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That morning, when Hanbin gets to In Bloom, his steps are slow, the previous night still stubbornly clinging to the corners of his mind. He should’ve left the bar after one drink, like he’d firmly told Matthew he’d do, when the younger had dragged him out of their house—but he’d ended up caving underneath the pleading gazes of his dongsaengs and had stayed longer. His foggy brain is why he only notices the cardboard box on the front step of the shop when his sneaker-clad toes make contact with it, a startled huff of air escaping him. The box barely moves, perhaps filled with rocks or something of the like, and he crumples forward, hopping around on one foot as his fingers curl around his shoe.
“So sorry about that!”
A pleasant voice calls out to Hanbin, but he doesn’t know where from, his head swiveling around as his eyebrows draw together above his eyes. Finally, he spots movement in the doorway of the space next to In Bloom, which has been empty for the last few months as its previous occupant, a shady burger shop that honestly might have been a mafia front, had cleared out one day. Hanbin blinks. What was previously only movement comes closer and starts taking shape, becoming a guy walking up to Hanbin.
What Hanbin notices immediately is that the guy is beautiful almost in an otherworldly way—pale skin flawless apart from the beauty marks scattered across his face, like someone had specifically painted them on with a brush, pink lips curving away from a sculpted cupid’s bow, and sharp eyes framed by dark lashes. When they make eye contact, the other guy’s gaze brightens considerably, his cheeks bunching up.
From one second to the next, Hanbin’s mouth goes completely dry, his pain already forgotten. Much more important things are happening right now.
“Hello, neighbour!” the guy chirps, bobbing his head up and down in a friendly, yet respectful greeting. “I’m sorry about the box. We didn’t think you’d be in yet.” He continues to walk towards Hanbin, long legs carrying him closer. “I’ll move that promptly.”
“Um,” Hanbin says, stupidly, and then, before he can stop himself, “It’s okay.”
“Nonsense.” There’s a slight edge to the guy’s voice, Hanbin notices, a certain way he curls his tongue around the words. A foreigner, if Hanbin were to guess, even if his vocabulary is extensive. “I don’t wish to be a bother to my newest neighbour.”
Hanbin swallows and nods his head at the previously empty shop. Now that he feels more awake, either from the earlier pain or from coming face-to-face with this gorgeous specimen of a man, he notices that the box on Hanbin’s front step isn’t the only one of its kind. In fact, behind the generous glass storefront, he spots mountains of boxes and something that looks like a half-assembled counter. Another guy is walking around inside the shop, blond hair tucked behind one ear and a smart looking clipboard tucked underneath one arm. When Hanbin’s gaze settles on him, he looks up, a small grin curling around his lips as he waves.
“You are the new owner of the store, then?” Hanbin asks, even if the question is quite redundant.
Despite that, the guy nods proudly, his eyes sparkling. “That’s right! We’re just moving everything in now, but I hope to open in the next two weeks. You should come by for a coffee and a pastry then.” One eye drops down into a wink. “I’ll give you a neighbour discount.”
Tilting his head to the side, Hanbin swivels his gaze back to the store. The blond guy inside has wandered closer, not even attempting to be conspicuous about it, glittering gaze settled on Hanbin as if he’s trying to size him up, despite the fact that he looks about as dangerous as a wet kitten. “It’s going to be a cafe?”
“We’ll be Star Eyes Cafe,” the guy says. “I’m Zhang Hao, by the way. Feel free to call me Hao. I figured we should get acquainted.” He tilts his head curiously to the side, all puppy-like, his hair curling up at the ends. Otherworldly does not adequately convey just how pretty he is from this close. “Since we’re going to be seeing more of each other, and all.”
“Right,” says Hanbin, swallowing. “I’m Hanbin—Sung Hanbin. I was born in oh-one.”
If it is already possible, the smile on Hao’s face widens. He tests out the name on his tongue. “Neighbour Hanbin from oh-one! That makes me your hyung. If it feels appropriate to you, feel free to call me comfortably.” With that, and without the slightest bit of effort, Hao wedges the fingers of one hand below the box and then lifts it up, cradling it against the side of his body. “I won’t keep you any longer,” he says, a graceful smile playing around his lips. “Just let us know if we’re being too loud or if there’s any other nuisance that we should be aware of, and I will do my best to fix it.”
“Alright. Thank you.” Hanbin blinks and keeps his gaze on Hao as he walks back to the soon-to-be-cafe, the slightest spring in his step. By now, the blond guy has pressed himself to the window, palms and the tip of his nose flattened against the glass, as if he is trying to osmosis his way through it like that. Hanbin frowns at the sight, confused, but Hao barely glances over, as if it is a daily occurrence.
“See you around, I guess!” Hanbin calls, before Hao disappears into the shop again.
Hao looks at him over his shoulder, a curious glitter in his eyes. “I would surely hope so.” And then he is gone, calling out to the blonde guy in a language Hanbin does not recognise. Mandarin? The door swings closed behind Hao, and then Hanbin is alone on his stoop again.
A tiny sliver of information nags at the back of Hanbin’s brain. When he bumped into that box before, it hurt like a bitch. His toes start throbbing again just thinking about it, as if to drive home that point. But when Hao lifted it, he had made it look effortless, as if it had been only filled with fluff and feathers. Something doesn’t add up there.
For now, though, Hanbin has a shop to open and orders to prepare. He’ll figure it out later, when he’s more awake and less hungover. Hao, with his gorgeous face and his quirky friend, will have to wait.
-
It hasn’t always been Hanbin’s dream to be a florist. In Bloom was his aunt’s shop. She is his father’s sister, headstrong and stubborn, with a quiet passion for making the people around her happy. This resulted in the flower shop, situated very daringly in the middle of the shopping district, which quickly grew to have a dedicated customer base, ranging from young girls seeking to confess to their crushes to older gentlemen that used the walk to the shop to stay fit, and everyone else in between. Just when everything seemed so dreamy, arthritis in both her wrists threatened to take the shop from her. This was around the time Hanbin was discharged from the military, the entire world at his feet and his future glaringly empty.
He hadn’t meant to take the shop, probably would’ve dived headfirst into his dreams of becoming a dancer if there hadn’t been anything else, but his aunt had practically begged him to. He hadn’t been able to say no to her. Back in middle school, he would spend his weekends at her shop, watching over her shoulders as she carefully, ever so gently tucked flowers and pieces of greenery together to create something beautiful, something that tells a story.
There is something quiet about being a florist—snipping away the superfluous leaves from the bottom up, trimming the stems, arranging the flowers, and tying everything together with a piece of twine. And flowers are always so full of emotion, whether sadness or happiness or love, and that was nothing different from what Hanbin had hoped to evoke with his dancing. So, his aunt had asked, and he had replied. The choice had been easy.
Now, he heads into In Bloom, turning on the lights as he goes and shedding his coat. Autumn has officially arrived to stay, clinging to the mornings like the mist floating between the buildings, though the afternoon will still heat up into something pleasant if the sun manages to force its way between the clouds.
The computer behind the counter boots up with a low hum as Hanbin jiggles the mouse around, a soft thrill whistling out from between his pursed lips. His part-timer will be here in about an hour, but Hanbin enjoys the quiet start by himself: checking the orders, carrying the delivered bunches into the fridge, choosing the perfect playlist to listen to for the day. Today, he queues up the second NCT mini album and then ties his apron as he heads to the backdoor, where it won’t be long until his early morning delivery of fresh flowers arrives.
Han Yujin joins Hanbin at eleven, when the businesses around them start waking up too. Days start and end a little bit later in neighbourhoods like these, where young people thrive and infect their surroundings with their growth.
“Did you know there’s a new shop opening next to us?” are the first words out of Yujin’s mouth when he enters the shop, the bell hanging above the door merrily announcing his arrival.
“No,” says Hanbin, deadpan. “I hadn’t noticed at all.”
Yujin huffs and rolls his eyes, disappearing into the back to put his coat and bag away. When he steps out again, he’s also donned his own apron, the little blossom stitched in the centre of the fabric looking especially darling on him. “As I was saying,” he says, sweeping his fringe away from his face. “It’s good that there is going to be a new cafe. That place has been empty for too long, and it reflects badly on us.”
“Oh, now you suddenly care about our appearance, do you?” Hanbin teases. “My, how grown-up you’ve become, my Yujin-ie.”
Wounded, Yujin turns sorrowful brown eyes on him. “Hyung, I’ve always cared about it!” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, totally boss baby style. “I’m going to inherit this place when you’re old and grey, you know that right?”
Hanbin yelps. “We only have a few years’ difference, you squirt!”
The day starts like that, and the issue of the new cafe is pushed to the back of Hanbin’s mind. While In Bloom opens around the start of the afternoon, it won’t be until two before it’ll really start getting busy with pick-ups and customers wandering in. So, before that, Hanbin and Yujin prepare the bouquets and flower arrangements that will be picked up today, trimming stems and choosing the perfect sprigs of green to fill the spaces in between the colourful blooms. There’s a delivery of new glass vases around one, so Hanbin tasks Yujin to carefully unpack them and put them on display at one of the long workbenches scattered around the shop floor.
Girls come to In Bloom to flirt with Hanbin. This is a fact that cannot be disputed, even though Hanbin whines and pouts when his friends bring it up to tease him. Apparently a gentle guy working with flowers with an itty waist cinched by his apron and an agreeable face brings in the girls. Who would’ve thought.
It’s easy now for Hanbin to let those girls down gently—done in such a way that it doesn’t break their spirits, but also convinces them that this is not a viable path to continue on. Most of the girls still return afterwards, so Hanbin isn’t too worried that he’s chased them away for real. And he won’t deny that the current situation does bring in a sizable clientele. He’s never held the aspiration to get rich from the flower shop, but he does want to make enough money to keep the place running and pay the part-timers.
(Of course, when guys come to flirt, it’s always been a bit more difficult for Hanbin to say no. He’s been on a few dates, but so far, it has led to nothing but friendship and perhaps lukewarm sex. Beggars can’t be choosers, it appears.)
Hanbin starts to work on the bouquet orders, and the bell above the door rings again, signaling an arrival, Yujin hurrying over to help the customer. It is as normal a day as ever.
The matter of the new cafe next door is pushed to the back of Hanbin’s mind.
--
Star Eyes Cafe officially opens its doors a week later. It’s a festive opening, as far as Hanbin knows, with flower wreaths and balloons outside of the door—though exactly none of the decorations encroach on In Bloom’s steps. Apparently, the cafe does some kind of opening promotion, perhaps a discount on drinks or pastries, because the line goes out of the door that Saturday, wrapping around half of the block.
Hanbin works with Gyuvin that day, who resembles a shocked stringbean when he folds his long body through the door, his eyes so wide that Hanbin worries they might pop out of their sockets. “There are so many people out there!” he says, the volume of his voice above what could be considered ‘appropriate inside voice’, arms pinwheeling around to give his story a bit more umph. “It’s crazy!”
“It appears the cafe is opening today,” Hanbin says. “Faster than I expected, to be honest.”
Gyuvin nods in agreement, his hair flopping around. “They must have been super lucky—not a single delay.”
Pursing his lips, Hanbin chances a look at the younger boy. “Do you think it’s a bit . . . shady?” he asks, delicately. “Like, it’s almost unheard of for any business to be able to open as quickly as that, right? At least one thing should go wrong, or something.”
“I don’t know about shady.” Gyuvin drops his bag off and returns whilst tying his apron, fingers moving nimbly. “I guess they just prepared really well.” He looks at Hanbin, puzzled. “Have you been thinking about this a lot, hyung?”
“Not a lot!” Hanbin yelps, then widens his eyes, wounded. “What do you take me for, Gyuvin-ah . . .”
“Just checking,” says Gyuvin, grinning. “One would almost think that you are obsessed with them. Yujin-ah said that you were looking out of the window at them a lot. The owner is quite handsome, isn’t he?”
Hanbin scowls. “Yujin-ah should consider not snitching.”
Gyuvin lets out a wistful sigh, slipping on a pair of gardening gloves. “Well, I’m sure their coffee is amazing, but I’m not waiting in that line. I’ll go another time, when it’s quieter.”
“One would almost forget that you have to be on the clock—” Hanbin checks his watch, “—three minutes ago. Chop chop, kiddo, these flower stems aren’t going to trim themselves!” He all but thrusts a pair of shears at Gyuvin, uncaring of the way it probably makes him look quite desperate to change the subject.
Still with a knowing look in his eyes, Gyuvin takes them from Hanbin. “Very interesting,” he hums. “Very interesting indeed.”
--
It takes Hanbin another week and a bit to finally make it to the cafe, but there’s only so many times he can hear their coffee is literally to die for, really, by both his customers and his part-timers before curiosity gets the best of him. By now, the interest in the cafe seems to have died down a bit, at least from the absolute chaos it had been the first few days. It’s a quiet day in general today, and Hanbin is manning the shop with Gunwook, who is responsible enough to be left by himself. Hanbin quickly slips out of his apron and then heads to their neighbours.
“Neighbour Hanbin!” Hao chirps, as soon as Hanbin steps through the door into the cafe, the bell hanging above the door singing a gentle tune. The other’s eyes are round and sweet, his voice curling around the words attractively when he looks at Hanbin. “I was wondering when you’d come.”
A small smile blooms on Hanbin’s face before he can talk himself out of it. Apart from himself and Hao, the shop is empty, so Hanbin feels brave enough to say, “Been waiting for me?”
Hao’s head bobs up and down, apparently not ashamed by the easy confession. “I told you to come by once we were fully opened, did I not? And you seemed to agree, so I figured it was only a matter of time.” His teeth gleam when he grins at Hanbin, mischievous. “Guess I was right. So, what can I get you?”
Eyes narrowing, Hanbin looks at the chalkboard hung up on the wall behind the counter. It is immediately obvious that someone with a clear vision has filled in the space there. Hanbin’s mind dazzles just reading the names. You Are My Perfect Match-a. Berry Hearty Strawberry. Love You A Latte. Around that, someone with artistic talent has drawn cute doodles of smiling cups of coffee and a pair of cherries on a stem hugging. “Um,” he manages in the end. “Anything you would recommend? I like coffee and sweet things.”
Immediately, Hao snaps his fingers at Hanbin. “I know just what you need. Leave it up to me.”
After that, inexplicably, Hao disappears into the back, despite the fact that a massive coffee machine is positioned on the counter behind him, chrome front panels gleaming. It does give Hanbin ample opportunity to look around the cafe. The main furniture is basic but tasteful; the walls are painted a cream colour, and wooden tables and chairs—all different but matching—are scattered around, framed at the back by a white tiled counter with a wooden top. Beyond that, the spaces are filled in with plants in absolutely all shapes and sizes: a potted ficus in the back, a smattering of calathea and fiddle leaf figs on wooden shelves, pothos and chinese money plants swaying in wicker baskets hung from the ceiling. Every table has a little glass vase with dried, autumnal flowers stuck in them, completely in theme. Hanbin loathes to admit how much he enjoys the entire vibe here.
When Hao returns again, he is holding a plastic cup wrapped with a cute, fall-themed cup sleeve, an orange straw nestled amongst a perfect cloud of whipped cream. On top of the whipped cream, Hao has drizzled star-shaped sprinkles in a variety of colours, clearly in theme with the cafe’s name. The only thing Hanbin can think, annoyingly, is, this is really cute.
“A pumpkin spice mocha for our sweetest friend from next door,” Hao says, holding out the cup with his eyes sparkling—and Hanbin has the horrible realisation that he totally understands why the cafe is named the way it is. “I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
Hanbin swallows and cradles the cup to his chest, confusion from before forgotten in the face of Hao’s bright smile. “Thank you.” He holds up his phone. “How much do I owe you?”
Hao just waves a hand at him. “Like I said before, neighbour discount.”
“I won’t refuse that.” Hao is still beaming at him with the force of a thousand suns, so Hanbin feels obligated to take a sip, just to be courteous. The moan that falls from his lips as soon as the drink hits his tongue is completely and wholly accidental. His mouth drops open and he casts his gaze in Hao’s direction, various questions battling in his mind. In the end, all he ends up blurting is, “What the fuck did you put in that.” It ends up being less of a question and more of a disbelieving statement.
Clearly in the mood to be mysterious, Hao only shrugs at him. “I put in a bit of this and that—friendship, a sprinkle of joy, the wish for us to become dear neighbours. And, of course, good quality pumpkin spice. It’s autumn after all.”
Hanbin narrows his eyes. “Keep your secrets, I guess.”
At those words, Hao bites his lip, something delighted blooming in his gaze. “You’ll just have to try harder if you want to figure me out, neighbour Hanbin.”
“I just might.” And with those fighting words, Hanbin takes his (annoyingly) delicious cup of coffee, taking a long drag from the straw and fighting for his eyes not to roll to the back of his head, and makes his way towards the door again. As he leaves, the blond guy that he noticed the first time he had seen Hao, enters the cafe, a curious look on his handsome face. But Hanbin is in no mood to explain himself, so he just pushes past him.
“See you around, neighbour Hanbin!” Hao calls before Hanbin can leave, the tone of his voice smug like he knows he’s won. “And don’t take so long next time!”
We’ll see about that, Hanbin thinks, just to be vindictive. He doesn’t say the words out loud.
--
The following morning, when Hanbin wakes up, the bulb of an autumn rose graces the pillow next to his head, petals spread splendidly as if the flower bloomed just that night. Hanbin brushes it off, thinking that he must have taken it home from work the previous night. He rolls out of bed and starts getting ready for the day.
--
If Hanbin stands just behind the arch of the rightmost window of his shop and turns towards Star Eyes Cafe, and Hao happens to wander onto his doorstep or just a few paces behind that, Hanbin can observe him without being seen. This is not stalking, okay? Hanbin is just watching, observing, taking notes. On Hao, that is. Hanbin is looking for anything that implicates him. Of what that might be, Hanbin isn’t quite sure yet, but he does know that something is going on.
What Hanbin has gathered so far: Hao’s friendly but professional, and when he smiles, it’s obvious that whoever he is talking to believes they have his complete attention. Oftentimes, he walks some of his customers to the door, chatting the entire time, soft smile-bags bunching up underneath his eyes. Sometimes, when he laughs out loud, the cadence of his voice carries through the window separating him from Hanbin. Sometimes, before he can put a stop to it, Hanbin finds himself smiling in response, because there is just something joyful to an unrestrained laugh like that. If nothing else, Hanbin knows that that, at least, is not faked. He doesn’t quite know where he is going with this yet, but he thinks if he just keeps watching, he’ll stumble across something. He has to.
“Hanbin-hyung—”
Whatever Gunwook is about to say is cut off by Hanbin jumping about a metre in the air, so caught up with staring at the neighbours that he had tuned out absolutely everything happening around him. He yelps, grabbing at his chest like his heart is actually trying to leap out of it, and whirls around to face his friend-slash-co worker. “Gunwook-ah!”
Gunwook sends him an intrigued look. “You okay, hyung? I just wanted your opinion on this arrangement.”
Flustered, Hanbin waves a hand at him, trying to get his breathing under control again. “I’m fine,” he says, voice curt. “Let’s just get this show on the road, shall we?”
“Alright.” Though Gunwook does just exactly that, he keeps sneaking glances over at Hanbin throughout the day, curious and thoughtful.
Hanbin stubbornly ignores all of that.
--
Hanbin’s apartment is just a fifteen minute walk away from In Bloom, a lucky find that is both relatively affordable and conveniently located. It means that, after a long day working at the flower shop, which really is a more physically demanding job than people tend to expect, he can be home quite soon. Tonight, he huddles underneath his umbrella, autumn having decided to arrive not only with reds and golds in the trees, but also with slate grey, rainy skies. He expertly dodges both puddles and hurried salarymen, a cheery tune falling from his pursed lips as he thinks about the night ahead of him: he’ll order in food, eat it slumped on the couch with trashy variety shows playing on the television, and then he’ll take a long and luxurious bath. It’ll be exactly what he deserves.
Of course, this is not what ends up happening.
As soon as he pushes through the door, he notices the extra pairs of shoes in his entryway, two wet coats hanging haphazardly from his coat rack. He places his umbrella in the umbrella stand and rids himself of his own outer layers, then continues on into the kitchen-slash-living-room area.
That is where he finds Taerae and Matthew, their ankles hooked together underneath the table, half-eaten plates of pizza placed in front of them. They talk to each other in hushed tones, honey dripping from their eyes when they look at each other, bottles of soju at their elbows. Matthew has propped up his phone against a glass in between them, the screen showing what must be a looping video of a flickering candle. It’s absolutely ridiculous. It’s also absolutely them.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is not quite what I had in mind when I gave you guys the code to the front door.”
Both Taerae and Matthew look up at him, freakishly in sync as always. Taerae shrugs. “It’s date night,” he says, like that is an explanation. When Hanbin continues to stare at them blankly, he adds, “The neighbours are fucking again. I think the whole building can hear it. By this point, we’re convinced they have an exhibition kink.”
Ah. Hanbin winces. “Fine. But only for tonight.”
They all know that is a lie. Hanbin plods over to the table and sits down at his usual chair—the one that has a bit of a wobbly leg, but Hanbin knows how to balance on it just right to not fall on his ass.
“Did you at least order me a pizza?” he asks, a bit pathetically.
Matthew scoffs. “Who do you take us for, hyung?” He points at the kitchen island, where a square box is still waiting for Hanbin. “We added extra meat for you.”
“I guess you guys do deserve breathing rights,” Hanbin mutters, mostly to himself, and stands back up so that he can retrieve the pizza. The cardboard of the box is still hot enough underneath his hands, smelling of a mouthwatering molten cheese and the aforementioned charred meat. Hanbin loads a handful of slices on a plate and grabs his own soju glass from the cabinet, before he joins the other two at the table once more. Screw date night. They’re in Hanbin’s apartment. They’ll have to deal with Hanbin.
Once he is fully situated and about two-and-a-half slices in, Hanbin gets startled by Taerae turning to him quite abruptly. “So,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Do tell us—how are the shiny new neighbours?”
Hanbin sighs and tips his head back, sending a glare through narrowed eyes. “They’re fine,” he says, after a long pause.
“You don’t have to sound so excited,” jokes Matthew. “Yujin told me they have great coffee!”
“I feel like Yujin is too young to drink coffee,” Hanbin says, aware of how pathetic he sounds.
“Yujin is nineteen.”
Grumbling, Hanbin crosses his arms in front of his chest. “The neighbours are fine. They’re cordial. I think they’re a bit . . . interesting, I guess. If I had to call it anything.”
Taerae looks way too enthused for how much of a non-answer that was. “Interesting is fine, right? Interesting is great!”
Hanbin’s brows lower in thought as he looks at Taerae first, then moves his gaze to Matthew. Even Matthew is vibrating in place a little bit, excited about something that Hanbin cannot really place. He lets out another long sigh. “Spill,” he says, flatly. “Who snitched?”
The two of them look at each other in a clear admission of guilt, and Hanbin catches half of a silent conversation of raised eyebrows and pointed glances—which is probably the two of them trying to decide who is going to confess—before Matthew exhales loudly and then turns to Hanbin. “It doesn’t matter who snitched,” he starts.
“But it was Kim Gyuvin,” Taerae quickly jumps in, then gives his boyfriend a winning smile when Matthew stares at him, clearly disappointed.
Hanbin snorts, triumphant. “I knew it.”
“Anyway.” Matthew clears his throat, pointedly glaring at Taerae for a beat, and then turns back to Hanbin. “Someone that you work with—whether that is Gyuvin or not—”
(“It is,” says Taerae, again.)
“—has told us that you’re staring out of the window quite a lot to look at the pretty owner of the cafe next door. And you’re staring with quite an intense gaze, we’ve been told, so me and Taerae have been tasked to figure out what is going on there.” Matthew smiles, puffing up his chest proudly. “It’s our noble quest, you see.”
“The staring doesn’t mean anything,” Hanbin says. It’s for my research, he doesn’t say. “I’m just looking.”
Gaze forlorn all of a sudden, Matthew reaches over to pat him on the arm. “You know we just care about you, right, hyung? We want you to be happy. Maybe even be happy with someone.”
“I’ll be fine, Tthew-yah.” Hanbin can’t really bring himself to be annoyed at Matthew, like, at all, so he just smiles at his friend. “On another, but also kind of similar note—you’re still on for opening the shop this Tuesday, right? I have that appointment in the morning.”
Matthew huffs, peeved. “Of course I will be there, hyung. You know that you can count on me.”
Warmth blooming inside of his chest, Hanbin grins at his oldest friend, then walks around the table so that he can hug the both of them individually. He stretches his arms so that he can put his hands on both of their shoulders and gives them a quick, strong squeeze, fingers really digging in. “Now get out of my apartment, you two. I really need to shower.”
--
Let’s put the record straight—or gay, whatever. Hanbin is not just forlornly gazing out of the entrance of In Bloom to gaze at Hao whenever he wanders onto the set of steps in front of Star Eyes Cafe to talk to some of his customers.
It’s just that Hanbin’s Figure-Out-What-Is-Going-On-With-That-Zhang-Hao Plan (name to be workshopped at a later moment) is off to a rocky start. The first problem is the guy, Hao, himself. Every time Hanbin sees him, even if it’s just across the street, it’s like half of his brain cells decide to give up being functional. Call it ‘pretty boy syndrome’ or ‘Hanbin hasn’t gotten laid in three months’—but either way, the outcome’s the same. Hanbin locks eyes with Hao, even if he’s inside of his own shop, and all rational thought gets thrown out of the window, stomped on, and then burned alive.
Still, there’s been some progress at least.
Evidence point one: they’re in a recession. It’s not just a South Korean thing, the entire world is in a bit of a pickle. Things are getting more expensive, not cheaper, okay? Hanbin had to hike the price of his flowers just two months ago, so it’s rough out here. He knows how it feels and how much it hurts because he is a business owner. But Hao loves giving out drinks for free, and when the customers manage to actually pay for a drink, he totally undercharges himself. Like, no way that he can buy good quality ingredients and still run a profit for those prices.
Evidence point two: Hao is always working in the cafe, be it by himself or with one of his beautiful co-workers—more on this topic soon—but it’s not like how Hanbin or Gunwook or even Yujin do it. Hao will take someone’s order, be it for a coffee, some other drink, or a pastry, and he’ll disappear into the back, through a door behind the counter. By doing so, he’ll completely ignore the shiny appliances on the counter around him, including the gorgeous pink stand mixer Hanbin has been salivating over ever since he saw it. When he returns, every single time, he’ll be holding whatever the customer had ordered, and it’ll always look fresh and delicious. All of that while Hanbin hasn’t seen him bake a single pastry once. And he’s been checking, okay? His mother used to own a cafe, so he would say he quite knows the ins and outs.
Third evidence point: Hao’s coworkers. Hanbin doesn’t quite know how this fits into the entire context of things yet, but the thing about them is, well. They’re both gorgeous, okay? The kid, apparently younger than Hao and either called Ricky or Quanrui or both, looks like he stepped right out of a manhwa. His face is completely flawless and wholly unreal, blue eyes glinting underneath the warm lights of the store. And then there’s another guy, who Hanbin believes is called Jiwoong and who only pops in every now and then, hovering protectively around Hao. His face must be straight up carved from marble, otherwise Hanbin has no explanation for his beauty. And don’t even get Hanbin started on Hao . . .
Grumpy and perhaps irrational, Hanbin has settled on the conclusion that there is no way that three people as gorgeous as that would work together.
Point four: that box. The damned box on Hanbin’s doorstep. He knows that it was heavy as balls because he did indeed bruise his toe in it. Very unfortunate and all. Hao had picked it up like it had contained feathers. One and one is not three.
So, with those four points taken together—flawless logic, if you ask Hanbin—there can only be one conclusion: something fishy is going on. The mafia, perhaps, though Hanbin doesn’t know why they’d have a front as delightful and inviting as the cafe. Money laundering, perhaps? Or some kind of social experiment? Hanbin doesn’t quite know how to fit all of the pieces of evidence together yet, but he knows that he is just a step away from some kind of answer. There is just one vital piece of information missing.
With narrowed eyes, he runs down the last few blocks towards In Bloom. He’d been so lost in thought that he is a few minutes later that he’d normally arrive, but he figures he can be excused, since he is the owner, and all that.
“Neighbour Hanbin!” Hao calls out from where he is standing on his front step, golden autumn light falling down on his hair as he waves at Hanbin with a heart-stoppingly bright smile. “Hello there!”
Before he can stop himself, Hanbin is already waving back. And then he realises what he is doing, flattening his hand against his side again, so fast that a slapping sound can be heard where his hand meets his upper thigh, and clenches his jaw. He continues towards the flower shop, footsteps hasty, determined to ignore the burst of delighted laughter that follows him inside.
You won’t win this one, Zhang Hao. I will figure out what is going on with you.
--
When Hanbin makes his way into the shop a few days later, the bell ringing above his head, the first thing he notices is the awkward jerk Matthew’s body makes as he twists away from Hanbin, as if he’s burned himself. The second thing Hanbin notices is the pale green take-away cup that Matthew is trying and horribly failing to hide behind his waist, pink cursive scrawled around the rim.
Before he can stop himself, a noise of displeasure falls from Hanbin’s lips, and his eyes narrow. “Really? Colluding with the enemy, are we?”
“C’mon, hyung!” Matthew whines immediately, not even trying to hide his transgression anymore. “You’ve also tried their coffee! And you said it was delicious too.”
“That was because I needed to scope out my competition,” says Hanbin, voice curt.
Matthew sidles up to him, his eyes the size of five hundred won coins. “The owner was really nice and persuasive. He even gave me the coffee for free since it was the first time I went there. Said that he hopes I’ll keep coming around.”
Hanbin snaps his fingers at Matthew, triumphant. “See, it doesn’t make sense!” He drops his bag and jacket in the staff room and grabs one of the aprons, tying it around his waist with practised movements. “If you didn’t know yet, we’re in a recession. That means you need to work a bit harder than you did before to make money, and sadly you also have to hike your prices. Not give out stuff for free!”
“You give me free flowers all of the time,” Matthew argues. “So that I can give them to Taerae.”
“Yes, but I know you,” says Hanbin, grabbing one of the roses from the buckets that had been delivered that morning and pointing it at Matthew. “You’re my best friend. Taerae is my other best friend. If there was anyone I would give free flowers to, it would be either of you. But I wouldn’t go around and just give them out to the first person that walks into my shop.
Matthew pouts. “I’m not a random dude. I am the neighbour.”
“Truthfully, you are not really the neighbour either.” Hanbin expertly rids the rose of its thorns and then tucks it amongst Matthew’s curls, flicking his nose as he does so. “Just for today. Anyway, thank you for opening up shop for me this morning. It looks great, as always.”
“I told you that you could count on me.” Matthew grins and gestures at the buckets of flowers he has already started to prepare, scarily efficient as always. “And the flowers were nice to me today, so.”
Hanbin laughs, endeared. “You and your flowers.”
They work in relative peace for the remainder of the morning and into the early afternoon, until Matthew has to duck out to go to his actual work as a choreographer at a midsize idol company. Normally, one of Hanbin’s part-time workers would fill in the space, but Tuesday afternoons are quiet enough that Hanbin can just work by himself for the rest of the working day.
He gets in the groove of it, preparing handfuls of bouquets for the day and creating some display pieces for sale inside the shop. When the schools let out, there is a small group of giggly students coming in to peruse the flowers and buy a few small bouquets wrapped in tissue paper, but soon enough, the stream of visitors peters off again. From then on, it is just Hanbin and his flowers, which is perfectly fine by him too. The tops of his fingers stain green as he cuts through the stems and trims the leaves, movements gentle and practised. It’s time for autumn roses, Hanbin has decided, so he is preparing to decorate a special table the following day.
The bell above the door sounds, startling Hanbin out of his thoughts.. “Has your little friend left already?”
“Matthew?” says Hanbin, automatically. “Don’t let him hear you call him little.” And then he looks up, and realises who he is talking to.
There, hovering in the doorway to the flower shop, is Hao, who looks around with a wide, curious gaze. It is then that Hanbin realises that this is the first time the cafe owner has taken a step inside the shop, always polite enough to leave that distance between the two of them. Here, surrounded by the flowers and sprigs of greenery, he fits in a bit too well.
“Why are you here?” Hanbin asks, fighting to keep his voice even as his heartbeat pounds in his throat.
Hao swivels his gaze around to look Hanbin in the eye, a small grin playing around his perfectly pink lips. “Market research,” he thrills, slowly moving forward and crossing the threshold that had separated them until now. “The drink I gave your friend today was one of my newest menu items, and I wanted to know what he thought of it. I’ll just have to ask him another time, then.” He sighs, playfully put out.
Hanbin tilts his head to the side. “Personal market research?” he asks. “Do you do this for everyone who gets to try a new drink?”
By now, it is clear that Hao is moving towards Hanbin with intent, his eyes as bright as ever. “Only when the customer’s friend is pretty,” he says, voice heavy with the implications. He purses his lips, then grins. “And intriguing, of course.”
Before he can stop himself, Hanbin squeaks, cheeks undoubtedly reddening. At the same time, his hand jerks, one of the thorns on the rose stem he’d been handling sinking into the soft pad of his thumb.
Rookie mistake.
Hanbin would say that he knows his way around flowers by now, having handled them at least four times a week for the last few years. By now, he has rid more roses of thorns than he can possibly count. He could probably even do it with his eyes closed. It would, of course, be Hao who would startle Hanbin so much that all of that wouldn’t mean anything. Hanbin looks down at his hand, dumbfounded, a singular drop of red blood welling up from where the skin of his thumb had been split.
Making a soft noise of shock, Hao crosses the last handful of metres that had separated them until now, past that invisible line. Before Hanbin knows what is going on, Hao’s fingers curl around his wrist, holding him steady as he peers down at the small cut with furrowed eyebrows. Hao’s hand is soft, Hanbin realises with a dry throat, and he swallows noisily as Hao’s thumb softly brushes across his pulse point.
“Are you okay?” Hao asks, his voice soft.
Embarrassed, Hanbin only shrugs, making sure the movement does not tug his hand free. “It is only a small wound,” he says. “Barely a wound, really. Just idiocy. I’ve handled, like, thousands of roses in my time.”
“Still.” Hao’s gaze flickers back up to Hanbin’s face, looking at him from underneath his eyelashes. “You should be more careful in the future.”
Hanbin flushes. “You startled me!”
“Did I?” Hanbin just knows that the other’s voice sounds vaguely cocky and a bit satisfied. He watches as Hao grabs a handful of the tissues from the box Hanbin keeps on the desk—which he has placed there for related mistakes, if he’s being honest—and dabs at the blood. It stains the white tissues with a dark crimson spot, but after that, no more blood wells up. Hao’s touch must be a balm, honestly, because the tiny cut doesn’t hurt anymore.
“While these roses are beautiful,” Hao says, sounding a bit as if he is teasing Hanbin, “I do hope you’ll be more careful in the future. You need your talented hands to create the bouquets you sell here, after all.”
“You like roses?” Hanbin can’t help but ask, curiously, skipping over the latter part of Hao’s sentence.
Hao releases Hanbin’s hand so that he can grab the rose that Hanbin had cut himself on, skimming his thumb across the top of the petals. The corners of his mouth quirk up. “I have a close bond with them,” he says, a bit vague. “I like these especially—autumn roses. They always bloom so magnificently.”
“Why don’t you keep this one?” Hanbin says. “I can hardly add it to my bouquet now that I’ve bled all over it—” (and while it is not that dramatic, neither of them point it out), “—and it suits you well, Zhang Hao.”
At those words, Hao looks touched. Then he smiles. “Perhaps you could suit me well too, Sung Hanbin.” Before Hanbin can say anything to that, he twirls the rose between his fingers and tucks it behind his ear, already backing away. With a last wink at a gobsmacked Hanbin, he leaves again, the bell above the door cheerfully announcing his departure.
Long after Hao is gone, Hanbin keeps replaying their conversation over and over in his head. Did Hao actually mean what he said before he left—? No, that would be ridiculous. It would be better for Hanbin to keep to his original intentions, which are to figure out what is going on with Hao.
Everything else is just . . . extra.
(It doesn’t mean anything that he hadn’t managed to finish all of the bouquets he wanted to because he kept thinking about the way Hao’s voice had sounded when he had spoken Hanbin’s name. Absolutely nothing!
That is what Hanbin tells himself, at least.)
--
An autumn rose bulb is floating merrily in Hanbin’s toilet when he goes to pee in the middle of the night. He nearly has a heart attack when he sees it, thinking it is some kind of small rodent, and his breathing only slows down once he flicks on the light so that he can actually see it. It remains there stubbornly, so Hanbin fishes it out with one of his hand towels, and then sets about doing his business. In the morning, he sleeps past his alarm, so he has to rush to work.
It is not Hao behind the counter when Hanbin makes it to Star Eyes to continue his very important research, but the blond guy Hanbin had seen the first day Hao had been moving in. Hanbin thinks about it for a second, eyes narrowing. Ricky. The younger guy is humming to himself as he sweeps the front of the shop, a cute apron tied around his waist and his bangs swept away from his forehead. The chimes hung above the door announce Hanbin’s entrance and cause Ricky to look up, eyes brightening in recognition.
“Neighbour Hanbin!” he greets, his pronunciation similar to Hao. “Are you here for a drink? Let me just get you something I think you’ll like!”
“Um,” says Hanbin, but Ricky is already abandoning his broom against the side of a table and hurrying into the back. Hanbin waits, feeling awkward, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his foot tapping against the floor. Lucky for him, Ricky is back in record time, holding out a cup for Hanbin with some kind of pink milk in it, topped with whorls of fluffy cream and the juiciest strawberry Hanbin has ever seen in his life.
“Strawberry,” Hanbin manages, as he takes the drink and cradles it between his fingers. “You think I’ll like it?”
Ricky nods, long eyelashes sweeping across his cheekbones. “It’s my favourite fruit, so I did my best to make it as delicious as possible for you. They’re a winter fruit, so.” He smiles at Hanbin, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth, the canines a bit sharper than Hanbin has seen before. It gives him the impression of a pleased cat.
As Ricky offers no further explanation, Hanbin takes a long sip of the drink, strawberry milk and cream mixing on his tongue. The drink is sweet, perhaps a bit sweeter than he would have liked normally, and as delicious as Hanbin remembers. Yet at the same time, compared to the drink that Hao had made him, that pumpkin spice concoction, this drink is just missing a little bit of something. Hanbin can’t really put his finger on it.
“Sorry,” Ricky says, a bit sheepishly, easily reading Hanbin’s expression despite the fact that he has tried his hardest to school it. “I haven’t really figured out how to fold in the childhood dreams and the sunsets as well as Hao-hyung does it. I’m still learning how to do that, so it’s not perfect yet.”
Hanbin stares at him, and Ricky just blinks back, boba-eyed, as if whatever he said was totally reasonable.
“Anyway!” chirps Ricky, clearly not one to be frazzled. “Hao-hyung told me that if you came in and he wasn’t here, I would have to give you a pastry on the house as well. I’ll be right back.” And then he disappears through the door again before Hanbin can protest, simple as that.
“You really don’t have to do all of this,” Hanbin says, flustered, when Ricky returns and all but throws him something that looks like an almond croissant, still steaming gently as if it had just been taken out of the oven.
Ricky waves his hand at Hanbin, non-plussed. “Nonsense, neighbour Hanbin.” He suddenly widens his eyes, lacing his fingers together and pressing them against his chest. “Actually, there is something you could do for me, if you were so inclined to.” Shoulders heaving, he takes a deep breath. “Please send over your coworker with the long-limbed puppy likeness sometime when I am working. I wish to observe him from close by.”
Confused, Hanbin raises one eyebrow. He thinks about it, and, well—yeah. “Gyuvin?”
“Is that his name? Gyuvin.” Ricky curls his tongue around the word as if it is something precious, and it’s then that Hanbin realises that he might not have been the only one looking surreptitiously from one shop to another. Except, of course, that Hanbin is looking at Star Eyes because he has to do research, and absolutely for no other reason, ha ha.
Shaking his head, Hanbin banishes that train of thought from his mind. “I’ll be sure to send him by in the near future,” he promises. “All you have to do is be here.”
“You got it!” Ricky’s enthusiasm is infectious, apparently, because Hanbin finds himself smiling along when the younger guy beams at him. “In turn, I will give you as many free drinks as you want when you come by.”
“On that note,” says Hanbin, still cradling the drink and the pastry to his chest like they are precious children. “I have to head back to the shop. See you around.”
Ricky nods at Hanbin. “Come by soon again, neighbour Hanbin! Hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too.”
It is only when Hanbin is standing on the steps outside of the cafe that he realises that he didn’t even do any of the research he was planning to do when he decided to head to the cafe. There wasn’t a dramatic stand-off, Hanbin hadn’t managed to grab Hao by the collar (and kiss him) and make him confess what was going on, and there hadn’t been any stealthy information gathering either. No, instead Hanbin formally had met Hao’s quirky little dongsaeng, had been fed and hydrated, and had even forged a secret pact.
Well, there’s always a next time.
--
He sees the flower again when he gets back home that evening, but the previous night feels like a murky dream, so he figures that he probably imagined finding it in the toilet in the first place. He carries on with his life as normal.
--
“You’ve been awfully quiet about that next door cafe guy,” Matthew says, one night, when he and Taerae have made themselves at home in Hanbin’s apartment again, stretched out across the couch. “What was his name again? Hao? Have you settled down from your mad dash before?”
Hanbin shrugs from where he is sitting at the kitchen table, scarfing down the leftovers of the food Taerae and Matthew had ordered. “Research continues. I think I am close to a breakthrough. Just yesterday, I was walking past the alleyway next to the cafe, and Hao’s friend—Jiwoong—stumbled out of it. I don’t think he saw me, but he looked frazzled as hell. I was quite certain of it but I checked, and the alleyway leads to a dead end. Yet, it looked like he’d been running for a while. It definitely looked suspicious.”
“Maybe he had just been lifting some heavy stuff,” Taerae suggests, the grin around his mouth showing that he definitely finds Hanbin amusing. “The dumpsters are in that alleyway, right?”
“Maybe.” Hanbin doesn’t even try to keep the doubt out of his voice.
By now, Hanbin is well aware that his friends think his obsession with finding out what is going on with Hao and his cafe is . . . quirky. Cute, even, perhaps. They think he is interested in Hao, and that’s why he is like this. Hanbin has given up on correcting them, recognising a losing race when he sees one. And it’s not like his friends are cruel to him, they’ve never been, and Hanbin loves them a lot, but there’s only so many ways he can try to tell them that something is off, he swears it, before he starts getting tired of repeating himself.
He stabs his spoon into the fried rice with a vengeance, squaring his shoulders determinedly. He’ll just have to show his friends instead.
--
Every so often, Hanbin has his part-timers climb onto a safety ladder (up to par with all of the safety regulations, of course) and clean the top of the awning outside of the shop. Just so that the dirt and grime do not build up and there aren’t any green smudges. In general, the kids can quite handle themselves, and Hanbin just leaves them to it, but today there has been a lot of movement outside of Star Eyes, so you can’t blame a man for being curious. Hanbin has already seen Jiwoong come and go three times, and even Ricky looks a bit more flappable than usual. These are good enough reasons for Hanbin to also hover outside, pretending to be busy arranging the bouquets for sale in the buckets outside, and fussing over Gunwook on the ladder, all so he can keep an eye out for what’s going on at the neighbour’s.
Nothing conspicuous, or anything. This is just Hanbin’s job. (And if Gunwook is curious as to why Hanbin keeps hovering so much when he normally retreats as soon as they’ve set up the ladder, he doesn’t say it out loud.)
A long time of nothing passes. Hanbin figures that the potted bouquets could use a wipe down, so he ducks inside to grab a wet cloth, then spends some time making sure absolutely everything is completely dust free. He glances over in the direction of Star Eyes a few times, but that’s just to be sure Gunwook doesn’t fall from his ladder. That one-and-a-half-at-most metre fall could really hurt him!
Just when Hanbin is about to throw the metaphorical towel in the ring (or the real wet cloth in the bucket back in the store) and go back to the things he actually needs to do, his persistence is rewarded. In the form of a new arrival, that is.
It is the arrival of possibly the hottest woman Hanbin has ever seen. And that’s saying something, considering, you know, the fact that he is gay.
She emerges from the direction of the alleyway on the other side of Star Eyes, but Hanbin can follow her entire walk toward the cafe as if time has slowed down just for her. Her blonde hair is cut into sharp lines just above her collarbones and the line of her brows, and seems to shimmer almost iridescently underneath the falling autumn sun. The outfit she wears is simple but effective, framing the lines of her body in a flattering way. Her lips are a bloody red, probably the blood of the enemies she’s slain. All Hanbin thinks is that she is missing a sword at her side, which would complete the entire warrior princess aesthetic she has going on.
Hao welcomes her familiarly on the steps of Star Eyes, wrapping her in a hug, and when they pull back, there are tiny, matching grins on both of their faces. A moment later, they both disappear into the cafe.
“I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything, hyung,” Gunwook says, immediately.
“Huh?” says Hanbin, managing to tear his eyes away from the neighbours so that he can blink at Gunwook. It is clear that the younger boy has also paused his work to follow the events happening next door.
Gunwook scales down the ladder so that he can smile at Hanbin as if he is something fragile. “That hot girl,” Gunwook says, with a nod over his shoulder. “I’m sure her and Hao-hyung aren’t actually a thing. I know that you like him like that, but I don’t think you have anything to be worried about, or anything.”
“Oh,” says Hanbin, blinking, and then again, “Oh! Well, actually, me and Hao-hyung—” He splutters, stumbling over his words.
“You could totally be a hot girl too, Hanbin-hyung,” says Gunwook, misunderstanding Hanbin’s confusion. He reaches over and pats Hanbin on the shoulder, a serious look on his face. “You’re the hottest girl I know.”
I should really get my kids positive female influences, Hanbin thinks, miserably. He just smiles at Gunwook. “Thank you, Wook-ah. Not quite what I was aiming at . . . but thanks.”
Gunwook’s head bobs up and down. “Always here for you, hyung.”
Clicking his tongue, Hanbin fights his shoulders from slumping. He’ll be—fine, he guesses. It is true that he doesn’t really know anything about Hao, so this should not come as a surprise or a disappointment. Hanbin had been quite enjoying their little cat and mouse, after all, and he would be sad if it would just fizzle out like this.
That is what he tells himself.
He heads back into the shop and spends the rest of his day working at the shop as he normally would, though he feels that his heart isn’t in it. He just hopes that he can school his face well enough that his customers don’t notice anything. How embarrassing would it be if his heart interfered with his professional life like that?
Just at the last moment of his working day, as he is checking the orders for the following morning, the bell above the door sounds. Hanbin looks up from his tablet to find himself face to face with Hao. Because, of course, who else would it be?
“Good evening!” he calls, a bit perplexed. “I am afraid we’re closed for today, but I’ll be back here tomorrow morning for any orders?”
Hao hums. “I’m not here for flowers.”
“Oh,” Hanbin says, blinking. He tilts his head to the side. “Um.”
“I just wanted to know,” says Hao, grinning innocently. He mirrors Hanbin’s stance, hair spilling across his forehead as if he had wished it to be that way, and purses his full lips. “I just wanted to know if you figured out everything that you wanted to know. You were staring quite hard all day, after all, and at me and my friend, no less.”
A peeved sound bursts forth from Hanbin’s mouth, though his heart is racing. “Excuse me?”
“Curiosity looks good on you, neighbour Hanbin,” Hao whispers, leaning closer so that he can smirk at Hanbin. “And, probably to your own detriment, so does annoyance.” He pulls back and has the audacity to wink at Hanbin. Fuck him and fuck him for making that look so effortlessly sexy as well, specifically!
Hanbin can’t help the way his expression instantly goes from shocked to annoyed—probably exactly like Hao had intended. He huffs through his nose, a cross sound, and fights to keep the blush from his cheeks. “I will figure you out, Zhang Hao.”
“And I told you, didn’t I?” Hao’s eyes glimmer with something heavier than joy. “That I will be waiting.” He blows a kiss. “Until next time, neighbour Hanbin!”
When the bell chimes to signal his departure, it almost sounds like it is mocking Hanbin.
--
Yawning, Hanbin pushes into his apartment, running a hand through his hair and probably messing it up completely. Some days, he comes home singing and dancing, and other days, it feels like someone grabbed him by the ankles, hung him upside down, and shook him until his soul left his body through his mouth. He might just faceplant into his couch and then not move until the food he wants to order arrives at his door.
“The man of the moment!” comes Matthew’s booming voice from the direction of the living room.
Hanbin jumps about a metre into the air, clutching his chest. He whirls around. “What are you doing in my apartment?”
Taerae shrugs. “Neighbours.”
“One day, that couple is finally going to move out when the complaints finally get taken seriously by building management, and you’re going to be so sad that you don’t have a valid excuse to come bother me anymore.” Hanbin drops off his stuff in the hallway, stepping out of his shoes and leaving them messily piled up on his welcome mat of a smiling cat, and then beelines towards his bedroom to get changed.
“You love us!” Matthew calls after him.
“That’s up for discussion!” Despite the words, there’s a small smile on Hanbin’s face when he meets eyes with himself in his bathroom mirror. He guesses that, between moping around all night by himself or being surrounded by his friends, he knows which is the better option. Not just for tonight, but for his general mental wellbeing too.
He gets showered and changed into something comfortable, joining the two on the couch. Without exchanging any words, Matthew hands him a bowl of steaming hot ramen, complete with a couple of tissues to clean his face. Hanbin sends him a grateful smile and then spends the next few minutes positively inhaling the noodles, even if the broth kind of burns his tongue. Soft yolk of the onsen egg bursts on his tongue, and he sends Matthew and Taerae pleased looks between bites. They’re kind of the worst, and also kind of the best. Hanbin wouldn’t exchange them with anyone else for the world, or something like that.
“So,” says Matthew, grinning evilly at Hanbin as he finishes his last slurp of the broth, delicately dabbing at his lip with one of the tissues.
Hanbin raises his eyebrows at his friend. “So?” he parrots.
Matthew nudges Taerae with his elbow. “The two of us actually do have an ulterior motive for coming here and bothering you. We were curious about how it’s going with your neighbour at the cafe. It’s been a while since you told us anything about that.
“Are you really dragging Taerae into this as well?” Hanbin asks, rolling his eyes.
“No,” says Taerae, primly. “I want to know as well.”
Grinning, Matthew curls his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Forgive us for being curious about your love life, hyung. It’s been a while since you’ve been in a relationship, after all.”
“Love life?” splutters Hanbin. “Relationship?”
Snorting, Taerae pokes Matthew in the cheek. “Didn’t I say that he would be evasive?” he whispers, except that he doesn’t whisper it, but he just says it out loud. While looking Hanbin right in the eyes, and everything.
“I’m not being evasive!” says Hanbin. “There’s nothing going on!”
He receives twin confused looks at that. “You’re saying that you’re that interested in a guy, and you don’t even want to date him?” Matthew asks, disbelieving. “You’ve been literally keeping his schedule! We thought that was because you were deciding on the best time to confess to him.”
Hanbin pinches the bridge of his nose. “There will be no confessing.” He pauses, thinks about it. “At least for now.”
“Then what is going on with you and that Hao guy?” says Matthew.
“I told you.” Hanbin juts out his bottom lip. “I’m doing research. Something is up with that guy. And I’m going to be the one who figures out what that is.”
A long sigh bursts free from Matthew’s mouth. “You’re still on this?”
“No, no,” says Taerae. “He’s got grit, determination. Kind of like dangling a big nut in front of a squirrel with rabies. I like it.” He ignores Matthew’s bewildered big nut? and swivels his head towards Hanbin. “You still think there’s something right? Something that’s off about this Zhang Hao guy who is extremely beautiful and makes delicious coffee? Who charms all of the ladies in the neighbourhood and even the grumpy ahjussis?”
Eyes narrowing and lips flattening out, Hanbin nods. “I do.”
“Alright, hyung,” says Taerae, a conspiratorial smile playing along his mouth. “If you’re so confident that something is going on, I guess it’s time for you to gather some actual proof and show us once and for all.”
--
Hanbin isn’t stupid. On average, he would say he has a good head on his shoulders, he’s sensitive in a way that means it is easy for him to understand people, and he is good at taking tiny bites of information and tying them together logically. So, despite what his friends say, and despite the fact that Hanbin may indeed be interested in Hao like that, or maybe not, Hanbin has to put all his crucial clues together, and come to a conclusion. Sometimes, though, one might just need that one person to tell them up from down.
To this end, there is only one person that Hanbin can turn to.
“Han Yujin,” announces Hanbin, as soon as the maknae pours through the door of In Bloom. “I need your help.”
A self-satisfied smile lights up Yujin’s face. “I thought you would never ask.” He hurries into the back and rids himself of his stuff, reappearing at record speed. He smiles at Hanbin, folding his hands in front of his stomach neatly, and nods. “Okay, spill.”
Hanbin pulls his notebook and a pen from the personal bag he’s hung up behind the counter, flipping past pages of notes (and messy sketches of Hao’s face) to come to the concluding page he’d jotted down the night before.
“Here goes,” says Hanbin, taking a deep breath, and then starts to talk.
To his credit, Yujin listens intently as Hanbin outlines all of the observations he’s made over the last few weeks, the conversations he’s had with Hao, and then all of the explanations he’s dreamed up so far—the mafia front, the social experiment, Hao being some kind of runaway prince from a kingdom they’ve never heard of . . .
When Hanbin finishes, Yujin blinks at him for a long time. Hanbin can almost see the gears turning behind his bunny eyes. “Wow,” the younger boy says, at last. “That is a very thorough list, Hanbin-hyung. I wouldn’t have thought that I would ever say this—but it almost sounds like you might be on to something.” His lips press together, as if he didn’t want to admit it, but saw no other choice but to do it.
“Yes,” says Hanbin, miserably. “So, what do I do?”
For a moment, it is silent as Yujin thinks. When he speaks, his voice is low but full of weight, almost like he is channeling some kind of ancient sage. “You have to go directly to the source. And you have to catch them unawares, so that they can’t hide anymore.”
Hanbin clicks his tongue, a surge of determination coursing through him. “I know exactly what I must do.”
--
Okay, that’s it, then. With Yujin’s permission (if it can be counted like that), Hanbin knows exactly what he has to do. He needs answers, and he needs them before he actually goes crazy. Because Hao seems to enjoy toying with Hanbin, and so it is time for Hanbin to take a stand. He can’t have Hao think that he is easy!
The day after his conversation with Taerae and Matthew—including, of course, that thinly veiled challenge from Taerae—Hanbin waits until just before closing time of both the flower shop and cafe. Normally, he would’ve sent Gyuvin home by now, eager to have less prying eyes around, but the afternoon rush had been bigger and the shop was busier than either of them had expected. Hence why Gyuvin is still here.
Said stringbean of a boy stares at Hanbin with wide eyes when he reappears from the back where he had ditched his apron. “What-chu doing, Hanbin-hyung?”
“Um,” says Hanbin, evasively. He flashes Gyuvin his most winning smile, the one that presses his whisker dimples into the sides of his cheeks and makes his eyes extra round and shiny. “Can you just watch the shop for a few minutes? I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” Gyuvin nods. “You can count on me, hyung.”
The plan is as follows— see, a handful of the shops on this street are connected at the back by a long alleyway. Technically, you cannot go into the alleyway without reasonable cause, such as pickups or deliveries, since you can wander right into a neighbouring shop this way. A bit of give and take. Hanbin would like to argue that this is a very reasonable cause. The quest for information and truth is too important right now.
Heart hammering in his throat, Hanbin sneaks out of his own backdoor and into the alley. It’s quiet, which is unusual for the time but lucky for him, and so Hanbin sneaks past his own door and towards the door directly next to that. He is well aware that these doors also act as the fire doors, and that they are not allowed to be locked as long as there are people inside the building. Biting down on his lip as he slowly lowers the handle of the door, Hanbin crosses the threshold, then closes the door behind him again. He tries to be casual, as if what he isn’t doing right now isn’t completely illegal.
What he hadn’t expected is for the backdoor in the alleyway to lead directly into Star Eyes’ kitchen. Or for all of the workers to be there as well. Hanbin sneaks inside and immediately comes to a pause, wide eyes making contact with the back of Jiwoong’s head where the three cafe employees are clustered around the large island counter space in the middle of the kitchen.
And it is Jiwoong, right? Hanbin would recognise that handsome head from the other side of the street, despite the fact that he hasn’t really met the other man yet, and has only had brief, almost forgettable interactions with him. Except that below the line where his hair meets his neck, pink and green tufts seem to stick out of his skin. Hanbin swallows and trails his gaze down to where two appendages seem to phase right through Jiwoong’s clothes at the shoulderblades. It is then that Hanbin realises those things aren’t tufts of fur or anything, but small feathers. If Hanbin would have to make a guess about those appendages, he’d say that those were hummingbird wings. But that’s ridiculous, right? Jiwoong is a man.
Right?
Next is Ricky, whose blond hair would cause him to stand out even in a crowd of people. He doesn’t have bird wings, but two pairs of fuzzy, almost triangular appendages. Moth wings, Hanbin knows. Specifically luna moth wings. They shiver when Ricky shifts to say something to Hao, as if they are actually a part of him, and not something Hanbin has dreamed up in a manic break.
Hao himself . . . Hao himself is hovering nearly half a metre in the air, gossamer wings not unlike a dragonfly’s protruding from his back. They are gorgeous and also very unreal, like unreal in a way that they shouldn’t be real, and Hanbin feels the world around him closing in, a dizzy rush to the head as things start all making sense really fast. He swallows, his throat suddenly very dry, and tries to grab onto one of the worktops to steady himself, only for his hands to meet empty air. Everything is suddenly too much and not enough. The tiniest of whimpers slips from Hanbin’s mouth, causing the heads of the cafe workers to snap towards him.
“Oh shit,” Ricky says, and if that isn’t just the most astute statement Hanbin has heard in his entire life.
Wow, Hanbin realises. I knew that I wasn’t going crazy.
And with that final thought, Hanbin, like the idiot that he is, ungracefully passes out.
--
Hanbin swims back into consciousness slowly.
The first thing he notices is the bright light pouring down overhead, which makes his head swim, so he immediately jams his eyes closed again. The second thing he notices is that he is cradled in someone’s lap or arms instead of on the cold ground, the back of his head pillowed against something plush rather than the cold tiles of the floor. The third thing, and something not wholly unimportant, is that the people around him seem to not have realised that he has woken up.
He thinks he remembers flashes of a conversation, but can’t really place the words. I don’t have any experience with humans! — Well, neither do I, your Highness! What do you want me to do? — We have to take care of him. Hao, perhaps, and Jiwoong?
Deciding to table all of that for now, Hanbin focuses on much more important matters instead.
“Holy shit,” is the first thing out of his mouth when he is finally able to distinguish up from down, dizziness petered out into something more manageable. He blinks, narrows his eyes at the angel cradling him in his lap. “Did I just faint?”
“It appears so,” says the angel—no, Hao. He sounds relieved about something.
Hanbin purses his lips, ruminating that information for a moment. “Sick,” he decides at last. “I’ve never done that before.”
At that moment, the backdoor to the bakery bursts open again, and silhouetted against the fading light of the falling evening are Ricky and Gyuvin, who are holding hands, for some reason. Though Ricky appears unruffled, Gyuvin is panting, as if he’d run here from the shop next door. When his face settles on Hanbin, Gyuvin lets out a loud wail and drops to his knees next to him, creating in all ways the illusion that Hanbin is actually dying.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Hanbin says, before Gyuvin can say anything. He quickly sits up out of Hao’s lap, giving Gyuvin a small smile, as if nothing is wrong. The petals of a flower crunch underneath his hand when he steadies himself, but he brushes it away.
Gyuvin lets out a little sniffle of a sob. “I was so worried, hyung!” he says, big palm almost completely covering Hanbin’s face as he pats Hanbin’s cheek in an attempt to soothe him. “When Ricky came to the shop to tell me that you’d fainted, I expected the worst.”
“You don’t need to worry. See, I’m all good.” Hanbin gestures down at his own body. “No harm done.”
“Sorry, Hanbin-ssi,” Ricky says, shuffling his feet sheepishly. “We kind of panicked when you fainted like that, so we decided to bring Gyuvin to make sure that there wasn’t anything we were missing. Or something we had to know.”
Hanbin nods and turns back to Gyuvin. “Well, as you can see I am completely fine, my puppy. It’s already quite late—why don’t you go and have dinner somewhere? Just send hyung the receipt afterwards, and he will pay you back for it.”
“What about you?” Gyuvin asks, immediately.
“I’ll just stay here for a bit,” Hanbin says, attempting to be reassuring. “But you can absolutely go, Little Bin. I just have to talk to Hao-hyung about something.”
Next to him, Hao inhales sharply, but doesn’t protest.
Gyuvin’s face does that thing where his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse forward, clearly concerned. “Are you sure, hyung?” he wheedles—and just bless that boy and his big heart. “It was quite a scare you gave me just now.”
“I’m sure,” Hanbin says, allowing Gyuvin to help him to his feet again. “And I bet Hao-hyung could make me a tea that magically cures this silly bump on my head—” He makes sure to put heavy emphasis on the word to show the cafe employees that he knows and that he is aware, “—and I’ll be right as rain in no time.” Tilting his head to the side, Hanbin looks Gyuvin in the eyes. “It must’ve been very scary for you as well. Why don’t you go somewhere with Ricky, and he can help calm you down.”
Behind Gyuvin, Ricky’s eyes widen into five-hundred won coins. He shoots Hanbin a grateful look, which Hanbin receives with a nod that translates to, You owe me.
The two younger boys shuffle away after a last worried look from Gyuvin to Hanbin, which Hanbin notices, but chooses not to respond to. Instead, he turns to the two cafe workers left and raises one eyebrow.
“So,” he hums. “I guess an explanation is in order.”
Hao sends Jiwoong a long look, and the two older men seem to communicate without words for a moment. Then Jiwoong huffs, slightly peeved, and ducks his head at Hao. “I’ll be close,” he says, and Hanbin does not have to imagine very hard to know that that is a warning too. But Jiwoong’s eyes and mouth are warm and friendly when he ducks past Hanbin out of the kitchen, so Hanbin does not know who Jiwoong’s warning is meant for.
“Well.” Hao sighs, gesturing for Hanbin to take a seat at one of the stools surrounding the middle counter. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”
“Let’s,” Hanbin echoes, and sits down as Hao had instructed.
For a brief moment, Hao seems to just look at Hanbin, an unreadable expression on his face. Then he circles around the counter so that they are facing each other directly. He overlaps his hands on the table top in front of him, colourful lights seeming to spark between his fingers—lighting up so briefly that Hanbin might think he was imagining them if he wasn’t looking for them specifically.
“Do you remember,” Hao starts, “when I told you that I have a close bond with autumn roses?”
Hanbin nods, staying silent.
“Well, I wasn’t lying.” Hao smiles, his eyes faraway. “I was born from an autumn rose, actually. Just like all other pixies, I was born from a flower blooming for the first time. I guess you could say that we take the concept of birth flowers more literally.”
With a spinning head, Hanbin swallows. “A pixie?”
Hao claps his hands together, sparks flying and burning brightly, and Hanbin closes his eyes on reflex. When he blinks them open again, Hao is holding out a plastic cup with a whorling dark liquid, ice cubes lightly clinking together. It is an iced americano if Hanbin has ever seen one, and he takes the cup after only a miniscule, but suspended moment of hesitation.
The sound that falls from Hanbin’s lips when he takes a swig from the coffee, again, is something wholly instinctive. He looks up at Hao. “What did you actually put into it?”
“Coffee, water,” Hao lists. “Warmth and feelings of comfort. I don’t want to stress you out too much.”
It’s not that Hanbin is stressed per say, but his mind is just spinning trying to keep up with all of the information that is currently being presented to him. First of all—he had definitely been right. Hao and his friends have been hiding something. Secondly, Hanbin could have never expected that they would be hiding something quite like this. No suspicious and organised crime-aligned activities, but something magical. Something fantastical. Hao is a pixie with actual wings that allow him to fly, and so are his co-workers, probably.
Oh god. Hanbin clutches the table again, trying not to pass out again. He blinks and runs his tongue along his bottom lip, a few neurons at the back of his brain firing when he notices how Hao’s dark eyes follow the movement. “Um, so if you are a pixie born from a flower, what are you doing here, running a cafe in Seoul?”
Hao actually laughs out loud at that, his head tipping back in his delight. The pale line of his bared throat is very pretty. When Hao speaks again, though, his face and voice are serious. “I wanted to prove myself to my father,” he says. “You could say that I am from the family of one of the four royal courts of the realm where pixies are born—the Autumn Court. My father wants me to fall in line, just like all of his other sons, and follow the rules he has set out for us. But that isn’t enough for me. I wanted to prove that pixies could be more than just tricksters that only interact with humans to cause trouble and chaos. I wanted to show that we could be more.”
“So, you opened a cafe,” Hanbin surmises.
“I did,” says Hao, smiling faintly. “I found the space here on sale by accident, and I started brainstorming by myself about the ways this place could be transformed so that I could interact with lots of different humans in different ways. Once I got the idea of the cafe, it wouldn’t let me go anymore. Jiwoong-hyung, born from an apple blossom, begrudgingly followed me, but as my personal guard, he really had no choice. He’s really grown to love humans and interacting with them.”
“And Ricky?” Hanbin can’t help but ask, curiously.
Hao huffs out a laugh. “He is one of my oldest friends, the youngest of the princes of the Winter Court, born from a snow drop. He followed me out here and said that I couldn’t be having all of the fun by myself. I think he originally came here just to cause mischief, with the added benefit that he technically doesn’t have to listen to me or Jiwoong-hyung like he would have to listen to his mother. By now, though, I think he actually enjoys working at the cafe.”
“So, the three of you are all pixies,” says Hanbin. “This cafe is run by pixies.”
Eyes soft, Hao ducks his head. “We fill our drinks and pastries with emotions and ideas—joy, warmth, friendship. A golden sunrise, the clouds parting after rain. This is nothing intrusive, and doesn’t force the customer to feel anything, doesn’t harm them in any way. It’s just something that could possibly make them feel happy, even if just for a moment. We add it to show that our magic can also be used in a positive way.”
Like a flash, Hanbin remembers the conversation he’s had previously with Ricky. I haven’t really figured out how to fold in the childhood dreams and the sunsets as well as Hao-hyung does it. I’m still learning how to do that, so it’s not perfect yet. Back then, it had been something he’d found weird, but decided not to follow up on. By now, it all starts making a lot of sense. A giggle bursts from his mouth, and when Hao looks at him curiously, he just waves his hand.
“And the woman from a few days before?” Hanbin asks, when he’s gathered himself again, tilting his head to the side. “Is she a potential pixie co-worker too?”
“Yuqi-noona?” Hao chuckles wryly, his lips pressing together. “She is my fiancé.”
Oh. Oh.
Hanbin’s world comes to a screeching halt, and he can only blink at Hao, stunned. He could’ve sworn that Hao had been flirting with him before, but perhaps—
“We aren’t in love, or anything,” Hao quickly adds, the corners of his lips twitching, as if he can read Hanbin’s mind. “She’s one of the princesses of the Winter Court, so our parents tied us together in that way. But she has a girlfriend, and I have no interest in women that way. We hope that a positive result here will prove to our parents that a marriage isn’t the only way to be successful.” Something like yearning crosses his face. “I’ve only been here in the human world for a short time, but I really like it here. I don’t want to go back just yet.”
“This is all crazy,” says Hanbin, shaking his head. “But perhaps I am the crazy one, because I actually do believe you.”
In response, Hao’s dragonfly wings flutter into existence for a moment, and they are an actual vision. Hanbin freezes in place looking at them, something hot and bright bursting in his chest. He probably is staring at those wings a bit too hard, but he can’t bring himself to look away,
“So,” Hao says, turning his face away with a blush gracing his cheeks. “What will you do now?”
“Now?” Hanbin doesn’t have to think about it too long, grinning at Hao. “Now, I guess I will have to come in more often to use that delightful neighbour discount. I have to catch up quite a bit if I want to try all of your drinks.”
Hao’s eyes sparkle. “It would be my delight to serve them all to you.”
--
Hanbin’s friends-slash-coworkers come to the completely wrong conclusion.
“Holy shit, hyung!” gasps Gunwook, when he comes in the following morning. “Did you finally kiss and make up with Hao-hyung? Are you dating now? Is he our stepfather?”
Eyebrows furrowing, Hanbin lowers the cup of coffee from where he was thoughtlessly playing with the straw. He looks down at it, then looks back up to Gunwook, who has the most start-struck expression on his face. Hanbin sighs. “It’s just coffee, Wook-ah . . .”
“You called him the enemy!” Gunwook protests. “We aren’t even direct competitors. And now you’re drinking his coffee?” He freezes for a beat, then walks up to Hanbin so that he can narrow his eyes in Hanbin’s face. “Wait, Kimgyu told me that you passed out yesterday. Does that have something to do with it? Did you hit your head and wake up as a stranger? Are you even my Hanbin-hyung?”
“One question at a time, please,” says Hanbin, flicking Gunwook’s forehead with his fingers.
The younger guy jerks away with a howl, rubbing his face with a pout. “Nevermind, you are definitely my cruel hyung.”
Hanbin rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, my little Wook-ie. And to answer your questions, or at least try to—yes, I did pass out. No, it’s nothing serious. Me and Hao-hyung just had a real nice conversation afterwards, and he cleared up some of the doubts that I had.” He takes a sip of the coffee again, grinning around the straw. “And you know I can’t say no when I am offered delicious free drinks.”
I don’t believe a word you say, broadcasts the dubious look on Gunwook’s face. Probably because Hanbin has been very good at saying no to free drinks until today. “You are very weird, Hanbin-hyung,” he says, slowly. He makes a thoughtful noise. “I guess love expresses itself differently for everyone.”
At those words, Hanbin nearly chokes on his spit. “What did you just say?”
“I said that love expresses itself—”
“No, yeah,” says Hanbin, strangled. “I heard you the first time.”
Gunwook’s eyebrows do a very impressive dance above his expressive eyes. He’s probably trying to figure Hanbin out. But unless he is able to read Hanbin’s mind and help Hanbin figure out what is going on up there, he won’t get very far just looking at his face. Hanbin just smiles sunnily at the younger boy as they remain wrapped in the world’s weirdest stand-off.
Lucky for Hanbin, Gunwook is and has always been a good boy. When Hanbin tells him to get changed and get ready for the day, he does, though not without one last suspicious look in Hanbin’s direction.
The rest of the day passes slowly, familiarly. Hanbin sees Jiwoong when he is shuffling around some of the dried bouquets in the pots outside. The older man is wearing a bright red scarf to battle the autumn chill that has settled across the city, and holds up his hand in a greeting when Hanbin waves at him. Ricky peers in through the window another time, nose and hands flattened to the glass, and beams at Hanbin when they make eye contact. Hanbin will have to ask him later how his quote-unquote date with Gyuvin went, but Ricky is called away before he can walk over. He leaves no stained handprints on the glass. Gunwook makes the most curious, interested noise when he spots that interaction.
Hanbin does not comment on it, and focuses instead on making his bouquets. There must have been a mistake when he ordered the current delivery of flowers—it feels like he has an unlimited supply of autumn roses. He just shrugs and adds them to the preprepared bouquets he puts at the front of the shop.
Sadly, Hanbin’s plight does not end when he gets home.
By now, he is unsurprised to find Matthew and Taerae on his couch, their legs tangled together, hands reaching for the massive bowl of popcorn Matthew is balancing in his lap at exactly the same time. They perk up when Hanbin kicks the door closed behind him with a long sigh, twin expressions of delight on their faces.
“You two again.”
“The exhibitionist neighbours were evicted,” says Taerae, with a shrug. “We originally weren’t going to come. But then Gunwook told us that he found you drinking Hao-hyung’s coffee without being forced to do it, so clearly we had to come and investigate the matter ourselves.”
“Oh my god!” groans Hanbin. “It’s coffee!” He pauses. “Also, I thought Gunwook was a good boy. Why is he gossiping about me?”
“You mean he cares about you and wants to see you happy?” Matthew says. “How terrible.”
Hanbin points at him accusingly. “That is not only what is going on and you know that as well! You guys are too obsessed with my love life, which is completely empty at the moment. There’s nothing! Nada! I’m getting free coffee, and that’s all there is to it.” He huffs and starts shuffling towards his room to change and then probably droop back and beg them for food like a kicked puppy. Whatever, he knows they will have his back.
“Denial is a river in Tunisia!” Matthew calls to his retreating back.
“What the fuck?” Hanbin hears Taerae’s bewildered voice, just before the door to his bedroom closes behind him. “No, it’s not.”
By the time Hanbin returns from his shower, freshly washed and pampered, Matthew and Taerae have already put in the order for some delicious half-and-half chicken. Hanbin stretches out on the couch next to them, finishing up the last of the bowl of popcorn and licking the salt kernels from his fingers.
Taerae bumps his shoulder against Hanbin’s. “You know we just care about you, hyung, right? We just want you to be happy.”
“I know,” Hanbin says, giving him a soft smile. “I do appreciate that.”
“And please tell us if you actually get annoyed,” adds Matthew, giving Hanbin his best wounded-fox eyes. “We joke and jest, but we don’t want to push it too far. If you like Hao-hyung, that’s okay—and if you don’t, that’s fine by us too!”
Hanbin bites his lip, conflicted. “It’s not that . . .” The words trail off in a mumble.
But they don’t go unnoticed by either Matthew or Taerae. If they had dog ears, Hanbin knows for sure that they would be perking up right now. Two pairs of intrigued eyes turn towards him, eerily reflecting the light of the lamps scattered around the room.
“What did you say, hyung?” Matthew asks.
“Um,” says Hanbin, and despite the fact that he is sitting in the corner of the couch and could technically escape, he feels very trapped at the moment. He lets out a long sigh, then starts speaking very fast, trying to cram as many words into one breath as possible. “It’s not like I don’t like Hao-hyung, okay? It’s just that I was so busy with trying to find out what was going on that I didn’t allow myself to even think that it could ever possibly lead to something. Now that I’ve figured it out, though, an opportunity has opened up that I didn’t even think existed, and it scares me.”
Eyes glittering, Taerae leans towards him. “You figured what out?”
“Nothing!” squeaks Hanbin, and he’s sure that the blush spilling down from his cheeks to his neck clearly broadcasts that he is lying. When Taerae gives him a dubious look, he quickly adds, “Nothing I can tell you without talking to Hao-hyung first, at least.”
Matthew makes a small sound. “It’s not the mafia, though, right?”
“No, no!” Hanbin shakes his head. “Nothing like that, I promise.”
The two of them still look unconvinced, but there isn’t much that Hanbin can say that isn’t going to implicate Hao in some way. And though they hadn’t spoken it out loud, Hanbin knows there’s an implicit understanding that Hanbin isn’t going to just expose his biggest secret to his friends, no matter how much he does trust Matthew and Taerae.
“Anyway!” says Matthew loudly, in an obvious attempt to break the pensive mood that had settled across the room. “You do look more relaxed now that you’ve ‘figured it out’, or whatever. I guess the next step would be a good, thorough fuck, and you’ll be right as rain again.”
Hanbin squawks. “Matthew!”
Taerae laughs so hard he cries.
--
The sun sets early, now that autumn holds the city firmly in its grasp. Hanbin watches the golden light spill into the shop through the large windows at the front as he folds greenery between flowers, humming to himself as he runs his thumb along the stems to check for bumps or uneven patches. Every bouquet, after all, is a work of art full of Hanbin’s heart, and he won’t settle for anything that isn’t as perfect and balanced as he can possibly make it. Each flower is chosen with care, not only to tell a story by itself but also to form a whole, just like how a choreographer chooses every dance move to have exactly the right impact. At the end, he ties together the stems with a piece of twine, and finishes the bouquet with a sheet of soft orange tissue paper and a golden bow. Hanbin places the stems in the bucket of water and pats the tops of the flowers gently, to thank them for a job well done.
Above the door, the bell rings, signaling an arrival. Hanbin stands up from where he’d been crouched next to his flowers and stretches, a pleased sound falling from his lips as his back cracks satisfyingly in a couple places. He should really get back into doing yoga again, or he’ll start to resemble a turtle, with its head popping awkwardly out of its shell.
“Were you talking to those flowers?” a teasing voice calls, before Hanbin can turn around.
He spins to face the newcomer with a shrug, a small smile playing around his lips. “Why not? You’ll never know if a little pixie might be born from one of them.”
Hao laughs delightedly at that, his head tipping back to show off the attractive line of his throat. “Hate to break it to you, but only magical flowers give birth to pixies. Though it would be lovely to think that a flower here might also receive so much love that it would spontaneously turn a bit magical too.”
“At the very least, I should thank my flowers for a job well done,” Hanbin says, feeling how an embarrassed flush spreads across his cheeks. “They are my way of life, after all.”
The look that softens Hao’s eyes at those words is so overwhelming that Hanbin has to look away. He clears his throat, the tips of his ears no doubt as red as his heart by now. “Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t come to bother me just to talk about my flowers, Mr. Autumn Rose.”
“Right as always, neighbour Hanbin.” Hao grins, his eyes glinting, and reveals the hands that he’d been awkwardly holding behind his back. In his hand, he is holding two of the ceramic cups from Star Eyes, the ones they serve the drinks in for the customers that choose to sit in the cafe to consume their drinks. “I have some new drinks that I am thinking of adding to the menu. Neighbour benefit means you get to try them first.”
Hanbin feels his heart stutter in his chest, his gaze probably softening noticeably. “That is very kind of you, hyung.”
The first drink Hao gives Hanbin is some kind of dark tea, packed with a string of red berries, a cinnamon stick and sharp cloves. It smells sharply of autumn closing down on the year and curling around the city like a wet, grey cat. Hanbin tastes the roar of the hearth and the warmth of a scarf wrapped around his neck when he takes a sip, his eyes fluttering closed as a soft, pleased sound falls from his lips.
“It’s very good, hyung,” he declares, once he can talk around the heat in his chest. When he looks at Hao, he doesn’t think he quite imagines the hunger in the other’s gaze. He smacks his lips. “What will you call it?”
That earns him a shrug. “Believe it or not, it’s Jiwoong-hyung who comes up with the ridiculous name puns. I’ll run it by him later on.”
Somehow, that tidbit of information doesn’t surprise Hanbin in the least, but the deadpan look Hao sends him causes him to burst out in delighted laughter. “He’s an interesting character for sure,” he says. “The girls that come to buy flowers here after school always gossip about him. In hindsight it is no wonder that all of you are so pretty.”
Hao leans forward, his eyes sparkling. “You think I’m pretty, neighbour Hanbin?”
“Pretty annoying, if anything,” Hanbin grumbles, and holds out his hands for the second mug. This one contains a rich hot cocoa topped with a generous amount of whipped cream. It must have been Hao’s magic that makes the drink be exactly the right temperature, and Hanbin lets out a sigh as the chocolate drink pools on his tongue. It is not too sweet and fragrant, hinting at the presence of some kind of spice underneath that Hanbin cannot completely place.
“What do you think?” asks Hao, when Hanbin takes another long sip from the drink.
Hanbin grins. “They’re both delicious, hyung,” he says, honestly. “You could easily put both of these on your menu, and I’m sure that your customers would love them.” He stills as Hao suddenly leans forward, deft thumb reaching out to brush against the side of Hanbin’s mouth, where some of the whipped cream must have stained him.
Leaning back, Hao sucks his thumb into his mouth with a wet sound, humming to himself. He grins at Hanbin around the digit, not once breaking the electric eye contact between them. “That’s good to hear.”
“Ah.” Hanbin can only stare dumbly as a small, involuntary noise falls from his lips. Heart pounding in his throat, he swallows.
For a moment, it feels as if Hao is going to say something weighted, but he bites on his lip at the last moment. When he smiles at Hanbin, the heavy atmosphere pops like a bubble, and Hanbin is able to calm himself down again.
“I value your input a lot, neighbour Hanbin,” Hao says, at last. “Thank you for being my guinea pig.”
“With pleasure,” says Hanbin, and he finds that he means those words completely.
Hao wavers for a moment, but duty seems to win in the end, though he seems regretful about it. “I have to go back to the shop. Can’t leave Ricky for too long by himself. He never quite knows how to deal with all of the . . . attention.”
“Of course.” Hanbin ducks his head. “Well, I won’t be far if you ever need somebody to try out some new menu items again.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
It is only when Hao has left again that Hanbin allows the giddy grin that he had been biting down on for so long to bloom on his face. He casts his face to the side, remembering Hao’s expressive face and the way his voice had sounded so sweet when his lips had curled around Hanbin’s name. Then he freezes, his eyes narrowing. He could’ve sworn that he had added the last of the autumn roses to one of his previous bouquets. In fact, when he goes back to that bunch, he counts exactly the twenty the customer had requested him to add, and not a single flower less.
So why is there one extra autumn rose stalk tucked amongst the freesias that are waiting to be added to another bouquet, its heart blooming open sweetly like it is mocking Hanbin? He crouches down next to the bucket, grabbing the flower and twirling it between his fingers. None of the thorns snag his skin.
Very curious. At least he has a good idea about who to discuss the case of the mysterious materialising flowers with.
--
The flowers don’t come up in conversation the next few times Hanbin sees Hao. This is not despite a lack of trying on Hanbin’s end. It is just the case that Hao is very distracting. And now that Hanbin is allowing himself to get closer to the other, he keeps learning more and more tidbits of information about the older man, little bits of what makes Hao Hao. Beyond only thinking it’s endearing, Hanbin’s heart seems to stutter in his chest whenever Hao reveals another tidbit about himself that makes him more real as a person than the vague ghost Hanbin was chasing before.
For instance, he finds out that Hao cannot cook. Hao reveals this by accident, when Hanbin is at Star Eyes to cash in on Hao’s promise of at least a free drink per working day, and they somehow end up talking about Hanbin’s university days, which is something that fascinates him greatly. Hanbin had been reminiscing about when he was in college and trying to cook for a veritable army of hungry students in his tiny dorm room when Hao accidentally blurts out that he’s never cooked before. Perhaps this is something Hanbin should’ve expected, seeing as Hao is, you know, a whole magical creature, but at the same time—
“What do you mean you don’t know how to cook?” Hanbin can’t stop himself from giggling. “You work in a cafe!”
Harrumphing, Hao stomps his foot on the ground. “Don’t laugh at me, Hanbin-ah,” he says, trying to sound stern. “First of all, I work in a cafe. What you do in a cafe is not the same as cooking. Also, I don’t know if you remember—” He lowers his voice to a harsh whisper, seeing as they’re still in the cafe, and anyone could walk in at any time, “—but I make my drinks magically. You know, without actually making them with my hands. So, no, I don’t know how to cook.”
Nodding sagely, Hanbin plays with the straw of the drink Hao just handed him. “We’ll have to remedy that, then. I’m an okay cook, if a bit unconventional, so I’m sure that I could teach you a thing or two.”
“I will await that.”
Three days later, Hanbin locks up In Bloom after sending Gyuvin home earlier during the day, and then takes Hao to his apartment. His prayers to the gods that Matthew and Taerae won’t be there are actually answered, so it’s just him and Hao when they push through Hanbin’s door. His apartment is a reflection of himself, with his K-POP collection scattered around the place and his sizable collection of houseplants crammed onto every available surface. Hao rids himself of his coat and shoes, and then makes a beeline for the rose Hanbin found on his pillow all those weeks ago, which stands untouched despite the time passing.
“Beautiful rose,” Hao remarks, softly running his hand along the petals. “And so vibrant still, too.”
Hanbin’s mouth is dry when he looks at Hao, cast in a warm yellow glow from the lamps scattered around the apartment. “Yeah,” he finally says, swallowing.
Under Hanbin’s careful tutelage, Hao makes the worst soup Hanbin has ever had in his entire life. He can’t deny Hao when the other asks him to taste it, though, not when his eyes are so sparkly and his mouth is so pink and pouty.
“Room for improvement,” he wheezes around a mouthful of numbing spice and vinegar. “But not bad, for a first-timer.”
That brightens Hao considerably. When he takes a bite himself, he bears the taste with dignity and an unmoved face, but Hanbin cannot tell whether this is because of the fact that he is magical or whether he might just have an interesting palate. After they’ve both had a few mouthfuls of the soup and a lot of the pork and rice Hanbin whips up for them, they migrate to the living room with cups of tea that Hao brewed with a flick of his fingers. Hao spreads out across the couch like he owns it, his sweater dipping down low to reveal the sharp cut of his collarbones, and his cheekbones are flushed with a pink glow. Hanbin could drown in the sight of him and the touch of their thighs pressed together on the cushion even though there’s enough space for them to sit completely separately.
“I’m really glad that you decided to be my friend after all,” Hao says, the corners of his mouth curling up.
Hanbin draws in on himself. “I’m sorry about being stupid before. And distant. I just really wanted to figure out what was going on with you, and I think I got a bit carried away . . .”
“Curiosity is normal,” says Hao with a shrug of his shoulders. “And I must admit that I enjoyed our little cat and mouse game. You were just so adorably determined—so I did try to lure you in, draw you closer to the truth. If it had to be anyone that figured it out, I didn’t mind it being you.”
“Perhaps it was inevitable after all,” Hanbin murmurs.
The light of the lamps reflects in Hao’s eyes and makes them look like they’re doubled in size. “Perhaps.” He burrows into the couch, steam wafting up from his tea and blurring the edges of his face. “I’m glad that it was here that I decided to settle.”
“How long will you stay?” The question aches something fiercely in Hanbin’s chest, like he’d rather not know the answer, but he asks it anyway.
Hao looks at him for a long time, and for the first time, Hanbin thinks he cannot read the other’s expression at all. “Hard to say,” he says, at last, a sigh slipping past his lips. “I’ll stay for as long as my father allows me to be away, but this stupid engagement—” He breaks himself off to snort through his nose, a frustrated sound. “Yuqi-noona is one of my best friends, so it wouldn’t have been the worst, if I didn’t know that marriage would both make us miserable.”
“Why get married in the first place?” Hanbin can’t stop himself from asking, kicking himself internally at the pained look in Hao’s eyes that follows the words.
A shrug. “Connections, contacts, agreements. The different courts like each other enough, but nothing solidifies a cooperation like a contract through marriage. Pixies are known to be tricksters, so nothing is as flawless as a tied knot.”
“Quite interesting that there are some things that seem to overlap in the magical world and the human one like this,” Hanbin says, with a sad smile.
“You’ll soon find that there aren’t that many differences between you and I.”
“Except that I was born from my mother, and you were actually born from a magical flower—and perhaps also a baby’s first laugh, or something like that,” grumbles Hanbin, reaching over to poke Hao in the thigh with a socked foot.
Ticklish, Hao curls away from him. “I am not Tinkerbell, Hanbin-ah.”
Hanbin sends him a sour look. “Oh, so you do know what she is.”
“Yah, just because I didn’t know about Dokkaebi as a concept and as that one television show doesn’t mean that I am completely ignorant to everything in this world!”
“We literally speak Korean, hyung. Dokkaebi is like our national heritage.” Hanbin presses his lips together, then turns towards the television and gives a sharp nod. “That’s it. We’re having a marathon of the first few episodes tonight. And you can’t wiggle your way out of it.”
“I wasn’t planning to!” Hao protests, cheeks red but smile pleased.
They settle onto the couch next to each other, Hanbin focusing on setting up the episodes on his television while Hao prepares a plate of delicious pastries to share, refilling their mugs with a twist of his hand. When the first episode plays, Hanbin focuses partially on the actual show—intrigued by the plot despite the fact that he has seen the show so many times he could probably dream it—and partially on the way Hao reacts to the scenes as they play out: the soft gasps that fall from his lips when it is exciting, the way his dark eyebrows furrow when he disagrees with something a character does. At the end of the episode, Hanbin sends Hao a questioning look, and Hao just nods at him, so Hanbin queues up the next.
“What do you like so much about it?” Hao asks, after they’ve finished a handful of episodes. It is way too deep in the night for how early they both have to get out of bed tomorrow. “The show, I mean.”
A bit helpless, Hanbin shrugs. “I like the concept of someone existing just for me.”
Even though he wants to, Hanbin does not offer Hao to stay the night, figuring that it is a bit too early for that step. He walks Hao to the door, steps slow and purposeful, and manages to reel back his flinch when Hao throws his arms around Hanbin’s neck and hugs him tightly. “Thank you so much for inviting me tonight, Hanbin-ah,” he murmurs into Hanbin’s neck. “I had a lot of fun.”
“Get home safe,” Hanbin tells him, flushing all the way down to his toes. “And text me when you get home.”
“I will.”
Hanbin stays in the doorway and watches Hao walk away down the corridor until he disappears around the corner towards the elevators. The ache about Hao’s looming marriage and his inevitable disappearance from this world is quiet in his chest.
--
The stolen moments in between are when Hanbin gets to know Hao most. He tells Hanbin about his family, big and dysfunctional and loving as they are, and about his friends in the pixie realm. He tells about his dynamics with Ricky and Jiwoong, and why it were exactly these two that followed him into the human dimension. He tells Hanbin about how he likes human foods—and especially durians, for some reason—and the little rituals humans have, like bowing or shaking hands or hugging. And he shows Hanbin how he creates his drinks, adding blue skies and warm memories and rainbows after rainstorms. Every little new fact or tidbit exposes Hanbin to a side of Hao he has imagined he would get to know, but endear the older man to him more and more.
In turn, Hanbin tells Hao about himself: his real family: mum, dad, younger sister on track to becoming a national climbing champion—and his chosen family: Matthew and Taerae, and the kids that work in the store. Hao laughs so hard he stumbles sideways when Hanbin tells him about the times Matthew and Taerae have shown up on his couch, and seems positively endeared by Yujin’s intelligence and Gunwook’s perseverance. Since Gyuvin is now wholly dating Ricky, having gone from zero to one hundred ten in what seems to be no time at all, it makes sense Hao is a bit more wary around him, but Hanbin gives it about two weeks before he’ll start melting underneath Gyuvin’s puppy eyes.
Like that, slowly, they grow closer and closer, until Hanbin can’t believe that there ever was a time where he didn’t know Hao this intimately; that there was ever a time that he didn’t know exactly what would make Hao break out into delighted peels of laughter, or what would make him quiet down in consideration.
And how fast Hanbin’s heart beats whenever he is around Hao cannot be denied either. It is almost pathetic how much that stupid muscle seems to speed up as soon as Hanbin is around the older man. He comforts himself with the thought that Hao’s eyes always seem to linger for a bit longer than is conventional, and his touches are never as casual as could be. Even though that marriage-that-shall-not-be-named looms, Hanbin cannot deny that there is something that grows between the two of them. Like a flower blooming.
That’s the thing about flowers: even if nobody looks at them, and no one says their existence out loud, if they have enough nutrients and water and sunlight, they will grow anyway.
--
In the midst of all of his excitement, Hanbin had forgotten about a very important event. Matthew reminds him of it when he is coming into the shop to help Hanbin out with the rush, all of his other part-timers indisposed for the day. “Don’t forget about the Halloween party this weekend at our house!” he declares, slapping a hand down on the counter. “You promised before that you would come, so don’t back out now, hyung.”
“Oh,” says Hanbin, his mouth forming a circle of surprise. “That’s right.”
Matthew smirks at him, his eyes sharp. “Why don’t you also invite the neighbours?” he says, with a jerk of his head towards the cafe. “With our weird neighbours gone, Taerae and I have decided to go all out. I’m sure they would appreciate seeing how we party.”
“You’re so annoying,” Hanbin huffs, but he decides to pop by Star Eyes at the end of the day anyway, flipping his middle finger at Matthew when he looks at Hanbin a bit too knowingly.
Ricky is in the front of the shop. He brightens when he spots Hanbin, his lips pulling back to show his small, cat-like teeth when he smiles. Gyuvin has gushed all about the date—dates, now, actually—that Ricky took him on, in Seongsu and Apgujeong and Mullae, and Hanbin knows that the two of them are absolutely gone for each other, in the way that little kittens and puppies get when they tangle together. Gunwook thinks that a lovesick Gyuvin is absolutely ridiculous, but Hanbin sees how he softens when the topic is brought up, so he can’t hate it too much.
“Neighbour Hanbin!” says Ricky, waving at Hanbin. “Hao-hyung is in the back. I’ll just tell him to come out here for you.” He doesn’t even give Hanbin the time to respond before he is ducking through the door into the kitchen. Hanbin wonders what Hao is even doing there. As far as he knows, no actual baking takes place there.
It doesn’t take more than two minutes for Ricky to return, now with both Hao and Jiwoong in tow. Hao brightens when he spots Hanbin, which causes Jiwoong to chuckle, a knowing look on his handsome face as he glances between Hao and Hanbin.
For some reason, that makes Hanbin feel a little bit hot behind the ears. He clears his throat and turns to Hao.
“Good afternoon, Hanbin-ah,” Hao greets, politely ducking his head. He glances at the clock, and adds, “Evening, actually.” He tilts his head to the side, a curious look on his face. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“It’s nothing serious,” says Hanbin. He hesitates, then decides to push on. “Matthew and his boyfriend are hosting a Halloween party this Saturday. They’ve told me to extend the invitation to you and yours.” He inclines his head at Jiwoong, who is doing an awful job at making it seem like he is not listening in, and Ricky, who is not even trying to pretend he isn’t eavesdropping.
“Oooh,” says Ricky, perking up excitedly. And then, “What is Halloween?”
Hao waves his hand at the younger boy, an endeared look in his eyes. “A human custom. I saw it in a film I watched.” He turns to Hanbin. “We’d love to come, but none of us have ever been to a human party before. Is there anything we should know?”
“Normally not,” Hanbin says. “But we do Halloween a bit differently. Generally, we dress up like fantasy creatures like witches or vampires and go to the party like that. I’m pretty sure that it originated as a Celtic tradition. It is believed that on this night—Halloween or Samhain or whatever you want to call it—the line between our world and the spirit would be thin enough for spirits to cross over. Dressing up as one of them meant that you would be able to blend in. Over time, the holiday changed and became more commodified, but it is still a fun night to dress up.”
“Interesting.” Hao’s gaze is warm. “Well, me and the kids will definitely be there. And dressed up.” He winks. “I’m sure we could come up with a costume.”
“I am older than you, brat,” says Jiwoong, scowling.
Ricky bounces on the soles of his feet. “I want to go as a cat!” he announces, brightly.
Hanbin leaves the cafe with a spring in his step.
--
That Saturday, Hanbin makes it to Matthew and Taerae’s apartment about half an hour before the party is slated to start, and lets himself in with the door code. An eye for an eye, or whatever, especially since he walks in on Matthew and Taerae making out on the couch, most of the party decorations strung up around the room. When Hanbin enters, they jump away with matching yelps, Taerae quickly pulling down his shirt from where Matthew’s wandering hands had rucked it up.
“Hyung!” Matthew says. “What are you doing here?” He looks Hanbin up and down, raises his eyebrows. “Damn, looking to pull tonight?”
Hanbin looks down at himself. For the occasion, he slipped into a white, woolen sweater, cropped so that it sits just above his love handles. Below that, he is wearing a pair of white trousers, tight around the thighs and flaring at his calves. A fluffy, circular tail sits just above his tailbone, held into place by perhaps too many pins. The look is completed by a headband with a pair of bunny ears poking through his messy curls. He looks back up at Matthew and just grins, which causes Matthew in turn to whistle at him.
“You’re early,” grumbles Taerae, his mouth still kiss-swollen. He jumps up and shakes himself out, then beckons Hanbin to the kitchen with a jerk of his head. “Might as well get some use out of you, then.”
Grinning, Hanbin raises one eyebrow, and taps the younger on the ankle with the front of his sneaker. “What do you think I’m here for?”
Over the next hour, Hanbin helps set up the drinks and the themed snacks in the kitchen, greeting guests as they slowly start trickling inside. He greets Keita and Jeonghyeon and Junghyun from their time in university, Woongki and JL from Matthew’s dance studio, and Jaehyun and Sohee from the bar down the street. No Hao or consorts as of yet, but Hanbin is not too worried. If Hao’s been watching films with parties in them, he’ll have internalised that it’s not cool to be on time for things like this.
After Hanbin finishes the last bits of the preparations in between flitting amongst his friends, he gets roped into a game of drunk Twister—that he immediately loses, since he’s never been the most flexible—and a game of beer pong—that he does marginally better at, even to his own surprise. He dances a bit, twirls Jaehyun and Euijoo around on the dance floor, and does another shot with a persistent Matthew. Hanbin doesn’t really allow himself to get loose like this, but it’s the Halloween party and Matthew and Taerae’s apartment. Some things just call for a pleasant buzz—and the hangover that will undoubtedly follow in the morning. It’s not like Hanbin is really drunk either, but the edges of his vision are just pleasantly hazy.
When Hao arrives, it is like Hanbin can feel it, as if the entire apartment shifts and ripples just to accommodate for Hao’s presence. The crowd parting to reveal him are like waves retreating from the shore, and then Hanbin sees him.
Hao looks ethereal. His wings are out for everyone to see, and the loosely draped top he wears shimmers underneath the strobe lights, like the body of an actual dragonfly underneath the sun. He’s dyed his hair, Hanbin realises with a heavy swallow, the strands now blond with colourful highlights falling down from the crown of his hair. And his top is open at the back to give the illusion that the wings actually need the space to sit on his shoulder blades—which Hanbin knows to be not the case from when he saw them in the back of the cafe—and it gives Hanbin tantalising flashes of muscles rolling beneath freckled skin when Hao twists to say something to Ricky, a small grin curling around his plush lips.
A heavy body crashes into Hanbin, jostling him from his open-mouthed staring, and Hanbin looks over his shoulder to see Taerae stare at him with mischief in his eyes. “Go get him, tiger!” he crows, and then shoves Hanbin forward with a well-aimed push between his shoulder blades.
Hanbin stumbles like the idiot that he is, scrambling at the last moment to gather his footing, and manages just before he does something dramatic like actually stumbling into Hao. When he looks up, though, he does notice how close he is to Hao now, his heart jumping in his throat at the proximity. Flanking Hao on both sides, Ricky and Jiwoong both look ethereal too, both also with their wings flickering behind them (though Ricky also has a pair of cat ears settled on top of his golden hair), but Hanbin really only has eyes for one person.
Hao is already looking back at him, is the thing, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What a droopy bunny we have here,” he teases, but his voice is fond.
“Ah, hyung!” huffs Hanbin, reaching up to run his hands through his hair and snagging on the bunny ears. Whatever he was going to say next dies on his tongue as Hao steadies the headband with firm fingers, nails scratching along the sensitive top of Hanbin’s scalp as he pulls his hand back.
Reading the mood, Ricky and Jiwoong make themselves scarce, the former yelling something about Gyuvin, though Hanbin barely pays attention to it. “You look good,” he tells Hao, his voice wobbling as he fights to keep his tone from becoming too reverent.
A small, pleased spark blooms in Hao’s eyes. “So do you, Bin-ah.” He tilts his head to the side. “Or should I call you bun?”
Hanbin huffs. “As opposed to some people, this is just a costume.”
“But a fitting one indeed.” Hao allows Hanbin to lead him to the kitchen for drinks, though he whispers in Hanbin’s ear that human alcohol doesn’t really have any impact on pixies. Still, he allows Hanbin to pour them a drink, plastic cups with garish Halloween designs knocking together as they make a toast.
“Gonbae!” says Hanbin, sending Hao a wink, and then throws the thing back in one long swallow.
When he lowers the cup again, Hao is watching him with dark eyes.
“We should dance,” Hao declares, finishing his own drink delicately and then curling his hand around Hanbin’s wrist. “I saw it in all of the films about parties that I watched. People dance—together, right? I want to do that.”
Unable to say no to anything Hao demands of him, Hanbin guides Hao to the living room, which has been designated as the dance floor. The music is a static current in the air, one Hanbin feels all the way to his bones, and the crush of eager, intoxicated bodies around them sends him careening into Hao.
Hao doesn’t really react to their sudden proximity other than a pointed eyebrow raise in Hanbin’s direction, and Hanbin ducks his head at the unspoken question. He’s a great dancer, and he knows that he is, his body easily setting a rhythm for Hao to follow. And Hao is good too, better than Hanbin had expected, and a delighted laugh bubbles from his lips as Hao matches him stride for stride. When Hanbin steadies Hao with a hand on his hip as the older man stumbles from someone bumping into him, he does not protest the touch.
Hanbin keeps his hand on Hao’s waist as they dance, their heads bent together in such a way that Hanbin swears he can feel Hao’s breath feather across the side of his face, fluttering his fringe. Heat stirs inside his stomach, and his heart feels two sizes too big, pounding against his ribcage in a desperate bid to break free.
“I like it here,” whispers Hao, the lights washing across him in pink, orange, and purple. The eye contact between them is electric. “I like being with you.”
Then don’t leave, Hanbin thinks wildly, a bit desperate. Don’t leave me.
But that is not fair to say to Hao, not when he doesn’t have much say in the matter, so he just ducks his head, leans even closer. “I really like that you’re here too, hyung. I’m glad it was the shop space next to mine that caught your attention, leading you to me.”
When Hanbin pulls back again, Hao’s smile is so bright it could rival the sun.
--
The following week, Hanbin feels jittery. The morning after he stumbled back from the party and had collapsed into his bed face-first—Kim Gyuvin style—he’d woken up not to one, but four autumn roses on the pillow around his head. It had slammed him right into the present again, running reverent fingers along the petals and feeling the flowers shiver beneath his touch.
He’d taken the flowers to work that Monday, intent on confronting Hao and asking him what they meant. That would only be possible, however, if he would be actually able to catch Hao for long enough to actually talk to him. The bright energy from Saturday night seems to have dulled out into something dark almost overnight. Hao slips in and out of Hanbin’s sight, always on his way somewhere. Hanbin hovers at the window of In Bloom, trying to find a moment where he can catch Hao in his steps and ask him to explain. The autumn roses, which he has put in one of the glass vases at the back of the shop, seem to notice his tension, their leaves drooping sadly.
What has changed? Hanbin wishes he knew. He wishes Hao would explain.
When they make eye contact through the window, one time, while Hao is hurrying down the street with a large scarf wrapped around his neck, there is no denying the deep sadness that Hanbin reads in his gaze. The spark that had so often lit up his eyes has extinguished, replaced by pinched brows and a deep-set tiredness. Hao is the first to break their eye contact, looking at the ground. From where Hanbin is standing, he can see a muscle tense in Hao’s jaw.
Hao continues walking until he disappears from Hanbin’s sight.
A sense of foreboding settles deep in Hanbin’s stomach. It seems his time has run out.
--
When Hanbin walks into Star Eyes and notices the relative emptiness, the cardboard boxes stacked up near the wall, he is both surprised and not. Still, a questioning sound falls from his lips before he can stop himself, and it causes Hao to freeze in place where he is standing at the counter.
“Hanbin-ah—” Hao sighs, a soft sound. He turns to look over his shoulder. “I thought you would be gone by now.”
Irrational anger fills Hanbin’s chest at those words, and he steps forward, circling around the counter and closing the distance at a speed that surprises the both of them. “Were you going to sneak away without me knowing?”
“It would’ve been easier.” Hao’s voice is so empty of feeling that Hanbin knows he must be suppressing each and every emotion. “For both of us.”
“You are a coward,” says Hanbin, accusatory. He jabs Hao in the solar plexus to emphasise the words, one sharp tap for every syllable. “Sneaking in here and making a place for yourself, then leaving just as quietly when it pleases you?”
Hao looks up at him, and Hanbin realises his eyes are bleak and empty for once. “What will you have me do then, Hanbin-ah? What other option is there for us?”
“Just don’t leave,” pleads Hanbin. Don’t leave me. “Do this for me.” It is only when those words tear from his mouth that Hanbin dimly realises that he is crying. He tries to hide it, biting on his bottom lip to muffle the sounds, but his shaking shoulders must betray him.
Heartbreak blooms fragile in Hao’s eyes. With gentle hands, he grabs Hanbin by the shoulders and turns him towards him, making a soft noise when Hanbin presses into the touch. “I can’t stay, Hanbin-ah. My duty calls me.”
“But I only just got you,” Hanbin says. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Hanbin hadn’t even known that pixies could cry until now, but Hao, Ricky, and Jiwoong have proven time and time again that they are more human than they appear at first sight, so this isn’t something surprising to him. Tears drop like crystals, and even when he is crying, Hao is still so beautiful. When he speaks, here is an undeniable sadness in his tone, a resignation that Hanbin wishes he could erase. “I wish it were that easy. I went to my father directly after that Saturday night, that party. I went back multiple times to beg him to let me stay. He did not listen, and his word is law.”
The corners of Hao’s mouth quirk, but this is not a joyful smile either. “Believe me when I say that I’ve done my best to get away from this fate, but perhaps some things just don’t have an out.”
“You tried?” Hanbin asks, his voice soft. He tilts his head to the side. “Did you?”
A bit helplessly, Hao gestures at everything and nothing around him. “What do you think I’ve been doing the last few days, Hanbin-ah? I’ve been going back and forth to my father just to convince him that this is something that is something I have to do. That this is where I belong. He does not seem to agree.”
“But you do,” says Hanbin, stubborn. “You do belong here.” He pauses, hesitates. “With me.”
The emotion that blooms in Hao’s eyes is so fragile that Hanbin actually feels breathless just looking at it. He laughs, a broken sound. “How far we’ve come, neighbour Hanbin. But spare me your words, no matter how much they are true. Let me live in the blissful ignorance that you do not want me as much as I want you. That may be the only way that I’ll be able to survive.”
Hanbin kisses him.
He doesn’t even know that he is going to do it until it happens, until his hands curl around Hao’s waist and Hao’s lips part underneath his with a breathy noise. But they’d been standing so close to each other, their hearts beating in sync for so long already, that he is leaning forward and capturing Hao’s mouth with his own before the thought of kissing him even crosses his mind. Hao stills after that first sound, and Hanbin thinks he is going to pull away. But then Hao surges forward, his own hands coming up to grab Hanbin by the shoulders again, and he deepens the kiss.
For a moment frozen in time, all of Hanbin is surrounded by Hao on every side—his smell, his taste, his crystal tears, the feeling of his slender fingers pressing into Hanbin’s skin through the fabric of his sweater. Sighing softly, Hanbin slips his tongue between Hao’s lips, who grants him access without a wink of protest. Hao tastes like autumn blooms and wood-fired smoke, a heady combination that overrides Hanbin’s capacity for intelligent thought. He walks Hao backwards until Hao’s lower back meets the counter, holding him in place like that.
If Hanbin could only keep kissing Hao forever, he is sure that Hao would have no other choice but to stay with him.
Something crinkles underneath Hanbin’s hand where he is still holding on to Hao’s waist, thumbing across the knob of Hao’s hipbone, and he breaks from the kiss only to frown down. Sitting in the palm of his hand, already rid of the thorns that seek to sink into his skin, is a singular autumn rose. The flower has already blossomed open to reveal the soft, gorgeous heart.
“Hanbin-ah!” gasps Hao, reaching forward to take the flower from him and gently thumbing across the petals. “Did you—did you bring this with you?”
A sardonic smile tugs at Hanbin’s lips and he shrugs, covering Hao’s hand on the flower with his own. “They’ve been appearing all around me as of late, and they never die. I was going to ask you about them, but I got distracted.”
“This—!” Hao steps to the side so that he can put a bit of space between their bodies, running his free hand through his hair. He shakes his head, fingers tightening around the autumn rose. “I have to go.”
“But hyung!” Hanbin protests, stumbling after Hao as he pulls away, his movements fueled by a sort of eager desperation that Hanbin does not really know how to place. “Don’t just go like this!”
Hao is already jogging towards the front of the shop, holding the flower up to Hanbin like it should mean something to him. “Just wait here, Hanbin-ah. I promise.” Promise what? Before Hanbin can ask that, Hao is already pulling open the door, and stepping through it.
Letting out a sound of protest, Hanbin scrambles after Hao, his breath coming out in a plume of smoke as he steps into the street. He looks to the left and right, seeing the shape of Hao’s body as he turns into the alleyway between the buildings, and dashing forward with a short burst of speed. By the time he makes it to the street, though, he knows that he is already too late.
The alleyway is empty. Hao is gone.
--
Surprisingly, it is Jiwoong who watches over Star Eyes in Hao’s absence. Hanbin had spotted him putting up signs on the windows of the cafe, speaking of a remodeling that would see the shop closed for the foreseeable future. That had lit a fuse of hope in Hanbin’s heart that he doesn’t really know how to explain.
It almost seems like a way to cover up something that should’ve been a complete shop closing before, but isn’t anymore.
What does it mean, though? What is going on?
“Oh my god, hyung!” groans Gyuvin at the third time Hanbin has bumped into one of the shop’s tables after he’d been looking at Jiwoong crossing in front of In Bloom, and subsequently hadn’t been paying attention where he had been going. “Just go and talk to him! Sort out whatever you need to sort out.”
Hanbin opens his mouth to protest, but Gyuvin walks over and grabs him by the shoulders, turning him around and marching him towards the door. He ignores Hanbin’s half-hearted protests, and shoves him outside. Before Hanbin knows what is going on, Gyuvin has closed the door behind him, and then locks it for good measure. When Hanbin spins around, Gyuvin looks way too satisfied with himself.
“You can’t do this!” Hanbin calls, knocking on the glass door. “I am your boss! Also, it’s working hours!”
“Better talk to him soon then,” says Gyuvin, unmoved.
It is fruitless to try and get back in as Gyuvin has already turned away from him. So Hanbin droops towards Star Eyes. He knows that Jiwoong is in, having spotted him slip inside the cafe. He works up the courage to knock on the window, peering inside, and it only takes a handful of seconds for Jiwoong’s head to pop up from behind the counter. A knowing smile appears on the older man’s face when their eyes meet, and before Hanbin can talk himself out of whatever the fuck he’s doing right now, Jiwoong is already walking over and opening the door for him.
“Neighbour Hanbin,” he says, pleasantly, ushering Hanbin inside. “What can I do for you?”
“I—just.” Hanbin runs a hand through his hair, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Hao-hyung told me that you protect him, and that is why you followed him. But he is gone, and you are here. I’m curious what that means.”
Jiwoong’s smile does not waver. “I take care of Hao and Hao’s. He asked me to watch the cafe and he asked me to watch over you.”
Hanbin’s heart beats in his mouth. “And that’s all?” he asks, his voice a croak.
“Not all,” Jiwoong admits. “But there are some things that Hao would be very sad about if I told them to you before he could have a chance to explain.” He tilts his head, thoughtfully, and then continues, “I’ll tell you this, though: every pixie only has one person that blooms flowers for them.”
Heat rushes to Hanbin’s face, and he feels how he blushes. “I grow . . . flowers for Hao?”
“Well,” says Jiwoong, and he rolls his eyes, though he manages to do so fondly. “It seems our dearest prince really didn’t explain anything. But yes, Hanbin, you do. There is a bit of latent magic in every human. Under the right conditions, it can be activated. There’s a thin line between fate and coincidence, and exactly at that intersection, magic may light up and give a nudge in the right direction. I think it’s up to you to decide what that means.”
“I see,” says Hanbin, who honestly is only more confused than he was before this.
“Just wait for now,” Jiwoong says, seeming to notice Hanbin’s hesitation. “Hao has a lot of affairs that he has to straighten out, but he’ll come back here as soon as he can. I promise you that.”
Hanbin looks around the cafe. “And Star Eyes?”
“What do you mean?” Jiwoong shrugs and smirks, the corner of his mouth lifting. “We’re only renovating. Didn’t you see the signs outside?”
A huff falls from Hanbin’s lips before he can stop himself, and he sends Jiwoong a flat glare. “Alright then. But you better tell me as soon as Hao gets back.”
“I won’t have to tell you,” says Jiwoong, with a soft smile. “The first person he’ll come to see is you.”
--
Life continues, somehow. Autumn crawls closer to winter. Business at the flower shop always changes with the seasons, and this year is no different. Hanbin makes bouquets and sells vases and ceramic pots, jokes around with Gunwook, Gyuvin, and Yujin, and still finds Matthew and Taerae on his couch despite the fact that they have no real reason to invade his space as much anymore. Hanbin knows that they are worried about him, which he appreciates. And he might say that he thinks they are annoying, but he is well aware that he could change the code to his front door at any moment and lock them out like that. He doesn’t.
Every day that he is at the flower shop, he peers inside Star Eyes for a moment, just to see if anything has changed. Or not exactly that—because things are changing. Apparently Jiwoong is taking the time he has graciously been granted to actually make some improvements around the cafe, something that cements its position as a permanent fixture in the street. The girls that come to buy Hanbin’s flowers talk about it: how pretty the cafe will become, how gorgeous Jiwoong looks as he is hauling pieces of furniture around the cafe (which they can only see if they’re peering in through the windows, just as Hanbin has been doing), and how glad they are when the cafe will reopen soon, with undoubtedly new items on the menu.
What does done imply? Will the cafe open again before Hao comes back? With the speed Jiwoong is working at, magical help notwithstanding, it almost looks like it.
Hanbin ruminates about these questions as he works on his last bouquet of the day, having sent Yujin home hours ago. It had been a quiet Tuesday, the sleet keeping away casual passerbys. Of course, Hanbin had gotten stuck in his head making preparations for the following day, so the afternoon darkens into night before he realises what is going on.
The bell above the door rings, and Hanbin does not turn around before he calls out, “I am afraid we’re closed for the day!” He really should remember to lock the door if he’s here by himself.
A lilting voice sounds, streaked with fond humor. “Are you?”
Before Hanbin realises what he is doing, he has already dropped the clippers he is holding and is spinning around, his heart skipping a beat. It seems his brain is not playing tricks on him, because there, at the door, is Hao. His hands tucked into the pockets of his long brown coat, his scarf curled around his neck, and his eyes bright and warm as he looks back at Hanbin.
“Hao-hyung,” whispers Hanbin, like a sound too loud might shatter the illusion.
“I’m sorry it’s taken so long,” Hao says, meeting Hanbin’s gaze head on, even if Hanbin sees the faint tremble in his shoulders. “But I am here now.”
As if he is possessed, Hanbin walks forward, only stopping until there is only a sliver of space between them, until he can feel Hao’s breath wash against the side of his face. It is only then that Hanbin realises that Hao is actually here, and he isn’t just some illusion that Hanbin’s brain had cooked up in a fit of desperation. “You are here,” he says, echoing Hao’s words. “You are back?”
“Back for good,” says Hao. “I promise.”
“Where did you go?” Hanbin can’t keep the mournful note out of his voice, his chest aching.
Hao withdraws his hand from his coat and flips it over to reveal his palm to Hanbin. Cupped there is the flower Hao had taken with him when they had kissed, when it had appeared like it was meant to be there. “I had to bring this to my father,” Hao says, his eyelashes fluttering. “Irrefutable evidence of what you mean to me. This isn’t something that can be denied.”
Hanbin sucks in a deep breath, taking the flower and running a thumb along the petals. Then he puts it on the workbench next to him and turns to Hao again. “Jiwoong-hyung told me that every pixie only has one person that blooms flowers for them.”
“Of course he told you a little bit.” Hao laughs, amused.
Annoyed, Hanbin flushes. “Only because you refused to tell me anything!”
“I may have gotten a bit too excited,” says Hao, apologetic. “But I knew that my dad could never force me to marry anyone if I had found the person that blooms my flowers. It is very rare for pixies to meet their other halves, but when they do, there is nothing that can stand between them. There were a lot of loose ends I had to tie up, though, and I had to travel to Yuqi’s court to present my flower to her father as well. When they saw it, the engagement was immediately broken off. I guess that there is a romantic inside of every pixie, which isn’t rare if you consider that our magic literally creates a soulmate for us.”
Dizzy, Hanbin repeats the word. “Soulmate.”
Hao searches his face with his eyes. “Is that scary for you?” he asks, his voice small.
“No—I,” says Hanbin, and then sighs, frustrated. “I’ve had some time to think about it since Jiwoong-hyung told me about it. And I thought it would be something like this. He said it so reverently, it had to be something.” He smiles at Hao. “I thought about it, what I would feel if you really did leave to marry someone else. I think that would’ve been the saddest I could possibly be.”
“Hanbin . . .” whispers Hao, and he says Hanbin’s name like a prayer.
“I told you, didn’t I?’ Hanbin continues. “I begged you to stay with me. I guess I had always known that you were mine just as I was yours.” He laughs. “I just didn’t know what the flowers meant. After all, I am a florist. I just thought I was taking them home and forgetting about it. Until it became something I couldn’t ignore anymore.”
Smiling, Hao curls his fingers around Hanbin’s bicep. “We were both trying so hard to run towards one another that we ended up running away from each other again.”
“But now you are here, right? You aren’t going anywhere anymore?”
Hao cups Hanbin’s face between his hands, his gaze softer than Hanbin has ever seen. “You bloom flowers for me, Hanbin. I’m not letting you go ever again.”
A singular, dry sob of relief bursts from Hanbin’s chest. “You better not.”
It is then that Hao finally kisses him. The kiss is different from before. When Hanbin had kissed Hao for the first time, he had been fueled by desperation, by the belief that that could have been the last time he could have Hao like that. This time, Hao kisses Hanbin like he is promising him that this will be the first kiss of many—he kisses Hanbin like he is someone special to him, someone he is blessed to be able to hold like this.
The rest of his body runs cold, but Hao’s mouth is warm where it presses against Hanbin’s, and his lips are soft like the petals of the roses Hanbin blooms for him. There is no urgency here, just the slow parting of Hao’s lips when Hanbin softly runs his tongue against their seam. He still tastes like autumn, but now, the taste is more gentle, something warm that settles low in Hanbin’s chest.
“Kind of cliche,” Hanbin laughs, when they pull back, panting against each other’s skin. “A pixie born from a flower and a florist.”
“It makes sense,” says Hao, fondly. “Nobody would know me as well as you do.”
Hanbin reaches up to cover Hao’s hand with his own where it is still cradling his face. He squeezes gently. “I will spend the rest of my life figuring you out, Hao-hyung,” he murmurs. “That would be my honour.”
“Neighbour Hanbin,” says Hao, with bright eyes. “Won’t you take me home?”
--
Nothing happens that night. Or, well—not nothing.
Hanbin takes Hao to his apartment and makes them a generous serving of rice and tofu stew. Hao eats it like he’s been starving, gasping at the taste, and demanding that Hanbin teaches him how to make this. Hanbin laughs, amused, and tells him there’s no reason to know it if Hanbin is here to make it for him. At that, Hao pouts, but the illusion is ruined by the grain of rice stuck to his plump bottom lip.
Afterwards, they curl up on the couch, and they talk about everything that happened while Hao was gone. It’s comfortable. Hao talks about his journeys in the pixie realm, and Hanbin talks about the flower shop and Jiwoong’s quest.
“The cafe was meant to be a temporary thing at best,” Hao says, eyes gleaming. “It makes sense that we would have to do some remodelling if we want to stay for a longer time.”
Hanbin presses his pout against Hao’s jawline, sulking. “You better stay forever.”
Hao shivers at the touch. “Forever,” he agrees, voice breathy.
When they get ready for bed together, there are a lot of long looks and stolen touches, but this does not culminate into something frisky. Hanbin gives Hao a shirt and a pair of shorts—both which end up fitting perfectly—and they curl in bed together like two commas, their fingers laced together between their bodies. They fall asleep like that, but when Hanbin wakes up in the middle of the night to relieve himself, he wakes up with Hao spread out on top of him completely, loud snores falling from his lips. He manages to extract himself without waking Hao up, and when he returns, Hao nestles right up to him again. Like he is meant to fit exactly there.
The following morning, though, nothing does turn into something. In Bloom is closed, and Hao says that he doesn’t have to be at the cafe either. So Hanbin takes his time pinning him into the mattress and pressing kisses to every part of Hao’s skin he can possibly reach. Which ends up being a whole stretch of pale, freckled skin, especially when Hao pushes him back so that he can ruck his borrowed shirt over his head and reveal more of himself to Hanbin’s greedy eyes.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” Hanbin says, voice hoarse as he looks down at Hao. “Can’t believe someone as pretty as you exists.”
“I’m here, I’m real,” says Hao, curling his arm around Hanbin’s shoulders and drawing him closer so that they’re chest to chest. His lips are pink and swollen from all the kisses Hanbin left there, pink tongue poking out to sweep along them. “And I’m yours.”
With a growl, Hanbin leans forward to connect their mouths again, his teeth sinking in Hao’s plump bottom lip. Hao keens against him, a heady sound, and Hanbin takes that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into Hao’s mouth. That evokes another, shuddery noise from Hao, his fingers clutching Hanbin’s shoulders, nails biting even through the thin material of Hanbin’s sleep shirt. Heat blooms wherever Hao touches him, and Hanbin can almost feel the flowers as they grow petals below his hands.
By the time Hanbin lowers Hao against the bed so that he can perch above him, the blankets around them are covered in vibrant roses. Hanbin sits back on his heels so that he can rid himself of his shirt as well, dangling it from the tips of his fingers, and then dives back in so that he can scrape his teeth along the sharp dip of Hao’s collarbone.
“Needy,” laughs Hao, but the laugh peters off into a choked down groan when Hanbin bites down with intent. “Ah, Hanbin-ah!”
“What?” Hanbin extracts his mouth for long enough to look up at Hao faux-innocently, and then laves his tongue across the mark he just made. Hao’s fingers curl through the short strands of hair at the back of Hanbin’s head, as if he needs something to anchor himself to, and his breathing comes heavy, shuddering. It makes something pleased pool at the bottom of Hanbin’s stomach, molten heat running down his spine. He cannot stop his mouth from curving up into a grin where he presses it against Hao’s shoulder.
A grumble falls from Hao’s lips, hips kicking up against Hanbin’s thigh and pressing the evidence of his pleasure there. “You are the most self-satisfied human I have ever met.”
Hanbin rolls his eyes, amused. “I am one of the few humans you’ve really met, hyung.”
“Yeah,” says Hao, petulant, though he misses the heat to really drive it home, his body still moving against Hanbin’s. “Like I said—annoying.”
Instead of paying attention to that, Hanbin focuses on stripping them both of their final layers. Now that Hao has shown him very clearly that they’re both on the same page here with regards to where this morning is going, there is no need for Hanbin to keep up the pretense anymore. If Hao wants to feel good, Hanbin is going to make sure that he feels so.
Though Hanbin had never really fantasised or even thought about it, it would make sense that Hao’s dick is as pretty as the rest of him. When Hao raises his hips so that Hanbin can peel down his shorts and pants, his dick flops against his stomach, flushed and hot. It is long and thick enough, already leaking a small puddle against his stomach. Hanbin’s mouth waters just staring at it, and at that, Hao covers his eyes with a shy hand.
“Don’t just sit there and watch,” whines Hao, weakly pushing against Hanbin’s shoulder.
Hanbin grins, leaning down to press his lips and teeth against Hao’s hip, not a bite but isn’t quite not a bite either. “But you are so pretty, hyungie,” he says. “Can’t blame a guy for looking.”
Annoyed, Hao glares up at him through narrowed eyes. The expression immediately shifts into something slack-mouthed when Hanbin leans down to and swallows his dick in one movement. He hums around the length, a small noise, and the vibration that produces tears a choked-off whine from Hao’s throat. He looks positively winded when he looks down at Hanbin, white teeth sinking into his plush bottom lip, his hands fluttering around as he looks for a place to put them.
“It’s okay,” says Hanbin, briefly pulling off to catch his breath. “You can put your hands in my hair, if you want.”
“Don’t frown if I pull,” Hao says, haughtily tangling his fingers in the strands.
Sending him a wink, Hanbin presses the flat of his tongue against the head of Hao’s dick, welcoming the tightening of Hao’s hands in his hair as a response. “I hope you will,” he says. “That just means I am doing my job well.”
When it comes to giving blow jobs, Hanbin has never been a natural talent, or anything. But he’s had a string of failed relationships and one night stands, so he knows what he is good at, how to make his partners sing. And Hao is nothing if not a satisfying open book, groaning and whining and twitching when Hanbin traces the vein running along the underside of Hao’s dick with his tongue. He’s hot and salt in Hanbin’s mouth, pre-come flooding on his tongue. Just before Hanbin is rewarded with the main prize, though, Hao pulls him off his dick with a determined glint in his eyes.
Hanbin blinks up at Hao, licking his lips. “You don’t want to come?”
Hooking his foot behind Hanbin’s back, Hao pulls him closer. “Not until you’re inside of me,” he says, his voice rough as if he’d been the one taking Hanbin into his throat. With how much noise he’s made, that doesn’t feel too far off.
“Alright,” says Hanbin, swallowing. He presses a kiss to Hao’s hipbone. “I won’t say no to that.”
It doesn’t take Hanbin long to open Hao up on his fingers, spurred on by Hao’s very vocal demands. The pixie bears down on Hanbin’s fingers like he was made to take them, like his body was shaped for Hanbin to fit inside—and perhaps he was, if they are the magical equivalent of soulmates. At the thought, Hanbin strokes the pads of his fingers across Hao’s prostate, and the sensation makes Hao shudder like he’s been electrocuted, sweat beading down his forehead.
“Please, Hanbin-ah,” Hao sobs. “I’m ready.”
Hao knows himself the best, and Hanbin has been three fingers deep for a while now, his pinky pushing teasingly against the rim every now and then but not actually slipping inside with the rest. “Alright,” Hanbin says, and pulls himself free. He wipes his fingers on the blankets next to Hao’s hip, and while that isn’t the most hygienic, he can’t bring himself to care about that right now.
Luckily for the both of them, Hanbin keeps a stash of condoms in the drawer of his bedside table, next to the lube. He takes one out and rolls it around his length, hissing at the touch. As focused as he had been on making Hao feel good, this is the first time tonight that he’s touched himself with intent, and dragging his palm across his dick to lube himself up is a special kind of torture. It makes his hips kick forward, a loud whimper punched out of him, and he has to clench his jaw to calm himself down.
But Hao is waiting for him, breathing harshly below Hanbin, and that allows him to pull his hand back. He kneels between Hao’s spread legs, steadying his dick with a fleeting touch, and looks down at his lover, a question in his eyes.
“You can,” says Hao, his eyes warm and wide. “I’m waiting for you, Hanbin-ah.”
The permission is enough for Hanbin to start lining himself up and nudging himself inside. Hao grimaces at the stretch, even though he was impatient, so Hanbin peppers kisses across the bridge of his nose and the swell of his cheeks to distract him. And then Hao pouts, because Hanbin isn’t kissing his lips, so he shifts onto his elbows so that he can connect their mouths, ignoring the crinkle of petals he feels below his skin.
Finally, Hao gives him permission to move with a small nod and a soft whisper of, “Hanbin-ah.” So Hanbin does, slowly pulling out and then driving himself forward again. When Hao shivers and gasps, his eyes fluttering briefly, he knows he’s hit gold. He shifts his hips so that he will hit Hao’s prostate every third or fourth thrust, delighting in the very whiny sounds that pulls from Hao’s throat.
It’s easy to get lost in it, is the thing. Hao is warm and soft and molds perfectly around Hanbin, like he was made to pour into every one of Hanbin’s gaps. He talks softly, when Hanbin coaxes him, babbling about how good it feels and how well Hanbin is doing and oh, please Hanbin-ah, right there. And despite his hazy gaze, Hao seems committed to keeping his eyes open the entire time, entire stars and universes hiding in his dark brown irises, like he’ll actually die if he doesn’t look at Hanbin while Hanbin is making love to him.
Because call Hanbin cheesy, but that is what it is—they’re making love.
“Does it feel good, hyung?” he asks, when Hao curls his legs around Hanbin’s waist and urges him to go faster, deeper. “Am I making you feel good?”
“The best,” says Hao, nodding, his sweat-matted fringe stuck to the top of his forehead. He’s never looked more attractive, glowing with something more than sweat. Possibly, it is the magic. Hanbin wonders what it’ll take to get the wings to come out, if he can make Hao feel so good that he has no control over whether they appear or not.
He’ll have to try another time.
“I’m glad that you found me,” Hanbin says, blinking back into the present and smiling down at Hao. “Guess I was waiting for you all of this time.”
“You were,” says Hao. He blinks, gaze soft. “I was waiting for you too.”
They come together, and it is glorious. Hanbin feels the heat racing down his spine, petals crunching underneath his knees, and the scent of blooming roses fills his nose. Hao tastes like autumn and fire where Hanbin presses his mouth against the corner of Hao’s lips. It is the most intoxicating flavour Hanbin has ever experienced, and he hopes he’ll get to taste it for a long time. For the rest of his life, perhaps.
With the way Hao is looking up at him, he thinks that might be a very real possibility.
--
The day of Star Eyes’ official reopening dawns cold and dark, autumn truly having given away to winter now. Hanbin wakes to the sound of his alarm with Hao’s feet jammed between his calves and Hao’s soft snores against the side of his neck. He carefully reaches over, careful not to dislodge Hao, and turns off the noise, smiling to himself when Hao sniffles and buries himself closer to Hanbin, but doesn’t wake. In the quiet of the early morning bedroom, he takes a moment to himself to just breathe in this moment, running a gentle finger along the side of Hao’s jaw.
Apparently, the whole flower thing isn’t something that’s going to go away. But with time and practise, Hanbin can learn to control it. It’s something he’s been getting better at—not fighting to keep down the fondness, but extinguishing the fire that follows afterwards, the one that is the precursor to the flower actually appearing. He’d say he’s successful about seven out of ten times now, which is good, because Matthew and Taerae have been getting suspicious about the amount of roses Hanbin manages to keep alive around his apartment. Even if they haven’t said anything to Hanbin outright, he knows their moods and their looks well enough to make an estimation of what they’re thinking.
Whatever! When Hanbin introduced Hao to them officially, as his boyfriend, they were perfectly pleasant. As a matter of fact, they immediately started ganging up on Hanbin together. It’s not Hanbin’s fault he is magically in love with Hao. Like, literally.
Just as Hanbin runs his finger along Hao’s jawline again, the older man starts stirring beneath his touch, eyelashes fluttering and soft snores smoothing out into snuffling breaths. As Hanbin watches, his heart squeezing fondly, Hao opens his eyes to look up at him, his face shifting minutely to press into Hanbin’s touch with more intent.
“Hanbin-ah,” Hao mumbles, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I think you bloomed a flower again. It’s digging into my side.”
The pleased feeling that had risen in Hanbin’s chest stutters to a halt, and he curses as Hao shifts and tucks his hand underneath his waist. Indeed, when he retracts his fingers again, a rose bulb lies innocently in the palm of his hand.
“I’m sorry,” Hanbin murmurs. “I’ll contain myself better today.”
“You know I don’t mind,” Hao says, leaning up to press a reassuring kiss to the curve of Hanbin’s jaw. “It’s a sign of how much you like me. Why would I be upset if there was a flower?”
Hao won’t grow flowers like Hanbin does, but apparently, all of the other pixies can feel in his magic that he has found his other half. Ricky jokes that Hao feels sappy as shit—Ricky’s words—whenever he thinks about or is around Hanbin, while Jiwoong just quietly states that Hao’s magic feels happy, settled. It’s enough for Hanbin. Sometimes, when he touches Hao, he thinks he feels the electric current of Hao’s magic underneath the other’s skin.
“Well,” says Hao, plopping the flower on the nightstand and sitting up. “Shall we get ready for the day?”
“Right.” Hanbin smiles and copies him, stretching his muscles. “It is an important one, after all.”
They get ready in relative silence, dancing around each other through Hanbin’s apartment with an ease born from routine. Hao probably already spends five out of seven nights at Hanbin’s place, claiming innocently that Hanbin’s bed is more comfortable, and Hanbin thinks it won’t be long until they’ll hit seven out of seven nights. It’s not like he has known Hao for that long, but when you’re tied together like they are (which is basically pixie marriage but taken to the extreme, if he has to believe Ricky), moving in together is only a small step.
From Hanbin’s apartment, they walk to their respective shops together, their hands swinging between their bodies where they have interlaced their fingers. It is a cold winter morning, the sun still hidden behind the horizon, and the two of them are wrapped up in their big scarves. Hanbin has never felt more warm.
Hao heads for Star Eyes, and for once, Hanbin follows him. Ricky and Jiwoong are already waiting for them on the front step, and between the four of them, they make quick work of getting the shop ready for the big opening. Hanbin drags inside the buckets of small bouquets he had prepared for the opening, wrapped up in colourful ribbon with a star pattern, and they scatter them around the place: on the tables, the counter, and the shelves hung from the walls.
Before Hanbin knows it, the sun has risen and is pouring watery light into their little shopping street, beckoning people and movement. Most of the tasks have been finished, and it’s just waiting for the customers now.
“Hyung!” Gyuvin knocks on the glass, startling the two of them apart. His voice is loud enough to carry through the barrier separating them. “Are we going to open up shop or not?” Despite his words, amusement brightens his expression when he looks between the two of them.
Hanbin turns to Hao and bites his lip, hesitating. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known that he was stalling, but he really wanted to stick around and help Hao as much as possible.
With a roll of his eyes, Hao nudges him towards In Bloom. “Just go, Hanbin-ah,” he says. “I can handle myself.”
“Fine, fine.” Grumbling, Hanbin presses a last kiss against the corner of Hao’s mouth, and then another one, before leaving to join Gyuvin. He punches in the code to the front door of the flower shop and ushers the younger man inside.
Gyuvin looks at Hanbin, teasing, and Hanbin just rolls his eyes at him. “Not a word.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything!” After a pause, Gyuvin adds, “I didn’t need to.”
The two of them quickly go through the motions of opening up the store, lugging in the flowers that had been left at the front door and checking orders. The entire time, Gyuvin keeps looking at Hanbin knowingly from the corner of his eye, and Hanbin ignores him, focusing on tucking flowers together and dusting their shelves with ceramic planters.
At noon, Star Eyes has their festive reopening, and Hanbin and Gyuvin sneak to their neighbours one after another to wish their respective partners the best and receive their free drinks. Hao is busy with his customers, though, flitting between the front and the back with Ricky and Gyuvin to serve drinks and pastries to the customers. Everyone seems to be happy that Star Eyes has reopened, so Hanbin does not stick around for too long.
It is when the day is winding down that Hanbin finishes the last of his bouquets with a pleased hum and walks to the front of the shop to deposit in one of the buckets filled with water, thanking the flowers for a job well done with a small nod of his head. When he looks up again, he notices that Hao has exited Star Eyes to talk to a group of customers milling around on the front step. They are probably the last few to stick around, eager to talk to the handsome owner and hear about his business plans for the future.
Right there, Hanbin thinks he hasn’t seen anyone who has looked so much like he belongs as Hao does right now. He says something that makes all of the customers laugh into their takeaway cups, and then squats down to talk to a toddler that is reaching up for him, a strand of hair falling attractively across his browbone.
If there was still anyone who dared to claim that this is not where Hao is meant to be, Hanbin would fight them, no questions asked.
Warmth glows inside Hanbin’s hand, and he twists his palm up towards the ceiling just in time to catch the flower bulb blooming open. He curls his fingers around the stem, shaking it softly, and watches as the petals curl away from the heart. The autumn rose catches the watery light of the sun, its reddish-orange petals lighting up like they are made of fire. This is the physical proof of the fact that he was made for Hao. Hanbin thinks he won’t ever be able to like another flower as much as he does this one.
When he holds the rose up to show Hao through the glass, Hao is already looking back at him. He tilts his head to the side, a clear question and an invitation wrapped up in one.
Like he is a moth drawn to a flame, Hanbin finds himself stepping outside and walking toward Hao, ignoring the curious glances of the cafe’s visitors milling about. As always, Hao welcomes him easily, his body opening for Hanbin, like they are two halves of a whole.
The front step, where they met all of those months ago.
“Holding out well?” Hanbin asks, leaning closer so that he can press a kiss against the corner of Hao’s mouth, taking in the scent of woodsmoke and autumn rains. He reaches up and tucks the rose behind Hao’s ear, fingers pressed against the curve of Hao’s jaw.
Hao leans into the touch, his eyes sparkling and his smile so bright that the sun could never compare. “Never been better, neighbour Hanbin.” He reigns Hanbin in for an actual kiss, their mouths sliding together, and he looks satisfied when he pulls back. Something that’s probably love blooms in Hanbin’s chest, and he bites on his lip to make sure his grin doesn’t give him away. He thinks Hao feels it as well, though, if his soft eyes are anything to go by.
“Never been better.”