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When she first hears Kim Junmyeon’s gotten into gardening, Joohyun is surprised for a total of three seconds before remembering that a) it’s something mostly housewives do, b) Junmyeon seems to have a nurturing soul, and c) he lives in filth anyway, from what the other guys always say, so the dirt must be familiar to him already.
It’s kind of cute, though, the way he goes on about soil nutrients and perennials and all the horrors of English ivy. His voice, normally so calm and subdued, filled with self-conscious pauses, gets higher and faster, tinged with excitement. And even though it’s a little lame and boring, all the rambling about plants, when he offers to show her what he’s been working on, she looks at his bright, hopeful grin and nods. Just to be polite, of course.
(When he smiles—genuinely, not just for the camera or the higher-ups—it’s all shining white teeth and round cheeks, boyish and handsome, almost too perfect to be real. Joohyun’s seen it enough times that she doesn’t blush under her makeup anymore, but she still smiles back a little too easily.)
“You don’t have a lot of flowers,” she says, hands clasped behind her back. It’s a rooftop garden on one of the company buildings. She finds herself more interested in looking out over the cityscape, or at the open sky, but she resists the temptation.
“It’s barely spring!” he says defensively. “And not all of them are flowering plants anyway.”
She hums. “They look healthy, at least.” She squats down to look at one of the planters, filled with tiny budding flowers. “Very… green.” She looks up to see him pouting. “They’re nice,” she insists. “I can tell you’ve cared for them well.”
“I try to,” he says. “I come here whenever I can get away, which… isn’t often.” He sighs. “The staff actually cares for them more than I do at this point.”
“That’s fine.” She stands up, straightens her skirt. “This is just what you do to relax. Take your mind off the stress of being a leader. It shouldn’t feel like a burden.”
“Do you have anything like that?” he asks.
“I write.”
He looks surprised. “Stories?”
“No, just… my thoughts.” She laughs. “It’s not very interesting. I just like having things written down. So I can look back on them later and remember what I was thinking, or how I felt.” One corner of her mouth curves up into the lopsided smile she’s been told looks too haughty, too uncomfortable. More grimace than grin. “It’s just another thing that shows how boring I am on the inside, I guess.”
“Not boring,” he says. “Thoughtful. You’re a very introspective person, Bae Joohyun.” His expression turns ever so slightly mischievous. “You know what I’ve found is good for introspection? Gardening.”
She laughs, covering her mouth. “You’re just saying that so you’ll have someone to share your boring hobby with.”
“Ahh, you caught me. I really brought you here to convert you.” He looks away, suddenly intensely interested in a woody-looking plant near his feet. “You’re the first person who’s agreed to come up here, you know.”
Her heart softens so much she can feel it turning into a puddle in her chest. “Well,” she says, “the boring ones should stick together, right?”
Two weeks later, the morning of her birthday, someone delivers a small potted peace lily to her dorm. The attached note says To my fellow boring leader. Consider this your initiation gift. More to follow.
The flower dies within the month. She buys another to replace it.