Saeran's interest in flowers started from a young age, a way to cope with what was around him. He found the comfort he needed in them, the distraction he so desperately wanted when learning everything about each flower. Because even when everything in his life felt like it was falling apart, when it felt ugly and undesirable, he could always find solitude in his garden. He had always felt a strong connection with himself and his floral friends. It only made sense that he'd start a flower shop after his brother pushed him to, knowing full well that this was his passion and that he would help any way he can.

Over the course of the years, he had arranged flowers for all sorts of reasons. From celebrating a graduate in pursuit of a brighter future, to celebrating someone's life on their birthday, to mourning the loss of someone at a funeral. But the one he felt most eager to arrange were the ones between lovers. Whether it was for Valentine's, first dates, or anniversaries, he had those down to a science, partly because he had been making them for so long, but another part was that he would hope to give it to someone himself. Although he had his brother and flowers, he still longed for someone to share himself with.

"Saeyoung, can you deliver these to the address I gave you earlier," he more said than asked, placing a handful of bouquets down on the counter.

"What's the magic word?" the red-head teased back.

"Let me rephrase that," Saeran replied, "can you please do your job?"

"Fine," he said, picking up the flowers before examining them, "a lot of daffodils, huh?"

"Yeah, I think they're for congratulating someone on a new job," he said, looking over a stack of papers for what he was missing. Saeyoung looked at him quizzically.

"New beginnings," Saeran said, answering his unspoken question, "now get to it."

"Sure thing boss," he replied, running out the door with the bouquets.

"Don't call me that!" he shouted, but it didn't reach him before he left, leaving him alone in the shop.

As he sifted through orders, he heard the bell on the door ring, indicating of someone's presence. He looked up to greet only to fall silent.

"Hi," you spoke, breaking the silence as you approached the counter. He couldn't explain why, but his palms started to grow sweaty, throat dry as he tried to reply, but couldn't even think of saying a simple 'hi' back. You almost looked too bright to him, unsure of what he meant by that or why.

"Uh, I'm sorry, were you closed?" you asked, interrupting his thoughts only to realize he hadn't actually said anything.

"No, no we're very open, what can I help you with?"