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蒲 (cattails) winter
(note: just to be clear, some time has passed between this chapter and the last.)
Taehyung felt like a stalker as he stood there, staring into the window of the bustling restaurant. It was cold outside, even bundled up in his many layers it was still rather biting. But he stayed there, admiring the waiter inside from this distance.
Jungkook looked happy as he took the customer's order. A wide smile, one the florist had often seen before everything went wrong, rested on his lips and he seemed to be chatting with all the customers before disappearing into the kitchen. He'd appear a few moments later, carrying some dishes in his hands. These would be placed at customer's tables, where he would say a few more things before disappearing again.
The florist sighed. He shouldn't have come. Some stupid part of him had thought that seeing the boy, watching him go about his new job, would bring him some sort of closure. That if he was able to see that Jungkook had moved on, he himself would be able to. But it hadn't. It'd just upset him further. The dull ache in his chest increased again.
The male turned and walked off, not even noticed by the younger. As he walked, he looked around at the street. It was getting cold again, winter announcing its emergence. It might snow soon, the florist thought as a chilliness set into his bones. Snow would be nice; he'd always liked the way the white covering looked, even though it was freezing and a pain to move around in.
It did end up snowing. A few days later, while Taehyung was in the shop. He hadn't even noticed, so engrossed in his job ― which was probably a good thing because it also distracted him from the fact his life was suddenly Jungkook-less and his overdramatic brain equated that with a life devoid of a point. But when it came time to go home, he naturally did notice. He stepped out into the snow, foot stomping unintentionally into freshly fallen and unmarred snow. And that is exactly when he noticed, when his foot came down and imprinted its pattern into the perfect snow. He paused. Bringing his foot back, revealing the footprint, he stared.
There's a moment of realisation, his brain turning the simple footprint in snow into a metaphor. Jungkook is the snow, he reasoned. As if to test this theory, he stepped in it again. His foot molded the snow into the shape of his shoe, a perfect replication of its sole. His foot is society, he continued on with this theory. Jungkook was unmarred snow, only to be tainted by the foot of society, to be molded into what was expected. He couldn't help it ― couldn't even fight it.
And in that moment, Taehyung got his closure. With this came a strange warmth, maybe caused by the fact that he could put a reason to Jungkook's actions ― he had a sense of understanding, and acceptance. Just like that, the florist's heart began picking up its tiny shattered pieces. Slowly, of course, barely even noticeably to the male, but the reparation was occurring.
Maybe there was a point to Taehyung's life ― maybe meeting and befriending and loving Jungkook hadn't been the pinnacle of it all. After all, he was still only young, had his whole life ahead of him.
The pink-haired male continued forwards, feet pressing down in the whiteness. It's amazing what a simple snowfall can do.
Jungkook had been finishing up work when the flower showed up. He was heading out of the family restaurant, which he'd started working at not long after quitting his florist job, feeling slightly tired after a busy day of waiting on customers. The brunette might not have even noticed the white flower bouquet, had it not been his job to bring in all the outside chairs and tables.
He paused at first, thinking some unfortunate customer must have left it there. Planning to throw it out, he picked up the bouquet ― this action rustled the tag, making it visible to him. Instantly he recognised the tag, the familiar logo of the flower shop he'd worked at etched across it. The waiter held it, turning it over so he could read what had been written. Before even actually reading it, he recognised the handwriting: these were from Taehyung. That hurt him more than the words curled across it in neat cursive ― it's alright. Those two words were all that was needed, the flowers said the rest. I forgive you.
In some vain hope that maybe Taehyung was still around, the boy looked up. There was no pink-haired florist to be seen. Disappointment blossomed in the brunette's chest, like some small bud in the early days of Spring, growing bigger and bigger.
"Jungkook! Hurry up with those chairs!" His grandmother called out, dragging the waiter out of his thoughts and regrets. He placed the flowers back down on the table, carefully lifting it so that the bouquet wasn't damaged as he continued on with his job.
Jungkook was bringing in the last table and chairs when a small smile spread across his lips, fond memories with Taehyung replaying in his head. At least this time they weren't remembered sadly, but fondly. Maybe things hadn't worked out, but those months weren't without value. He'd learnt things, grown as an individual.
And he'd met one heck of an individual (maybe even fallen in love, or like, with one) ― one he doubted he was going to forget any time soon.
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note : okay so i was kinda getting sick of writing this and i do think i fluffed up the ending but now that it's actually ended, i'm kinda sad... hopefully you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it, even though the ending might have left some of you unsatisfied (although there was a point to it).
but thank you for reading and supporting this, it's meant a lot to me. have a good day and all (:
