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Boo Seungkwan is a dandelion like a gentle warm wind coming in the spring – spreading its hope, wishes and how he feels. People know him as the mood maker of the group. You could always see him smiling and grinning on all the variety shows he’s on. He can be seen singing and dancing his little heart out. This is how the fans and Seventeen members see him.
However, we do have our off days and times of gloom and sadness just like the drooping of bleeding hearts. They hold dualities of emotions from passionate love to sorrow and emotional vulnerability.
He is as fragile as an anemone, the beautiful wind – flower. Its petals are thin and can easily crumble by hatred. Its light and pleasant scent can waft through the forest by the winds of spring, and its tough roots extend underneath the surface of the soil elegantly.
I once saw him rubbing his wrists with a solemn expression. They burned with red as if he was pricked by the tough thorns of a wild rose. His head was down, and tears were crinkling at the corners of his eyes. They were threatening to drop to the ground like morning dew. I was peeking in through the opening of the door to our shared bedroom. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered to himself. I couldn’t bring myself to confront him about it that day. I was too scared it would only get worse.
You’re beautiful. I wanted to tell him that. He is truly beautiful like a field of sunflowers when they first start to spread their golden petals and bask in the sun. The light rays kiss their petals hello for the first time.
He brings himself down yet puts others before himself. He has made sure everyone is able to count on him. To lean on him for support. For such a strong sunflower, he bottles everything inside just waiting to explode. He thinks to himself as if he were the weeds on the ground, the dead tired trees and the fallen leaves that take up too much space. He believes that he doesn’t deserve the blooming of the flowers as they will only wilt at his touch.
When I look at him, I don’t just see rows and rows of floral beauty. I see butterflies fluttering happily with bees buzzing for nectar and resting on pollen. He is as shy as when sweet peas bloom – holding such vivid colours and fragrance of charming romance and blissful pleasure. It does take him a while to fully bloom and fully develop out of his shell. When he is ready, the ruffled blooms look like many butterflies shimmering in the fields. He gives me butterflies as they blossom in my stomach.
When he goes to sleep at night, soft sniffles may be heard and those muffled sobs tear me apart. I want to hold him in a vase and fill it with love and cherish him forever. Even if you cannot love yourself, I will forever love you. I wish I could tell him that. When he cries, it is as if rain is pouring down on his petals. It hurts him so much that the petals start to tear apart and he just can’t do anything about it.
Seungkwan is a magnificent vocalist, yet he tends to be insecure about it. He sings with an open heart like larkspurs fluttering through the skies when the pink, white and purple petals sway gracefully with its dancing partner, the eternal winds. His elegant breath makes it seem as if he is careful not to crush the florals beneath him.
Yet he calls himself ugly. Pathetic. Disgrace. All sorts of negative words. He flinches from happiness. He is unable to handle it like a white baby’s breath – the flower symbolic of innocence and purity. How can I help him?
This man gives me such loving thoughts like a fair pansy when it oozes its scent at dawn and dusk. I want to hold his hands and give him loving smiles. I want him to know that I will never forget him as if I were the stick to support his stem up high. Like the hibiscus, he will always be a permanence reminder of life. He is a delicate beauty that is unable to be touched.
With the worst of the worst, he broke down in scattered camellia petals – his devotion breaking apart. It was deep into the night, darker than chocolate cosmos, he whispered softly, “Hey, Vernon? Are you sleeping?” Silence answered him as I stared at the ceiling. He sighed, “I’m glad.”
He sobbed and sobbed loudly, “Who would love a monster like me? For I am as ugly on the outside as in,” Seungkwan whimpered to himself – believing no one can hear him. Only the flowers around him and I could. I wish he thought beautifully of himself. I wanted to scream and shout that he was perfect just like the camellias lying on the floor.
He is beautiful beyond flowers and anything in this world. I just don’t know how to save him from wilting away from me.