Summary: It had been a long time since you had last seen Lucas, but that didn’t mean that feelings had changed for either of you.
Warnings: Mentions of a breakup (years in the past).
Word Count: 648
Moving back to your hometown was not something that was necessarily easy for you, not when it caused so many memories to resurface. You knew you needed to face them or you wouldn’t be able to move on with your life, but a larger part of you didn’t want to. Unpacking the boxes in your new place, you come across your old yearbook feeling all the emotions you’d been avoiding bubbling up to the surface. Living here again meant you had to face the reality of leaving your first love all over again.
Lucas had been everything you’d ever wanted and needed in life and the two of you had been the ideal couple throughout the last two years of high school. Only you’d both gotten accepted to very different colleges and your life plans just did not seem to align and so as not to hold each other back you decided to break up as painful as that was. For a while, everything reminded you of him, but transitioning into a new area and college had helped you forget all about those feelings for a long time. Until this day came and you went home where every place seemed to hold a memory of the two of you.
Still, you had to do this and in turn, you had to face your past head-on. At least there were certain things you could have back that you missed. Like the coffee shop that you and Lucas agreed was the best in the whole city. Taking the first sip, you sighed softly, reliving the comfort it brought you before turning and ruining it all by running into someone and spilling your drink all over them.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” You panic before looking up from the stained shirt to instead look at the person’s face, finding Lucas staring back at you stunned.
“Let me buy you a coffee.” You both say at the same time before chuckling as you realize that even after all this time some things haven’t changed.
“Let me buy it, to make up for the shirt.” You shake your head going up to the counter to get yourself another cup, looking back at him, “Same as it used to be?”
When Lucas nods you place the familiar order before you both sit to wait for the coffee. Neither one of you was exactly sure what to say to each other after so long, it almost being like the first time you spoke again.
“So did you move back or are you just visiting?” Lucas finally asks, closing his jacket over his shirt, more so the stain wouldn’t be noticed, he could always go home and put on a different one anyways.
“I just moved back. What about you?” Part of you wants to hope that you won’t have to face losing him again despite barely having been reunited for a few minutes.
“I moved back about a year ago. I took over the family business and have been working on growing that.” Lucas explains as you both grab your coffee, he clears his throat, “Are you busy? Or could I join you for a bit?”
“I’d love for you to join me, I need a break from settling in anyways.” You agree as you both walk out. Deciding to just bite the bullet and ask the question you were anxious to hear the answer to, “So um...am I keeping you from getting back to someone?”
Lucas laughs a little bit and shakes his head, “No, no...after you no one was the same, so I kinda put all of that on hold. What about you? Got someone special?”
“No...I um felt the same way.” You admit, the both of you focusing on your drinks again as you were both flustered.
“So I wouldn’t be causing any problems if I asked you out then would I?”
a soft makeout drabble w bf xuxi, slight suggestiveness 💌
You'll never get tired of kissing Yukhei, you just simply can't see that ever happening, not when he's so sickeningly sweet to taste.
It always ends up like this after more than an hour of being alone with the doe eyed boy, even when he's got practice in approximately ten minutes. You're on his broad lap, thighs on either side of his narrow hips and your mouths pressed against eachother.
It's too good, you can get off on just this alone and he's fully aware, massive hands cupping your face, fingertips hooked at the nape of your neck while he moves back and forth from top lip to bottom, suckling.
He's always too intoxicating, everything you feel and see and hear is so inherentlyYukhei, you feel like your heart might burst right through your shirt if your chest weren't pressed up against his.
It's so domestic, huddled together on his couch, the sounds of soft smacking filling the space between you two. You're both still practically in pajamas from the night before, his rumpled black tee and grey sweats still managing to make him look unfairly good if not more.
He hums lowly into your mouth, and only then do you realise that you've gripped a tuft of his messy, plum colored hair gently between your fingers as his soft tongue brushes against yours.
Your hands move down to smooth over the planes of his neck, and then down the sturdy pair of shoulders that you've held onto so many times before in moments like this where it's sensual and sweet and you need to grasp onto him just to make sure he doesn't slip between your fingertips like a sweet dream.
He groans as he has to force himself to depart, and you can feel the evidence of his arousal underneath you, snug and firm against your center. His countenance forms into a genuine pout, irises glazed over.
"Fuck, I should just say I'm sick or somethin'"
You chuckle, amused by his boyish smirk and the whine in his tone. Both of you know that it's not an option for him to skip practice, though there's no harm in expressing your frustration. Even if it makes you ten times needier for him.
You reach out to cup his soft cheeks, thumbs stroking the soft, bronze skin. He leans into your palm, pillowy lips spreading into a warm smile as he peers down at you with lovesick eyes.
"I'll come over when you're done, if you want." You tell him, caressing the edge of his jaw.
He takes a deep breath through his nose to calm himself down, a pointless feat when you're still on top of him, warm and beautiful and all his. His hands rest on your lower back, fingertips tracing the skin where your shirt has risen up.
"Of course I want you to come over, my silly babyyyy." He coos at you in a voice that is only used when the two of you are alone, meant to make you giggle in a way that has his heart filling with adoration like a balloon.
"Kay, I'll be here then." You lean in to kiss his plush lips one more time, his chin already tilting forward in an attempt to beat you to it. It's soft, quicker than either of you would like. But it's enough.
Just for a moment; everything felt like pure bliss.
The only sound reverberating against the walls of the dance studio was the sound of laughter - the sound of happiness, something there hasn’t been much of recently between you.
You met only a year ago in the SM Entertainment building; you are the choreographer and vocal trainer for Red Velvet and he just finished a day at the studio. It was around the evening when you bumped into each other; Lucas had just finalized ‘BASS GO BOOM’ and decided to treat himself to some coffee while you just finalized the choreography for ‘Psycho’ and realized you haven’t eaten all day.
Lucas likes to say that he was absolutely ‘entranced’, but you always believed it was him being his usual flirty self. You were sweaty; your outfit was a pair of sweatpants, a crop top, and an old raggedy jumper from your father while he was dressed in a pair of jeans, a white shirt, and a dark denim shirt unbuttoned; looking as beautiful as ever.
“No, okay,” You laughed, watching Lucas jokingly mock the dance routine you were trying to teach him. “Xuxi, no, okay,” You knew he could practically do any dance when he tries hard enough, but that didn’t stop you from putting your hands on his waist to help frame his hips towards the mirror.
He quickly placed his hands on top of your hands which previously gripped tightly at his hips, and removed them. “There’s too much like…feminine moves!” He laughed, quickly turning around and wrapping his arms around your waist instead – his palms not shying away from resting on your lower back.
You knew he’s an amazing dancer and would be able to adapt these movements to become more masculine, but you did want to teach him the more feminine moves. In particular, his favorite move of yours in this routine but his least favorite for himself is when you spreads your legs holding your knees, squats with them open, glides your knee onto the floor into a side kneel, and then body-roll your way up in the span of five seconds.
“I had to teach a whole class of people like this and no man complained as much as you did!” Y/n teased, making Lucas smirk and pull her closer.
He smirked, leaning down. “Well, why don’t you shut me up then?”
The next moment you knew was hiding in the closest bathroom, chuckling against each other’s lips. y/n had a mixed feeling about the thought of their relationship being hidden from everyone – on the good end, it’s fun and secretive and cannot be spoiled by anyone else. On the bad side, you cannot be out in public areas and be affectionate; its why y/n loves spending time with him in her apartment or in the dance studio you and your ex-boyfriend own. The main reason behind keeping it this way was you may lose your job and he may suffer grave consequences from SM.
Unfortunately, y/n had forgotten that the cleaners would be coming in today, explaining their position in the unisex bathroom – her legs wrapped around his waist as she sat on the bathroom counter. “I guess that’s a sign to go home.”
He dropped his head into your shoulder, your hands immediately going to his hair and massage the top of his head. “I just want to spend time with you.”
y/n chuckled, “Me too, bubba.” You sighed, “But we can’t be caught. I will hate myself forever if you get in trouble for me.”
A/N: I SWEAR the random group generator I used for this paired up the trope and color, it’s just a really nice coincidence
21 Tropes: 3. Flower Shop AU + rose w/Lucas
Description: You find that the best things always begin with roses.
Word Count: 4.7k
Genre: fluff
Warnings: none
It’s very strange, finding a fully grown man hiding behind your display of roses. It doesn’t help that they don’t even fully conceal his body, so the whole effort is basically for naught when you only have to move a single bushel aside to reveal his face.
“Excuse me?” You say, pulling the flowers aside, minding the thorns. “What are you doing here?”
He jumps at your sudden appearance before pressing a finger to his lips. “Shh, I don’t want them to find me!”
You follow his eyes until you see the group of girls walking by, clearly searching for someone - you assume it’s him. You crouch down to ‘hide’ with him, studying his face as you do. He’s handsome with his soft brown hair and big eyes, you’ll give him that, and he seems to be a college student, maybe close to your age. Your eyes return to the windows at the front, watching the girls until they finally wander off, bickering amongst themselves. You stand up. “Okay, they’re gone.”
He stands up next to you, brushing his hands off on his jeans. You could have guessed from his frame and build, but he’s actually quite tall. He also seems visibly relieved, no longer staring intently out the window. “Thanks-,” he says, cracking a smile and sticking out his hand, his eyes quickly flashing down to look at your nametag, “-Y/N. I’m Lucas.”
“Alright, Lucas,” you say, hesitantly shaking his hand, “Why were you hiding behind my roses?”
“Those girls have been following me, trying to get me to go out with them. I came in here to hide,” he explains, moving his hands a bit as he does.
“Can’t you just reject them and go about your day?” You say, crossing your arms over your chest and quirking an eyebrow at him.
“They’re crazy about me!” He tries to explain, hands moving more wildly now. “They won’t leave me alone!”
Your eyes dart around, watching his hands move, waiting for it to happen. “You probably shouldn’t wave-”
He jumps as his hand gets too close to your roses and a thorn digs into him, causing a small tear in his skin and making him yelp in surprise. He watches in shock for a moment as blood begins to well up. You can’t help but sigh. This Lucas character is turning out to be a lot of trouble. “Come on,” you say, turning around and gesturing, “I’ll help you.” Leading him to the back, you instruct him to wash his hands, though you doubt your flowers would have any diseases on them, and you carefully apply some disinfectant onto the cut before you put a band-aid over it. “Alright,” you say, clicking your tongue at him, “be more careful next time, okay? Roses have thorns.”
“I know that part!” He responds, pouting. “Thank you for helping me. Can I repay you somehow? For this and for letting me hide?”
“Buy a flower and we’ll call it even.” He agrees and follows you back into the shop, looking around. He wanders aimlessly for a minute before he finally stops in front of a display of pink blooms, pointing at one type in particular.
“I think this one would be good.” You take the flower out for him, seeing that it’s alstroemeria. A flower signifying friendship - a good choice for someone his age. He hands you a few bills as you ring him up and tell him the price.
“Have a nice day,” you say, subconsciously putting on your customer service voice.
“Whoa, that was a transformation,” he says, staring at you.
“What?” Your tone falls back to how you were talking to him before.
“Ah, never mind. Thank you!” With that, he leaves your shop.
About two days later, you find him once again hiding behind your roses. To your relief, he seems to be more mindful of the thorns this time and, with a click glance, the band-aid on his finger is gone and the prick seems to be healing well. This time, he buys sweet pea flowers, making you think that he might know a little more about flowers than he lets on. He doesn’t say anything about the meaning - ‘thank you for a lovely time’ - before he bows quickly and ducks out. You’re almost disappointed that he didn’t stay longer, if just for the sake that he made your life a little less monotonous.
The third time, a week after the first, you catch him as he quickly rushes in to hide again. “Just go in the back room,” you say, ushering him back there, “you’ll stay hidden better in there than behind my roses.” He does as you tell him and you follow, pushing the curtain covering the doorway aside.
You stand in silence with him for a moment before he speaks up. “Do you know how to care for succulents?”
“Yes…?” You say slowly. Succulents should be one of the easiest plants to keep; you have your own small army in your apartment. “Why?”
“Mine aren’t growing. They look sad.” He almost looks like a puppy in that moment, disappointed by the fact that his plants seem unhappy. You’re glad he cares enough to ask you.
“Do they get enough sunlight and water?” It’s always best to start off with the basic questions.
“I think so,” he says, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
“Do you rotate the pots so that each side gets light and do you let excess water drain from their pots?” The next level of questioning - more complicated things.
“I don’t,” he admits, looking at his shoes. “That might be it.”
“Maybe,” you say, smiling. Plant talk always manages to lift your mood and it helps that he seems especially receptive to the information. “Let me know if that doesn’t work, though.”
“Thanks, Y/N,” he pauses, looking at your face before noting, “You’re happy.” You flush, not having realized you showed your pleasure at the topic so openly on your face. You hum in response, trying to brush aside the topic and move the curtain to peek out of the room. No one is outside of the store.
“Coast is clear,” you say, holding the curtain aside for him to follow you out. He does, and his eye is immediately caught by one particular flower by the door that he had missed in his initial haste to come in. You grin. “Those just came in today! They’re angelica flowers.” You move to stand by him as he observes the little white sprays.
“What do they mean?” Startled, you look back up at him. He continues. “Flowers have meanings, right?”
“Um, yeah, all flowers have meanings! Angelica flowers mean inspiration.”
He nods, looking serious as he scrutinizes the flowers. “I can see that.” You almost laugh at the comment, but you figure that it’s people like him that gave flowers their meanings in the first place. “Can I get some? I think I need the inspiration to keep hiding from those girls.” This time, he gets a chuckle out of you.
“Of course,” you say, smiling as you bring him over to the register. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you even do with the flowers? Give them to your girlfriend or something?”
“Don’t have one,” he responds, letting the question slide by easily as he digs in his wallet for some cash, “I put them in my house. It feels less empty with them there.”
You figure you’re not close enough to really push the matter, but his words bring you a twinge of sadness. You think about your own little apartment and the plants you’d filled it with to try to mask the gap your parents left. Perhaps you have more in common with him than you thought you did. “Well,” you say, after a little bit of consideration, “if you ever need more plant company, you’re always free to come here.”
“Really?” His face lights up. “I thought you didn’t like me.”
You flush in embarrassment at the comment. Had you really come off that coldly to him? “N-no,” you stutter out, keeping your eyes down on the money in your hands, “I don’t dislike you. I just don’t know you super well.”
He laughs. The feeling that he fills the shop with is so infectious that you almost start smiling in response. “Okay,” he says, taking his flowers and change. “I’ll see you later, then.”
“See you.” You give him a short wave before you remember something. “Oh, and Lucas! You can just come hide in the back now. I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”
With a shout of affirmation and a wave, he’s gone.
That is, until the next day.
You’re taking a short break out in the back, organizing some of your stock, when you hear the bell at the front. “I’ll be right with you!” You shout, putting down what you’re doing and making your way out a minute later. Out front, you see Lucas making himself comfortable at the little table and chair set in the middle of your store. You’d initially put it there as a place for your customers to sit while waiting, but it’s also a place you work on projects from time to time. He pulls out some textbooks from a backpack, along with a laptop, and you approach him. “Not hiding today?”
“Nope! They didn’t follow me today.” He says happily, opening one of the textbooks. “I wanted to come anyways to enjoy the company of plants, like you said.”
You nod. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.” After about thirty minutes of silent work, with you observing his cute concentration face every so often, you finally speak up. “Are you a university student?”
“Yeah,” he says, looking up from his work, “I go to the university down the street.” You’re familiar with it – a lot college boys come here to buy flowers for their girlfriends and some of them are regulars. It’s part of the reason you were somewhat surprised that Lucas said before that he didn’t have a girlfriend; you don’t get a lot of single college boys coming to buy flowers. Then again, you suppose that his circumstances are a bit different. “Why are you always here?” He asks, surprising you at his bluntness.
“What do you mean? I work here.”
“Doesn’t anyone else work here, though? I’ve never seen anyone else do your job.”
“Sometimes my friend Taeyong comes in, but that’s about it, I guess. I own the shop and I think I do a fine job of managing it myself most of the time.” You know you’re fully capable, you wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t, but you understand his confusion.
“Doesn’t that take up a lot of time?” He looks at you with wide eyes, admiration clear on his face. Your heart swells a little bit with pride.
“I mean, yeah, but I love it.” You’re not lying when you say that – you do love it. It’s hard sometimes, but you love it.
“You’re young,” he says, making you nod, “why do you already own a flower shop?”
You pause. You would never tell a stranger about your past, but you suppose Lucas isn’t a stranger at this point. Something about him makes you want to open up when you ordinarily wouldn’t. “I… my parents passed away a couple years ago. They left me the shop and I couldn’t just let it waste away.” He’s silent, the admirative look replaced by a look of pity. “Besides, I’ve been around flowers my whole life and I was planning on taking over the shop at some point anyways. It just happened to be little bit sooner than I expected.” You try to lighten the mood a little bit, forcing a smile onto your lips.
“If there’s anything I can do to help…” You can’t help but think that his handsome face looks much better without a frown.
“I’ve managed this far,” you say, keeping the smile on your face, “I’ll be alright. Though I do appreciate the offer.” You look away quickly before deciding that you don’t want the conversation to be over quite yet. “I told you about my life. Now, tell me about yours. You said the flowers you get here make your house feel less lonely?”
His expression transforms and he beams for a moment, happy that you remembered a comment he made in passing, before he answers. “I moved here from Hong Kong to go to university. My house back home used to be kind of loud and full, so it’s really quiet now that I live alone.” He stops speaking for a second before looking down. “I miss my family,” he adds quietly. Your heart aches and, if you were closer to him, you would’ve hugged him to try to erase the pained look on his face.
“I’m sure you’ll see them again soon,” you say, unconsciously setting a hand on top of his in an attempt to comfort him. When he feels your touch, he stares at it for a moment, surprise clear in his eyes and, once you realize what you’re doing, you jerk your hand away, your face beginning to heat up instantly. “You’re from Hong Kong,” you say quickly, wanting to ignore what you just did, “what’s your real name? I assume it’s not Lucas.”
“Yukhei,” he says, his normal, cheery expression returning to his face, “or, in Mandarin, Xuxi, pronounced kind of like ‘sushi.’” You try saying his name, both versions, and, though you don’t have much experience with Chinese, the pronunciation feels almost natural on your tongue. At least, so you think. “That’s pretty good,” he says, grinning, “but, you can just call me Lucas if it’s easier.”
His smile is infectious and you can’t help but feel your lips curling upwards as he continues to talk to you, even if he had basically just told you your pronunciation of his name is bad. “Okay, Lucas. Why did you choose that as what you wanted people to call you when you came to Seoul?”
“A friend gave it to me and it just stuck.”
The two of you idly chit chat as you work, the conversation coming and going, and you find that it’s nice to have someone to talk to when you’re usually alone. You learn that he has a younger brother, that his mother is Thai and his father is Chinese, and that his succulents seem to be ‘happier’ now. He learns that you don’t have any siblings, you’re the same age as him, and you like making arrangements for weddings the most, besides the terrible attitudes of the occasional grumpy bride or mother. Eventually, another customer enters the shop and you stop what you’re doing to go help them. He’s a young man, out of college, and his dress shirt and tie are slightly askew – bags weigh down his eyes, but you think you’d seen him before at a better time. You give your usual opener, ‘how can I help you?’ and he’s quick to respond.
“I really messed up,” he says, voice rough and low, “I need to apologize to my girlfriend.”
Your lips part and your face moves to make an expression of understanding, and you nod. “I understand. Would you like me to make a bouquet for you that says ‘I’m sorry?’” He nods furiously in response and you move around the store quickly, picking up what you need while the young man trails you. “White tulips, for new beginnings, ivy, for dependability, and red roses, for love.” You stop in front of the front counter again. “Does this sound okay?”
“That sounds perfect,” he says, a smile finally making its way to his face, “I just hope she’ll understand.”
“I’m sure she will,” you respond, ringing him up. When he leaves, you find Lucas staring at you as you approach him again.
“Can you teach me about flowers?” He says suddenly, surprising you to a degree.
“What? You want me to teach you?” No one had ever requested something like that from you before. You figure that, while they’re the most interesting thing in the world to you, the topic would be lackluster to most people.
“Kun-ge always tells me that I should try to learn something new every day. So, teach me!” He says, a happy look in his eyes at the thought of his elder and the prospect of new information..
“Aren’t you in college?” You can’t help but ask. “Shouldn’t you be learning new things anyways?”
“But, I want to learn from you,” he insists, leaning forward with his elbows against the table. His brown locks brush softly against his forehead, landing just above his curious, sincere eyes.
“I’m sure you don’t want to hear about flowers,” you try to say, not wanting to bore him.
“That’s fine!” He insists, staring at you intently, “If that’s what you want to talk about, that’s what I want to hear.”
Your eyes widen a little bit. No one ever wants to hear you talk about flowers. The way he says it also flatters you, drawing a blush on your cheeks. “Oh. Well, if you insist. What can I start with…” Your eyes dart around the shop. Sunflowers, lilies, orchids, roses… roses! Those were what he was hiding behind the first day, so that would be a good introduction. You gesture over to your rose display. “Well, roses are about the most basic that you can get. You might have heard me earlier, but red roses mean love, specifically romantic love. If you have a darker crimson rose,” you say, pointing at one bunch in particular, “it can be a sign of mourning. Yellow roses usually mean friendship, but they can also mean things like jealousy and decrease of love, while white roses represent purity. Lastly, pale pink roses mean happiness, or something similar. Each color and shade of rose has its own meaning!” You find yourself babbling on for a little bit longer, but his gaze doesn’t leave you as he nods along. He can’t help but think that, in that moment, you’re glowing brighter than the sun outside.
Every day that he comes by, you teach him a little more. In exchange, you occasionally ask about Chinese words that he can teach you. Admittedly, you don’t absorb the language as well as he absorbs yours, but it makes you happy nonetheless. As the days go by, he stays later and later, always working at that little table until you close the shop. He always goes away learning something new and you always stay, wishing he could’ve remained there longer to keep you company as you close. The days he doesn’t come pass by dully and, one particular tiring evening, you find your eyelids drooping and your shoulders slouching as you doze off, your apron still on and your pen in hand with your stock list still in front of you.
Lucas passes by that night and, when he sees the light on in the shop long past closing time, he peers into the window, seeing your huddled form asleep on the counter. Walking over, he finds the door unlocked and he lets himself in. It takes a couple of shakes for you to be fully roused from you sleep. The hand on your shoulder is large and warm and, oddly enough, it makes feel comforted. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and lift your head to find that the owner of the hand is none other than Lucas, who is looking down at you with concern in his eyes. “Did you fall asleep here?”
For the moment, all you can do is nod in response as you run a hand through your hair. It sticks up in places and that, combined with the sleepy expression on your face, makes his heart melt a little bit. In your sleepy state, you mumble a quiet, “I missed you.” He’s not sure he hears you right, but he’ll take what he can get.
“You should go home,” he says, taking his hand off of your shoulder. A moment later, you pout, already missing his warmth. “Also, from now on, I’ll help you close so you don’t fall asleep again. Okay?”
Not fully comprehending his words, you nod. “M’kay…” He watches as you clumsily put things away before he grabs your jacket and helps you stick your arms through the sleeves. With the shop locked and all the lights off, you let him walk you home. As you walk, you wake up more and more, though drowsiness always lingers at the edge of your mind, and you become more and more aware of Lucas’s every movement next to you. His hand brushes yours as you walk, he wraps an arm around your shoulder to move you whenever you find yourself about to walk into something or someone, and you can tell he keeps glancing at you more than he usually would. The two of you stop in front of your apartment building, facing each other. “Well,” you start, feeling shy under his gaze, “Thank you for walking me back, Lucas.” He hums pleasantly in response, the note a low rumble in his chest. He continues to stare at you and you look away. “Why are you staring at me?”
“You’re just really pretty.” He doesn’t seem surprised at all by his own comment, but you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you become more and more flustered.
“I- You- Ah…” He grins at the state you’re in and all you can manage is a rushed, “Goodnight, Lucas!” before you quickly turn around and make your way into your building. Behind the closed door of your apartment, you slide down the door and lean your head against the wood, feeling your heart beat wildly in your chest. That night, your thoughts are filled with his soft brown hair under the city lights and the way his voice sounded as he called you pretty.
The next day, you pretend like the incident never happened and things proceed as normal. He comes in to work, you teach him about hyacinths, and he teaches you something in Chinese. Except, this time, as closing time comes, he doesn’t leave. “Lucas,” you call from behind the counter, “I’m closing up shop soon.”
“Okay,” he says back, starting to pack up his class materials. A minute later, he’s joining you at the front register. “What can I do to help?”
“What? You can just go home.”
“You told me I could help you. You said so yesterday.” The foggy conversation returns to you slowly and you want to slap your past self.
“I was half asleep, Lucas-” You try to argue, but he cuts you off.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says smugly, “You already said yes. Tell me what to do.” You know by now that there isn’t much use in fighting him on things like this and you suppose a little bit of help wouldn’t be bad from time to time…
From then on, whenever he stays, you give him small tasks like sweeping or changing the water for different flowers. You don’t want to admit it at first, but it really does make things easier on you to have someone helping you like that. As you work, you keep pleasant conversation and you can’t help but think that you really like Lucas. He fits in well with your flowers, you think.
“I should basically hire you at this point,” you joke one night, closing and locking your money safe. You watch him as he finishes sweeping, noting how his appearance doesn’t really match the task that he’s doing - his hair is styled up today and his outfit is slightly higher end than usual, but he’s still your Lucas.
“I do spend a lot of time here, don’t I?” He smiles as he works. “This is my favorite place.” Your heart warms at the statement. For him to consider your shop as his favorite place - it means the world to you. When you’d be so uncertain about your life and feelings before, the pieces finally feel like they’re coming together.
“I’m glad you’re here all the time,” you admit quietly. He walks you home again that night, filling the space between you with cheerful chatter, and the city seems to smile down on you.
The next day that he comes in, he’s serious, and you’ve learned from your time with him that Lucas is hardly ever serious. You try to keep your usual chatter going with him, but he seems preoccupied and your usual talk fades away for the first while he’s there. “I have something to tell you,” he finally says, his face oddly serious.
“Oh,” you say quietly, meeting his eyes. “What is it?”
“You’ll see.” The serious look stays on his face and he turns, beginning to walk around the store and collect various flowers. With each display he stops in front of, he carefully selects what he wants. You can tell he isn’t just going willy-nilly; his choices are very particular. Aster: love, daintiness. Deep red carnations: love, affection. Gardenias: secret love. Honeysuckle: bonds of love, affection. With each flower he gathers, your heart beats harder in your chest. You taught him the meaning of all of them. You know he’s not stupid - at least, not always - so, you’re almost certain he knows exactly what he’s saying as he picks out each flower. Finally, he stops in front of the rose display, the first place you ever saw him. He adds some red roses to the bunch in his hands - love. You’re frozen in place, eyes wide as he comes back to you. “These are for you.”
“You’re offering me the flowers I sell in my own shop?” You jitter nervously, praying you’re not misreading him. You like him, god, do you like him, and it would break your heart if he isn’t telling you what you hope he is. He just stares at you, eyes intense as you’ve ever seen them. Slowly, you force yourself to say the words. “You… have feelings for me?”
He nods. “Yes. Yes, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
In that moment, your heart bursts with happiness. This boy who you’ve grown to love over the last few months, this boy who has listened to your every passionate word, this boy who you’ve shared your deep feelings with and who has given you his own in return - he likes you back. “I…” you start, suddenly choking on your own emotions and unable to find the words. Slowly, you reach out, accepting the bouquet from him and trying to regain your grip on spoken language. “I would go find some other flowers to answer you properly, but I’m honestly too happy to move right now. I think we feel the same way, Lucas.”
His face remains serious for a moment before what you said fully sets in and then, suddenly, he’s cracking the biggest, brightest smile you’ve ever seen. You think that the sunflowers at the other end of your shop would have turned to face him if they saw it. “Does that make you my girlfriend now?” His words are so fast, so eager that they seem to trip over themselves at first.
“I guess it does.” You return his smile, clutching the flowers tighter as you let your emotions flow freely, finally blooming after they took root in your heart so long ago. In a flash, he’s pressing his lips to yours, kissing the smile off of your face, and claiming your lips as his own. The flowers drop from your hands as you recover from your shock and kiss him back. When he pulls away, the smile on his lips is still there and he can’t help but take your hands in his own. This time, when your hands touch, you don’t shy away. This time, you can’t look away from his big, brown eyes.
This time, your cheeks glow a different kind of rose.
Softly. Kun is slow kisses, he is kisses that pull you away so he can kiss you properly. Kun is kisses that make you touch your face after because although light, the presence of his touch still lingers on your skin, making him the only thing you can think of all day.
Ten
Effortlessly. Ten is gracefully kisses, he is kisses that make you feel like you’re floating. Ten is kisses that can make you crazy no matter how short lived.
Win Win
Shyly. Sicheng is first kisses, he is kisses that are hesitant and unsure. Sicheng is kisses that will always ask if it’s okay. Kisses that make you feel young and naive.
Lucas
Generously. Lucas is strong kisses, kisses that leave you breathless. He is kisses that will make you chase his lips with yours once he’s pulled away, because you definitely wont be the one to end it.
Xiao Jun
Romantically. Xiao Jun is unbelievable kisses. He is kisses that came out of a romance novel. Xiao Jun is kisses leaning over his guitar after he’s played a song he wrote for you.
Hendery
Innocently. Hendery is excited kisses, he is kisses that taste like banana milk and will hold your hand. Hendery is kisses you’ve grown up wanting, kisses that happen when you’re young, and no matter how old, the memory of which will make you smile.
Yang Yang
Excitedly. Yang Yang is energetic kisses, he is kisses that are always smiling. Yang Yang is quick pecks that can make you feel like you’re on a roller coaster.
