

“I can’t explain it,” said Seonghwa. “I can only tell you what I feel. Your soul is red.”

Hongjoong hummed and nodded, letting Seonghwa speak.

“I wondered why, at first,” continued Seonghwa. “It was so… vibrant. Fierce, almost. And then when I came to try and take it, instead of cowering in fear or running away, you tried to stab me.”

“I won’t apologize for that,” said Hongjoong with a little grin.

“You shouldn’t,” said Seonghwa. “Anyway, that was when I understood why your soul was so strong. The next morning I came to observe you, maybe bluff a little that I was dead set on you, see if you’d panic. And you were angry. You were mad at me for coming into your shop of all things, and you were so steady and firm throughout it. You sold me a damn flower.”

“You did pay for it,” said Hongjoong. “I’m a business owner before anything else.”

Seonghwa laughed. “This is exactly what I mean,” he said. “When you glared at me when I said I wanted you, instead of asking your friend how you could get rid of me for good, I knew.”

“Knew what?” Hongjoong snorted as he straightened the stems of the flowers in his hands. “How much of an idiot I was?”

“That your soul was too precious to be taken.”

Hongjoong’s hands fell still.

“After that, I was powerless,” said Seonghwa. “I couldn’t stop coming to see you. I worried about your safety, your business. I bought dozens of flowers I ended up giving away. I didn’t know what else to do except think about you.” 

Silence settled over the two of them for a moment, while the rain continued to beat against the glass.

“So, yes,” said Seonghwa softly. “You’re kind of special to me.” 

Hongjoong turned around and kissed Seonghwa, wrapping his arms around him, flowers still in one hand. “And you’re special to me,” he said. He looked up into Seonghwa’s dark eyes and smiled. “I’m so glad you didn’t eat me.”

Seonghwa laughed. “Me too,” he said. “But, hey, I was right, wasn’t I?”

“About what?” asked Hongjoong.

“I told you you’d be mine,” said Seonghwa, smile like a rose with all petals on display.

“Yeah,” said Hongjoong, warmth blooming in his chest. “I’m yours.”

He leaned forward to kiss the demon again.