❖ flower shop⠀

@❛⠀● : jung noeul。 the way her pulse nervously drums against her ears overwhelms her senses, forcing her to envision everything in a world of black and white from the moment she opens the door to the moment she enters the flower shop. the passage of time was a doppler effect on her nerves, what was a continuum of blue light felt like the slow, static red light to her. and yet, when she stepped foot into the shop, the silence became the earmuffs against her beating heart and slowly she had taken a deep breath. the difficult part was done, minyoung felt better now.

"ah-" she begins to speak, until she stands frozen before the florist and closes . another wave of emotions washed through minyoung, but this was more subtle. though it was to the point where tears involuntarily dripped down her face - and she didn't understand why. however meeting the eyes of the person before her was enough for her to remember someone from a distant past. even though she couldn't understand why. however she finally regained the courage to speak after hastily wiping away the tears from her eyes. "i'm so sorry, that was extremely rude of me. i don't usually cry like this when i meet someone for the first time."

minyoung chuckles a little, hoping humor could dispel the awkward mix of emotions she had manifested into the air. taking a deep breath and moving closer to the counter, she looks at the placard and nods in understanding. she makes a mental note to learn some sign language for the next time they meet. "hi i'm..." she pauses for a second, remembering the alias she uses as an author, "i'm seol! and i actually made my way here because someone had given me flowers from this shop a while ago and i really liked the way it was arranged. so...i was hoping to order a new arrangement for my office, would that be alright?"

@❛⠀◌ : kim rua。 Noeul would've liked to argue with Rua's supposed ill-fated self, but that would simply take a lot of time for him to write what he wants today. Not for the first time, he wishes for a softer, more feminine voice—so then, at least, it would be easier for him to pull off this disguise that Manwol had initially suggested lightheartedly at first, and it was Noeul himself who thought it was a good idea. More than a decade later, he wonders if it's still a good idea, though he supposes that it is, no? He was seventeen when he left the palace, and now he's nearing thirty, still yet to be found and dragged out of Heunjeong.

And so, he doesn't speak. He only sends a mildly apologetic look toward Rua's way. He is happy to hear though, that his bouquets were of service to her. Nothing gives him more satisfaction than his customers liking the bouquets he creates, simple letters that his tainted hands have so carefully put together. He then nods at her words—she did say to keep it modest, after all—and he begins working, matching the violets with a few pieces of small flowers with red petals. He's careful not to make the red stand out too much, just to compliment the violets.

Once he's done, it's a simple bouquet, modest in its appearance, but the colors are pleasing to the eyes—at least, to Noeul's perspective. He looks at Rua then with a bit of an expectant gaze, and he gestures toward the bouquet he's made, tilting his head to one side, as if to ask if it's to her liking.

@❛⠀● : choi woogeun。 Noeul's eyebrows raise at Woogeun's answer—though not quite the answer Noeul is looking for, he is also aware that Woogeun still has yet to familiarize himself with sign language. But Manwol himself sent Noeul a meal, huh... The florist's expression obviously softens, and he reaches for the food, carefully pushing away some of the petals that have fallen all over the counter. He decides to play a little nicer for now, since Manwol has so sincerely sent a meal his way even when the old man really doesn't have to.

Even after all these years, Manwol still seems to treat Noeul as a son of his own.

Noeul reaches for his sketchbook then, flipping to a cleaner page—usually, he uses one page per conversation to keep the privacy, even if the conversations are often the same mundane exchange in the flower shop. In clean penmanship, he begins writing: "Thanks for bringing my lunch to me. And before you even say anything, I only asked what kind of food it was, but I should've expected that it's ramyeon anyway." He pauses, wondering if he's done speaking—but he continues writing anyway, taking his time to make it easy to read. He shows it to Woogeun, with an additional line: "Were you just going to drop off the meal here or were you going to join me? This is a lot more than what I usually eat."

@❛⠀● : jung noeul。 A triumphant and gleeful smile appears on Rua’s visage as she reads what Noeul has written on her sketchbook, the volume of her voice raising a bit towards the end. “You’re too sweet, Noeul-ah. I just really wanted to thank you for all the arrangements you’ve made for me ever since. You could say they have not failed me – not even once! And I’m so used to being ill-fated, so…” She lets her sentence trail off, feeling a bit conscious about whether she should be that chatty towards the florist. It’s not like she’s paying her to talk to her – there are other customers who might need her artistry after all. Maybe those customers could actually pay Noeul for her time, but Rua is incapable of that.

So, she quietly watches Noeul’s figure be swallowed by the flowers as soon as she finishes stating her request, then averts her attention towards a display of white lilies – she dreamily sighs after then peels her eyes away from it. The woman attending to her comes back with the flowers she mentioned earlier. Noeul gestures at the simple bouquets, Rua comprehends it as her cue to choose which among those she wants the violets to be inserted to. The older female chews on the inside of her cheek a bit before answering, “They’re all pretty and I trust your judgment. Just maybe…whichever is cheapest, I guess?” She punctuates her statement with a weak but bitter laugh.

@❛⠀● : jung noeul。 Woogeun can only blink as a response to…well, he’s not quite sure what Noeul had signed. He feels a sensation akin to boiling inside his chest. Though he can’t quite pinpoint what it is he’s actually feeling at the moment, he was sure there is exasperation in the mixture. Perhaps there also was embarrassment tucked in the creases – that after months of actually attempting to learn sign language (as per his sister’s orders), he still cannot comprehend anything. He frowns then for the nth time, then sighs before responding, “I don’t know what you’re saying but this is from Manwol-nim himself,” he could care less if the female asked a question, made a comment, or if there is gibberish even in sign language and that she was just doing random gestures to make it seem that she’s saying something.

After he finished settling the content of the lunch bag on the counter, he affixed his gaze towards the person on the other side of the counter. Woogeun ponders as to what made Noeul so special that Woohee wanted him to continue taking care of the lady. The Handler remembers Woohee’s teasing from before – mentions of wanting to have a little sister just because he didn’t quite get her at times, or that he himself would’ve been more pleasing to look at if he was a woman. Obviously, those statements are dabbed with jest, but Woogeun still can’t help but think if their life could’ve been so much better if he had been a woman—or really just…not him at all.

@❛⠀◌ : kim rua。 Noeul blinks rather dumbly at Rua's words, signed rather clumsily despite the obvious careful effort. When the words finally register in his mind, however, he can feel a warm veil spread across his cheeks, and he averts his gaze, hoping that Rua doesn't notice the way he does so. But he can tell that Rua is waiting for a response, having worked so hard to memorize how to sign it for /him/—and so, he reaches for a big sketchbook (one that he's kept to decorate with dry flowers sometimes, when he's bored enough in the flower shop and there is no one he has to entertain). In careful, clean penmanship, he writes, deciding that he /can/ be a little nicer, when Rua has tried so hard: "Thank you, but we both know you are prettier than all the flowers in this shop combined."

And Noeul means that genuinely, turning the sketchbook to Rua's direction. He places it back down on the counter, hands once again moving toward the bouquet wrap he already had prepared. Luckily, the last customer he'd had has already left—satisfied, of course, perhaps a little too enamored with the final outcome. Violets, Rua says, and Noeul moves to collect the necessary flowers. It's easy to tell that she doesn't particularly feel... fond of the receiver of these flowers. Perhaps it's part of his job to understand the human behavior, but the truth to her feelings still often spills into her words—a part of him wonders if he's allowed to comment on it, if only to help.

But that requires talking, and he isn't particularly in the mood to talk long conversations with his hands at this moment. He simply nods at her words then, before he comes back to the counter, violets carefully held in his hands. He places them on the counter, and he gestures toward one of the simpler bouquets lined up as display, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

@❛⠀● : choi woogeun。 Noeul wonders if ignorance will let him get away with not speaking to the not-really-a stranger who has made it a habit to—well, not necessarily a habit, but has decided to give Noeul the unnecessary act of kindness such as this one. Of course, he knows who Woogeun is. He has heard far too many stories from Woohee not to, really, even some facts that Noeul isn't so sure he would like to have learned at all. See, he doesn't know what went through Woohee's head and what the older woman had told Woogeun for the latter to be so attached to Noeul like this, but he doesn't need nor desire this attention.

(He doesn't know how to deal with it, when he still has to learn how to accept people's kindness and attention like this, despite his many, many years of working in Manwol's Ramyeon. It was something Manwol had said Noeul would learn, but perhaps the old man would be disappointed to learn that Noeul still hasn't learned it too well.)

HIs hands stop where he finishes tying a ribbon around the bouquet, securely keeping the flowers just the way he likes them. An array of colors adorn the bouquet so enthusiastically requested by one of the younger customers, who Noeul remembers is supposed to come and pick it up in approximately two hours. He closes his eyes briefly as he catches a brief sight of the bag placed atop the counter. Well, one thing that Woogeun definitely got from Woohee is stubbornness—or shall Noeul call that as something else?

When he opens his eyes, he finally meets Woogeun's gaze. His face is void of emotion as he lifts his hands to his chest, signing: "What food is this?"

@❛⠀◎ : yi minyoung。 routine is something that noeul is familiar with, and dare he say it—/comfortable/ with. there is something calming in the mundane state of his every day life, so utterly boring in the way he lives it despite the occasional assignments (but even that has become routine at this point, a thought he never would have thought he'd have back when his place still belonged to the palace, so large, so spacious for such a gilded cage). this has been his life for the past decade, and he no longer wishes for something new as he carefully chooses the next flower he puts in the bouquet he's begun to randomly create, a result of his hands' urge to simply keep moving.

the change that he certainly doesn't expect comes in the form of an unexpected client. noeul turns his gaze toward the entrance, the windchime alerting the florist of a visitor. carefully, he puts down the unfinished bouquet on farthest corner of the counter, and he tucks a lock of hair by his ear as he moves to greet the seemingly new customer. his hand reaches for a placard that says 'good day! how may i help you?' with a small note that the florist is mute (cheerfulness, of course, courtesy of the younger lady who thought that noeul is a little too cold toward the clients—though in his defense, he isn't what they came here for in the first place anyway).

but he stops when his eyes land on the client's face, now fully registering the fact that this isn't simply any other clients. he would know those eyes even from afar, no matter how long it's been since he's seen them so close and personal. immediately, he's hit with nostalgia—and his hands twitch in their place, the urge to pull the other into his arms a little too tempting for a moment—but instead, his visage only softens, a hint of a smile on his lips appearing.

he cannot speak, no, but he does lift the placard in hopes that he may be as welcoming as how his younger colleague had wanted him to be.

@❛⠀● : jung noeul。 “Noeul-ah,” The woman does not even look at her surroundings – not caring if there was another customer around or if she’s disturbing the very person she called out for. When Rua spots who she was looking for, she beams and repeats her casual greeting, louder this time, “Noeul-ah!” The moment the other lady turned toward Rua, she immediately tried to recall the sentence she kept on practicing to express through sign language: You’re as pretty as the flowers. The regular customer carefully and slowly does the gestures she memorized, then tilts her head sideways after – a small and rather embarrassed smile painted on her face, “I’m sorry and I hope I got that right! I’ve been wanting to say that for quite some time now,” Rua’s innocent eyes had a hint of nervousness to them as she waits for Noeul’s response to her compliment. The older of the two simply wanted to be as sincere as possible towards the florist she grew rather fond of – her comforting presence always making Rua feel relieved from her everyday troubles.

Perhaps if one were always with the flowers, they learn how to speak its language—it’s beautiful. Rua loves beautiful things, and finds a different kind of solitude among them even though she’s not actually alone. “Ah, by the way, this uh, order—as usual—is not for me. I’ll be giving it to one of my neighbors – well not really a neighbor, but one of the tenants. I’ve asked around and I think she might like violets,” she delivers her request for a bouquet rather monotonously – her borderline dislike for the person who would be receiving it faintly seeping through her words. “Don’t—” Rua pauses to debate with her inner voice. Considering that she doesn’t even have the luxury to buy a bouquet for herself, she should request something that wouldn’t cost her much. “—make it too uhm, fancy.” She supposes the cat is out of the bag, watching Noeul’s expression to her statement.

@❛⠀● : jung noeul。 ‘Take extra care of her for me, Woongie,’ the statement keeps echoing inside Woogeun’s head as he unbuckles his seatbelt – pausing after to let a deep sigh escape his lips. He wasn’t necessarily keeping tabs, but the change of season indicated by the flowers situated in front of the shop made it hard for the male to ignore the evident passage of time. It was the start of August, he knows that much – a year ago he was slowly preparing to end his military service, eager to return to the normal life he planned out for himself. Yet, here he is, staring at a carefully crafted mugunhwa display – and breaking his gaze from it towards the insulated bag placed on the passenger seat wouldn’t have him deep diving into the illusion that he was living the life he wanted.

Woogeun exits his car and another sigh is let out. He carefully picks up the meal bag, fearing that even though he’s certain that the containers are tightly sealed, somehow, some way it might spill. ‘What if it just did,’ the Handler thought to himself, concluding it could give him a chance to elude the situation he found himself in at that moment. Nonetheless, the guilt-inducing words of his sister had him in a chokehold of sorts – so he didn’t even dare. Instead, he walks toward the entrance of the shop, stands there still for what felt like a couple of minutes, and then realizes how stupid he looks to those who spared him glances.

The tall male questions his actions – the unlikeliness of them happening if he was in his right mind. He also questions, why the would he not be in his right mind even? The (unfortunately) familiar sound of the windchime somehow toppled down the queries stacking up inside his head, allowing him to clear his throat and speak, “I brought you your food,” Woogeun didn’t even realize that he spoke perhaps too softly – as if he was trying to not disturb the flowers.

Or rather, trying to not disturb the woman among the flowers.

He is quite surprised how easily he spots her – maybe it was the long blonde hair, or the (again, unfortunately) familiar workwear…or was it just Noeul’s overall presence that makes her appear a bit more vibrant, a bit more enticing than the dozens of flowers that was enough to hide her from plain sight. Woogeun almost scoffs at his musings – he avoids doing so by approaching the counter and placing the bag on top of it, slowly ping it open, then tries to catch the female’s attention again, “Noeul-ssi, you can ignore me all you want but don’t ignore the food—it’ll get cold,” he proclaims.

@❛⠀● : jung noeul。 the breeze guided the gentler scent of natural flowers to her nose, the honeyed scent seeming to clear her mind of the various concerns that plagued her mind. though it was not enough for the young woman standing below the awning of the flower shop to hesitate from going in. an ordinary person would probably not worry much and walk straight in, however she couldnt help but play out all the scenarios that could occur in her mind. the reason being that it wasn't every day when a princess would waltz into a flower shop without some sort of fuss following her. even in arriving to the destination, minyoung had been extremely careful in making sure she didn't catch anyone's attention. as she wandered through the streets of heunjeong, the young lady'd only hoped that if someone had recognized her they would leave her be.

she didn't know what came over her. it hadn't been long since she came back to heunjeong, so when she saw her secretary change the flowers for the vase in her office she was overwhelmed with a sense of nostalgia. specifically the flowers reminded her of someone in her far past, someone she missed dearly. impulsively, she asked who the provider of the flowers were and the startled secretary divulged the name of the flower shop.

after some research on minyoung's end, she ended up in this very position. her palms were sweaty, shaking slightly as it hovered above the handle. honestly — minyoung didn't know what to expect anymore. "if i've come this far i might as well go in," she grumbles, annoyed by her own hesitation. though before she could continue to debate with herself, minyoung was already one foot inside the flower shop.