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Guilt gnawed incessantly at Taehyung's insides as he stared despairingly at the crushed remains of flowers scattered along the cobblestone path—the disastrous aftermath of his utter clumsiness, again. For what seemed like the hundredth time this month. As if on repeat, Taehyung could still hear Jeongguk's startled shout upon witnessing the havoc Taehyung had unintentionally wreaked, could still see in his mind's eye the way Jeongguk had come barreling out of his little flower shop, and he clenched trembling fingers into his hair with a soft, distressed noise escaping his throat. His heart plummeted like a stone to the pit of his stomach, mind whirling with self-reproach.
Because of course Taehyung just had to go and make an utter fool of himself in front of the breathtakingly unfair Jeongguk yet again, didn't he? As if tripping over thin air and stumbling into Jeongguk's front display of carefully-arranged floral arrangements last week in a flurry of flailing limbs and petals hadn't been humiliation enough, oh no. Today, Taehyung had to go that extra mile and actually tip his delivery bike right over when he rounded the corner onto Jeongguk's street, the entire contents of his wicker basket attached to the handlebars—a meticulously-prepared order of one hundred and twenty red and pink carnations for a wedding—tumbling down the road with him.
He hadn't even been going that fast, was the absurd thing. If anything, he'd been overly cautious, his hands locked in a white-knuckled grip on the handlebars and his heart rabbiting rhythmically against his ribs in anticipation of seeing Jeongguk again as he made his way to the shop. But he supposed that was rather the problem in the end, wasn't it? He got so ridiculously, pathetically lost in the mere idea of being within Jeongguk's presence again that he couldn't be bothered to focus on insignificant details. Like steering. Or watching where he was going.
And that was precisely how he ended up sprawled on the ground surrounded by ruined flowers as Jeongguk came barreling out of his shop at the sound of the commotion, looking unfairly attractive even with his dark hair sleep-mussed and his eyes gone wide with startled concern.
It was mortifying. Utterly humiliating. The heat that flooded Taehyung's face as he sheepishly righted his bike and gathered the salvageable carnations in shaking hands had little to do with the mild scrape on his elbow or the developing bruise on his hip, and everything to do with the concern etching delicate lines into Jeongguk's unfairly striking features as he crouched to help clean up the mess Taehyung had made. Again.
"Are you alright?" The question was quiet, gentle, heartrendingly sincere, and Taehyung felt his blush deepen even as something warm and aching unfurled under his ribcage. "That looked like a nasty fall. Nothing's broken, is it?"
"Just my dignity," Taehyung muttered without thinking, startling when Jeongguk laughed, the sound low and rich and unfairly attractive on top of everything else about him. He bit down hard on his lower lip, feeling very much as if he might combust on the spot from the force of his embarrassment. "I mean, I'm fine," he amended hastily, unable to quite meet Jeongguk's eyes. "Really. I'm always... um. Falling off my bike."
There. Eloquent as always.
Taehyung resisted the urge to bang his head resolutely against the nearest wall, despite how well-deserved such an action felt. Here he was, making a perfectly marvelous fool of himself in front of the man he'd been nursing a crush on for what felt like ages now, and all he could say was that he was always falling off his bike. As if Jeongguk couldn't see that for himself at this point, given Taehyung's apparently spectacular gift for showing up to deliver orders looking like he'd gone a few rounds with a bush or a mailbox or, heaven forbid, one of the tasteful stone fences bracketing the neighborhood properties.
If Taehyung had possessed even an ounce of chill or grace or basic coordination, he was quite sure he wouldn't find himself in these absurd situations with such alarming frequency. But then, if he'd possessed any of those attributes, he likely wouldn't have developed feelings for Jeongguk in the first place. Men like Jeongguk—self-possessed and kind and effortlessly striking—weren't meant to look twice at men like Taehyung, who couldn't even complete a simple delivery without winding up flat on their back.
Taehyung shook himself out of his self-deprecating train of thought as Jeongguk straightened, their hands brushing as Jeongguk retrieved the last of the salvaged carnations from Taehyung's slack grip. The contact sent a spark of sensation skittering up Taehyung's arm, and he flushed, glancing away as he clambered sheepishly to his feet.
"Sorry about the flowers," he mumbled, mourning the crushed velvet petals littering the path. The order had been a sizable one, and the shop would have to work overtime to replace them all in time for the wedding. Which, naturally, was entirely Taehyung's fault. "I'll pay for replacements, of course. And for the ones we couldn't save." The offer was the least he could do, even if it wouldn't come close to sufficiently conveying his regret over the situation. His delivery service's mistake, his responsibility. Even if the mistake was an increasingly recurrent one.
"It's alright," Jeongguk was smiling when Taehyung risked a glance at him from under the fringe of his bangs, the expression soft and understanding in a way that made Taehyung's chest ache. His voice matched when he continued, "Accidents happen. As long as you're unhurt, that's what matters." The words sent warmth curling through Taehyung's chest, sweet and painful all at once, though he couldn't fathom why Jeongguk was being so kind about the whole affair. As if Taehyung crashing into shop's displays or ruining orders was just an ordinary, everyday occurrence. As if Taehyung wasn't entirely hopeless. "Do you need help cleaning up?"
"No, it's fine. I've got it." Taehyung bent hurriedly to gather the ruined carnations before Jeongguk could insist, embarrassment burning the tips of his ears. The last thing he needed was more time to make an even greater fool of himself in front of Jeongguk than he already had. Though even that realization didn't stop him from glancing up to meet Jeongguk's gaze as he straightened again, keeping his hands busy brushing dirt and petals from his cargo shorts to avoid fidgeting under the attention. "Sorry again for the trouble."
"No trouble." Jeongguk paused, and the slight lilt at the end of the words turned them into a question.
Like there was something more he wanted to say. Taehyung found himself holding his breath, waiting, foolish hope stirring in his chest, but then Jeongguk just sighed and gifted him with another small smile. "Have a good day, Taehyung."
The use of his name sent warmth flooding Taehyung's face anew, and he barely remembered to gasp out a "You too, Jeongguk" before mounting his bike in a flustered rush and pedaling off down the street, cobblestones blurring under his wheels with the force of his pace. As if putting distance between himself and the flower shop—between himself and his latest embarrassment—would do anything to erase the memory of Jeongguk's kindness, or the way Taehyung's traitorous heart had jumped at the sound of his name on Jeongguk's tongue, soft and familiar in a way Taehyung knew he didn't deserve.
Not that that would stop him from coming up with increasingly ridiculous excuses to drop by Decalcomania Flowers, of course. Or from continuing to make an utter fool of himself in front of one Jeon Jeongguk at every available opportunity. But that, Taehyung supposed with a gusty sigh as he rounded the next corner, was just part and parcel of the torture that was this blasted crush. And he only had himself to blame.
ʬʬ
The days passed in a blur of routine—deliveries and hours spent helping around his family's shop and slinking off to bed each evening with the ghost of Jeongguk's smile haunting his thoughts. It wasn't until the next week that Taehyung's route took him past Decalcomania Flowers again, a coincidence he suspected had far more to do with his own inability to stay away than any real stroke of happenstance.
His suspicions were proven correct when he rounded the corner onto Jeongguk's street only to spot the man himself standing outside the shop, head tipped back and eyes closed as he took a drag from the cigarette between his fingers. He looked tired, the delicately smudged skin under his eyes and the slump of his shoulders at odds with his usually impeccable posture, but the realization only made Taehyung's pulse jump with the urge to wrap him up in his arms. To smooth the lines of strain from his brow and kiss him breathless until he smiled again.
The thought had Taehyung blinking rapidly, mouth gone dry, and in his distraction, he failed to notice the rather sizable rock directly in his path until it was too late. His front tire bumped right over it, handlebars jerking out of his grip, and then he was tipping off the side of his bike with a startled shout and crashing straight into Jeongguk.
They both went down in a tangle of limbs, Taehyung's bike clattering to the ground beside them, and for a long moment, Taehyung could only lie winded on the cobblestones, eyes squeezed shut in mortification. He didn't dare look at Jeongguk, didn't think he'd be able to bear whatever expression he might find on the other's face—irritation or anger or, worst of all, disappointment. So it was to his immense surprise when a soft huff of laughter ruffled his hair, and gentle hands were helping him up into a sitting position.
"Are you alright?" Jeongguk asked, voice warm with amusement and concern, and Taehyung cracked his eyes open in shock to find him smiling that soft smile again, a blossom of color high on his cheekbones. "I'm sorry, I should have moved out of the way quicker. I didn't realize you were so... distracted."
Distracted.
By Jeongguk's impossible beauty, the taste of his name on Taehyung's tongue, the ache to touch him. If only he knew.
"Sorry," Taehyung mumbled instead, wincing as he shifted onto his knees to gather his scattered deliveries. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
"Clearly," Jeongguk chuckled, then winced, gingerly probing at the side of his ribcage. Taehyung's stomach swooped with guilt.
"Are you hurt?" he blurted, dropping the flowers to hover uncertainly at Jeongguk's side. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to—You should have told me if I—Oh god, I've probably broken your ribs, you should see a doctor, I'll call an ambulance, I—"
"Taehyung," Jeongguk cut him off with another soft laugh, catching his wrists when Taehyung made to dig his phone from his pocket. "I'm fine. Just a bit sore, nothing broken." He smiled again, gently squeezing Taehyung's hands in reassurance, and Taehyung felt his face flood crimson at their closeness. At the warmth and strength of Jeongguk's grip, the calluses rough on his skin. "Accidents happen. And I should know better than to stand in the street by this point." His lips quirked, eyes glinting with amusement, and Taehyung ducked his head with a weak laugh.
"I guess I should start yelling ‘incoming' whenever I'm heading down the street, huh," he joked weakly, pulse fluttering as Jeongguk's hands lingered on his.
"Might not be a bad idea." Jeongguk gave his hands another squeeze before releasing them, smile fading into something softer, almost wistful. "Try to be more careful, Taehyung.”
The words resonated through Taehyung's chest, and he bit down on the confession that wanted to spill from his tongue. How was he to be careful when Jeongguk gazed at him like that? When Jeongguk's hands on his and Jeongguk's smile left him weak and wanting and distracted beyond all reason?
Some things, Taehyung suspected, were simply beyond his control. However unfortunate that may be.
"I really am sorry," Taehyung said for what felt like the hundredth time, ducking his head to hide the heat in his cheeks as he climbed to his feet and righted his bike. "About crashing into you, I mean. And the flowers. Again." He huffed out a weak laugh, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I'm kind of a mess, honestly."
"I've noticed," Jeongguk said wryly, though his smile took any potential sting from the words. He pushed himself up as well, brushing dirt from the back of his jeans, and Taehyung's gaze caught unwillingly on the play of muscle under his shirt. He flushed deeper, looking away. "But that's alright. Not everyone can be perfect."
"Yeah, definitely not me," Taehyung said with a sigh, then paused. His heart leapt into a frantic pace against his ribs as the thought occurred, uncertainty and longing warring for dominance inside him. But then, he really had nothing left to lose at this point, did he? "Um. I was wondering if maybe... I mean, to make up for all the trouble I've caused you..." He trailed off, risking a glance at Jeongguk from under the fringe of his bangs, and hastily amended, "You don't have to say yes, obviously, I just thought... Maybe if you wanted to... Get coffee sometime?"
Jeongguk blinked, looking as thrown by the question as Taehyung had expected he might be. But then that soft, kind smile was curving his mouth again, creasing his eyes at the corners, and Taehyung's breath caught. "I'd like that," Jeongguk said, voice warm.
Taehyung stared. Pinched himself—discreetly, he hoped—just to be sure he wasn't dreaming. But no, the slight twinge of pain assured him he was very much awake, and Jeongguk really had just agreed to get coffee with him.
"You would?" he blurted before he could think better of it, wincing at how shrill he sounded. He ducked his head, rubbing self-consciously at the back of his neck. "Sorry, I just... Wasn't expecting you to say yes."
"Why not?"
The question was gentle, and when Taehyung glanced at Jeongguk from the corner of his eye, he found nothing but open curiosity in his expression. As if he genuinely couldn't fathom why Taehyung might expect him to refuse. As if the idea of turning Taehyung down might never have crossed his mind.
Taehyung fidgeted, at a loss. How did he even begin to explain the glaring differences between them, the chasm of why Jeongguk was so far out of his league they might as well have existed in separate universes? "I just didn't think you'd be interested in me like that," he mumbled at last. "Since, well. You're you, and I'm kind of a mess."
"You are," Jeongguk acknowledged, startling a laugh from Taehyung. But then he was stepping closer, smile gentling as he gazed down at Taehyung through the fall of his fringe. "But that's part of your charm."
"My charm," Taehyung echoed weakly. He was quite sure he had none to speak of, at least not where Jeongguk was concerned. But then Jeongguk's hand was curling warm around his wrist, pulse jumping under Taehyung's fingertips where they rested, and Taehyung's breath caught at the banked heat in Jeongguk's eyes.
"Is that coffee offer still open?" Jeongguk asked, tone edged with laughter and something darker that made anticipation curl low in Taehyung's belly. "Because I'd love to take you up on it."
Taehyung could only nod, mute, mind whirling.
And if his hands shook as he climbed onto his bike a few minutes later, if his heart felt fit to beat out of his chest as he meandered down the street with Jeongguk's smile etched behind his eyelids, well.
He supposed that was only to be expected.