#happy (ish) anniversary bbs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whigmaleeriewriter · 8 years ago

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QUERENCIA // 01

m/(n) a place where from where one’s strength is drawn, where one is their most authentic self

A/N: Hello. It has been a while. I have one answer: School ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. But I truly sorry that I couldn’t post this earlier. This is a birthday present for @donttellme-byebye / @xtaetae. Whose birthday was in April. Today is 18th June. Heh.

Really though, this fic is my baby, I’ll protect it until my last breath. I’ve never written something this big, and I’m proud of myself (even if it did take me this long) So I hope you guys like it. HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY BB~

Words: 8.6K (!!!)

Pairing: Kim Taehyung/ V X Reader ; Park Jimin X Reader (yay! love traingle)

Warnings: Self-deprication (?) Abandonment, Dark thoughts (( I really want this to be effective but I really don’t know what I can add ))

You blink up at the bleak ceiling, what can you see of it; the moon is your only lamp. The only sound you can hear is that of the ticking clock. Tick tock, tick tock, tick.

Also of the party downstairs. The party downstairs. An engagement party, a dance party, a bachelor party, a get-drunk party, a birthday party.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

Whether or not there’s a cause, there still a celebration.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

That might even be better than having a cause. Simple. Enjoying the booze, enjoying the music, enjoying the feel of someone beside you, the feel of a random smile thrown your way just…because.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

You consider calling him. You can, you certainly can. The phone is right there, his number being the only one other than your grandfather’s and the takeout guy’s. It would take exactly three taps on the screen. What would small talk would you have to endure? What would you say after?

Hi, I’m okay(ish) How are you? Of course, all must be merry with you. The weather is perfectly alright. Classes are going well; the business is going well. I would love to meet up with you both (and your dog hopefully) but I don’t think I can make it. I have a big project and the shop…. Yeah, maybe another time. When Pa is feeling better. Yeah, it’s been nice. Oh, must be date night, haha. I-uh, would love to talk more, but I think Pa’s calling. Yeah, have a nice time with her. Bye. (friend)

Or maybe the excess medication flowing through your bloodstream will loosen your tongue.

Hi, I’m feeling utterly miserable and the only thing that has even a sliver of a chance to make me feel normal again is your voice. The weather is as wretched as I am, and the classes would be immeasurably better if we could get high off suppressed giggles together instead of taking notes. But, no. It is not my pleasure and intention to meet you and my flawless (former) friend. I’d rather it be you. And me. (And your cute dog). At the shop. Snipping stems, and humming Symphony No. 7. Are you going to the fair for a date? I wonder if you remember how much I love cotton candy. Don’t buy her any, please. I want to talk more. Till my heart can’t beat and my arms can’t greet, I will still want to talk. But this feeling, I don’t know what, is slaughtering my soul more than when you left and I can’t talk. Irony at its best. So, I take my bow now with grace (or so I hope) and I will proceed to fall asleep with all the thoughts in the world or no thoughts at all. Bye (impossible lover).

Or maybe you will do what you have always done this time of year. Bake a cake for your grandfather– and to share with the watchman – wash down a sleeping pill with a swig of fancy wine and fall asleep with the hope for a dreamless night.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick -

The walk to class is a foreseen quiet one. Hi to the security guard, hi to his dog, hi to the cat on the wall.

Class is class. Intriguing as always, but not enough today. Not enough to stimulate the grey cells. Especially when you can very clearly hear the data about the events at a certain gathering passing completely throughout the lecture hall.

Would you have gone, though? If you were given the opportunity, would you have dressed up (or fashionably dressed down) and gotten drunk off throbbing EDM?

It doesn’t matter. You repeat it to yourself the whole bus ride to the shop. It doesn’t matter because you weren’t invited. It doesn’t matter because you would have sat on the terrace the entire time listening to muffled conversations. It doesn’t matter because you would fall asleep with the same thoughts again.

The moment you swing open the door of the shop, a familiar cry of your name reaches your ears. “Y/N!” You hear footsteps padding towards you and you immediately brace yourself. Just in time, too. The very next moment the breath is knocked out of your lungs.

“You know what day it is right? It’s my birthday!” Your shoulders relax of their own accord. He’s okay. The only thing that keeps you going is knowing that your grandpa is smiling and healthy.

Your lips lift up in a grin, the only time you don’t have to force it, “Happy birthday, grandpa!”

The moment you’re both seated behind the counter, you notice your grandpa’s eyes scanning your backpack. While meekly twiddling his fingers, “You must be busy, and I shouldn’t want too much, but did you get the chance to-”

His face brightens tenfold the moment your fingers slide the pastry box out of your backpack.

“Y/N! You shouldn’t have! You should concentrate on yourself, not this old geezer,” he says, all the while proceeding to get plates and forks to from the back room.

Much like last night, the only sounds you can hear are the ticking of the clock, the occasional flashes of the traffic signal at the curb, and the rustle of leaves and stems throughout the store.

There isn’t much movement outside. Whether it be road traffic or pedestrians. The unwelcome weather – which is showing no signs of departing – is frightening the people away with its icy tendrils. But it’s definitely your favourite time. You’ve always loved flowers, adored them to no end as a child. But you especially love sitting in the store because your grandfather’s arrangements always leave you amazed. His arrangements feel like they’re trying to say something. Every time. You always try to achieve that emotion in your work, but it always seems off to you.

Looking around now too, it feels like you’re the only one tongue tied in a room filled with unspoken, hushed conversations. And unlike your cramped, flustered memories of high school cafeterias and gym classes, being here makes you glad to stay mute and listen to the conversations from the side.

You’re shaken out of your reverie by the tinkling of the door. A boy, if you can call him that, enters with almost every inch of his body swathed with clothing. You make your way to the front of the counter by the time he’s done with removing his mask and beanie, from under which golden brown hair tumbles out onto his forehead.

“What can I help you with?” You can tell your smile is forced and you try your best to make it genuine.

By his expression, you can tell he has just noticed you. “Oh… isn’t he-?”

That means he knows grandpa. That means he’s a regular. Which is weird. He’s too young to frequent a florist. He looks your age, in fact.

He’s speaking again before you can even think of responding, “He must be asleep, it’s okay. I’m here to collect a bouquet. An order was placed an order yesterday under the name Kim T.” A soft smile is gracing his features and you feebly attempt to mimic it.

He ordered a bouquet? Which is weirder. The shop mainly gets mass orders here.

“Sure, I’ll be right back with it.” You head to the backroom or the “assembly hall” as grandpa likes to call it. If the order was placed yesterday, your grandpa must have prepared it this morning. You find the lone bouquet sitting on a huge sack of fresh cut lilies. Your grandpa has even inscribed something in neat print on a card. You pry your eyes away from it, not wanting to intrude on this Kim T’s privacy. If that’s even his name.

You examine the bouquet before heading back out and it manages to take your breath away, as usual. Judging by the peonies and tea roses interspersed with stalks of heliotropes, the bouquet is for an anniversary. Most likely a marriage anniversary – which is highly unlikely, because the guy looks your age, and there’s no way he’s married already. Then again, you have enough experience to know anything can happen in this world.

You find him by a vase of daffodils, long fingers gently brushing the petals, with the fast falling evening sun creating a halo around him. You have to say, it’s a nice sight.

You begin to clear your throat, but he notices your arrival before you can. He turns around with the same smile on his face, and you can’t help but wonder how he does it. How can one person keep it on for so long?

You hand him the bouquet and begin the billing process at the computer while he observes it. From the corner of her eye you can still clearly make out the grin on his face. It’s refreshing to see someone appreciate art, especially when you relate as well. So this time, after you return the change, you smile genuinely.

The smile morphs into surprise when he says, “These are beautiful. Wish the crazy florist a happy birthday from my side, and also tell him I’ll be back tomorrow with his present.”

So, he is quite a regular. “I-yeah. I’ll give him the message.” After an exchange of bows, he’s headed to the door.

You open your mouth again, and it almost slips out, “Hope your wife likes it!”, but he’s already disappeared down the street by then. You bring your lips back together and only then do you notice your outstretched hand. You slowly bring it back to your side swiftly, staring at it in wonderment. Were you trying to wave? Were you ready for a hand shake? Also, why are you so hetero-normative? Either way, the shop certainly seemed brighter than it had this afternoon.

“Did Tae Tae forget my birthday?” You swivel around in your chair and find your grandfather frowning at the door.

For the third time today, you smile. “No, Mr. Kim T. said he would come by tomorrow with your present.”

“Oh thank god! He promised to get me Bundt cake. And even high yield seeds for the yard!”

Wow, they must know each other really well. “That’s really nice of him, grandpa. How come you’re such good friends?”

“He comes here every week. A weekday usually– Wednesday or Thursday – which is why you never run into him. Takes some flowers for the house, sometimes for friends and all.” Your grandfather now stands beside the very vase ‘Tae Tae’ stood by. Your lips twitch, just a bit. “What a nice kid really. He goes to your university too. His major, is uh… who are those scientists that experiment with plants and things, what is it, er-” He trails off, searching for the right word.

“A botanist?” He nods vigorously after you supply the answer. “That’s how he can get you high yield seeds, huh?” More nodding.

“His stuff works wonders, Y/N. Remember those petunias I planted last fall? Even after using the humidifier, they refused to sprout. A week after I mentioned that to Taehyung, he came around with a fertilizer. Worked on it himself, he said. And it worked! Grew like nothing I’ve never seen before after that.”

Kim Taehyung, huh? “That’s really nice, grandpa. I’m glad you have someone to talk to when I’m not around.” Your smile goes wistful and so does his.

“Of course, I miss having you around, but I don’t want you to feel bad at all, dear. You need to go to college and live your own life. The fact that you call every morning and come here so often is more than enough for me.” His wrinkled hands reach forward to softly pat your shoulder. “Y/N, I know you well enough to know how you feel about all this. But please don’t feel like you’re not doing enough, okay?”

“I just want you to be happy, grandpa. That’s all I want.”

The moment the bus door opened, tiny legs sprinted across sidewalk.

“Look at what we made in school!” You lifted up the bead necklace up like a tournament trophy. Jimin and Yeeun consecutively held up their necklaces as well, pride gleaming on their faces.

“My oh my. They sure are pretty. Are you sure you made them yourselves?” Your grandfather teased, patting all three of your heads.

“Grandpa!” The three of you whined with utmost precision. After receiving only a chuckle in return, all of you took off into your house, leaving your grandfather to water the plants alone. Bags discarded at the dining table, you headed into your room.

“I know what will make it even better!” You smacked your supply box onto the desk and fished inside until you found the object of your desire – the glitters. Pudgy fingers worked together with quiet devotion until the necklaces gleamed brighter than a magpie’s nest.

Satisfied smiles were passed through the room. After slipping them on, you led the way to the backyard, to resume the game of pirates you had halted yesterday.

You lifted your hand up as high as you could – ready to reach the sky – fingers clasping an elusive sword. An attempt and a half at a menacing laugh later you shrieked, “I, Black-Beard the Dark, am here to challenge you, Prince Chim Chim the Just! Duel me now or be ready to surrender your treasures.” A slight pause on your part after a gasp from cowering Princess, “And that includes you beautiful bride!”

That cued Jimin wielding his sword and promising to protect Yeeun at all cost, with his life if needed.

Yeeun’s words of encouragement filled the yard along with the chirping of the now emerging summer cicadas.

You clashed with the expertise gained through uncountable previous pursuits of the sort.

In the end, Jimin stood over your ‘fatally wounded’ self and pretended to swoop Yeeun away on a white stallion. Which, none of you ever noticed, was quite the odd sight for the middle of the ocean.

The moment you wake, you’re sent into a wave of unfamiliarity. The ceiling is different. After a few more elongated seconds, the ceiling is what tips you off; you’re at grandpa’s apartment. On drawing the curtain and swinging the window open, you reach the conclusion that the arctic has definitely decided to set up shop in the city. Maybe even a mall. You couldn’t be happier. You would be glad to attend its five-year anniversary if it ever came to be.

You used to consider it a bother, the same way everyone not present in this street does right now. You’re probably generalizing to a zenith never achieved before but a majority of people love summer the way you now love winter. A few revolutions ago, you too partook in frivolous engagements with your friends, enjoying the blaze of the summer sun on your skin. But it is a time you do not feel the urge to retain memories of.

After running through the morning basics and stuffing your face with the omelette and toast grandpa left in the kitchen, you make your way down to the store with a surprising spring in your gait.

It does not go unnoticed by your grandfather. “What’s up with you today?”

The first smile of the day dawns upon the room, “I don’t know. Maybe the frost brings it out of me, grandy-papa.”

“Anything it takes for you, I guess.” Giggles pass and you titter with excitement for something you have not planned.

Conversation goes on as usual, you help with the new shipment of flowers that arrives, clipping stems and thorns, then with making lunch, all with a giddy smile on your face. The entire day seems new, and you’re scared of it. More than being afraid of the tasks you’re doing, what’s scaring you is the novelty of the entire situation.

The bells at the door ring, and you start, the silence disturbed. Your grandpa greets the newcomer. Must be the delivery guy, you decide, so you don’t even bother taking a peek through the curtain that separates the shop from the backroom.

That’s why you downright jump in place when your grandfather cries, “Y/N! Look at who’s finally graced us with their presence.”

It’s Kim Taehyung, looking even more snowman-like than yesterday. He renews his ever-present smile when you enter, and to your surprise you find, there is no need for you to force one on as well – you simply grin wider in acknowledgement.

“He really got me Bundt cake! And the pea seeds!” Pointing at the bubbly paper bag resting on the counter, your grandfather looks more thrilled than a five-year old on Christmas.

Finally done with the process of peeling off his tightly wound scarf, he responds “Of course I did. I said I will, didn’t I?”

Their conversation continues, and you spend the time studying this guy your grandpa is so taken with. He looks normal enough. But you really can’t tell if he’s a serial killer from observing him. Yet.

This appraisal of him continues. You notice how bad it is outside only when he picks the beanie off his head and snowflakes glide through the air to reach either his shoulders or the floor. It makes you feel weirdly sympathetic, judging from the fact that you were trying to gauge if he was planning to kill your grandpa a few seconds ago.

“Do you… would you like some tea? It’s quite bad out there.” An alarm sets off inside you. What are you even attempting here? But it seems the blaring ring remains confined to you and only you, everything is all smiles with the males.

He responds immediately, “I would really appreciate that, thank you.” Your grandpa follows, “Can I get one too, please, my favourite grandchild?” Then directed at Taehyung, “Y/N makes the best chai. You’ll never like any other one after you’ve had hers.”

You smile at both your grandpa’s antics and the compliment, “But my favourite granddad, you can’t have milk or sugar. So, no chai, only lemon tea.”

Your grandfather attempts a pout, confident you won’t be able to fight it, “Pretty pwease, Y/N? You’re my favourite grandchild, can’t you please let me have a cheat day?”

He’s confident in his pout, but you’ve got experience, “Grandpa, I’m your only grandchild, don’t try that on me. Do you want me to make tea at all?” You catch Taehyung snickering openly behind you.

You turn around to face him when he speaks, “You know, I’m okay with tea without milk as well. Anything warm will do.”

“You’re such a good guy, Tae Tae.” Grandpa is quick to land a clap on Taehyung’s back. Tongue poking out, he wiggles his finger at you, directing you towards the stairs.

Eyes screwed close to shut with rage, you head up to the apartment.

The moment you notice the mess you’ve made in the kitchen, the craziest revelations hits you. Are you grandpa jealous?

No. That’s absurd.

You’re left pondering this while the tea disappears from the cups. Light conversation trickles on until the sun looks ready to retire and you’re forced to get up and turn the thermostat up. By the time you return, both your grandfather and Taehyung are standing, brushing imaginary crumbs off themselves.

You watch quietly as Taehyung bundles himself up in god knows how many layers. He really does look like a snowman. A tall one, at that.

“I’ll take my leave then.” You hold in a snort. What is he, fifty? “I hope you like the cake.”

He’s about to shut the door behind him when he turns back around, even though his face is covered by a mask, you can tell just from his eyes that he’s smiling, “And thanks for the tea, Y/N. Maybe I can get a taste of that chai when this lactose intolerant guy isn’t here to whine.”

You simply grin and Taehyung chuckles on his way out when said whiner yelps, “Hey, I’m right here!”

So maybe we will meet again, Kim Taehyung.

“Guys, can I be something else today? I’m don’t want to be the bad guy all the time. Just…” Tired. Tired. Tired.

“Don’t be silly, Y/N! How else can Jimin save the damsel in distress?” Small giggles.

“Just for this one time!” Please. Please. Please.

“No, really, just this one time! We can decide something else for you tomorrow.” Secret smiles.

“Okay. That’s cool.” Not. Not. Not.

You stay with your grandfather for the remainder of the week, and there is absolutely no need to justify it. It’s all because though you can resist his pout when you keep ice cream away, the art of battling the simple smile he gives you morning you’re to leave is something you’re yet to master.

It’s a small -okay- quite a hassle to get to campus, but you haven’t felt this cheerful in such a long time, and you’ll do anything to keep it this way. Eating grandpa’s poor rendition of what he says was your grandmother’s award winning recipe of French toast. Watering the plants in the yard before heading to the bus stop. Smelling like honeynectar in all your classes and actually humming along with the radio while making dinner.

Kim Taehyung remains a pleasant dream in your memory until one evening when you spot your grandfather fussing over a flowerpot, dirt flying everywhere.

Giggles bubble up in your throat, “Grandpa, why in the world have you picked today to search for fossils in the kitchen? In a flowerpot of all places?”

“I’m just planting the pea seeds.” Dirt kept flying onto the newspaper laid on the counter. “After they sprout, I can take them to the yard.”

A simple ‘oh’ left your lips.

That Kim Taehyung hasn’t showed up again. Do you want him to?

It’s almost a week into November and three weeks later when your path crosses with Kim Taehyung.

No matter how much you’d love staying at your grandfather’s place, you do have to go back to your apartment. The store is in downtown, and university on the outskirts. That’s the only reason you moved onto campus in the first place.

Like an addict facing withdrawal symptoms, your entire vision seems to go saturated. Everything you do seems so useless. It seems useless to wake up, it seems useless to eat breakfast, useless to go to class, useless to set an alarm for the next day.

Like any other day, you face the world with your stomach full of soggy cereal. Morning classes are the bane of your existence, but you make it through without any scratches. You don’t what strange twist of fate it makes you head to the café on campus rather than the mess for lunch. But it’s where you see Taehyung, palms wrapped around a cup of what looks like straight up black coffee. The café is pretty cosy (and equipped with ample coat racks) but he has chosen to keep his coat and beanie still on.

His attention is completely on the papers strewn across the small table, so you sneak to the counter, place your order as quickly as possible and sneak to a corner booth. You bring out your textbooks and notes, but all the while, you’re left contemplating whether to approach the guy or not. A few minutes in to play reading your material, it strikes you – why should you even talk to him? It’s not like you are friends. But he makes grandpa happy….

Before you can decide on what to do, your order number flashes on the screen at the counter. You fly up from your seat, hoping to get there before they call out your name. But, shit, did you seriously have to pick that booth? The barista can’t even see you walking there. You flinch as your name is called out. It doesn’t escape Taehyung’s notice. His eyes shoot up from the paper in his hands and fix onto the counter. You grab your tray and keep your eyes trained on it, hoping (fingers crossed) he doesn’t initiate anything as you cross his table.

“Y/N!” You stop in your tracks, relax your damn shoulders and turn around, forcing a smile.

“Taehyung! Hi, I didn’t see you there.”

A narrowing of his eyes is enough to tell you he doesn’t believe one drop of it. “Really? You walked right by me.”

A sheepish grin is all you give in return. You formulate words to get you out of this situation, out of his gaze.

“Won’t you sit down?” He cocks his head to the side, as if that’s something natural you should be doing.

All former plans scrapped, you’re left stranded without an answer. “Uh, well. I can’t intrude, you look busy.”

“Would I be talking to you if I was busy?” Well you can’t argue with that. You recede with an “Okay, sure.”

After setting your tray on the table, you head back to the booth and pack your backpack. By the time you’re back, Taehyung is talking to someone his phone in a low voice and has cleared everything save for his coffee, his fresh bowl of salad and your food.

You sit down and begin eating in silence, staring out on to the street the entire time. You think of something to say once he’s done with the call, but you come up with nothing at all. Soon, you chow through an entire sandwich, watching the traffic outside.

You get so lost in thought that you don’t even notice when Taehyung says his goodbyes and places his phone on the table.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me, Y/N?” The question is asked over the rim of his cup. It feels like his gaze could cut you, and he probably notices your hesitance, because he lowers it, and smiles again. That bloody effortless little smile.

Well, two can play this game. “I don’t know, Taehyung, maybe you’re not trying enough.”

A quirk in his eyebrows. “Let’s change that, then.” A squinting of your eyes. He continues, “What’s your favourite colour?”

Looking back on this a few days later, you realize it’s probably very rude of you, but the moment you register his words, you’re bent over laughing your heart out. A few seconds of open mouthed laughter later, your eyes meet his again, and thankfully, he’s amused.

With a bit of effort, you manage to get a few words out between giggles, “Sorry, you caught me off guard.”

“It’s okay.” He’s grinning, waiting for you to catch your breath. “Mine is green, by the way.”

You cool down by then. Now that he’s shared something, maybe you should as well, “Blue.”

He’s surprised with your simple answer. Maybe he wasn’t expecting anything, especially from your hesitance. Nevertheless, you’ve got his attention now.

And it is this attention that has you looking right into his eyes. “Why?” You ask. A simple question, too simple even. You open your mouth to clarify, but he’s responding before you can.

“It’s pretty basic for a botanist, but I just feel at ease around plants. And in turn, the colour green, I guess.” A genuine smile graces your lips for the first time in days.

“You’re just like my grandpa, you know.” It’s just an observation, but it makes his face light up.

He doesn’t say anything after, but you understand his silent question quite easily, “Blue really calms me down. And it also might have something to do with the fact that grandpa had this weird commitment that he would have a grandson and decorated almost the entire house with blue.”

A bout of light hearted laughter passes, and with it, so does the awkwardness. Neither of you share too much, or too less. You find out that he’s majoring in Biophysics and minoring in horticulture. He finds out that you live on campus and work at a restaurant (without your grandfather’s knowledge) and have already begun paying off your student loans. He in turn, reveals that he too lives on campus, with a roommate majoring in music composition. A few more exchanges of the sort, and you’re running out of time. It’s truly a wonder, how time has skipped the notice of someone who )wants it to pass with the swiftness of light itself.

You explain the circumstances – class followed by a presentation – and say your goodbyes. You’re almost at the door, when Taehyung clears his throat. You turn around with your hand on the handle, expectant.

“Will I, can I ever get a taste of that chai of yours?”

“Come by some time.”

High School was awkward for everyone. Puberty had just struck, and was far from completing its task. One begins seeing people in a different light around that time. And It was no different for you. Only, you wished you accepted the new feelings, and hell, you wished you noticed them at the least.

Any school dance was a nightmare for introverts, and the Sadie Hawkins dance was the zenith of your horrors. What made it even worse, it was the first dance to be held for your grade. Ever.

After an entire day of contemplation, you make up your mind. That afternoon, you and Jimin had volunteered to weed the garden while your grandfather and parents were visiting your relatives. Granted, you were in sweatpants and probably had dirt all over you, but it was the perfect opportunity.

“You heard the announcement today, right?” You tried your absolute best to sound as casual as possible, but you really couldn’t help the slight quiver from entering your words.

“Oh yeah! I’m kind of excited actually.” Your eyes almost burned when you looked up to see his smile. It only prompted you to reflect the same back at him.

“Me too!” You took a deep breath, readying yourself to finally speak you mind. But that chance was taken from you.

“I’m going with Yeeun! We were in history class when the announcement was made, so she asked me there.”

You didn’t know how to react other than with a simple “Oh-!” Jimin was as oblivious as the weeds you were plucking out.

Were you truly disappointed? Even when he said it, you weren’t as shocked as one would expectedly be. Even when you decided to ask him, you had a nagging feeling it wouldn’t work out. Even when you found out about the dance, you felt like your ship had already sunk.

“Who are you planning on asking?” His voice was laced with pure mirth, contrasting with the tedious task at hand.

At first, you planned on creating a reality of weddings and travel to a new land, especially since you were looking at him and he was glowing. Absolutely glowing with anticipation. But then, you looked away from him, and his clear innocence, and it was suddenly very easy to be selfish.

Still staring at the ground, afraid to look back him, you spoke with a newfound knack for the art of theatre, “Well, I was going to ask someone, but he’s already going with someone else. And I don’t really want to ask anyone else.” For someone who was questioning their own feelings and afflictions at the time, you played the part of hurt victim very well. Yet you tried to alleviate the situation, “I’ll probably volunteer as MC or something.”

Though you tried to cover it with your half-assed attempt at reducing the weight of it all, it seemed you had already awoken the unnecessary guilt within Jimin. You (almost) regretted saying anything at all the moment your eyes met his now burdened ones. You knew him well enough to see his inner turmoil through his very breath. But you kept it to yourself, you could not after all, reverse time at will.

“The Musketeers are a unit.” He trailed off, took a deep inhale and continued, a slight mist in his eyes, “We can’t leave one behind, right? Yeeun and I won’t go either. I’m sure we would’ve gotten bored anyway.”

You protest, again, half-assed, and look away. Look away and maybe you won’t feel as terrible as you should.

The Friday after your chance meeting, on the way back home, you stop by the supermarket to restock your supplies (which mainly included three types of tea leaves). You make a cup for yourself and you’re pleasantly unsatisfied. You make a few more cups, one with ginger, one with lemon, masala, cardamom. With each cup you place in the sink, you’re convinced that pleasing your own palate is the only goal of this endeavor. Finally, content with the results, you go to sleep with the scent of chai clinging to your very bones.

Saturday morning is spent cleaning the storefront windows, smearing each inch of the glass with solvent; your eyes focusing and refocusing on the street ahead. Saturday afternoon is spent climbing down from the apartment to answer make believe bell chimes and mythical customers. Saturday evening is spent peering down from the parapet scanning the evening pedestrians for a familiar face, while absentmindedly sprinkling water on the herbs you were tasked with. Saturday night is spent trying to scrub the smell of tea leaves and false hopes off of you.

Sunday is mainly spent glaring at any one who happens to enter the shop and stabbing lunch with a vengeance. Come Sunday evening though, and you’re racking your brain for the best recipe you tried out.

Because he’s here, all smiles and apologies – couldn’t get out of a group project all week. This time he’s welcomed with not one but two pairs of warm arms.

Another duel between your grandfather and you ensues, and is cooled down by Taehyung. He throws a sheepish grin to your grandpa, and directs his words to you “I actually would love some of that chai, Y/N.”

Hence, with a wag of your tongue at your grandfather, you head the kitchen. Once there, it takes you all of five seconds to decide that you’d make plain old chai after all.

Your grandpa glares at - first - the smoothie you hand him and then at yours and Taehyung’s tea for the entire evening. The evening that is filled only with cheer, heavily contrasting the stark bleakness of the pure white world, visible only through the (sparkling clean) windows. You never want it to end. But when he does have to leave, he leaves with unspoken promises of meetings to come.

And he fulfils them. And again. And again. Like the first time, rather than the middle of week – between classes and labs – he makes his trip to the store during the weekends. For a split second, you think this change in his timings is because of, well, you. But you immediately laugh it off.

If the weekdays are when you face withdrawal symptoms, these weekends are your cheat days. Or even, you get drunk on the weekends and face your raging hangover during the week.

Each weekend you discover a bit more of the treasure trove that is Kim Taehyung. You’d have it no other way.

You stared at the DVDs stacked on the coffee table – on loan from a classmate. You glanced at the oven timer, which was ticking down the time left for your grandpa’s casserole to roast to perfection. You tried to ignore the sickly buttery scent that had spread through the house. You settled on watching the second hand on the wall clock tick down the minutes until your impending death. 6:19, an hour and eleven minutes for the dance to start.

You were contemplating the amount of time it would take one to get dressed when your grandfather burst into the living room, soda bottles in tow.

“These are the ones you kids like, right? I bought a few, in case you didn’t like a certain one.” Maybe he noticed the downcast expression. Or the eyes that looked like a deer in headlights. “Honey, Y/N, are you okay?”

The dam broke. Tears and choked gasps filled the room. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, grandpa, I didn’t mean to hurt him!”

You vaguely remembered your granddad sitting you down on the couch, and asking you something. You ignored it all. “Call them. Tell him I’m sick, that we can’t…tell them to go to the dance.” You contemplated for a second and you realized that won’t wouldn’t work. “No. Tell them, tell them we have to meet grandma at the hospital or something. If he knows I’m not well, he won’t go. Tell them, grandpa. Tell him.”

The stringent tone probably did the job. Your grandfather scrambled up to the phone. He reached Jimin’s mother and relayed the news quickly, thankfully, and sat beside you. “Y/N, you know, I don’t what that was about, but you’re going to have to talk to me about it.”

“I know. Just… I just… don’t let him come here.”

That night, as you laid on your bed, you decided to never, ever take advantage of a situation, no matter how selfless someone might be. Because all it would prove, was how selfish you really were. The cat would really be out of the bag, then, wouldn’t it?

The holiday season is approaching, and fast. On the negative side, that means approaching deadlines and approaching hair loss. On the positive side though, it means infrequent classes and more spent with your grandfather. It is only a given that your meetings with Taehyung have increased as well. His classes have completely ceased and he has only lab work left to do.

Though time spent at your grandpa’s feels like a surreal dream, your days back at your dorm room make you numb. So much so, that you sometimes have to stop yourself, physically, from getting up and leaving class. Today is on the dark end of the spectrum, so you head to that little café again.

Ever since fateful last minute decision that day, you’ve been coming back here. Always taking a peek in before even crossing the road. When you don’t recognize any one (which is every single time), you heave a sigh and walk in, though you’re not sure if the sigh is one of disappointment or joy.

Today, you don’t sigh, or even peep inside. Your bones are begging for respite and your stomach is growling for food. You settle yourself at the counter and order. When the barista serves your food with the usual smile, it doesn’t occur to you to smile back.

Nothing else to do, your mind wanders outside. The supermarket on the other side of the road is packed, even for mid-day in the middle of winter. So is the café, more people keep streaming in and none seem to leave. A draught of cold air is the last thing you notice before your eyes shut on their own accord and you take an impromptu nap with your head resting on the counter.

The café is close to empty when you wake. You rub your eyelids, trying your best to purge the remaining bleariness. The barista approaches you with a smile, not so practised this time. You reach for your bags immediately; he’s probably kicking you out or something.

He picks up on your movements, “Hey, no big deal, you can stay. I’m here to deliver something.” You fix him with a stare. “From Taehyung, relax.”

Your single-minded glare still doesn’t evaporate. He continues, “He came in two-ish hours ago. You were knocked out even then. Before he left he gave me something and asked me to pass it on.”

He brings the said ‘something’ out from under the counter, and the hostility finally leaves your features. “And she finally believes me!” The barista – Hoseok, by his name tag – grins wide.

You take it with a small thanks and head out. Thankfully enough, though slightly weird, it seems warmer than the afternoon. The entire ride back, you spend trying to decide which vase you’ll use for the bouquet. It’s unnecessary to say you scared a few people on the bus with your infinite grin.

Your eyes were wet. Wetter than the ocean itself. They had been for the entire day. It surprised at first, how many tears were rolling out. You don’t remember when you had a sip pf water last. Yet the streams kept flowing.

You could say your graduation gown was ruined.

In utmost clarity, you could picture your eagerness for today – graduation, free from school, onwards to college and your life. You scoffed at your ignorance. But you understood, ignorance is bliss. If it was possible, you’d give anything to keep the knowledge you now had out of your reach.

The knowledge being your grandmother passed away early this morning with your grandfather at her side. With no sign of you. Because when your grandmother called then, wanting to meet you before today’s ceremony, you sighed – exasperated – and said you’d meet her after. I need some sleep, granny. I had a long day. And handed the phone to your grandpa.

That tiny little act of selfishness. Why? Why did you take advantage of the situation? Again? You really didn’t learn a lesson, after all. Your walls were cracking. Worse, in a few moments, they would crumble altogether. Now everyone could see the true you.

The arrival of Taehyung’s bouquet of flowers has brought about changes. Two, to be precise, both welcome and unwelcome. For starters, the presence of the flowers has made you notice the lack of flowers of them around the apartment. So a few days ago, you had lugged a few flowerpots back from the store and set them up around the house, each stationed like guards holding down the fort.

The unwelcome change, though, you’d rather ignore it a while more. But it seems like you’ll have to accept it today.

You swing your legs from the counter as you snip the leaves off of rose stalks. You kept silent for the last week, but you can’t anymore. “Grandpa, has Taehyung come around this week?”

“No, Y/N, he hasn’t. But” he adds, “It’s just a few days, he’ll show up sometime.” He looks so unaffected by it. Is this normal? Does Taehyung go off the radar like this often?

You know you’re toeing the line of suspicion here. “Shouldn’t we call him?”

“I would, but I don’t want to bother the kid.” So, he has his number. “It’s finals week, isn’t it?” You nod. “Then, he’s probably busy with that.”

Snip. The last leaf from the bunch falls off the stem. Much like the conversation.

Okay. Taehyung can do whatever he wants. He can show up whenever, leave whenever, disappear whenever. He’s not responsible for anything here, and certainly doesn’t need to do anything to please others.

The night you go back to your apartment, you can’t help but sneak glances at the various flowers around the house. It’s almost as if you expect a certain someone to manifest in their place. A bunch of tea roses catches your attention and takes you back to the day you first laid eyes on Kim Taehyung. You take slow steps towards it. You run your fingers through the leaves. This too brings back an eerily similar image of your outstretched hand.

What were you planning to say then? ‘Happy Anniversary?’ No. No, you almost said, “Hope your wife likes it.” Which is almost infinitely worse. What if he has a husband? You should stop going down that hetero-normative track before you offend someone. What if he isn’t even married? But the flowers in the arrangement were very specific. Ok.

Even if he is, who were you to him say that? Think about it? Worse still, how did you manage to get so attached even after knowing he had someone waiting for him after he left you? Wouldn’t this desk look better empty? It definitely would. What would these roses look like on the pavement? Leaning down from the window facing the street, you decide they look perfectly miserable there.

You sleep facing away from the window, hiding your damp cheeks from the moonlight.

Your eyes were dry. Drier than the desert itself. They had been for the entire day. It surprised you at first, the lack of feeling in your eyes. You don’t remember the last time you felt anything. Must be the shock, you told yourself. Yet you and the voice in your head both know very well; you got over the shock a long time ago.

You could say everything was ruined.

In utmost clarity, you could picture your eagerness for today – university, free from this town, onwards from these memories, to life at your dream college with your best friends. You scoffed at your ignorance. But you understood, ignorance is bliss. If it was possible, you’d give anything to keep the knowledge you now had out of your reach.

Yes, you could say everything was ruined. But you really couldn’t bring yourself to give a single fuck.

You basically move back with your grandfather for the holidays. Taehyung is still missing in action. Thanksgiving is spent on the terrace, eating chicken instead of turkey and sipping on lime soda. Every day is spent in monotonous repetition of every other day. Wake up at 5 AM, get ready, make and eat breakfast with your grandpa, prepare the batch of flowers that arrive, and so on.

To someone observing your life your afar, it might seem you exchanged a dreary life during the semester for an equally bleak life at the shop for winter break. But really, you’d make the trade any day. Studying design at university is great, you picked it after all, but honestly, you’d lost the spark long ago.

Once in a while, you picked yourself up long enough to impress your professor(s). “So much potential, Y/N. I don’t know what’s holding you back,” said almost all of your teachers at university. “Maybe you should find yourself a muse. A muse to you push the talent out of you.”

Little did they know your muse is 3000 miles away, spending his days creating art with his own muse.

For now, you got your supply of happiness from the shop and spending time with your grandfather. You’re ready to spend any free bit of time with him, and you thank the universe for every chance you get.

And who is to say you’re bored? With all the practice you’re getting, your grandpa claims you’ll make better arrangements than him one day soon. You doubt it, but you continue practicing everything. If anything, it helps keep your thoughts at bay.

Day by day, the flower arrangements get grander and more frivolous. Counting down until three days before Christmas when you wrap them up and pack them in boxes, to be sent across the country. Your grandfather would follow them in a more passenger friendly plane. And you’ll stay here. Making arrangements – devoid of tea roses and peonies – and tending shop.

It’s a long story. Your grandpa’s best friend’s grandson eloped and got married at court and was now holding a reception. Which is good news, your grandfather loves wedding and such. Preparations began at the shop early; receptions are a pain in the ass. Sadly, for all the work you put into this stranger’s day, you don’t get even get the chance to eat some cake. Aeroplanes, trains, buses – they’re all completely booked; it’s the holiday season, what else?

You decide that it is alright; you’ll hold down the fort. More like, you force yourself to decide.

The moment your grandfather utters your name you know what he’s aiming for. “Y/N, you know I don’t want to do this.”

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I know you love weddings, grandpa. Stop lying.” His eyes glimmer at the wording, you add drily, “That includes receptions too.”

“Ok, I do.” An eye roll to end all eye rolls from you. “But I don’t want to leave you here, and neither am I doing this on purpose.”

You feign outrage with a palm pressed to your collarbones, “Leave me? On purpose? Who would ever have a nightmarish thought of abandoning me?”

The quip was supposed to lighten the mood, but all it achieves is darkening the atmosphere even further.

“We’ll open presents after I come back, okay?”

“Sure, grandpa.” You disguise a grimace as a smile. “Have a nice trip.”

You flipped the sign over to read ‘CLOSED’. You went to bed with your eyes bone dry.

“Y/N, it won’t be that bad. Skype won’t shut down anytime soon!” Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“We’ll come back every Thanksgiving!” I asked you to shut up.

And, no you won’t.

“Y/N.” Don’t you dare.

“I really promise, we’ll visit!” Like hell you will.

“Y/N.”

“Fucking shit, Jimin. What is it? Just say it.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry for this.”

“You don’t have to be.” Oh, you really do not, not, not.

“But I am. I’m sorry, but this is what is the best for me.” Oh, but it’s not, not, not.

“That’s why I’m happy for you, Jiminie.” Oh, but I’m not, not, not.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“This isn’t goodbye.” Oh, but it is, it is, it is.

Customers are not as frequent as it would seem. The shop is placed in one of the busiest lanes of the shopping district, but it mainly attracts people asking for large decorations and such. And those are usually ordered through email.

You sift through the bridal magazines that were delivered this morning. Crazy new trends keep popping up every month. As much as you want to catch up, it’s almost painful to look at the magazines. Every turn of the page driving the knife deeper into you. Every turn of the page making it truer. That crazy guy is probably married.

Two intertwined tea roses – for engagement or anniversaries – peonies, symbolizing a happy marriage and heliotropes, as well. Hell, if it wasn’t for a marriage anniversary, you’d have to get medication for your grandfather.

You are quarter of the way through the third when someone beyond the glass catches your eye; a head of curls you’d notice anywhere and a gait that could never escape your notice.

Unlike in books and movies, where it takes the protagonist a second or two to register something, your brain understood a lot quicker than you wished it would. What you would give for a second more of peace before the lighting struck.

You’re too busy staring out of the store to notice the chime of the door-bells. Only when Taehyung waves his hand in front of yours, do you break out of your trance.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think I just did.”

A/N: Please point out any spelling/grammatical errors!

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