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His affinity for plants was something small at first. A little cactus in his window, a small bed of tulips in his backyard. There was a sense of tranquility from his plants, a cascade of calm that soothed his worries and made him forget where he was, even if just for the moment.
A degree and five years later, he had taken this sense of calm and a little bit of perseverance to open this small shop. Sandwiched in between a family-owned kimchi restaurant and a second hand electronics store, it definitely wasn’t much. But it was Taeyong’s very own flower shop.
Yes, perhaps the building quality was a little questionable, and maybe three of the windows had cracks, and so what if it had taken Ten an hour to get here (he blamed that on Ten not understanding directions more than anything else). This store was what Taeyong had worked hard towards, so he was going to care for it and make it something beautiful.
He spent the next few weeks cleaning out the entire building, renovating the top floor into his own little apartment, adding in the necessary temperature control for his plants, painting the walls with the lightest shade of pink to make the place look alive. Hours were put in daily, half of them wasted shooing Ten away to buy more paint or fertilizer, then sending Yuta out when Ten inevitably brought the wrong item. But finally, it was beginning to come together.
The sign on the door said the hours were from 8 PM to 8 AM, and Taeyong was always there with a cup of coffee, a smile, and a suggestion that getting roses for a first date was perhaps too much. He lets Ten crash in the apartment every now and then, the dancer often not wanting to return to his own apartment late at night. Taeyong didn’t mind, especially since Ten helped mind the plants whenever he was there.
It takes a few months, but Taeyong has finally achieved a decent stream of business. His regulars, the woman who just wants some flowers for home, the husbands who get flowers to appease their wives because they spend too long at work, the shy girl who always gets a singular flower for her tutor, they are always there to brighten his day. But they’re not the only ones who come to visit Taeyong’s shop.
One night, a college student comes in wondering if he has any succulents for his tiny dorm room. “My grandmother says a little green always helps when you’re stuck,” the boy, Mark, explains. There was also something about how he was failing his biology class but Taeyong just quietly hums as he looks through his small collection of succulents.
He had been shifting from one foot to the other, casually peering around the store when he suddenly stops. “Um, sorry to bother you, but who is that?” Mark stage-whispers to Taeyong, who had turned around to see Mark, pale as a sheet, weakly pointing at Yuta, who was sitting in the corner staring out the window with his chin in his hands.
“Oh him? That’s just Yuta, he’s a friend. He does that sometimes, you can ignore him,” Taeyong explains as if it was something common-place, before handing Mark a tiny brown pot with a little pink succulent in it. “What do you think of this one, it doesn’t need much watering and adds a little splash of color?”
Mark had just stared at Taeyang with his mouth slightly agape, as if he couldn’t believe some guy in dark leather creepily staring out a window was normal. But in the end he had left the store with another reassurance that Yuta was completely fine, two succulents because Taeyong couldn’t let him leave with just one, and a daytime delivery job (this one was because Ten’s motorcycle was not a reputable delivery vehicle, no matter what Ten said).
A couple of days after he began working, Mark began commenting on some man who always walked past the stoor in the morning then left soon after he realized it was closed. But before Taeyong had even commented on the man, Ten had just sighed and walked out of the store, mumbling something about handling the guy.
Taeyong was only slightly worried that he would have to bail Ten from the police that night (it, unfortunately, wouldn’t be the first time), but instead he was pleasantly surprised when Ten walked into the door with another boy who looked like a tree compared to Ten.
“Taeyong, Sungchan. Sungchan, Taeyong.” Ten’s introductions had always been brief. It turns out Sungchan was not, in fact, scoping out Taeyong’s store while it was closed to figure out how to rob it (which was good because Taeyong’s new potting soil was expensive), but instead got confused between the AM and PM signs on the door. Taeyong, being Taeyong, took it in stride. He was curious how Ten had met someone so optimistic and easygoing, but appreciated Sungchan’s help in reaching items that Taeyong couldn’t from the top shelves.
Mark and Sungchan hit it off, with Mark happily sharing all the little facts about plants he was slowly learning while Sungchan helped him carry them to his car. It was a good system, and whenever Taeyong saw them working together, he felt a little joy in the small community he had created.
Of course, perhaps his celebration was a little premature when it felt as though the community would not stop growing. Mark had become a guide of sorts, introducing many new people to the store. Sometimes he wondered if Ten scared the customers, with his cutoff leather jacket and slightly crazy hair, but in Taeyong’s mind, everyone had a little crazy in them and it was their choice if they wanted to share it. So Ten stayed, and even the regulars had no idea if he worked there or not..
(“Did you see the guy in the leather jacket? I wonder if he works here, he’s so cute!”
“... He was watering a plant with soju, maybe find a different crush.”)
One night, Taeyong had come upstairs after closing the store to find someone even younger than Mark crashing on his couch. Taeyong had almost tripped over the expensive looking sneakers neatly placed by the door as he went to ask Ten if he knew the stranger. As it would turn out, Ten vaguely knew him because at one point, back when Ten was actually in school, they had met at some dance group and happened to exchange numbers. He didn’t have the heart to tell the kid to stop messaging him, especially since Ten was the only one he knew at the time who spoke English, so when Yangyang had asked for a place to crash for the night, Ten said yes.
Taeyong had thought that perhaps he should be upset that his theoretical roommate who didn’t even officially have a room was letting a stranger huddle on their couch with Taeyong’s third favorite quilt, but well, Taeyong didn’t have the heart to say no to someone that young (too young).
He does make Yangyang move into Ten’s room though, because Taeyong sitting on him accidentally was only funny the first two times.
Occasionally, weeks after the fact, he’d wish that he had told Ten that it was not okay for Yangyang to crash because he was tired of hearing him play video games late at night or of having to make extra coffee before he slept, but truthfully, Yangyang fit. He was the little piece of eccentricism and ego that they needed, so in all, Taeyong couldn’t be too upset that he was “temporarily crashing.”
It helped that Yangyang understood that plants needed water and sun, not vaguely concerning amounts of soju.
A few nights later, however, it had apparently been Taeyong’s turn to bring someone new into the store. It started with “Yuta, can you order the supplies for the week,” and ended with Taeyong venturing to the only 24 hour convenience store near them at 2 AM for coffee. There was absolutely no coffee left in their store besides the small stash they keep for customers, which meant that Taeyong needed to purchase caffeine in some form before Ten woke up and cried from caffeine withdrawal.
He had been trying to understand where his online map was trying to lead him when he had bumped into someone and fell back. There were the awkward few moments of both of them scrambling to get their things before they both stood up. The other man, who was somehow even taller than Sungchan, was quick to apologize.
“No, it’s alright, I was too distracted. I’ll just let you be on your way,” Taeyong had said, but just as he was about to go, the man asked if Taeyong was heading to the convenience store down the road.
“Considering I live with two coffee addicts and my home is devoid of coffee, that sounds about right,” Taeyong joked. And as it turns out, this was Taeyong’s stroke of luck because Johnny, as he soon learned, happened to know a quaint little diner that was open at the late hour and made phenomenal coffee.
So, Taeyong headed back to the flower shop an hour later with Johnny, a container of coffee that would last even Ten two weeks that he had convinced the barista to give him, and Doyoung, the barista who publicly Taeyong announced could use some plants in his life (but whom privately Taeyong heard crying quietly in the background as he and Johnny had walked into the diner).
Doyoung didn’t stay, not like Yangyang, but he stopped by every now and then with coffee, sometimes just something simple and other times fancy frappuccinos that even Taeyong knew took a long time to make. He never pries, but slowly Doyoung tells him little parts of his life and Taeyong is always grateful that he made the right decision that night.
(“You know, I am supposed to be at Yonsei right now, getting my degree in business management.”
Taeyong hums.
“But instead, I accepted SNU’s acting scholarship,” Doyoung bitterly laughed. “Sure, I didn't have to pay for college but my family disowned me and now… I’m just drifting.”
He doesn’t continue, but he doesn’t have to. Taeyong knows how this story ends.)
Johnny doesn’t make himself a permanent fixture, quietly explains that he’s only in South Korea until the end of the semester when he heads back to Chicago. But he and Mark bond over enthusiastic discussions conducted entirely in English, and Taeyong feels his worries ease a little, knowing that Mark has someone for him, even if it was just for a little bit.
One night, Mark comes in even though he’s not scheduled to work. It’s a slow night, so Taeyong makes him some hot chocolate to counter the bitter winter cold and lets him stand and admire the flowers for as long as he needs to bring up what he came to say.
Eventually, Mark asks his question and Taeyong wasn’t entirely sure what he was anticipating it to be, but it certainly threw him for a loop. “Hyung, do you have a life motto?”
Taeyong didn’t really have a life motto. Perhaps years ago he did, maybe while he was still in high school preparing for the college entrance exams, but now?
He didn’t want to tell Mark this however, so he told him something that he used to say to himself while he was building his shop: having a dream was the most important thing above all else.
To be quite honest, Taeyong wasn’t sure if it helped Mark at all, but Mark nodded, thanked Taeyong for the hot chocolate, then slipped out quietly. It’s not long before Taeyong begins to notice the few college students who come to his shop, lingering, maybe even choosing a plant if they wanted one. But he doesn’t say anything, but lets Mark come to him.
“They needed me hyung, I couldn’t just let them be on their own,” and Taeyong thinks of Doyoung, of Yangyang, and says it’s okay, just add some snacks to the weekly supply list. If he hears Mark refer to this ragtag group of kids (and they’re really just kids) as Dreamies, well, who was he to spoil their friendship?
Sometimes, Taeyong wants to step in. Be the responsible adult and ask these kids where their parents are, why they are alone in Seoul, why some of them flinch when they hear someone behind them. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t comment about Jisung, who was far too young to have to suffer, and how he’s already taller than Taeyong and even Sungchan, and he’s not even sure what upsets him more: his unknown past or his height. He doesn’t really know much about the others; Jaemin and Jeno seem to know each other from long ago and Taeyong wonders what that’s about. Chenle and Renjun have become fast friends with Yangyang, chattering away in Mandarin Taeyong can’t even pretend to understand, and that Ten pretends not to know. Taeyong decides he’s okay with Donghyuck, who likes to show off but often helps out as he does, and who at least seems to have read a Wikipedia page about plants sometime recently.
Still, he really doesn’t know much about them; he doesn’t ask and Mark doesn’t offer details. He orders sleeping bags online, has them neatly stacked in a corner of the living room. If Mark gives him an extra wide smile the next day, Taeyong doesn’t comment on it.
Sungchan, ever so polite, brought two friends with him once. Shotaro looked so young, he had to visibly stop himself from reacting when Sungchan told him that Shotaro was actually older than him. He still gives Shotaro a cute pink tulip.
Jungwoo, on the other hand, was a character. He owned a hair salon a few streets down, and had been kind enough to offer some of the Dreamies haircuts, if they wanted it. For yet another reason Taeyong wouldn’t ask about, Jisung was terrified of scissors, but everyone else was appreciative of the gesture. Whenever Jungwoo would leave, Taeyong would try to give him cash, but Jungwoo always turned it away. He even found it when Taeyong hid it in his bag or in his wallet preemptively. So eventually, Taeyong gave him a free succulent, which Jungwoo humbly accepted.
When Doyoung learned about the Dreamies, he began to bring extra coffee and sometimes, he would bring bags of pastries with him (he claims they were ones the diner had to get rid of at the end of the day anyway, but Taeyong can see how fresh they look). He occasionally brings his friend Jaehyun with him. He never lingers, but always takes the free coffee Doyoung gives him. Through some quiet chatter, Taeyong learns that Jaehyun and Doyoung are in the same acting program at SNU, but Jaehyun had graduated a year ago because Doyoung took a semester off to save up money. He didn’t seem to have had any large opportunities yet, but he was optimistic when he told Taeyong that they would come to him one day. Taeyong appreciated the optimism, he could use a little optimism, and wished Jaehyun luck.
However, the flower shop not only got baked goods from Doyoung, but also from some mysterious benefactor whom Taeyong didn’t know. Johnny had been over and was nibbling on a muffin, and when Taeyong had questioned where he had found it (Taeyong hadn’t made muffins that week, money had been a little too tight to get flour), Johnny had confusedly told him they were from the basket on the counter.
And sure enough, there had been a basket of chocolate muffins sitting innocently on Taeyong’s counter. Taeyong knew Ten did not suddenly develop an interest in baking (considering he once tried to heat food with his hairdryer) and he didn’t know of anyone else who could bake. Doyoung perhaps, but he wasn’t secretive about the baked food he brought, and even then, it was mostly cookies or pastries, not muffins.
Yet, week after week, baked goods continue to appear while Taeyong was asleep, a new type of muffin each week. Ten had somehow figured out they were related to Yangyang, but they weren’t directly from him, which left Taeyong puzzled. Yangyang himself said nothing, but one day Taeyong hadn’t fallen asleep because he was trying to readjust the flower shop’s budget, when Yangyang walked into the apartment with another guy about Ten’s age.
“Oh hyung, you’re actually awake! Guess that means the secret is out,” and that’s how Taeyong met Kun, Yangyang’s Mandarin class TA who made amazing muffins.
Sometimes, Taeyong wondered how his midnight flower shop had become a safe haven for so many. And sometimes, Taeyong made sure to leave the door unlocked for whoever needed it that night.