Work Text:
The bell overhead jingled as Xiaojun stepped into the shop. Fresh cut stems and wet basins left the room smelling like the nearby park after a light rain.
“Hey Kun,” he called out, eyes searching the room for the man who was responsible for opening the store every morning.
The man emerged from the back room, glasses pushed up high on his nose, arm sweeping around in a grand gesture as he faced Xiaojun with the flowers hidden in his grip. “Juliet rose. It’s to die for isn't it?” He held out the long stem, thickly packed petals practically tickling Xiaojun’s nose.
“Yeah. Looks nice.”
Kun scoffed at his lack of enthusiasm, moving to hide away in the back room again. “I just heard an online order come through,” he called out, muffled by the walls separating them. “Take care of that first.”
Like routine, Xiaojun stored his lunchbox and car keys in his cubby behind the counter before cinching a white apron around his waist. He opened up the software where they received online orders and moved closer to the screen. Through squinted eyes against the harsh blue light he read, “six pink camellias, delivered to 127 SM street”.
The mouse made a soft clicking noise as he scrolled down past the payment information to the special instructions and notes. “Deliver to Taeyong on the 5th floor.” An office building. Nothing exciting about that.
He paused, reading over the note that would accompany the bouquet. “I’ve got my eye on you,” he read quietly to himself. Huh. No name for the sender. A secret admirer?
This person must be serious, he thought as he rounded the corner to begin picking flowers. Camellias are the flower for passion and longing to be with someone. Whoever this mystery person is must know what message they’re sending with the flowers alone.
With the flowers prepared, he began wrapping crisp brown paper around them. The material hugged them delicately like a baby swaddled in a blanket.
Xiaojun enjoyed his job. Every day was different and no two pieces were ever the same. How could he complain when he spent his days surrounded by beautiful things?
As he cinched the ribbon delicately to keep everything in place, heavy stomping pounded closer—a stark contrast. With the bouquet finished, he turned just in time to see Kun exiting the back room tugging black buckets overflowing with flowers.
“Where’s that going?” He grunted as he dragged the buckets past the vase display.
Xiaojun, being a good employee, hurried over to help the clearly struggling man. “SM street. Some office building.”
“Oh perfect—“ Kun nearly toppled over from the force of his pulling. Righting himself again, he continued, “these are going to a reception in that direction. I’ll drop it off on the way.”
“Lucas isn’t here today?” Xiaojun pushed the buckets, face turning red from exertion.
Kun stood upright, breathing heavily as they reached the front door. “No, day off. Something about a marathon...or was it a movie marathon. I don’t know.” He waved his hand flippantly.
After strenuously loading up the van—sans the help of the man who weight-lifts for fun—Xiaojun returned to the shop to put away his tools and straighten up the things that had been casualties in the wake of Kun’s buckets. As he swept up stray stem bits and leaves, he hoped that over there at the 127 building, Taeyong felt the same way as the sender.
Baby’s breath so small and delicate looked like snow sprinkled greenery, reminiscent of the winter that had just passed—and made driving to work a nightmare–Xiaojun thought as he carefully tucked the new stems into their container.
A familiar ding resounded through the room, causing him to pause and make his way to the glowing computer. Adjusting the glasses on his face, he read through the online order lighting up the bright screen. “Six white chrysanthemums, delivered to 127 SM street.” The location sounded familiar.
He continued scrolling down the form. “Deliver to Taeyong on the 5th floor.” Ah, he remembered the name.
Finally, he landed on the note that would accompany the bouquet. “You’re mine,” the words rolled off his tongue. Another cheesy romantic sentiment.
Xiaojun thought about this as he trimmed the stems, laying the crisp white chrysanthemums on the brown paper. He was happy for Taeyong and whoever this mystery sender was. It seems like things had worked out for them after all.
“Hey.” He nudged the man sitting on the counter with his scuffed up sneaker.
With wide eyes, the man popped up, looking alert. “Huh—what? I wasn’t asleep, I was thinking.”
If Lucas wasn’t Kun‘s cousin he’d definitely be fired by now. “Yeah, yeah. Think about how you’re gonna deliver these.”
Lucas took the bouquet, the small flower heads looking tiny in his large hands, and raced to the door. “You got it!”
Xiaojun stood at the counter, rereading the sentence on the screen, tossing it around in his mouth like a hard candy. “I’m going to eat you alive.”
He was raised to respect others. Everyone has their own preferences and ways of going about life. Who was he to judge?
But stranger even was the flower the sender had chosen this time. Red oleander—after a quick google search— Xiaojun found that it meant desire, destiny, charm, but also, caution.
He placed the flowers in their vase, pondering what this could possibly mean. It was finished off with the little tag he was required to attach for this specific flower, reading Caution: poisonous.
“Do you remember delivering flowers to the 127 office building?”
Lucas held up a finger as he swallowed down a large bite of sandwich. “Yeah, why?”
Xiaojun absentmindedly swirled the noodles in his styrofoam container. “Did the guy you deliver them to ever say anything? Taeyong I think was his name.”
“Oh I never met him. I just leave them with the receptionist.” Xiaojun stared at the piece of lettuce dangling from the corner of Lucas’ mouth.
“Well does the receptionist ever say anything?”
“Actually,” Lucas began, eyebrows furrowing as he looked up at the white ceiling in thought. Suddenly his expression changed. “Oh oh! The last delivery he said,” he lifted up his hands for air quotes, “‘it’s always nice seeing you here.’”
Xiaojun scoffed, tossing his wadded up napkin at the boy’s annoyingly handsome face. “Not what I meant.”
“Kun, I’m getting kind of worried.” He held the card containing the message of this morning’s order. Today, the paper felt rough and unpleasant against the pads of his fingers. The four words printed in heavy black ink were camouflaged by swirling calligraphy. “Has this ever happened before?”
The florist had his head buried in a bucket of red poppies. “Of course. Don’t worry it’s nothing unusual.” He paused to inhale deeply, round glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “We’ve had weirder. Back before you worked here there was this man who sent flowers to his cat.” Kun crossed the room, spinning Xiaojun around and gently pushing him back out to the main floor. “You wouldn’t believe the messages on those cards. Yikes.”
Xiaojun muttered his understanding as he moved to get the flowers for this order. He wrapped the paper around the six purple lisianthus stems as he thought about their meaning of an everlasting bond. Last, he attached the small card with big swirling letters reading, “you can’t escape me.”
The poor florist was consumed by his worries. Was he aiding in the endangerment of some innocent guy named Taeyong? Was there some sicko out there using Xiaojun as his vessel to get messages to him?
But no, Taeyong hadn’t come into the shop to ask about the messages. So it couldn’t be bad, right—
“Hey.”
Xiaojun was physically shoved out of his thoughts. He rubbed his shoulder where Lucas had just slapped his large palm. “Ow.”
“The computer dinged.”
Pushing himself up off his stool, he groaned. “You know, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you filled an order every once in a while.”
Lucas shook his head, dark brown chunks of hair flailing around clumsily. “I can’t tell the difference between a peony and a pansy. This is all you.”
Xiaojun rolled his eyes as he scrolled down the order form. The blurring computer screen finally landed on the text box at the bottom.
“Dude you look like you saw a ghost.”
“Kun!” He took off to the back room, heart pounding in his chest. “Kun!”
The older man set down his scissors as Xiaojun came barreling up to him. Xiaojun wasn’t surprised that the man would move away any potentially dangerous objects. He was aware of how crazy he looked; dark undereye bags were his new accessory from an abundance of sleepless nights.
“Kun, you have to see this!” He grabbed the confused man by the wrist, dragging him through the doorway where Lucas was still standing, looking equally confused.
The three men arrived at the computer where Xiaojun held out a shaking finger. “Read that.” Kun and Lucas leaned in closer, squinting against the white background of the order form.
“Oh.”
“Well—”
“I told you! Something’s not right with this!” Xiaojun reminded them of the near dozen equally strange—some bordering sinister—messages they’ve gotten to deliver with flowers to Taeyong at the 127 building.
Kun started speaking, but stopped, furrowing his brows. Pouting his lips, he tried again. “Maybe they’re just into weird things.”
“That,” Xiaojun gestured at the screen, “is not something people are into!”
“You don’t know that.” Kun crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at the panicked boy. “And it’s rude of you to assume.”
Xiaojun dug his fingers into his unkempt hair, tugging lightly at the dyed strands.
“Just don’t stress out about it. I’m sure they’re not serious.” He rolled his eyes as he made his escape back through the doorway.
“They sound fun to me,” Lucas said, a grin stretching his mouth.
Xiaojun huffed, unaware of what to do with the nonchalant people he was dealing with. “Fine! But when the police come in here to inform us that we’ve been accomplices to a crime, it’s on you,” Xiaojun called through the doorway.
He grumbled to himself as he pulled out stems of petunias. The gradient spreading from their centers was soft and pretty, a striking difference from their meaning of anger and resentment.
The brown paper crinkled as he wrapped it around the flowers and filler. Something didn’t feel right. There was this tugging on his moral compass that told him to throw away the note. To deliver the flowers and pretend like there was never a message accompanying them. But if this was a warning, maybe Taeyong needed to know. Maybe it could help him avoid whatever this sender had in store.
Against his better judgement, he attached the card with large, clear font reading, “I’m going to kill you!”
❀❀❀
The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the living room of the apartment. Taeyong had intended on watching that new Netflix show everyone was talking about, but the warmth of the room and long day at work had him dozing off before he could even catch onto what the plot was.
He was in and out of sleep but could just barely make out the soft click of a door.
Then, the brush of a soft fingertip on his cheek, so light he may have imagined it.
“Boo.”
His eyelids fluttered open to a figure standing in front of him. A gasp slipped through his lips. “Doie, you’re home.”
The man kneeled down, knees cushioned on the fuzzy carpet, before pressing a gentle kiss to Taeyong’s warm forehead. “You sleepy?”
Taeyong shook his head, rubbing his fingertips into his eyes. “Not anymore.” Finally he could take a good look at the man kneeling before him, sunlight sending a glow onto half of his face. Taeyong couldn’t help the corners of his lips curling up as he noticed the change. “Those look good!”
A shy smile took over Doyoung’s face as he tilted his head down, suddenly interested in that dark smudge on the carpet next to his knee. Fingertips underneath his chin forced him to once again meet the older man’s gaze. “The optometrist tried to talk me into a second pair, but I think I’ll be fine with just these.”
Taeyong ran a finger over the cool metal of Doyoung’s new glasses. “Now, you’ve got your four eyes on me,” he hummed affectionately.
Doyoung’s gaze flitted over to the camellias sitting on the dining table. “Very funny.”
Taeyong twirled a pen in his fingers as he listened to the thrumming beat of the phone ringing in his ear.
“Hi baby, what’s—”
“That was the best you could come up with?”
The line was silent before Doyoung spoke up softly. “I thought it was good.”
“When I told you to talk dirty to me, this,” he gestured at the card on his desk, fully aware that Doyoung couldn’t see, “was not what I meant.” Taeyong sighed, deciding to have mercy on this sweet, innocent man that he loved. “Still, I guess I can tell that your heart was in the right place.”
“I tried,” Doyoung exhaled, sounding awfully like that time he attempted flaming creme brulee and ended up with a ramekin full of black goo.
“The flowers are really pretty though,” Taeyong said, admiring the five perfect petals that made up each vibrant red flower. “Granted, they’re poisonous.”
“They are?”
Taeyong froze, his hand pressed over his mouth and nose to muffle the small puffs of air coming out. His eyes were open but it made no difference; the closet was dark except for the small patch of light peeking in from the bottom of the door.
He stiffened as the sound of footsteps on the bedroom’s carpeted floor began. The volume fluctuated as the feet moved around the room, closer to and farther away from the closet.
If he closed his eyes, he could identify the noises being made. The swish of the window curtains. The rustling of the duvet. The scrunch of the laundry hamper. Then silence.
Taeyong jumped back, startled, as the closet doors flung open.
“Ha!” Doyoung shouted, holding up his phone. “Less than five minutes! That’s a new record.”
“Yeah, because you like to cheat,” Taeyong said, stretching as he stepped out of the closet.
Doyoung gasped, a hand flying up to cover his mouth. “When have I ever cheated?”
“Yesterday you climbed in the dryer! Didn’t anyone ever tell you that’s dangerous?” Taeyong flailed his arms around, still confused by how the gangly man was even able to fit in there.
“Well two days ago you hid in that creepy crawl space when you know I’m scared to go in there!” Doyoung gaped.
“Just you wait,” Taeyong said, crowding into Doyoung’s space. The taller man continued stepping backwards until their chests were pressed and the backs of his knees almost knocked the purple flower bouquet off the nightstand. “Tomorrow,” he whispered against the shell of Doyoung’s ear, “I’m going to find you so fast your head will spin.”
The air inside the apartment smelled like rosemary and roasted tomatoes as soon as Taeyong stepped over the threshold. He toed off his shoes in the entryway, careful not to scuff them. His feet, now able to press flat on the floor, gave a relieving stretch that had him shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.
His socks muffled his steps as he creeped into the kitchen, catching sight of the dark-haired man standing at the stove, wooden spoon in hand, and floral apron cinched around his waist.
Doyoung remained still even as Taeyong snaked his arms around his center, affectionately rubbing his face on the soft sweater the younger was wearing.
“Did you delete it?” He could hear the man speak through gritted teeth.
Taeyong giggled against the fuzzy material. “Yes I did, you baby.”
Doyoung huffed, spinning in Taeyong’s arms to face him. “I am not a baby. You just shouldn’t have done that,” he said, looking down at Taeyong with a pout.
“Shouldn’t have done what? Shown appreciation for my boyfriend on social media?” Taeyong removed his arms to place a hand on his chest, feigning offense.
“There were no better pictures?” Doyoung asked, flailing his arms at his sides.
Taeyong frowned, eyebrows pulling together. “But I love that picture.”
“Yeah right,” Doyoung squinted his eyes the way he does when he’s seeing right through Taeyong’s act. “When I post a picture of you when you were 13 with braces and a prepubescent mustache, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”
Taeyong mirrored his gaze, puffing up his chest in defense. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.” Doyoung leaned his head down to be level with the shorter man. “As a matter of fact, let me text your mom right now.”
“Don’t you dare—“ Taeyong was cut off by a wet smack on the forehead to which his mouth curled up in disgust.
Doyoung turned to his concoction, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Come on, let’s eat.”
Taeyong was already halfway through his bowl of pasta when he remembered something. “Hey,” he said, kicking his foot against Doyoung’s under the table. The vase with gradient flowers wobbled next to their plates. “You wouldn’t believe what happened at work today.”
“Hmm?” Doyoung mumbled around the strands of spaghetti sticking out of his mouth.
“I got this call at work. A guy from the flower shop you order from was like, frantic.” He picked up his napkin to wipe at the tomato sauce on the other man’s chin. “He said he couldn’t stop thinking about it all day.”
Doyoung quirked his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean?”
“A guy named Xiaojun I think? He said he thought I was in danger.”
Doyoung’s eyes widened like saucers as a concerned look took over his face. “Oh my gosh, why? What’s going on? Are you ok?”
Taeyong rolled his eyes, yet was still endeared by the man sitting next to him. “He said the messages from the flowers I was receiving sounded threatening. He thinks the person sending me flowers is going to try and hurt me.”
“Ohh.”