*( the story we used to know— retro para
she deems it official: min haru has managed his way into her heart, thawing no longer necessary as he lights a warmth in her the idol wants nothing more than to BASK in. his laughter rings like her favorite song, and hea jung can only mirror the way his lips curl up in a smile, the upturn of her mouth only for him to see. “charmed.” echoes the singer, her own features growing unmistakably GENTLE; you have a way with words, is what she means to comment, but from the way her eyes already light up with dazzling amusement hea jung assumes he can perhaps already tell. his eyes crinkle and they radiate warmth, the chuckle that eclipses his words causing splashes of color that feel warm against her cheekbones; she finds that for someone fluent in exactitude and precision haru’s irises are a place she wouldn’t mind being lost in for as long as she might possibly STAY. there’s a flash of white, lips pulling apart to reveal her teeth in a coy yet GENUINE grin. “i’d want nowhere else to be more.” hea jung responds in kind, a slow rise and fall of her shoulders to accompany the litheness of her tone.
when the lights come on she watches new shadows dance across haru’s skin, refined and elegant –– not too different, she thinks, from the way he COMPOSES himself. it’s an admirable quality, one she can’t say everyone possesses; seeing it in the other is like a BREATH of fresh air, rejuvenating and refreshing and restoring a HOPE hea jung thought had long since died away. she takes graceful strides by his side, basking in the comfort the quiet brings; although more often than not silence proves frigid for an ice queen like herself, the silence which follows the pair seems to OVERFLOW with familiarity, even if they had only had their first meal together –– never can hea jung remember feeling more AT EASE, stepping beside the other so naturally – and so fondly, as well. her eyes travel across the entirety of his home, internally awed by how well-kept it appears; while the heaven dorm isn’t necessarily CLUTTERED, effort is clearly seen in the way haru’s home keeps maintained. “it appears you’ve shown me more reason to be fond of you.” she muses aloud, voice catching softer than it had prior; when she turns to offer him a soft smile, her eyes crackle with nothing short of both MIRTH and ADORATION.
they step into the garden and suddenly woo hea jung is park myung-ok, six years of age, playing in a garden of her own. hers is a world of COLOR, then, two years before all light is snatched away from her; rainbows line up every row, and young myung-ok was delighted, ENTRANCED by the way even the ground could shine like the sky above. standing in haru’s garden now shows, apparently, no difference; although way past in her years, a soft gasp leaves her lips in such unconcealed DELIGHT, hea jung surrounded by the beauty only nature has to offer; “enchanting.” she comments, her eyes alight with a youthful sparkle reignited – the man who accompanies her capable of bringing the dead back to life, and living by his side would be something of a dream realized. “this is beautiful.” hea jung speaks, devoid of breath; her smile GLOWS, perhaps even brighter than the moon that hangs above.
the pink of the roses says nothing in comparison to the color that paints stripes across her features; for a moment she remains in silence, gaze glued only to the flowers in full bloom –– when she turns her head towards the other to note that he’s already glancing at her, the pink only DEEPENS. “they are all breathtaking.” hea jung slows her words this time around –– making sure each syllable is punctuated with as much emphasis as the other. her smile coats her features in an everlasting LIGHT, the corners of her eyes crinkling as haru’s did not too early on. “are these your favorites––?” she tilts her head at him in curiosity, mirth lingering across her expression in a way they never HAD in the presence of anyone else; truly, haru was something new and bright and BEAUTIFUL entirely –– it only seemed logical for the idol to WISH to become a part of that, as well.
as the night deepens and they’re left only with the presence of warmth and nature and a rather astonishing FAMILIARITY, haru realizes how much he’s still yet to learn of the world around him. this one night---- the first of what he truly DESIRES to be plenty---- is the flash of bright light he wasn’t aware he needed to acknowledge the vast enigmas still left to discover. hea jung is a mystery uncovered and little by little, he hopes to learn more of her. he hopes to learn her. there are so many things about people that they hide behind their skin, brought to the surface only at proper prodding and prompting. yet it’s peculiar, he finds, that hea jung need not prod or prompt too much for him to wish to show her what’s hidden beneath his skin. a smile is enough for him to offer her his heart’s desires; a chuckle is enough for him to offer her his innermost thoughts. so quickly, so easily does hea jung bring out what haru adamantly hides.
pink is suddenly what becomes of the night’s theme. the shades range from carnation to rose; they color both his flowers and hea jung’s skin. without realizing, even his skin is adorned with a faint color of petal and it’s accompanied by warmth and pure mirth. the way she looks at his creations, his masterpieces, makes him feel accomplished. and he finds himself smiling so faintly to himself, proud to have been able to bring such a reaction to another’s (specifically, hea jung’s) face just by brandishing the labor and hard work he had put into his garden. he’s so ENCHANTED by her. everything she does is an art he’s so desperate to capture and store into his memory. each movement is an image, a video he wants to play over and over again before he falls into slumber.
❛ i’m incredibly happy to see you react in such a way to my work, ❜ it’s funny, he thinks, that he’s much prouder of his garden work (and his cooking) than his actual occupation. although if given deeper thought, it’s only NATURAL for him to hold a certain amount of disdain for his job. while he does truly love acting, the MEANS in which he had achieved his career is not something he’d ever include in his thank you speeches for the awards he has received. all the wrath he feels, the DISGUST he holds for himself, is poured into numerous hobbies that could distract him, even just for the moment, from his pain and imminent return to the old man’s bed. his gaze moves to the flowers once again and he shrugs. ❛ favorites... no, actually. i suppose practicality is still my favored trait and so my favorites would be any of the vegetables i’ve grown. ❜
there’s another pause. for a quiet moment, haru merely thinks. then he bends his knees and plucks another flower from the bed. a gardenia. in the world of flowers, they mean purity and sweetness; they mean a secret love; they mean “you are lovely.” he places the flower gently on her palm, folding her fingers above it before slipping his hands into his pockets. ❛ you’re lovely. ❜ he voices out, the pink dusting over his cheekbones unmatched. his eyes are locked onto hers, filled with so much fondness and adoration that he wishes--- oh god, he wishes---- that the night didn’t have to end. he had never felt so happy in the presence of another, never felt his heart beat so loudly in his chest ever before. hea jung has introduced him to a new world, a world where there is a possibility of pure joy. and he KNOWS he wants hea jung in this world right by his side.
