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“He punched me, King! Like, full-on fist to face!”
“And? He was probably startled by your ugly mug.”
“Hey!”
King sighed, putting down the flowers he’d been binding to look at his best friend instead. “What do you want me to say, Bohn? He was sleeping, you woke him, he had a split-second reaction, what’s the big deal?”
Huffing, Bohn fiddled with the left-over blades of grass. King slapped his hand.
“Stop behaving like a toddler. If you want him to apologise just find him and tell him. It’s literally not that hard.”
King did not like the way Bohn’s eyes lit up at his words. He’d learnt to expect the worst very early into their friendship, and it got only worse the older they got.
“Bohn,” he said warningly, “whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
Bohn, obviously not listening, grinned.
“I know what I’ll do.” His grin only got wider as he looked at King. “Thanks, King!”
Then he jumped off the chair and strode out of the shop. King sighed again, massaging his temples. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do damage control this time but he wasn’t too confident about it.
Shaking his head, he got back to work, binding a small bouquet to display up front. Lily, his boss, had asked him to do it if he had the time, so King was using the rare moment of quiet in the shop to his advantage.
He was sure he would still continue working in this flower shop after getting his degree in botany, even if that wasn’t what he was really aiming for, simply because they were severely understaffed and he still got to do something with plants. If Lily found more people to work for her, he would quit but the time for that decision was still far in the future.
For some reason, there weren’t a lot of people willing to work part-time in a flower shop despite the pay not being too shabby and the customers being – on average – nicer than anywhere else. King couldn’t understand it. Then again, he was a little bit of a plant nerd, so he was probably a bit biased.
Sure, he had to work a lot of morning shifts that started at six because of his class schedule, but he’d known and chosen this exact flower shop for that reason. Every other shop opened later, so King wouldn’t have been able to work as many hours. Not that he needed the extra money, necessarily, he was on a scholarship and his parents sent him money every month for groceries, but King liked to be on the safe side of things.
So he got up at five in the morning to be at work by six, and set out to put the bouquets and more vibrant flowers outside.
People usually didn’t come by this early save for some stragglers who wanted fresh flowers for anniversaries, birthdays or any other kind of festivities. From time to time, there would be someone who actually knew what they were talking about, but they could never stay long enough for King to make proper conversation with them. Of course, they also had regulars, mostly sweet elderly ladies who didn’t mind King telling them a flower’s life story. There was a businessman – Jet – who bought small bouquets every other day to display them in his office but he was the only outlier.
So imagine King’s surprise when a boy – man? – who couldn’t be any older than King, found his way into the shop just before seven in the morning. He looked frantic for some reason, out of breath and his hair ruffled an ungodly amount.
“I need a rose. Please.” He was wheezing out the words, holding his side.
Taken aback, King asked, “A singular rose?”
The boy – definitely a boy – nodded.
“Colour doesn’t matter,” he said, straightening up a little. “Just one rose please.”
That had to be the weirdest request King had ever gotten. No one ever bought just one flower. Three was the unspoken minimum. But King wasn’t about to question a paying customer, so he picked out the prettiest rose he could and rang him up.
He was about to ask if he should wrap it up but the boy slammed 200 Baht down and, without even waiting for his change, swiped the rose from the counter and ran out. He threw a quick thanks over his shoulder and then he was gone. King was left blinking after him. Strangest interaction ever.
The boy was obviously a college student, now that King thought about it. He’d been wearing a uniform and there’d been a pin on his tie. The symbol of the pin looked familiar for some reason, but King couldn’t place it. He shrugged, putting the whole incident behind him. Maybe he would tell his friends about it later, but for now, there were more important things.
King had forgotten about the strange incident by the time he was free, but the boy returned the next day. He was more relaxed and also earlier than the day before.
“One rose, please,” he said with a smile. King smiled back, unable to help himself.
“Any particular colour today?”
The boy pursed his lips in thought then shook his head. “No, just pick whatever you want.”
So King did as he did yesterday, picking the prettiest flower and ringing him up. This time, the boy stayed around long enough for King to be able to hand him his change. The boy frowned at the 100 Baht bill he’d just handed King.
“Shouldn’t it be fifty?” He glanced at the display. “Yeah, it says 150 right there and I gave 200.”
“You also gave 200 yesterday,” King replied. “So, 100 for change total.”
The boy blinked down at the bill in his hand, then pocketed it and smiled at King. “Thanks. I’ll be on my way then.”
Again, he grabbed the flower without it being wrapped but at least this time he wasn’t running.
As soon as the door closed behind the boy, King realised he forgot to ask about the pin.
King then continued to forget about the pin every time the boy turned up at the shop at around half past six for the next few days. By day five he’d given up on even trying to remember, not that it was that important anyway.
By now, King had learnt the boy’s name was Duen and that he was a first year med student. He still didn’t know why Duen bought one singular rose every morning but he didn’t ask and Duen didn’t offer.
They got along well either way, so King didn’t care.
What King did care about was his friends coming to the shop and bothering him at work. Which was why, when Bohn wandered into the shop a few minutes before closing on a Friday, King could practically smell trouble in the air.
“I’m a genius,” Bohn said smugly, coming up to King.
King didn’t even look up from where he was sweeping down the counter when he asked, “Since when? Last I knew, you were an idiot.”
“You don’t get it. My plan is totally working.”
Sighing, King turned to face Bohn who had sat down in the chair behind the counter for now.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What are you talking about?”
Bohn stuck out his tongue at him. “You’d know if you’d joined us in the bar last week. Or read any of the group chat messages, really.”
“You three idiots talk too much shit for me to pay attention to any of your messages. Also, you know I can’t go out on Fridays. Evening classes tend to do that to people.”
Frowning, Bohn kicked at King’s ankle. He grumbled something about not being an idiot and that Mek should be included in that category instead as King moved around in the shop, tending to the flowers.
“Well,” King said when Bohn got up to trail after him like a puppy, “are you going to tell me what you’re on about or not?”
Bohn crossed his arms, frowning. He looked like a sulking child more than an adult. King rolled his eyes at him.
“You know what?” Bohn asked, obviously rhetorical. “No. I’m not going to tell you. Just know that I have a plan and it’s working.”
King patted his friend’s arm. “Sure, buddy. Does your plan include helping me get the flowers inside?”
Bohn muttered something under his breath but moved past King to pick up one of the displays outside. He may be a dumbass but he was King’s dumbass. King grinned and joined his friend to do his job.
The bell above the door chimed at half past six on Monday. King had already picked out a rose earlier, a big pink one, and put it next to the cash register.
“I’ve got your rose here,” he said with a smile, looking up from where he’d been reading his lecture notes. It wasn’t Duen who stood in the shop, though. Instead, it was a boy in the same uniform with the same pin on his tie. He looked a lot more stoic than Duen, whose cheeks dimpled as soon as he and King’s eyes met these days.
King’s smile almost fell. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
The boy only nodded in response, looking around the shop. He turned his head to the side, revealing a tattoo of a dream catcher on his neck starting from behind his ear.
The tattoo paired with the stoic expression on the other’s face made King both scared and intrigued. King had always wanted a tattoo, but needles weren’t his thing and he wasn’t sure what he would want to get tattooed anyway. He just couldn’t choose one plant over the other.
Clearing his throat and steeling himself, King got up from his seat behind the counter. He walked up to the boy and asked, “Can I help you with something?”
They were around the same height, which was surprising. For some reason, King had expected the boy to be taller than him, just as Duen was. He gave off the vibes of a taller person.
Not-as-tall-as-he-could-be shook his head, then aborted the motion and nodded instead. He glanced behind King, presumably at the counter.
Now that King was looking at him properly, the boy seemed to be mixed-race. His skin was quite fair, and his eyes rounder than King was used to. Could it be that he understood Thai but he wasn’t that good at speaking?
King found his smile again despite the other’s unmoving face.
“How about you show me? Don’t worry, I can talk enough for two people.”
The boy didn’t even crack a smile, instead raising an eyebrow and levelling King with a look that said he’d rather King didn’t talk at all. King grinned at him.
“Sorry to disappoint, Cool Boy, but I’m physically unable to shut up. Now, if you’re clever about it, I can be directed to talk about something you either actually care about or something you can just tune out. I’ve been told I’m great background noise by several people, including but not limited to my older sisters, my friends, and some dude from a different flower shop.”
Cool Boy – King was going to call him this until the other offered up his name – hummed, moving past King, his gaze locked on the rose King had picked out for Duen. King was honestly not sure he wasn’t already tuning him out. Still, he trailed after him.
“Do you want a rose?” King asked, coming to stand next to the boy at the counter. “We have plenty of them back there. This one, I kinda picked out for someone else. Though I don’t know if he’s coming today since he’s usually already here at this time.”
Cool Boy stared at him. King stared back.
“Duen,” Cool Boy said suddenly, startling King so hard that he flinched.
“Oh.” King blinked. “You know him? I mean, you wear the same uniform but I didn’t want to assume. Is he alright? Did something happen to him? You’ve got to understand, this is the first time he didn’t come by himself, you know?”
Cool Boy nodded, his expression as unchanging as before. Unfortunately, King wasn’t sure which question he was nodding to. He’d asked, like, five. See, he wasn’t even sure himself how many questions he had asked, how was he supposed to know which one of them that nod was supposed to answer?
“Is he alright?” King repeated the question he definitely remembered asking. Cool Boy nodded. King let out a relieved breath. “That’s good, that’s good. So, are you here to pick up the rose in his place?”
Again, Cool Boy nodded. This was a very one-sided conversation, even more so than King was used to. But King wasn’t someone who pushed people out of their comfort zone, and he wasn’t going to start now.
Having solved the mystery of why Cool Boy was here and Duen wasn’t, and why Cool Boy seemed fixated on Duen’s rose, King nodded to himself, satisfied. He moved behind the counter to ring him up.
“Hey, Cool Boy, what’s up with the roses anyway? This is, undoubtedly, the weirdest ritual I’ve seen for flower buying. Is Duen hiding the roses across campus everyday and doing research on how long it takes people to notice or something?”
Somehow, Cool Boy managed to look even more intimidating than before. Huh, so he hadn’t been glaring until now. Still, King didn’t know what he’d said to make Cool Boy glare in the first place. Was it the nickname?
Against all expectations, Cool Boy actually opened his mouth to reply, “Delivery. Upperclassman.”
King made a face at the implication. “Are you telling me Duen is playing delivery boy for some upperclassman? Why? ”
The only answer he got was a deadpan stare. It had only been a few minutes since he’d met Cool Boy, but King was already getting used to his resting bitch face.
King held up his hands, a grin on his lips. “Hey, hey, I’ve got nothing to do with it. In fact, I don’t even go to the same university as you guys. Go glare at the upperclassman, not me.”
That said, King took the rose, holding it out to Cool Boy. “150 Baht.”
Cool Boy pulled two 100 Baht bills from his pocket, setting them down on the counter as he reached for the rose. King already had the change ready, having anticipated this, but instead of taking the offered money, Cool Boy shook his head.
“What?” King asked with a frown. “You’re not gonna take it?”
Cool Boy shook his head again, pointing at the tip jar next to the cash register. Maybe it was weird to have a tip jar in a flower shop, but capitalism was a bitch and desperate times called for desperate measures.
King blinked at the unexpected kindness. It wasn’t that people didn’t ever leave tips, he’d just gotten the impression that Cool Boy was not a fan of King’s. Then again, he didn’t know that this shop only had two employees, King and his boss. Deciding not to look a gift horse in its mouth, King put the 50 Baht into the tip jar.
“Thanks, Cool Boy.”
Cool Boy hummed in answer, dipping his head in what could be a shallow bow before turning and walking out of the shop.
This had been arguably weirder than King’s first encounter with Duen. And they were both from the same university, which made King wonder if people like them were usual there.
Thinking about weird customers with the same uniform and tie pin, a memory of first-year Bohn strolling into the flower shop popped up in his head.
“That’s Bohn’s university!”
King’s phone lit up with a message from Bohn not even an hour later.
Bohn : I was challenged to a boxing match
King : ????
Bohn : My crush’s friend challenged me to a boxing match
King : What the fuck
King : You have a crush?
Bohn : Read the group chat
Bohn : Also, not the pressing issue
King : Literally just say no. You can’t even box
Bohn : Too late
King let his head fall to the counter, sighing. Why was he friends with Bohn again? Who even got themselves into a situation like that? Bohn apparently. Not that it was anything new, per se. Still, every day King hoped his friend would gain more common sense.
Sure, King himself wasn’t the perfect picture of societal norms but at least he didn’t get punched for waking someone up or get into a boxing match with his crush’s friend. Damnit.
Maybe King should really check the group chat more often but Bohn, Boss, and Tee really did whine too much. King had the group chat on mute, and he didn’t want to read 1000 messages for five of actual importance. He didn’t even know what they had to talk about so much, considering all of his friends went to the same university, were in the same year, and studied the same thing.
And even if he read the group chat, he couldn’t have prevented Bohn’s current predicament unless he had been right next to him. Which would mean no botany, and that wasn’t something King was willing to give up.
King : Okay, well, can the friend box?
Bohn : Apparently he’s a boxing champion
King : Good luck not dying
King : What flowers do you want for your funeral?
Bohn : Fuck you
There was only so much ridiculousness King could take in a day, and between Cool Boy this morning and Bohn now, there wasn’t much free space left.
King resolved to pretend his conversation with Bohn hadn’t happened, retaining nothing but the fact that he had to ask Bohn about his crush when he next saw him.
His classes were cancelled, so King could go see his friends after his shift if he wanted to. Big if there. Then again, he could also see if he could find Duen or even Cool Boy since they went to the same university too. Sure, Duen was a med student and King didn’t know what Cool Boy was studying, but King had always had a sixth sense for other people.
King : When’s your fight happening?
Bohn : In a week
King : Can’t come
King : Got an exam
Bohn : You’d bet against me anyway
King didn’t grace that with a response. Just because it was true didn’t mean he had to acknowledge it. If Bohn wanted to get into fights he could only lose, he could, but he shouldn’t expect King to back him up. It wasn’t good for King’s blood pressure.
Deciding his friend’s recent escapades weren’t worth his attention – except for that crush tidbit – King decided to shop for a new plant later, feeling his place to be a little lonely lately. And what was better to battle loneliness than a tiny plant baby?
Lily came down from the office at around half past eleven to tell King she was ordering Chinese and ask him if he wanted anything. King would, of course, never say no to free food.
They closed up the shop when their food came, eating in comfortable silence in the backroom. Lily was just as much of a plant nerd as King, so they usually spent a lot of time just geeking out, but today seemed to be a down day for both of them.
King cleared the table when they were done as Lily glanced at the clock to see how much time she had left until she had to get to work.
“Is it a slow day today?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, twirling her hair between her fingers. King nodded.
“P’Jet came by earlier, and there were a few other people, but it seems that there aren’t a lot of people going around today anyway. Someone will come pick up their order later today, going by the name of Pitaporn, an arrangement of only Chrysanthemums. I put it under the counter.”
Lily hummed in consideration. Her chair wobbled slightly as she leant back far enough to tip it over. For a woman in her early thirties, she seemed very young at times.
“Well,” she said, gesturing as King, “what are you waiting for? Get out of here.”
“Phi, I don’t have any classes today–”
“And I don’t have any patience. Get out and live your best life, youngster. Party it up or whatever.”
“That’s not even a real saying,” King grumbled under his breath. He still collected his things though, not daring to talk back to his boss when she’d explicitly told him to make himself scarce. He knew she did it for his own good, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He really wouldn’t mind staying for a few hours and helping her with orders, but Lily’s word was law in her shop.
Time to get a new plant then.
The thought cheered King up considerably, already having the perfect picture in mind. There was a space on his window sill where a small Venus Fly Trap would fit perfectly, and he’d always wanted one anyway. Now he just had to find the right one.
Lost in his thoughts, King didn’t notice the dogs until it was too late. One of them barked and King had scrambled up the nearest bench before the others even joined in.
“Cynophobia!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t even get a good look at the things but he was sure they were at least two metres tall with teeth so sharp they could rip him apart in seconds.
“Quiet. Sit.” The commands came in English, said calmly enough to make even King relax a little. It didn’t exactly make his heart beat any slower, but the dogs stopped barking and King could finally open his eyes to judge if he had a good enough distance from the beasts.
The answer was always no, of course.
However. The person standing just behind the fluffy beasts was none other than Cool Boy. He could obviously handle them well, so King feared for his life a little less than usual.
“Cool Boy,” King squeaked, trying to get his heartbeat under control, “did Duen set you up to this because he wasn’t satisfied with the rose? I swear it was the prettiest one out of the bunch! Definitely not worth bringing three dogs over. Three! Not even a chihuahua but huskies.”
Learning dog breed names had been an effort to get less scared of them. Evidently, it hadn’t worked. Not only was King terrified, he was not even making any sense with his accusations.
Cool Boy was standing behind his three dogs, stoic face still in place as the dogs salivated over the thought of King between their canines. Okay, maybe they were just panting but King swore could see the feral glint in their eyes.
“Are you gonna walk past?” King asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He failed spectacularly.
Tilting his head, Cool Boy looked from King to the path in front of him to the dogs down at his feet. He tipped down his chin in what King assumed to be a nod at first – making his heart rate spike again – but was just the shallowest bow in existence. Instead of continuing forward, Cool Boy whistled and turned, the dogs following him without hesitation.
King let out a shaky breath, not letting down his guard until they had turned a corner. Then he collapsed on the bench, breathing heavily and wiping his sweat away with trembling hands.
Since Cool Boy was apparently Duen’s friend, King wondered if Duen had dogs too or those had been Duen’s dogs and Cool Boy had just been walking them. But with how the commands had been in English and the dogs had followed Cool Boy’s whistle that was unlikely.
Great. Cool Boy was the owner of three – three! – dogs.
King didn’t know why it bothered him. He barely knew the boy, hell, he didn’t even know his name, and he doubted he would see him again anytime soon. Maybe by coincidence when he visited his friends at college but that was it.
Shaking his head, King steadied himself and continued on his way. He had bigger things to worry about than Cool Boy. Or, well, smaller ones. Ones that could fit on his window sill.
King had called Bohn in the afternoon to ask him about his crush and had gotten a non-answer. Apparently it was the boy who’d punched him, a med school first-year, but that was about the extent of what King could get out of his friend. Instead of telling King his name or how Bohn’s ‘hatred’ had changed to a crush, Bohn just went on to gush over said crush, but not before he smugly declared that his plan had actually worked.
King had learnt that the boy was cute, adorable, pretty, but not empty-headed. The last one should have been obvious considering he was a med student, but Bohn focused more on the way he would blush in embarrassment but still roast Bohn at the same time.
To be honest, King kind of wanted to see it. He knew Bohn was popular for some reason, so except for their friends no one really talked back to him anymore. If Bohn’s crush was doing so, he probably didn’t care about Bohn’s fangirls and the like.
King wondered if Duen knew the student since they were both med school freshmen, but he didn’t know how big the medicine department was. Maybe he could ask him if he’d heard anything about a boxing match and who it was about.
He could ask his other friends, but this way he had something to talk about with Duen, and he really did appreciate having someone younger to take care of.
He wasn’t very close to his peers at college, and even less so the juniors. Honestly, King wasn’t even sure why. He was outgoing, had the perfect notes, and was willing to share. Sure, he got along well enough with his seat neighbours and lab partners, but they weren’t really friends, as evident by the fact that he was a third-year and had never even invited any of them over to study.
He wondered if botany and medicine had any study materials in common, and then asked himself if Cool Boy was a med student like Duen, but he just couldn’t see it. Cool Boy was too silent – too stoic – to work in a field that would require him to actually interact with people on the daily. Not to mention, if he really wasn’t completely fluent in Thai as King suspected, that would be a problem too. So King decided for himself that Cool Boy was definitely not a med student.
Maybe he could ask Duen about that as well the next time he showed up.
Only, there wasn’t a next time. At least not for Duen.
Cool Boy walked into the shop just as King was fighting off Home’s attempt at putting a 1000 Baht note into the tip jar. She was one of their regulars and had come in for a small bouquet to gift her son and daughter-in-law since she was going to be a grandmother. The bouquet itself only cost 900 baht, so King wasn’t going to let her tip him more than she even had to pay in total. Capitalism hadn’t gotten that far into his bones yet.
“Good morning,” he greeted Cool Boy, smiling and clamping his hands together over the jar.
Cool Boy grunted in response, doing his shallow bow thing again. Instead of coming up to the counter like King had expected him to, he veered off to the side, looking at their flower displays.
“Oh, who’s that young man?” Home asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen him here before.”
King shook his head, looking back down at her. “It’s only the second time he’s been here. You know Duen, the one who gets only one rose every morning? He’s his friend.”
Home nodded and made a noise of understanding. She’d been in the shop several times when Duen had shown up, either just browsing their options or with a specific order in mind. She’d obviously taken to the boy too, as evident by her pinching his cheek at their third meeting.
“He has a very different aura to him, but I can see how they could fit together,” Home said, smiling. “Ah, I hope if I have a grandson that he’s going to be just like them.”
King snorted. “You don’t even really know them, P’Home.”
Shrugging, Home replied, “They come to a flower shop early in the morning, that’s enough for me.”
King laughed, loosening his grip on the tip jar just a little, and Home immediately used the opportunity. She snatched the jar out of his hands and stuffed the 1000 Baht note in there. Then she turned around with the jar still in hand and speed-walked over to Cool Boy before King could get the jar back. She handed it to Cool Boy, said something to him and promptly left the shop, bidding King a loud goodbye over his scandalised, “P’Home!”
The bell jingled and then it was silent in the shop. King turned to look at Cool Boy, who was gripping the tip jar tight and looking – for all intents and purposes – like he had just been accosted.
“Cool Boy,” King said with a smile, rounding the counter, “how about I take that jar, and you go and show me what you want to–”
King cut himself off. He’d tried to take a swipe at the tip jar but Cool Boy had immediately lifted it over his head, stretching his body so that King would have to at least get on his tiptoes to get it.
Staring at him in confusion, King asked, “What’s this, a robbery? You’re not robbing a soon-to-be grandmother, are you?”
Cool Boy shook his head. “Was given a mission.”
King frowned. “Mission? By who– P’Home told you to not let me get to it, didn’t she?”
Cool Boy nodded.
“And she threatened to bite your hand off?”
Cool Boy nodded again. King sighed, putting a hand on his temple. Home had a certain unhinged quality to her when she really wanted something. Her go-to threat was biting off someone’s hand and – though King had never actually seen her do it – she would probably not hesitate to follow through with it if she so desired.
“Alright Cool Boy, will it be enough for me to promise that I won’t touch the money other than to put it in the cash register? ‘Cause I don’t really feel comfortable just having 1000 Baht on display.”
Cool Boy slowly lowered the jar far enough for King to grab it. He then monitored King carefully as he went back to the counter and put the bill into the cash register. He seemed to take Home’s threat very seriously, which said good things about his character.
“So.” King grinned at Cool Boy when he’d put the bill where it belonged. “I’m guessing you’re here as a replacement for Duen again. Another rose today?”
Cool Boy shook his head and King frowned.
“No? Did the upperclassman finally come to his senses and stop demanding ridiculous things?”
King thought he saw the faintest pink on Cool Boy’s cheeks as he shrugged. “Anything else.”
King tilted his head in question. “He wants anything but a rose?”
This time Cool Boy nodded, although he looked a little hesitant as he did so. King drummed his fingers on the counter top, trying to come up with a flower that Cool Boy wouldn’t look ridiculous carrying around.
His eyes landed on the display of Iris they just got yesterday and he immediately came to a decision.
“What do you think of the Bearded Iris?” King asked, already making his way around the counter again. Cool Boy shrugged, looked at the flowers King was now gesturing at, and shrugged again.
King took that as a sign of him not rejecting them and so, set about finding the prettiest one.
“Bearded Iris symbolises things like courage and hope, but every colour also has its own meaning. For example, this purple one is most appropriate to give someone after a big achievement ‘cause it stands for wisdom and strength as well. The white one here stands for purity and innocence. When P’Home inevitably asks for a bouquet to congratulate her daughter-in-law on her newborn, it’s definitely going to contain these flowers.”
King went on and on, as he usually did when he wasn’t interrupted. Cool Boy stood by and nodded at the appropriate times, which King appreciated. He wasn’t sure if the other was actually listening, but at least he pretended to, which was more than some other people did.
So King chattered and chattered more than one should be able to while just picking a flower. He rang Cool Boy up before he could go on to list every flower related to the Iris.
“110.”
Cool Boy handed him 120, then proceeded to put the change in the tip jar, holding stubborn eye contact with King. Well, it was better than the 1000 Baht tip. King grinned at him.
“Thanks, Cool Boy.”
King received a nod in return, and watched as the boy turned and left the store. It was only then that he noticed Cool Boy had bound his dogs to the pole outside. There was a strict no dogs policy in the shop, both because of the flowers and King’s phobia.
King could barely hold back the urge to jump on the counter when the dogs looked inside the shop as Cool Boy led them away. Who was to say they wouldn’t suddenly break free and run inside?
But Cool Boy had a good handle of things, so the dogs simply walked past, following their owner. King let out a relieved breath.
Cool Boy came into the shop the next three mornings in a row. He let King rant about the plants he picked for the day, and he didn’t always bring his dogs.
On Friday, King asked him, “Do you know about the boxing match that’s going to take place on Monday at your university?”
Cool Boy froze as he was handing King two 100 Baht bills. Then he nodded slowly.
King sighed, shaking his head.
“One of the two participating is my friend. Apparently his crush’s friend challenged him and he was stupid enough to say yes. And the dude is a boxing champion! Who says yes to a boxing match with a champion when he can’t even punch straight?”
“You’re alright with it?” Cool Boy asked, officially saying the longest sentence King had ever heard him say.
King blinked at him a little in surprise, overwhelmed by a few words. Cool Boy tilted his head when King failed to answer, so King shook himself and replied, “With what? That he accepted the challenge?”
Cool Boy shook his head and King furrowed his brows. “That he was challenged in the first place? As long as the fight is fair, his crush’s friend could ask him to a monster truck race for all I care. Sure, it’s a bit weird but not the worst that’s happened to Bohn. Ah, Bohn is my friend.”
Nodding, Cool Boy handed over the bills and grabbed the Jasmine King had picked out today. He handled flowers a lot more delicately than his face suggested he would.
“Bye, Cool Boy,” King said with a smile. “Have fun in class!”
Cool Boy turned around from where he was already at the entrance, dipping his head in that shallow bow of his, then exited the shop.
On Monday evening Bohn sent him a selfie, bruised up but grinning into the camera and throwing up a peace sign.
Bohn : I live
King : Good job
King : I’m guessing you lost
Bohn : Kinda
Bohn : Duen stopped it before Ram could get a definite win
Duen? Duen was the med student Bohn had a crush on? And who was Ram? Duen’s friend, King assumed. For some reason, Cool Boy flashed before his inner eye.
King : Ram doesn’t happen to have resting bitch face, and a dream catcher tattoo on his neck, does he?
Bohn : That’s him. How did you know?
King : Where are you
Bohn : My dorm. Why?
King opted not to answer Bohn, instead grabbing his keys and making his way to Bohn’s dorm.
It took him about half an hour to get there, even pedaling his bike as fast as he could, but that didn’t do anything to mellow his temper and soften King’s knocks on Bohn’s door. Bohn opened quickly enough, and King flicked his forehead.
“Bohn Ananda Sirikarnkul! You forced a first-year to bring you flowers every day at ass o’clock? I taught you better than that.”
Bohn winced. He looked even worse in person than on screen, but King wasn’t going to take pity on an idiot.
“How did you know?” Bohn asked, immediately bringing his hands up to his face as protection as King lifted his hand to flick him again. “Alright, yes! I did! But I told him he could stop, like, two weeks ago.”
King furrowed his brows. “Then why–”
He cut himself off, glancing down the hallway before inviting himself in. Bohn let him slip by without so much as a sigh.
“Okay,” King said when they were situated comfortably on Bohn’s couch. “Tell me how it all went down. Duen accidentally punched you, you told him to get you flowers for some reason, and then what happened?”
“After a while, I told him he could stop with the flowers. I realised my crush on him, and I knew he had to wake up really early to get them to me on time, so I didn’t want him to do it anymore. He seemed happy enough, but he still brought me the flowers. We even went on two dates when I told him I liked him. And then, last Monday, Ram just came up to me and challenged me to a boxing match. I said yes, obviously. Duen stopped bringing me flowers, but he said it’s because he wants to save up.”
King blinked, trying to comprehend what Bohn had just said and fitting it in with what he already knew. If he didn’t have to give anyone flowers, why was Cool Boy – Ram – still buying them every day?
He’d come by this morning too, letting himself be talked into buying a sunflower. And he’d obviously realised that King was Bohn’s friend but hadn’t said anything, neither on Friday nor today during King’s morning chat. Well, he’d asked on Friday if King was alright with Bohn being challenged, and King understood not wanting to say something along the lines of ‘By the way, I’m the one who challenged your friend. Also, he doesn’t stand a chance’.
Resolving to ask Ram tomorrow, King turned his attention back to his friend.
“So,” he began, “what happens now?”
Bohn puffed out his chest like a proud rooster. “I have official permission to date Duen. Don’t worry, I will always listen to your advice on communication!”
King sighed. “I can’t believe your stupid plan was to force Duen to buy you flowers and it worked.”
“I told you it was working.” Bohn grinned. “You always tell me that plants are the best thing that can happen to anyone.”
“Yeah, but that’s my personal opinion! Most people couldn’t care less about them.”
Bohn shrugged. “It worked, so I’m not complaining. Hey, by the way, how did you know what Ram looks like?”
King didn’t necessarily want to answer that question. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was because Ram had just beaten Bohn in a boxing match, maybe he felt it was too personal a thing to share, maybe–
King was saved from thinking up excuses by a series of knocks on Bohn’s door. Bohn’s eyebrows furrowed as he got up. Evidently, he wasn’t expecting anyone.
“P’Bohn, P’Thara already told me he let you go home,” came a familiar voice from behind the door. Bohn was at the door in a second, a wide smile on his face as he opened it.
King watched as Bohn let Duen fuss over him. The boy was carrying a very full bag but that wasn’t stopping him from touching Bohn’s face, obviously concerned.
“Let me make you something– Oh, P’King!”
Duen had shouldered past Bohn and only then set eyes on King. Smiling, King got up and slung an arm around Duen’s shoulders.
“I can’t believe you pulled my best friend, Duen. Are you sure the roses’ fumes didn’t make you stupid?”
Duen laughed, shaking his head as he replied, “No way, P’King. I held them as far away from me as possible. I was surprised to find out you guys were friends, though. Ram thought it was some kind of weird plot that you guys were planning to make my life miserable. I don’t know where he got that idea, but after the fight today, he’s begrudgingly accepted P’Bohn.”
King tilted his head. “Did Ram tell you Bohn and I are friends?”
“Oh, no.” Duen shook his head again. He backed away from King, pulling groceries out of his bag and putting them on the counter instead. “I saw you two outside the shop one day but I didn’t want to approach you. I just told Ram about it ’cause it was a crazy coincidence…”
Duen trailed off at the end before his gaze snapped up and he glared at Bohn. “P’Bohn, you didn’t tell me to get flowers to you by seven because the shop P’King works at is the only one open that early and isn’t that close to university, did you?”
Bohn winced, rubbing the back of his neck. King and Duen both reached out at the same time to hit him upside the head.
“I can’t believe you,” King hissed. “You’re such an asshole.”
“What he said,” Duen agreed.
Bohn pouted, turning his big pleading eyes on them. “I’m sorry, Duen. Really really sorry. Sometimes I just can’t think straight!”
King snorted at that. “More like never.”
That earned him a smack upside the head from Bohn. Duen looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
The boy then proceeded to invite King to eat with them, but King declined. He’d already eaten and, anyway, he didn’t want to see the two lovebirds interact any more than he had to.
So he excused himself, cycling back to his own dorm at a more sedate pace than before. He had a lot to think about, especially regarding Ram. The boy had apparently known from the start that King was Bohn’s friend. Not only that, he’d continued buying flowers for seemingly no real reason. Not that people needed a particular reason to buy flowers, but buying flowers from King meant getting your ear talked off. Maybe Ram really did have someone to give the flowers to, though King couldn’t picture it.
He resolved to ask Ram about it if he still came to the shop tomorrow.
Against all expectations, Ram did actually show up. His dogs were with him and he looked like he wanted to rip someone’s head off, but he came.
King watched as he bound his dogs to the pole outside before patting their heads and stepping inside.
“Good morning,” King greeted him, receiving a grunt in return. Ram looked a little less murderous than before by the time he reached the counter.
Before he could help himself, King blurted out, “What’s your favourite flower?”
Ram shrugged, glanced around the shop, then shrugged again.
“What do you think of Venus Fly Traps?”
Strictly speaking, the Venus Fly Trap wasn’t a flower. It could flower but the traps themselves were, obviously, not flowers. For some reason, it was the first plant that came to mind when he thought of Ram.
“Interesting,” Ram answered.
“Oh.” King felt himself blushing for a reason he didn’t even know. “Cool. Hey, we don’t have them in stock right now–” or ever – “but I’ll get you one as soon as I can. Sound good?”
Ram nodded. For a second, it looked like the corner of his lips ticked upwards, but it was gone too fast for King to be sure if he’d seen it right. King cleared his throat.
“Anyway, what flower will it be today?”
Ram gave him a look that said, ‘You should choose, obviously’, so King did just that. He walked around the shop, trailing his fingers over several flowers’ foliage and wondering if he should ask who Ram was buying flowers for, if not the upperclassman he’d given as a reason before. Somehow, the words got stuck in his throat though.
Instead, King recounted everything he could recall about the Astrantia – Masterwort – as he came to a stop in front of them and started looking for the prettiest one.
Ram, as was routine, stood by and listened. He even added the occasional hum to his nods.
“What are your dogs called?” King asked when he finally managed to stop rambling. He picked one of the flowers and made his way back to the counter.
“Cocoa, Tiramisu, and Dazai.”
King stared down at the flower, not sure he wanted to look at Ram right now. “Wow. Those sure are… names. Why would you name two of them after food and one after a novelist?”
Ram was silent until King looked up at him again.
“I named Dazai,” he said. “Cocoa was my mother, Tiramisu was my brother.”
King mentally updated his list of ‘Ram’s longest sentences’. He should have known that the dogs would be what got Ram to say the most words in one sentence. Dogs were to Ram what plants were to King, that much King was sure of. You didn’t just get three dogs for the fun of it.
King smiled, then rang Ram up. As usual, Ram left the change in the tip jar before taking the flower and walking to the exit. King opened his mouth to say goodbye, but Ram turned around before he left the shop.
“Watch,” he said with no context whatsoever. King snapped his mouth shut again. He watched as Ram unbound the dogs but didn’t keep the leashes in his hand as he usually did. Instead, he got up, walked a little further away from the dogs, then called their names.
“Cocoa.” The one with the light brown fur on top trotted up to him, barking up at him. King flinched at the sound, but Ram was quick to shush the dog and take its leash.
“Tiramisu.” This time it was the dog with the darker brown walking up to him. Ram took the leash and called for the last one.
“Dazai.” The dog with grey fur on its head and back jumped up and ran to Ram. Ram simply said, “Sit.”
Somehow, the dog listened, though it continued to whine as Ram took its leash. Ram turned to look at King and, for the first time, brought his hands together in a wai as he dipped his head.
“Goodbye, P’King.”
Was King hallucinating? Was he dreaming? Not only had Ram spoken more than five words in total – he’d actually said a whole sentence – but he’d bid King a proper goodbye for the first time. He’d said King’s name. King’s brain was short-circuiting and he didn’t even know why.
Almost in a trance, he pulled out his phone and dialled Bohn’s number.
“What,” Bohn grumbled. King had forgotten that it was barely seven in the morning. Well, who cared. This was an emergency.
“I think P’Khamfa’s fantasies are coming true.”
“Huh.”
“I think I have a crush on Ram.”
It was silent for a second, then King heard a disbelieving, “What? Repeat that?”
Instead, King hung up. Fuck. He had a crush on Ram.
He hadn’t even known the boy for more than a week and he had a crush on him!
He called Bohn again.
“When did you start crushing on Duen?”
“I don’t know. Like a week after I met him. What–”
Bohn’s question was cut off by King hanging up again. Did he really have a crush on Ram? Why?
Okay, yes, King could admit that Ram was conventionally attractive, but King had never cared much about appearances before. Was it because of how Ram was silent but not dismissive? Like, the whole ‘opposites attract’ theory? Because King and Ram were, if nothing else, opposites.
King let his head fall down on the counter with a whine.
He’d had crushes before, of course, but those had been crushes on girls and only one of them had led to a relationship. And that hadn’t even lasted for two months.
‘You’re too obsessed with plants,’ she’d told him.
‘I hope her socks are always wet,’ had been Bohn’s response when King had asked him if he thought so too. So that had been a no.
And, wait, why was King even thinking of relationships? He and Ram weren’t even friends.
King groaned, burying his head in his arms. He was just going to have to pull through and hope he was wrong about his feelings, somehow.
When King got home that evening, he looked for one of his spare pots and earth packets. Then he sat down in his dedicated plant room that he used for putting plants in decorative glass structures or simply repotting them, with his little Venus Fly Trap and a mission.
The next morning, Ram came in again. He looked more tired than usual, his hair not perfectly combed back and with bags under his eyes. King didn’t dare ask though, instead walking around the shop with Ram following him around.
King came to a stop in front of a bunch of red flowers.
“What do you study?” King asked Ram, instead of prattling on about the Linum Grandiflorum, commonly known as flax.
“Engineering.”
“Oh, cool. You know, I’m studying botany but I would have studied engineering if I wasn’t accepted. In fact, all of my friends study engineering, too. The group that Bohn always hangs out with.”
King could see Ram nod out of the corner of his eyes.
“They’re a really rowdy bunch. Except for Mek. Mek’s kind of like you. Only different. I don’t know how to explain it–”
“P’King.”
King looked at Ram with wide eyes, surprised at being interrupted. And by his name no less.
Ram nodded at the flax. “The flowers?”
“Ah.” King turned back, staring at the flowers. “Right. Linum Grandiflorum, red flax. Anything in the Linum genus is referred to as flax, but there are a lot of different kinds. Red flax originated in Algeria, though it’s an introduced species in Northern Africa, Southern Europe and a few places in North America. Not specifically this kind, but the whole genus as a whole has a lot of different meanings, ranging from righteousness to creativity.”
As King continued to ramble, he chanced a few glances at Ram. The boy couldn’t actually care about what King was saying. King had been told one too many times that his rants went on for too long on the best of days. Even Bohn, who indulged him sometimes, wouldn’t be able to listen to him talk about plants every day.
Yet here Ram was, making King run out of flowers to talk about by showing up five days a week.
And he just continued to do so. King was actually down to the only three kinds of flowers left in their shop that he hadn’t sold to Ram yet by the time the Venus Fly Trap he’d been growing for Ram was big enough.
So King took the plant with him to work on Friday.
Ram showed up at six thirty on the dot. He raised his hands in a wai, dipping his head.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” King replied. He waited until Ram was standing in front of the counter before reaching inside the bag he’d put the Venus Fly Trap in. “I have something for you.”
Ram tilted his head in question. King pulled out the plant, presenting it to the other and trying not to blush. Trying being the key word here.
His face felt like it was on fire when he said, “The Venus Fly Trap I promised you. Sorry it took me this long.”
Ram looked down at the plant and – King was sure that he wasn’t imagining it this time – smiled. Ram smiled.
“D’you want to go out tomorrow?”
The question left King’s mouth before he even thought about it. Ram looked up at him again, smile no smaller than before.
Then he gingerly raised his hands to take the plant from King. Their fingers brushed and King’s heart skipped a beat.
“Yes,” Ram said, his eyes kinder than ever before. “I’d like to.”