シクラメン
autumn

It was Wednesday –– the peak, the hump –– and Jungkook really just wanted the weekend to come. He was tired, exhausted even; every little thing seemed to require so much more effort, even just talking really took it out of him. Taehyung wasn't much better, moving around in a lethargic manner. Now, Seokjin could see the toll this ordeal was taking on his employees. They were emotionally drained, which was leading to physical exhaustion. But neither would go home, when he offered to man the shop for the day –– whether it was pride or dedication, both refused to let their issues interfere with their job.

When lunch came around, Seokjin stepped out with a look directed to Taehyung that said, "I'm giving you two some alone time –– figure things out." Having spent enough time around his cousin, the younger florist was able to read the message. He gave a resigned nod back, accepting that today, whether the result's good or bad, there was going to be a conclusion to this issue. He was going to have to figure things out, with Jungkook.

The brunette had planned to go out to Yoongi's once again, already on his way to grab his coat when Taehyung called out to him. He froze immediately, a weird bumpitty-bump going on in his chest at the sound of the simple, "Jungkook," coming from the pink-haired florist. Turning on his heels, he faced the older male –– well, his body faced him, his gaze was directed closer to the ground.

"Yeah?" He made eye contact for a second, before dropping it. He couldn't look at the older male, not properly, not for long.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah." Need, maybe, but Jungkook certainly didn't want to talk. Confrontation was something he wanted to avoid, to forget this every happened and just go back to being friends and only friends. His pride still stung from the last talk between them, the memory of tears pouring down his cheeks fresh in his mind. Whenever he remembered, his brain would scold him –– boy's don't cry, it would say, making him feel even worse; only weak boys cry.

"Let's go into the back room, it's more private." The younger followed the effeminate male into the room, playing with his apron –– clenching it in his hands, before releasing it, only to bunch it up again. Taehyung leant against the table, thin arms crossing over a thin chest as he looked back at Jungkook. There's a moment of silence, neither wanting to say anything. But then Taehyung cleared his throat, breaking it, "So, have you reached any sort of... conclusion?"

Jungkook shook his head, knuckles going white as he gripped his apron. His fringe fell over his eyes, hiding them.

"No." He said, voice small and choked. "I still don't know... I-I spoke to Grandma and–– and sh-she–– she," Jungkook's bottom lip quivered. God, he was such a baby. "If I'm gay, I–– she won't be happy. She'll disown me and then I'll be out on the streets –– I'll be a disappointment to the family, not even a part of that family anymore. I-I-I––"

The tap turned on again. It did so so easily these days.

Guilt immediately blossomed in Taehyung's chest as he watched the younger begin crying, thinking maybe he'd addressed this a bit too harshly. He moved over to the brunette, pulling him into another hug he probably needed. As he felt the boy shake in his arms, the effeminate florist had a moment of realisation, or remembrance: this was the first time Jungkook was experiencing anything like this. He was probably like a newborn babe, in some sense, confused and alone in a whole new world.

The pink-haired florist looked down at the younger (also realising that in this moment, he seemed so much smaller, too), before reaching down to lift the boy's chin. Jungkook looked up at him, eyes red and runny.

"I really, really like you, Jeon Jungkook. Like, I'd call it love but I don't want to add unnecessary pressure on you, so we're sticking with really like." He said, which for some reason seemed to surprise the younger as his eyes grew wider. "And I understand that you're probably not as comfortable with your sexuality ― or at least the possibility you might not be straight ― as I am, and I'm happy to help you through the whole thing of figuring it all out. But I really, really need you to make a decision, Jungkook, because right now I'm stuck in a will he, won't he kind of zone and I just want a definite answer so I know whether to party like there's no tomorrow or start the moving on process."

"I―"

"No, don't give me an answer right now, I'm not done." There's a pause. "I'm about to throw caution into the wind because I'm really curious. Feel free to slap me or whatever."

And then Taehyung leaned in. Before Jungkook can even comprehend what was happening, there's a pair of soft lips pressed against his own probably less soft ones. Taehyung's soft lips. Something about that just set off the tap again and the fat, salty droplets trickled down his cheeks. He couldn't bring himself to pull away but also couldn't quite bring himself to admit that this did feel rather nice, and maybe rather right. So instead he's stuck in this state of internal conflict, unable to fully enjoy the kiss while it lasted but not really repulsed (by Taehyung) either.

But in that kiss, something seemed to click. There's something about it that allowed Jungkook to reach his decision ― to reach some sort of conclusion.

――＊――

Taehyung didn't get his answer until the following day. It started like what had become the norm ― he woke up feeling as tired as he had when he'd gone to bed, with a sense of dread about going to work, and with that ache in his chest that only Jungkook had seemed capable of producing. Except there was also a tiny sliver of hope, maybe today would be different. Maybe today, he'd get his answer ― a reciprocation of his feelings, if he's lucky.

He entered to a quiet shop, small murmuring in the back room. The effeminate florist paused, slowly pulling his coat off, and listened. From where he was standing, it was impossible to make out what the voices were saying. But he didn't have to try and listen in for long, as the voices soon stopped and the two other florists emerged. Jungkook had his gaze once again lowered, and didn't acknowledge anyone as he left the shop. The small greeting Taehyung gave him was completely ignored, whether on purpose or not, the older couldn't be sure.

When the pink-haired male shot a confused look at his cousin, all he got in return was a shrug and, "He wasn't feeling well. I told him to go home early."

Taehyung gave him an, "Okay," back and the day progressed like it once might have Before Jungkook, or BJ for short: an initialism the florist might have laughed at if his mood hadn't been so dampened by this unreciprocated love. If he wasn't careful, it might even blossom into a severe case of hanahaki.

The answer however came after lunch, which the pink-haired florist had been sent out to collect from Namjoon. He took is time, trying to admire the scenery as he once might have done. Unfortunately his mind kept wandering back to that one brunette ― what's he doing now? Is he alright? I hope he's alright... And eventually he realisesd it's futile to even think of anything else right now. He was absolutely and utterly obsessed (he'd prefer the term 'in love') with Jeon Jungkook.

This affection came to a crashing end when he walked into the florist, completely quiet and devoid of Seokjin. This wouldn't have been that unusual, and really wasn't that unusual ― but the flower sitting at the counter was. All made up into a devastating bouquet were a bunch of striped carnations. Fifteen, to be exact, but Taehyung couldn't make out quantity from where he was standing. The message was still there, clear as day.

No. That's what both the flowers said and what the florist was thinking. Maybe, just maybe, they were for another customer. Maybe Seokjin had just left them there, waiting for pick-up. But the pain that was growing in the male's chest was telling him otherwise. No, those were meant for him. Jungkook hadn't been feeling sick, he'd probably just quit and Seokjin let him go.

Upon admitting this to himself, the florist did the only thing that seemed logical in the heat of the moment. He grabbed the flowers and chucked them, as hard as he could. They fell to the ground, pretty red and white petals scattering. Taehyung was probably crying, he's not sure. He stomped on the flower, determined to destroy every single atom of this rejection. Maybe if he did that, it never happened. But alas, that was impossible and Seokjin walked in when he was busy crushing the flowers into mush.

The older male took his cousin, now pulling him into a hug. Yeah, he was definitely cry ― sobbing as though his heart would break, although he was pretty sure it already had.

Never in Taehyung's young life had he been so utterly heartbroken.

――＊――
note : i don't think i gave this story the climax it deserves... but i've tried writing this, like, a gazillion times (or five times, at least) and this is the best i can manage. so sorry :\

on the upside though, at least there won't be anymore waiting centuries for me to update...