Chapter Text
𓇢𓆸
“The rose is considered the ultimate symbol of love in the flower world, and the legend of its meaning begins when Chloris, the goddess of flowers, finds the body of a nymph in the forest.
Saddened by its death, she turns it into a flower so beautiful that all the gods would consider it the Queen of flowers. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, was so struck by its beauty that she names it 'rose' - an anagram of her son's name, Eros.”
𓇢𓆸
“But I need a trusted adult to sign the consent form,” Gyujin stares up at him inquisitively.
Moon Baek can’t help but stare back.
An idiot. He’s raising an idiot.
He pushes his cereal away, milk sploshing- a disappointing ‘plop’- when he drops his spoon into his bowl of ridiculously sweet carbs.
Breakfast is officially ruined
His palm meets the back of the teenager’s head with a sharp thwack.
“The fuck am I then?” Realisation hits the teen much too slowly for Baek’s liking. He sighs in defeat and rubs soothing circles into his temple, which, somehow, makes his headache worse. “Just-” he sighs again. Sleep. He needs to sleep. “Just go set up, and I’ll do it for you- don’t forget to check the size of the bar and th-”
“-Sixteen gauge needle, twelve double ‘m’ bar, right?”
“Huh.” Baek’s only slightly proud. “So you’re not completely useless.”
Gyujin grins like he’s discovered the cure to cancer. And then points to his ear. “Want me to sanitise the area too?”
Baek shakes his head and waves him off as he drags himself onto the couch. A ten-minute nap sounds like heaven right now. “Nah, I’ll do it.”
He hears the younger exit his house and skip down the stairs into his studio, whistling off-tune to the song playing lowly on the speakers- a popular K-pop song that Moon Baek annoyingly finds himself nodding his head to when he’s not paying enough attention to pretend to be a hater. And mindlessly, he thinks about going on vacation- somewhere warm and far away, by a beach, drinking an endless, unhealthy amount of margaritas and mojitos, maybe a quick lay here and there- no one special (he’s terrible at the whole relationship concept), just enough to think back on, of the silhouette of a stranger with lingering fondness. And maybe a-
The slow whine of a dog breaks him from his daydream, the weight of paws against his ribs making him groan.
Hades whines again, a crescendoing howl that would make his ancestors proud.
“I’ll walk you in a bit,” Baek grumbles as he stands from his couch. He’s exhausted, and his day hasn’t even started yet. “I have to go stab a needle in Gyujin’s ear first, alright?” The dog huffs in disapproval. “Yeah, well. Fuck you too, man.”
Fucking Dobies.
-
Hades loves to push his buttons, even at his big dog age of five.
When he first got his Doberman pup at the ripe age of nine weeks, most of the dog mums and dads he used to meet on his daily walks always told him that once he passes his teenage years, he'll calm down. He'll be less of a problem child and more of the pet Moon Baek's always wanted. Once he matures, of course.
They were wrong.
So fucking wrong.
“I'm sorry,” Moon Baek bows profusely, all whilst refusing eye contact as he drags his Doberman by the collar and clips on his lead, praying the little shit would stop barking at the lady and her child.
He ignores how his fingers shake, no matter how many times he clenches them into a fist, ignores how his heartbeat thrums loudly in his ears, ignores how unsteadily his breath escapes him and tries to focus on getting out of there.
“I’m so sorry- he usually isn’t like this, I swear-”
“-You need to train the mutt- what if he hurts my child, huh?” Baek blinks at the grass, mid-bow, in surprise. He wasn’t expecting her to be so aggressive. “Keep the fucker on a leash at least,” the lady hisses at him, curling her child into her chest protectively.
Her words make him still, and for a quick second, Moon Baek considers giving Hades his bite command as he takes a glance at the woman.
Baek sees her here a few times a month - plans his five-mile runs in this direction just to watch this very stranger with her child, and sometimes, her partner, smiling and laughing happily in the park without a care. It’s strange to think that in another universe, she doesn’t abandon him. That he has a mother who’d play with him in a park.
“My dog won't bite unless I tell him to.” He just hates you. Stupidly, the kid reaches for Hades, who hasn't stopped snarling, and Baek moves fast to stand between his dog and the child. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, kid. My dog isn't happy right now.”
“I want to pet it!”
Moon Baek takes a step back, murmuring au pied, a heel command under his breath and allows the warm weight of Hades against his calf to centre him.
If his dog needs to be leashed, then so does this kid, ‘cause damn. What a brat.
“Sorry, kid. Maybe another time.” Baek murmurs as he turns and walks away with Hades close, ignoring the woman who kisses her teeth at him for denying her precious baby boy, who sounds like he’s throwing a tantrum. He doesn’t look back to check.
Perhaps it’s a good thing he was abandoned at birth- he’d hate to have grown up like this spoiled terror of a child.
Moon Baek dissociates on the walk back home. It’s the only explanation for the little memory he has of it, other than the long minutes he allowed Hades to run freely on a patch of green as he smoked a cig or two. Maybe three, but again, he doesn’t remember much.
He walks into his studio and finds Gyujin fiddling with his fresh conch ring and staring off into space, instead of prepping for the client they have in half an hour, as he should be.
The teenager mumbles something about a pretty man he saw walking by the studio, greets Hades with too much enthusiasm, and Baek, low-key, wants to drop dead because now Hades is going to have the zoomies. And even though Moon Baek is Hades’ person, his primary owner, the dog reflects the teenager’s stupidity without fail when they’re together, and Baek is left to deal with not one but two empty-headed nitwits.
“When he rips off your new piercing, don’t come crying to me,” Baek grumbles in warning when Hades puts his paws on Gyujin’s chest to sniff at his ear.
“Aww,” the younger coos, giggling when Hades’ snout digs into the hollow under his lobe. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Isn’t that right, you big baby?”
“Hades,” Baek orders sternly. “Attaque.”
Gyujin screeches behind him as Baek climbs up the stairs with heavy footsteps.
-
“He's so pretty,” Gyujin sighs wistfully as he drops his head on the metal tray with a sharp thud, boxes of tattoo cartridges bouncing in the air at his dramatics.
It’s probably the sixth time the kid has mentioned his mysterious beau this week alone.
It's only Tuesday.
Once again, he's regretting giving in to the younger's incessant pleas of taking him on as his apprentice. He’s more like a leech that drains him of his money, food and will to live.
Moon Baek doesn't lift his gaze from his thigh, focus unwavering from the purple lines of the stencil staining his skin, and the buzzing of the tattoo gun in his gloved hand.
“Sanitise the tray again. And then come finish this tattoo instead of whining like a little bitch in the corner.”
He hears the way the younger perks up in interest without even looking at him.
“Wait- really? You'll let me tattoo you?”
“Hm, should I?” The sting of the needle worsens the closer he gets to his knee. He hisses between his teeth- it's what he gets for using a short taper, though he doubts a long taper would have hurt any less. “If you fuck it up, I'm dropping your ass.”
“Yes! Final-”
“Hurry up. We open in an hour, and I want this done already.”
-
It's not bad, the tattoo. In fact, it might join his list of ‘top 10 cleanest inks on his body. Of course, he can't say that to Gyujin, lest he make that big head of his, even bigger.
But he immediately regrets the placement of said tattoo, because now he's limping around with a second skin wrapped snugly from the middle of his thigh down to the bottom of his knee, and even when he sits down to ink up his client, he has to keep his leg outstretched uncomfortably.
He's just finished a five-hour sitting- a cool blend of blackwork and lettering for a new client, his speciality- when he hears it again.
“He's so, so pretty.”
Moon Baek is sick of this kid.
With a limp, he turns to face the younger, ready to give him a good scolding, only to see him with his face squished against the door, fingers digging into the glass painfully. Dare he say, desperately.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Just look at him,” Gyujin ignores Baek and sighs like a lovestruck fool. “How can one be so-”
Swearing under his breath, Baek limps over to stand by the kid. “Who exactly are we talking ab- oh. Is that a new florist?”
The shop has been there for years, owned and run by a kind older man and his daughter, long before Moon Baek himself discovered this studio to be his.
It's the only flower shop in this ragged little town, so when it closed for a few weeks, it had inevitably caused a ruckus- not that Baek cared enough when he had his own shit to deal with.
Now that he thinks about it, though, he hasn't seen Hyeonsik or Seyoung in a long while.
He should probably check in on them to make sure they’re not dead or whatever is expected of him as their neighbour.
Baek isn’t the ideal local occupant, he knows. But he doesn’t think he’s the worst either. He turns the music down by ten pm and has trained Hades to bark quietly when indoors. He doesn’t litter (other than the odd cigarette bud), and he even holds off from swearing at the oldies and gossiping groups of aunts who stare and point at him like he’s some sort of curated public display when they catch sight of his piercings and, as they call it, demonic tattoos. It’s a good thing they haven’t caught on to his pierced tongue. Now that would send them into cardiac arrest. But in all honesty, Baek doesn't see what's so demonic about the snake that wraps around his throat or the wolf gnawing through sheepskin inked low on his calf (which only sees the light on the extremely rare days he wears shorts).
Moon Baek glances at the back of Gyujin's crush, his view obscured from where he stands watering his plants outside.
Huh.
-
“Jeongu, I think we might need to order more chrysanthemums-”
“Already?” This Jeongu yells from behind the counter somewhere, but Moon Baek is more interested in the man standing before him, blind to the tattooist's presence. “November has just started- what do you mean we're out of ‘mums?”
The man reaches up, a hand clutching onto the shelf by his head for balance as he digs a finger into the soil of a potted plant.
“We need to water these-”
Baek clears his throat, bored with being ignored. “Hi.”
The stranger startles, notepad and pen dropping to the floor as he turns abruptly, elbow knocking into the shelf, pots clattering in their place as the metal rack leans precariously.
Baek moves fast, ignoring his limp to catch the metal before it falls on the stranger, along with the many pots and plants.
One look. That’s all it takes for the taller's heart to start dancing within its cage.
“Hi,” the man replies, out of breath, glancing up at Moon Baek with wide eyes.
Fuck Gyujin. Why does he have to be right? Fuck him. He's going to drop his ass so fast he won't ever see this side of town ever again, hell- he might even drive the little shit back to his shittier foster family and call it a day because fuck him. Fuck, the little shit, fuckfuckfuck, he's going to kill him, fuck-
“Hi,” he repeats stupidly, resisting the urge to face palm as soon as the greeting escapes him.
You blithering idiot.
At least it makes the corners of the pretty man's lips tug into a small grin.
Baek moves away slowly, eyeing the rack to make sure it's balanced and sitting straight, but in all honesty, if it isn't clear, he does not want to part from this pretty stranger who smells like heaven.
“Thank you,” the pretty man says after a few intense seconds of them staring at each other.
Pretty, pretty, pretty.
“No, it's my fault for startling you.”
“It's fine- we really need to get these racks bolted down-” the man says, shaking his head to cut himself off, then blinking up at the taller one. Baek has the odd urge to yell no! No! Keep talking! Tell me all about these bolts! “What- um, what can I get for you?” The man's shoulders relax slowly as he finally bends down to pick up his notepad and pen shaped like a sprout, which- cute.
Moon Baek uses the two seconds the latter's gaze is off of him to pinch himself.
Yeah, no. He really is just this pretty.
Fuck Gyujin, actually.
“I'm Moon Baek.”
The man's head tilts in confusion, his smile dropping the tiniest bit.
Baek needs a gun to rid himself of this embarrassment and off the face of this planet.
“Hi, Moon Baek-” God, how is his voice just as angelic as his face? Has his name always sounded this divine? “Did you need some flowers? A bouquet for an occasion?”
He could listen to this man talk for hours without end.
“Uh- no- no, nothing like that. I just thought I should introduce myself.” Baek scratches at his scalp timidly. He hopes his face isn't too red. “I own the tattoo studio next door, but I've never seen you around before.”
“Oh. Right.”
He wants to hide, curl up and die in a ditch somewhere far, far away.
“Yeah.”
An awkward silence fills the small space between them, Moon Baek shuffling gracelessly as he takes in the ivory walls and colourful plants lining every shelf and sitting in every corner, as the latter just stares at him.
Fuck Gyujin to hell and back.
“Are- were you close with my dad? Or Seyoung?”
It's Baek's turn to look at the florist in question. “No,” he shakes his head. “But we do say hi to each other when we cross paths.”
“Ah. Okay.”
“Well, I guess-” he points at the doors behind him with a thumb, swaying on his feet. “I'll see you around.”
He turns on his heels, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his thin jacket, ready to run out of the shop and never interact with the pretty man ever again, only to be stopped by said pretty man.
“Give me a second.” And before Baek can ask what for, the man is lost behind his flowers.
“Huh.”
Baek startles at the new voice.
He glares at the man- Jeongu, he assumes, who looks him up and down, then disappears again.
…What?
Thankfully, the pretty man returns and distracts him easily.
Between his lithe fingers is a stem of a single white flower that he holds out for Baek, his ears tinged the cutest shade of red, his gaze shuffling between the floor and the taller's face.
“Sweet pea. It means thank you.”
He takes the flower from the man, their fingers brushing the slightest, but it is enough to send warmth all the way up his arm and straight to his heart.
“I didn't know flowers had meaning.”
“It's what makes them special,” the pretty man tells him quietly. “You can say anything you want without having to say anything at all.”
Moon Baek can agree with that sentiment.
“So this one's called sweet pea,” he spins the stem between two fingers contemplatively. “What can I call you?”
The shorter stares at him for a few long seconds, teeth digging into the pink of his lips.
Moon Baek wants to bite.
“Lee Do.”
When he makes the short walk back to his studio, Gyujin is waiting for him impatiently, pencil between his teeth and sketchbook in his hand as he spins in his chair recklessly. Offhandedly, he imagines the younger spinning so fast he chokes on the wood and drops dead.
Moon Baek has to brace himself against a wall as soon as the door slams shut behind him, hand clutching his chest as his heart races.
“I fucking told you.”
Baek glares at the smug scoff the younger throws in his direction.
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you-
𓇢𓆸
Single flower;
Initial stages of romance: In the early stages of a romantic relationship, a single flower could signify a budding or initial interest in someone. It hinted at the potential for deeper feelings to develop over time.
𓇢𓆸
Two days pass before he sees Lee Do again.
His beauty takes the breath out of him once more, but he's proud to say he does a better job of hiding it this time.
“Is this seat taken?”
Lee Do takes his time to look up from his book. “No, you can take- oh. Moon Baek-ssi.”
“No need for formality, just Baek is fine.”
With an eager grin, he places his pumpkin-spiced chai latte with five pumps of vanilla syrup, extra whipped cream and sprinkles down on the table between them, and slides out his chair with an obnoxious screech that has the latter wincing.
Baek frowns at the black tea the florist nurses.
“Really? Not even a dash of milk? How boring.”
“I wouldn’t say boring. I’m just not as… adventurous as you.”
He can’t help but chuckle at Do’s words. Adventurous. Sure.
“Want a sip?”
Lee Do takes a single glance at his drink and grimaces. “I’m good, thanks.”
This time, he truly laughs. “Ah, you’re cute.” The red blooming on the shorter man’s cheeks only makes him smile harder as he slurps up his concoction.
“‘Ninety-three?” Do nods towards his fingers wrapped around his plastic cup, quick to change the subject. “The year you were born?”
Moon Baek flips his hand around to squint at his finger tats under the light of the cafe. Damn, he needs to rework the lines.
“Mhm,” he quips in reply, dropping his hand. “It’s the first tattoo I ever did on myself.”
“Must've hurt.” Do frowns, pushing his book aside to rest his elbows on the table, drink cupped between his slender fingers.
“Of course. Whoever tells you getting inked up doesn’t hurt has a small dick. I don’t make the rules,” he huffs. He’s had one too many customers walk out of his studio, exclaiming loudly how the process didn’t hurt after quivering under the needle like Moon Baek had severed a limb with slow, torturous cuts.
Most of the time, it’s men. It’s always men.
“But, well. Pain is temporary.”
Lee Do stares at him in contemplation. “Pain is temporary,” he repeats quietly to himself. “I guess you’re right. What else have you done?”
“Curious, huh?” He raises a brow in question.
“They’re nice,” the man replies, hiding his expression behind his drink. “Your tattoos.”
“I know,” Baek answers smugly, the compliment going straight to his head. How could it not when such a pretty angel praises him?
“You don’t have any that you regret?”
Baek has to pause to think. Then shrugs. “To be honest, once they heal, I forget they’re there, so I don’t think ‘bout any of them long enough to feel anything.” He pauses again. “Wellll, actually-” he tugs the hem of his shirt up, showcasing his torso and traces the jagged lettering under the left side of his rib. “The idiot who did this one dug too deep into my skin. Nearly got it infected ‘cause it just didn’t wanna heal.”
Moon Baek frowns, glaring down at his torso. He does, in fact, have space for another tattoo or five.
“Hey, Lee Do, what’s your favourite flower?”
“That’s hyung to you.” The florist clears his throat. “There are too many to choose from.”
The taller rolls his eyes, yanking his shirt back down. “But if you had to choose one..?”
Do raises a brow at him. “Why d’you want to know?”
“Is it really so bad of me to be intrigued by my pretty neighbour? I’m sick of talking about me. I want to know more about you.”
The older gawks at him, cheeks burning brightly. “Shameless,” he mutters under his breath, glancing away from Baek’s suggestive leer.
“C’mon.” Impishly, he taps his feet against the floor, urging the latter for an answer. “Tell me, pretty.” Do’s bites his lip, hesitant to share. “Please?”
“Recently,” he starts softly, almost shy. “I’d say astragalus."
“The fuck is that?” Baek blurts out before he can stop himself.
The older observes him, amusement glistening like stars in his eyes.
“Would you like to see?”
-
They’re not the nicest flowers he’s seen, Moon Baek will admit.
But Do handles it with such care that he can’t help but be slightly jealous.
“You said flowers have meaning, right?” He questions from where he crouches next to the older, the two overlooking a large pot of the latter’s favourite plant inside the florist’s shop. “What does this one mean?”
“Your presence softens my pain,” Do murmurs quietly, fingers caressing a single petal.
-𓇢
A few days later, Moon Baek is spread across his tattooing station with Gyujin curved over his hip, face scrunched in concentration.
He takes a glance at the younger’s work.
“Hm. Hold the gun lighter on your way up. It’ll help add more dimension to the shading.”
“Yessiirr,” the younger grunts. “Like this?”
Baek adjusts Gyujin’s grip a little. “The taper’s already angled at the tip. You don’t need to break your wrist- let the needle do most of the work.”
A knock stops the two in their movement, glancing at each other in question.
“Did you book someone in our break?”
Gyujin rolls his eyes, setting the tattoo gun down and yanking his gloves off with a snap. “I haven’t done that in months.”
Moon Baek bares his teeth at the sass. “Can’t put it past your idiocy.”
The younger throws him the finger over his shoulder as he pulls the door open. “Holy shit.”
“Who is it?”
“Hello.”
“H-hi,” Gyujin stutters before shuffling to the side awkwardly, his jaw dropped in awe.
Yeah. He gets it.
“Oh?” Baek sits up. “An angel? At my door? Must be my lucky day.”
Lee Do huffs at his words. “Hi Baek-ah.”
“You bought me flowers?” The younger holds a hand to his bare chest dramatically.
“Mh,” he answers bashfully, stepping forth to hand the perfectly wrapped bouquet to the younger.
“They’re not nearly as pretty as you, angel.”
Moon Baek ignores the sound of gagging from his apprentice with a smug glare.
You wish this were you, huh?
Gyujin sticks his tongue out and walks out of the room.
“So, what brings you here?”
Lee Do ignores him, stepping closer between the younger’s splayed legs. “Is that an astragalus?”
Moon Baek follows the older’s gaze to his side, the fresh lines of his new tattoo, red and swollen around the edges.
“D’you like it?”
The older exhales sharply, gaze heavy on Baek’s face. “Why?”
“You said they were your favourite.”
Do’s jaw strains. “I changed my mind. I like foxgloves more.”
He extends his arm, presenting the back of his bicep. “D’you think these foxgloves would look good here? Or maybe-” He raises the same arm, tracing the empty skin stretched high over his ribs with his opposite hand. “-Here?”
“You’re insane,” the older laughs incredulously, the sound airy with emotion.
“It’s just what you do to me,” he winks, and then pouts drastically. “Will you stay and hold my hand? This one hurts like a bitch.” He’s not lying either- the hip is one of his least favourite places to get stabbed repeatedly by multiple needles. Nothing has yet to beat the back of his knee or palms, though.
Lee Do stabs a finger into his shoulder. “Idiot. If it hurts so much, then why are you doing it?”
“Like I said, sweets. Pain is temporary. Just hold my hand through it. Pretty please?”
The older grunts. “Fine. But if you squeeze too hard, I’m leaving.”
“Whatever you say, pretty.”
Baek, in fact, does squeeze too hard once Gyujin comes back with a new cartridge and fresh gloves that weren’t stained with ink to stab into him again. He can swear on his life that the kid was purposely being rougher than normal because he’s a jealous twat. But Do doesn’t complain and instead takes to distracting the taller with his presence and that pretty, pretty mouth.
“Why tattooing?”
“Hm. How about-” Baek turns his head from where he was lying down to glance at the older. Do had laced their fingers together to sit more comfortably in his lap, an index tracing the ridges of Moon Baek’s knuckles, heedless to the butterflies trying to escape the younger’s stomach from his soothing touch. “-You tell me why you’re a florist?”
Do hums, thoughts far away despite looking right at Baek. “There’s not much to it -just wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps, I suppose.” He pauses for a second and then continues when he sees Baek’s curious gaze glued to him. “My dad raised Seyoungie, and I, like he did his plants.” The florist smiles fondly. “With more love and care than we needed. I guess the only way Seyongie and I know how to translate his love is by continuing his craft.”
“You’re close with your sister then?”
“Yeah.” Lee Do hums in agreement after a few long seconds. “We’re close. And you?”
This. This is one of the reasons why he doesn’t do relationships. People his age are too afraid to bring home someone who’s never had parents before, someone who doesn’t understand or care for the notion of blood ties.
“Just my dog and this rat over ‘ere,” he nudges his head at his little apprentice.
“Dog?” Do questions, the most eager he’s seen him.
“Did I say dog? I meant the devil in disguise.”
“That would be you,” Gyujin mumbles, his hair falling into his face as he dips the tip of the needle into the ink. He’s gonna have to drag the brat to the barbers against his- no, against both their wills, and the thought already has him exhausted. “Can’t blame the dog when you’re the owner.”
“You little shit. I’ll have you know I’m an absolute pleasure-.”
“-Right,” Lee Do and Gyujin deadpan at the same time before turning to each other in surprise and grinning.
How awful.
The taller sighs whistfully. “Is this what it felt like to be bullied in school, Gyujin-ah?”
The teenager halts, gun buzzing in his hand as he glares up at Baek. “I will fuck this fucking tattoo up and ruin your fucking life.”
Baek raises a brow. “I’ll send you back to your foster fam. I’m sure they’ll love to have you back.”
Gyujin gapes. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wanna test that?”
“Baek-ah,” Do squeezes his fingers softly.
“Yes, my pretty?”
“Don’t be so mean to Gyujinie.”
His cheeks hurt from how wide he’s been grinning. The sight of his florist smiling at him only fuels the warmth building in his core. “Moonbaekie? Mean? Never.”
Moon Baek 1. Gyujin 0.
𓇢𓆸
Foxgloves; insecurity.
𓇢𓆸
“Gyujin-ah, did you know flowers have meaning?”
The younger stops scribbling in his sketchbook to stare at him blankly. “You didn’t?”
“Okay, smartass. Since you know every-fuckin-thing, what do these mean?” He holds out the bouquet in his hand, the one his pretty florist gave to him earlier this morning. Do even asked to see the healing astragalus twisting over his hipbone, skin no longer red but scabbed over and itchy as fuck.
The younger pulls out his phone, glances at the flowers Baek holds for him to see, then back at his screen, fingers clacking away at the screen. He looks at the flowers again, at Baek and cackles.
Baek sits up straighter in his chair. “What?”
“Rejection. Or grief.”
“You’re wrong,” he stands with indignation, storming the few steps over to the teen to snatch his phone from his hand. “You’re wrong.”
Gyujin laughs harder, close to tears.
Baek drops the phone, ignoring the latter’s shriek when it thuds to the floor sharply and glowers down at the lavish bouquet tied together with white lace.
He sniffs. “Fine.”
Rejection, huh.
𓇢𓆸
Bouquet;
Complexity: Conveyed a more complex message or a combination of emotions —the selection of different flowers in a bouquet allowed for a richer, layered expression of feelings.
𓇢𓆸
It isn’t fine.
Moon Baek tries to distract himself, first with a long run with Hades that only tires the dog out, and sends him spiralling even further when he finds that damned kid and his mother by the kid’s playground.
Then he tries to scratch the itch to freestyle something over his shoulder, but, curse his broadness, he struggles to reach the right angles to make the lines flow around the curves of his muscles. And every time he has to scrub off the pen lines and start again, his frustration only seems to grow. Until he finally snaps and flings the pen with a curse, throwing his hoodie back on and climbing the stairs at the back of his studio and into his apartment.
He pours himself a drink, downs it in long gulps, but even the burn of whiskey does nothing to ease the discomfort sitting in his chest.
It’s just a stupid crush. Get over it.
Another glass, brown slipping down his throat. It doesn’t burn this time.
This doesn’t feel like just a crush.
No. Not with the ease their fingers had laced together earlier, thumbs caressing skin tenderly. He doesn’t remember the last time someone had touched him with such kindness. The faint worry creasing Do’s brow whenever Baek struggled to hide the wince on his face every time the needle skipped over the stretched skin over his hipbone.
Rejection?
But Do had conversed with him openly, an easy smile on his face at all the lame jokes he’d pulled out of his ass because Baek adored the pleased glint in those pretty eyes. The odd silence here and there where the latter traced the ink on his fingers with a gentleness that nearly put him to sleep despite being under the needle of the tattoo gun. He was like a curious cat, pointing at random tattoos that adorned his torso and arms, listening intently to the stories and meanings behind each one, laughing brightly at the narratives where he’d let his friends ink him when he was still an idiot kid, making idiot choices.
This. This couldn’t be just a crush.
His hands shake as he pours another glass to the brim.
It tastes like nothing.
One second, he’s splayed across his couch, empty glass in hand as he curls into the warmth of his doberman. The next, he’s outside the florist’s shop, sniffling in his thin shirt.
He watches Lee Do through the glass, oblivious to his dejection as he nipped at dead leaves with garden scissors.
Ignoring the closed sign, Baek stumbles in.
The older spooks at his sudden presence and nips at his finger instead of the stem of the leaf between his fingers.
Baek wants to cry.
Instead, he hurries over to the man who squints at his bleeding finger with a frown, and takes his hand between his own.
“‘M sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Do frowns. “Are you drunk?”
“No.” His frown deepens. Moon Baek sniffles, and if his brain weren’t foggy with alcohol, he’d think himself pathetic. “Yes.”
The older’s expression softens slightly. “Are you alright?”
“No,” he shakes his head, holding his breath when the action makes him dizzy. And then, because he can’t help himself, he leans down and laps at the drops of blood trickling down the latter’s index finger. He sucks hard at the cut and hums in approval when it stops bleeding. “And you, pretty? You ‘right?”
“Mh,” Do hums quietly, a little breathlessly, gaze glued to Baek’s lips. “You-” his hand moves up to cup his jaw. The younger can’t help but lean into the warmth, shivering as a finger swipes at his bottom lip, revealing traces of red.
He wants this man so desperately. God, does he want.
“Tell me. What’s wrong, Baek-ah?” Do murmurs into the small gap between them as Moon Baek mindlessly peppers small kisses down the length of the older’s soft palm, breathing in the scent of earth and the sweetness of plucked petals.
Baek frowns.
He doesn’t want to think about what’s wrong.
Nothing can be wrong when he feels so warm. It reminds him of the joy he'd felt as a lonely child, blindly chasing after faux affection without the sense of impending doom- the knowledge that once again, he'd be abandoned, given up like a dog that bites, misunderstood and discarded.
“Don’t remember,” he mumbles weakly in response. “Nothing’s wrong.”
The shorter man sighs softly. “Gardenia,” he whispers.
“Hm?”
“It means you are safe with me.”
Safe?
He hasn’t felt safe in a long time. Safety only comes with solitude- he learnt that at the age of five after being shoved into a closet by his third foster mum. But here, surrounded by the cosiness of the older man’s shop, the body heat radiating off of him, Baek can believe that he is.
Safe, that is.
-
He wakes in his room, blurry-eyed and confused, with little memory of the night before.
The scent of earth and flowers linger under his nose, and oh. There's that familiar trace of impending doom.
“You look like shit.”
Baek squints at the lanky figure before him and sits up on an elbow, the plush of the sofa leather giving under him. “The fuck are you doing?”
“You didn't wake me up. Got worried.”
“What's the time?” He groans, forcing himself to get up. He glances down at himself and realises he hasn’t moved an inch.
“Late enough. You've got a coloured piece waiting for ya- she’s kinda insistent on you doing it.” For fuck’s sake. “Want me to set up?”
Baek lies back down. “I- yeah. Thanks.”
“Aight. Also, Do hyung left these for you.”
Do hyung??
Gyujin drops something on his chest.
Flowers.
The sight of them tugs at his heartstrings.
Definitely not a crush.
“Kid, what do they mean?”
“Well, to be honest, I don’t know. Google says you give these to those celebrating ‘girlhood’ or to those who wish for good fertility after marriage.”
“The fuck?” Baek nearly falls off his couch in utter bewilderment.
Fertility?? Girlhood??? This is worse than rejection.
His day could not get any worse.
-
It does, in fact, get much worse.
His client, lightly put, is a desperate cunt.
Now, Moon Baek knows there are stereotypes attached to his visual aesthetic- the heavily pierced ears paired with his facial piercings, tattoos from neck to toe (he’s yet to tattoo his head because he’s grown too fond of his long hair to shave it all off), the baggy, dark fits he wears that don’t fit into society’s norm. He doesn’t like it, but he gets it. He’s heard them most of his life, so he’s no longer offended by the odd stares and rude comments now.
But his least favourite has to be the assumption that he’d give out to anyone.
If anything, Moon Baek might be a little too picky, given how it’s been months since he last got laid.
At first, he just deals with it - he was late to the pre-booked and deposited appointment, after all.
But the bitch just wouldn’t stop flirting and touching, no matter how many times he asked her to kindly fuck off. And when he ignores her advances, trying to finish her tattoo as efficiently and quickly as possible, she switches tactics and moves on to flirting with his little apprentice.
And that would not pass.
Gyujin is (unfortunately) his kid. And even though he’s been a real pain in the ass to deal with ever since Moon Baek took him under his wing despite barely passing as a thriving adult of society himself, a real stick in his dick, a shit stain that refuses to wash out, he wouldn’t allow the bitch to make the boy uncomfortable in their safe space.
Hungover and pissed, a little (a lot) heartbroken too, Baek drags her by the hair and kicks her out of his studio, chirping out a ‘don’t come back!’ with a fake smile that makes his cheeks hurt, before slamming the door shut.
“Bitch.”
“Agreed,” Gyujin huffs at his side.
“How about we close early for the day, kid? I need some fuckin’ sleep.”
“Sure, hyung. I’ll close up-”
“Don’t worry about it.” Baek reaches for his wallet and pulls out his card. “Just get out for a bit and do whatever kids your age do, with that friend of yours.” Gyujin takes it with greedy fingers. “No drugs, alcohol with adult supervision- only one glass, and if I find a single trace of tobacco on you, I will rip your hair out with my bare hands and force you to become a monk.”
“Aight, Dad.”
“Fuck off. Oh- pick up a new SD card for my camera, will you?”
“Sure, anything else?”
“Yeah. Fuck off-”
“-Is this bad timing?”
Gyujin brightens at the sight of the older peeking around the slightly ajar door. “Do hyung!”
“Hi, sweetheart.” Do greets him just as eagerly, pulling the smaller into a hug. He hands the kid a single flower from the handful of flowers he held.
Moon Baek is not jealous. Not at all.
“What are you doing here?”
“Ah- I heard yelling and got a little worried, but it looks like the two of you are alright..?”
Baek speaks up finally, arms crossed and leaning against the curved reception desk that’s slowly transformed into his apprentice’s work station.
“Fuckin’ peachy.”
He doesn’t mean for it to come out as cold as it does, and Do doesn’t expect it from him either, from the flash of hurt that darts across his face.
Both Gyujin and Do frown at him.
He rolls his eyes in return.
Frankly, he’s not in the mood- tired, hungry, and a whole load of hurt really doesn't mix well with a headache.
“Hyung, you’re being mean.”
“Cool. Don’t care. Get out.”
“Hey-”
“Baek,” Do calls out to him, in that soft, tender tone of his.
The younger hates it- hates how easily he lets the older play him like a fool. He should have given up after the first bouquet and the cruelty of Do’s unspoken words, shouldn’t have let himself hope, shouldn’t have let himself crave for Lee Do’s attention as desperately as he does.
“What.” He takes a glance at the flowers, jaw clenching in anger. “Those for me again?”
Do’s hand tightens around the stems, pulling the bunch closer to his chest. His reply is a meek thing, a quiet hum of a reply that Moon Baek scoffs at.
“You can take ‘em back with you.”
All these years later, and he’s still a dog that bites.
-
Gyujin ignores him for days on end.
The silence is deafening, even with the radio playing in the back.
The younger glares at him when he mentions the weather of all things.
“Fuck- fine. I’m sorry.” All he gets is a meaner glare that makes the kid look like a kicked puppy. “I’m sorry for being an ass the other day.”
Gyujin huffs. “I’m not the one you should apologise to. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look that- that sad, and I’ve seen you that one time at the store when all the chocolate milk sold out.”
Uncalled for.
“Who, Lee Do?”
The kid stares. Then throws his pencil at Baek’s head. “Who else, you dick?”
“Fine, I’ll apologise to him too.”
“Okay,” Gyujin stares at him expectantly.
“Later. I’ll apologise to him later. Are we good?”
Later turns into a week. A long, lonely, flowerless, Lee Do-less week. But the apology doesn’t happen of his own will. Mostly, at least.
“You!” The stranger, who’s not really a stranger, yells at him as soon as he barges through his studio to point a stern finger in his face. Hades barks from within his playpen, his claws scattering against the marble tiles as he forces himself onto all four paws.
Moon Baek can only blink, wide-eyed, stencil limp in hand. It takes him a second to even remember his dog’s commands to shut the hell up.
“Hey, dude-”
“Don’t dude me. What did you say to Do hyung?” Jeongu huffs and puffs. “I’m sick and tired of him moping around all day, staring into space. What do you guys think this is? Bloody Romeo and Juliet? Why do I have to be a witness to your melodramatics? Why are you gays so damned dramatic?”
“I-”
“Y’know what- I don’t even want to know. Just go talk to him. Please, for my sanity. Please.”
Moon Baek can only nod in compliance.
“Good.” Jeongu exhales slowly. “Great.” He turns swiftly, ready to leave, before spinning back around. “Maybe not today, though. He’s having a… rough day.”
He leaves.
Hades stands proudly, with his chest puffed up like he saved the day.
Moon Baek has three things to say. Firstly. What. The. Fuck. Secondly, why does his dog have dicks for brains? And thirdly, what does the stranger-who-is-not-really-a-stranger mean by a rough day?
The thought eats at him as the clock ticks away, his knee bouncing every time he sits to work on a few flash designs in the few hours he has between booked clients, until he can ignore the itch no longer.
To his surprise, the door to the florist’s shop is locked shut, the lights dimmed, and a note taped to the door with a neatly written message.
Sorry, we’re closed today. We’ll open as usual tomorrow. Thank you for your understanding.
Moon Baek looks up, hoping to see some form of life through the upper window, but even there, he draws a blank.
Scratching his head in confusion, he kisses his teeth and turns back, only to freeze in his spot at the gloomy form clutching a box before him.
“Hi, pretty.”
"What are you doing?”
“Looking for you.”
Lee Do sniffles quietly, chin nuzzling into the knitted scarf wrapped around his neck to ward off the harsh cold of late November. “Why?”
Baek takes a second to examine the older.
To others, Do looks like a man who’s stood in the cold too long with his red nose and rosy cheeks. But the younger sees right through the man’s weak facade.
“Were you crying?”
“Mh.” He doesn’t even bother to lie and walks right past the younger, unlocking the door to his shop with a single hand and switching the lights on. Baek hurries to follow, a little lost on what to say or do.
“Want a hug?”
The older glares over his shoulder.
Comfort is not Moon Baek’s forte. Clearly.
“What do you want?” He winces at the harshness coating the florist’s words.
Okay, deserved.
“Uh.” Think. Quick. “Flowers? Yes. Flowers.”
Do sighs. He drops the box and slips out of his leather jacket, neatly placing it over the counter. “What for?” He questions, gaze blank.
“To say,” he steps up to the latter. “I’m sorry for being a dickhead. Forgive me?”
“I don’t think there’s a flower for that. But I have other suggestions.”
Moon Baek gulps. He doesn’t like where this is going. “Like?
“Butterfly weed. Means ‘leave me alone’.” The florist turns away from him, evidently done with Baek and this conversation, but there’s an urge in him to reach out, to demand a better answer. So he does.
Do stills at the touch, and Baek huffs, an empty smirk tugging at his lips for the shortest second when Do glares at the fist around his bicep, holding him back.
“I don’t want to.”
“Moon Baek, I really can’t-” the older lets out a shaky breath, fingers curling by his side. He looks pitiful like this. “-Cater to your whims, right now. Alright?”
“I’m not asking you to,” he replies, a curled finger tugging the florist’s chin up. “But right now, you look like you need someone.”
“And that’s you?”
Baek looks around them theatrically. “I don’t see anyone else here, pretty.” He brushes a thumb under Do’s right eye. “You seeing things now?” He grins, giddy at the weak smile he earns himself.
“Why? Scared of ghosts?”
“Terrified,” he grins widely.
Finally, Lee Do’s shoulders ease up. “Come on. You can help me unpack.”
Blindly, the younger follows the florist through the back of his shop and up the stairs, the latter’s box held safely between his arms as he notices how similar the layout is to his own studio.
“You live here, now?” Baek asks as soon as he steps into the latter’s home, placing the box by the others that littered the floor in organised piles, some half empty, some still taped up.
The place felt so…hollow.
“What about your dad? Sister?”
Do looks down, gaze a little lost. “They’re dead, Baek-ah.”
“Oh! Uh-” Fuck. He should have kept his mouth shut. Fucckkk, why did he have to procrastinate with his neighbourly duties? “Um…so uh-” He scratches his head awkwardly.
Lee Do glances up at him and giggles.
Giggles.
The sound makes his heart quiver, the weak thing. Baek tries not to make it obvious when he picks his jaw off the floor.
“You are amusing at the worst times.”
“Just my charm, pretty.”
“Hm. The most charming,” the older sighs sarcastically, kneeling to pry open one of the boxes.
Moon Baek joins him on the floor, getting comfortable with his legs crossed. “What first?” He questions with a little too much enthusiasm. Perhaps he’s excited to be learning something more about his pretty florist, but it can’t be helped.
Do pulls out a frame- it’s of two little boys with, who he assumes to be their parents, the grins on all their faces contagious enough for Baek himself to feel the joy of the captured moment.
“Who’s this?”
The older takes a second to reply, fingers caressing the glass tenderly. “That’s me,” he points at one of the boys. “My brother, my parents.”
“But… Hyeongsik and Seyoung-ssi?”
“They took me in when I was young. After- after my family died.”
“Huh,” Baek throws himself on the floor with reckless abandon and stares at the ceiling to ruminate. “We’re somewhat similar, the two of us.”
At least Moon Baek never had the chance to learn what familial love feels like, to know the ache of losing it, not once, but twice.
Though he doesn’t care for it much now, he remembers how desperately he craved for it when he was stuck in orphanages, circulating among foster families until the fucked up system abandoned him on the streets with the little belongings he had and the odd attachment of the new kid he’d given his bed to. He can’t believe the same kid clings to him to this day, glued to his side like a barnacle does a ship’s hull.
“Hm?” Lee Do coaxes with harmless intrigue, imitating the younger’s previous stance and sitting cross-legged.
Tilting his head to look down at the shuffling older, Baek wonders how many of his riddles he wants to solve for his florist.
The answer is easy.
All of them.
Baek holds out a petulant hand. “Emotional support first.”
Do blinks at him slowly, even as the younger impatiently wiggles his fingers, going so far as to kick his legs against the floor when he doesn’t give in quickly enough.
Slowly, the older leans forward. Then he drops his head in Baek’s palm.
For a second, the younger is amazed by how far his fingers reach, long enough to curve around the sides of the latter’s face, the day’s stubble scratching at his calluses lightly.
Moon Baek feels his entire body flush red. He is only slightly ashamed to say his dick twitches in interest. (Once again, his right hand would be his best friend tonight.)
“Hand. I meant hand- your- you-” Baek fumbles over his words.
Lee Do blushes, pulling away sharply, cheeks and ears the loveliest shade of red.
He wants to tattoo the hue onto his own skin.
“Sorry, I didn’t- Seyoung used to do the same thing- sorry.” He clears his throat. “Sorry.”
“I’m jealous, pretty. Who else has seen this cute side of yours?”
“Shut up,” Do hisses with no bite, finger digging into Baek’s rib cruelly.
Baek can’t help but laugh despite the sharp pain. “C’mon. Give me your hand.”
The florist slips his fingers between his with ease, and just because he can, Baek tugs, just once, with enough force to bring the other man down beside him. Lee Do goes without complaint, even allowing Baek to pull their interlaced hands close to his chest to fiddle with the older’s soft, pliant fingers.
He can’t help it- they were so much smaller than his own, and this is good material… for his later solo activities.
“Where to start…hm. I have no dad, no mum, no siblings.” Do’s gaze is heavy on the side of his face- it makes him feel exposed. Vulnerable. So he goes back to staring at the ceiling. “Foster families? Yes. But even the people who fostered me gave me back to the orphanages for the same reasons. ‘Too troubled. Not worth the money,’ or it was ‘not a good fit for my family’ or-” he takes a glance at the florist. “-Brace yourself for this one- just straight up ‘unlovable’. ”
The reminder of his past doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. If anything, he feels rather empty, almost numb.
“Baek…”
He laughs humourlessly at the expression on the older’s face. “You don’t need to look at me like that, pretty one. It is what it is.” He likes where he is now. Although it was a struggle and a half to get to this point. Just him, his studio, the kid that clings to him like a parasite, and now, maybe, the angel next to him.
“I don’t think you are.”
“What’s that?”
There’s something impalpably soft in Do’s eyes, his head turned to Baek in what has to be an uncomfortable angle, cheeks spilling over his high cheekbones adorably. The urge to just lean over and dig his teeth into his flesh is strong.
“I don’t think you’re unlovable.”
Turning onto his side with an elbow holding up most of his weight and ignoring the discomfort of his bones against the floor, Moon Baek spreads Do’s fingers out before him and presses a kiss to the healed cut on his index finger. “Yeah?”
The florist nods, a small gesture that has his hair flowing with the movement.
Like this, he truly does look like an angel. The prettiest.
Baek nuzzles into Do's hand. “Okay.” He tries and fails to swallow past the heaviness sitting high in his chest. “Now comfort me.”
This time, it is Lee Do who pulls him close, his arm going around the younger’s shoulder to pull his weight on top of him. A bold move that Baek wasn’t mentally or physically prepared for. Despite that, he moves into him readily, rolling till his front presses firmly against the latter’s and drops his head in the crook of Do’s neck with a shaky exhale.
If Lee Do is an angel, then this must be heaven.
“Wait-” He pulls away to look down at the latter, and oh, what a terrible idea that was. Now he wants to kiss him. “Does this mean you forgive me?” Do sighs tiredly. Fond and exhausted and dour. Ah, yes. The Moon Baek Effect. “Yeah, never mind. I’ll shut up.”
-
The next day, the florist visits him with more flowers, looking shy and unable to meet his gaze.
Baek is silently grateful for the customer waiting for him in the back, because otherwise he would have given in to his desire to press the man against the wall and kiss him silly, right then and there. The urge from last night seems to have grown exponentially despite rubbing one out with his teeth sunk in the flesh of his own palm to keep quiet.
He doesn’t ask Gyujin to explain the mix of colourful flowers, sends the kid off, and instead pulls his beloved camera off the shelf and nearly begs on his knees for Do to let him take a few shots of him holding the bouquet.
It takes a short second for his viewfinder to focus on the man dressed warmly in a grey turtleneck sweater and black slacks. A short second where Moon Baek feels greed chew into him mercilessly.
At first, Lee Do is too caught up with cooing at Hades, who stretches, belly up for the florist's attention, to notice the dull click of his camera shutters going off.
The first picture has Baek staring at his camera in awe.
He clicks again. And again. And again.
At last, the florist looks right into the camera, eyes widening in embarrassment. The sight pulls the younger in like a bee smelling pollen, even more so when he mutters for Baek to stop.
“I think that's enough.”
“Just one more,” Baek persuades with a wide grin. “You look perfect like this, pretty.”
And there it is, that flush that makes Moon Baek pathetically weak in the knees.
“Fine, just one more,” the latter gives in with little ease, oblivious to the multiple burst shots taken in that second as awkwardness lingers in his tense shoulders and the twitch in his fingers.
“God, you’re so cute.” Hades perks up, ears twitching at the compliment. “No. Not you.”
Lee Do tugs at the neck of his sweater, grumbling under his breath at Baek’s comment, cheeks as vibrant as ever.
“‘M not cute.”
“Mh, sure, baby,” the pet name escapes his lips without struggle as Moon Baek admires the pictures he’d taken, excitement bubbling in his gut as Do turns to leave after placing the flowers in the vase by the front desk that Gyujin had bought, only after all his complaining about the many dying bouquets lying around went through Baek's one ear and out the other.
Later, when he closes his studio for the day, and Gyujin escapes to his room to hide away like a hermit, probably cuddled up with Hades under his thick blanket and endless pile of pillows, a large bowl of cheese balls emptying beside them, Baek taps into his pool of excitement and does something borderline insane
It isn’t hard for him to blend hues of red pigmented inks into white for that flawless red that was up on his tablet screen, hovering over the picture of his blushing florist in a HEX colour scale. The hard part, however, is creating a stencil of a rose that would curve perfectly between the gap of his lettering and the Doberman tattoo that took up space on his forearm.
By the time he’s done with his tattoo, it’s close to 1 am, and there’s so much adrenaline pumping through him that he decides, stupidly, that now would be the perfect time to go on a short walk.
He whistles by the stairs that lead up to his place and ignores the annoyed moaning of his apprentice as the clanking of Hades’ paws fills the silence
The dog greets him warmly by licking at his outstretched fingers, tail wagging slowly.
“Walkies?” Baek questions quietly when he kneels to clip on Hades’ spare collar that hangs on the wall. He doesn’t bother with a lead, but pulls his dog’s heavy limbs through his reflective jacket and lets him sniff about freely as they walk down the street to the cafe that’s open day and night.
Stupidly, he forgets his own coat- such is the life of a dedicated dog parent.
The warmth of the coffee shop nearly hurts when he enters.
“Couché,” Hades lies down by the entrance. “Good boy. I’ll get you a large pup cup, hm?”
He orders his usual (a sickeningly sweet drink, near hot enough to melt the metal bars in his tongue) that makes the barista behind the bar roll his eyes as soon as he sees Moon Baek stroll in with his shoulders pulled up to his ears and his arms crossed over his body to preserve his body heat.
When he turns, a pup cup in one hand, his latte in the other, he finds that Hades is gone- a head scratching discovery.
His eyes scan the cafe, panicking the second time round, because how can he miss such a big dog? He exhales sharply with relief when he spots a black tail wagging by an occupied booth. His heart nearly fell out of his ass, right there.
For fuck’s sake.
Baek hurries over, apology ready on the tip of his tongue, but freezes when he finds Hades trying to climb into the person’s lap.
“It’s just you,” he huffs, even though internally he’s thankful he doesn’t need to worry about his dog running off to annoy strangers for pets. Baek licks the top of the whipped cream swirl from the pup cup (because parent tax exists in the Moon household) before allowing Hades to go at it. “Hi, pretty.” Baek turns to the man sitting opposite his florist and gives him a half-hearted nod in acknowledgement.
“Baek,” Do greets with more enthusiasm than usual. “What are you doing here so late?”
“What are you doing here so late?” His latte is creamy and overwhelmingly sweet- just how he likes it.
“Hello,” the stranger extends a hand to Baek to be shaken, his smile oozing cockiness. “I’m Seokho.”
Baek ignores him.
Do glances at this Seokho, a grimace on his face that he hides well enough, but Baek has stared and observed Do enough times to memorise his face and body language, understanding all his unspoken words by now. Curiosity gets the best of him yet again.
“Who’s this, pretty?”
“Uh-” Do sits up straight. “This is Seokho.” Baek blinks at the florist and takes an obnoxious sip of his drink, ignoring how it burns his tongue. “My uh- ex.”
His piercings clack against his teeth loudly.
Right. Well. This won’t do.
He steps over Hades, who's got his snout stuck in his paper cup and whipped cream all over his face, the fool.
“Budge over, then.”
Do moves, eyes wide. What are you doing?
Baek grins as he shuffles across the bench, pressing up as close as possible to the older. Absolutely nothing.
The florist scowls with his gaze. He doesn’t move away from that tattoo artist, though.
“So,” Baek sings lowly. “How did you fuck up?”
Seokho puffs his chest out and fixes the lapels of his blazer. “What?”
“You must have fucked up for someone as kind and-” he looks the latter up and down. So tacky. “-Generous as my pretty to break up with you.”
“Baek,” Do tugs at his sleeve. “That’s not-”
“-That’s none of your business.”
“Ohh, I see.” He shakes his head and tuts in exaggerated disapproval. This is so fun. “You cheated.”
“What? No-”
“How could you hurt my Do like that?”
“I didn’t cheat-”
“You’re an ass, then.”
“Excuse me? You don’t even know me-”
“Definitely an asshole.”
The ex glares, speechless and agape.
Do pinches his arm, right over his fresh tattoo. Baek can’t help but flinch and hiss under his breath at the sting, despite how weak the squeeze was.
“Did I pinch you that hard?” Do questions in alarm, pulling his sleeve up hastily to inspect his forearm, freezing at the sight of his wrapped tattoo.
“It’s fresh- not your fault, sweets. You didn’t know. Don’t worry about it.”
The florist stares and stares, eventually looking up at Baek distractedly.
“It’s a pink rose.”
“For you,” he winks.
“Do, do you remember the flowers I got you for your birthday-” Seokho drones on, only to be ignored yet again. Until the florist blinks rapidly, turning to frown at his ex.
“You never got me flowers.” That shuts the latter up real quick. “You plucked a flower out of the pot from my house after Seyoung reminded you of my birthday.”
“Right,” Seokho sniffs. “Well-”
“Right, I am,” Baek agrees. “You are an ass.”
“And you look like-”
“Stop.” Do murmurs sharply. Then sighs, exhausted. “I appreciate you coming to see me. Thank you for your condolences, but I think it’s best if you leave.”
“But-”
“Now.”
Seokho stands with a displeased curse on the tip of his tongue, and Baek watches him with an award-winning smile.
The idiot trips over Hades’ paw, earning himself a snarl that makes him flinch. His dog has earned himself steak for breakfast and dinner for three days straight.
“Bye,” he can’t help but wave eagerly. Good riddance.
“C'mon,” the florist sighs again. “We should get home too.”
The walk back is slow and silent, other than the soft laughs that Do let out every time Hades would gallop past them with the edge of his cup between his teeth, or rub against their thighs for pets before scurrying off again, Baek calling out for him to stay close every time he blends into the dark of the night.
“He loves to push my buttons, the brat.”
“Maybe,” Do smiles. “But he is adorable.”
Baek shivers, and it’s not from the cold.
Silence envelops them yet again. Eventually, unwillingly, they reach their destination, footsteps slowing to a pause.
He lets Hades into his studio, watches him gallop up the stairs, before turning to Do, who was watching him the entire time.
“Why a pink rose?”
Baek doesn’t have a reason for the choice of flower, and he can’t say it’s pink because he wanted to eternalise the flush of Do’s cheeks onto his own skin, that he’s greedy, that he wants everything of Do imprinted onto him like the ink embedded all over his body. No, that would be insane. It’s best not to scare his pretty thing.
“'Cause I really like you.”
That’s not any better, idiot.
The older stares up at him when he purses his lips awkwardly and kicks at the concrete.
“...Bad timing?”
“Can I kiss you?”
Oh.
Oh, this is way better.
“Yes,” he nods frantically. “Yes, yes, absolutely. Yes.”
Do pulls him close by the collar, and Baek meets him halfway with too much enthusiasm, lips parting with ease as the smell and taste of his florist invade all his senses. He’s so warm, so soft under his fingers, Baek can’t help but melt.
“You’re cold,” Do whispers against his mouth, palms cupping his numb cheeks.
Baek grunts in part agreement and part frustration with stopping. So he pulls the older back in close, as close as possible. “My dick is about to fall off, but that is not important right now.”
“I think it’s very important.” The florist huffs, teeth digging into the flesh of his inner cheek for a short second as mirth fills his gaze. “What if I want you to follow me up?”
This man. This pretty, pretty man will be the death of him.
His grip tightens around Do’s waist when he drops back in for another mind-numbing kiss. Baek hums softly at the quiet moan that escapes the older when he pushes past his lips and traces his teeth with the metal balls sitting on the top of his tongue.
“Lead the way.”
𓇢𓆸
Pink Rose; a gentler expression of adoration than a red rose.
𓇢𓆸
“Off, off, off,” Baek breathes harshly against Do’s parted lips, fingers near frantic as they tugged at the hem of the florist’s sweater, traced the lines of his ribs and tugged at his short hair.
They’d barely made it through the door, stumbling and tripping up the stairs, giggling like teenagers every time they stopped to kiss the air out of their lungs, before Baek had shoved the shorter against the wall with one sole purpose.
“C’mon, pretty-”
“Baek,” Do huffs past a breathy chuckle, his gaze dark and glistening with something similar to glee when he looks up at the taller with his pretty, pretty eyes. “Slow down, ‘m not going anywhere.”
That stops him. He pulls away and stares. Contemplates shortly.
“No. Nope, do you know how badly I’ve wanted this?” He frowns in faux displeasure at the smile that takes over Do’s face, and lets his fingers trail down smooth, toned muscle to tug weakly at the waistband of the florist’s trousers. The latter simply leans back, watches him through his lashes, and if it weren’t for his softly heaving chest, Baek would have described him as the perfect image of calm and composed.
On the other hand, Moon Baek feels absolutely, inconsolably feral. Like a starved dog scenting out a bone.
“So if you want slow, sweetheart, I promise I can go as slow as you want. Later.”
Do grins, nods once, and Baek takes it as a green light and kisses his pretty thing, again and again and again, feeling like he’s drowning and simultaneously discovering oxygen for the first time in his life as he blindly leads them to the older’s room. He prays he still remembers from the last time he was here helping the older unpack.
They shed their shirt and sweater as soon as their limbs touch the bed, the scent of lilies and earth and something distinctively Do, clinging to his senses, blinding him with his greed, his desire, his lust.
“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Baek hums against Do’s neck, tracing the lines of his muscles with his tongue as he slithers down the florist’s body to mouth at his nipple, fingers rough as they tug at the other.
“Mh- you might’ve mentioned it a few times.”
“‘S not enough then-”
“Can you-” Do laces his fingers into Baek’s hair. “-shut up and get back here.” He yanks, hard enough to force a whine from deep within the younger’s chest, and holy fuck, Baek is going to marry this man.
He can see it already- white tuxes, floral altar and aisle decorations, candles, wedding vows that make them cry tears of joy, and a long, long honeymoon. Maybe on a beach, somewhere warm, so Baek can admire his pretty florist’s tanned skin and pretty eyes under the sun. Or maybe, maybe a woodland wedding because Do sometimes reminds him of a forest fairy that takes to nature with tender, loving hands. Or maybe it’ll just be the two of them as they sign their papers and then run away for a few weeks to god knows where- Baek wouldn’t care if they spend those weeks in a shitty motel making love and getting wine drunk in the bathtub. Or in a fancy cabin with a beautiful view. As long as it’s with his pretty-
“-Baek. Moonbaek-ah!”
“Yes,” he blinks himself into focus, glancing down to find an amused, slightly worried Do watching him, hair framing his flushed face, his lithe fingers caressing the tips of Baek’s ears, fiddling with the bars of his piercings. “Yes. Hi. Hello.” I think I might be in love with you. Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck-
Do purses his lips, expression now sheepish.
“I don’t have condoms. Or lube.”
Right.
Something close to giddiness balls up with warmth within his chest when Do shrugs and looks away in embarrassment.
Baek smacks a wet, obnoxious kiss to the pink of the older’s cheek before climbing off the bed within seconds, already buttoning his shirt up as he hurries out the door. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” He points a finger at Do just before he runs out, toeing on shoes that don’t match and skipping down the stairs, out the front and into his studio.
He’s breathing harshly when he skurries into his room, ignoring Hades’ presence as he offhandedly thinks about hitting cardio at the gym next week (he isn’t going to, but it’s the thought that counts- cardio is the bane of his gym life existence) and startles at a voice behind him.
“Whatchya lookin’ for?”
Baek ignores a sleepy Gyujin as he scans his bedside table on his knees for his recently used lube (because as he’s recently discovered, yanking a dry one out is borderline painful, psychotic, and now he kind of wants to watch Do writhe under him as he- nope) and long-forgotten condoms, silently praying they haven’t expired when he finally has the chance to use them.
The younger looks over his shoulder when Baek cheers in triumph, a half-full bottle of cherry-flavoured lube and an unopened box of condoms clutched tightly between his fingers.
“No,” Gyujin whispers, taking a step back. Baek can’t help but cackle loudly.
“Go back to sleep, kid, you've got college tomorrow.”
Gyujin blinks back tears as the older skips away merrily.
“I need a gun.”
“And I’m about to get some.”
-
Do waits for him with a glass filled thinly with wine, his own already empty, legs curled up to his blanket-covered chest on the couch.
The sight makes his dick twitch with love.
“That was fast.”
Baek wiggles his brows at the hinted sexual innuendo. “Title of our sex tape?”
His pretty rolls his eyes fondly as Baek’s chest heaves from the exertion of running up and down, from the silliness of their situation, from the unfiltered joy that was giving his heart a major boner.
He takes the glass held out to him eagerly and throws it back with large gulps, then cups a wrist around Do’s ankles, tugs and gently lets his feet fall onto the soft rug before pressing a knee between his legs, snug against his clothed cock.
Do is eager, his hips twitching at the pressure between his legs as he pulls the younger in by the waist. The thin blanket falls away, head tilted, lips already parting as if coaxing Baek to hurry up and kiss him.
Kiss him, he does, deep, slow, hot, fast, soft, wet- so fucking wet- and Baek feels disoriented, like he’s floating and falling all at once.
But a soft whine, a faint, almost pained sound from Do forces him to pull away- only slightly though, any further and he might combust.
“Pretty,” Do whispers, blurred gaze glued to his chest. Baek was so lost in their kiss that he didn’t even notice the latter unbuttoning his shirt.
“You like it?”
It was something new that he wanted to try, something he saw online and couldn’t stop thinking about- a gold chain that connected his nipple bars. It was a simple thing, thin gold links scattered evenly with cobalt stones that made the blue hue of his black tattoos stand out even more.
The florist doesn’t reply. Instead, he leans down, catches the dangling chain with his tongue that curls to keep it in place and pulls, all whilst looking up at Baek with his doe eyes.
He’s so turned on, he might just come untouched and in his pants at this rate.
As he gets rid of his shirt, Baek says as much to Do, who has the nerve to laugh at his predicament.
Pretty, pretty, pretty.
“You’re laughing?” Baek bites back his grin as he cups those red cheeks close to his torso, the very same red that keeps him up late at night, the red he’s eternalised into his skin, held within his palm. A wistful sigh escapes the tattooist when Do leans into the touch almost thoughtlessly, tracking the lines of the fresh rose on his forearm with the gentlest touch.
“Sometimes, I think you must be insane.” His fingers travel up, past his shoulders, down his chest to the healed astragalus on his side. Baek can only blink dumbly at his florist because. Well. Is he wrong? He’s mostly distracted, however, because his touch feels like devotion, and Baek wants to use his mouth to learn what devotion tastes like and his fingers to learn what worship would sound like from his pretty.
“Then I realise I must be even more insane, because I like you too.”
“C’mon, sweets. Bed. I’d rather cum in your pretty mouth than in my pants.”
-
When Moon Baek wakes up, the first thing he notices is the fatigue that sits deep within his muscles, then the warmth of another snug against him.
It takes him a few more seconds to realise that he might be suffocating Do with the weight of his slack body, and slowly, with a stifled groan, he rolls away, stretches the tightness away, and admires the view of his florist’s marked-up back. Offhandedly, he thinks about how the latter was just a walking canvas for Baek to cover with tattoos, piercings, hickies, more tattoos, and even more hickies.
Quickly, he decides that he needs a shower and leans over the edge of the bed to pull his phone out of his trouser pockets.
Two pm??? Holy fuck, it’s late.
The awareness does little to make him move faster. In fact, he moves like a sloth, humming lowly as he searches for a towel and sets the temp of the shower to a single degree below boiling and spends atleast a good twenty minutes just standing under the heat.
By the time he gets out, towel wrapped around his waist, steam following him like a shadow, Lee Do is no longer in bed.
He gets changed, slaps on some moisturiser that he finds amongst a few other skin care ampoules he finds in his florist’s collection, walks out and finds that Do isn’t even here.
A head-scratching discovery, in Moon Baek’s honest, valid opinion.
He tries his best- he does, he swears- to not let his insecurities get the best of him as he frowns his way out, into the cold, into his studio, up the stairs and into his own place. He plans to change into comfy pyjamas, make himself a warm drink (after feeding Hades, letting him out to run for a bit, and making sure there’s something in the fridge for Gyujin to eat), curl up in his bed and rot half to death.
But the sound of a muffled laugh stops him in the corridor.
Slowly, he picks up on the sound of something sizzling quietly on the stove, the sound of water running down the sink, smell of melted butter warming the air, metal against table, and the shuffling of Gyujin’s fluffy home slippers against the tiled floors.
Huh.
He turns the corner, and the sight surprises him.
Gyujin is setting the table with forks and knives, dressed neatly (for once, looking like a living human being and not trash) like he’s just returned from college- which makes sense from his work bag thrown carelessly on the couch, in the perfect place for Hades to chew up so that Baek will have to buy another one (the fifth one this year alone).
He looks. Happy.
Then there’s his pretty florist by the stove, flipping what looks to be blueberry pancakes- his little apprentice’s favourite- on the stove with his brows wrinkled in concentration. Hades sits by his feet, resting most of his weight against the older’s side, gaze glued to Do in hopes of the blueberries on the counter.
Wordlessly, he approaches and wraps his arms around Do’s waist, sighing in relief, in something like bliss, as the latter, just as wordlessly, leans back into him.
A few pancakes are flipped into a pile before they speak.
“Took your time.”
“Hm.”
Hades whines for his attention, which he gives gladly. He owes this dobie steak, after all.
“Sit. I’ll be done soon.”
Baek doesn’t move. But he does notice a smaller bowl with more batter in it. “What’s that?” He nudges his chin in the bowl’s direction, hoping Do could feel the motion against his shoulder.
“For Hades.” Oh. “Don’t worry, I searched up how to make pup-safe pancakes.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I think you’re perfect.”
"I think y’all are gross,” Gyujin scoffs behind them somewhere. Baek is too comfortable to throw him the finger, so instead he just pulls Do closer to himself and pecks the skin behind his ear. “Nasty. Get a room.”
“You get out of my house.”
“I live here too, fyi.”
“Not anymore, you don’t.”
Gyujin gasps, appalled. Do chuckles softly. Hades whines for blueberries. Moon Baek is overwhelmed.
“It’s okay, Gyujinnie.” Do flips the pancake onto the ever-growing tower and pours more batter into the pan. “You can move in with me. I have the space.”
Or you can just move in with us.
Baek has to stop his brain. Too soon. Too much.
It seems he worried for no reason about the amount of pancakes Do was flipping, because an hour later, there were only crumbs left as the oldest watched both him and Gyujin with fear and worry as the two gobbled down the syrup-drenched pancakes with whipped cream as though they’d never been fed before.
“This is normal around here,” Baek comforts, hoping to ease Do’s worrying, which, for some reason, only amplifies when Gyujin holds the nozzle of the whipped cream can to his mouth and wolfs down the fluff with a grin. He unhinges his own jaw, and Gyujin, without even having to look, creates the perfect swirl in his gob, which he messily bites down. “I’d say it’s a rare talent, actually.”
“Hell yeah, it is.” The younger agrees.
Do sighs.
Then leans closer with a napkin pinched between his fingers. “Come here.”
Baek goes easily, seeing white tuxes and beach honeymoons, as Do frets over him.
𓇢𓆸