Hiii! I'm Tana! ♡
Adult [20s]. Multistan.
I don't bite - drop an ask.
Let's be Moots on Main!
Asks: Open!
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Masterlist. Rules. Requests. Prompts.
Fuck AI and all of its users ♡
GIFs. Anime. XPOP. Sinlord Collabs.
There's a constant drip keeping you awake and stressing you out. You don't want to wake up Taeyong but it's nigh impossible to ignore.
Warnings;;
None! Just domestic fluff! Established relationship. A little anxiety/stress on Reader's part but Taeyongie is there to comfort <3 also my attempt at freestyle poetry at the end might need a warning lmfao
Prompt;;
'Drip Drop' from my 2025 July Prompts!
Notes;;
Happy Birthday to our lovely Taeyongie!
This one goes out to my worrywart of a sister. Stop stressing, my dude.
Bruhh, I was on my melodramatic hopeless romantic shhh when I wrote this one.
Main Masterlist || NCT Masterlist || Fluff Masterlist
There’s a leak in the walls, or the apartment above, or maybe it’s the kitchen sink. It’s hard to tell. You shouldn’t get up to check. You really shouldn’t. Who in their right mind leaves the perfectly comfy and warm embrace of their comforter in search of a phantom drip? There’s nothing you can do about it, anyway. You’re not a plumber. This is a problem for Maintenance.
But if it is the sink faucet and you can put yourself out of this misery, shouldn’t you? It’s not like you can sleep with this incessant drip drip thundering throughout the entire apartment. It’s practically shaking the walls of your mind, a miniature earthquake behind the lids of your eyes. Checking the sink will give you something to do, a way to pass a whole minute before you’re plunged back into the sleepless abyss.
You move to get up but you’re stopped when an arm wraps around your waist, grounding you. Strong. Protective. It can be none other than Taeyong. He’s lying beside you, bundled up in the bedding, asleep – at least you thought he was. Did you wake him, or is the drip torturing you both?
“What’s wrong?” he mumbles, still half-asleep.
“You don’t hear that?” You don’t bother with an inside voice. “The dripping. It won’t stop. Do you think there’s a leak?”
A knot twists in your gut at the thought alone. Bills. More and more bills. Always a new bill or a hidden fee, not to mention the stacked charges, and this apartment complex has a knack for finding sly ways to pin damages on you, make it your problem, drain your bank account for their incompetence. And now you’ll be paying for a hotel room while Maintenance takes their sweet time repairing the issue.
It’s stressful.
You’re stressed!
What if the place is waterlogged? What if the whole structure needs work? You could be in that hotel for months!
And then there’s the possibility of mold. That could make you both sick! That could kill someone! That could–
“There’s no leak,” he says and despite the tiredness in his voice, he sounds so sure.
It’s reassuring… but the worries linger all the same.
“They could be hurt.”
He pulls you closer, tighter, secures you against his chest. “Who?”
“The upstairs neighbours. They could have died in the bathtub so it’s going ‘drip drip drip’.”
“Hmm.” Taeyong nestles closer still, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“They’re morning shower people.”
“So? People can change.”
“Not overnight.”
“Is it really not bothering you?”
Your question hangs in the air for a moment before he shimmies his leg between both of yours and he slides his other arm underneath your side. With both of his arms wrapped around you, he pulls you into a deep embrace, practically squeezing your breath away. After a long moment he loosens his hold, but only enough for you to breathe without strain.
“I didn’t notice it until you mentioned it.”
“How? It’s driving me insane!” you huff, head sinking into the pillow as you welcome the sheer exhaustion threatening to wipe you out.
“I focus on something else.”
Holding back a quick retort and the scoff resting on the tip of your tongue, you try your damnedest to listen to anything else. There’s nothing as consistent as the drip. A dog barks in the distance, a cat yowls. The wind picks up into a howl only to lose her nerve and fall silent. Some kind of engine revs to life for a solid beat before it, too, putters and fades.
“There isn’t anything else,” you whine.
He chuckles into your hair. “Really? It’s my favourite soundtrack. You don’t hear it? It plays every night.”
“Stop teasing.” You yawn. At this rate you’ll black out but at least you’ll finally be asleep. “Just tell me – I’m losing my mind over here.”
Your eyes droop until they close and you’re on the edge of passing out when your entire world shakes with the thick plop of water hitting water. Anxiety wells in your gut. A puddle. If it’s the upstairs neighbour then that puddle will turn into a bubble and that bubble will burst into a torrential downpour all over your bathroom or kitchen or, Lord forbid, your bedroom! Somehow, someway, the water will roll above your head then pop! Your whole life you’ve built here with Taeyong, the memories and the mementos, the big step of moving in together, the future it laid out… gone. Submerged in an early, watery grave.
“Here,” he says as he places his hand over your heart. “Feel this.” You breathe deep. His hand warms your skin as your chest rises. You exhale and he follows, both with his hand and his own soft breathing. With your bodies pressed so close you can feel every inhalation. You fall into sync with him, exhaling as he does. “Now listen. Do you hear it?”
Try as you might, you can’t hear anything except…
His gentle breathing, serene and almost inaudible, a melody whispered mere inches from your ear.
And his heartbeat, slow and steady as it reverberates from his body to yours.
The song of intimate vulnerability shared between lovers.
“I hear it,” you murmur, afraid to speak too loud, to break the trance and fall victim to wandering thoughts.
“And you feel it?” he asks, his voice deep with oncoming sleep.
“I do.” But you’re unsure if you’re even speaking out loud anymore, losing yourself to the rhythmic drum of his heartbeat, to the evening of his breath as he falls into a peaceful slumber. One you’re soon to follow, your body relaxing as the worries cease and the thoughts slow to a trickle.
I feel it.
in the loneliest hours,
when consciousness slips endlessly,
he reaches for you,
his breath your guide.
your love for me.
in the loneliest hours,
when sleep tears lovers apart,
he holds onto you,
his love a lighthouse,
his heart your anchor.
-fin-
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College is a time for studying and planning for your future… so why must Jay insist on winning your heart? And why are you considering letting him?
Warnings;;
None! <3
Oh, I guess Reader is a bit of a tsundere
Notes;;
Based off the prompt ‘Candy Hearts’ from my Valentine’s Day prompt list~
Main Masterlist || ENHYPEN Masterlist || Valentine’s Masterlist
He’s a dark fleck in contrast to the dull grey building he’s loitering against. Sunlight lingers on his black jacket, absorbing into the leather while leaving a bright glow that catches the eyes of passersby. It’s hard to see him in clear detail from your elevated angle but his jeans appear ripped and his shoes look designer. Or at least they’re a very interesting shade of red - a burgundy that morphs into the blaring red of a stop sign. They’re eye-catching. Sort of like Jay himself.
Calling it a day, you toss your lab paperwork into your bag and turn off the computer. There’s no point sticking around when you can’t focus. Knowing Jay is waiting outside to ambush you the second you leave the library dampens your ability to pay attention. Not because he’s anything special (he’s just a guy, albeit a very attractive one) but because you’d rather just get the interaction over and done with.
okay, so after another 4(0,000) years, I've actually completed this request ahaahaaaa 😅 I kinda wrote it up in a fever state (because mafia au, I couldn't help myself) and got it done in 2 days/7.5hrs. Gonna type and edit it soon!
Tentative Post Date: August 8th! (for his birthday 🥳)
Hi author-nim! Recently came back to tumblr and discovered your Kyungsoo fics; thank you for writing content of our king <33 Are you taking requests right now? If so, may I request a suggestive/mild smut of being reunited with Kyungsoo after he finishes his tour or something where there's mutual pining/missing each other?
Hello! 🫶
Welcome back to Tumblr! I also recently came back :)
Kyungsoo is very fun to write for - he has such a great range of genres that suit his personality and persona.
I don't really accept requests anymore but I also don't not accept requests. It's really more of a 'I accept them all but it might take years for them to be finished... 😅'.
But I finished this one a few days ago! Just have to type and edit it, and then have my beta reader look over it. Should be posted... soon? Maybe? Probably.
Tentative Post Date: Soon!
Thanks for the request and I will tag you when it's posted so you don't have to sit around and wait for it ☺️
I'm writing again, y'all ♡ I'll be posting in... August? Maybe. Definitely September! Got a ton to edit (over 35k in one-shots from my last count and I haven't typed them all yet 😅) from before this latest hiatus, as well. But I'm only taking two classes this summer so I've got time to burn and I plan on getting a lot written for October!
I saw the Kyungsoo request in my inbox and I'll post that for sure soon! It's not too long so it shouldn't take much to finish up and edit. It was a little difficult for me to get into the flow of that one so hopefully it's good 🤞
I can't even tag everything I have ready to go because there's just so much lmfao I should've posted it for Kinktober last year but 😭 even if I don't write anything else this summer, I WILL be posting my backlog.
Sending a random womp womp anon to a dead account isn't going to advance your cause. If anything you're making me want to come back and write again lmfao
Well... I still have lots to post come October (and late September!) but after the last five or so days of pain and surgery, I won't have as much as I was hoping :( I'll still be posting daily but maybe not twice daily now, or even a long fic twice a week aghh. At least physically I'll be a bit better 😭 hopefully this helps my back pain too because !! I'll be able to write more if it does ♡
I'm working hard over here, I promise! Everyday! I'm writing my little heart out so I can have something to post daily throughout October! I'm hustling! My fingies and my wrist and my hand - it's all practically broken from how hard I'm writing! Sometimes 2k words a day! Which is a lot for me considering I was writing 0 words per day just a few weeks ago!
Ahem.
So far I've written "shorts" (ranging for .3k to 2k+) for...
Bang Chan, Rosé, Nicholas, YangYang, Seulgi, Hokuto, Eunwoo, Jeonghan, Hunter, Yujun, Yunjin, Jimin, Minghao, Taeyong, Lay, Jake, and Sukuna, though he'll be posted on @animetrashlord-007, and I'm working on a Jisoo fic right now~
And that's just the start!! I hope you and at least a few other people like them! There's a whole range of fluff, angst, supernatural and spooky for Halloween, sexy and smutty for Kinktober - oh, the variety! It's too much! Bahahaha~
And what are you working on lately, huh, Sinpie?? Hmm?? Huh!!
Thanks for stopping by, pretty lady~ looking forward to your Summer Camp with SVT!! Don't forget to whip up some more LDW fics! And if you need any ideas, I have plenty of priest/church/religious AUs floating around my head!! ♡
Hihihi! I love your Astro content. When are you going to write something for Eunwoo? 🥺
Shut up, how did you know?! I do have something planned for Eunwoo! I think I have some requests, too. But I'm going to be doing one of my typical Astro hurt/comfort fics for him soon ♡ It's meant to be a short drabble but we'll see, haha.
Also thank you!! I'm so glad you like them 🥺🫶💕 I love Astro sm. I miss writing for them but it's been hard 👉👈
Your world is turned upside when you wake up inside a small room. More akin to a prison than a bedroom, every passing moment evokes greater terror as the room shakes in a rhythmic sway. Things only go from bad to worse when a foreboding stranger lets himself in.
Warnings;;
Dark content, kidnapping and isolation, threats of violence / the implication, bodily fluids (blood, tears and vomit). Delusional JK. Reader incurs injuries including head trauma.
You wake with a jolt, or rather with a lurch. Heavy lids fight to stay open as you flail free of your nightmare. There’s a pounding within your skull that threatens to split you in two. Reaching for anything solid, your nails hover over the dreary grey wall. Before you have a chance to deny your reality, the room once again rocks and dips.
Without any type of steady grip you’re a victim of physics. Headfirst you collide with the wall. Your vision darkens. There’s no sound except the pain, tangible and screaming. It blossoms outward from your fingertips. Fingertips smashed between your chest and the wall, fingertips warm with blood.
Fighting to remain conscious, you avoid assessing the damage. Your stomach is already resting within your throat, the airway threatening to constrict. Breathing deep, your head lolls against the wall. Ice-cold metal bites your skin; a silent reminder of the box you’re trapped within.
There’s an unnatural chill in the air, alongside the stench of iron and salt. A small gust whips into the room when the door swings open. Shivering, you cower into a ball, using your own body as a windbreaker. When the rush subsides you allow yourself to glance over your shoulder at the intruder.
In front of the door stands a man of average stature. Atop his head is a navy blue bucket hat. Water drips from its edges. While his face is pleasant, his eyes burn dark like a wildfire. The longer you stare at him, the wider his smile grows. It’s unnerving; there isn’t a hint of his motivations nor intentions, just blind adoration.
“Goooood morning, sunshine!” he sings, swaying in tandem with the room. “We’ve hit a rough patch but it’ll pass soon. Are you hungry?”
“Who… who are you?”
His expression is quizzical for a brief moment before it morphs back into a mischievous grin. “Are we roleplaying?”
When he steps into the room his boots clang against the steel floor.
Slow. Thud. Heavy. Thud. Deliberate. Thud.
Each step reverberates against the walls before settling within your chest.
“I’ll play,” he chimes, the song melodic compared to the harsh crack of his neck. “I’ll be the nice captain who saved a sorry wretch like you. How does that sound?”
He looms over you and you slink closer to the wall. Ice claws at your back, numbing your skin. There’s no more than a foot of distance between the bed frame and his legs. Water slides down his pants, leaving a glimmering trail on the grey surface. His coat is made of the same thin material. Discomfort rumbles within your gut.
“Where am I?” you whisper, lifting your gaze to meet him.
“Is that any way to talk to your captain, wench?” he teases, placing a gloved hand on the wall beside you. He carries the scent of the ocean with him. It fills your nose before seeping down your throat. “I’m starting to think you want to be punished. Is that it?”
It takes great effort to bite back obscenities and instead say, “No, sir.”
“Oh…” He falls to his knees before you. Reverence brightens his doe eyes. Moving his hand from the wall to your face, he caresses your cheek. You flinch away from his cold touch. “I might like that a little too much.”
It’s while he’s chuckling to himself, a flush heating his cheeks, that you snap. Your hand collides with his, batting him away. Without pausing to process the indignant shock creeping across his features, you raise your legs and kick him square in the chest. He tumbles onto his haunches. A sharp exhale breaks past his lips and he winces. Leaping off the bed, you curl your toes and slam the arch of your foot against the side of his body. Soft flesh contorts around your attack.
You don’t look back at him as he yells your name. Throwing yourself toward freedom, you yank on your prison’s door. Precious seconds are wasted pulling the heavy door open wide enough for you to slip through. Even so, there’s no clear evidence of his pursuit. No footsteps, no panting, no shouting – the room fades into silence the moment you’re free of it.
The moment your eyes catch the gleam of light reflecting off a staircase, you bolt toward it. Rolling down the stairs, cold, dry, salty air licks your skin free of all moisture. Wind howls above you. Somewhere in the distance comes the splash of water lapping against steel.
Climbing two steps at a time, the metal underfoot groans and shakes. What should take mere seconds feels like an eternity. Each clatter and bang ignites terror within you. Even outside the room your world shakes and rolls, and the worst possible scenario invades your thoughts. When you breach the surface, exploding forth from the shadowy depths of the lower deck, your nightmare becomes reality.
Dark clouds gather over pitch-black water. Tumultuous waves crash against the ship’s hull. No matter which direction you look, you’re greeted with more ocean. Vomit rises into your throat, searing your esophagus until you let it loose onto the grated steel floor. The sight of it sloshing around your feet, viscous and steaming, makes you hurl once more.
“Are you unwell?”
You spin to face him. That stupid doe-eyed expression is back on his face. Concern drips from his words as he repeats himself. It’s sickening, vile even. His hand reaches for you and you bare your teeth at him. He’s unhindered as he walks, indifferent to the constant, maddening pulse of the ocean.
“You’ve been acting out quite a bit since we started our vacation, honey.”
There’s a flash of lightning in the distance. As if to really drive home how absolutely fucked you are, it illuminates the sky and sea. There’s no land in sight, no birds in view.
Just miles upon miles of nothing.
“Maybe you should lie down.”
He’s closing the distance, creeping nearer and nearer. On wobbly legs you take a step back. He makes up the loss and gains new ground in a single stride. The deck is slick beneath your hesitant feet. You stumble and slip. Collapsing onto the ship’s railing, a deep-set chill settles into your bones. Before either of you have a chance to react, another wave rocks the boat. The force pushes you into the stranger’s awaiting arms.
“Let go of me!”
“Baby, I’m wor–”
“I’m not your baby,” you spit, slamming a clenched fist against his broad chest. “Let me go!”
Round eyes narrow. All traces of his jovial nature wash away. Rage bubbles to the surface in its stead. Shadows deepen in the dips and hollows of his face. A contorted smirk taints his youthful charm. He doesn’t allow you any room to breathe as he invades your space. When you’re chest to chest, he pushes you further, herding you to the edge. Greeted again by the icy railing, your back curves around the metal bar. The stranger leans down. His weight crushes you, pressing you down onto the railing without remorse.
“You want to go?” His voice is a cold whisper against your ear. A shiver tears down your spine. Paralyzed, your body refuses to fight. “Then go.”
His grip is iron-tight as it wraps around your knee. Mumbled protests depart your lips but they’re in vain – he’s uplifting your centre of gravity, sending you over the edge. Falling over the railing, the scream you produce almost sounds disconnected from your body, as if it were someone else’s fate to drown.
Your head bounces against the hull. Raw and scratched, your vocal cords give out and you trail off into a sob. Tears mix with seawater and blood. Yet when you look down, watching the scarlet drops disappear into the murky depths, you remain several feet above the ocean. It reaches for you, hungry waves lunging for you, but you’re suspended over it, dangling precariously like a worm on a hook.
“Do you still want me to let you go, honey?”
He loosens his hold to prove he’s ready to drop you should you ask. As if you ever would. But he’s waiting for a response, forcing you to play along with his allusion to free will.
“N-no.”
“Good.”
Using his other hand as support around your back, he gives your leg a sharp tug. Pain shoots outward from your hip – just another part of you that’s going to bruise and ache tomorrow. Once you’re slumped against the inner railing, he pats your head.
“Can you walk?” he asks, his tone saccharine. His teeth are on display as he smiles, giving you an encouraging nod when you stand. All the malice is gone and his faux innocence is back. “Let’s get you back to bed. You need to rest.”
“I want to go home,” you cry, nails digging into your biceps as you hold yourself.
“You’ve been talking nonsense this whole time,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to draw you close. The back of his hand is warm against your forehead. He tuts before pressing a kiss against your temple. “I think you’re coming down with something.”
“I’m not s–”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it, baby. I’ll take care of you.”
He cradles your head, oblivious to the wounds you’ve incurred, and peppers kisses across your face. Doing a one-eighty sweep you glance out at the sea. Vast and endless, water stretches beyond the horizon. You’re stranded on this boat with a madman. Pressing a final chaste kiss against your tightened lips, he guides you toward the lower deck.
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Oops, my screenshot is big, haha! But thank you so much!! I really appreciate your reblog and I'm super stoked that you liked the fic 🥺🫶💕 also I love seeing your name in my notifs - thanks for reading and liking my works!!
Spring is in the air and love is blooming between you and your coworker.
In Depth Summary;;
“Weeds are simply plants that grow in places where humans do not want them to grow.”
You’re not in love with your fellow receptionist. Really, you’re not! The feelings you have for Jungwon are purely platonic. You respect him. You admire him. You adore him. Totally normal feelings to have for a coworker!
But if perhaps there was an opportunity to spend more time together and to get to know one another better, you wouldn’t say no.
And if feelings were to grow during such an outing and you both decided it’s time to explore a future in which you’re hopelessly in love with one another, well, you’re just an adventurous person!
Seriously! You’re not head-over-heels madly in love with Jungwon! You’re just friends!
. . . unless?
“Many people consider sunchokes a weed, but I don’t. The flower is pretty; it reminds me of little sunflowers, sunflowers that come back year after year.”
Warnings;;
None, really. I'll use this as an additional information dump:
Non-Idol AU (Hotel Staff AU), Coworkers to Friends to Lovers
Humorous (I think it’s funny)
It’s meant to be pure fluffy but it’s a little angsty too?? I’m not sure why or even how that happened. But not like super sad!! Just a part with a sad undertone. It’s fluffy and cute, istg, it’s so cute.
Mentions of a slight height difference (to me 6’ is tall, anything less is only kind of tall, and anything more is extremely tall so his 5’9 is just ‘slight’)
Overuse of italics (you can take them from my cold, dead hands!) and long sentences(, my beloved).
It’s a story about spring - did you really think I wouldn’t hit you with flowery prose?
And don’t think just because it’s a story about flowers that I won’t find a way to also make it about space.
Prompt;;
'Flower Picking' from my 2022 Valentine's Day Prompts!
Notes;;
Not me typo’ing Jungwon as Kingwon. Twice.
It’s also the first fic I wrote since I came back from my hiatus, and the first of 2025! (Not the first new fic I posted, though. I wrote Hold Your Breath while writing this one and it got posted earlier too. Stole all the glory, smh.)
Author's Guarantee;;
Absolutely no AI was used in the making of this work. I have never and will never use any form of AI (directly or indirectly) to create content.
Placing the final vase with your latest haul of illegally acquired flowers on your desk, a sense of pride blossoms in your chest. Despite the beauty of the Dawn’s Light Hotel and its world-renowned gardens and meadows, many five star reviews begin with warm regards for the dual reception desks in its modest lobby. The two desks serve as the first glimpse of the hotel’s interior, and you’ve endeavoured to make it a mighty fine one. No matter the season, no matter the weather, the most vibrant bouquets are the first greeting all guests receive.
Followed, of course, by your brightest smile.
“Good morning, madam,” your voice is practised and even, “will you be staying with us today?”
An elderly woman, hair as white as a snowdrop, returns your smile. “Oh my,” she practically giggles as she looks between your desk and the one across the foyer. “It might not be as large or fancy as the Signiel Seoul, but it has more charm, doesn’t it?”
Snapping your attention away from Jungwon’s desk you swallow your disappointment and muster another million-dollar smile. “It sure does! One morning the owner awoke to see the entire estate basked in a golden glow, the air shimmering and the flowers dancing in bloom. He knew then and there that this place was magical.”
“I don’t doubt that,” the woman says with a content chuckle. Her enthusiastic excitement is hard to ignore and you soon find yourself laughing in tandem.
The check-in process is second nature after all these years. Despite how easy it would be to fall into the motions, to let a robotic subconscious guide you through the day, this job is one you’ve come to cherish every moment of. As guests come to your desk to both check in and out, as tourists ask about the grounds, as your coworkers stop by for a quick break after each major rush, your demeanour never falters – genuine joy that takes root within the lobby and blooms in the hearts of all those you come in contact with.
Happiness is, after all, contagious.
Jungwon reminds you of this as you glance at him during a slow period, truly cementing the belief. He is the reason your worldview changed. When you first started this position you had been nervous, body hunching in on itself under the sheer pressure of self-inflicted stress. He took one look at you and saw a lifetime of worries. From that moment henceforth he took it upon himself to care for you.
“You need to slow down every now and then, okay?” he said most often during peak hours.
“Have you walked through the gardens today?” he asked whenever you made a mistake you wouldn’t stop beating yourself up over.
“Everyone has bad days,” he told you more than once during your first few months, back when you let the guests under your skin and allowed your temper to control your tongue. “If every action we take and every word we say will come back around in some kind of karmic retribution system, wouldn’t it be better to spread kindness? If we release goodness into the world on a daily basis, then there’ll be more of it available when we stumble upon an inevitable bad day. At least that’s what I think.” He smiled so brilliantly as he watched over the guests coming and going, entering this paradise ever so briefly before returning to the hardships of their everyday lives.
It was then you realised how much a single smile, the simplest of acts, could brighten a person’s day.
Or, in your case, a person’s entire life;
for everyday you’re witness to his smile and all the warmth that comes with it, a safeguard against bad shifts and worse days. He’s a pure soul with a heart that never falters and a mood that never sours. No matter the season, the weather, or the guest, Jungwon spends every moment bestowing joy and empathy to a broken world.
“He’s amazing,” you murmur.
To yourself , mind you, but that doesn’t stop your night shift replacement from overhearing.
“And he’s single,” she says, unplugging your phone from the desk charger and holding it out to you. “You should ask him out… or maybe I will, just to spite you.”
With a roll of your eyes you accept your phone and leave your aromatic post in her capable hands.
—
It’s unintentional timing, truly, that finds you both walking the corridors to the staff quarters side by side. The nice older woman you’d helped earlier in the day had stopped you for a quick word. You tried to pay attention to her radiant praise of her room and the hotel itself but your eyes wandered, and where your eyes went so did your mind. It took great effort to keep your body still, grounding it in place lest Jungwon’s gravity ensnare you once more.
Call it divine luck – the woman departed in high spirits right as Jungwon finished his hand-off to his own night shift counterpart. He called out a soft goodnight to the team, to which the entire lobby staff reciprocated. Falling into step with one another came naturally, as did filling the gentle silence with talk of your independent yet parallel days. This is the status quo. What’s good and proper. No messy feelings or talk of relationships. Just coworkers. Friends .
“You outdid yourself today,” you say, long past content with ending a day without a proper conversation. “Your desk looked magnificent.”
Jungwon rounds a corner and pauses. You don’t stop, tired feet eager to end the day despite your heart’s protests. The staff quarters is up ahead, the steel keypad gleaming under the LED lights overhead. A few more steps and you’ll part ways, not just for the day but the whole weekend.
You can’t help but wonder how he spends his days off. Does he rest? Catch up on sleep or laze about? Is he secretly a party animal? Catch a cab out only to walk home in the morning? Does he live day to day?
Does he let his heart decide how best to live his life?
“I have to do my best,” he says, and the softness of his words has you turning to face him.
“Why? You’re just competing with yourself. You’re in a league all of your own, you know. No one comes close.” You’re rambling. “Not even if they tried, so…”
He sighs as he takes the last few steps to pull ahead and open the door for you. The downtrodden smile that tugs at his lips is so unlike him it damn near hurts to see. It isn’t right. How could the light of the universe flicker and dull? And how can you be expected to stand by quietly and watch?
You can’t bear to watch him spiral alone, lost to whatever dark place his thoughts conjured.
You’ll bring a smile to his face one last time before your parting.
You’ll find him and bring him home.
With a curtsy and an exaggerated bow, you glide over the threshold. Before he can follow you inside, you reach back to hold the door for him. Your goodwill gesture does nothing except earn you a tired frown. You knew it wouldn’t be easy; the roots of melancholia always grow deep.
Oh well. You’ll just have to dig deeper.
“Right this way, my flower prince,” you call out in a posh English accent. “Doth thou haveth any last requests from thee?”
“What are you–”
“Perhapseth you needeth a hot cocoa? Thougheth it iseth a spring day, faire and hot, like you good sir. A cold cocoa might be in order…eth. Ordereth. Ifeth you wanteth.”
“A cold cocoa”–Jungwon grimaces–“sounds awful! Please, no, never.”
You exhale for much longer than necessary and throw your hands up. “The flower prince haveth no taste.”
“But! I do actually have a request, squire. I demand to know your–”
Upon hearing your disapproving tut he breaks off into a laugh so sweet, it uplifts the drab staff lounge and brings colour to a room once devoid of it.
“I desire the source of thou’s flowers. I wish to knoweth the location. If thou drops the secret to where such rare and beautiful flowers are beheld, thou shall be forgiven for making a mockery of regency period pieces.”
You snort. “Like you did any better.”
“I was up to pitch – you weren’t even center left field.”
“Okay, okay, let’s end this before we do to sports what we–mainly you–did to Bridgerton,” you call to him as you speed walk over to the lounge's snack station. After pocketing some fruit and with a little pep in your step you skip back to Jungwon. “But honestly I don’t think you can handle knowing where I get the flowers.”
Handing him a tangerine, you watch as his face scrunches in confusion, eyebrows knitting and lips pouting. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls open his locker. You sneak glances at him from time to time as you fiddle with your locker’s combination. He’s packing up for the day, exchanging his work gear for his personal belongings. Seconds pass in relative silence as you follow suit.
After the heavy clang of both locker doors crashing shut solidifies the true end of shift, a final (albeit temporary) goodbye of sorts, you’re left unable to move.
Taking a step toward the exit, even a single step, ends whatever it is the two of you have in this fleeting moment. It breaks the bubble, returns you to your own personal, individual, separate lives.
It’s too soon.
Can’t you stay a little longer?
Would he want to stay with you a little longer?
“Well,” he says, and your stomach drops.
When he turns to you he’s smiling. Always smiling. So vivid, so effulgent. Your body reacts automatically, your expression mirroring his own. A flood of endorphins overcomes all sensibility. You don’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever. Is it selfish? Is it selfish to covet this feeling? To want it always and for no other?
“Well.” You nod, unable to look away, unwilling to shatter the moment.
Jungwon takes a step forward and your first instinct, to your embarrassment, is to lean toward him. A wisp of hibiscus encircles you as the distance between you closes faster than you expect it to, as if you’re not alone in your desires, as if he, too, wants this moment to stretch on and span eternity.
You come to a jerky halt before he has a chance to, giving you time to confirm that he is also leaning in. You might’ve leaned in first, but he leaned in twice as hard. He’s practically doubling over you, cutting the slight height difference out of the equation entirely. Any closer and he’d breathe your air. You’d breathe his air. The thought is dizzying, which is concerning on several levels.
Friends, remember?
Keeping it professional.
Keep it professional.
"Well?” and this time you realise it’s not an ending but a question. “Don’t leave me out in the dark.” As if you ever would. “I can keep a secret.”
A secret?
Right. The flowers.
“What makes you think I’m not spending my hard earned paycheck at a florist?”
“Do you really think you can pull one over on me when it comes to florists in this area? I know them all,” he says matter-of-factly. “I know all the gardens, too. I’m the flower prince, remember?”
“Okay,” you acquiesce. “I’ll tell you. Better yet! I’ll show you. But I want to know where you get yours, too. Deal?”
Jungwon extends his hand, a triumphant smile playing on his lips.
“Deal.”
—
An afternoon of texting gave way to an evening of bantering which concluded with ardent plans to meet in the morning. 7am to be precise. Early enough to catch some sun before the midday heat sets in.
Wistful hope and millions of thoughts kept you awake half the night until you at last passed out from sheer exhaustion. Getting up and ready for the day would’ve been torture if not for the fact that it was all for the best cause: seeing Jungwon. Outside of work, no less. In your free time!
Birds sing their little hearts out in bold declarations of love and trees whisper secrets from an eon past. Whenever the breeze picks up the tall grass sways and a hint of a floral paradise teases you. Somewhere along this trail is Jungwon’s secret garden. He hasn’t confirmed the existence of said garden but you know you’re right. The scents, the colours, the atmosphere – it’s all too vibrant, too magical.
It’s been an hour since you stepped foot on the uneven dirt path. You had been a little late (finding the spot proved more difficult than you anticipated) but Jungwon didn’t seem to mind as he leaned against the back of his car, soaking up sunlight with a content smile. When he caught sight of you he waved. His visage, unabashed joy simmering through an outwardly cool exterior, warmed your heart (and your cheeks, though you hope it wasn’t too obvious).
It took the majority of the hike to calm your jittery nerves. Constant reminders of your self-imposed friendzone does little to dissuade the yearning of your heart. Sneaking glances at Jungwon only heightens the battle raging within – the backpack he’s carrying, what is it for? Does he really think you’ll need so many supplies when he simply instructed you to bring nothing more than a bottle of water? Or does he plan to use this time to collect flowers, a sort of two-in-one excursion?
“We’re here,” Jungwon says as he gently guides you to the side of the path.
“Already?”
At least time flies when you’re overthinking your entire life and every interaction you’ve ever had.
Jungwon huffs out a little laugh before looking up and down the trail. The coast is clear. He takes a step off the rocky dirt onto plush green grass. With a ‘come hither’ wave of his hand, he abandons the path and heads straight toward the treeline. You gulp as you also check the trail one last time, though undoubtedly for very different reasons. There doesn’t appear to be any indicators or markers – how can he be so certain this is the place? For the entire trek you’ve been surrounded by lush foliage and towering trees. What makes this spot any different?
You follow Jungwon off the barely beaten path and into the unknown. A shiver of excitement shoots down your spine. It’s not every day you get to try something new, go somewhere fun.
Emerald leaves caress your skin in a gentle welcome. Birds chirp high above, their calls harmonious. When you glance down you find the remnants of a brick road long forgotten to the years. It’s easy to question what you see. Being present in the moment, however, is much harder.
Pushing the concerns and the curiosity from your mind, you ground yourself in the here and now. Spring is fleeting, sure, yet in its own way it is eternal. Year after year it returns, all of its wonders and beauty offered freely. Animals, from the smallest insect to the largest mammal, rejoice as life circles back around to the beginning once more. The hardships of winter are forgotten and the world is filled with endless possibility.
Tearing your gaze up and away from the fragmented path, you watch Jungwon. Wind tousles his hair, depositing the occasional tree seed on his silky strands. Most fall to the ground but you count one, two, three remaining. It’s a conscious decision to reach out, your fingers gliding through his hair and shaking the seeds loose. He’s soft, so soft and surreal under the mosaic rays of sunlight breaching the canopy.
He’s turning to face you, his chin parallel to his shoulder, and your breath catches in your throat. Brown eyes twinkle alongside an energetic smile that never fails to brighten your day. He’s ethereal, impossibly so, born to live amongst the flowers and bathe in the sun. The glade he’s taken you to does little to distract you – he outshines it all. This fact is proven, you realise, by your complete disregard of your journey’s end. How could it possibly compare to him?
“We’re here,” he says, his tone light. “What do you think?”
“Amazing,” you answer breathlessly, never once breaking eye contact. “Truly the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
A smattering of pink dusts his cheeks. “You haven’t even seen it properly yet.”
He reaches his hand back toward you, delicate fingers inviting you to hold, to be held. When you clasp his hand within your own, his warmth spreads from your fingertips through an intricate highway of nerves all the way to your heart. Within seconds your entire body is flushed with heat. You refuse to run from the sensation, doubling down by squeezing his hand, a gesture he returns as he guides you to the centre of the field.
As hard as it is to look away, you know how special this place is to him. You can stare at him for eight hours straight come Monday but he might never bring you here again, an outcome that is becoming more and more likely given how little you seem to care for his treasured paradise.
Swivelling your entire body away from him you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Sweetness coats your tongue and you let it sit there, savouring the taste, before exhaling. You inhale once more and hold the breath, allowing the air to rejuvenate your lungs. Your mind clears. A gentle breeze washes over your skin, cooling you. It’s relaxing; the whole world standing still so you can smell the flowers and listen to birdsong. Pushing the air through your parted lips in a slow exhale, you open your eyes.
Blinking does little to wash away the painting you’re greeted with. You doubt tears would even be enough to erase the beauty of the scene before you. There’s no other way to describe it, either. Hyperbole be damned – it’s fantastical like the Garden of Eden with as much colour and flair as the Miracle Garden in Dubai.
Thousands of tulips, roses and camellias bloom in brilliant shades of sunrise. Light beams down upon the glade, highlighting individual flowers as if they were hand-picked by the Lord Himself. Bees float above the petals, drunk off the sweet spring nectar, their wings humming an afternoon sonata.
A distinct wave sweeps through the tall grass and before long you see its source: a family of gray squirrels, three playful and eager kits with their tired mother. A small gasp escapes your lips, garnering both the squirrels’ and Jungwon’s attention. While Jungwon smiles, the squirrels are less happy to see you. They take off back into the woods at lightning speeds.
You’re at a loss for words as you rotate in a semicircle, taking in the swaying trees and the critters bustling about.
It’s all so alive;
so wonderful and free.
“Jungwon, this place…” you trail off as you take a step toward him, your hand reaching for his. Fingertips graze and the affection you’ve denied for so long blossoms. “It’s magical.”
He interlocks his fingers with yours, a silent invitation, one you accept without hesitation. Sidling ever closer you cosy up to him, side by side. You rest your head on his shoulder and sigh. “Thank you for bringing me here, for looking out for me, for caring.” Thank you for all the love you’ve shown me. “Thank you for everything.”
“I am the one who is grateful,” he murmurs, and you tilt your head to better see him. “You push me to greater heights and encourage me when I fall flat.”
You huff. “Like you could ever fall flat.”
“Really?” You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not so you nod, your cheek rubbing against his cotton shirt. He laughs, and you want to record the sound as a pick-me-up on your worst days. “Even now – you can’t help yourself.”
Your eyes narrow as you push away from him, your hand gripping his bicep like he’s a prisoner liable to abscond. “You’ve shown me a magical meadow full of wonder and beauty but somehow that isn’t enough?” A dog barks in the distance as you await his response. He offers nothing more than a shrug so you continue in a much smaller voice. “This isn’t enough?”
“That depends…”
“On what?”
“Where you get your flowers.”
“Where I get my– guy, my dude, you cannot be serious.”
You loosen your hold on him and give him some space. It was odd being that close anyway, like you were pretending to be something more than the two of you are. Pleasant, maybe, but still odd.
“Where do you get them? I’m finding it harder and harder to compete with them day in and day out. I’m worried I might lose soon,” he says, and you know he’s avoiding a certain topic but can’t fathom for the life of you what it might be.
You wave him off. “Yeah, yeah. Losing isn’t in your DNA so I wouldn’t worry too much. I’m resigned to a life of second place but I won’t stop trying to one-up you just because of your puppy dog eyes.”
His gaze snaps to your face (for a moment there you thought he lingered on your lips) and a flood of warmth stings your ears.
“I don’t do puppy dog eyes,” he says, and you can’t help but smile.
“If you say so,” you say with a little twirl, hands outstretched yet lowered. The tips of your fingers run across silky petals, their texture soft yet raw in a way only nature can be. “But you do. You get sad sometimes and you pout. Your lips jut out like”–you demonstrate briefly, the expression you put on far more exaggerated than necessary–“and it’s hard not to ki–”
You blanche as your mouth snaps shut.
You did not almost say that.
“Ki…?” he presses.
“Ki…ll. Kill. Kill your sadness.”
“Kill it?” he asks and, as you’re nodding (with vigour and gusto!), adds, “With a kiss?”
Forcing a laugh you ignore the sweat pooling in the well of your spine and point at a random flower. “Isn’t that pretty!”
“That’s a weed.”
You both stare at the white clover patch for a beat before you clear your throat. “No… it’s, um, it’s not. Weeds aren’t really a thing? And it’s technically flowering. So it’s a flower.”
“I agree,” Jungwon says as he leans down to examine the clover. He holds one of the flowering buds between his fingers. “Weeds are just plants people don’t want around anymore. We remove them before they have a chance to flower but they can be beautiful, too, if only given the chance.”
His voice is distant, so distant you worry you might lose him to his own thoughts. With little grace and no foresight, you drop like a sack of potatoes. The soil is soft beneath you, your knees planted firmly amongst tufts of cool grass. Wet grass. Staining-your-clothes-green grass. A chill seeps through your pants and settles into your joints.
The angle, however, is worth the discomfort.
The clover patch rests between you both, with him still bent over and now positioned to look into your eyes while you sit on the damp ground, locked in and observing every trace of melancholia lingering in the shadows of his picturesque features. He lets go of the clover as you stare up at him with parted lips, breathing an afterthought.
He clears his throat and straightens. His slight build now towers over you. It’s a new sensation, feeling small beneath him.
He’s erecting walls and throwing up neon signs in an attempt to distract you as he asks, “Why are you staring at me like that? If I didn’t know any better I would think you had a little crush on me.”
Despite his teasing tone and how clearly he’s trying to steer the conversation toward some light bantering, there’s something your heart yearns to tell him, a desire to dress a wound you never knew needed tending.
“I wouldn’t mind being a weed. They’re fighters, you know? They don’t listen to the haters; they’ll grow where they want, when they want. Against all odds.”
“Which is one of the many reasons weeds are actively targeted and eliminated – they’re a detriment to the plants around them.”
“It’s a plant-eat-plant world, my prince.”
Jungwon cracks a smile as he rolls a stone underfoot. You can’t help but smile alongside him.
“So how about you tell me what’s up, huh? Why do you have to be the best? Are your parents flower shop overlords? Did they kick you out of the family business for being a sunchoke instead of a sunflower?”
He shoots you a look but ignores your antics.
“I have to because…” Trailing off, his words fade until you’re straining to hear him over the cacophonous racket of mating calls and territorial disputes.
You blink at him a few times before rolling your hand backward a few times. “Wait, repeat that.”
“ I have to because ,” he enunciates with a little too much sass, to which you quirk a brow but remain silent, giving him time to open up at his own pace. “Because if I don’t, I’ll lose.”
“Lose what?” Your hand idly glides over blades of grass. They imprint an earthy scent on your palm and fingers but you don’t notice, too absorbed in watching Jungwon’s conflicted expression. “What could be so important?”
“You.” Did you hear him wrong? You must’ve. He’s just so quiet, his words escaping alongside a tuft of dandelion seeds let loose in the wind. “I don’t want to lose you .”
For a moment all you can manage is to stare dumbly – mouth open, eyes wide, nary a thought on your mind – until his words process instantaneously, dispersing hope to every ounce of your being. There’s so much potential in that sentence alone. It fuels what could never be voiced yet was so poorly hidden:
you’re in love with Jungwon.
Voice a whisper, you ask, “Why would you ever lose me?”
“Because you’re the sun and I’m an annual. One day you’ll best me and you’ll realise you’ve grown bored of the whole thing, that there are greener fields out there with fresh talent and innovative technique and–”
“Technique? What, like genetically modified Frankenstein plants?”
“ And you’ll realise my season has come to an end so you’ll find a new flower to bask in your light, to nurture and care for.”
Is he serious?
He can’t be.
There’s no way.
“I really need you to listen because this is something you should know,” you say as you stand. You brush your knees off in a futile attempt to look a little more presentable before using your grass- and mud-stained hands to cup Jungwon’s cheeks, holding his delicate, pretty, wincing-in-disgust face within your dirty palms. “Sunchokes are perennials. ”
He’s silent for a good thirty seconds before blurting out, “Are you being real with me right now?”
“Yes. They’re perennials. And they’re a tuber, just a little ‘fyi’ since you don’t seem to know much about them.”
His entire body deflates and his expression deadpans.
“I’m bearing my soul to you and this is the response I get? I’m called a sunchoke. A sunchoke ?”
“Yes, and a perennial! Don’t sell yourself short, Jungwonnie.”
“I am not a sunchoke.”
“Don’t hate on sunchokes. They’re good for you. And they’re pretty! An all rounder plant.” Letting go of his cheeks, you use one of your pointer fingers to boop his nose, emphasising each word as you coo, “Just. Like. You.”
Jungwon rolls his eyes but he can’t hide the mirth sparkling within them. You flash him a big grin and give him a full-body nudge, swaying on the balls of your feet as you switch from his left side to the right, your arms pressing against his, fingers eager to entwine until at last he reciprocates. He interlocks his hand with yours and that all too familiar warmth returns.
You bow your head, shying away from the idea of being too overt, wanting to childishly hide your thoughts from him. The floodgates are open and it’s too much all at once – years of denying your crush, repressing your affection, it’s written all over your face if that goofy quirk of your lip is anything to go by.
You like him, that much you know for certain.
And he likes you, even if he’s completely wrong about why you endeavour to best him.
So why must it be so hard to like one another, together, at the same time, no misconceptions?
Why can’t you just… be in love?
“Hey,” you murmur, voice soft as you ready yourself for the leap.
“Hey,” he responds, his words your safety net.
“Hey.” You don’t hide your feelings any longer, wearing your heart proudly on your sleeve as you beam up at him, willing all your tender sentiments to pour forth upon him in a gentle shower. “I don’t compete with you because I want to best you – I do it because you’re my gold standard. No one will ever outdo you, not to me. If I’m the sun, then you’re the core at its centre.”
Jungwon’s eyes widen for a mere second before they relax and a soft smile lights his entire face. He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb as a cool breeze sweeps through the glade. Upon the wind comes the hint of lavender, though it’s masked by the sweet aroma of the thousands of roses surrounding you in a veil of spring. Flowers bend and wave, some loose petals taking flight. The trees sing as their leaves rustle and small gaps in the canopy speckle you in sunlight.
Emboldened by the season of new beginnings, you lean forward, tilting your head upward.
“Wonnie, you’re the heart of the sun. You’re my heart.”
Jungwon stiffens and despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his grimace.
Which you don’t hold against him because you, too, are wincing. A low whine is bubbling in your throat and you’re overheating from pure embarrassment. Your heart ? Who says things like that?!
“That was…”
“Yeah, I know, let’s just forget it.”
“Kinda hard to.”
“Well, try to,” you say on the verge of begging but holding yourself back to protect the last threads of your dignity, “please?”
“I make no guarantees. As your heart it’s my duty to remind you about it daily.”
“That’s my brain’s job and it won’t need any help torturing me for the rest of forever, thank you very much.” You sigh, dropping your head against his chest. You bury your face in his shirt and he pats your head. “Now are you going to be my boyfriend or what?”
“Wow,” he drawls. “You really need to leave the romance to me.”
“Not an answer and I’m suffering enough as it is.”
Your eyes flutter open as warmth embraces your cheeks, your face held gently within his hands.
“There’s something I really need you to listen to, okay? I need you to understand this before I can commit to being your boyfriend,” he says as he brushes some strands of windblown hair behind your ears. Your pulse thrums, blood pumping madly at the mere mention of him, your precious Jungwon, committing to the idea of forever with you. “The heart of the sun is the core.”
You’re smiling with your entire being as his words process at their own pace. The whole glade is alive with possibility, with fervent youth! And now Jungwon is smiling as well, though his smile doesn’t look as goofy as yours feels. His is almost… triumphant, like the cat who ate a canary.
Like he’s gotten the last laugh.
It isn’t until he uses his pointer finger to boop your nose that it dawns on you.
He’s using your own tricks against you.
“You’re a funny guy,” you say with little enthusiasm. “Real funny. Great callback. So clever.”
But you let the whole thing go when his lips press to yours. Sweet like hibiscus, the kiss sends your heartbeat into a frenzy, your whole body thrumming as if on a sugar high. His nose brushes against yours as he tilts his head. The slight angle allows for closer contact, for a deepening of the connection. You part your lips and welcome him, his taste lingering on your tongue even after he pulls away.
“There’s nothing in this world I’d rather be than your boyfriend,” he says, his voice dreamlike and breathless.
“Is that so?” He nods, and you have to fight your giddy glee before it makes a fool out of you. Clearing your throat, you swallow once and take two deep breaths. “On to business, then.”
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Not at the moment, but as a rule I always prepare for the worst,” you say, patting his fluffy hair before taking a step away. You need the space to think. Your brain needs to be reminded that there’s a world outside of your super cute, really smart, practically perfect flower prince.
“Now that you’re officially my boyfriend–”
“And your heart.”
“–I have a legitimate question for you.”
“I have one for you, too.”
“Me first.” Gesturing around the glade and its thousands of brilliant flowers, you ask, “Why do you need to know all the florists in the city if you have this?”
You can see the wheels turning for a few seconds before he snaps his fingers. “Ah, right. I did say that. To be honest I don’t actually know any florists. I go in every now and then to the local shops or the farmer’s market to pick out complementary flowers if I think an arrangement needs a little something extra but…” Your mouth forms a little ‘o’ and he shrugs. “Now the million dollar question, the one I’ve been dying to know ever since you brought in that saffron crocus grand bouquet last year: where do you get your flowers?”
You can’t help but snicker. “The crocus. You know I had no idea at the time that it was worth like… big money. Like, big-big money. I couldn’t go back to the house again after that. They’d probably shoot me.”
“It’s not. Shoot you? Well, not the flower at least, the spice is. But why would someone shoot you?” Jungwon’s all over the place; he’s adorable. “What do you mean, ‘go back to that house’?”
Seeing Jungwon confused and remembering your nightly activities brings on a fit of giggles that soon grows uncontrollable. It’s a full-on laugh, loud and boisterous, but also nervous as you prepare your confession.
“Well, you see,” you manage to huff out, “I steal them!”
“You what ?”
“I steal them! From rich people's yards! At 3 am!”
Each sentence is punctuated with another bout of laughter, and by the time you finish talking you’re not the only one bent over clutching your ribs and wheezing so hard you’re crying.
“So when I took the crocus, well, I didn’t realise they were growing so much because they wanted the stigmas, you know, for saffron. Poof! All their spice gone overnight!”
Jungwon wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “I can’t believe I’m dating a criminal.”
“Soon to become one yourself.” His brow raises quizzically and you continue, “I keep my promises and I clearly remember telling you I’d show you the source from whence all flowers cometh frometh. So you and me, tonight, we’re breaking the law, baby.”
“You know what they say”–Jungwon wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back toward him–“Criminals who crime together, stay together.”
“Sexy bad boy Jungwon, hello,” you say, interlocking your hands behind his neck. “What’s next? Are you going to kiss me until I grow weak in the knees?”
He grins as he leans down, resting his forehead against your own. “I can do that.”
It’s on a fine spring day that time slows as he kisses you with reverence and care;
On a fine spring day, as you reluctantly part in need of air, the world proves itself both good and right;
It is on this finest of spring days that a pair of sunchokes looked upon one another and saw their sun gazing back.
-fin-
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