Archive of Our Own

Lily of The Valley, DANIEL

With March just around the corner, spring started to breathe life into the previously cold streets of Seoul. As the snow thawed, people dared to put their coats and puffer jackets back in the wardrobe. Even the cutesy animals; squirrels, racoon dogs and butterflies, were seen basking in the sunlight after months of sleeping and hiding. 

Gradually after the frozen layer that created a winter wonderland melted, a lovely shade of baby pink bloomed on the bare trees. The petals were consistent and travelled far with the wind, spreading that feeling of new beginnings in the air. Spring made life bearable again. The days became longer again and people could go outside without needing at least five layers of clothing. 

Besides, the beautiful weather kept business alive. Restaurants and cafes were filled during lunch, either by students as young as middle schoolers or co-workers deciding to eat outside. But other boutiques became busier too, like the many flower shops scattered around in Seoul.

Funerals, birthdays, baby showers, graduation ceremonies and weddings were events happening all year round which, more often than not, required bouquets with one's attendance. However, it was something about the sun finally peeking out that made people more adventurous. Buying flowers just because they could. To liven up the apartment, give it more color and love amidst bland furniture. To put a smile on someone else’s face whether it be a lover, friend or relative.

“Thank you for coming!” 

Wooyoung waved the elderly woman good-bye and watched her step out in the sunlight again with a bouquet of peonies neatly wrapped in brown paper. The chime of the bell erupted gleefully at her departure and Wooyoung hummed along to the sound. He began wiping the counter clean from excess leaves and stems, careful not to prick himself on the thorns from the debudded roses. Another two dozen red roses laid abandoned, patiently waiting for their turn to become an outstanding bouquet. 

The shop was cozy and small, almost appearing crowded from the array of different flowers. It was formed into a sideways ‘L’ with grey walls and an equally dark ceiling.

Wooyoung looked over the space from the counter. The moment you entered the shop, you were greeted by the workshop that was connected to the cashier register. It was just one long dark oak slab with two swing doors on each end. A sink and cupboards occupied the space behind, giving quick access to scissors, water, ribbons or whatever other tools were needed during the making of a bouquet.

The entrance was between two big windows almost beginning from the floor. Each pane had the words ‘UTOPIA’ written across in a gold colored font and an orange light bulb hanging from the ceiling. During the day, the space was illuminated by the sunrays seeping through the windows and casting a shimmering glow inside. The various flowers, tulips, roses, peonies, placed on the window sills called for the attention of the passersby. They were exceptionally beautiful as the sunlight shone down on them and impossible to ignore. It was a magical sight from outside. 

Wooyoung loved the shop more than anything. Creating art from the supplies of nature and bringing even just a speck of joy into someone else’s life was something he adored. 

Before he could start on his next project the bell jingled again, announcing the arrival of another customer. The florist put on his service smile and greeted the woman and little girl holding tightly onto, what presumably was, her mom. They gave him a little bow in return, a chorus of hello’s filling the space inside.

“Welcome to Utopia. How can I help you?”

“Ah, we are just looking around for now,” the woman answered, kindness dripping off her words. 

The girl, who couldn’t have been older than eight years old, tried hiding behind her mother. Wooyoung smiled so hard that his eyes crinkled which just made the girl bury her head into the woman’s thigh. 

Cute, he thought and diverted his attention elsewhere. 

“I see. If there’s anything I can be of help to, please do reach out.”

The woman nodded and called for her daughter to follow as they went further inside the shop, toward the big freezer with an even bigger choice of flowers. The woman nodded and called for her daughter to follow as they went further inside the shop, toward the large cooler filled with a wide selection of flowers. They weren’t pre-made bouquets, but stems customers could either have arranged by the florist or buy in whatever amounts they liked to create their own arrangements at home.

“Mom! Look at the peonies!” The high voice of the girl could be heard throughout the boutique. 

Wooyoung smiled in awe, but it lasted for a brief moment. The second his fingers grazed the stems of the roses all colors of the rainbow flashed before his eyes. Although he could feel and wiggle all his ten fingers and toes, he wasn’t completely in tune with his body. The sounds around him grew distant as if he was thrown into a pool of water. The only thing he was able to make out were the beats of his own erratic heart doing nothing to keep himself calm.

Faded giggles of a young child echoed through the blob of water and a swooshing sound erupted in his ears, allowing all the noise back in. Wooyoung flinched and widened his eyes as multiple images appeared before him. Some of them were more vivid than others while others brought a sense of deja-vu, as if they were a memory being re-lived.

Two pairs of eyes both belonging to children staring at each other, a commoners market, people wearing hanboks, horses racing down a gravely path and lastly, a rose being handed to someone. Childish laughter, older men shouting, coins clinking together and crickets chirping played over the visions. 

Wooyoung stared at his own reflection in the pond, but the person he was seeing didn’t belong to the modern world. A blue hanbok hung off his scrawny body, his usually short hair was long enough to be tied in a bun and his face bare as the day he was born. The very graphic images burst into nothing as he was brought back to the present, hand hovering over the flowers and breathing irregularly as if just having run a marathon.

He blinked once, then twice and suddenly snapped his head around. The oxygen left his body at a fast pace and heart thundered against his chest, reality dawning on him hard and fast. Wooyoung just hoped that the customers hadn’t noticed anything. Not that they would question it. The flashes, as some would call them, were a universal experience, one that Wooyoung had yet to master the art of hiding.

“That’s the fifth time this week,” Wooyoung complained as he recounted the event to his colleague and best friend from elementary school. “I even saw the pity in that woman’s eyes. I swear, she knew what happened and how it affected me… How embarrassing.”

Yeosang was tentatively listening to the complaints while simultaneously sorting congratulation cards into different piles on the counter. He wore a pair of black suit pants and a creamy white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The brown apron, identical to Wooyoung’s, hid the black leather belt looped through his pants. Yellow hand stitched letters read UTOPIA across his chest and a derpy looking sun took place as the ‘O’. Everyone that worked in the shop had to sow on the logo by themselves. Let’s just say not one looked anything like the other, but it was a wholesome tradition. 

“Did you journal it?” 

Wooyoung, who stood on the opposite side of the counter where the queue would form, leaned his chin against the palm of his hand, elbow propped up on the surface. He then dropped that same arm down, head following and bumping on the slab. The abrupt motion caused a gust of air to the sides and slipped beneath the cards, wiping them straight off the counter.

“Wooyoung…!” Yeosang sighed, sparks of irritation headed toward the shop owner and dropped the rest of the papers on the bench. 

“You already know I have! Not that it changes anything, it doesn’t bring me anywhere closer to finding my soulmate nor do the visions slow down. Like the doctors said they would… They still catch me off guard and I can’t… not show it! Ughhh, how did you do it?”

“You already know the answer to that. We all handle them differently, besides, mine were short lived. Jongho and I met in–”

“In high school, I know, I know.”

“And I didn’t experience my first memory until secondary school,” Yeosang pointed out casually. “You were an early bloomer, Woo, already seeing the flashes in pre-school.”

Wooyoung made a sound between a mewl and groan as he headbutted the counter. “Early bloomer my ass. I got to see memories from my past life at the age of eight, but I didn't grow until high school. What kind of bullshit is that?”

A snort left the redhead. He gently managed to slide a cloth between Wooyoung’s forehead and table, fearing the abuse to his temple would bruise into a blemish identical to his own hair. 

“The universe works in mysterious ways. There’s more than likely a sensible explanation for your memories being more frequent than usual.”

“I hate the universe,” he grumbled and lifted his head, slipping his arms beneath and rested it against his forearms. 

The position lasted for a few seconds before he changed it up again. The sensation of his chin digging into his flesh wasn’t pleasant at all. Instead, he dropped his face in his palms, cheeks being squished up to his eyes and mouth falling open.

It was quiet for a while, the only noise made coming from the speakers spread across the shop playing the latest hits at a pleasant volume. The pleasant silence lasted for no more than a couple of seconds.

“Sometimes…” Woooyoung started, the words hard to understand, “I don’t even know whether I want to find the person because they are supposedly my other half or just to be free from the memories once and for all.”

“I can’t speak for everyone, but it gets better. We are not supposed to piece everything together just from a few memories. They are here to guide us if we want to be otherwise fate will run its course and do it for us whether we want to or not.”

“...I hate when you are right, you do know that.”

Yeosang tilted his head, brown eyes peeking through his fringe, and slipped the tip of his tongue out in a teasing manner. Despite having a face sculpted by Praxiteles himself and a body perfect for figure drawing classes. A round nose, full lips, hooded bambi eyes and a single pink geranium blooming on his left cheekbone. Yeosang was actually a natural brunette, but recently started matching hair with his lover, hence the cherry red on his head.

Hadn’t Wooyoung and Yeosang already been destined to be with other people or if Yeosang’s partner wasn’t the sweet and loving bear that he was, Wooyoung would definitely defy the stars to be with his best friend. If not romantically then platonically. 

“Weren’t you supposed to pick up the daisies ten minutes ago?”

“Crap!”

Wooyoung quickly untied his apron and threw it on the counter as he rounded it, heading toward the staff room. Unlike Yeosang, he wore a black t-shirt and dark blue pants. The overall was replaced by a grey cardigan and the slippers (stolen from his grandma years ago) with a pair of chunky boots. He grabbed his leather bag, seemingly big enough to fit his entire life and a little more, and slung it over his shoulder while simultaneously fishing out the car keys from the front pocket of his jeans.

All of his ten fingers were adorned with different rings, each bigger than the other, and earrings dangling from both of his lobes. A silver chain bracelet hung loosely on his wrist, but not loose enough to slip off. At least he could be late in style.

The bell rattled violently after him, but Wooyoung was too occupied with not having the door slam against the foundation of the building and shatter the glass to care about the jingle scarring Yeosang’s ears. Five steps was all he managed to get in before his attention was directed elsewhere. 

A moving truck was parked on the opposite side of the street, obscuring his view of the abandoned shop. In all his years of working at UTOPIA, the space across from them had been everything from a coffee shop, bakery and laundromat to a hair salon, second-hand boutique and diner. Basically anything and everything one could name under the sun. The businesses never lasted more than a few months. It had been quite some time since someone tried their chances with the cursed space.

They would have to pay them a visit later, Wooyoung thought and got inside his car. If he wasn’t already running late, he’d stop by and stick his head in through the door. Mainly to get a whiff of who and what was opening on the other side. 

Would they be friends or rivals?

It wouldn’t be the smartest to open another flower shop in such a short vicinity of each other, but hey, it hadn’t stopped people before.

As curiosity got the best of him, Wooyoung sent a quick text to Yeosang asking him to keep an eye out on their supposedly new neighbours. A thumbs up icon circled the corner of his message. It was enough of an answer for him to slide the phone into the cup holder and change the stick into first gear.

The pleasant smell of soft tofu stew filled the two bedroom apartment as Wooyoung stirred it on the stove, humming along to the smooth and soulful music coming from his computer. Despite being too tired to cook anything more demanding, he managed to move along to the melodies without creating a hazard in the kitchen. Eventually, he found himself wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on the settee, feet propped on the small coffee table in his equally small balcony and a steaming bowl of stew in his lap.

The drive home from work was nothing out of the usual. It brought him the peace and quiet he craved after a long day of socializing with customers and plants. The image of the sun slowly sinking closer to the horizon, painting the city in a golden hue, had him winding down the window. The breeze kissed his skin and fluttered against the baby strands of his multi-colored hair. 

It was enough reason for Wooyoung to immediately start cleaning the balcony and remove the plastic wrap from the furniture. A few candles here, a house plant or two there and some fairy lights hanging across the railing or ceiling would make it the ultimate hang out spot. Lucky for him, it could fit just about three, maybe four, people. The perfect space for his little friend group.

Instead, the flower shop became their getaway place. Yeosang’s boyfriend would pop up every now and then with the excuse of being in the neighbourhood just to leave coffee or eat dinner with the florists. Mingi, their mutual friend, never needed any reason to stop by. He’d come unannounced, unexpected and unprompted. 

Wooyoung loved them unconditionally. They were more than his friends. They were practically family. 

A warmth grew in the middle of his chest and spread out along his veins, leaving a comfortable heat throughout his body. 

The feeling lingered as he admired the view. Swirls of orange and blue blended on the bare canvas, the colors seeping into each other and resembling the horizon where the sea met the sky. The extreme light pollution robbed the inhabitants of Seoul from star gazing. Almost every night, Wooyoung pictured the twinkling specks scattered across the dark tarp and hoped to see the constellations outside of his imagination.

Somewhere in the far back of his mind, a feeling akin to nostalgia or familiarity bounced wild, but whenever Wooyoung reached for it the invisible ball evaded his advances. He didn’t understand what was so familiar about the stars and the galaxy.

He sighed and scooped up a bit of the broth, gently blowing on it. The spoon managed to just about graze the bottom of his lip when the world became quiet.

“The stars are envious of your beauty.”

A bashful laugh echoed through the still night, a gentle breeze swished between the tall grass and the moon cast a pale light on the earth. In the middle of a meadow surrounded by a never ending forest lay two people. Their bodies flat against the grass, noses pointed to the stars and fingers twitching to elope around each other. 

One of the young men kept his gaze on the abyss of darkness, eyes crinkled and lips pressed shut to keep the corners from curving upwards. Warmth pooled beneath the skin of his cheeks and the vibrant color challenged the spider lilies blooming all across the country. 

The heavy weight of a stare burned into the side of his face as if calling for his attention, yet the man refused to give in. A coldness brushed against his pinky, successfully averting his eyes from the twinkling sky and found a warm look on the other boy’s face. He was of a more bulkier stature with wide shoulders covered in a silky hanbok, reflecting the gold in his pockets. 

“...I am envious…” he started, voice no louder than a whisper, “of everyone spending numerous hours in your presence and I have become… bitter it is not I who am allowed to bask in your company.”

The words were loud and heavy, etching their way in the heart of the receiver and carved themself a hole in the beating organ. The only witness to the heartfelt confession being the moon with the vow of keeping her silence, because she too knew the devastation of only seeing her lover for a brief moment in passing.

“Fuck!” 

Wooyoung jostled in place, the motion swooshing the broth and almost spilling all over himself. He slapped a hand over his mouth, drew his bottom lip between his teeth and lapped at the burn. It did nothing to soothe the pulsing sensation. He didn’t even manage to process the memory before the face of the other man became a blur, leaving him with the feeling of a longing.

He could recognize his own reflection even with both eyes gauged out. What irked him beyond his own control was the unknown identity of the other man. It was infuriating. How could he see the features so clearly, but forget them in a matter of seconds?

Wooyoung lowered the bowl on the coffee table and slumped back in his seat. Anyone he talked with about the images recalled cute and wholesome memories of their past selves. A bitter tang had Wooyoung scrunch his nose in distaste. 

Why did his visions leave him with a hollow stomach and heaviness beneath his eyes?

They were supposed to make him yearn for his other half, not wallow in sadness and envy. 

“Curse you, soulmate…”

 He couldn't decide what was worse. Not remembering the face of your supposed other half or being fated with a heartbroken past.  

The remainder of his dinner was abandoned on the balcony as the hunger dissolved into anxiety. Wooyoung called it a day and took refuge in the safety of his bedroom, surrounded by a plethora of pillows and his comfort tv-series that did little to keep his thoughts at bay. 

If Wooyoung thought his afternoon was ruined then he wasn’t ready for what morning had in store for him. First, he snoozed through each and every one of his alarms making him reach the store within a few minutes after opening hours. Then he dropped, not one, but two brand new vases giving everyone a nice scare and himself more work before his lunch break.

Wooyoung nearly dropped down to his knees at the sight of Yeosang coming through the backdoor, a bag of donuts in his right hand and coffee in the other. It was a blessing Wooyoung had been praying for the entire first half of his shift. The moment the cold brew hit his taste buds all of his issues seemed to disappear. 

“Dude, I didn’t know people were moving into the cursed place across from you!” 

The bells above the door rattled to life as a lamppost of a man walked through. Beige cargo pants hung on him and almost grazed the ground with his every step. The oversized white tee reached the beginning of his thighs, making him appear smaller than he actually was, and the moss green cardigan draped over his left shoulder had no other purpose than to enrich the outfit. A pair of square glasses framed his eyes that he pushed to the top of his head, simultaneously pulling back his fringe.

The young man rustled the shop with his carelessness, completely oblivious to his surroundings. One sharp look from Wooyoung had him sheepishly bowing to the customers, a pink hue glowing on his cheeks and quiet apologies tumbling out of his mouth. He reached the counter in three quick strides.

“You can’t come in barging like that!” Wooyoung hissed, the words falling just beneath his breath as he looked up at the towering man. “It’s the third time this week, Mingi…”

“I know! And I promise, I was planning on walking in all calm and quiet, but then I saw a bunch of guys standing outside the poisoned den and it completely slipped my mind!”

“Dammit, Yeosang was supposed to keep an eye on them, but he hasn’t said anything.”

“So it’s true? You are getting new neighbours again?” Mingi chuckled, his canines peeking through the toothy-smile. “How long are you betting they will last until it ends in flames?”

Wooyoung reached over the counter and swatted Mingi on the shoulder. “Be a bit quieter, would you? And I don’t know, I guess it depends on what their business is.”

“I don’t think they are selling anything.” 

Both Wooyoung and Mingi flinched, a choked shriek leaving the shorter one as he turned around. Yeosang emerged from the staff room carrying a package of nutrient spray for orchids, a yellow tee a stark contrast to the apron and his red curls. 

“Yah,” Wooyoung started, “why haven’t you told me anything?”

The man shrugged and set the sprays on the empty space of the counter. “You didn’t ask anything when I gave you the coffee so I thought you forgot.”

“I was stressed! Big difference!”

Mingi clapped his hands as a squeaking laughter filled the store amidst Wooyoung and Yeosang’s harmless bickering. 

“Ah, this is such a comedy.”

The speed of which Wooyoung turned around at would’ve been concerning if it wasn’t an everyday occurrence. 

“You just keep laughing and I’ll tell mom all the flowers you sent her were for free and technically come from me.”

Mingi stuck his tongue out, but jumped back as Wooyoung reached over the counter and nearly snagged the wet muscle between his fingers. 

“Eeeeeek!”

“That’s what I thought…”

“I think they run a service-based business,” Yeosang said as he tore the package and started stacking the bottles on the shelf behind the counter, completely indifferent to their behaviour.

“...Like a massage parlor?” 

Mingi whistled, “If those guys are doing massages then we have to go.”

“Put some respect on masseuses and masseurs, would you? They put up with a lot of nasty shit on an everyday basis,” Wooyoung remarked and puckered his lips into a frown.

“They could be…” Yeosang agreed. “I saw them carrying in those tables you lie on, but the machines didn’t look like they were… fit for massages.”

A sparkle of mischief fired in Mingi’s eyes. “That’s it! We are going over there to introduce ourselves!” 

“We? Mingi you don’t–” 

Wooyoung’s voice died in his throat as he noticed a woman approach the cashier register with a bundle of orange and yellow tulips. He made a discreet waving motion with his hand which Mingi registered immediately and nonchalantly stepped away, even going the lengths to fake interest in one of the many accessories hanging up front.

“Those are beautiful, ma’am. You have chosen an excellent choice.”

“Ah, thank you. I was hoping to lighten up the living room with some more color and invite the spring. It has become quite a drag with the cold weather.”

Wooyoung chuckled and rang up the sum. “I agree. We hope this beautiful bouquet will hurry the spring over.”

The lady hovered her card over the machine and patiently awaited the confirming sound before returning it in her wallet. She gently grabbed her flowers and bid them a pleasant evening.

“So… About that visit next door,” Mingi chimed up again as she left the store and looked pointedly at Wooyoung. “Weren’t you the one complaining about your back hurting?”

“Yah, you don’t even work here, you’re just… here all the time! What would they need your name for?” Wooyoung crushed the receipt onto a ball and threw it in the bin beneath the counter.

“Don’t say it as if you don’t like my company. Besides, it’s important they know who I am in case of emergencies.”

“Emergencies like?” Yeosang questioned, the cheerful tilt to his voice masking the sarcasm in his words.

“Like the world is going under and they need some place to take shelter.”

Wooyoung snorted as Yeosang chuckled himself, hiding his face behind his palm. 

“Go take a walk, Mingi-ya.”

“He’ll go straight across the street.”

Cackles and giggles erupted among the shop as the pair couldn’t keep their composure. It all ended with Mingi leaving, feigning hurt and threatening to never come back again. Yeosang, whose break was just about to start, rushed after him with the promise of treating him to ice cream.

“Mingi-ya, wait up~”

“Bring a jacket! It’s chilly outside and you’ll get sick!” Wooyoung reprimanded the red head, but it was to no avail.

“It’s just a quick walk!”

Wooyoung watched the pair walk in the direction of the ice cream parlour, Yeosang looping his arm through Mingi’s. The view brought a content smile to his face. He wasn’t worried about Mingi’s tantrum, they had spent far too many years together to know when someone was really hurt or had crossed a line. This was Mingi just being a big cry baby.

A black car suddenly stopped a little further down the street. Intrigued and quite curious, Wooyoung rounded the counter and inched closer to the windows, but not too close. The last thing he wanted was to be caught sneaking glances at strangers.

It was a 2008 Honda Accord and the only reason he recognized it was because his dad owned one. At least from back when Wooyoung was still in touch with his family, maybe they sold it and bought another. He shook the thoughts away and watched as the driver neatly parallel parked into a free spot. A group of guys stepped out, the one sitting in the back reaching for the trunk while the remaining two headed toward the entrance.

The first to catch his attention was the driver and also the one leading the way.

He was a white dot on an entirely black canvas. Small stature, but had the biggest presence out of the entire group. His messy strands looked like a bush of magenta hyacinths growing wild. From what Wooyoung could see, he had a pretty face. A sharp bridge leading to a pointy nose, plum pink lips that curled up in a flashy smile at something one of his friends said and a prominent jawline. A mix of black and red smudged his cat-shaped eyes that matched well with his hair. 

He even moved in a certain way, just drawing everyone to himself with a sway of his hips that belonged on a runway. The clothes he wore had no correlation to each other in both color or pattern, but he made everything good. 

The moss green turtleneck clung to his very skin, accentuating his chest and biceps. An interesting detail of purple was sown on his right peck and looked something akin to a flower, but Wooyoung wasn’t sure. It covered a good chunk of the shirt and was a stark contrast to the ugly green. The grey suit pants weren’t any looser, but flared out at the ends. He wore a pair of glossy black boots that probably click-clacked with every move.

Wooyoung averted his gaze to the next guy who was now standing awfully close to the driver, deliciously towering over him too. Hadn’t anyone paid them close attention, like Wooyoung, they would’ve missed the way his hand barely grazed the driver’s lower back. An intimate gesture reserved for bonds that weren’t platonic in the slightest.

The man belonged in a museum and Wooyoung wasn’t even exaggerating. He had thick and angled brows that mirrored his black hair. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes and rested on his long and elegant nose. He had all the features models would kill for. High and prominent cheekbones, wide plush lips with a vivid cupid’s bow, chiseled jawline and squared chin. The hair tickled his chin, long enough to be tied back in a pig’s tail. Staring at this man was like admiring one of the many paintings in the Louvre.

The bottoms were a pair of black trousers with wide pantlegs and appeared as a skirt. A matching turtleneck stuck to his body, showing the slender physique beneath. There were no sleeves, giving everyone a nice view of the dark swirls on his tanned skin, starting from his right hand up to his shoulder. He surely wasn’t the first person walking around with tattoos in the country, but it didn’t mean the stares were fewer. 

Wooyoung was unable to look away from the artwork and although he couldn’t make out the details, he just knew the tattoo was beautiful.

A loud thump tore his eyes from the living statue and toward the back of the car. The last guy of the trio stood facing away from Wooyoung. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, thick biceps and strong thighs were the few details Wooyoung had to work with and they told him more than enough. The man was stunning, handsome, fine and any other synonym that could be used to describe his existence. 

The cobalt shirt stuck to him like a second skin, the muscles in his back and around his arms flexing with minor movements. He raised his left arm, taking hold of the trunk and pulling it down, showcasing the white watch around his wrist. A stark contrast to his golden skin. 

Heat crawled up Woyooung’s throat as he caught the shirt stretch even more. But it wasn’t just his body that made Wooyoung’s heart beat a tad bit faster or cheeks flush pink. He blamed the inked flowers blooming from his forearm and disappearing beneath the sleeve of his tee.

 The handsome guy grabbed a gym bag out of the car and closed the trunk again. As he circled the vehicle, Wooyoung caught a glimpse of his face. Sharp eyes resembling a wildcat, straight brows, high cheekbones, lips pulled in a firm line and chiseled jawline were features forever engraved in Wooyoung’s mind. They were familiar in an uncanny way, because he could swear to everything supernatural that he had never seen this man before. 

Wooyoung couldn’t put words to the feeling drumming in his chest. The same weird feeling when a word rests at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t remember what it’s called. The time your heart remembers, but the brain forgets. 

A tingle spread across Wooyoung’s neck and his body acted on its own, jumping behind the rack holding several flowers that swallowed him whole, just in time as the man glanced toward the shop. He snapped out of his thoughts as the bell above the door came to life for the hundredth time that day and his heart roared in his ears.

Did he enter?

Did he see Wooyoung lurking?

The gargle of coffee and bagels was already crawling their way back up his throat, and his tongue salivated. Oh, he was going to be sick. A thousand different explanations swirled through his head, trying to come up with the most plausible one. It wasn’t like he could say the truth, even if there wasn’t anything wrong with looking, admiring even! Wooyoung would need at least a shot or three to admit he was caught off guard by the stranger’s beauty.

“Woo?” 

A long breath escaped his mouth in a pant. His chest deflated in relief and he nearly toppled backwards over the adjustable wall of flowers. He placed a hand over his heart in a futile attempt to calm it down, but the adrenaline wasn’t just done coursing through his veins. He would feel the aftermath in a few, that Wooyoung was sure of.

“Thank fuck it’s you.”

Yeosang stood a bit from the entrance with a cup of ice cream in hand. his expression monotone if it weren't for the pinch between his brows. 

“My break is over.” 

He didn’t budge from his spot, taking in the erratic state of his friend and co-worker. Wooyoung didn’t want to imagine how crazy he must have looked. Shop empty and nothing out of place with the owner hiding behind flowers completely breathless as if having run a marathon. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang had seen various sides of each other throughout their long friendship. They witnessed all the awkward stages of puberty and then the challenging change into adulthood. Despite the fact they could fart in front of each other without batting an eye, the embarrassment that came with not having found his soulmate stuck its claws into Wooyoung’s neck and there were moments he’d rather not talk about it with anyone.

Yeosang wasn’t the guy to point his finger and laugh in someone else’s face, let alone his best friend’s. That was more Wooyoung’s style (he meant no harm). Knowing this made no difference to the internal battle between doubt and logic. He could explain everything and the red head would just nod in understanding, ask relevant questions and try to be as helpful as possible, despite being as clueless (if not more) about the entire soulmate phenomenon. 

 “Here, Mingi bought you ice cream.”

Wooyoung did one slow blink, then two rapid. Being so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice Yeosang step closer, now an arms length away. Wooyoung was handed the paper cup, which took him a second or two to register. He peered into it and a soft smile stretched across his face. 

Chocolate mint ice cream. His favorite.

A series of consistent knocks echoed through Wooyoung’s apartment, startling him in the middle of preparing dinner. The banging didn’t let up and the instigator even opted for using the doorbell. Wooyoung put his hands under running water and wiped them against the rag sticking out from his pocket.

“Calm down you lunatic,” he said to no one in particular and headed toward the door. 

Out of all the people in the world, Wooyoung didn’t expect to see Mingi through the peep hole. The knocking turned impatient and stronger to the point Wooyoung thought he would break through the door. The moment he unlocked it, Mingi came barreling through, not giving him a chance to get a word out.

“Quick, quick! What do these mean?!” 

Mingi threw a beautiful white bouquet in Wooyoung’s face. He caught the flowers and backed into the apartment again with Mingi hot on his tail, both of them almost stumbling over the array of shoes splayed in the entrance.

“Mingi-ya, what the–”

“Hurry, hurry!”

Having had enough of the chase, Wooyoung sternly put his foot down and Mingi narrowly avoided walking into the shorter man.

“What the hell is this?!” Wooyoung carelessly waved the bouquet around which had Mingi throw his hands out, ready to save the poor flowers.

“Flowers…?”

“Yah, I can see that! Are you cheating on us?” 

Mingi’s arms dropped to his sides. His eyes squinted and mouth was left open as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Ch– Cheating?” 

“Buying flowers from someone else’s shop, really?” Wooyoung whistled as he inspected the bundle closer. “That’s another level of low.”

“I didn’t buy them?! They were on my door step!”

“Tch, so your secret admirer isn’t just a wuss, but has bad taste too.” 

“Will you tell me what they mean or do I need to do my own research?” Mingi reached for the flowers again, but Wooyoung twisted away from the man. 

“Ah, ah, ah. No take backs… Let me see.” Wooyoung paused before pointing to the woodland peonies. “Bashfulness. Shyness. Compassion.” 

Mingi’s eyes followed Wooyoung’s movements intently. He brushed the yellow and orange daisies so they bobbed lightly, but not hard enough to end up in disarray. “These mean joy, sunshine and happiness. And these?” He gestured toward the lilacs. “First emotions of love.”

He tilted his head, studying the arrangement again before looking back up with a small, knowing smile. The darkness in Mingi’s gaze was full of wonder and astonishment, probably trying to piece everything together. Slowly, his brows drew together and he met Wooyoung’s eyes.

“...Okay, so… What does this mean? Together, I mean.”

“It’s basically saying; you make me happy, being around you feels like sunshine… and I think I’m starting to fall in love with you, but I’m too shy to just say it…Which is honestly adorable.”

He handed the flowers back to their rightful owner and nearly choked on his own laughter as Mingi dissected each and every head, searching for some secret hiding beneath the petals and stems. Maybe a hidden card or detail that would tell him more about the meaning behind them. 

“The real question is…” Wooyoung leaned forward a little. “Who gave them to you?”

The fussing around the flowers came to an abrupt halt which raised further curiosity. Wooyoung watched the other open and close his mouth, unable to find the correct words. All teasing remarks resting on Wooyoung’s tongue evaporated into thin air as Mingi’s cheeks resembled abnormally big cherries. The tall man shied away from Wooyoung’s curious eyes. 

Wooyoung had never seen Mingi so flustered to the point of being driven speechless, and he felt an inkling of guilt over pushing for an answer. The hollowness disappeared as Mingi caught his bottom lip between his teeth, seemingly trying to keep a smile at bay.

“Mingi-ya~ Are you seeing someone?”

The smile wiped clean off his face. Mingi spluttered and choked on his own words, unable to form a coherent sentence. “They’re from my neighbour!”

“Your neighbour got you flowers?”

“Well, I think so. I found them outside my front door–”

“And you just assume they’re from your neighbour?”

“Who else has access to our apartment building? It has to be him.”

Wooyoung sucked on his bottom lip and furrowed his brows in thought. “Has he… done anything to make you think it’s him?”

“We… kind of went out a few nights ago. Just to the 7-Eleven down the street.”

A horrific gasp filled the apartment and Wooyoung slapped a hand over his chest, right where his heart should be. “You went on a date?!”

“It wasn’t a date!”

“Who went on a date?” Yeosang asked as he rounded the corner, coming from the bathroom and peered over Mingi’s shoulder, his straight brows flying up to his hairline and mouth forming into an ‘O’. “Oh, nice arrangement. Did you visit Utopia?”

Wooyoung made a ‘pshh’ sound, catching everyone’s attention. “They’re apparently from his neighbour-slash-date! Can you believe it, Sangie? Mingi went on a date and didn’t tell us!”

“Still not a date!”

“With Yunho?”

Mingi turned around which gave both him and Wooyoung a better view of Yeosang. The duo stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

“You’ve seen him?!” Wooyoung’s screech overpowered Mingi’s. “You’ve talked to him?!”

“Yes,” Yeosang answered calmly. “He’s tall, handsome, kind. Dresses well too. He held the door for Jongho and me when we were carrying takeout. You know, when Mingi was hosting movie night. He asked if we lived there or were just visiting, so I told him we were headed to the eighth floor. Apparently that’s his floor too.”

“And you didn’t tell us a potential hottie was living right across from Mingi?!”

“No one asked.”

Wooyoung groaned and slumped backwards over the armsrest of his sofa, legs dangling over the edge. He dragged his hands over his face while Mingi was left standing there gaping like a fish. The group used the silent moment to gather themselves. Yeosang shuffled to the kitchen area and produced a vase from one of Wooyoung’s many cupboards. 

“Okay, screw that,” Wooyoung declared and sat up on his forearms. “This man confessed to you through flowers. What’s the next step?”

“The next step?” 

Mingi faced Wooyoung again. He was standing awkwardly, his shoulders slumped and his upper body curving inward like a C. One of his brows was slightly raised, his eyes glossy with uncertainty. Wooyoung was going to sell the entire shop and buy himself a oneway ticket out of South Korea, because that was a lot easier than dealing with his friends’ love life.

“Yes, Mingi, the next step. Are you going to do anything about the flowers? Ask if they are from him or just pretend like nothing happened?”

“I–I didn’t think about there being a next step.”

“I think you should go for it,” Yeosang said as he returned with the vase and gently pried the arrangement from Mingi’s hands. He placed it in the middle of Wooyoung’s coffee table. “What do you have to lose?”

Right. Unlike most people in the world, Mingi had no soulmate. He wasn’t tormented with images of his past life. Instead, he was blessed with the possibility to find his own other half, no invisible red string pulling him in certain directions. 

Wooyoung mentally scolded himself for his thoughts. There were downsides to both scenarios and while Wooyoung had it though, Mingi had it worse. Not only was he exposed to the judgemental stares of society, but he was also the only one in their close vicinity to be without a soulmate. The whole ordeal put him under a lot of pressure from both his family and society. No one wanted to be associated with an abnormal person after all. 

“I should go for it, right?” Mingi searched for reassurement and plopped down beside Wooyoung, who shuffled closer and rested his head atop Mingi's thigh. “But what if he has a soulmate and accidentally sent the flowers to me? Or what if his soulmate sent him flowers, but they were delivered to me instead? That would be so embarrassing…” 

Wooyoung and Yeosang shared a brief glance, amusement etched across their features.

“Mingi, I really don’t believe someone with a soulmate would walk you to a seven-eleven in the middle of the night. And if they would, then he’s a piece of shit and the only one feeling embarrassing should be him.”

“I agree with Woo here. We can fix an arrangement of flowers tomorrow at the shop that isn't so… super romantic and can just be you returning a favor if it turns out that he’s occupied,” Yeosang proposed, leaning back against the kitchen island. He rested both hands on its surface, legs crossed as his backside pressed to the counter, making his chest puff out.

Mingi contemplated the options for a hot minute then bobbed his head.

“That settles it!” Wooyoung clasped his hands together in hopes of easing the growing tension in the living room. “Less talking about boys and more figuring out what to do now that you guys are here.”

His guests came up with nothing and Wooyoung had to keep himself from rolling his eyes to the back of his mind. 

“Great ideas, guys. How about we order takeout and watch a movie or something?” 

“So… basically a normal everyday hangout?”

Wooyoung rose slightly from his seat and twisted around, his multicolored hair a complete mess, and gave Mingi a dirty look. “Oh, I’m sorry, your royal highness. I didn’t hear you come up with any better ideas.”

Before Mingi could come up with a retort, he was interrupted by an excited Yeosang asking if they could order fried chicken.

“Only if you make the call and meet the delivery guy down by the entrance!” Wooyoung exclaimed, stretching his arms and legs out like a cat.

“Okay!” 

Yeosang scrambled to get his phone and ventured to Wooyoung’s room for some peace and quiet.

Mingi’s hand landed softly on Wooyoung’s head, fingers threading through his hair. “Your roots are showing.”

“I know! I need to get it done, but we made such a big mess last time with Yeosang’s hair which I’m not so eager to clean up again.”

“I’m pretty sure the alcohol is to blame for that. It’s a miracle we only ruined our clothes and didn’t get dye in our eyes or something. I can’t recall anything from that night.”

“The food will be here in a couple of minutes!” Yeosang announced, followed by the bathroom door being locked.

Shouts of affirmation erupted from the living room. 

Wooyoung chuckled as he recalled that random Tuesday evening. 

Mingi, at the time, had passed an exam he failed a couple of times before and Yeosang had just gotten his driver’s license that same day, so they obviously needed to celebrate. Wooyoung took it upon himself to book a reservation at a pricey restaurant. Turns out he accidentally messed up the dates and their reservation wasn’t set for another month. Having nowhere to go and nothing to do, the trio ended up cramped in Wooyoung’s apartment, just like now, surrounded by multiple bottles of soju they had never tried before and Chinese takeout.

The night was going well, until they were down to their last bottles of alcohol. Wooyoung could barely get out a word between his giggles and anytime Mingi tried standing up, he fell flat on his ass. The real chaos started when Yeosang found a box of red hair dye and came up with the excellent idea of playing hairdresser. Thus, red haired Yeosang was born and Wooyoung’s apartment looked like a slaughter house for the next couple of days.

“We should definitely do it again,” Wooyoung said. “But hide anything we can use as hair dye. I had to throw out all of my towels and let me tell you, that shit is expensive.”

The intercom buzzed through the apartment, but they ignored it, thinking Yeosang would get it. But he didn’t and neither Wooyoung nor Mingi showed any indication of getting up. Another series of the static-like noise interrupted the silence.

“Yah, Yeosang! The door!”

“Is he pooping or what?” Mingi asked and placed his arm on the back of the sofa. 

“Ah, c’mon, man.” 

Wooyoung hauled himself off his comfortable spot and nearly bumped his knee on the coffee table in the process, but narrowly avoided it. He glanced down the hallway and grew even more annoyed at the sound of the tap running. Yeosang was clearly taking his sweet time, probably doing it on purpose too. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Jeez.” He pressed the button activating the speakers. “Jung residency.”

“Hello, delivery for Kang Yeosang from Bok Chicken!”

“Ah, of course! Please use the elevator to the third floor.” He met Mingi’s gaze from across the living room, his phone in his hands and a video of some sort playing. “He did this on purpose.”

“What? Timed his shit to avoid opening the door?”

“Exactly.”

Mingi laughed while Wooyoung accepted the food, paid for it and tipped the delivery guy.

“Get some plates, would ya?”

The brunette did as he was told, grabbing three sets of plates, utensils and glasses. Instead of making multiple trips, he somehow managed to balance everything in both of his hands. Mingi was lucky Wooyoung was too occupied with clearing the table free of the random interior trinkets, otherwise, he would’ve been scolded before the idea was even set in motion.

“Where should we put the flowers?” Wooyoung asked, reaching across the table and childishly tapping one of the woodland peonies with his finger.

The two young men were walking side by side, arms crossed behind their backs with enough room for a third person to squeeze between them. Woods of the unnamed land surrounded them yet again and the eyes of the wild animals traced their moving figures, but no fingers were pointed at their unchaperoned walk.

“And these?” The taller one with a slightly wider build and blood red hanbok asked as he gestured to a bush of wild flowers. 

Wooyoung hummed. His blue hanbok shifted as he crouched and gently caressed one of the many leaves. “This would be a woodland peony, Your Royal Majesty.”

A grunt of displeasure emitted from the man. “I did not quite hear that. Would you be so kind as to repeat yourself?”

“I– Uh…” 

The spring breeze had nothing on the warmth spreading through his body, starting from the tip of his toes reaching all the way up to the golden hue of his cheeks. Wooyoung was currently facing a double edged sword, but it seemed whichever path he ventured, his actions could be used against him.

“It is a… They are…” 

The other man possessed a calmness Wooyoung could not only long for, but appreciate as it steadied the spike of his heart.

“They are woodland peonies… San.”

The prince remained quiet. He shifted his hands behind his back as his small lips pursed in a gentle smile. 

“Is something the matter, Your Hig– Uh, San?”

“Mm, no. It is just wonderful.”

“Could you elaborate?”

He hummed and faced Wooyoung. “Hear you say my name. You have a beautiful voice.”

Wooyoung quickly cast his gaze elsewhere, unable to look the man in the eyes. His voice wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It was deep, a bit rough and– oh, God forbid he laughed, that would surely change San’s mind.

“You are the most beautiful man to walk this land.” San slipped a finger beneath Wooyoung’s chin, lifting it as gently as a summer breeze. “I believe even the flowers must envy you,” he murmured.

Despite being rooted to the ground, unable to move unless the wind kissed his body, Wooyoung still managed to muster up a reply. One that would’ve earned him a smack to the back of his head in the safety of his own home.

“If they envy me, it is because I hog all of your attention, Your Royal Highness.”

San chuckled. The small smile stretching into a toothy one with dimples on display. His thumb ghosted over Wooyoung’s bottom lip, eyes jumping back and forth. 

“So you say it is my fault?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Then perhaps the fault is mine. From childhood, I was taught that flowers are to be admired from afar, never touched nor plucked… Yet even the prince of Joseon succumbs, at times, to quiet misdeeds.”

“Your Royal Highness, even a plucked flower may continue to blossom, so long as it is tended to with care and properly nurtured.”

Wooyoung startled out of the memory. 

He was no longer surrounded by the beautiful scenery of nature, but sitting on the floor of his living room. 

The freeing feeling of the sun kissing his skin and the air swooshing around him in a gentle caress was replaced by pristine white walls and beige interior. The temperature suddenly dropped and so did the glee that came with the vision. The other man, red and gold adorning his body, was nowhere to be seen. It was like waking up from a wonderful dream where Wooyoung had everything he could ever wish for, only for it to disappear into a haze and reality settle in. 

“Woo?” 

Someone reached out, their hand barely brushing Wooyoung’s shoulder, but he flinched as if being burned and the hand jerked away. It was just Mingi.

“Are you okay?”

Wooyoung’s lips parted, then closed again. The dryness in his throat made it hard to speak. He gathered what little energy he had left and forced a smile while trying to process what he’d just seen. His dimples appeared, hopefully disguising the lack of creases around his eyes.

“Yeah– Uh, yeah! Of course.” His gaze drifted to Yeosang crouching on the other side, squeezed between the sofa and the table. “Oh, Yeosang, you’re here! Come on, let’s eat, let’s eat!”

Wooyoung started unpacking the boxes and soda cans from the plastic bag. He didn’t care how weird he appeared to them. As long as he acted normal and didn’t give them an opening to ask more questions, everything would be okay. 

He prepared the first plate that was handed to Yeosang, adding extra chicken drumsticks to it.

His name is San. His name is San. His name is San.

Mingi’s plate was even worse, a mountain of chicken wings and five ketchup packs squeezed out in a spot on the outer side.

Mountain. Mountain. Mountain. 

The tremor in his hands was evident as he poured their drinks, though it could easily be brushed off as the side effects of too many iced coffees.

Namsan. Hallasan. Jirisan. 

For the first time in a while, Wooyoung decided on walking to work instead of taking his car. The birds were chirping long before he rose from his slumber and the sun warmed the streets of Seoul as early as half past six in the morning. It was a measly fifteen minute walk. Not far to be considered tiring, but enough for Wooyoung to clear his mind before clocking in and preaching about why tulips and roses aren’t compatible in an arrangement.

Besides, he needed the extra alone time since his latest vision. It was the first memory that gave Wooyoung a clue of who his soulmate was. 

San. 

The name of a person expected to be strong and steady as a mountain. A person others can lean on during tough times. Perhaps it’s someone who doesn’t break under pressure. Someone with an endurance big enough to carry other’s burdens and hardships alongside their own. 

A quick glance on his browsing history would have his middle school historian teacher turning in her grave. There was no royal going by the name San. At least there were no records of it and the pictures didn’t help in the slightest. Wooyoung didn’t really remember what his soulmate looked like and even if he did, the historical drawings didn’t light a spark of recognition. The stack of historical books would need to be returned as soon as possible, preferably before Yeosang or Mingi caught sight of it and started asking questions. On the other hand, that sounded like a problem for future Wooyoung to figure out.

He passed the flower shop and turned into the alleyway leading to the back entrance. It was a real nightmare during autumn and winter. Wooyoung could count on his fingers and toes the number of times a rat or stray cat had leapt from the shadows and nearly scared him out of his skin. It felt safer with the sun guiding him to and from work. 

The alarm went off the moment he unlocked the door, but he quickly shut it down. Passing through the small storage room, Wooyoung flicked the three switches, letting light spill into the shop out front. He moved on autopilot. Undoing the zipper of his jacket as he walked across the main floor, pressing a random button on the computer so it would start up while he took off his outerwear and bag. His phone connected automatically to the speakers and he hit shuffle on the playlist he’d made specifically for working hours.

The phone was pocketed in his pants. Wooyoung decided to wear all dark colors today. A black t-shirt, dark grey bottoms that were on the brink of being too baggy, black converse and multiple chunky rings adorning each finger. On a first glance, anyone would believe Wooyoung was in the wrong place. If only they would stop judging based on other’s choice of clothing.

A pop song played from the speaker and Wooyoung couldn’t help but hum along too as he prepared for opening. He changed the water in most of the buckets and filled those that seemed a bit empty with even more flowers. 

The morning shift was always more relaxing than closing. He could walk around and get everything ready in peace without worrying about a customer roaming the place. There was nothing worse than someone walking in three minutes before closing asking for a bouquet because their cousin’s sister’s teacher’s dog was getting married the next morning.

With the clock a few minutes away from striking ten, Wooyoung grabbed a wet sponge and a carton of chalk and headed for the chalkboard sign. He gently wiped away yesterday’s writing and waited for the surface to dry. Then he picked up a piece of white chalk and wrote ‘FRESH flowers INSIDE’.

Beneath the words he drew a silly bouquet of colorful roses, baby’s breath, and green leaves protruding from a vase. Wooyoung was great with flowers and could arrange the prettiest bouquets, but that didn’t mean he was particularly in tune with his artistic side. He just had an eye for what colors went great together. It would have to do though. 

He patted his hands against his thighs making dust fly everywhere and white handprints on the apron. It was show time. Wooyoung pushed the door open until it clicked into place and allowed him to step out with the board. He placed it a bit away from the entrance, but not in the middle of the sidewalk. The last thing the shop needed was being taken to court for their carelessness.

“Good morning, neighbour!”

A sound between a squeal and a shriek burst out of Wooyoung as he whipped around, eyes wide and mouth open, and no words coming out. The culprit probably hadn’t expected to be greeted with flailing hands, a Wooyoung ready to fight for his life and the old candy wrapper forgotten in his pockets. It took him a few seconds to realize the person before him wasn’t a threat at all, but the pink-headed man from across the street. The only difference was that his hair was no longer raspberry pink, but a bush of marigolds.

Embarrassment clung to Wooyoung’s cheeks and all the fight left his body like air from a balloon.

“Man! I– You– Uh! Why would you sneak up on me?!”

Wooyoung didn’t mean to scream at his new neighbour, but he didn’t know how else to react. The other man, about his height, didn’t seem to take offence at the sudden outburst. Surprise flickered across his face before it softened into a smile that could melt butter. The entire man looked softer, like a summer sunrise. He even dressed differently from the last time Wooyoung saw him. More elegant and not a crazy palette of mismatched colors.

The denim clung to his legs as if tailored for him while the white shirt with thin blue lines was a bit big, the hem falling just above his thighs. The sleeves were cuffed to his elbows, showing off his leather wrist watch. The black sunglasses perched atop his head pushed his newly dyed hair back and paired with the black-and-white loafers. Both of his ears were so heavily pierced that there was no bare skin left, each lobe and cartilage adorned with small silver studs and hoops.

“Ah, my bad! I thought you heard me approaching.” He scratched the back of his head and averted his gaze fleetingly. Wooyoung noticed a quick shimmer on his tongue, a silver piercing catching the light before it disappeared behind his teeth. “The guys and I wanted to introduce ourselves, but haven’t had the time. I’m Hongjoong and I recently moved to the place across the street with some friends.”

Wooyoung eyed the extended hand. 

It was small with slender fingers and neatly trimmed nails. A silver band rested on his ring finger, quietly declaring him married. Comically enough, it was also the only finger with its nail painted in yellow. The ring was beautiful, a chain of delicate infinity symbols linked together with a small diamond set between each one. It wasn’t flashy or a typical engagement ring, but it still screamed wealthy.  

He accepted the handshake. “It’s fine, I just didn’t expect anyone before opening. It’s nice to meet you, I'm Wooyoung. Owner of Utopia.”

“Ah, I didn’t know you owned it! Me too! I’m the co-owner of Crazy Form.”

“Crazy…form?”

Hongjoong nodded and pointed in the direction of his business before digging his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Yeah, our tattoo parlour.” 

That explained the massage beds and machines Yeosang was talking about. They couldn’t have been more wrong about the services they provided. Instead of giving relief, they were paid to repeatedly stab a needle into people. On second thought, some people liked the sensation of being pricked a thousand times over. Something about it being like therapy for the body. 

“Oh, cool. I don’t think we’ve had a tattoo shop open around here before. Have you been in the business before?”

“Yeah, we first opened in Jinju like two years ago then decided we wanted to try some place bigger.” 

“Seoul is quite big. A lot of opportunities.”

“And rivalry,” Hongjoong stated. 

Wooyoung hummed. “That’s everywhere though. As long as there’s people around there will be things to do. Skin to tattoo and flowers to sell.”

If only they hadn’t moved into that cursed shoe box, he thought, but decided not to mention it. Getting on the wrong foot with the new guys probably wasn’t the best idea, especially if they did manage to stay longer than a few months.

Hongjoong laughed and Wooyoung smiled at the sound. “Speaking of flowers, you think you can arrange something for me?”

The florist raised a brow at the question. He didn’t want to appear cocky, but there wasn’t anything he couldn’t fix, especially when it came to flowers and conveying a message. Challenge accepted, Wooyoung thought and strolled up to the entrance. He held the door open, gesturing for Hongjoong to enter first. 

“Let’s hear what it is you wish before I make empty promises.”

“I’d like an arrangement of pink flowers that say: you complete me.”

“I assume it’s for a special someone,” Wooyoung started, leaving the door ajar for Hongjoong to either push open or shut. 

“Yeah, it’s for my soulmate. He already knows I love him, I mean we tell each other that everyday, but sometimes words are just words, right?”

“Right.”

Hongjoong followed Wooyoung like a clueless puppy around the boutique, the only thing occupying his every thought being the soulmate. It was a great way for Wooyoung to pick and choose the flowers he deemed fit for the bouquet without the customer meddling in his project. Of course, the customer was always right, and Wooyoung had no issue adapting to the customer’s wishes.

“Besides, I haven’t given him flowers since we opened and Seonghwa loves flowers. Oh, the glee on his face… There are literally stars in his eyes whenever he sees something he likes. It just makes me fall in love all over again.”

By the time they made it back to the counter, Wooyoung picked out seven different plants that would not only look beautiful together, but proclaim Hongjoong’s love for his soulmate all over again. 

“It sounds like you’ve been together for a long time?” Wooyoung asked as he shortened some of the stems and removed the excess tags or leaves, preparing the flowers to be flawless.

“Four years, but we’ve known each other long before that.”

Wooyoung hummed and continued adding flowers to the soon-to-be bouquet. The songs from the radio filled the silence between them. The conversation died naturally. There was only so much you could talk about with a complete stranger without turning it awkward by oversharing. 

However, Wooyoung’s thoughts were far from quiet. Hongjoong’s answer left him intrigued by their love story. Why hadn’t they gotten together earlier? Maybe they’d met as kids, with nothing on their minds but playing with friends and collecting Pokémon cards. Or maybe it had been something far more dramatic, something like forbidden love.

Wooyoung sneaked a glance at the tattoo artist in front of him. He was completely immersed in his phone, thumbs tapping at the speed of light, the curve of his lips suggesting he was reading something amusing. Wooyoung didn’t usually like creating scenarios about other people, but Hongjoong didn’t give off homewrecker vibes either.

He averted his gaze the moment Hongjoong’s eyes flickered up and continued fussing over the arrangement, gently adjusting a few flowers to make them sit just right.

“So, the pink lilies symbolize love, femininity and admiration,” Wooyoung began, carefully adjusting the bouquet in his hands, hoping to draw the attention elsewhere. “The pink and white roses stand for gratitude, and the white carnations add a soft, sweet touch. They represent innocence, pure love and faithfulness.”

The phone and whatever had him smiling like a fool was long forgotten as Hongjoong listened intently, which only fueled Wooyoung’s ego.

“The light pink gerbera daisies symbolize admiration, adoration and compassion. They carry this warm, affectionate feeling like… appreciating someone just for being who they are.” He paused briefly. “And the chrysanthemums stand for affection, gentleness and lasting love. Baby’s breath means innocence and purity of heart, though I added them mostly to balance out the pink, but they work well with your message.”

Wooyoung tied the stems with green string then quickly, without disrupting anything, wrapped the bouquet in two different shades of pink paper. He stepped back, admiring his work before holding it out.

“Basically,” he said with a grin, “it says you love him a lot. What do you say? Did I live up to your expectations?”

Hongjoong gingerly took the arrangement, as though it were something frail and ready to crumble beneath his touch, and was unable to look away. There was nothing but pure adoration in his eyes and Wooyoung wondered how he must stare at Seonghwa if even a bouquet could leave him this lovestruck.

“These are beautiful,” he breathed out. “Seonghwa will love them.” 

“He better! They are a reflection of your inner feelings after all and something’s telling me he will love anything as long as it’s from you.”

The comment made Hongjoong duck in embarrassment. Red attacked his ears and cheeks, almost bleeding together with his hair. He quickly took out his wallet and slid out a  ₩50,000 bill. It was either him wanting to scurry off and give the flowers to his lover or disappear before the teasing could get any worse.

“No, no! It’s on the house. ”

“Nonsense, take this before I double it.”

“Double it? Are you crazy? See it as a house warming gift.”

“House warming gift for my soulmate?”

“A…” Wooyoung’s confidence faltered. “A welcome to Seoul gift?”

Hongjoong laughed. Instead of waiting on Wooyoung to take the bill, he slid it across the counter and started backing up toward the exit.

“You are welcome over to us anytime. I’d like you to meet the team, we are planning to stay for a while after all. We will probably need a few more bouquets to liven up the place.”

“I’m bringing you a house warming gift then!” Woooyung shouted after him, but the man was already out the door leaving the chime of the bell in his wake. 

Who would’ve thought Mingi’s wish of getting to know the new guys was coming true sooner than later.

“Stop touching the flowers!” Wooyoung hissed and swatted the hand prodding at a pink tulip. 

“Hey!” Mingi exclaimed and shook his hand as if there was any damage done. 

“Don’t touch them, you’re ruining the petals and we don’t have time to make a new one.” 

“Guys, quiet down,” Yeosang muttered as they moved closer to the tattoo parlour.

“It’s Wooyoung who started it.” 

“I didn’t start anything, I’m making sure you don’t ruin the flowers and you,” he directed his attention to Yeosang, “why are you walking around with wet hair? You'll get sick!”

Yeosang shushed them one last time before reaching for the doors of Crazy Form. That was what he got for caring. Instead of hugs and kisses, he received hisses and claws. 

Although Hongjoong only formally invited Wooyoung, he couldn’t show up alone. Utopia consisted of more than just him alone. Yeosang and Mingi were the pillars keeping the boutique from collapsing. They were a package deal. Where Wooyoung went, so did Yeosang and Mingi.

That alone explained why a group of three guys, all with different colored hair, stood in the empty reception area of Crazy Form. A soft pop song played in the background and the pleasant smell of laundry detergent wrapped around them like a blanket. Everything about the place screamed pristine. White walls, a high ceiling and dark oak flooring that echoed every footstep. 

The reception was airy and rectangle shaped with a counter on the left side of the entrance and a lounge-like space that held two three-seat sofas, a small coffee table and a large stack of magazines. The seats were each pushed up against a wall and a water machine occupied the slim space between them. 

Wooyoung peeked around the right corner from his position by the entrance. A long hallway stretched ahead with three doors, one marked with a toilet symbol. The others remained a mystery, but he assumed it was where the painful magic happened. A few shelves lined the walls holding various decorations like vases with feathers, framed certificates, a mini Bearbrick and other interesting trinkets.

“It’s nice,” Mingi commented and shuffled closer to the big window on the left side of the room.

Wooyoung tailed Mingi’s movements, but was distracted by the outside world. He could see their shop from here. The flowers placed on display were majestic in the sunlight, but not much could be seen beyond that. He could finally breathe. The handsome guy hadn’t caught him peeping that day.

“It has the same vibe of a hair salon,” Yeosang stated as he looked around. 

Before anything else could be said about the interior, a high pitched ding sounded through the room. Wooyoung and Yeosang whipped their heads in the direction of the noise only to land on Mingi with his hand centimeters away from the call bell on top of the counter. His eyes were screwed shut and lips pressed together as if he didn’t expect it to be so loud. 

Wooyoung could already picture his own expression; something akin to being completely done with everything in life. Yeosang sported something similar, but clearly had a hard time keeping a straight face, if the rapid blinking and quivering of his lips was anything to go by.

The click of a door opening made them all straighten up and shuffle close to one another. For some reason, Mingi and Yeosang were a step behind Wooyoung. It was a sight straight out of a comic considering their size difference. The echoing sound of footsteps held everyone's attention. They didn’t belong to Hongjoong, but rather the man who could rule a catwalk and be the center of attention in a museum.

Today, he was the very definition of cozy. An oversized white sweater draped effortlessly over his frame, slipping just enough to reveal his collarbones, and the sleeves were long enough to swallow his hands into soft sweater paws. His hair fell naturally, loose strands framing his face with an easy softness. There wasn’t a trace of makeup, yet he looked effortlessly, undeniably beautiful.

“Welcome to Crazy Form!” 

Even his voice was soft.

Yeosang was the first to break out of the trance and bowed, pink dusting his cheeks. “Oh, thank you.”

“How rude of me! I’m Seonghwa.” The angel extended his hand, a ring identical to Hongjoong’s glinting on his fourth finger.

The trio, stunned and not particularly graceful about it, each reached for the handshake at the same time. Their movements collided as they all blurted out their names in unison bringing out a joyous laugh from Seonghwa.

“You must be the owners from across the street then? Hongjoong told me about your encounter from a few days ago. It’s nice of you to come for a visit.”

“Here,” Mingi suddenly exclaimed and thrusted the bouquet in the other’s hands. 

“Oh my… I– Wow. These are beautiful. Thank you.” Seonghwa began walking in the direction he’d come from, then glanced over his shoulder with a soft smile. “I’ll grab a vase and put them in water, but please, come with me first. Hongjoong’s in his studio.”

They followed the man like ducklings waddling after their mother. Being this close to Seonghwa, Wooyoung noticed the man didn’t have any extraordinary piercings or visible tattoos. There could be some permanent art hidden beneath his clothes, but something was hinting that Seonghwa wasn’t a person fond of having tattoos. 

“Are you a tattoo artist too, Seonghwa-ssi?” Yeosang asked.

“Please, just call me Seonghwa, we are probably the same age.”

“We are all 99-liners.”

“Ah, then Hongjoong and I are your hyungs. To answer your question, Yeosang-ie, I’m not a tattooist, but I am practicing with Joong. For now, I’m just a piercer. Mingi, you have the perfect ears! Do you want to get something done? We can do a discount for your first time. I’m really gentle, I promise.”

Mingi was an easily flustered mess, a scaredy cat too, but Wooyoung had never seen him turn that shade of red before in his life. Not to mention the stuttering, as if he had forgotten how to speak.

“P–pier–piercing?”

“Ya, Seonghwa, let the kid be. Don’t you see he’s turning into a strawberry?”

The words did nothing to ease the blush, if anything it deepened and creeped higher up his ears. Wooyoung and Yeosang did a terrible job at holding back their snickers. Hongjoong lingered by the doorway, presumably to his room, watching it all unfold. Seonghwa, meanwhile, drifted to his side like magnets drawn to each other, and Hongjoong’s arm slipped easily around his waist, settling firm at his hip as if it belonged there.

“Really? Sorry, Min-ie. I just got excited.”

“Uh, it’s okay…”

Wooyoung mocked him internally. It’s okay, but he was so eager to stop by for a massage. If Seonghwa made him this flustered with just a few words, then he’d be putty if the man got his hands on him. 

“Look, Joong, we got flowers.” 

“Oh, they are pretty. Should I put them in a vase?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “No, I can do it.”

“I can help you, the paper can be hard to remove sometimes.”

As the two angels returned down the hallway, Seonghwa made another attempt to reel in a customer.

“Yeosang-ie, you’ve got the perfect structure for face tattoos,” he said, leaning just enough to add a hint of mischief.

“Don’t give him any ideas now, Seonghwa-hyung, our poor Jongho wouldn’t survive that,” Wooyoung cackled and entered Hongjoong’s room as he waved them in.

The workspace was small, intimate even. Unlike the front of the parlour, these walls were black and combined with the dim lighting, they cast a cozy atmosphere over the room. Posters of various music bands covered the walls, some familiar to Wooyoung, others not. David Bowie, Michael Jackson, Linkin Park were the few he recognized. The man wasn’t just handsome, but had a great taste in music too.

To the left of the entrance sat an emerald green leather sofa. It looked more stylish than comfortable. Opposite it, pushed against the wall, was a desk scattered with papers. A backless chair, presumably for the tattooist, was tucked beneath it. In the center of the room, a single tattoo bed waited for the next customer, a small trolley stacked with tattoo equipment positioned beside it.

Hongjoong pulled out the saddle chair. “I’d apologize for him, but… that’s just how he is and I love him too much to be sorry.”

Mingi plopped down on the sofa and Wooyoung occupied the vacant spot beside him. 

“Don’t be, he’s funny and it’s about time someone else helps me fluster these guys.” Wooyoung threw an arm around Mingi’s shoulder, only to be pushed off. 

The scene brought out a laugh from the older. 

“Ah, it’s a shame San isn’t here. I have a feeling you guys would get along.”

At first, Wooyoung thought he misheard it, but as the word registered in his mind, his blood froze in his veins and left him momentarily paralyzed. He was completely glued to the sofa, fingers trembling and heart on the brink of tearing out of his chest.

It couldn’t be that San. The one from his memories or past life, or wherever he’d be coming from. He had lived twenty-five years without ever hearing the name, then the memory struck him and now in reality too. The universe could be annoying when it wanted to, huh? 

“San?” Mingi repeated.

Wooyoung breathed in tandem with the name being said and snapped his gaze to Hongjoong. He tried to swallow, but it was as if his mouth had been stuffed with sand. The thoughts didn’t stop swarming him.

Was his soulmate at a distance of six meters all this time?

What if their eyes met that evening?

Would the memories disappear? 

Would Wooyoung hear his name from San’s own lips before his memory?

What if the man walked through this very door? 

“Yeah, our second tattooist. He’s currently running some errands, but he’ll be back soon.”

The world went quiet. All he could hear was the deafening rhythm of his own heart. He could see Hongjoong talk, hands flying and shoulders shaking from laughter. The sofa jostled every now and then, Mingi’s movements making him brush thighs and elbows with Wooyoung, yet he didn’t react at all. 

Dark clouds gathered over the country and the sky opened up, unleashing a never ending downpour of rain. The market had long since been abandoned. The rain made it unbearable to sell or trade goods, which in return had everyone hide from the storm in the warmth of their homes. It also meant Wooyoung had no reason to slip off into the night and meet with the secret man that could be his very demise.

Their promise of finding each other every fortnight was broken for the first time. Wooyoung sat on the floor by the window in the main area. Sleep had a hard time finding him. His remaining family members were fast asleep in the other room and thanks to the rain, his escape didn’t disturb their peaceful slumber. Even as he slid the window open, the rhythmic sound of droplets crashing against wood did nothing.

Wooyoung couldn’t stop thinking about the other young man. He wondered if he too was awake at the dead of night, staring at the dark canvas and dedicating all his thoughts to the flower boy. Another fortnight would have to pass before they could venture through the forest and bask in each other’s presence. They didn’t need the sun or the moon keeping them company, the stars alone or morning birds could guide them through the tangled mess of trees and bushes. 

All Wooyoung needed in the moment was to see the man that capitaved his entire being. A tiny, flickering light hovered between the trees, seeking refuge from the rain. Its warm yellow glow blinked softly as it drifted through the air.

“Wooyoung?” 

The soft voice, one he would recognize in any lifetime, startled him more than thunder ever could. As he turned around, his mother gently stepped forward. The burning candle illuminated the room, casting a soft glow against the floor and walls. The sliding door leading to the common bedroom was already closed. Wooyoung must’ve been in deep thought.

She pressed her hand to his forehead then cheek. A wrinkle appeared beneath her brows and her lips pursed at the normal temperature. 

“I am not sick, mother. I simply could not sleep.”

“Is something weighing on your mind, Youngie?”

Wooyoung parted his lips, but all that escaped was a faint cloud of breath. Perhaps in another life he could open his chest and lay out his heart on the table, bare for his mother to see. In that life, maybe his mother would cradle him like the day he was born and weighed nothing more than a bag of flour, whispering words of comfort and encouragement. 

“No, mother. It is just the weather. Could you brew some tea for me?”

“Always.” She pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his head, her hand trailing from his hair down his back.

“Wooyoung?”

He blinked away the memory. The tears gathered at his water line spilled over and trailed down his cheeks. He hastily wiped them away, but they just wouldn’t stop coming. 

“Are you okay?” 

It was Mingi again. Wooyoung couldn’t bring himself to meet Hongjoong’s gaze. It was embarrassing enough just crying in his studio alone. Instead he lowered his head and stared at the tips of his feet.

“Y–Yeah. It was just a stupid memory,” he chuckled, but it held no real warmth. “You know how it is. I’ll bounce back, give me a moment.”   

A hand, too small to be Mingi’s, entered his line of sight, holding out a tissue. Hongjoong nudged his hand again, forcing Wooyoung to take the napkin. 

“Thank you…”

“Don’t sweat it. The bathroom is right outside if you wanna freshen up. I have clients crying on the daily, nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

The normal reaction would’ve been to bow and lock himself in the bathroom, but Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to wrap himself up in a blanket like a burrito and shut out everything beyond the four walls of his bedroom. 

Instead, he got up on his shaky legs, gave a little bow and hurried out of the room. As Hongjoong promised, the bathroom wasn’t hard to find and Wooyoung winced at the loud slam of the door. He locked it at the speed of light and made the tap run. Splashing cold water on his face did nothing to calm the heat sizzling beneath his skin. It did help with the dried tears and snot, but the redness around his eyes and cheeks was still there.

Looking in the mirror, Wooyoung only saw a mess of a man. 

But also a boy who never found peace within himself. 

Wooyoung rested his weight against the sink and lowered his head, staring at the white porcelain. A few blonde strands fell before his eyes, but he paid them no mind. He jutted out his hip, legs twisted behind him. More than a handful of years passed since he last saw or heard from his parents. He thought their absence would be better to handle with the years, but a measly memory from his past life proved him wrong. 

Pair that with the possibility of Wooyoung and his soulmate tip-toeing around each other didn’t lighten the burden on his heart. The people who combined their love to bring him into this world left him. Not literally. Wooyoung packed his own bags (a backpack to be precise) and crossed the threshold of his childhood home for the last time at the ripe age of twenty-two. So, yes. Maybe Wooyoung left, but his mom unlocked the door and his dad helped him put on his shoes.

He didn’t feel it now, but there was some comfort in knowing his past self at least had someone to make him tea in the dead of night. Just thinking about those words made a bitter wave crash into the walls of his stomach. 

There truly wasn’t anything good about the memories. Not when it came to his soulmate, some forbidden love story, and not even when it came to his past family. 

“Come on, don’t think about it,” Wooyoung whispered to himself, eyes cast on the water disappearing down the drain. 

He doused his face in water one more time before drying it with a handful of napkins. The sound of the toilet flushing followed by water running and the damp swipe of his hands against his pants would hopefully be enough to cover that he’d been crying. Not Yeosang though. Never Yeosang. He always noticed when even a strand on Wooyoung’s head was out of place.

As expected, Yeosang’s gaze immediately found Wooyoung’s. The shorter threw him a quick smile that was reciprocated. Wooyoung entered the bubble with ease and no one mentioned his sniffling or stared a second too long at the redness around his eyes. 

Later that day, when the sun had long since gone to sleep and the stars lit up the dark sky, Yeosang and Wooyoung sat on a cold bench by the bus stop. The night was cruel. They had their arms wrapped around themselves in futile attempts of warming up. Wooyoung’s place was just a walk away, but Yeosang lived a bit further into the city.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Wooyoung glanced his way, but the other just stared up at the stars. He eventually faced forward, back leaning against the cool glass. 

“Mingi told you.”

Yeosang hummed. “Yes, also, your eyes were red and you were quiet. You are never quiet.”

“That’s not true! I can be quiet…”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, you just chose not to.”

“I hate when you notice these things.”

That made Yeosang laugh. A real, hearty laugh. “We have been friends for more than ten years! It would be bad if I didn’t.”

“Still! I don’t like it and I don’t like Mingi for being a tattletale.”

Yeosang gave him a pointed look that eventually broke into a smile. “That’s not true.”

“I know…” He sighed. “It was different this time. Not like the previous hundred memories at all.”

Silence stretched between them.

“He wasn’t in it. We were supposed to meet up, but heavy rain ruined that. Instead, I sat by the window and just thought of him. I can’t explain it, Yeosang, but I was so sad. So defeated I couldn’t see him, I–”

Wooyoung exhaled shakily and looked up again, swallowing the lump of tears in his throat. 

“The worst thing is, I can see him so vividly. All the details on his face, his voice, his movements. Then, when I’m brought back it’s just a… person, but I can’t picture him in my head and that isn’t even why I cried in the first place,” he chuckled. “I freaking wish it was.”

He fiddled with his fingers, rubbing and twisting them with no goal in mind.

“I saw mom. In the memory, I mean.”

Yeosang paused to the point it seemed like he wasn’t breathing. He didn’t say anything and Wooyoung took it as his cue to continue.

“She was nice… for once. She was worried about me cause I was up in the middle of the night.” He smiled. “She made me tea and then I woke up. It was weird and… you know when you wake up after a bad dream, all shaken and can’t really make sense of where you are until you figure out it isn’t real? Yeah, that’s how I felt.”

Even now, sitting there a few hours after the memory took place, Wooyoung could feel the tremor deep in his bones. It would follow him for a few days before he could find it a comfortable place in his body.

“Do you miss them?” Yeosang eventually asked.

The physical ache in his chest could never be replaced by someone or something else. Wooyoung knew, though, that he missed the idea of what could’ve been more than he missed his parents. A simple reunion, a hug and pat on the head, wouldn’t mend the years of mistreatment and harsh words that had defined his childhood.

“I don’t really miss them… just the parents I never had. And I’m more sad about little me than me today. Now I can do and go wherever I want. I couldn’t really do that back then and they did fuck all to be the parents I needed… But there’s no point in thinking of the what-ifs.”

Warmth landed on his thigh.

“...You have come far, Wooyoung-ie. I am proud of you.” 

The words were simple and wrapped around his heart like a soft embrace. Wooyoung wiped his eyes again. It had been a long time since anyone had said that to him. He knew he was doing well. Better, even. Anyone could see that. Still, it felt different hearing someone else say it and hear them acknowledge the sweat and tears he’d poured into everything.

Most of all, it was nice to be told he was doing something right. Whether it was keeping a roof over his head or not burning the flower shop to the ground.

Wooyoung was doing good.

“Thank you, Sang-ie. Really.”

“You have us, Wooyoung. Mingi, Jongho, and I. And someday, you’ll find your soulmate too. I can’t promise you’ll get along right away or even that you’ll fall in love, but I find it hard to believe you won’t. You’re impossible not to love.”

“You’re really going to make me cry if you keep saying stuff like that.”

They broke into laughter. Wooyoung watched as Yeosang threw his head back and eyes screwed shut, and felt a quiet swell of gratitude. He would be forever grateful for his friends. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for them. 

The bright screen of his phone lit up the room in an instant. Wooyoung stirred beneath the sheets at its relentless buzzing. He reached for it, fumbling across the nightstand until he finally got his hands on it. The buzzing stopped and the screen flared back to life, momentarily blinding him. It was half past three in the morning and multiple messages as well as missed calls covered the entire wallpaper.

“What the…”

They were from Yeosang. 

Doberman [03:32]

3 missed calls

Doberman [03:34]

are you asleep?

Doberman [03:34]

its okay if you aer

Doberman [03:34]

my herd hurts i think

im sick

Doberman [03:38]

5 missed calls

Just as Wooyoung was about to call him back, the phone came to life. He quickly answered.

“Hello? Yeosang?” Wooyoung sounded like death himself. 

“Mmm? Young-ie?”

“Yes, it’s Wooyoung-ie. Yeosang, what happened?”

“Augh, I don’t know. I need to work.”

“Work? It’s in the middle of the night, you need to sleep.”

A whine came from the other end of the line, then a tired groan and the rustle of sheets. 

“Yeosang, where’s Jongho?”

“Out.”

“Out where? Out-he’s-asleep-out or he’s out-out?”

“Mmmm, he’s out… My head hurts.”

Wooyoung sighed. There was really no point in trying to get any information out of him. He was like a little baby. Wooyoung pushed the sheets off himself and ran a hand over his face.

“Listen, Sang-ie. Can you lie down for me, hm?”

“Mmmm.”

“Good. Just lie down, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

“You comin’ over?”

Wooyoung balanced the phone between his head and shoulder while rummaging through his closet for some loose fitting clothes. He eventually settled on a pair of black sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with some white details on the sleeves. 

“Yes and I’m bringing soup. The one you like, the chicken soup.”

"Chicken soup!”

“That’s right, but you have to promise to stay in bed, okay?”

“I promise, Young-ah.”

The call ended and Wooyoung immediately pocketed his phone and keys, leaving the home in a hurry. He’d have to stop by the 7-eleven around the corner first before heading over to Yeosang and Jongho’s. He had no idea what Yeosang could’ve caught or what they had in their cupboards. Wooyoung shook his head. He told him he was going to get sick, but he didn’t listen. It was whatever. He’d lecture him another time.

The convenience store was empty, which was to be expected in the dead of night. Behind the register was a young boy, probably just finished high school. They exchanged quiet greetings before they each went their own way. Wooyoung could feel the annoyance roll off the boy in waves. It wasn’t like Wooyoung planned to buy groceries this late. If he could, he would still be snoring in bed.

He grabbed a basket and filled it with the ingredients he needed for the soup. He added a few hydrating drinks, patches, herbal teas, anything that would be of use. Soon, the basket was overflowing and he began to wonder if it was all even necessary. Screw it, he thought and put the basket on the counter. He’d rather they have too much stuff than too little.

“Is that all?”

Wooyoung nodded.

“It will be 31 000 won, please.”

As he was about to pay with his phone, the door of the convenience store opened and the bell chimed. Both Wooyoung and the cashier turned toward the entrance. Apparently, Wooyoung wasn’t the only one going on late night adventures. 

The phone slipped from his grasp and clattered loudly against the floor. The newcomer’s gaze snapped toward the sound, landing on Wooyoung’s perplexed expression. They both froze as the cashier switched awkwardly between them. 

Those moles, eyes, lips. Everything clicked in place and though Wooyoung had never crossed paths with this man before, something deep inside him knew that they had met in a life that wasn’t this one. 

Wooyoung’s heart was restless, pounding against his chest and echoing in his ears. He couldn’t hear his thoughts over the loud thumping, but in reality everything in his head turned silent as their eyes met. No thoughts, no concern, no nothing.

A rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Wooyoung had just finished feeding the chickens before the heavy rain returned. Once it started pouring, there was no stopping. At least the crops and flowers would get the nourishment they needed.

The flower boy closed the chicken coop and skipped the two steps up to the entrance, then slowed as the ground trembled beneath him. The sound grew louder, but he could’ve sworn there hadn’t been a flash of lightning. Wooyoung turned as the wooden gate was pushed open and was faced with a man he had never seen before. 

His long hair was tied back in a ponytail, his stern expression one to fear. The maroon hanbok hung looser than most, allowing him to move with ease. A golden sigil adorned his chest, one Wooyoung was more than familiar with, marking him as a servant of the royal house. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at any moment, while the other remained raised in the air.

The reasons a royal guard would barge into a commoner’s house were few and Wooyoung had an inkling it had something to do with him.

The guard stared at him with burning confidence, unfazed by the rain soaking through his clothes. He swept his gaze across the garden then gave a brief wave over his shoulder. Wooyoung swallowed thickly. The only member of the royal family who Wooyoung had ties with was–

“Your Royal Highness,” he breathed out as the prince came into view.  

Beautiful as a thousand sunsets and stronger than all the mountains and seas combined. He crossed the small stone path, shaky hands finding Wooyoung’s. The tremor in his fingers eased, his breathing slowly settling into a steady rhythm.

“Wooyoung, oh my…” San murmured, caressing the top of his head before sliding down to cup his cheek. “My Wooyoung.”

The agony, pain, perhaps even betrayal reflecting in his eyes, left Wooyoung on the verge of tears. The prince who walked with a straight back and head held high was nowhere to be seen. This was a man who had been kicked, pulled and pushed in a corner with his hand tied. 

Wooyoung cast a quick glance in the direction of the guard, but found the man staring out through the gate. For the prince to boldly show a display of affection could only mean something bad had happened. Yet did Wooyoung wish his intuition was wrong. 

He leaned into the touch, unable to look away. “What is the matter, my prince?” 

It plagued his mind and seeped into every part of him. Into the downturn of his lips, the slump of his shoulders, the sorrow clouding his eyes. The source of his pain was beyond what Wooyoung could fathom, yet, as the naïve commoner he was, he clung to one unwavering truth. What they shared was stronger than any pain, any burden, any shadow that threatened them.

“I… I am deeply sorry, my flower.” The prince caressed Wooyoung’s cheek with his thumb, but the gesture did nothing to calm the unruly storm inside of him. “I did not expect this to… I truly believed we had more time.”

“Please, you are scaring me.”

“I would never have wished such misfortune upon you. Had I known… oh, Wooyoung, had I known of this heavy heartache. I would have spared you all of it.”

Wooyoung slithered his hands up the prince’s arms and wrapped around his wrists in a comforting manner. He could not make sense of his words. He did not dare to think what they could mean.

 “I am to marry the daughter of Advisor Kang. My father’s health is worse by the day and the physician believes he does not have long left with us… He has made his decision. I am to take the throne after him. Wooyoung-ah, I am to be the next King.”

The breath was knocked from him. Confession after confession struck the flower boy, piercing his chest and raking his back like a sword through his very being. The words were a constant in his head, even as the rain poured heavier as ever, Wooyoung could only hear his voice on repeat. 

“I am truly, deeply sorry–”

“Ho–How long… When–”

“As long as the horse ride it took me to reach you, that is how long I have carried this knowledge.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks were wet and salty. The tears were unstoppable now. Amidst everything, despite the unfortunate decision molding his very future, the prince still  sought out Wooyoung. One last chance to meet, hold and love. One last chance.

“My heart will always be yours. It will always be occupied by you, my Wooyoung–”

Wooyoung shook his head, the tears mixing with the rain.

“Yes, it shall. Despite what they have decided for me, you will be the only man I shall ever love. Wooyoung-ah, please, let me see you before…”

Before he became tied to the throne, unable to ever step outside the palace without at least a dozen eyes following his every move. 

The prince gently forced Wooyoung’s head up and the sight would forever be engraved in his mind. The next kin in line, spilling buckets over a mere commoner with nothing to his name. 

“Hear me, Wooyoung, son of the admirable farmer Sieun and his wife Youngmi. Will you promise me to live well? To find a love kinder, stronger, and truer than ours? Not for the sake of erasing us, but to preserve your heart. Promise me.”

“I cannot–”

“You must. You must promise me. I shall ensure you a life free of hardship, wealth, food, shelter. Everything will be provided for and if I could, I would mend your heart too, but it is beyond my power. Believe me…”

“I… I promise.”

The prince mustered a wobbly smile. He pressed his forehead to Wooyoung’s, their breaths mingling. His thumbs continued their gentle strokes, but they offered no comfort at all. They served as a reminder that it would be the last time he’d feel the prince’s touch. 

Wooyoung stood still as the prince tilted his head sideways, their noses bumping softly, before leaning in to brush their lips together. Everything they couldn’t say poured into the kiss. The pain, the affection, the desire, the sorrow. How cruel was it to be human, to need something as simple as air while clinging to the only thing that truly mattered in life.

As they pulled apart, the prince rested his hand around Wooyoung’s neck while the other placed Wooyoung’s hand over his chest. 

“As long as my heart is beating, know that it beats for you and only you… And I promise to find you in every life.”

A whistle broke through the heavy rain, but neither man budged. It was time.

“I need to leave…”

“Thank you,” Wooyoung managed to say through his sniffling. “Th–Thank you for showing me whu–what love is despite our differences.”

“I wish to have done more, but…”

“Do not grieve any longer. I will carry these memories with me into the next life and the next, and the next. All until you find me once more. We shall continue what we could not finish. I shall keep my promise as long as you keep yours. So, please, find me.”

“Always, my love.”

As the prince fought an internal battle, contemplating whether to run or to stay, the flower boy willed his body to hold on just a little while longer. Just enough for the prince to make up his mind and take everything with him, but the memories stored in Wooyoung’s mind. 

The stars bore witness to the heart ache present before them while the rest of the country was rocked to sleep by the unruly storm, unbeknownst of the sacrifices and promises made that night. 

“San!”

It did not matter that it was the first time he called after the prince, loud and clear for even the dead to hear. He did not turn around. The vow to keep his word stronger than his desire to betray his country.

Then, just like that, everything came rushing back tenfold. Each and every memory flashed in his mind. All that was said, all that was done. Everything. The blurry man to be blamed for his sleepless nights was standing before him equally surprised. The dimpled smile, moon crescent eyes, freckle covered neck, it all belonged to his royal highness. 

Wooyoung knew this man because their souls had already found each other once.

No one made a sound. Wooyoung couldn’t find his voice. Hell, he couldn’t make sense of what to say and if he even dared to open his mouth, everything he ate the day prior would spill on the floor. A gesture the young cashier definitely wouldn’t appreciate. 

Although his head was screaming at him to say something, anything! He couldn’t. For being a person with always something to say, he sure had a hard time finding the words now. Instead, he did what was probably the dumbest thing dated in history. Wooyoung grabbed the plastic bag off the counter and pushed past his very soulmate. One foot in front of the other, he walked all the way to Yeosang and Jongho’s place and the world behind him continued sleeping. 

“Hello?” Jongho’s groggy voice sounded through the intercom.

“I’m here.”

“...Wooyoung? What the hell are you doing here at… five in the morning?”

“Can you please let me in?”

“Are you crying? Wooyoung, what the hell happened.”

The tears stopped by the sixth crossroad, but the hyperventilating and shuddering sobs lasted longer. Wooyoung dreaded the headache he’d face tomorrow.

“Please, Jongho, just… Open the door.”

The intercom buzzed and the door clicked open. Wooyoung barely made it up the flight of stairs. The adrenaline was wearing off and the strain of walking a good ten kilometers without rest was catching up to him. He didn’t even manage to raise his hand to knock before the door was opened. Jongho stood there in a white t-shirt, blue checkered pyjama pants and fuzzy slippers on his feet.

Wooyoung thrust the plastic bag in the other’s arms then slipped inside. He kicked off his shoes and beelined for the sofa, collapsing onto it like a sack of potatoes. The door was shut and a soft rustle of plastic filled the otherwise silent apartment. Soft footsteps grew louder until the checkered pants came into view. 

“Young-ah?”

It stayed quiet for a moment longer. The faint flutter of Wooyoung’s lashes against the cushions and soft rhythm of his breathing did nothing to disturb the silence, only interrupting his train of thoughts. 

“I met my soulmate.”

“What?”

“And I think his name is San.”

“You think? When did this happen? Is that why you are here right now?”

Wooyoung angled his head to get a better look at Jongho’s face. If he wasn’t experiencing a life altering moment, he would’ve felt bad for the guy. But Wooyoung was too deep in his own groveling to expand his thoughtfulness to someone else. 

“I was buying groceries for Yeosang. To make him soup cause he’s sick.” He shuffled to lay on his back instead, fingers intertwined over his stomach and legs folded in a triangle. “He called me, saying you were out and he wasn’t feeling good. So I went out instead and met… him.”

Jongho sighed, but settled onto the sofa by Wooyoung’s legs, nudging them aside just enough to make room for himself. “And? Then what happened?”

“Then… I got a memory…

“And?”

“...And I left.” He smacked his lips together. “I just left.”

“...Why?”

“Cause I’m fucking dumb, Jongho, that’s why.”

“Hey, now–”

“No, it’s true. I found the supposed love of my life, the man I’ve been seeing in my head for God knows how long. The one I’ve been yearning for so fucking long and I fucking left him in a shitty 7-eleven! I’m a fucking idi–”

The rest of his sentence crumbled as a throaty shudder tore through him. Wooyoung covered his face with his hands to muffle his cries, Yeosang was probably asleep and still sick. The last thing he wanted was to disturb his peace. 

Jongho said nothing. It wasn’t every day the best friend of your partner showed up on your doorstep with a bag of groceries and tears in his eyes. Besides, Jongho couldn’t console others to save a life. 

A soft and hesitant pat reached his shin which just made him cry harder. 

San kept his promise. 

The thought made him inconsolable. The awkward caress eventually stopped and the dip by his legs evened out. A few shuffling noises came from the kitchen followed by a ticklish feeling against his forearm. Wooyoung peeked from behind his arm and was met with a tissue in his face. 

Jongho didn’t look at him, instead he kept his focus on the white wall behind the sofa. Wooyoung murmured a thank you and clumsily wiped at his eyes. As soon as his hand was free, Jongho disappeared again without a word.

Wooyoung wondered what San was doing now. 

Did he know they were soulmates?

Did he see what Wooyoung saw?

Was he angry? Sad?

Why didn’t he chase after him?

The questions died as Jongho emerged from their shared bedroom, a pillow tucked beneath his arm and a thick quilt draped over his shoulder.

“Here.” 

He handed the pillow to Wooyoung. Then, as Woooyung settled more comfortably onto the sofa, Jongho drew the blanket over him.

“Go to sleep, hyung. We can talk about this in the morning. Unless you want me to stay?”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you…Sorry–”

“Don’t mention it. You just try to get some rest, yeah? There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom and you know your way around the place. Take whatever you need.”

“I will… Jjong?”

The man turned, already halfway across the living room, and raised a brow.

“Where were you? Yeosang called and said you were out-out.”

A sugary giggle filled the apartment. “Ah, that guy… I was just bringing the cushions in from the balcony, you know, so they wouldn’t get soaked in the rain.”

“Oh… I see. He’s alright then?”

“Yeah, he’s getting better. It’s just a fever. But we will talk more tomorrow, okay, hyung?”

“Yeah, yeah. Good night, Jjong-bear.”

“Good night, Young-ie.”

Sleep never found him that night. 

Wooyoung tossed and turned until the birds chirped and morning light filled the room. He couldn’t get his mind to rest. It kept replaying all the memories, new as well as old, but the one stuck on a loop was the most recent. 

They didn’t get their happy ending. 

Despite finally confessing, laying themselves bare in the most desperate of times, they still couldn’t be together. Then there was the kiss. It wasn’t sweet or wholesome, but a last resort of showing their affection and trying to convey what words couldn’t. 

A thousand years later, when their souls were trapped in other bodies, it seemed like they wouldn’t get one either. Wooyoung wondered how many lifetimes had passed and how many promises their souls had broken. 

He forced himself to lie there until the clock struck at least seven. It seemed like a respectable hour to get up and make breakfast. It was the least he could do after barging in a crying mess.

Soon enough, the aroma of fresh eggs, bacon and chicken soup filled the apartment, though it did nothing to awaken his appetite. On the contrary, it made him feel sick to his stomach. 

How couldn’t he? The foundation he and San struggled to build all those years ago crumbled to nothing as Wooyoung practically ran away. That wasn’t even the tipping point. It was the fact that San didn’t even try to stop him. He just let it happen. Much like his past self, he put Wooyoung’s well-being over his own. 

“That smells amazing.”

Wooyoung jumped in place by the stove, the eggs sputtering in the pan and the spatula nearly dropping to the floor. Jongho scratched the back of his head, his face still damp and hair tied into a ridiculous little pigtail on top.

“It’s almost done. Is Yeosang awake?”

“Mmm, he’s getting there. I left the door open so the smell of food will wake him eventually.”

“Okay, good.”

Jongho set the table while Wooyoung finished the last of the breakfast.

“You managed to sleep out there? I know the sofa isn’t the most comfortable.”

Wooyoung turned off the stove and placed the eggs on the table.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’d be okay with crashing on the floor too.”

“Right, as if Yeosang would ever let that go.”

“Yeosang would ever let go of what?”

The man stood in the kitchen doorway, eyes half-lidded and hair a tousled mess. His cheeks were tinged pink, likely still running a fever. Faint pillow lines creased his bare face, and his baby-blue pajamas were disheveled, one pant leg bunched at the knee and a few shirt buttons undone.

“If we ate breakfast without you,” Wooyoung quickly replied, “go wash up and join us. I’ve made chicken soup.”

Yeosang perked up at that and turned on his heel without much protest. The sound of water running and the bathroom door locking allowed the remaining two to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Good save there.”

“Be quiet and take out the orange juice from the fridge,” Wooyoung ordered.

The toilet flushed and Yeosang returned, looking much more awake. He cautiously entered the kitchen and took a seat by the round table, his eyes darting from Wooyoung to Jongho and back again.

“Why are you here at…” He glanced at the clock above the entrance. “Nine in the morning, making us breakfast?”

Wooyoung clicked his tongue and poured everyone a bowl of chicken soup before filling his own.

“Of course you don’t remember. You called me in the dead of night, complaining about being sick and that Jongho left you alone.”

Yeosang lingered a moment too long on Wooyoung, longer than he could handle, so Wooyoung turned toward the fridge, pretending to search for something. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed the puffiness around Wooyoung’s eyes or the blotchy redness on his skin. 

Right as Wooyoung thought he’d point it out, the conversation continued without changing course. 

“I called you?”

“Yep. Multiple times, actually. Even sent me some messages.” 

Wooyoung placed the ketchup on the table and joined them. Yeosang fished his phone out of his pajama pocket and scrolled through the recent messages and call history.

“I have no memory of this… How embarrassing.” He smiled. “And you still came?”

“Of course, I thought you were alone. Go on, eat. You need to rest more.”

“Okay… Mom.”

Wooyoung offered a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and he knew Yeosang noticed. After all, Yeosang noticed everything. But he didn’t say anything, maybe because he understood this wasn’t a conversation to have over breakfast. Or he wanted to save Wooyoung the embarrassment of talking about his feelings with Yeosang’s boyfriend present. Either way, Wooyoung couldn’t have been more thankful.

“Wait, if I called you in the middle of the night. When did you buy all these things?”

“Well, I went in the middle of the night.”

Wooyoung froze mid bite. The realisation dawned on him and the scrambled eggs nearly got stuck in his throat. 

“Oh, I’m such an idiot…”

“What?” Yeosang and Jongho said in unison, the latter through a mouth full of food.

“I forgot to pay. For the stuff at the 7-eleven, I just left.” 

Wooyoung buried his face in his hands. Not only did he run out of the store, which was already embarrassing enough, but he literally stole a whole bunch of stuff. What a great first (and last) impression he left on his soulmate.

“How did you manage to do that? Weren't there any workers?” Yeosang asked.

The table fell quiet for a moment. Suddenly, it felt like the entire world was waiting for his answer.

“Wooyoung–”

“Honey, give him a few minutes.”

Jongho reached over and gently patted Yeosang’s hand, resting tensely on the table, chopsticks gripped tightly between his fingers. Yeosang didn’t question it, though worry and curiosity were evident in his features.

Wooyoung dragged his fingers down his face before pressing it into his palms, squishing his cheeks until his lips popped. He avoided the others’ gazes like a child afraid to be scolded of its parents.

“I met my soulmate last night.” Wooyoung paused, he briefly glanced up at Yeosang whose expression changed from worry to surprise. “It happened as I was going to pay. I, uh, I panicked and ran out of the store.”

A pin dropped and so did Yeosang’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, did you just say that you left your soulmate? Wooyoung…”

“I know, I know!” He drove the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m so fucking stupid… But I saw his face and my head just went quiet and then I got a memory, it’s the worst one out of them all, Sangie. And– and then you were sick and needed help. Not that I’m blaming you! But it was too much and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t expect to meet him there out of all the places in the world!”

“Okay, Woo, calm down–” 

Wooyoung dropped his arms flat on the table. Jongho was immediately cut off.

“Oh God, I need to move out of the neighbourhood. I can never go to that store again, like never ever again. What if they press charges or even worse, make a scene in front of everyone.” 

“Can you jus–”

And so was Yeosang.

“And what if I run into him again? My soulmate, I mean, that would be, fuck, that would be horrible.”

“Wooyoung!” They both shouted.

He immediately went quiet, their combined voices ringing through the apartment. It was easy for his thoughts to spiral and once Wooyoung started rambling, there was rarely anyone that could stop him. His chest heaved up and down as if he’d ran a marathon and the glass of orange juice looked really appetizing.

“You won’t manage any of that if you don’t breathe,” Jongho joked, coaxing a small smile out of Wooyoung.

“And you definitely won’t do anything alone either,” Yeosang added. “We’ll help you.”

The orange juice was downed in three big gulps, Wooyoung groaning in satisfaction. “No way. You are still sick, Sang-ie and I need to cover your shift at the shop and–”

“You can’t ask any of the others to jump in?”

“There’s no point, they’ll all just decline,” Yeosang answered for him.

“Yeah, Yeosang  and I can always cover everyone else, but God forbid if either of us get sick or need a day off.”

“Shitty colleagues,” Jongho muttered and began collecting plates to the sink.

“It’s whatever. I’d rather work than mope around all day, at least the flowers and customers can keep me distracted and then I can just pass out at home.”

“That’s an awful idea.” Yeosang stood up to help Jongho, but was immediately pushed back down in his seat with two halves of an apple on a smaller plate.

“It’s the only thing I can come up with and I can’t not open the shop. I mean, the last time we had it closed was when grandma passed away… and it would just feel like I’m letting her down.”

“You know that’s not true. Wooyoung, you shouldn’t think like that at all.”

“I shouldn’t be doing a lot of things, but I’ve already fucked up like three times in the span of twenty-four hours.”

“Three times? What was the third one?”

“Jongho?!”

“...I was so inside my head that I may or may not have forgotten to take my car.”

“You walked here?!”

“Could you both stop yelling at me at the same time?!”

“Right, sorry,” Jongho sheepishly apologized and started soaking the dishes.

Yeosang rubbed his temple, the sliced apple abandoned on the table while Wooyoung nibbled on the inside of his lip.

“Okay… we’ll fix this. One step at a time.” Jongho’s voice stayed even. “I can drive you home, but first we’ll stop by the 7-eleven.” 

Wooyoung parted his lips to protest, but Yeosang was faster.

“The cashier isn’t going to press charges, Woo, you can just go back and pay. Say you weren’t feeling well. I doubt he even cares.”

“Okay and then what?”

“And then you’re going to work like any other day and help customers with their bouquets. Your soulmate hasn’t vanished off the face of earth, Woo. He’ll show up again. When you least expect it.”

“Right…”

Following Yeosang’s plan, Wooyoung stood before the young cashier from the night before. He didn’t seem excited in the least. He was probably fed up with the long shift, running on no sleep and then having to deal with people like Wooyoung. 

“He already paid for it.”

“What?”

He sighed and fiddled with something on the register. “The handsome guy, he paid for your things after you left.”

Wooyoung just stood there gaping like a fish. The guilt and regret was already eating him up from the inside, this revelation didn’t make it any better whatsoever. 

“He paid?!”

“...Yes. Someone had to pay.”

A smack to the back of the head would do the kid wonders, but Wooyoung really didn’t need more problems in his life. Instead, he sucked in a quick breath through his teeth and pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Okay, thank you.” 

With a small bow and hurried steps, he left the shop, but under different circumstances since last time. The ₩50,000 bill burned in the pocket of his pants and his thoughts spiraled with quiet anxiety. First, he runs out on his soulmate. Secondly, he unintentionally makes him pay for his things that were for his friends. This was getting embarrassing on so many different levels and if he were to ever see the man again, Wooyoung wouldn’t know what to apologize for first.

“Just get to work,” he muttered to himself.

Ten hours. That’s all he had to endure before he could return to the safety of his home. It was nothing, he told himself. The double twelve hour shifts he worked at a coffee shop when he first moved to Seoul had prepared him for this. Arranging flowers was therapeutic in some way. At least flowers didn’t complain like half-dead customers desperate for their iced americanos.

Wooyoung moved like a puppet on strings as muscle memory took over, allowing his mind to drift into a dark abyss of nothing. He swept the floors, changed the water in the buckets, started the cashier register and even drew a new sign on the portable chalkboard. All in time for the doors to be unlocked.

Leaning against the counter, Wooyoung clasped his hands together and let his gaze drift across the empty shop. It was going to be a long day. He rested his lips against his intertwined knuckles, and just let the thoughts multiply.

 It had to be self-destruction. There was no other reasonable explanation for his actions. Everything he did, all of his choices ended up hurting himself. Wooyoung hadn’t felt this lost and confused since he left his childhood home and it was a feeling he didn’t miss at all.

“You really are a walking disaster, Wooyoung, huh,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair until the two-colored strands fell into a mess.

He would need to get it touched up soon. The dark roots were starting to bloom and it wouldn't take long until he resembled a skunk. Wooyoung reached for a piece of his hair and twisted it between his pointer- and middle finger. While he was at it, he could also give it a little trim. The weather was getting warmer by day and the hair would just be in the way.

With time to kill, Wooyoung sent a quick text to Mingi. Although the giant didn’t take any courses in hair styling, he had experimented one too many nights on himself to learn how to cut hair. His shoulders slumped as he looked at the time on his phone. Fifteen minutes passed since they officially opened.

It was going to be a long day.

A long day alone with his thoughts. Usually, he’d enjoy the lack of customers and replace the silence with music, but he wasn’t in the mood for it.

The chime of the bell had him snapping his head toward the entrance. It was an elderly woman. Wooyoung offered her a gentle smile and bow. Soon enough, more and more people dropped by one after another. Some needed help and advice while others knew exactly what they wanted. He used the dead time between customers to arrange different bouquets and sell them for an outrageous price. 

The thoughts about his soulmate didn’t disappear, they lingered in the far back of his head and popped up when he least expected it. Like when the little boy that was buying flowers with his dad smiled and a set of deep pimples formed in his chubby cheeks or when the clique of teenagers stumbled inside, one of them falling short and his friend paying for it all. Wooyoung wondered if small interactions with strangers would remind him of his soulmate until the end of time.  

He’d be royally screwed. 

It was a calm and steady two hours at first, but then it was as if the universe heard his complaints and steered every person walking down the street inside the flower shop. As if that wasn’t enough, almost every customer needed his help. Wooyoung could barely catch his breath, but what really got on his nerves were the people entering a few minutes to closing. The working hours were literally taped to the door. Sometimes he wondered if people were genuinely dumb or just ignorant. Neither answer would surprise him.

Wooyoung’s customer-service-smile fell as soon as the last person left. If he had to say ‘we are closing in a few’ one more time, he’d lose his mind. 

Tired, hungry and annoyed, Wooyoung immediately got to work. He cleaned the counter, closed the cashier register, emptied the buckets that only had water and refilled the ones still holding flowers. The chalkboard was by the entrance and the only thing left to do was sweep the floors (again). 

While in the storageroom, the jingle of the door sounded through the entire shop and Wooyoung’s heart dropped to his ass. 

Of course he forgot to fucking lock the door. He dropped the bucket back in the sink and was inconveniently splashed by the water sloshing around. 

“Damn it,” he cursed and untied the apron, throwing it across the room. 

He had to channel his anger somewhere that wasn’t the person standing on the other side of the door. Wooyoung pushed it open with the words already catapulting from his tongue.

“I’m so sorry, but we are actually close–”

The sentence got caught in his throat as he stared into a pair of eyes he could recognize like the back of his hand. Dread and nausea slammed against the walls of his stomach, and although he could feel bile climb upwards, he didn’t close his mouth.

What the double twelve hour shifts at the coffee shop didn’t prepare him for was standing face to face with his soulmate less than a day after their first encounter. 

San stood in the center of the shop and was completely out of place surrounded by colorful flowers while wearing not-so-colorful clothes. A burgundy leather jacket hung from his already broad shoulders. The pants were a stark contrast to the black tank top beneath his jacket, grey with white stripes that looked more like part of a pyjama set than something meant for everyday wear.

His arms were held behind his back, chest puffed out and posture straight. Surprise flashed across his features, but quickly melted into softness. His sharp eyes relaxed as his lips curved in a gentle smile.

Cautiously, he stepped forward so as not to spook Wooyoung, angling his body to appear smaller. 

“Hello,” San said softly, the word barely above a whisper. “It’s nice to meet you, again.”

Wooyoung couldn’t move a muscle nor could he come up with anything to say. It was completely empty up there.

“My name is Choi San.”

“I know,” Wooyoung answered without thinking. He quickly clasped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry–”

San chuckled and Wooyoung glued his lips together. 

“Don’t be. What’s your name?”

“...Jung Wooyoung.”

“It’s beautiful.”

The compliment was so quiet it wasn’t meant for Wooyoung to hear, but he did. Heat rushed to his ears and he shied away from San’s gaze. 

“You said you were closing?”

Wooyoung could only get himself to nod. 

“Okay… Can I at least buy some flowers?”

“I… Y–Yeah, of course.”

San had every right to be upset. It was a surprise he hadn’t stormed out already or cussed Wooyoung out. On the contrary, he hadn’t mentioned anything about them being soulmates or Wooyoung running away or that he paid for his things. Nothing! Instead, he was giving compliments and buying flowers late at night.

“Sweet. Could you maybe help me? It will go faster with your help.”

Wooyoung slipped into his professional role and walked around the counter. It took everything in him not to cower beneath San’s stare.

“Yes. Is the bouquet for a special occasion?”

“Mmm, you could say so. It’s for someone I wish to get closer to, but I don’t want to scare them.”

The curiosity grew in his chest and Wooyoung knew he had no right to ask who the person was, but God did he want to know. What kind of person could’ve left such an impression on his soulmate that he wanted to buy them flowers?

“Are there any colors you wish to include or do you want me to just… create something close to that?”

San smiled, the one that made his eyes disappear and lips curl in an upside down three. “You’re the expert. Feel free to go wild.”

Wooyoung nodded. It was nerve wracking working beneath San’s heavy eyes. He could feel it burning into the side of his head, but refused to let it show. Instead he kept his entire attention on the flowers. 

He eyed the bunch of daisies having yet to bloom before reaching for the bright primroses as well. The colors worked well together and they would get San’s message right across, but the arrangement still lacked something. 

Roses were too romantic, even cliche to be honest, and tulips didn’t fit the shape of the remaining flowers. Baby’s breaths were great fillers, but weren’t needed as they had primroses.

Lilies. Tall, elegant white lilies would be perfect. 

Wooyoung added them without hesitation, the meaning of each choice settling in his mind. 

Content with his choices, he turned to San. Wooyoung’s breath hitched in his throat as the gleeful expression was gone, replaced by awe and a gentleness that made his chest tighten. The haze San found himself in cleared as Wooyoung caught him staring.

“Hm? Oh!” San shook his head, as if snapping out of it. “Those are beautiful! You really know what you’re doing, huh?”

“Thank you… Let me wrap them for you.”

“Could you explain what they mean?”

Wooyoung resumed his spot behind the counter and San took the other side. As he began cleaning the stems and preparing the ribbons, he picked up a lily. “These stand for sincerity, peace, and a fresh start.” He held up a daisy next. “And these stand for innocence and new beginnings.”

Eventually, he began weaving the primroses between the daisies and lilies. “And last but not least, the primrose means young, enduring love.”

“Primrose, like the Hunger Games character?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung said with a small smile and began tying the stems together with a white and orange ribbon. “Exactly like the Hunger Games character. There you go.”

San accepted the bouquet. “Wow. You are amazing.”

Wooyoung tidied the counter to keep himself from looking at San and show how much of an effect his words had on him. “...It’s nothing.”

“What? Come on. That’s not right. I’ve literally held you behind closing time.”

“...And I walked out on you last night and made you pay for my stuff. It’s not much and it’s not right, but see it as us becoming even.”

“Wooyoung-ssi.” He wasn’t used to hearing that voice take on a stern tone. “I understand our first meeting wasn’t ideal and while it was unexpected, I don’t hold it against you. We all have our own things to deal with, so please don’t think like that. Not when it comes to me.”

“Oh…kay.”

“Great. Here you go.” San returned the bouquet. 

Wooyoung switched shooting glances between the arrangement and San’s face.

“I… don’t understand?”

“They are for you.”

“...Me?”

San did a show of glancing around. “I don’t see anyone else here, but you and me.”

“But what about the person you wanted to get to know?”

It was when San didn’t budge that everything fell in place.

“Oh…”

San nudged the flowers into Wooyoung’s hands. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Wooyoung-ssi. Is it alright if I come by some time? We can maybe…” He scratched the back of his head and suddenly found the counter very interesting. “Get a bite or go out for some coffee?”

Wooyoung nodded because he was once again speechless. 

“Cool, cool.” San buried his hands in the pockets of his pants. The confident, straightforward man was gone and replaced by someone nervous and fidgety. “I’ll see you around then?”

“Ye–Yeah, see you around. Definitely.”

San gave him one last wave and left. Wooyoung couldn’t help following his retreating figure. He had the excuse of having to lock the doors and on second thought, to hell with being afraid of coming off as a creep. 

His soulmate looked on both sides of the road before crossing and Wooyoung audibly gasped as he entered Crazy Form. It hadn’t been a coincidence. Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s San was also Wooyoung’s San. 

The universe really worked in mysterious ways.

Mingi angled Wooyoung’s head downwards.

“Keep still or you’ll get dye in your eyes.”

The bathroom was probably the worst place to do this and adding a kitchen chair and two grown men in the cramped space didn’t make the process any easier, but Wooyoung refused to dye his hair anywhere else. He knew the entire apartment would look like a murder scene straight out of a horror movie. He learned his lesson the last time…

“You are really going for a neutral color, Woo,” Yeosang said, his face squeezed into the small video call screen on Mingi’s phone, which was propped up on the bathroom sink.

The poor guy was still home nursing a fever, but the other two still figured a way to include him in their shenanigans. Besides, Wooyoung needed all the advice he could get.

“Yeah, you know what they say. New Year, new me.”

“It’s literally the middle of April, dude.” 

“And I have been reborn?”

Mingi clicked his tongue, but his open mouth smile didn’t reflect a smidge of annoyance. 

“I thought you were never going to dye it at home after what happened last time.”

“No, I said I’m never dying it red again. Besides, it’s cheaper this way and we have grown smarter since last time. I’m shirtless, the pants are really old and tattered, the rug and all the towels are in the living room. And Mingi has practiced, right?”

The man hummed and dipped the tint brush in the mixing bowl, scooping up some more product that he evenly spread on Wooyoung’s head. 

“Yup, someone has to help you look ready for your date with San.” 

A giggle erupted from the phone in time with Wooyoung’s embarrassed yelling.

“Hey! I’m not doing this for him and we are not going on a date!” 

“No, no! You all made fun of me weeks ago, now it’s my turn. It’s payback time, assholes.”

Eventually, his entire hair was covered in red dye. Mingi secured a black towel around his shoulders and slumped inside Wooyoung’s bathtub. 

“It’s crazy how he’s been across from us this entire time. Like, we could’ve literally stumbled into him that day.”

“Didn’t you think that maybe their San was the San from your memories?” Mingi asked. 

“I did, but I believed it was too much of a coincidence. What? I hear his name once and all of a sudden there’s a person working across the street from me with the same name, and I’m just supposed to believe he’s the one?”

“Yes!”

“Yes!”

“Okay! But I didn’t and here we are.”

“Getting glammed up for your date.”

“Not a date, Mingi!”

“I can’t believe he bought you flowers… He’s a real charmer.”

“You have no idea,” Wooyoung mumbled, his thoughts slipping back to every small, chivalrous thing San had done. Both in this and the previous life. 

He threw an eye at the door and smiled as he caught sight of the yellow bouquet. It sat neatly on the entryway table in a white, crystal-like vase.

“Yeah? Then you can tell us all about it after your da–” One glance from Wooyoung was enough to make Mingi swallow the word. “Outing. Get up, it’s time to rinse it.”

“Have you decided when you are going to meet him?”

Mingi hopped out of the tub and fiddled with the water while Wooyoung was creating a makeshift headrest with extra towels.

“No…”

“Have you at least given it a thought?”

Wooyoung stayed silent. 

Of course he had given it a thought. It was the only thing keeping him from sleeping at night. 

Did he just walk up to Crazy Form and demand to see him again? 

What if he wasn’t there and Seonghwa or Hongjoong came out instead? 

Did they know? 

Would they hate him for it?

Wooyoung couldn’t stop thinking about the endless possibilities. Somewhere along the way of trying to muster the courage to live up to his promise, he was side tracked by the memory of San’s pretty dimples, striking eyes and that billion dollar smile. So yes, he gave it a thought, but it led him nowhere. 

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And I have nothing. It’s not like I can just go to Crazy Form demanding to see him.”

Mingi directed the stream of water through his hair. “What else can you do? You didn’t exchange phone numbers and you know for certain that he’s at the tattoo parlour at least a few hours a day. That is the best and probably only thing to do.”

“I’m with Mingi on this one. He’s left everything in your hands, Woo. You have to go there.”

Two days passed since their little get together and three days since Wooyoung last saw San. Yeosang and Mingi were both tormenting him with calls and messages asking if he’s finally dared to cross the street or not. It got to a point where he had to mute their chats. But their constant nagging spiked the already growing anxiety in him which explained why he was standing outside Crazy Form.

The robotic beep went off as soon as Wooyoung stepped through the entryway and an excited Seonghwa spawned out of nowhere. He was dressed in pink from head to toe and it wasn’t the soft kind. No, it was something straight out of a Bratz scene. 

“Wooyoung-ie! Hi!”

The florist was pulled into a crushing embrace, his own arms sliding around Seonghwa’s waist without thinking. 

“Your hair! It looks so good!” 

Seonghwa ran his fingers through the black strands and Wooyoung fought the blush from staining his cheeks. 

A little nip pinched his side and he jumped away from the hug with a funny sound choking in his throat.

“And that’s for not coming over sooner!”

“I’m sorry?!”

“Yeah, you will be,” Seonghwa muttered, and for a split second, Wooyoung thought he saw thunder flash in the elder’s eyes. The storm cleared the moment Hongjoong’s voice drifted through the air.

“Darling, who are you threatening?”

“No one, Joongie!”

As expected, it didn’t take long for him to appear from around the corner. The furrow in his brows and the way he worried his lip between his teeth melted into a wide smile, his eyebrows lifting to his hairline at the sight of Wooyoung.

“Wooyoung-ah!” Hongjoong exclaimed. “We thought we scared you off for good.”

They exchanged a weird but oddly satisfying handshake.

“That’s entirely on you,” Seonghwa chimed. “I knew we should’ve waited a bit longer in telling him.”

“It played out well in the end. I mean, he’s here!”

At this point, Wooyoung had entirely flushed red.

“You guys done yet?”

The three men turned toward the voice. San was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest and ankles crossed casually. The black compression shirt stuck to his body like glue, outlining every hard line of muscle. Wooyoung’s face burned as his gaze jumped from San’s bulging biceps to his strong thighs, then up at his annoyed but oh-so-very hot expression.

“San-ie! Look what we found.” 

Seonghwa slung an arm around Wooyoung’s neck, pulling him closer until their heads nudged together.

“I see.” His lips pressing into a thin line curled into a smirk that looked downright devilish. “Can you let go of my soulmate now?”

Wooyoung grew stiff beneath Seonghwa's hold. It was getting incredibly warm. 

“Of course.” 

Seonghwa’s tongue slipped out to trace the sharp edge of his canine tooth, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in quiet amusement as he removed his hold on Wooyoung. A glint of mischief shimmered in his round eyes, clearly happy with his plotting. Wooyoung on the other hand wanted to run out and never ever come back again. But he couldn’t do that a second time around, so instead he awkwardly smiled and shuffled over to where San was standing. 

San immediately softened the moment Wooyoung came to stand beside him.

“Hey,” he whispered, ducking his head to meet Wooyoung’s eyes. The gentleness of his voice might’ve sounded timid if Wooyoung didn’t already know just how bold San could be.

Wooyoung flicked the tip of his nose and stared off to the side. “Hey, hi.”

“You came.”

“Yeah.” Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Thought we could get that coffee you were talking about.”

“Sweet, let me just clean up in the back. Come with me?”

“Sure,” Wooyoung replied, though what he really wanted to say was always.

“Are you seeing this Joong-ie?”

“Darling…”

Wooyoung imagined Hongjoong wrapping an arm around Seonghwa’s waist, pulling the taller man close while looking up at him with the most lovesick eyes ever. Seonghwa probably fell comfortably against his side like two missing puzzle pieces. 

The heat of San’s hand hovering over Wooyoung’s lower back spread like a wildfire up his spine. He was so close to touching, but San was never one to overstep. The two moved in sync toward, what Wooyoung assumed to be, San’s workspace. The thought was confirmed as his soulmate pushed the ajar door open wider.

“You better keep the door open at all tim–”

San shut it with a loud click which was followed by a sigh of relief. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he murmured, but Wooyoung was too busy drinking in the studio to register the apology.

Everything about the room was so San. 

The interior was all black and bounced gently off the white walls. The floor mirrored it in large, glossy tiles that reflected the light. A window stretched nearly wall to wall from across the entrance, offering a perfect view of the flower shop. Wooyoung didn’t remember ever seeing this room before, but the drawn-back curtains explained why. A single black chair for patients stood in the center of the room. To the left of the entrance sat an L-shaped desk pushed in the corner, clearly San’s workspace. Small plants and figurines were placed on the shelves mounted above the desk. 

Wooyoung stepped further inside. It felt more spacious than Hongjoong’s, maybe because it wasn’t as crowded. Below the window along the entire side was a slab decorated with white cushions and blankets. Some random magazines were laid there too. There was a big plant in the corner, stretching tall enough to almost reach the ceiling. 

As he turned toward San, a large three-panel painting hanging on the right wall caught his attention. Black-and-white mountains covered the entire canvas. A light smile curved his lips. Cute, he thought.

“You changed your hair. It’s nice.”

His cheeks burned from how wide his grin had grown and he subconsciously reached up, twirling a strand between his fingers. “Thank you, the roots were showing so it was about time to get it done.”

San hummed and moved closer to Wooyoung, his hands buried in the pockets of his pants. 

“I didn’t know you guys had a window here.”

“Yeah.” San shuffled closer to Wooyoung and half-sat on the tattoo bed, one leg keeping him grounded. “I usually keep them closed, but have had them open since I saw you that night.”

Wooyoung’s head snapped toward San.

“At first I was going to ignore it. I didn’t want to scare you again. But considering I never have them open, I figured it had to be something. Like fate, maybe.”

“San–”

“Don’t feel pressure to tell me what happened. I would never want that for anyone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine–”

“But it’s not. It’s really not. I…” Wooyoung buried his face in his hands and groaned. “It’s so dumb.”

San remained quiet and it scared Wooyoung. How could he explain why he ran when he himself didn’t even have the answer. 

“I don’t think anything is dumb. Least of all my soulmate.” San offered a derpy smile. “It’s scary meeting your supposed other half. I get it, I do. I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest in that 7-eleven.”

In the smallest voice known to man-kind, Wooyoung asked, “Really?”

“Oh, a hundred percent! But then you walked out and everything became quiet again. Until I realized that my other half just left and I had no way of contacting him.” 

They broke out in gentle laughter. There was still an uneasy ball of anxiety rolling in Wooyoung’s stomach, but being around San lightened the mood. Besides, his worry proved to be useless as San shut every negative comment down with his easy going personality.  

“But it all worked out anyway because now you’re here.”

“Now I’m here,” Wooyoung parroted and mirrored San’s stance. 

He cleared his throat and wrung his fingers against each other. He lowered his head as his heart thundered in his ears. San dipped his head and searched for Wooyoung’s gaze, his lips stretching into a wide smile and face softening until his eyes nearly disappeared as they met. 

“Do you wanna see what I’m working on?”

“…Sure.” 

It all felt like a fever dream. Sitting and talking with his soulmate as if he hadn’t ran out on him. The conversation came easy with a few heart palpitations and burning cheeks, but nothing Wooyoung couldn’t handle. He had talked to a couple of cute guys before, although not one could be compared with San.

They moved to his station. Stencils and sketches lay scattered across the desk, each sheet marked with a different design. San ignored the mess, pulling out the chair and dropping into it. Wooyoung lingered awkwardly off to the side while San logged into his tablet. The desktop flickered to life, mirroring the screen in his hands.

“This is the latest design I worked on. The customer wants a tattoo of yin and yang, but with a twist. She asked for it to be subtle.”

The screen showed a picture of two koi fish chasing each other’s tails. The design wasn’t anything flashy, blending fine line work with soft shading. He really managed to capture her wishes perfectly.

“That’s so cool,” Wooyoung breathed as he leaned down for a better look, not realizing how close he’d moved to San.

“Eh, it’s okay.”

“Okay?! Wow, hah. If that’s just okay then I don’t even wanna know what amazing is in your eyes.”

San laughed, the apples of his cheeks turning pink, and the sound lit a fire in Wooyoung’s chest.

“Call me biased, but it would be my own tattoos.”

Wooyoung couldnät decide what revelation was worse. That San had tattoos or the fact he did them himself.

“You made your own tattoos?”

“I made the design, but Hongjoong-hyung actually tattooed them.”

“Them? As in plural?”

San choked out a laugh and Wooyoung didn’t realize he said that outloud. How embarrassing. He looked away, but it did nothing to hide the redness attacking his face.

“Well, yeah. It’s pretty addictive, but I haven’t gotten a new one in years. It’s painful… I’ve got one running from my shoulder down to my forearm.” San gestured along his arm. “It’s a sleeve of spider lilies. And here–” he tapped the inside of his bicep, “–I’ve got a mountain. You know, my name.”

It didn’t stop there. 

“Then along my spine I have the different phases of the moon. But that’s it so far.”

He did everything to shake away the image of a heavily tattooed San. There was no point in denying his awesome physique. Even with clothes covering ninety percent of his body, Wooyoung could still make out the toned muscles beneath. This time, he held his tongue and didn't let the question of seeing his tattoos slip out.

“Do you have any?”

“Hm?”

“Tattoos. Do you have any tattoos?”

“No. I’m as boring as a white canvas.”

“That’s not boring. We are all different. Even an empty canvas is art at the end of the day… Though it would be an honor to help you with a design or tattoo you. Only if you want to!”

The confession knocked the wind out of Wooyoung and he had to turn away. He couldn’t let San see the effect he had on him, besides he didn’t know how to react to those words either. 

Tattoos weren’t something he gave a thought to. It wasn’t in his budget nor future plans to get a permanent drawing on his body. He would have to really sit down and figure out what he could possibly get. There were a few cool ideas just from the top of his head, but it was too big of a decision to do in a matter of seconds.

“I will keep that in mind.”

Wooyoung leaned against the tattoo bed. It was easier breathing with a bit of space between them, although he couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull wanting him glued to San at all times. The relief was short-lived. San swiveled in his chair, legs spread comfortably and sitting low in the seat, then pushed himself up and stopped before Wooyoung. Even just being under his gaze made it hard to breathe.

San held out his hand and waited patiently for Wooyoung to take it. Flowers bloomed in his stomach with a thousand butterflies fluttering around them as Wooyoung put his hand in San’s. It was swallowed whole and enveloped in a warmth that felt just right. San was gentle as ever as if Wooyoung would crumble at a mere squeeze. 

“Let’s go get that coffee.”

The pair managed to leave Crazy Form without alerting either Seonghwa or Hongjoong. Who knew how long those two would’ve kept them there with their teasing and Seonghwa’s curious questions. San even snagged the keys to Hongjoong’s car, though he did text him about it first. Wooyoung sucked in his lips and blushed deeply as San opened the door for him. He quickly hid his face in his hands, letting out a small squeak, before forcing himself to compose his expression as San rounded the car and got behind the steering wheel as well.

Inside the coffee shop that San had deemed the best in Seoul, Wooyoung searched for a secluded spot while San stood in line. Luckily, he found a table tucked further inside, shielded by a bookcase and large plants. San returned a few minutes later with two iced americanos and a slice of strawberry shortcake.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask what cake you’d like, but I hope this one’s alright.”

“You didn’t need to, I already said we’d split everything.”

“The only thing I am willing to split is the food.”

If you asked Wooyoung from a week ago, what he would do after meeting his soulmate, his answer surely wouldn’t be drinking iced americano and sharing a strawberry shortcake. 

He took a long sip of his cold drink and got comfortable. A loud groan of satisfaction almost slipped out, but he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, pretending to wipe it.

“It’s delicious.”

San smiled, “It’s my favorite place to get coffee. They are the best. Just wait until you try their desserts. Their tiramisu is also amazing.”

They sat there for a good two or three hours, talking about everything. San already showed he was an easy-going guy, but it never ceased to amaze Wooyoung. Instead of bashing him for running away and ruining their first encounter, San did his best to get to know Wooyoung. Asking about everything beneath heaven and earth. From his favorite color to his shoe size.

“Why did you become a tattoo artist?” Wooyoung asked.

“I don’t know.” San sipped on his coffee. “I wasn’t doing well in school, it was never really my thing. So I got to work at my dad’s restaurant back in Namhae, but I couldn’t come to terms with cooking for the rest of my life. It just… felt like there had to be something else for me.

“I couldn’t find anything in Namhae. It’s quite a small town and everyone knew me as Jiwon’s son. No one wanted to hire me out of respect for him. I guess they didn’t want to go behind my dad’s back. So I left. Moved to Anyang and started begging for jobs… not my proudest moment, but that’s how I met Seonghwa-hyung and Hongjoong-hyung. They were the only ones willing to give me a chance.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.” San squeezed the plastic cup and fiddled with the lid. “I mean, it was probably Seonghwa-hyung who convinced him to let me help.” He laughed. “I did all the dirty work, cleaning up, ordering supplies, dealing with customers, both the good and the bad. All the boring stuff no one else wanted to do.” 

There was a quiet happiness in his eyes as he thought back on the hardships, memories that still meant a lot to him.

“Hongjoong-hyung was pretty… wary of me, which I get. I’d be careful too, letting someone like me into my business. He’d just opened his first parlour in Anyang, so they needed cheap help and… I guess desperation goes both ways. 

“After a while, they started teaching me how to actually contribute. Seonghwa-hyung showed me all kinds of piercings, even signed me up for courses while Hongjoong-hyung taught me how to tattoo. I swear, I must’ve spent a thousand hours just practicing straight lines.”

“Wow, that’s…”

“Tough, but we got through it. It’s all in the past now and my parents are fine with it. I think they love Seonghwa-hyung and Hongjoong-hyung more than me. They’ve invited us over numerous times… Mom can text me asking about those two and if they’ve eaten. Anyways, that’s enough about me. I’d like to know more about you.”

Wooyoung sat up straighter. “Hehe, what do you wanna know?”

“I’d say everything, but we’ll have more time together to figure that out. How come you became a florist?”

He shrugged. “It was a business owned by my late grandmother. I worked there since I could remember, even skipping school to help her. After she passed, my parents wanted to sell it. Basically get rid of the shop. They said it was too much of a hassle to handle.”

“Why didn’t they?” San asked.

“She wrote it on my name. She made me the co-owner a little bit before she passed.” Wooyoung chuckled. “My parents were livid. They tried to force me to sell it and create a ‘worthwhile’ business with it instead… As you can see, I didn’t. I left shortly after that. Haven’t spoken to them since.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I’m used to it.” Wooyoung looked up at San, a lopsided smile on his face that showed anything but happiness.

The silence that followed made him regret ever opening his mouth. There was a happy ending to San’s story, but Wooyoung’s past just killed the mood. What could one even say after that?

He drank from his beverage to keep his mouth busy while trying to think of something else to say. Nothing came to mind and he made peace with the fact they would have to sit in an awkward bubble.

“You know, I actually always planned to take my soulmate out on a real first date.”

The confession brought Wooyoung back. He chewed absentmindedly on the straw before putting it back down on the table.

“I’d pick them up from home and gift them flowers. The first stop would be a candle lit dinner in a fancy restaurant. We’d get dessert or ice cream by the Han river while walking until our legs would give out.” 

“What if they want to pick you up?” 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but if I’m asking them out, then I’d like to be the one driving. It’s really all about making my partner feel good.”

“G–Good?”

Heat attacked San’s ears, a sight Wooyoung found endearing if he wasn’t busy trying to empty his head of non-friendly images of the two. 

“N–Not like that! I mean being a gentleman! Holding doors open, paying for the date, giving them my jacket if they’re cold, just… acts of kindness!”

Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Of course! That’s what I thought too!”

“Aish, Wooyoung-ah, you really are something.”

A pause stretched between them. 

Then, in what had to be the most timid voice known to mankind, Wooyoung asked, “...In a good or bad way?”

Because although he was spending time with his other half, that gnawing thought that he wasn’t anything worth wanting still dragged him toward all the darkest parts of his mind.

“In the best way possible.”

Even in the darkest places, there was always a light waiting at the end. For Wooyoung, that light took the shape of San.

People said that once you fell in love, you were never seen without your partner. Wooyoung had always sworn that it wouldn't be him. That his life and personality wouldn’t orbit around one single person. Yet everyday following their date-not-date at the coffee shop made them inseparable. 

Whenever San got some free time between work, he’d come over to the flower shop and stay there until the very last second. It consisted of him mostly following Wooyoung around like a love-sick puppy and listening to him talk about everything and nothing. Sometimes San helped with simple tasks, such as carrying buckets or replenishing flowers. He even got along with Yeosang and Mingi, a little too much for Wooyoung’s liking. 

Wooyoung wasn’t any better. He’d made it his life mission to feed all employees of Crazy Form. Every day, just before lunchtime, he or Yeosang would walk into the tattoo parlour with a bag of food no one asked for, but appreciated nonetheless. Seonghwa would return the gesture by treating him to something nice like pastries or drinks. Once he offered to pierce Wooyoung’s ears for free. Some things never changed. 

It continued like that for weeks and their candlelit dinner had yet to happen. But Wooyoung was patient. If he could wait twenty something years to catch a glimpse of his supposed other half, then he could wait a little more for a fancy date. Besides, they hadn’t even been over at each other’s places and that was a far more important step than eating food in an expensive restaurant. 

Like most days, Wooyoung, San, Yeosang and Mingi were all inside Utopia. Wooyoung sat on the workstation, feet dangling back and forth, while Yeosang stood by the cashier register. The remaining two stood on the other side of the counter.

“So, I was thinking,” San started, letting the silence stretch. 

It lasted all of two seconds before Yeosang broke into applause. Wooyoung’s cackle and Mingi’s quiet windshield laugh echoed through the flower shop, and was then joined by Yeosang’s polite giggles.

“Ha-ha, funny.” 

“Ah, San-ie, don’t pout. What were you saying?” Wooyoung asked, but the toothy smile didn’t budge.

“No, nothing. It’s not important.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be all sulky now!” Mingi complained and threw his arm around San’s shoulders, pulling him into an embrace that the shorter welcomed. 

The thing with Wooyoung and San was that they didn’t progress. If anyone asked, Wooyoung wouldn’t be able to answer what they were. They were soulmates because the universe decided it for them. They weren’t friends, but more acquaintances. While Wooyoung found San attractive, he didn’t care to act on those emotions. 

Besides, they never got a moment alone. 

If they weren’t at the flower shop surrounded by customers or Wooyoung’s (lovingly) annoying friends then they were pestered by the couple across the street. Bless Hongjoong’s heart he was really trying to keep the PDA on the low, but it was futile as Seonghwa clung to him like one of those cleaning-fishes in aquariums. Or he was just no match against Seonghwa’s begging boba eyes. The man could breathe in distress and Hongjoong would have the world bend at his will to get Seonghwa what he wanted. 

It was weird. Before, when Wooyoung was too young to understand the way of the world and his grandparents were still alive, he thought meeting your soulmate automatically meant you’d become a couple. Maybe that belief came from an earlier time, when finding your other half was the most important thing in life and being alone was taboo enough to risk becoming an outcast. Not to mention those who found love in someone else other than their soulmate.

The times had changed and Wooyoung couldn’t assume San was also wearing heart shaped glasses, seeing pink and flowers around Wooyoung.

“I thought you could come over to mine, Young-ah. You could show me how to make that soft tofu stew and see my figurine collections?”

Then he said things like that which made Wooyoung eat his own words and start back on square one all over again.

“Yeah, but it has to be at mine.”

“What, why?”

“I’m not risking burning down someone else's kitchen because you can’t make simple broth.”

“I can make a simple broth! But Seonghwa says it doesn’t taste like yours!”

“Of course it doesn’t, dummy, I’m a professional.”

“I thought a professional could make a simple broth no matter where he was,” Mingi pitched in and jumped back as Wooyoung lunged for him with a plastic bag.

“You be quiet!”

Between the loud giggles of Yeosang and Mingi, San’s voice weaved through and reached Wooyoung’s burning ears.

“You walked to work?”

The heat in his eyes simmered out to nothing as he faced the tattooist. Wooyoung nodded, his fringe falling into his line of sight.

“I’ll pick you up after your shift and we can head over to yours then.”

It wasn’t a question, even though it was worded like one. A soft, yellow warmth unfurled in Wooyoung’s chest, creeping up to his face. 

“But my home’s a mess.”

“Young-ah, I don’t care. I just wanna spend time with you.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Okay,” he agreed. 

He wished he hadn’t. 

The apartment was a mess. A bomb of clothes, otherwise known as Wooyoung snoozing through ten alarms and then scrambling in a panic, had gone off in his bedroom. Empty energy cans covered nearly every surface, shamelessly outing his very obvious caffeine addiction. The kitchen, that he took pride in, wasn’t any better. Used pans from breakfast sat in the sink, begging to be washed, and the garbage he didn’t have time to throw out was left by the door.

Great. Just his luck.

Wooyoung dropped the groceries by the entry in a dramatic display. Had it been any other day and he was alone, he would’ve thrown everything by the entrance and flopped onto the couch like a dead fish. But with guests over, he forced himself to keep things somewhat presentable and hung his jacket on the rack and put away his shoes. Wooyoung grabbed two pairs of slippers and set one in front of San.

They moved through the chaos and the further they ventured, the more embarrassed Wooyoung became. 

“Cozy place.”

“Ah, it’s really not. It’s a mess.” 

“No, seriously. It’s nice. It’s… you.”

Wooyoung being a menace at all times and never knowing how to accept a compliment, headed for the kitchen and calmly spoke over his shoulder.

“So you think I’m a mess?” 

A scramble of feet sounded from behind him and he bit down on his lips, but it didn’t stop the knowing smile from showing.

“That’s not what I said…” San pouted, his voice growing thicker and more kid-like.

“But that’s kinda what you said.”

“Noooo~ It’s not.”

“Is too.”

“It’s not.”

“Is too!”

San rounded the square table and was in Wooyoung’s line of view. He placed the grocery bags on the wooden surface, his eyes never straying from Wooyoung’s. 

“Young-ah.”

How could he keep up the mask when San’s voice sent pleasant shivers down his spine. 

“Okay, you’re a mess. So what? That’s not a bad thing. It just means you leave pieces of yourself with people.”

Utterly speechless, Wooyoung stood rooted in the middle of the kitchen. His lips parted slightly and his chest tightened until he was short of breath. To hear such a degrading word be used in a positive light settled something deep inside him. 

Loud, annoying, messy. That was just the surface of what he’d ever been called growing up. But this man, who he’d only known for a few weeks, already started to create a crack in that belittling glass bubble. 

“W–Wash the vegetables, please.”

“Yes, sir!”

If Wooyoung noticed the pleased smile taking over San’s face, he didn’t let it show. Just as San would never know the quick beat of Wooyoung’s heart or the sudden, nearly irresistible urge to squeeze his cheeks. 

He wordlessly handed San an apron and eyed the way it painfully stretched across his chest. There was something so domestic about seeing San prepare a meal in Wooyoung’s kitchen. It fueled the thoughts of future plans and possibilities. It was a sight Wooyoung would love to see more of.  

While San got to washing and drying the vegetables, Wooyoung prepared everything they’d need from seasonings to bowls. It was endearing to see the carrot, bell pepper, zucchini and cucumber lined in order from biggest to smallest.

“Right, so you get to cutting these in thin stripes.” He placed a cutting board on the counter and gingerly handed San a knife. “I’ll fix the spinach.” 

He turned away for thirty seconds, entirely immersed in making the spinach turn out perfect that he forgot to keep an eye on San’s progress. The breath got stuck in his throat at the sight of the thick slices of vegetables. 

“San–”

“Is it bad?”

“No! No, no. It’s… It’s creative?”

San sucked in his lips and put down the knife. He leaned back on his right leg as his hands came up to rest at his hips. “I told you I suck in the kitchen…”

“Nothing practice can’t fix. You told me Hongjoong had you drawing lines for years.”

“Hours, actually.”

“Same thing, no?”

Wooyoung picked up the knife San had been using and held it out for him to take. As their hands brushed, he gently maneuvered San to stand in front of him. He tried to ignore the jolt of electricity at the contact as he placed his hand on San’s while he used his left to press the bell pepper down.

Despite the clear height difference, Wooyoung managed to peek over San’s shoulder, careful not to nick either of their fingers. It also placed his lips at the perfect level with San’s ears now flushed a deep cherry red. He was immediately enveloped in the aroma of smoke and vanilla. It suited him.

San stiffened slightly as Wooyoung’s chest was pressed against his toned back, but he eventually relaxed. 

“We need them to be thin as matches. You just need to go like this.” 

They fell in a comfortable rhythm until the entire bell pepper was reduced to slices. 

“See. Practice.”

The words came out in a short breath and Wooyoung quickly removed himself from the place. San only nodded. He slid the pieces in a crystal bowl and did the same thing with the remaining vegetables. Wooyoung was in charge of the beef, which he had prepared the night before unknowing of San’s spontaneous idea. While that was soaking in seasonings, Wooyoung boiled soy bean sprouts in a pot that would later serve as soup to their bibimbap. 

The rest of the meal was done in a comfortable silence. The one where it wasn’t painfully hard to stay silent and force out a conversation. San was too busy concentrating on simple tasks, his tongue sticking out from between his lips, to make small talk and Wooyoung could read a room for once. 

When it was time to actually cook everything, San visibly stepped back and took off his apron. He leaned against the counter closest to Wooyoung, elbow propped on the surface and chin resting in the palm of his hand. Instead of focusing on the sizzling meat, he kept his eyes on his soulmate. Wooyoung worked well under pressure. Handling hopeless boyfriends buying roses last minute for their significant others on Valentine’s day was nothing compared to San’s heavy gaze burning into the side of his face. Even the heat from the stove didn’t come close.

“San-ah, can you pour the soybean sprout soup in two bowls?”

The man didn’t budge at first, but then pulled himself away as if it physically took a toll on his body.

“Aye, aye, captain.”

San moved like a cat. The faint clink of bowls and the soft splash of soup being poured were swallowed by the loud sizzle of the stove. 

The meat had turned a rich brown so Wooyoung lifted the pan and turned in one swift motion, the pan moving with him through the air. Amidst it all, San stepped in from behind carrying the bowls filled to the brim. 

First came the gasp then the splash. 

 Wooyoung slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes blown wide and brows nearly disappearing into his hairline. San closed his eyes, nose scrunched and lips rolled into a line. His shirt was completely drenched in soybean sprout water.

For a second, neither of them moved. 

“This is why I stay out of the kitchen.”

Wooyoung burst out in a fit of laughter to the point he had to put away the pan or they’d be dealing with an even bigger mess. San joined in on the laughter and the chaotic apartment lit up with joy.

“Oh, help me,” Wooyoung breathed out between giggles and wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eyes. “No, but seriously. What happened?”

“We nearly bumped into each other so I tried to stop it, but there was too much broth in the bowls.” 

San set the bowls in the sink before grabbing a handful of paper towels, crushing down to mop up the few droplets landing across the floor. He’d taken the brunt of it. The already snug shirt clung even tighter to his body, a sight Wooyoung wasn’t complaining about. As good as it looked, he could only imagine how uncomfortable it felt. All cold and overstimulating that Wooyoung would absolutely despise.

“You can take a shower. If you want!”

“That would be nice actually.”

“I think I have some of Mingi’s clothes laying around here somewhere.” 

Wooyoung led the way to the bathroom with San padding after him. At least that part of the apartment was tidy. He flickered the lights on and grabbed a towel from the cupboards. As he turned back to show San how the shower worked, the words choked in his throat.

San leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest and legs crossed. “...Mingi’s clothes?”

“Yah! From sleepovers! I have some of Yeosang’s clothes too, but they won’t fit!”

“Good.” 

San stepped into the bathroom and slipped past Wooyoung, close enough to brush him, before gently taking the towel from his hands. The same smoky vanilla scent flooded Wooyoung’s senses and for a second, he nearly followed him straight into the shower.

“I’ll bring you a spare change of clothes,” he blurted and slammed the door shut on his way out. 

Wooyoung paced the length of his small bedroom, the single-word sentence replaying in his mind over and over. The assertive tone made his stomach swoop in ways he hadn’t known were possible. 

He’d never been a fan of possessive people, but seeing that side of San was different. It wasn’t the bad or suffocating kind. It was warm and certain, but most importantly natural. Like San was confirming what they danced around all this time.

Wooyoung dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He needed to get his shit together.

Rummaging through his wardrobe for some of Mingi’s clothes he’d left behind proved harder than expected. He had taken everything home after their last sleepover. All Wooyoung managed to find was a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt that seemed like it would barely fit him, let alone San. None of Wooyoung or Yeosang’s shirts would sit properly on those broad shoulders either. Wooyoung took the opportunity to change out of his ‘outside clothes’ and into something comfier.

The water was still running by the time Wooyoung returned with the few things he’d managed to find. He knocked, then waited, shifting his weight as the sound of the shower gradually faded.

“Yeah?” San’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“I found some clothes,” Wooyoung called. “Do you want me to leave them outside?”

“It’s unlocked. You can bring them in, please.”

Wooyoung hesitated for half a second before pushing the door open. A faint curl of steam grazed his face as he stepped inside, his strawberry-scented shower gel immediately attacking his senses. 

“I couldn’t find much, but I brought sweatpants and a shirt.”

“Thank you, Young-ah.”

Behind the curtain, San turned the showerhead back on, a soft hum slipping past the spray. As asked of him, Wooyoung set the spare clothes neatly on top of the toilet lid, trying very hard not to think about anything else.

“Just shout if you need anything!”

The other man didn’t get to say another word as Wooyoung bolted. He breathed out in relief as cold air clung to his skin. He hoped San wouldn’t call him for anything. His imagination was already running wild just by hearing water splash against his body. 

Wooyoung slapped his hands against his own cheeks, a sharp sting blooming under his palms as he tried to jolt himself back into focus. It did nothing so he retorted to finishing dinner in hopes of coming across different thoughts.

He reheated the soup and leftover rice from last night’s dinner. Each bowl was filled with rice first, then carefully topped with vegetables and beef. He hadn’t asked how San liked his eggs, but he hoped he’d be fine with a sunny-side-up fried egg. 

The table was set. The food was ready. All that was left was for San to come out, hopefully any minute now.

Rather than idling, Wooyoung turned to the dishes instead. Might as well get them done too so they could relax afterward. There weren’t many anyway and he could probably just load most of them into the dishwasher.

He was halfway through rinsing a plate when he heard his name called. He dried his hands against his pants and stopped by the bathroom.

“San-nie?” 

“...I can’t get the shirt off.”

A beat passed.

“Can you help me?”

Wooyoung could never say no to him, even when his own heart felt like it was on the verge of short-circuiting. He pressed his lips together, his mouth suddenly dry, before trying again to speak.

“Y–Yeah! Sure.” 

“...Can you also open the door?”

Brows knitted together, Wooyoung had his questions but obliged. Warm air escaped the bathroom like a fire seeking oxygen and there stood San with both arms raised over his head. He’d managed to get Mingi’s shirt past his head and chest before it took a stop. The sweatpants hung low on his waist and were bunched around his ankles. At least they were still up.

The sight was unexpected. It would’ve been funny too, if not for the fact that San’s sculpted build suddenly made it very hard to tear his eyes away and stalled Wooyoung’s thoughts completely. He didn’t know what to focus on first. 

The muscles? 

The honey toned skin? 

The plethora of tattoos?

Wooyoung’s attention was divided between the wolf covering one side of San’s entire chest and the sleeve of woodland peonies on his left arm. A viscous heat attacked his face and steam would escape his ears at any moment, just like in the cartoons. There was no point in denying it. Wooyoung knew San had a good physique, he just hadn’t expected it to hit him like this with the deadly combination of tattoos too.

Naked torsos weren’t something Wooyoung hadn’t seen before. He’s both dated and messed around with guys sporting eight-packs and biceps the size of watermelons, but they weren’t San. They weren’t Wooyoung’s soulmate that could make him weak in the knees by one simple word.

“Wooyoung?”

“R–Right! Let’s see.” He reached for the shirt, careful not to accidentally touch San. “I’ll just… take it off.”

Despite his carefulness, his thumbs still swept over San’s skin just below his chest. A ripple of goosebumps awakender under Wooyoung’s touch and San’s abdomen tightened in response before relaxing again. A sharp intake of air made Wooyoung pause for a split second, then he quickly tugged the shirt up and over San’s head.

“Hey,” Wooyoung breathed out, beet red cheeks and curved lips.

San chuckled. He wasn’t faring any better. The wet black hair stuck to his forehead and water dripped down his neck. A galaxy of freckles littered the side of his neck and shoulders. A detail Wooyoung hadn’t gotten the chance to admire.

“Hey,” he greeted in return and glanced down at the fabric in Wooyoung’s hands. “Mingi’s shirt, huh?”

Wooyoung raised it uselessly. “Yeah… It was the only one big enough. Well, apparently not, but yeah.”

“It’s okay. Sorry for calling you suddenly. I just panicked that I was going to be stuck there forever. I contemplated whether to just tear it apart, but it’s not mine.”

“You should have. Treat him right for leaving dirty laundry at my place…” Wooyoung grumbled and looked away.

San laughed again.

“Remind me to take my shirt with me back home.”

“I don’t mind your clothes at my apartment,” Wooyoung blurted out without really thinking, his eyes stuck on the wolf on San’s chest. 

He wondered what the backstory behind that tattoo was. If there even was one. Would San want to tell him? 

San raised a calculated brow and tilted his head that posed a threat to Wooyoung’s sanity and selfcontrol.

“Hm? Really?”

Wooyoung snapped out of his daze and threw his head back as spun on his heel, bolting out of the bathroom.

“Ah, you know what I meant! Come on, hurry, the food is getting cold.”

In the short walk it took San to get to the kitchen, Wooyoung managed to dry the rest of the utensils, his movements just a little too quick to be casual. The soft slap of bare feet against tile and the scrape of a chair being pulled out announced San’s arrival.

“Thanks for the food.”

Wooyoung thought he’d seen it all. San shirtless, tattoos on display, sweats hanging dangerously low, damp hair slicked back like something out of a Calvin Klein magazine. Apparently not because there he was, wearing that damned apron on again. Biceps on full display, the fabric strained as it stretched over him in all the wrong (or right) places.

“What are you wearing?”

San tilted his head, humming softly in question. “What? I had nothing else and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Besides… it’s a bit much to eat dinner shirtless.”

How could Wooyoung possibly tell him it didn’t have to be like this. That he wanted San there. That he wanted him at the table for breakfast, lunch and dinner. To have his shirts and socks tossed together with Wooyoung’s in the laundry basket. Two pairs of slippers waiting for them by the door, a hook each for their jackets and coats. To have his toothbrush next to Wooyoung’s, their bottles slowly blending together in the shower.

He couldn’t. Instead he occupied the seat across San and nodded.

“I see.”

They enjoyed the dinner in silence. Not because there was nothing to say. Wooyoung’s thoughts were running a hundred miles an hour, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Those subtle comments had to mean something. The little moment of possessiveness and childish-jealousy. They were soulmates! It had to mean something.

“I can wash the dishes,” San eventually spoke and interrupted the quiet. 

“No way, just leave it there. I’ll deal with it later… or tomorrow.” Wooyoung stuffed the rest of his bibimbap and hurriedly rose.

“I’m the guest. I made a mess and even borrowed your bathroom. It’s a bit embarrassing. We were supposed to do it together, but I did just more work for you.”

The beautiful artwork of the different phases of the moon lined San’s spine, each curve and shadow tracing its way down his back. Sinful thoughts crept to the front of Wooyoung’s mind again and he had to visibly shake his head to clear them. The entire man looked like a piece of art and pride swelled in Wooyoung’s chest at the fact that San was his. But it wilted just as quickly because they weren’t anything more than friends. Destined together or not.

“I don’t mind. I’d cook it on my own either way. You made it better.” 

San leaned against the counter in a way that made the muscles in his arms bulge and peered slightly over his shoulder.

“...I did?”

“Of course? Why wouldn’t you?” 

Wooyoung put his own bowl in the sink.

“Because I made a mess.”

Wooyoung snorted at that. “If you call a little spill a mess then I wouldn’t want to know what you’d say after seeing Mingi, Yeosang and Jongho in the kitchen. Now, go. Get in the living room and take that off!”

Bellies full and energy dipping, they lay draped over a sofa each. A random show was playing on the TV that Wooyoung wasn’t really paying attention to. 

He looked over to his right. San was stretched out on his back, one arm tucked beneath his head while the other rested loosely on his chest. The shifting light from the screen painted the trail of woodland peonies along his arm in soft hues. 

“Can I ask something?” Wooyoung nearly changed his mind as San met his eyes in the flickering light. “About your tattoos.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do they mean anything?”

San shifted onto his left side. He bent his arm, propping his head on his palm so his elbow formed a loose triangle against the sofa.The rest of his body stayed stretched out.

“Yeah, some of them.” He jerked his chin down to the wolf. “Not that one though. That was me being bored and Hongjoong restless as the pandemic made business tight.” 

“It’s pretty.”

“Thank you. She really is. I designed it myself. I designed all of them.” A blush settled over his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “My first tattoo is this one.”

He stretched out his right arm, revealing a simple design of two mountains with a sun peeking out from between them.

“It’s for your name, right?” Wooyoung guessed, a wide grin taking over his features. 

“Yeah, I’d wanted a tattoo for so long, but I was scared of a lot of things. Mostly how my parents would react. So I thought I’d ease them into it by getting something tattooed that they came up with.”

“And? How did that go? The classic reaction?” 

“Oh, my mom was crying, but my grandmother was even worse. She was ready to scrub it off.”

Wooyoung threw his head back from laughter. “She did not!”

“I swear! She had the salt ready every time I was at their place. I had to wear long sleeves for so long because they wouldn’t stop staring. It became even worse when I got this beauty…”

“The woodland peonies.”

Just their name was enough to make the memories of their past life surface.

“Right. But they have come to terms with it now. More people have tattoos anyways…”

“She’s beautiful,” Wooyoung breathed. The flowers were pretty on their own, but the design itself was even more striking.

“It’s the most recent piece I’ve gotten done… It’s also the most special one.”

“Why?”

“It’s from my first ever memory of us.”

Their eyes met in the dark and Wooyoung was unable to look away. He didn’t want to. A tender song played from the TV. Wooyoung parted his lips, but nothing came out. 

“We were out walking and you pointed them out. Woodland peonies, you said. Ever since that memory, I saw them everywhere. As you know, I suck at cooking and I didn’t even want to try housing a plant. So, I got it on my body because that way they would always be with me.”

“Even a plucked flower may continue to blossom, so long as it–”

“It’s tended to with care and properly nurtured. I know.”

It seemed that San’s new hobby was leaving Wooyoung speechless, because he was becoming great at it. 

Wooyoung drew his brows together.  “...You saw that one too?”

“Yeah. It’s my favorite.”

Wooyoung had been so caught up in the grief of his memories that he never really stopped to pick a favorite from the litter. Maybe that one was his favorite too or maybe it would be the night they stargazed together.

“I used to call you flower,” San said absentmindedly, a small smile lingering on his lips. 

He sat up and Wooyoung mirrored him from the other sofa. Unlike San, who had both feet planted on the floor, Wooyoung propped one knee up against his chest, the other leg bent loosely and resting flat along the cushion.

“I know,” Wooyoung whispered, eyes soft and his mouth curving faintly. “I never asked why.”

“It’s simple. You were the prettiest man in the entire country. Still are.”

The florist ignored the last part, but his heart still skipped a beat or two. “How do you know that’s what he thought?”

“Because we share one soul with one eternal love for yours. Everything I say, think or do is an extension of him. So trust me when I say I know why he called you flower.”

“You… love me?” The question came out in a whisper. As if Wooyoung couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

San didn’t hesitate. His hands rested flat on his lap. He didn’t bounce his knee or fidget with his sweats. He was completely still. 

“Of course.”

“You love me?”

“Yes.”

Again, he didn’t think twice before answering. Confidence suited him, but it was something Wooyoung lacked.

“Why? No, how? We… We barely know each other. You can’t love me.”

“Wooyoung-ah,” he said softly. “My love started long before we met.”

The words Wooyoung had dreamed of hearing since he was little awakened a spark low in his stomach, spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes. It felt good at first, but the reminder of how dangerous fire could be, how often it had burned him before, set off alarms. He tried to extinguish it with damp paper and weak breaths.

“You’re saying that because we are soulmates.”

“No.” 

The finality in his voice made Wooyoung’s cheeks burn with shame. The small glow flared into a restless flame, pushing past the damp paper and weak breaths meant to smother it.

“I don’t need the stars to align or for the world to end to know what I feel is real. I recognize it in the butterflies coming alive whenever I think of you or the way my chest tightens when you are near. That is love, Wooyoung-ah. Don’t question it, especially not mine.”

By now, he’d shifted forward from the sofa with his forearms braced against his thighs, eyes locked on Wooyoung.

“And it’s okay if you’re unsure or don’t feel the same. I understand, I really do. But don’t think for a second that my feelings are forced or made-up. Alright?”

Wooyoung could only bring himself to nod. The fire was still burning through him, but it didn’t hurt. On the contrary, it felt good. Comforting almost. 

A slight shuffle gently nudged him back to the present. 

“Can I… try something?”

Again, Wooyoung nodded. He trusted San. He would always trust him. After all, he’d kept their promise.

He watched San circle the table in a few steps before lowering himself into the seat beside him. The TV flickered behind him, casting a soft halo around his head. At first, San didn’t speak or move. His eyes wandered over Wooyoung’s face as if searching for the slightest sign of uncertainty. Only then did he proceed.

Slowly, almost painfully slow, San raised his right hand and cupped Wooyoung’s cheek. He leaned into the touch and shivered as San’s thumb fell in a gentle stroke right across his cheekbone.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze flickering between Wooyoung’s eyes and lips. 

Like a flower craving the sun, Wooyoung leaned closer to San until their noses nearly touched and breaths became one. San didn’t move any further. Perhaps afraid of crossing a line they wouldn't be able to recover from. But one of the two was done depriving himself of love and affection.

“Please,” Wooyoung whispered.

His eyes fluttered shut just as San’s fingers curled lightly at his jaw, drawing him in as he finally closed the distance. Wooyoung’s hand found San’s wrist while the other slid around his neck, nails scratching at the golden skin.

The kiss began gently and almost hesitant, as if they’d both crumble at the touch, before settling into something hungrier. San’s tongue brushed over Wooyoung’s lower lip in a quiet invitation and he answered without thinking, parting for him with a soft breath. His thoughts slipped away, one by one, until there was nothing left but San. Just when it seemed they might pull apart, one of them only drew the other closer and deepened the kiss instead. 

 It was the eventual need for air that pulled them apart. Their chests rose and fell in uneven rhythm, lips red and shining. Their hands slipped further down their bodies until they intertwined in a gentle hold. San rested his forehead against Wooyoung’s, a quiet smile lingering.

“Hey,” he whispered and stole another quick peck. 

Wooyoung scrunched his nose in return, a quiet greeting slipping out under his breath. San rubbed his thumb gently over Wooyoung’s knuckle.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed and stared deeply into Wooyoung’s eyes.

“Why didn’t you?” 

Wooyoung would never admit he wanted it just as much. 

“...I guess I was afraid.”

“Of me?”

“Of ruining everything,” San corrected and drew back, but their hands stayed interlocked.

“You could never ruin anything. Worst case scenario I’d run away again. But you’d find me… Again.”

It brought out a chuckle from San that Wooyoung joined with his own breathy laugh. 

“I’ll always find you, Young-ah. In this life and the next one, and the one after that and so on. I promise.”

The squeeze of San’s hand sealed the promise.

Oh, how lucky he was, Wooyoung thought. After all those years of worrying and longing, he had finally found the one he would spend the rest of his life with. San was perfect in every way. Sometimes, too perfect and that thought alone was enough to make Wooyoung wonder if the universe had made a mistake, giving him more than he deserved.

He thought about his past life. A heavy weight dropped in his stomach and his vision blurred. He tried smiling, but his lips wobbled as tears trickled down his cheeks. The alarmed call of his name followed by shuffling did nothing to stop them or the ball of guilt from growing in him.

“Young-ah, what’s wrong?”

A warmth landed on his knee. He didn’t say anything. His body trembled as he fought to stay silent, swallowing every sound that threatened to break free. San’s hand kept moving in slow, steady circles.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong,” he whispered hurriedly. 

Tears clung to Wooyoung’s lashes and his cheeks were salty. He let out a choppy breath as he looked at San, now kneeling before him. Somehow he managed to squeeze himself between the sofa and coffee table.

“Speak to me, please. If I did something, or– or said something, tell me–”

“It’s– Fuck…” Wooyoung hastily wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s just… Do you think they ever imagined this? Us, talking casually, eating at the same table, laughing and touching each other.”

Helpless, confused, San stared at him. Concern etched into every curve of his features.

“It’s not fair. They deserve this too. They deserved to be happy together,” Wooyoung sobbed and buried his face in his hands.

San gently wrapped his arms around Wooyoung, who nestled his face into the crook of his neck. Shudders tore through his body and all San could do was hold him close, pressing light kisses to the crown of his head.

“They do,” he agreed. 

The Wooyoung from his previous life deserved happiness too and if that entailed a life spent together with his soulmate, then so be it. He had been a mere flower boy with nothing to his name, but a heart big enough to care for an entire village. It wasn’t just that, in his past life, Wooyoung hadn’t even been allowed to choose who he could interact with, let alone who he might marry. The thought of it pained him deeply.

It took a long time before the sobs and gasps for air softened into quiet sniffles and, eventually, light snores. San hadn’t moved a muscle the entire time. Carefully, as if afraid to disturb him, he shifted Wooyoung into his lap then slipped one arm beneath his back and the other under his thighs. 

Standing by the threshold of his bedroom, San drank in every nook and cranny of the space. It wasn’t big, but Wooyoung had styled it to the best of his abilities. There was a clear color palette, if one could even call it that, considering everything was either black, white or grey. It was surprisingly tidy. No clothes thrown haphazardly or papers scattered everywhere. The bed, large enough to fit two or three people, was neatly made. It had been pushed against the left wall, just beside the entrance. 

The entire wall opposite the bed was a window, though the curtains were drawn. Considering Wooyoung lived on a double-digit floor, San could only imagine the view beyond it. A grey bean bag sat near the foot of the bed, with a bench across from it and a TV mounted above.

The moment San eased Wooyoung onto the bed and his head hit the pillow, he stirred. As San withdrew his hands from beneath his body, Wooyoung startled awake and latched onto his wrist. He quickly looked around and seemed to relax as he recognized his surroundings.

“I fell asleep….”

“Just for a little while. I didn’t want to leave you on the sofa.”

“Can you…” He began fiddling with the edge of his covers. 

“You want me to stay?” San had whispered, one knee digging into the bed.

Wooyoung nodded and scooted back, never letting go of his hold on San. 

“I’ll just turn the lights off.”

Darkness wrapped around them as Wooyoung lay on his side, listening to the soft rustle of San climbing into bed. Soon they were both beneath the covers. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Wooyoung traced the contour of San’s face. Sensing his heavy gaze, San turned toward him. They lay there staring at each other and listening to their chests rising and falling in a quiet rhythm.

Wooyoung wiggled closer to San, resting his forehead against his shoulder, the rest of his body curled in on itself. His left hand wrapped around San’s bicep while the other was trapped between his own body and San’s other arm. Careful not to nick Wooyoung in the head, San slowly laced their fingers together. 

“Good night, San-ah.”

“Good night, Young-ah.”

San faced the ceiling again and soon they both drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, Wooyoung woke up to find himself tucked up in San’s firm body, his arm a comforting weight curled around his waist. Warm breath tickled the back of his neck and Wooyoung didn’t dare move a muscle. It took a few seconds for the memories from last night to kick in and when they eventually did, Wooyoung couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his face.

The confession, the kiss, the cuddling. 

Wooyoung shut his eyes from embarrassment and rubbed his forehead. The slight movement brought out a little whine from the man behind him. Soft lips pressed against Wooyoung’s shoulder. Goosebumps rose beneath the touch and he fought back a shiver.

“Morning,” San greeted, his voice deep and raspy with sleep. The arm around Wooyoung tightened, pulling him flush against his front.

“Hey,” Wooyoung squealed in return.

  They continued to lay there for what felt like an eternity, but neither wanted to be anywhere else.

Wooyoung did wonder though what time it was and if he had gotten any interesting notifications on his phone. Most of all, his bladder was urging him to relieve himself. San had other plans in mind.

“San-ah, I need to go to the bathroom.”

“No… Not yet,” he mumbled, tightening his hold and making it impossible for Wooyoung to move.

“I’m going to pee myself!”

“Okay, but…” San yawned. “You have to answer me first.”

A soft shuffle was heard before San pressed his lips and nose against Wooyoung’s shoulder, leaving small kisses in his wake. Despite himself, Wooyoung smiled, even with the growing pressure in his bladder.

“I don’t want to rush anything, but are you free this week?”

“Why?”

San sighed, but not from exhaustion or annoyance. The sigh was loaded with nerves and jitters. 

“I told my parents about you… They want to meet you.”

“What?!”

Wooyoung tried to turn around, but San’s grip didn’t allow it.

“San– I– When did you even tell them?! And let me turn around!”

“The day after we met. I told my mom first, then my dad happened to be there. They haven’t stopped pestering me about you.” San chuckled. “Dad was ready to make the drive that same day.”

Wooyoung immediately turned as San loosened his hold on him. He had the sudden urge to pinch his cheeks, to leave his fingerprints etched into his skin, but the sleep still clinging to San’s eyes and the weak smile on his lips made him melt immediately. Wooyoung’s gaze dropped briefly before returning to his eyes.

He cleared his throat. “I can’t believe you told them.”

“Too soon?”

Wooyoung shook his head and focused on the freckles on San’s neck. “No, I just…” His mouth curved into a smirk as he looked up again. “Didn’t you say you were going to take me out to a candlelit dinner in a fancy restaurant first? Are you already going back on your words, Choi San?”

“Aish, what am I to do with you?” 

San cupped Wooyoung’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips puckered like a fish. In one swift motion, he pressed a light kiss to them before pulling away as if nothing had happened. Wooyoung, dizzy from the sudden close in proximity, blinked an alarming amount of times.

“I’ll take you on a million dates, Young-ah. To the point you get bored of them all.”

“Yah, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

“Good thing I always keep my promise, flower.”