"She gave me a rose, but it was her touch that truly bloomed in my heart."

JUNGKOOK'S POV

My palms are damp, clammy with a nervous energy I can't seem to shake. I wipe them repeatedly on the rough fabric of my jeans as she brings the car to a smooth halt, parking it with an ease that feels almost mocking in contrast to my own restless state. The entire drive here, I've been prattling on about flowers like some bumbling fool. Flowers. Of all things. What was I thinking? Girls don't fancy men who garden-or at least, that's what I've always believed. And someone like her? She'd never expect someone like me to have such a hobby. I've made a complete spectacle of myself, rambling on and on without even giving her a chance to speak.

Y/n unbuckles her seatbelt with a soft click, the sound snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts. She steps out of the truck, her movements graceful and unhurried. I take one last deep breath, the air filling my lungs like a lifeline, before I follow suit, my legs feeling oddly unsteady beneath me.

The place she's chosen to park is a couple of blocks away from the café, so we have to walk. The day is pleasant, the kind of crisp, cool afternoon that makes you want to linger outdoors. The chill in the air nips at my skin, but I barely notice it. All I can focus on is the quiet rhythm of our footsteps, the way she walks beside me, her presence both calming and electrifying. The silence between us isn't uncomfortable, but it's heavy with unspoken words, and I find myself stealing glances at her, wondering what she's thinking.

As we pass a flower shop, my attention is momentarily captured by the vibrant blooms displayed in the window. I'm so engrossed in the sight that I don't notice she's stopped until she steps in front of me, her hand raised in a gentle gesture. "Stay here," she says, her voice soft but firm. Before I can respond, she darts into the shop, leaving me standing there, bewildered.

Two minutes later, she emerges, holding a single rose in her hand. She extends it toward me, a warm smile playing on her lips. "Here," she says, her voice tinged with a sweetness that makes my chest tighten. "I got it for you."

I stared at her, stunned. She got me flowers? The thought is so unexpected, so utterly foreign, that I can't quite process it. My mind races, a flurry of questions tumbling over one another. Shouldn't I be the one giving her flowers? Isn't that how it's supposed to work? I'm about to step into the shop to rectify this apparent imbalance when she places a hand on my chest, halting me mid-stride. Her touch is light, but it sends a jolt through me, grounding me in place.

"I don't want any flowers," she says, her voice steady, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that feels almost disarming. "I just want you to take my flower."

I blink at her, still trying to make sense of it all. She doesn't want any flowers? The thought is so contrary to everything I've ever assumed that I'm momentarily at a loss for words. I open my mouth to ask if she's sure, but she cuts me off before I can even form the question. "I'm sure," she says, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "I don't want any flowers."

It's as if she's reading my mind, anticipating my every thought before I can even voice it. I look down at the rose in her hand, its petals a deep, velvety red that seems to glow in the soft light of the afternoon. Slowly, almost reverently, I take it from her, my fingers brushing against hers in a fleeting moment of contact that sends a shiver down my spine. My face grows warm, a blush creeping up my cheeks as a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "Thank you," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

She nods, her smile widening, and we begin to walk again, the rose cradled carefully in my left hand. The silence between us is different now, lighter, as if the weight of my earlier nervousness has been lifted. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, marveling at the way the sunlight catches in her hair, the way her expression is so open, so unguarded.

As we walk, she breaks the silence, her voice soft but filled with a playful edge. "I know what you can give me instead of flowers."

I turned to her, my curiosity piqued. There's a grin on her face, one that makes my heart skip a beat. I tilt my head in question, waiting for her to elaborate, but instead of answering, she shows me. She reaches for my right hand, her fingers sliding between mine with a natural ease that takes my breath away. The warmth of her hand against mine is electric, sending a rush of heat through my body that makes my cheeks burn anew.

She swings our connected arms gently, as if we've done this a thousand times before, her smile content, her eyes shining with a quiet joy that I can't help but mirror. I don't know what this is, what we're doing, but I know one thing for certain: I love it. I love the way her hand feels in mine, the way she looks at me, the way she makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world who matters. I never want this moment to end.

But, as all good things must, it does. Far too soon for my liking, we arrive at the café, the cheerful ring of the doorbell announcing our entrance as Y/n pushes the door open. I glance around, taking in the cozy interior. It's not overly crowded, but there's a lively hum of conversation that fills the space, a comforting backdrop to our quiet little world. No one pays us any mind as she leads us to an empty table, and I'm grateful for the anonymity.

She sits down, and I follow suit, the rose still clutched in my hand as I place it carefully on the table. The café has menus already laid out, and when we're ready to order, we'll simply go up to the register. My gaze drifts to her face as she pursues the menu, her expression thoughtful, her brow slightly furrowed in that adorable way she has when she's deep in concentration. I could watch her like this forever, I think, my heart swelling with a warmth I can't quite name.

"So, what are you going to get?" Her voice pulls me out of my reverie, and my eyes snap to hers. She's looking at me, the menu still in her hands, her gaze expectant.

I clear my throat, embarrassed that I haven't even glanced at the menu yet. Slowly, I pick it up, my eyes scanning the options without really seeing them. I'm too distracted, too caught up in the moment to focus on something as mundane as food. In the end, I decide I'll just get whatever she's having.

"What are you going to get?" I ask, deflecting the question back to her.

She hums softly, her eyes flicking over the menu once more. "I think I'm going to get a grilled chicken sandwich with pepper Jack cheese, a side of fries, and if I have room, I'll get a slice of strawberry shortcake. If not, I'll just take it to go."

It sounds like a delicious meal, but honestly, I'd agree with anything she suggested right now. All I can think about is the way her hand felt in mine, the way she looked at me when she gave me that rose, the way she makes me feel like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.

"I'll have the sa-" I begin, only to be interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

"Y/nie?"

At the sound of her name, she turns toward the man standing before us, her brows furrowing slightly in recognition.

"Bogum?" she questions, her tone unreadable.

"Oh my God, I can't believe it's you! How have you been?" The man-Bogum-laughs, his smile stretching far too wide for my liking. There's a warmth in his gaze that unsettles me, and I immediately dislike him.

"What do you want?" Y/n asks coolly, her voice laced with irritation. "Can't you see I'm on a date with my boyfriend?"

My breath hitches. Boyfriend. She just called me her boyfriend. And she said we're on a date.

Even if she only said it to get rid of him, I can't help the way my heart stirs with foolish hope. For a fleeting second, I let myself imagine that she truly means it.

Bogum finally looks at me, his eyes widening in surprise before he takes a subtle step back. He lets out an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck before turning back to Y/n.

"Can we talk outside for a second? Please?"

I stiffen. I don't want her going anywhere with this guy. There's something too familiar-too comfortable-about the way he speaks to her, and the fact that he called her Y/nie doesn't sit well with me. I haven't even called her that yet.

She exhales sharply, rolling her eyes before rising from her seat. Disappointment floods my chest as she walks off with him, but my gaze remains locked on her. Even as she steps outside, she conveniently stops right in front of the large window facing our table, leaving me a perfect view of their interaction.

Though I can't hear their words, I don't need to. Y/n's expression screams annoyance, while Bogum looks desperate-pleading, even. I clench my fists beneath the table, my jaw tightening as irritation bubbles beneath my skin.

Then, just as she turns to leave, he grabs her. His fingers clamp around her upper arm, and he pulls her back.

I don't think so. I just react.

The legs of my chair screech against the floor as I shoot to my feet, my pulse roaring in my ears. But before I can charge outside, Y/n swiftly punches him-hard, right in the jaw. The force sends him sprawling onto the pavement.

I stand frozen, my mouth slightly agape. The entire café watches in stunned silence as Y/n strides back inside, effortlessly flicking her hair over her shoulder. She doesn't spare a glance at the people gawking at her; she simply retakes her seat, picks up the menu, and skims it with utter nonchalance-while I remain standing, still processing the fact that she just floored a guy nearly as big as me.

I finally lowered myself back into my chair, eyes fixed on her. "Who was that?"

She barely glances up from the menu. "Oh, nobody," she says dismissively. "Just a pest trying to crawl back into my life."

Something in her tone suggests she doesn't wish to elaborate, so I let it go-at least for now. I exhale and lean back, but a small smirk tugs at my lips. "Well," I mutter, "at least you punched him really hard."

She finally looks at me and smiles-a real, satisfied smile. "Great. I'll go put in our order now."

As she walks toward the counter, I find myself wondering: Where the hell did she learn to throw a punch like that?

The moment she returns, I blurt out the question.

"Oh, that?" She gestures casually toward the window where she just took down Bogum minutes ago. "I take a bunch of combat classes. It's fun. I bet I could put you on the ground too."

I let out a short laugh-not because I doubt her skills, but because I know I have a lot more muscle than Bogum. Sure, she managed to knock him down, but me? I'd probably stumble, maybe even get bruised, but she wouldn't be able to fully take me down. I've been in my fair share of fights-mostly for being in the wrong place at the wrong time-and I know how to hold my ground.

But the second I laugh, her expression shifts. She looks at me as if I've just personally offended her.

Shit.

I immediately regret it, my hands flailing as I scramble to fix my mistake. "No, no, no! I didn't mean it like that! I just-"

She cuts me off. "Alright. Get up."

I blink. "What?"

She stands, cracking her knuckles. "While we're waiting for our food, let's step outside." Her lips curl into a dangerous grin. "I know I can do it, but after you laughed in my face? Yeah, now I really want to."

And I swear-I have to do a double take. For someone looking at me so menacingly, she still somehow manages to look absolutely gorgeous.

Before I can process my impending doom, an unfamiliar voice chimes in from the next table.

"I'll bet twenty bucks she can't," a guy with a cocky grin says, leaning forward in amusement.

Y/n scoffs, turning to him with a glare. "You wanna be next, assh-"

But before she can finish, the girl sitting beside the guy-who looks like she could be his twin-cuts in. "I'll bet fifty she can."

The guy's grin falters.

At this point, the entire café has gone silent, eyes flicking between Y/n and me with anticipation.

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. And just because I really want to see her smile again, I decide to give her exactly what she wants-even if I end up being the one on the floor.

"Alright, Y/n, let's take this outside," I sigh, a playful smile tugging at my lips.

I genuinely have no idea why I'm so eager to be punched, but for some inexplicable reason, I am.

Y/n practically beams as she claps her hands together, leading us towards the exit with an excitement that is both endearing and slightly concerning. The small bell above the door jingles as we step outside, and we come to a halt in the very spot where, just moments ago, she had floored Bogum. Only this time, I'm the one standing in his place.

I glance back at the café window, and sure enough, nearly everyone inside is crowded around, eager spectators to the impending spectacle. Their faces are pressed against the glass, some amused, others watching with bated breath. I shake my head with a chuckle.

"Alright, Y/n," I say, rolling my shoulders, "whenever you're rea-"

I don't even get the chance to finish my sentence.

Pain explodes across my jaw before I can so much as blink. The impact is brutal, knocking me off balance, and the next thing I know, I'm on my arse, my hand instinctively cradling my jaw as a dull ache spreads through my face.

A sharp burst of laughter fills the air, followed by enthusiastic clapping.

I look up, dazed, to find Y/n practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, throwing mock punches into the air as though she needs any more adrenaline after knocking the marbles out of me.

"I told you!" she cackles, grinning so wide it crinkles the corners of her eyes.

Despite the throbbing pain in my jaw, I start laughing too-only to immediately regret it when the ache sharpens, cutting my amusement short.

I glance toward the window again. The café patrons are a mixed bag-some are staring in open-mouthed shock, others looking positively amazed. The arrogant idiot from earlier is begrudgingly handing over money to his smirking sister, and then my gaze shifts beyond Y/n, landing on a little boy walking past with his dad. He's also laughing at me.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

I groan dramatically as I push myself off the ground, dusting off my jeans. "I think you just broke my jaw," I joke, though there's a definite tenderness lingering in the spot where her fist landed.

Her laughter falters, and in an instant, she's in front of me, closing the distance with concern etched across her features.

Both of her hands come up to my face, fingers ghosting over my skin as she carefully tilts my jaw, testing the movement. The warmth of her touch sends an entirely different kind of shockwave through me, one that has nothing to do with pain.

She exhales in relief. "No, it's just sore," she confirms, still studying me. "You didn't lose any teeth, did you? I did aim carefully, you know. I didn't want to ruin your perfect smile... or your pretty face."

I freeze.

Did she-did she just call me pretty?

"You think I'm pretty?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

She nods without hesitation. "Definitely. I said you had a nice smile too, don't forget that."

I stare at her, utterly dumbfounded, my brain working overtime to process her words. She thinks I'm attractive? Surely, that's what she meant, right?

A slow, almost incredulous smile spreads across my face as I look down at her, warmth blooming in my chest.

And then, without overthinking it-without doubting myself for once-I ask the one thing I never thought I'd be bold enough to say.

"Can I kiss you?"

Words count- 3005

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