Work Text:
Young lord Choi Beomgyu of the Choi household storms out of his house in a hurry and in fear of getting caught and being forced to meet up with one of those girls that his mother might want to set him up with again(a shiver runs up his spine, how could she? Beomgyu can’t imagine being married to a woman ), only to find himself fascinated with the red-haired boy sitting by the window, and buys him a bouquet of flowers. Except, he can’t be gay.
Wait, who said something about being gay?
“Sir, here is your tea.” the waiter says politely, offering Beomgyu the cup of tea with a bow.
“Thank you.” Beomgyu says graciously. “You don’t have to do that, by the way.”
“Do what, good sir?” The waiter questions, inclining his head in confusion.
“Bow. Do that thing. Treat me like I’m so important.” Beomgyu says in annoyance. “I’m not that great.”
“You are the son of Lord Choi—“
“My father is a large.. annoyance.” Beomgyu returns haughtily, upset, as he slips three sugar cubes into his tea. “And he tries to make me someone I’m not.”
The waiters audibly gasp nearby, and Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “B-but sir-! You cannot say that; why, your father is the most—“
“Gracious, best, most kindest,” Beomgyu continues in a monotonous voice, “and greatest man there is? He hardly is half of that to his own kind.”
The waiter purses his lips, surprised at this outburst. Beomgyu is hardly like this, usually well-behaved and polite. The staff there were usually treated kindly by the gentle young man, and so they all know that something of great disturbance must have highly annoyed him.
“Would you like to see our new azaleas collected from the mountain nearby?” One of the waitresses tries instead. “They’re freshly picked, and smell fragrant and taste as sweet as honey. The cafe allows the people to buy these flowers, too, if they’d like,”
Beomgyu takes a sip of his tea, shrugging. “I suppose, that does sound quite pleasant.”
The waitress curtseys and takes her leave, and so do the waiters that entered with her. Beomgyu then lets out a sigh, and lets his eyes wander upon the surroundings around him listlessly.
What if I don’t want to be with a woman?
What if I don’t like them as a romantic partner?
Beomgyu’s thoughts are halted immediately as his eyes rest on a red-haired boy sitting by the window, looking to be about his age, focused on a notebook propped up on the table in front of him. Beomgyu’s stomach does somersaults and his heart beats irregularly a few times, and Beomgyu is very sure this was not, thankfully, a medical condition, as his years at medical training have taught him so far, but this was definitely not normal.
Oh no.
The other young man was almost Beomgyu’s age, he guesses, and he looks so ethereal, and Beomgyu wonders how he’s even real.
His red hair is parted in the middle, a little messy. The anxious, impatient tousling of his hair every now and then suggests that this was the reason so; his suit settles nicely on his small body frame, and hugs his middle just the right amount. The dark green, brown, and yellow plaid patterned coat rests lightly upon a plain white shirt inside. A plain green satin scarf is tied around the young man’s neck snugly, and it compliments his features, if Beomgyu may say so himself.
The gentleman’s large doe eyes mesmerise Beomgyu, and his nose slopes down pleasantly and his unbelievably pink and soft looking lips curl up in the most gentlest way possible. Beomgyu wonders how it feels to have them against his own.
Hold on now, Beomgyu blinks himself out of his stupour. What was that bit about—
“Aren’t these azaleas just the most beautiful?” The waitress’s voice says to the right of Beomgyu, but Beomgyu can’t tear his eyes away from the boy by the window.
“Yes. Beautiful.” Beomgyu says dreamily, before mentally slapping himself. “U-uh, who’s that there?”
“Ah, the young man by the window?” The waiter to Beomgyu’s left asks, and Beomgyu nods vigorously. “That’s Kang Taehyun, the son of Mr Kang of the other lordly households.”
“Oh. Oh, so he’s my equal, in other words?” Beomgyu asks excitedly, forgetting to speak a little more formally.
“I suppose so, yes, Mr. Choi.” the waitresses says kindly, though confused.
The red haired man sits near the window, stirring his cup of coffee thoughtfully, seemingly upset about something. The young gentleman ruffles his carefully styled hair in anger, sighing in frustration as he bites his lower lip. He taps his pencil against the handsome leather-bound notebook on the table, and Beomgyu finds himself staring at the boy yet again.
“I’ll buy the flowers,” Beomgyu blurts out suddenly looking at the waitress, and she raises her eyebrows in surprise as the waiter to the left takes the shillings from Beomgyu with a slight bow, heading to the back of the store.
“Suddenly? Are they for your mother?”
“No. They’re not.” Beomgyu blushes furiously, looking down at his china cup. “These flowers are for that gentleman.”
“Would you like to give them to him yourself?” The lady smiles, chuckling, handing the flowers to Beomgyu.
“Oh. Oh. Oh. ” Beomgyu gulps nervously, brushing himself off as he rises from his chair, shakily walking over to the boy by the window.
A few seconds ago, Beomgyu bought the bouquet impulsively and thought the idea as fun and exciting, yet now this fantasy seemed far too real for the poor boy, and he was a little worried.
Little, perhaps, was an understatement.
“Hello.” Beomgyu’s voice comes out deeper than he intended, and he curses himself silently. What the hell was that?
“Hello,” the other returns gently, and Beomgyu blushes a little. Oh no. He even sounds ethereal. “What could bring you over to my table today, Mr. Choi? Do have a seat,” he says kindly.
“Oh. Thank you.”
There’s a little tense silence.
“What brings you here, Mr. Choi?” Taehyun asks kindly, and Beomgyu clears his throat, confused.
Wait, I didn’t think this through. What am I supposed to do? Should i just way these flowers are for him or—
“Uh, I like your hair,” Beomgyu says suddenly, and he wishes to kick himself.
Taehyun, thankfully, laughs Beomgyu’s awkwardness off pleasantly. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
“Oh, hardly.” Beomgyu puffs out his cheeks a little, tapping his knees beneath the table nervously. “You’re Kang Taehyun, right? If I may, how do you know of me?”
Taehyun smiles, and Beomgyu’s eyes widen a little, and he feels his ears grow warm. His little cat teeth. Oh no.
“Yes, you are speaking to Kang Taehyun, the only son of Lord Kang.” Taehyun chuckles good-naturedly in a joke, making a little bow. “And as for how I have happened to know of you, I should think the whole town knows of son of Lord Choi,, the other one, that is. If you exclude Sir Yeonjun. Then there is…” Taehyun taps his pencil on his adam’s apple thoughtfully. “..ah! Kai Kamal Huening, right? I don’t think he was of around this province, however he is quite the talk of the town along with you.”
“What do they say about me?” Beomgyu asks curiously, his shoulders slumping back slightly as he relaxes in the presence of the other boy.
“Oh, they talk about your little nasty temper when your mother introduces you to another lady,” Taehyun snorts, covering his mouth immediately. “Sorry.”
Beomgyu goes beet red, chuckling nervously. “Do they now?’
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Taehyun winks, and it sends tingles up Beomgyu’s spine in excitement and surprise. “If anyone asks, they talk about your astounding medical knowledge.”
There’s another silence this time, though more comfortable.
“If I may, what could you be holding beneath the table?” Beomgyu is hardly looking at the other, but he could almost hear the smirk in Taehyun’s voice.
“Oh. Just. Some. Flowers.” Beomgyu stutters, his sweaty hands struggling to clutch the bouquet still.
“Do you like them? May I see them?” Taehyun asks, sounding genuinely pitiful to Beomgyu, and Beomgyu heaves a sigh of relief.
“Yes, I do like azaleas quite a bit. And you may,” Beomgyu returns, handing the flowers over the table to the other gentleman.
“Oh, they smell lovely,” Taehyun smiles happily. “Azaleas represent everlasting love and gentleness, and most of all, kindness and grace.”
“Oh, really? I had no idea.” Beomgyu says quite truthfully barely able to make eye contact with the boy across the table from him.
“Yes. And for that exact reason, they remind me of you.” Taehyun says softly, and Beomgyu’s eyes widen.
“Come again?”
Taehyun shrugs, chuckling. “You heard me. Would you like to walk back to our houses together? I believe we live near one another. After I finish this cup of coffee, that is.”
“oh. Yes, I’d like that very much,” Beomgyu beams.
“Oh, and,” Taehyun says, as he keeps his journal, “I’m keeping these flowers as a gift from you.”
“Please do.”