the windchimes and small bell hung on the door of the main entrance tinkle on a chilly spring day, sparkling in the breeze as the customer enters the flower shop, dressed in a striped shirt and a fuzzy blue sweater that cutely covers half his hands.
“good morning, sir. how may i help you today?” jeongguk greets politely, putting aside the flowers he had gathered for an ordered bouquet. the customer is slightly smaller in size, and has fluffy pink hair like his older brother. it must be some kind of new trend, jeongguk muses, wondering if he should get some pink highlights in his mousy brown bangs. seokjin would definitely approve if he said pink.
the boy has rosy cheeks from the cold wind, and cutely sneezes as he finds the words to voice his request. “um, if you don't mind me asking, is seokjin hyung here? i'm not sure if i've got the address right,” he shakes his head cutely after he sneezes, and it reminds jeongguk of a little baby chick. he's really pretty. but why does he want to see jeongguk's older brother?
“don't worry, you're correct- one moment, please,” jeongguk replies, pushing up his glasses as he goes into the nursery to haul his brother out, busy telling the roses they are beautiful and this they should bloom quicker for valentine’s day so they know how much stock they have and need to order. “hyung, someone's looking for you.”
seokjin puts down the spray bottle and pruning shears, wiping his hands on his apron with a sigh at being interrupted. but when he sees who the person is, he engulfs the tiny boy in a big, hearty hug, both of them laughing and the boy in the fuzzy sweater giggles. he's so adorable, jeongguk thinks, heart skipping a beat. seokjin loudly exclaims how long it’s been, and the latter sweetly nods. jeongguk keeps his head low, arranging flowers, until seokjin calls for his attention.
“jeonggukie! listen up, this is my best friend from high school- you haven't seen him around because he went overseas on a dance scholarship, and now he's finally back!” the two are still tangled in each other's embrace, brimming with happiness. “meet my angel park jimin.”
“h-hello, i'm jeongguk.” he returns nervously, stretching his hand out for a handshake. jimin's hands are so small and a tad icy. he gets shy when seokjin calls him a tiny fairy, a mini angel, and smacks him without much force.
“hyung, actually, i came to get a jar,” jimin says quietly, and jeongguk's eyes widen, holding in a gasp. who wouldn't love jimin?
the two of them had inherited the flower shop, which also happened to specialise in the making of magical jars; jars that could bring back the good memories of the unrequited love, so long the petals coughed out or extracted were stored inside tightly. when opened, a whiff would transport one to those bittersweet moments- which was ideal for the dreamy and sentimental, as opposed to pure surgery since the eradication of the flowers growing in lungs would cause those fond memories to cease existence. vanish for eternity.
hanahaki was no longer frowned upon or considered an infectious or disgusting disease per se, due to an increasing cultural change and advancement in humanity. more and more people started to suffer from a one sided, unrequited love that caused flower petals to be coughed out if not returned, and these jars were growing increasingly popular despite how it would be additional cost and maintenance atop of the surgery.
having dealt with flowers all his life, jeongguk found it amazing how love was as strong as the earth and sunshine and water combined together with the seed sown, to blossom into something as magnificent as a whole garden in a person’s lungs; the preserved organs of those who had passed with a broken heart, of heartache remained behind as works of art, arrangements in museums that were left behind as testaments of an undying love.
the flowers always differed for each relationship, and it fascinated jeongguk to no end, some a mixture of blooms, some just a sole devoted flower. the extent of the growth to the point of suffocation due to to overcrowding, or some a pretty arrangement of their lover's favourites. every flower had its own meaning, its own story; and to jeongguk, it was a melancholic sort of beauty.
the happiness in the sadness.
when jimin was born, he always knew he would be a romantic. his mother knew, too, and often warned him to guard his heart, given how pure and sweet and all too loving he was by nature. but try as he might, jimin fell all too easily; he fell in love with the subtle brushes of their fingers, the soft smiles and blush high on their cheeks.
one spring day, he fell in love with a boy called kim taehyung. with his gentleness and fondness for animals and little children, the way he always looked out for jimin and made sure he ate and dressed warmly. taehyung was a model and an actor in the making, and he often bought jimin clothes and hats and accessories; they bought matching ruby necklaces, which they both wore all the time. jimin felt giddy whenever taehyung would wipe a dab of sauce off his lips, pick off a stray rice grain by his mouth and just eat it with a straight face;
perhaps taehyung was always this loving and warm hearted and tender, with all his art appreciating and jazzy, pure heart. perhaps it was jimin that assumed it meant something more when taehyung said they should get matching gucci rings as soulmates- platonic soulmates, jimin ruminates in retrospect. that's right.
he first realised when the purple crocus petals came out when he coughed, and he'd known what it was. deep down he knew it was bound to happen, just a matter of when, who, what flower. purple crocus represented the first spring, jimin's first love; naver said crocus flowers represented youthfulness and cheerfulness when he looked it up. it was purple, jimin thinks wistfully, because purple was a special colour to them.
taehyung had coined the meaning of purple to represent “i will trust and love you for a long, long time”, and that was a promise that both kept close to their hearts. which was why he came stumbling in to find a jar. a large sized one, preferably, since jimin loved with every ounce he had to give.
he had to provide a sample of his hanahaki flowers in order for a jar to be laced with suitable preservatives for them to keep the memories stored going for a long time. jimin tries not to cry as he finally picks out a jar, with intricate swirls similar to that of the lauded art piece, starry starry night.
“tae would've loved this,” jimin whispers, fingers tracing the loops engraved into the glass, “he loves van gogh.”
the two brothers remain quiet, jeongguk putting the jar away into a spot for safekeeping, while seokjin pats jimin's back soothingly to comfort him. jimin's enclosed in broad shoulders, and jeongguk feels his heart drop every time he has to witness such vulnerability and rawness in people when they come to get a jar, because a part of them just can't let go. a part of them had wanted that relationship to be real.
“hey, hyung, cheer up,” jeongguk musters the courage to say, as he holds up a purple rose to jimin, “this is for you, so smile a bit, okay?”
“thank you,” and jimin shows him a small smile, a sincere one, and jeongguk feels a flood of relief. he doesn't know what it means, thank goodness, and god bless him because jimin is such a beautiful creature. jeongguk concludes, after lowkey staring at him the entire time, that it would be impossible not to love him.
purple roses? enchantment.
the last thing that jimin remembered before the surgery and everything went black, was that time taehyung had whispered in his ear- that one night that they both held hands and got drunk together, cuddled, had twinning headaches when they woke up. it was a mess, but a good kind of mess.
“i purple you,” was what taehyung had promised.
jimin drops by more often, and he smiles so much more these days. whenever he comes bearing snacks, seokjin will yell loudly and agree that is the best thing he's ever eaten, which jimin and jeongguk will both exchange fond eye rolls and shy, blinding smiles.
after the first surgery, jimin came back and said he felt like a whole burden was lifted all his chest, shooting a wink at seokjin, who almost fell on the floor laughing at the pun. jeongguk just laughed into his hand at how jin seemed more like a kid than he did, jimin flying in all directions whenever seokjin cracked more lame jokes. good times amidst a dreary warm afternoon.
jimin is a simple, sweet boy; he still slips into satoori sometimes when he's all excited about something, or super intrigued by an import of exptic plants and starts asking a hundred questions that jeongguk would willingly answer. the flower shop is a well known one, but most people prefer to deal with online orders, only dropping by for physical collection or opting for shipping such that it would be less of a hassle. which meant that work could be outsourced by an efficient and business minded seokjin, leaving jeongguk to do custom orders and occasionally chat with the regulars while he went about with his job.
the more he talked to jimin, the more he felt a connection with the older- their likes and dislikes may not all be the same, but jimin has a certain magnetising charm about him; it's hard to resist when jimin's a beautiful flower that perpetually blooms, one that is aesthetically pleasing and sweet smelling, soft to the touch.
“jin hyung must really likes these,” jimin points from a snippet of carnations, to the rose bushes he personally cares for everyday.
“he does, he loves the roses,” jeongguk smiles at the memory of seokjin dancing and singing to the flowers so they would grow beautifully- and they did. he moves over to tend to the other plants that need watering, and jimin gets so excited his eyes light up whenever he spots a different species.
“what are these?”
“i like those, they're sweet peas, they represent delicate pleasure and tenderness.”
jimin makes a little noise of agreement, “and these? i'm guessing they're violets, they're so pretty!”
“that's right,” jeongguk smiles, and jimin shakes his balled up fists because he's finally gotten one right. it's so endearing. “they stand for faith and devotion- hyung, if someone ever sends you these, it means their thoughts of you were filled with love.”
jimin blushes a pretty pink, swatting a hand at him in embarrassment, whining that nobody will give him such pretty flowers, and his cheeks and hair make him blend in with the carnations. pink carnations that stood for 'i'll never forget you’.
jimin gets busy at his dance academy as the season changes, and this time, it's someone by the name of jung hoseok. being dancers, lots of blood, sweat and tears were shared through rigorous hours of training and practice, choreography after choreography, hour after hour.
hoseok's the team leader there, and he's funny and sweet, always making sure everybody is on par and nobody gets left behind. he teaches with an unorthodox, loud way of bambambambambam with every move he makes to emphasise the beat, and it makes jimin even fonder of his patience and sensitivity to those who are lagging and feel demotivated.
hoseok may get a choreo in 10 minutes, but he stays through 4 hours to help jimin and the other members of the team to get it right, and nail the basics. hoseok is selfless, and chooses, always, to sacrifice his own parts and priorities just to help the others shine. and jimin loves that.
they're both perfectly okay with excessive skinship, and they just flow together so well during a duet, so synchronised and mellifluous. it's like a natural sort of chemistry, the way they complement- jimin with his soft clean lines that portray the picture, hoseok with his strong fluid joints that frame the picture up.
he thinks it might be the change of seasons that's causing him to feel cough rising, the itch of his throat, but the sole petal that lands in the sink one summer day is enough of a telltale sign.
“i’d like another jar, please, jeonggukie.”
his voice is small, and jeongguk drops the roll of twine in his hands, mouth like an ‘o’ in surprise. he reaches for jimin's hand across the counter.
“hey, you okay, buttercup?” he asks, eyes frantically scanning the room but hand never leaving jimin's. there. he deftly grabs a stalk of eyebrights and tucks it behind jimin's blonde locks. cheer up, sweetheart.
“i'll be better soon,” comes the sad reply, before his words gush out and the dam of tears burst open as well. “why does this always happen to me?” he hiccups, and jeongguk strokes his hair, gives him plenty of hugs to represent seokjin and himself, before scrambling into the pantry to make jimin some honey lemon water.
“thank you,” jimin sniffles, as he latches onto jeongguk's arm for warmth and security, smile tugging at his lips when jeongguk carries his sleepy butt up to transport him into the spare store room where he himself sometimes naps in. jimin mumbles out more thanks, dozing off immediately when jeongguk covers him with a yellow blanket. jimin purrs, soft hair sinking into a pillow in fatigue.
jeongguk makes a trip downstairs to bring back a white heather to nestle in jimin's hand. protection. your wishes will come true. when jimin stirs and brings the flower close to his chest as he curls up, jeongguk's heart stutters.
jimin comes back slightly weaker than the first time, but still strong. he goes back to the flower shop right after his discharge to thank jeongguk for the jar, seokjin too. it's all filled with gorgeous yellow sunflowers- jeongguk remembers jimin describing hoseok as the sun, bright and ever shining. sunflowers that meant adoration.
autumn comes even faster, and jimin's enrolling in a university to pursue a second degree while he juggles with dance. he still carries with him the keychain plush that hoseok bought him so he won't forget his keys again, and the ruby necklace still sits pretty on his clavicles.
third time's the charm, the novels always said, and as luck would have it, he's attached to the smartest guy in his cohort, an intellectual and philosophical kim namjoon. they're both clumsy, and equally passionate about learning and studying, and it makes jimin's heart race the way namjoon is so gentlemanly and chivalrous in his subtle opening of doors for jimin, waiting patiently when he's slow;
they've both been teased for the cute height difference, since they're always finding their way to study together, having signed up for similar modules and going to the same library corner and coffeeshop. namjoon’s always calling him cute, making that scruncy face whenever he does something out of habit. namjoon says he looks like a mochi, but when he dances, it's mochi sexy. jimin doesn't quite understand- but when he tells this to jeonggukie, the younger nods with a knowing smile on his face. strange.
namjoon recommends really great books, and sometimes they stay up late texting about how they feel about the discourse within and the content, the plot twists, the nuances; jimin's heart flutters when namjoon one day makes him a playlist of songs that remind him of the smaller.
is this what true love is?
he goes back for a third jar.
jeongguk's all worried when jimin comes back with his head hung low, brows furrowed as he discards the pruned leaves and remains of stems.
“hyung…” he whines softly. jimin's not that much of sad now, it's more of weary? resigned to a fate that he'd never be able to love and being loved back. jimin looks guilty, embarrassed, ashamed, and it's a godawful look on a radiant person like him.
“you must think i'm so foolish and stupid for falling for people so easily,” he murmurs, “because i am.”
“don't say that,” jeongguk reassures, the evening glow filtering through the blinds, casting an ethereal golden glow over the shop. jimin still looks like an angel, but a fallen one. “love is a beautiful thing, you shouldn't be ashamed.”
“i'm tired, gukkie,” jimin says, “i don't know why i even bother to love, why i'm just bottling up all these feelings and memories to keep when i should just stop-” he pauses to take a deep breath, “but i find it so cruel to completely pull out everything and just eradicate everything that we had together, you know? love is faithful and love is kind- but i don't know why i just-”
jimin takes out the little satchet of petals he'd kept from this morning, the bottom of a few of which bloodstained.
“gladiolus, huh? your significant other was loyal, strong in character, a man of honour,” jeongguk muses, shuffling to transfer the petals to a makeshift pot. “when is the surgery, hyung?”
“ten days.” jimin replies wryly, “say, jeonggukie, you would make me happy if you answered my question,”
“y-yes, hyung?” the younger perks up and bounces on his heel, eager to please. it would be nice to see jimin happy again, for him to just give him a smile.
“what's the meaning of this flower?” jimin asks, pouting as he plucks it from jeongguk's shirt pocket. “it reminds me of you, but i always forget to ask for its name,”
jeongguk's chest squeezes, and he holds back a cough with a tight lipped smile, pushing up his glasses and avoiding any eye contact. breathe, jeongguk.
“that's a daffodil, jiminnie hyung. it means the sun is always shining when i'm with you. it means an unequalled, unrequited love too.”
the doctor says jimin’s body can only bear so much; if he operates again, there might be a possibility that something bad might happen, and his physical medium may not be able to withstand such intensive surgical procedures so consecutively. the medical staff are all so amazed at how jimin's the living embodiment of a heart too big, of a precious heart that never stops loving.
it's a wonder how he even survived the third, a normal person would've struggled in vain, and led to a bad ending due to how extensive and intense the flora and fauna growing inside of him were. but jimin brushes it off with his charming eye smile, his sweet cheeks;
ironically, how could anyone not love him?
“when are you going to tell him, guk?” seokjin asks worriedly during lunch hour, where he's taken his brother to a cosy tea house cafe to get some warm, soupy goodness and a fresh brew of chrysanthemum and osmanthus tea. jeongguk washes the itch in his throat down with the hot liquid, pats his chest to ease the rumble threatening to emerge.
“i don't think i will- the jar’s not big enough.”
“but jimin is already on his fourth jar-”
the meal ensues in silence, occasional picking of food for the other, initiated refilling of tea. seokjin just makes sure that he holds jeongguk close to him, just in case. his brother's been feeling under the weather lately.
jimin's operation takes place tomorrow. he'd come asking for the biggest jar jeonggguk had to offer, and seokjin had bolted in all the way from his rose bushes to check up on jimin. he's more frail, and he seems more lethargic than usual. gaunt, skinny; worn out. his black hair matches beautifully with his eyes and leather jacket, a gift from the man causing all the flowers, min yoongi.
a producer, a rapper, a writer; jimin tells jeongguk that yoongi loves coffee, he loves music with his whole heart and he's married to it. he tells jeongguk that yoongi has the sweetest gummy smile, and that they both love cats- yoongi looks like one too. yoongi adores leather jackets, he loves all things black. but he likes big blue rings, bites his nails when he's nervous, he likes taking naps and sleeping too, jimin says softly, smile breaking down into a more distorted frown.
“he told me he liked sweet things and kumamon,” jimin finishes, “he wrote me a song too.”
this time, jeongguk lifts jimin's chin to look into his startled honey drooping eyes. “that doesn't make sense,” he utters, “if he liked sweet things, he should've loved you!” he feels something deep in his chest, his stomach laden with butterflies.
jimin laughs, and it reminds jeongguk of the golden bell they hang by the door. “you're too nice to me, gukkie.”
“i'm just stating some facts-” jeongguk argues back, glasses perched on his nose cutely, and jimin keels over into his embrace, laughing. “thank you for keeping me company, is there anything i can do for you?”
“live,” jeongguk answers immediately. “stay alive and come back for me to make you a bouquet. i'll make you any sort of bouquet free of charge!” jimin gives him a high five, and promises.
somewhere along the way jeongguk asks if surgery hurts, but jimin shakes his head, bangs swishing along. “after a while you get used to it- it feels like a numb, painful and yet painless void. but don't worry jeonggukie, hyung will come back for the free bouquet!”
“okay. you promised!”
You're My Fifth Season
time flies, but jimin comes back. it's been exactly a year since he first came with pink hair and that fuzzy sweater, and he still glows even though the scars on his chest say otherwise. but jimin's a bold, brave lover. one that deserves all the love in the world.
he flies in, running, with some white jasmines. “gukguk! you love these so i got you some,” he puffs, glancing around, “oh w-wait. you run a flower shop.” he answers himself, bashful. “this is so embarrassing… i bought you flowers when you run a flower shop, i don't even-”
jeongguk just laughs along at jimin's pouty lips and whines, as if they were back to normal. the surgery’s gone well, and jimin's recovering much speedier than expected; although he does have to keep a precarious front to try and abstain from falling in love again, for the sake of his health.
on second glance, jeongguk looks funny. jimin squishes his cheeks together, deep in thought. jeonggukie’s gotten paler and skinnier, especially since he's wearing black today and tucking his shirt in. his waist is so tiny, jimin worries. is he alright?
“gukkie, have you been okay? i didn't drop by in a while, but-”
his voice isn't normal. the words are snappy and biting, but it comes out as lacklustre, comes out as hollow. he takes a baby blue oversized shirt to use as a makeshift jacket. “sorry, hyung, i have to attend to something important, so i-” he halts halfway, face like he's about to sneeze, and dashes off to the room of jars, while jimin stands there, head tilted to the side. jeongguk's acting all funny and it's puzzling. he's usually gentle and patient, but now he seems like a different person altogether.
“this is for you.” jeongguk rasps, soothing his own chest, “i made it myself. for you.” he hands the candle over shyly, jolts of electricity when jimin's cute fingers brush over his own veiny callous ones. it's a candle, wax melted together with calla lilies and lavender.
“it smells incredible!” jimin sighs, sniffing the scented candle in a jar, “thank you so-”
“light it up when you feel cold, okay? it'll keep you warm.” jeongguk's eyes are shining as he reaches for the handle of the door, all wet and glittery. “it burns for you as much as i do.”
a tear falls.
“guk, did you remember where i put the shears-” seokjin saunters in, spotting jimin with his hands held close to his heart, mouth agape and eyes so wide he looks like a lost puppy. “jimin, i'm sorry, i didn't know you were here,” he gingerly approaches a stock still jimin.
“guk’s left already?” and jimin nods dumbly, “i- i don't understand, he just- he-”
seokjin nods in understanding, holding jimin's trembling hands, leading him to the room where jeongguk had just tumbled out of.
in the middle of the room lay a large jar of calla lily petals and blooms of lavender. magnificent beauty, jeongguk had once told him, and lavender meant devoted love.
the glass jar is as minimalist as possible, plain as contrasted to all of the beautiful jars they had offered jimin, all the elegantly designed ones up for sale. and in all the plainness of the jar, four lines engraved on the corner of it stood out. the four dates that jimin had came in, asking for a jar.
a stream of tears fall.
“mr jeon, i'm afraid that there is one stalk that cannot be removed,” his doctor explained, pointing to the x-ray scans, “we've successfully removed and rescued every single bloom in your lungs, which was pretty extensive, i must say,” and jeongguk sheepishly sips on some water, “but there's one red bloom that has grown around your windpipe left.”
apparently that one red rose that couldn't be removed due to the stalk of thorns cascading around his windpipe; any attempt of removal would be life-threatening, and for now it would stall time unless his unrequited pining got too severe. a stem of his love for jimin would still remain;
the doctor’s words echo in his head whenever he closes his eyes: “the rose may vanish if, at any one point in time, the person you love finally loves you as well.”
he catches his own crestfallen expression in the mirror, a stem of his love for jimin would definitely remain.
it's a week before valentine’s day. it's been four days after his surgical procedure, and the nectar and ambrosia provided by seokjin, his personal alarm clock, has gotten him into shape quickly. the flower shop will only get busier, with valentine's and the lunar new year coming up.
the bells tinkle, the windchimes announce the arrival of jimin, who's wearing the outfit that jeongguk had once said was cute- a fluffy white sweater with sweaterpaws, and a ribbon that wrapped around his neck like a choker. he's beautiful.
“good morning,” jeongguk greets, and he notes that jimin's eyes are all puffy and red and swollen, as if he's been crying all night. “h-hey,” jimin replies anxiously, “gukkie, you remember that flower bouquet you promised me?”
jeongguk drops the bunch of geraniums in his hand. true friendship, they represented. maybe this was a sign that they too would break apart-
jimin apologizes for startling him, but jeongguk reassures him when jimin tries to help pick them up. “so, what do you have in mind, hyung?” he's trying to force a smile, and jimin's heart breaks to smithereens; jeongguk is handsome and beautiful when he's immersed in his flowers and arranging them, when he's laughing, when he's teasing his older brother; not when he's staring at jimin like this.
“i would like you to make me a custom one for valentine's day- i have someone in mind.” jimin runs a pink kittenish tongue to wet his lips, finding the list of flowers he had decided on.
“let's get it, then,” jeongguk murmurs back, but it gets harder to breathe, as if there's a vine of thorns enclosing round his windpipe, as his lungs give way, chest constricts; jimin names all the flowers he once told him that he liked- those were the very flowers that he would have made into a bouquet for jimin, if only they were meant for each other.
“heliotrope, what else?” jeongguk whispers, voice breaking down as the tears come streaming down his face. morning glory, lily of the valley, sweetpea, valerian, white jasmine- those were only some of the flowers he would've loved to present to jimin. and now jimin was out there about to give someone heliotropes- eternal love; it was simply too much to bear.
“you l-love him lots, don't y-you,” jeongguk stutters through his tears, “you've never given any of the others a bouquet, or even a flower.”
“he's been through a lot,” jimin says softly, staring into jeongguk's eyes, both thumbs caressing his cheeks, catching his tears like falling stars. “every night i light my candle and think of him- and i know he's suffered, and i'm so, so sorry.”
“you shouldn't be, i love you for who you are.”
jimin tackles him into a big hug till he's lying straight above om jeongguk's chest, blushing as red as the roses that had taken the plunge with them. flowers and leaves are entangled in their hair, and they laugh. a wholesome, happy, genuine laugh.
“jeongguk, what on earth happened, i heard that loud-” seokjin emerges with a whole bucket of flowers from the storage office, exasperated but softens into a smile when he sees the young lovers playing with each other's hair on the floor. it's a weird predicament but it's tender and cute.
“i'm giving you ten minutes, you hear? there's a lot more shipments we need to catch up on,” with that, seokjin disappears back to take stocks.
“i'm volunteering to help!” jimin yells in his direction, and a smile can be heard in his voice when seokjin yells back an okay.
“jeonggukie, i went to learn, and i put these together for you.” jimin leans on the taller’s shoulder as he completes another signature dozen rose bouquet. jeongguk hums, doing a 360 inspection on the flowers to make sure they're good to go. “jeonggukie, pay attention to me,” jimin pouts, squishing his cheek harder on jeongguk's shoulder. he sighs, suddenly lifting jimin up to sit on the counter, taking some baby’s breath and placing it into jimin's hair. glorious and breathtaking indeed.
“jeonggukie,” jimin starts again, shoving a myraid of colourful flowers he'd taken, a stalk each, and bunched them together with ribbon. pure love, desire, you are the love of my life, radiant charm, undying devotion. it's impressive for an amateur, and jimin's cheeks are so rosy they look like peach blossoms. “you know i love you, right? i'm sorry i was stupid and took so long-”
jeongguk's really good at manhandling him, pulling him into a bridal carry, and jimin hides his red face in his chest. “i can't believe you gave me flowers telling me you loved me when i was pining for other people, and i didn't know, and i feel terrible, gukkie.”
“that's alright, you love me now, don't you?”
jimin kisses him sweetly on the lips to prove his point. he smells like magnolia and cherry blossoms, and kissing jimin feels like spring, a new beginning; it feels like a summer breeze, with autumn leaves falling around them. it feels like drinking hot chocolate and holding hands on a bitterly cold day; they don't even need to make snow angels then, if jimin's right by his side.
he's an angel and a part time fairy. jeongguk is his white heather, his protection. his wishes did come true.