#florist!jeno | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multifandomslxt · 1 year

Text

BLACK ROSES

Pairing: Mafia!Lee Jeno x Florist!Reader

Trope: Grumpy x sunshine

Genre: Dark Mafia Romance

Word Count: 1.5K

Synopsis:

Lee Jeno is a dangerous man. From going on k!lling sprees for fun to torturing and k!lling his own father. He does it all. In short Lee Jeno is the devil.

Y/N is a florist. She's as pure as they come. Nothing exciting ever happens in her life and she’s okay with that. In short Y/N is an angel.

He was bad and she was good. They were complete opposites.

…Or so they thought

Get your tissues for this one. It's gonna be one hell of a ride

*((((A/N- I'll continue this based on the feedback I get...enjoy my loves <;33)))))*

FLOWER OF THE DAY: Daffodils are some of the first flowers we see in springtime and are a great indicator that winter is over. Because of this, they are seen to represent rebirth and new beginnings.

"Y/N, can you look in the back room if they're any more peonies left? Mrs. Lee just ordered a dozen" The sweet old lady shouted out while using her pale wrinkly hand to cover the phone so the person would hear her shouting.

Y/N jumped at the sudden shouting coming from the front desk. She was sat in the break room with her nose stuck in a book, something she usually did when she had nothing else to do around the small shop. "Okay, Izzy." Y/Nreplied.

She placed the book on the table beside her not before folding the page at the corner to mark where she had left off (a habit she had picked up from her mother a few years back) got up and dusted off her jeans then headed to the storage room.

Y/N searched the room high and low before coming to the conclusion that there were no more peonies in the storage room.

"Izzy I'm afraid we have no more peonies." She told the sweet old lady in a solemn voice.

She always felt awful when her favorite customers couldn't receive their orders.

Izzy, the sweet old lady sighed " Mrs.Lee, I'm afraid we're out of stock on those, you can check tomorrow when we restock. I'm deeply sorry"

Mrs. Lee on the other side of the phone reassured Izzy "It's okay old friend, I'll be sure to come personally tomorrow to check. Goodbye Isabella"

"Goodbye " Izzy hung up the phone

Y/N had made her way back to the break room while Izzy and Mrs. Lee were talking.

Can't really blame her, she was excited to finish the book.

"You'll never leave that book alone will you?" Izzy spoke standing at the doorway of the room.

"Nope, never ever" Y/N replied popping the 'p'.

The old lady smiled at the young woman who continued to read the book she had read a thousand times before.

The old lady loved Flora dearly, she reminded her of her granddaughter who had passed away from leukemia.

"I baked some cookies before I left this morning would you like some?" Izzy asked already knowing the answer,

The girl was a foodie with a ginormous sweet tooth.

"Of course I do! Izzy this is food we're talking about" Y/N rushed out suddenly standing up.

Izzy chuckled at Flora's antics and handed her the container filled with double chocolate chip cookies that she previously hid behind her back.

"Thank you!" Y/Nyelled out in excitement.

Books and food the perfect mix.

Izzy left Y/N in the break room to resume her reading and eating. There was nothing else left to do for the day anyway.

Before they knew it, it was time to go home.

"Goodbye Y/N, get home safely okay? Don't talk to-" the old lady was cut off by Flora's playful tone

"-Strangers, I know Izzy, I'm 22 not 12. You do the same m'kay? I don't wanna have to punch somebody" Flora stated seriously

"Okay darling, see you tomorrow " Isabella replied before getting in her car

"Bye Izzy" Y/N shouted out to Isabella who was already out of the parking lot.

..................................................................................................................................

Half an hour later Y/N was in the comfort of her own home stuffing her face with seasoned mac n cheese.

She let out a long sigh before plopping herself on her cheap, old, blue couch that she had bought at a garage sale for forty dollars.

The couch was practically falling apart.

She stared at the chipped cream walls of her apartment and allowed her thoughts to take over.

How am I gonna pay rent this month? The shop is barely getting any sales.

How am I gonna pay for groceries? I've been eating mac n cheese for three months straight now.

Maybe I should go back ho-

Her thoughts were cut off by her cell phone ringing

Who's that girl by EVE blaring out of the speaker

Her screen flashed the caller ID

'IZZY<3'

Y/N picked up the phone and answered

"Hello sweetheart, I'm not feeling too well tonight so I'm going to the doctor tomorrow could you possibly go to work a little earlier than usual to fill in for me?"

"Sure Izzy that's not a problem. Is the spare key still kept in the same place?"

"Yes it is, thanks again love, you're an angel, also Mrs. Leeis coming to pick up the peonies she wanted tomorrow tell her I apologize for not being able to make it okay?" Izzy replied in a weak voice.

"Alright old lady g'night and get some rest please" Y/N said.

Eventually, they both hung up and Y/N decided that it was time for bed.

She had to wake up at 7 tomorrow to prep and open the store.

POV SWITCH

Y/N💐

It was already 7:49 when I reached the store. I was a little late but that didn't matter. Izzy wasn't here to tell me off anyway.

Standing at the door of the shop my eyes started wandering among the heap of black plant pots to find the worn red Russian doll

"Eureka" I whispered when I finally spotted it.

I picked it up and started breaking down each layer until I found the spare key.

With a forceful push of the old wooden door

I was finally inside the store I had grown to love.

The store was weirdly quiet thanks to Izzy's absence but again, that didn't matter right now. She trusted me enough to manage the store on my own for a day so I won't disappoint her.

Dropping my shoulder bag on the front desk I walked over to the staff notice board and memories the schedule for today

8:00-8:30 delivery of new stock

8:30-9:15 restock the flowers CORRECTLY

BREAK

10:15-12:00 Make new bouquets for display

BREAK

Do whatever the heck you want after that until closing

I giggled at the last bit "of course she would write something like this"

It was understandable though the store wasn't that popular and we didn't have many sales.

With a sigh, I looked up at the clock that hung on the wall above the board

8:01 it read. Good, that means the delivery truck will be here any min-

The doorbell chimed signaling that someone had entered the store.

"Any minute" I finished

"Hey, Ricky, y'know your like 2 minutes late right? Izzy's gonna eat you alive for this " I laughed with my back still turned towards the door.

"I'm not Ricky" an unfamiliar voice said.

I quickly spun around to find a tall lean man dressed in a suit.

"Who are you?" I asked surprised

"A customer. I ordered previously I'm here to pick it up" He responded.

He had an accent.

I loved men with accents.

Fuck.

Clearing my throat I made my way to the small computer at the corner of the table

"Name?" I questioned

"Lee Gyun-hee " he replied shortly

I looked up from the screen "huh? What'd you say?"

"Lee Gyun-hee ." he repeated

Maybe I'm going blind or something because the person standing in front of me claiming to be Mrs. Lee did not look like Mrs. Lee.

Mrs. Lee was female

This person was not

Mrs. Lee was barely 5'6

This man was not

"Um....see...here's the thing I would give you the flowers but I can't" I stated

"And why is that?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Because you aren't Mrs. Lee" I vocalized

"이 멍청한 여자. Obviously not. I'm her son, Jeno" He said rudely.

Now my Korean (I'm assuming) might not be the best but it didn't take long for me to figure out that he was insulting me.

This rude bitch.

"You're the one who's lost all common sense. How was I to magically assume that you were her son? For all I know you could have been a stalker or something. I am many things Mr. Lee but a mat is not one of them so don't try to walk all over me. Kindly get that through your thick skull." I offered him a tight smile.

His body went rigid and we both stood in silence for a while.

That was until he took one long stride and was suddenly leaning on the tabletop baring his teeth at me like a fucking dog.

It was hot.

no, it wasn't.

Because of the close proximity, I could now admire his facial features. My eyes immediately went to his pink lips lips

Then his Sharp jaw could probably cut concrete

His big nose led me to believe...stuff.

And.....sweet baby reindeer.....his eyes

Double fuck.

His eyes were practically drilling through me.

Oh fuck me.

He suddenly smirked "You would like that wouldn't you"

My eyes widened realizing I said that out loud

Suddenly he used his index finger to trace from my jaw to my lips, then he used his thumb skimmed over my bottom lip

"How bad do you want me to fuck you?" he asked

I gasped "Let's not...have this type of discussion"

he smirked "Don't be ashamed I wouldn't have a problem giving you what you want"

I folded my lips not knowing how to react in the least - I only get sexual experiences and confrontations from books- virgin way possible.

"Cat got your tongue?" He laughed

I rolled my eyes and stepped back.

Yes

"No"

You're hot

"You're not as hot as you think you are asshole"

Triple fuck.

312 notes · View notes

jungnoir · 6 years

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language of the flora;

⇢ summary: jeno’s too shy to confess his crush on you with words, the barista who works next door to his flower shop, so he decides a clever alternative is through the language of flowers. there is only one problem... you’re not that fluent in plant.

⇢ relationship: lee jeno/reader.

⇢ genre: florist!au, romance, fluff, humor.

⇢ words: 9.9k

⇢ warnings: amateur understanding of flowers by author, probably.

a/n: this photo does things to me. also! i’m trying something new: no gif this time. this is technically a christmas story but i’m a day late ;-; pls accept

april.

There a few things that Lee Jeno is particularly good at; none of which include flirting, as though one might think.

It was hard to imagine the teenager having a hard time with love, seeing as he was so handsome and naturally charming without having to try. He was the type of boy high school students younger than him would giggle about behind their hands and draw hearts around his name in their diaries, though they’d never tell a soul. He was the type of boy old ladies thought reminded them of when they were younger, of a time when there was a boy just like him that made all the others swoon. He was the type of boy that you thought stepped right out of a slice of life drama or a shouju manga. He made you feel peaceful every time you saw him, all bright eyes and toothy smiles as he’d ask customers what special occasion brought them in that day. Sometimes, his smile really did put those flowers to shame.

But no matter how charming he was to everyone else, it seemed that he was either a really good actor or he was only destined to malfunction in the presence of one person. That one person being you.

You weren’t able to miss the flower shop the first time you’d seen it, nine months ago in warm July as you stepped up to La La Cafe for your first ever job interview. It was brightly decorated in flowers of all sorts of colors, the large glass windows out front letting in light from the outside and letting you peek in to the inside. You had only looked for so long, just barely catching a glimpse of a brunette employee at the counter handing a little old lady a bouquet of lilies before you realized you would be late to your interview if you strayed too long.

After you’d gotten the job, you’d found yourself passing the flower shop everyday to get to work, and each day you’d peek inside to look for the brunette employee. Everyday, he was there. He had utterly entranced you with those eye smiles of his and the sunny disposition he gave off as he helped customer after customer, and yet not once did he ever seem to notice your set of curious eyes following his movements for a few moments each morning.

It had gone on for so long that you had started to feel like a grade A creep, but you couldn’t say you felt bad for simply looking. Maybe one day you’d muster up the courage to go in and talk to him, but that thought had quickly left you the minute life started to pick back up for you. Between work and classes, you had somewhat abandoned your idea of visiting the flower shop and the handsome brunette who worked in it.

That was, until you started taking your break outside.

The coffee shop had a cute little veranda out front, staffed with tables and comfy chairs to enjoy your treats in the calm. In the summer, it was way too hot to be sitting out there, but you always loved the time before it. It was neither too cold (like winter) nor too hot. Spring had become a perfectly rainy, warm season that aroused annoying little allergies more than goosebumps. This was your favorite time to sit out there with a cup of tea and a sandwich as you enjoyed what little time you had after the majority of the lunch rush dissipated each weekend.

Had you not been so caught up in the sweetness of your tea, you might not have even noticed that someone was standing outside the veranda, wide eyes staring you down in an almost shocked manner. You realized with belated shock that it was the brunette you’d been eyeing for months.

He was currently holding a potted plant in hand, mid-turn it seemed when he had spotted you, and he looked a lot like a lost puppy when you waved to him after a few moments of silence, “Hi!”

Well, you were new.

Jeno had often come by the La La Cafe in his past to grab something quick before his shift started at the flower shop. Since he worked so often, he needed the extra caffeine to get him up and running for the customers he’d face throughout the day, though he hadn’t been in a long while. It also helped that his friends Donghyuck, Mark, and Renjun worked at that same cafe as well. If he wasn’t able to stop by, they would take it upon themselves to visit the shop with his usual in hand and pester him about this and that until their manager started to look for them. They usually never got in much trouble seeing as Jeno was a beloved customer, but still...

He finally registers that you’ve greeted him and it’d be polite to greet you back, raising his hand to wave to you. However, he realizes too late that both hands were needed to hold the pot in his grasp, and as soon as he lets one hand go, it falls to his feet and crashes onto the concrete.

You’re up on your feet in seconds, frowning and rushing over to the flower shop storefront where the mess now laid; pieces of jagged, brown ceramic from the once intact pot now lay scattered across the ground in the mess of a heap of wet dirt and a little budding flower in the middle of it all. You and the stranger drop to a crouch at the same time, both reaching for the same piece at once and flinching when fingers meet glove. The boy looks up, a dusty pink blush settling on his cheeks, “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

You almost want to scold him for apologizing, “Don’t be! I distracted you, not the other way around... will you have to pay for this pot?”

He looks at the pieces and frowns, nodding minutely as he starts to grab another piece instead, carefully cradling it to his apron covered chest. He stops nodding when he sees the upset look on your face though, “It’s okay! My boss is really nice, it’s just one little pot. Please don’t feel bad.” And then he shines that familiar, sunshine-y smile at you and you feel your insides turn to utter goo. A breeze blows by and brushes his brunette locks into his eyes, making him look even more unreal. How could a boy look so much like the personification of warmth?

“Are you sure? I can pay for it.” You say, though internally you wince as you think of forking over cash for the pot. You were painfully saving up for that new car you really wanted, and every little bit counted.

Before you can think of going to retrieve your wallet, he places a gloved hand on top of yours and smiles again, “You can do something else for me actually, if you really feel bad. Can you scoop up some of the dirt here while I go get another pot?” He pulls off his gloves and hands them to you, you taking them with uncertainty in your eyes that he seems to ignore.

He stretches his long legs and nods at you, mouthing “one second” before disappearing back into the shop.

You aren’t sure what to make of the situation just yet, a little flustered from the handsome boy who you had been admiring for quite a while just... happening to show up like this. It left you a little breathless.

You decided if you were going to absolve yourself of this guilt you were feeling, you’d have to do your duty and scoop up the dirt like he asked. Slipping on his gloves and noting how warm they were, you start to carefully scoop up what you can, being careful as you come across the small, budding flower. Just in time, the boy comes back with a new pot and holds it out toward you as soon as he’s close enough, instructing you to drop it in.

Once it’s inside, he carefully presses down the dirt around the flower, checking that all is right with it. You can’t help but ask: “What type of flower is that?”

He looks surprised when he hears you ask, almost like he’d forgotten you were even there as he tended to the flower. He laughs nervously and holds it out to you for a closer look, “It’s going to be a calla lily. A little girl who comes by the shop sometimes wanted to take care of a plant, but her mother doesn’t think she’s responsible enough yet, so we made a deal for me to keep it here and let her come by and care for it... actually, you probably didn’t want to know all of that.” The boy suddenly shies away a bit, holding the pot closer to himself. You swear you’ve never seen anything more adorable.

“No! That’s really cute actually. Very nice of you, too.” “It is? I just want to share my love of flowers with others,” he looks from your eyes to the plant, never staring at one thing for too long. You wonder how he went from being so cute and bright to being a nervous wreck before you, but still think quietly to yourself that it’s endearing, “people who take the time to care for living things unlike themselves are usually pretty great people, in my opinion.”

“Sounds like you’re tooting your own horn.” You smirk mirthfully, watching as he stutters in astonishment. He looks mortified, stuttering over his words as he attempts to form a good reply when you wave him off with a laugh, “Just kidding.”

He looks both relieved and embarrassed, fumbling with the new pot so much that you think he might drop this one too. You have your hands open at your sides just in case. Carefully, you stand again and peel off his gloves, holding them out before realizing he probably still needs both hands for the pot. Instead of letting him make another mistake, you reach forward and stuff the gloves into the open pocket at the front of his apron, coming a little close to do so. You swear you can hear a muted breath of surprise from the florist before you’ve pulled away completely.

You glance at the time on your watch and curse softly, “Darn, I don’t have much break time left. Do you need help sweeping this up?” You ask, looking from the mess still on the ground to him, but he shakes his head stiffly in response. “Okay, see you around!”

You turn to go collect your food and make your way back to the cafe doors before you realize something, twisting around just in time to catch the boy almost disappearing into his own shop as well. You shout your name to him and he stops, looking over at you and blinking in confusion. You laugh, “That’s my name. What’s yours?”

He seems to start when he figures out your intentions and calls back at equal volume, “I’m Jeno! Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jeno. Tell carnation girl she’s doing a great job!” You wave your hand and scoop up your things, smiling at him once more before entering the cafe with a genuine smile on your face. You brush past Donghyuck, the resident troublemaker at work, who looks you over a few times before following closely after you to the break room.

“What’s that smile for?” He questions, tone lifted in a curious tint that you know spells trouble for you. Regardless, you know withholding information from him would only make him stick to you more, so you relent.

Setting your things down on the nearby coffee table, you turn to him with your hands on your hips, “I was talking to the boy who works next door.”

Donghyuck’s eyebrows raise, “Jeno? Like a tall,” Donghyuck positions his hand a few inches over his head, “brunette, kinda awkward dude around our age?”

You blink at him, “...Yeah.”

The boy chuckles, face falling into an expression of unsettling (for you, anyway) contentment. He folds his arms over his chest and you watch his lack of muscle flex at the action, “I ship it.” “We just met.” “It’s too late. A florist and a barista? How cute is that?”

july.

From that day forward, you had found yourself taking refuge on the patio with your little lunch and your phone, mindlessly scrolling through social media until the bell on the door of the flower shop would ding, signaling your entertainment for the day. Jeno would walk out and get to work tending to the flowers that lined the storefront, spot you, wave, and then get back to work. You hated to stare, really, but you also really enjoyed watching the boy work. He’d drag his bottom lip between his teeth and furrow his brows when he was trying to be extra delicate with a plant, though you doubted he need focus so much.

You had even once likened him to an incarnation of Persephone, or maybe a child of her. His natural way with nature had kept you even more fixated on him for weeks, much to Donghyuck’s intense amusement. Word spread from him to Renjun and then lastly to Mark (the eldest having taken the longest to catch on, bless his soul), and by the time the season was over, all three of your goofy co-workers were trying to set you up with the florist who just had to be one of their good friends too.

It was a slow day one late summer afternoon, your eyes threatening to roll back into your head if you had to sit idle any longer. There were usually a good number of patrons when it was this hot out and people were dying for something to cool off with, but you hadn’t seen a soul in the last half hour and there was talk of even higher temperatures by next week that had you wanting nothing more than to slip into the nearest pool and chill. However, you had to save up for the holiday season, so you were cursed to be here for the entirety of your shift and to not complain.

Donghyuck was out sick (he’d actually fallen asleep sun-tanning and now had quite severe sunburn), Renjun was on a trip with his family, and Mark was currently napping on one of the tables, having left the entire shop to you (you had half a mind to scribble all over his face with your sharpie, if only he hadn’t covered for you so many times before since you’d started working there).

You’re about to let yourself rest when you feel a gush of warm air fill the air-conditioned room, your eyelids snapping back open to see who had decided to come in at that very moment.

And there he stands in a very loose blue tank and cargo shorts, hair recently cut short and sticking to his hairline with a light sheen of sweat. Jeno looks a little bashful as he enters, taking notice of the drooling Mark Lee and then you, eyes wide and staring at him like he had three heads. He walks further inside the shop, shooting you a tentative smile, “Slow day?”

Immediately you perk up, almost embarrassingly so, and try to plaster on the most not-sleepy smile you can, “Kinda! But you’re here to change that, aren’t you?”

Jeno giggles softly, taking out his wallet from his back pocket, “I feel bad I didn’t bring a steady flow of customers along with me, but I’m sure your boss will let you two off early. The streets are nearly dead. It’s way too hot to be walking around today.”

You look toward the clock on the wall and sigh, “I wish. What can I get you in the meantime, sweetheart?” You try really hard not to grin in triumph when Jeno’s cheeks turn an incriminating red.

“J-just an iced raspberry tea. Extra raspberries, please.” He sets down three ones and two quarters, the exact change for the drink, and you take it graciously.

Looking over the money, you decide to start up a little conversation, “You get this often?”

Jeno nods in confirmation, twisting this way and that as you make his drink for him. You take care to show just how many raspberries you were putting in it before capping it off and handing it to him, watching the way his eyes light up when the cool plastic reaches his fingertips. He takes a small sip and sighs in ecstasy, “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“But you said you get it often.” You laugh, tilting your head to the side at him. The boy takes another sip and nods, shuffling around cutely as he does so.

“Yes... but this is the first time you’ve ever made it for me. I think I prefer it to Renjun’s formula but don’t tell him I said that.” His compliment flusters you a bit and you wonder quietly if he was getting you back for making him stutter earlier, though you doubted he was so vengeful. Or was he...?

“As much as I’d love to see the offended look on his face if I did, I won’t get you in trouble. So long as you promise to keep visiting when I’m on shift. I don’t want you missing out on ‘the best thing you’ve ever tasted’ now, do I?” Feeling bold, you hold out your pinky to him for a promise, his own eyes zeroing in on said appendage in surprise before reaching out his free hand and linking his own pinky with it, blinking rapidly when you squeeze his tight and shake it up and down like a deal. You find it so adorable how Jeno can switch between borderline flirtatious and shy, nervous mess all at once. You couldn’t tell what would make him nervous next, but it was cute watching it unfold either way.

You hear something ringing in the background and you recognize it as your phone, somewhere in the break room and blaring your ringtone through the closed door. You jump in surprise and release Jeno’s pinky quickly, letting his hand hover awkwardly where you left it to go retrieve your phone, “Sorry Jeno, gotta get that! Enjoy your tea!” You call, shooting him a smile before rushing into the back.

By the time you actually get to your phone, you’ve missed the call. You stare at the screen as a text follows the missed call notification soon after, your mother alerting you that she would be picking up dinner from that Thai restaurant you both loved tonight. You send her a quick affirmative and make your way out of the break room, tossing the phone back on top of your backpack before letting the door close behind you.

It’s only when you arrive back at the counter that there is another customer there, looking relieved when they see you. You immediately put on your best smile (though it pales in comparison to the one you’d given Jeno), and greet the customer with the usual “hi, how are you?” spiel.

In the midst of taking and returning the change the customer gives you, you watch the woman point somewhere near the cash register out of the corner of your eye, your mind more focused on getting her exact money back than anything, “That’s a pretty gardenia there.”

You hum, not thinking much of it, and hand her her money back. Just as you’re about to turn around and get started on her smoothie, you realize that there is a flower there that you don’t think was there before. It’s white, the “gardenia” you guess, and it stands in the tip bucket right next to the register. You can’t remember if it was there before or not, but its presence is curious.

“A gardenia, you said it was?” You ask the woman, starting on her drink.

She nods and smiles, though looking a little surprised at you, “You didn’t know? That’s your tip jar, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling a little out of it as you try to place if that flower had been there before or not. Its origin is tricky to recall in your mind, despite how blatantly bright it is for you to even miss it in the first place.

When you finish the customer’s smoothie and give it to her, she smiles and nods to the flower with a sparkle of something unknown to you in her eyes, “Hm, I guess it’s fitting you don’t know where it came from. Lucky you.”

You blank and follow her retreating form well until it has left the building altogether, still leaving you there with an empty silence, a sleeping Mark, and a “gardenia” you have no idea where it materialized from. You look at the flower in awe, plucking it from your jar and turning it this way and that. It’s real, and relatively fresh, which means it had to be placed there recently. You think back to how many people had come in today, but only one name sticks out in your mind.

Walking from behind the counter and up to a window, you peek out to where the flower shop is, finding no trace of Jeno outside at all, gardenia still clutched in your fingers with a question you aren’t sure how to ask. What had that woman meant by ‘lucky you’ after all?

november.

Your plans to google the flower’s meaning disappear like the summer season, and you’re back to working on weekends or after school like before. Your car funds have grown exponentially since last summer, and you were already getting on top of Christmas presents for your family distant and near. With the coming autumn weather, you had started to see Jeno less and less, adding to your disappointment coming into work. Yours and the boys’ schedules moved around naturally, and sometimes you’d go days without seeing one of them. You chalked it up to the cold weather making you feel lonely, but it wasn’t exactly fun being a high school senior these days.

Nothing makes you smile quite like music though, and you find yourself sitting outside the cafe with hands shoved in your pockets and earphones in your ears, if only to avoid the bustle of customers inside whose voices carry over the lyrics playing in your ears. While it’s cold, you don’t realize just how cold until you feel a warm, glove-covered hand press to your cheek. The temperature difference and sudden touch is shocking, enough to make you jolt and open your once closed eyes in surprise.

You hadn’t expected Jeno of all people to be standing there, bent double before you with a cutely red tinted nose. He blinks when your eyes meet his, and you can hear him say something behind his thick scarf wrapped around his mouth, but you don’t exactly pick up on the words. All you recognize is the hand he holds out before you, and without thinking you take it.

Before you know it, you’re in the warmth of the flower shop and letting yourself sigh in relief. Cold limbs shiver and unravel from their previous position all curled up against your body to fight off the weather, much to Jeno’s visible worry when he doesn’t leave your side for even a second. He unwraps his scarf and is wrapping it around your exposed neck, covering what your flimsy hoodie could not. Next, he’s taking off his large gloves and you’re reminded of the first day you’d met, his hands working to push them onto your fingers with a furrowed brow. You really had underestimated how cold it was outside.

“I’ll get you some tea... there’s some in the back.” He says quietly, surprising you when he doesn’t scold you like you’d expect from any of your other friends had they found you in the same position. He shrugs off his coat and walks into the back without a word, leaving you wordlessly fiddling with his gloves on your hands and the scarf that is damn near saturated in his warm scent and taking over your senses.

In his absence, you decide it wouldn’t hurt to look around.

You walk closer to the counter you’d seen Jeno at so many times, glancing around at the things that decorated his space. Your eyes took in everything, from the large, black pruning shears to the half-wrapped bouquet of what looked like yellow roses sitting on the wooden stool where you supposed he sat when he got too tired of standing.

The flower shop was so beautiful inside, but it had a much different atmosphere on such a cloudy, cold day. There ware a few warm lamps glowing here and there, the gloomy weather outside keeping away the sunny light you had grown used to seeing the place be filled to the brim with. You could see a few potted plants sitting near the front door, looking awfully out of place. It’s only when you hear the wind outside pick up in strength that you realized what might’ve drawn Jeno outside in the first place.

As soon as you think that, Jeno is walking back out with two steaming mugs of what you recognize at first smell to be green tea. You smile when the mug reaches your hands, Jeno being careful to hand you the handle despite the heat of the ceramic on his palm. You take a tentative sip and nearly moan in delight, the warmth reaching almost every part of your body the longer you stand idle. You can tell Jeno is smirking behind the rim of his cup, making you flush, “What’s so funny?” You ask indignantly.

He pulls the mug away and keeps an innocent expression, though you can see there’s something playfully secretive there, “How do you like the tea?”

“Good. Actually better than mine, if I do say so.” You praise, taking a few more sips and humming quietly under your breath.

Jeno’s smirk turns into a full blown smile and God, if you could sue him for giving you such a beautiful smile without warning you definitely would be collecting your dues by now.

He sets his mug down and looks away from you, leaning an elbow on the counter, “I made it.”

Your eyes widen and you look down at the cup as if you can’t quite believe it. You might’ve expected someone else at work to have made it, or maybe he’d bought some and split it into two clean mugs to fool you, but instead he stands smugly before you as he basks in your awe.

You take another sip and then mutter in shock, “Jeno... this is 100% homemade?”

He nods and motions for you to follow him into the back where you see a small kitchen, and there on the old stove is a traditional, purple teapot. The smell becomes stronger as you get closer to it. “I’m not just crazy about the pretty plants. My boss taught me; she makes her own teas and showed me how to make the perfect cup every time.”

“Why do you even bother coming to the cafe, I wonder?” You ask, folding your arms over your chest and staring at the teapot.

Jeno looks at you from the side, mouth shut tight in fear he’d say something he’d regret. Instead, he just shrugs and hums something that meant neither yes or no in your mind. Internally, he can only say “because you’re there”. Externally, he turns to the front of the shop again and offers a smile, “Are you still on break?”

You glance down at your phone and nod when you see the time, watching as the boy takes the initiative to walk in front of you, “I’m always in your cafe, but I don’t think you’ve ever come to my shop,” you giggle at the idea that the La La Cafe is yours and that the flower shop is his, like you both pay the rent and take care of the land, “shall I show you around?”

“Yes, please. I feel like I’m in a Studio Ghibli film with all this pretty nature surrounding me.” You say, trailing behind him at such a length that leaves him both within arm’s reach and still at a respectable, totally not-weird following distance. You watch as he crosses his wrists behind his back and glance down at his stiff fists, wondering if he was nervous and trying hard not to show it. The thought that he was still nervous around you but was trying visibly to make you feel a little more comfortable did quite a number on your already rapidly unfolding feelings for the boy.

Thus begins a mini tour of the flower shop, your guide educating you on each and every plant he came across. Most of the flowers were unaffected by the cold so far, while others seemed to be on their way out of season. With each new flower he introduced to you, Jeno would give you the meaning of it. Sometimes you would fumble on names, and sometimes you would mix up meanings between two similar-looking flowers, but Jeno would lightly correct you with a patient smile each time. He looked rather happy to be telling you about the flowers, and you felt the same hearing about them.

You recognized a familiar flower at one point, raising your hand to single it out, “That flower! Those are calla lilies, right? The one that little girl was taking care of?” You notice the several lilies standing proudly in an ornate pot, “What do those mean?”

Jeno notices the lilies at the same time as you, a little surprised you even remembered them from the first time you met, “Ah... well, calla in Greek means beauty. So, the calla lily is a symbol of beauty... amongst other things.”

It was no secret to Jeno how fitting it was that your first meeting featured the flower, meant for you or not. He’d been captivated by you the moment he saw you, so much so that he’d suffered a moment of surprise and clumsiness. It was almost cliche how he’d started to see you whenever he cared for the lilies, and thus spurred him into something one could only define as a “crush”.

Jeno was no stranger to crushes, having had his fair share throughout his young life, but he swore he had never been this cringey about liking someone before. What had been a simple meeting had become something more, his eyes always looking for you when he could. It wasn’t a coincidence he would go out and tend to the flowers outside whenever you were on break, and yet it also wasn’t a coincidence that he would avoid the La La Cafe whenever you were on duty. Sometimes, he wondered if he was more comfortable keeping a distance because Renjun was right: he was afraid you’d turn him down.

The older boy had told him time and time again that his way of getting your attention was seriously backwards, though Jeno opted to just not listen to save his pride. Deep down, he knew it was weird how he pushed and pulled with you. Surely, it most likely didn’t strike you that odd what he was doing. In Jeno’s mind, you didn’t particularly care.

That had been somewhat confirmed that summer, when you’d promptly ignored his (very indirect) confession.

Jeno had nervously awaited the moment you’d come by and question him about the flower, about the meaning, and overall about his feelings for you. But to both his relief and utter disappointment, you’d done none of that. In fact, according to Mark, he wasn’t even sure you’d seen the gardenia. All he knew was that it was missing, and if you had taken it, you hadn’t thought much about it.

Had you, you might have never talked to him again. And he guessed that was fine. Maybe that day and that bit of confidence he’d needed to leave the flower for you in the first place went ignored for a reason.

You continue to walk with Jeno, arms folded behind your back and curious eyes scanning the place for this and that. The atmosphere was calm, radiating life and warmth despite the dark chill outside. There was something so calming about the nature around you, about Jeno next to you. You almost felt like a part of another world.

You keep walking until you see another familiar flower, a sudden urgency filling your chest when you recognize where it came from. Instinctively, you tug Jeno by the sleeve in the opposite direction he was headed, ignoring the sounds of his flustered confusion as you both stop before the flower in question. The minute Jeno realizes which one you are frantically pointing at, his throat closes up dry. Not now...

“I totally forgot to ask you about this one the day I saw it.” You pull him toward the bundled gardenias and look back at him expectantly, “You left it for me, didn’t you?”

Jeno doesn’t bother trying to lie. He nods his head slowly and frowns when you beam. If you can sense his overbearing discomfort, you surely don’t show it.

You run a delicate finger over the flower and hum, “What does it mean?”

“I-It has several meanings,” he isn’t lying to you per se, “some are purity, friendship, innocence...” He lists off all the related meanings he knows like he’s reading off a grocery list, avoiding the big one that he knows would ruin the comfortable peace you two had built within the last fifteen minutes.

“And which one of those did you mean?” You blink up at him, seemingly oblivious to his inner turmoil.

Swallowing, Jeno breaks eye contact with you to look at the flower instead, cursing himself for ever thinking he could be so bold as to... as to confess.

He could tell you now that he meant nothing by it, that it was just a beautiful flower and he wanted to brighten your slow day. He could easily say that he’d been picking flowers and leaving them for all kinds of people that whole day. He could probably even bet that if he told you it was any of the meanings he’d previously told you about, you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

But it was you, and he couldn’t lie to you. He couldn’t bring himself to do something so small in anyone else’s eyes to you, no matter how “easy” it could be.

He’s in the middle of figuring out how he’ll tell you when he spots something pink in the corner of his eye, and his train of thought gets lost altogether when he gets a rather ingenious idea.

Abandoning you by the gardenias, he instead approaches a completely different flower, his hand fluttering over the bud before turning to you and motioning you over. You follow out of curiosity, but you try to make sure you don’t drop your question about the gardenia just yet.

The flower he is looking at now looks a lot like something you’ve seen before, and when you look a little closer, the word falls off your tongue without thinking, “...rose?”

Jeno nods, “Technically. It’s a moss rosebud... and I have a challenge for you.”

You look up from the rosebud to Jeno, done admiring the moss covered leaves that keep the pink rose from blooming, “A challenge?”

He points to your pocket where your phone sits, “Write down the name of this flower and the gardenia, then go home and look up their meanings yourself. When I see you next, you can tell me what they mean.”

You wonder why he just won’t tell you here and now what they mean. He could save you the time and effort, but as you whip out your phone to follow his instruction, you find that your break is nearly up and even if he did decide to explain to you their meanings now, you would need to be back in the cafe before then.

Hissing a curse under your breath, you quickly make a note of the two flowers and give Jeno an apologetic look, “I’m sorry... my break is over. I should go. But I will look up the meanings!” You tell him, walking back out to the front to put his gloves and scarf back. Jeno follows at a much slower pace, hands deep in the pockets of his pants and eyes scanning you as you get ready to leave. Before you can, however, Jeno grasps your wrist.

“Can you promise me something?” He asks, looking from you to the outside where wind continues to blow unforgivingly. You look at him in surprise, but otherwise stay still so he can continue to speak, “When you find out the meanings of those flowers... please don’t leave me hanging. Please be honest with me.”

He releases your wrist as you stare utterly confused, instead placing a hand on your back and telling you to hurry before you were late to get back to work. You do as told in a sort of daze, the cold air immediately stinging your exposed skin when the door opens and pushing you to rush toward the cafe for warmth. You look back when you’re on the veranda, just to see if he’s still looking, and find that he has disappeared completely from your sight. A heavy breeze blows past you and forces you inside the cafe with a red nose and a list of things to distract you for the duration of your shift, courtesy of the flower shop boy.

december.

You don’t get to go back to the flower shop even after you find out what the flowers mean.

You had spent the time in your car ride home staring at your phone screen in utter awe, so much so that your mother had likened your reaction to some illness and insisted you stay home from work the following day. At first, you had seen her worry as an overreaction and told yourself you’d give Jeno an answer the next day you worked... except your mother hadn’t overreacted at all.

You guessed it was some motherly intuition she had to have noticed you were inflicted with the flu before you did, but you guessed sitting outside in the cold for as long as you had that day had done quite a number on you and no amount of homemade green tea from Jeno could have fixed that despite your wandering thoughts’ insistence it could. You were bedridden for a week and a half, a snotty and depressed mess as each day passed and your thoughts grew more and more consumed with Jeno. You had texted all three of your friends at La La to tell Jeno the problem, and while they insisted he understood why you weren’t at work for so long, you wondered if maybe he had other ideas about why you were out sick as well.

What if he thought you were strategically avoiding him? Playing sick so you wouldn’t have to say anything when the time came?

That entire week and a half starting in November bled into early December and left you somewhere on the verge of a mental breakdown. As finals were right around the corner, your focus on work dwindled and all of your attention was focused on school. You tried your best to catch up on homework you missed and studied well into the night for weeks, your eyes wanting to roll right out of your head after every exam (but they resisted, mainly because you knew you’d need to shove them right back in for the next exam and you doubted your teachers would cut you slack for that).

Your heavy heart did not disappear however, and whenever you were working, you were spending every break you could get in the midst of the influx of cold customers searching for a hideaway from the winter winds looking for Jeno. Your normal break time was exchanged for sporadic 15 to 25 minute breaks where you were either showing the new kid, Jisung, the ropes or sneaking in something to eat in the little time you had available to do so. With everything on your plate piling by the day and holiday worries to fill your head, trying to catch Jeno was a lot harder than you anticipated. He seemed to never be at work when you were there, and it was starting to get frustrating.

Thankfully, by the time school is out (three days before Christmas Eve), you have considerably lessened your workload and found enough time to stop the flower shop at the exact same time you knew Jeno would be there.

It was perfect timing too, because tonight was the night you’d be seeing Jeno for sure. Mark was throwing a small Christmas party for all of his friends and you were invited, as well as Jeno. You knew it would be painfully awkward for him if you said all you had to say at the party, so you thought it’d be better to catch him at the shop earlier that day and get everything out. If everything went according to plan, you’d tie up your little conversation with a bow and a hopeful “will you go to the party with me?” to top it all off.

However, it’s much your luck when you enter the tiny flower shop and find that instead of the beaming boy you’d grown so fond of in the last year and a half, there is a sprightly old woman behind the counter keeping up conversation with a seven year old. Your heart drops into your stomach immediately.

The old woman looks up when you enter, and you can’t help but think she’s the boss that Jeno had talked about before. Her greying hair is tied back into a neat bun and there’s an apron similar to Jeno’s hanging from her neck. Her lips, tainted in a pale pink gloss, pull into a small smile when she sees you, “Hello, dear! How may I help you?”

You swallow your disappointment down if only to smile, walking closer to the counter and glancing at the little girl perched on a stool to the side of the counter eyeing you like a hawk, “Hi... is Jeno here?”

Every time you had been able to come visit, there was some other young person here working in Jeno’s place, but this was the first time you’d ever actually seen his boss, and you felt awfully less confident speaking to her than anyone else despite the friendly expression she sported.

Her eyes widened a little and then she made a small sound, looking around before resting her hand on her chin, “He’s out today, doing deliveries. In fact, he left a little while ago. You just missed him.”

It really was your luck, wasn’t it?

Feeling extremely lousy, your shoulders visibly droop and the old woman perks up at this, “Is there anything I can help you with? Did you need Jeno for something specifically?”

Looking up at her, she seems worried for your pitiful expression. You look at her for a while, “Well,” you sigh, “I just... I don’t have his number and I’ve been needing to talk to him for weeks now, but I keep missing him.”

“Oh dear, what a shame. I can tell him you came by...? I don’t know what time he’ll get back.”

You’re about to tell her that that’d be nice, that you’ll just be on your way after (to sulk in your own despair, though you wouldn’t say that part out loud) when an idea pops into your head. Turning around, you scan the rows of flowers for a moment before you recall where you’d last seen your target, “Actually, can I buy something?”

She nods and walks out from behind the counter, “What would you like, dear?” “A rose. One single rose, please.”

Something sparkles in her eyes and she walks over to where the bundle of roses are, pulling on her gloves and plucking one out. She walks back over to the counter and begins to pluck the thorns, her eyes raising to you in curiosity, “You must be (Y/N).”

You blink, looking at her in shock that she even knew your name. Had Jeno told her...?

She laughs at your expression and starts to wrap the rose in brown paper, taking a tiny, elegantly frayed piece of string and tying the paper around the rose delicately, “Jeno tells me a lot of things, you know. I knew it was you the minute you walked in the door.”

“He talks about me?” If your cheeks weren’t already burning from the cold outside, they surely were now.

“Of course he does,” the person to speak next is the little girl, surprisingly, “sometimes he won’t even shut up about you.” She rolls her eyes, though you doubt she means it rudely. Her tightly done pigtails swing when she turns her head to the old woman who is quietly smiling to herself, paying close attention to tying the paper neatly.

The old woman then straightens up when she’s done, setting the rose on the counter and telling you the price. You fumble for your card as the new information settles in. Suddenly, you had never wanted to be a fly on the wall more than when Jeno was talking about you.

“...He doesn’t hate me, does he...? I feel so bad for getting distracted lately-” “He could never. He adores you. He’s more like a lovesick puppy than anything.” The sight of lovesick Jeno makes your heart flutter and you can’t help the small giggle that passes your lips at the vision.

The little girl speaks up again, tugging your sleeve to get your attention, “You like him too, right? Cause if you break his heart, I’ll make you regret it.” The strength behind the little girl’s words has you tensing up, watching her scrutinizing gaze follow you. You highly doubt she’s kidding.

You notice that there’s a pot near her elbow that’s perched on the counter, and realize that it’s that same calla lily you’d seen the first time you met Jeno. She had to be... “I promise, I won’t,” you tell her truthfully, turning fully to meet her gaze head on, “I... really, really like him. I won’t break his heart.”

She stares at you a little longer and then gives you the tiniest of smiles, her gaze softening instantaneously. At the same time, the old woman passes you your card back and you put it back in your wallet, taking the rose in your hands and smiling at the beautiful flower.

“I expect to see Jeno back here after the holidays, glowing from head to toe.” She says, “And tell him Annie is rooting for you both.”

You giggle again, nodding at her and remembering to do just that when you’d see him later. “Have a good day, girls.” You say to the both of them, making your way back out of the shop with an embarrassingly large smile on your face. Even in the face of the biting cold, you can’t help but feel warm inside.

Tonight, you’d show Jeno you too could speak in flowers.

You arrive to Mark’s party early only because you and the rest of the boys find out rather late that Mark Lee is worse at putting together parties than he is at giving out Christmas presents (and he’s really bad at giving out Christmas presents).

From six p.m. until nearly nine, you’ve been at Mark’s house. He’d managed a pretty good setup with the help of you, Renjun, Donghyuck, Jisung, and Renjun’s friend Chenle. You had helped string fairy lights across the room, make gingerbread cookies to die for, and make sure Donghyuck didn’t go around shaking present boxes to figure out whose gift was what. Once all of Mark’s other friends had showed up, the party was in full swing.

The only thing is, you still hadn’t seen Jeno anywhere.

Mark had insisted he’d sent the invite and gotten the affirmative from the boy that he’d be there, but not a trace of him could be found. The falling snow outside made you think the worst: had he gotten stuck in the bad weather? Maybe he had cancelled altogether after realizing you’d be there. Your piling worries did nothing to sooth your anxiety, despite your attempts to calm them down with copious amounts of hot cocoa and sugar.

Your rose sat in the kitchen on top of the fridge, untouched and safely tucked away from the bustle of the bustling party-goers who were determined to touch nearly everything in sight. Mark had already had to have a talk with a few people who almost knocked over his grandmother’s vintage vase, and you had quickly made your way over to back him up in case anyone thought to get snarky. Thankfully however, tonight was going as smoothly as it could.

The later it got and the closer to the end of the party it became, the more on edge you got. If Jeno really hadn’t showed, you’d have to wait even longer to see him, and you really wanted to confess to him tonight.

It seemed Jisung was privy to your dwindling enthusiasm as the night dragged on, and while the others were enthralled in Christmas karaoke, you were sat on a chair a little closer to the kitchen door, swirling your eggnog back and forth in your red solo cup. You felt something plop into the seat next to you, and when you looked up, the youngest of your friend gang was smiling up at you, “Not in the mood to smoke Renjun and Chenle with a rendition of ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’?”

You snicker softly, though the amusement doesn’t last long. Jisung notices, scooting a little closer with a frown, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Jeno.” You say softly, not bothering to beat around the bush. The youngest had only been working there for a little while, but even he understood the weight of your crush enough to know that this was serious. “You don’t think he decided not to come because of me, do you?”

Jisung twists his mouth in a grimace, “I don’t think Jeno is that petty. And it’s not like he doesn’t know how hard you’ve tried to get in touch with him.” “Not hard enough, Jisung. It could easily look like I’m trying to be passive and that’s exactly what he asked me not to do.”

The more you talk, the further you wallow in your own upset. You don’t know why you’re even still here, moping in the corner and making the atmosphere darken by the second. Maybe you’re just too stubborn to accept he’s not coming to save your pride? Maybe you should just go home soon. People were already beginning to leave anyway, curfews and the like ensuring they’d get home on time or they would be in trouble. With the way the snowy weather was acting, it would take them quite a while to get back in the first place.

Jisung rests a hand on your shoulder and rubs, trying his best to comfort you as well as he can. Since Jisung wasn’t close with Jeno yet, he couldn’t really speak for him in his absence despite wanting to so badly. The younger boy had taken to you like an older sibling, and it made him upset to see you this way.

Just as he was about to say something to comfort you, you heard a chorus of loud, excited voice from the entrance. Raising your head slowly, you wonder if maybe it’s just one of Mark’s friends who showed up late.

And it is, but you know this friend.

Jeno is wrapped up in the same scarf and coat he’d had the day he showed you the shop and “confessed�� to you, looking pink cheeked but happy regardless. He was surrounded by Donghyuck and Mark immediately, the both pair of them brushing snow off his shoulders and cracking jokes about his flustered appearance no doubt. You watched in quiet awe as his eyes turned into half-moons as he laughed, the sound making its way over to you even over the sound of Chenle blaring unnecessary high notes to “Last Christmas” over the karaoke speaker.

Without thinking, you stand, and then turn sharply so Jeno won’t see your face. Instead, you make eye contact with Jisung and hurriedly ask, “How do I look?”

Jisung looks you and up and down and laughs, “Like a lovesick puppy.” At your frown, he reaches a hand up and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a thumbs up, “Jeno’s jaw is gonna hit the floor.”

You give the younger boy a big smile and a quick kiss on the cheek, thanking him for comforting you before sprinting into the kitchen and retrieving your rose. You have to use your tiptoes to even brush the paper, your tongue parting your lips and curling up unconsciously. You probably look silly as you focus on trying to get your rose, cursing asking Mark to put it up there for you in the first place. He’d set it so far back that your fingertips weren’t even touching it.

Your struggle lasted for barely a minute before you felt the paper touch the palm of your hand, and your little shout of victory was short-lived when you realized you hadn’t reached it on your own.

A warm chest pressed up against your back and an extended arm you hadn’t even noticed in your concentration had appeared beside your own, a familiar hand reaching for the flower and pushing it into your awaiting hand. You turn your head over your shoulder to find the person you’d be looking for all night. He looks bashful, avoiding your eyes as he steps back once he’s sure you’ve got what you were aiming for in your hands.

You quickly pull the flower down and hide it behind your back so he can’t see what it is behind the wall of paper it’s wrapped in, though you catch his eyes trying to see what it is regardless. “You’re here,” you say, embarrassingly out of breath, “I thought... uh...” “There was lots of snow. That’s... that’s why.” He has rid himself of his winter clothes and now stands several feet away from you in just an ugly Christmas sweater and some ripped black jeans that have you wanting to hide behind the rose in a puddle of mush.

“And you still came.” You breathe out, feeling a surge of admiration fill your chest. Could it possibly be because of...?

He says and does nothing to confirm it except for a small nod of his head, “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

The party? Or your answer?

“I’m really sorry,” you start, “between finals and holiday preparations, I kept trying to catch you at the wrong times. I’ve had what I wanted to say ready for a while but it was like every time I looked for you, you weren’t there. Like today.” You say softly, hand tightening around the stem of the rose in nervousness.

Jeno makes a noise, “I thought I recognized that wrapping paper from somewhere.”

You tug the rose further behind your back, cursing at yourself to keep going. “Right, well, you asked me for my answer. I’ll be honest, when I first found out the meanings of those flowers, I was in a state of shock... but I swear it was because I couldn’t believe you actually liked me back! Because... you may feel like the one to catch feelings first, but to be honest, I’ve been admiring you since last summer when I first started working at La La.”

Jeno’s eyebrows raise in revelation, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“Anyway, Donghyuck, Mark, and Renjun knew that I liked you, but thankfully they never told. Today, I went to the shop to catch you because I finally had time and usually you’re there at that time but you were out doing deliveries, so I ended up meeting Annie... and bought this.” You pull the flower in front of you, avoiding his eyes to get your next words out, “she told me to tell you she’s rooting for us. No pressure or anything by the way. So, uh... will you go out with me?“

You chance a glance at Jeno, whose eyes are focused on the single rose. The longer he takes to say anything, the more nervous you get. You’re positive that you’re shaking now, but you still hold the rose and hope for the best.

You feel the rose being pried from your hands, and when you meet gazes with Jeno again, he has the nerve to be smirking at you, “Well, duh.”

You blink, “Wait, huh?” “I don’t know why you’re so nervous. I did confess first, you know. Of course I want to go out with you.”

He sets the rose down and looks at you fondly, pulling you with him toward the kitchen door, “Smart choice of flower, by the way.”

You snort as you lean into his side, basking in the warmth and feeling your shoulders slacken with relief. There he went again, bouncing between shy and confident and making you that much more smitten, “Thanks! It’s kinda the only one I know the true meaning of.”

Jeno is about to pull you into the living room when Donghyuck slides in front of you both, a knowing (and by association, terrifying) smile on his face. Jeno is, on the verge of asking what the problem is, interrupted when Donghyuck extends a finger and points toward the door frame where a sprig of mistletoe hangs above your heads dauntingly by a single strip of scotch tape.

Jeno’s cheeks flame red the second he recognizes it, eyes flashing from it to you, a look of pure sheepishness on his face. He looks like he’s malfunctioning or something, the poor boy can’t seem to form words. In his stead, you step forward a bit and give Donghyuck a look, “Donghyuck, it’s a little early for us to do that don’t you think?”

To your shock, Donghyuck laughs, “Who said anything about you two?”

You watch, somewhere between amusement and an utter loss for words as Donghyuck grabs Jeno by the sweater and down a little so he can plant a distressingly loud kiss on Jeno’s cheek, watching the eldest boy squirm in mortification.

When Donghyuck pulls away, he does the exact same thing to you, though you were fairly prepared for it after seeing the display on Jeno. You decide not to fight him like you and the boys usually would, letting him show his affection unhindered for one night only. He looks pretty pleased when you just give him a smile and pat his cheek, “Thanks for that, Hyuckie.” “No, thank you. I’ve been trying to get the others under the mistletoe all night. I think they’re on to me.”

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