It was autumn and the flowers were dying.
It always went like this. Wonho would watch all through spring and summer, through his bedroom window, at the boy with dark side-swept hair. He could see, even in the dim hours of the evening, that tall elegant figure stooping down with small pots and bags of seeds and jugs of water. He watched the beautiful boy create an incredible, lively garden that buzzed with bees and ladybugs and butterflies. And every time Wonho saw that the trees in front of the coffee shop where he worked were beginning to yellow he knew that the garden would soon follow. And every year he would see, through his bedroom window, that beautiful boy picking up one of his smaller pots and touching the fading flowers. He had the boy's bittersweet expression committed to memory.
This year the wind and cold came late. It was the end of September before Wonho, while putting out food for his cat, noticed that his small willow tree, so plain compared to his neighbor's garden, was shedding its leaves. Immediately he left the can of Fancy Feast on his kitchen counter and strode to his bedroom window, an orange tabby slinking around his pale feet. He tugged the curtain aside, peering at the neighboring backyard.
The insects and birds had left a few weeks ago, leaving the usually humming garden quite silent. The boy was there. He wore loose clothes and he must have been cold, standing outside when the sun was obscured by a solid sky of clouds. His hair was messy, as if he had just woken up, even though it was three in the afternoon. As he watched, the boy ventured further into his backyard, giving Wonho a perfect view of his profile. What a pretty creature, Wonho thought. The boy went around his garden, touching flower petals that were beginning to dry, running his hands down yellowing grape leaves, gazing up at the sunflowers that were beginning to droop. He wore a strange expression of pride and his lips were quirked up ever so slightly at the corners. With every stroke of his fingers, he seemed to say Thank you for being here, I'll miss you. He didn't wee Wonho through his window. He only walked slowly in a circle touching every plant. Wonho lost sight of him as the boy stooped down. He reappeared with a pot, small enough to fit the palm of his hand. The plant, which was dried out and yellow, looked like mint. The boy's eyes were tender. Wonho stayed there, at his bedroom window until the boy returned to his house, sliding the door shut behind him.
However much Wonho wanted to, he could never seem to finish a book. Let it be a book of poetry or an encyclopedia, he always put it down before he had reached even the midpoint. Even so, his desk was overlain with stacks of paper, each one with music notes or song lyrics or short, meaningless stories. He couldn't even use the desk to write. He laid out his slanted, cramped handwriting on paper using the kitchen table ended up dumping it on his desk in his room. He never looked at them again. It was less of a hobby and more of a habit. Even when he had nothing new to put down on paper, he would recall a tune or poem that he liked, and scrawled it onto a page, which, inevitably, would end up on that desk next to his bed. He wasn't even sure if he could recall what color the desktop was. He vaguely remembered it being black from when he first moved in. Maybe it was red, or yellow like that pretty boy's hair.
Wonho's cat, whose name was Kihyun, liked to follow dangerously close at his heels. Which is why, when Wonho returned home with a bag full of groceries, he yowled as he was almost kicked in the face as his owner went to the kitchen. Wonho apologized profusely as he started putting away his vegetables and Kihyun's cat food in the kitchen.
It had been a simple day for Wonho. He needed only to pick up his coat from the dry cleaners and restock his fridge. He considered renting a movie and curling up on his couch with hot chocolate. He was quite skilled at making himself into the perfect cocoon of blankets. He looked at the still-miffed Kihyun.
"Do you wanna watch the Martian movie?" he asked. The cat glowered and stood, turning to give Wonho the perfect view of his butthole.
"Would you prefer to watch Hellboy?" he said sarcastically, but the feline only responded by stalking out of the kitchen, into the bedroom. Wonho strongly suspected that he would sleep on Wonho's chest tonight, just to annoy him.
"The Martian it is then," he muttered, getting his coat. It was November by now, and the cold wind could be cruel. However, the howling wind only made lying on the couch like the physical embodiment of laziness so much more enjoyable.
Wonho preferred to rent movies because he tended to accidentally click the wrong links on his laptop, usually downloading a virus as a result. Also, the quality of downloaded movies sucked. Or Wonho was just bad at using the internet. Either way, he found himself at the nearest redbox at the convenience store, getting a copy of The Martian. As he was paying with his card, he felt a presence behind him. He thought this was strange, because almost no one rents movies anymore but him. He took the movie quickly, wanting to let the person behind him use the machine. He turned around and found himself quite close with someone with full lips and gentle eyes.
"Oh sorry," the person said, stepping back. Evidently he had been looking over Wonho's head to see the selection of movies on the screen. Wonho smiled as best as he could, but even though the boy had stepped back, he was close enough so Wonho had to bend his head back to look at his face. Damn, he was tall.
"Sorry," he repeated. Wonho nodded and turned away. He recognized that person, of course. The person's tall stature, his lean figure, his long delicate fingers- they all screamed familiarity. Wonho decided against bringing that up. He could hear the boy fiddling with the machine as he left the store, his heart pounding.
He had a very full pantry. Always ready to make a strong cup of tea or coffee, or even home cooked, cat-friendly meals for Kihyun, Wonho always made sure that he had every cabinet fully stocked, even though he lived alone with Kihyun. He dug around for his cocoa powder and cinnamon and everything else you would need to make a badass mocha, having already set up his television and paused the DVD right before the movie would start. As the milk was warming up in the saucer, he washed out his favorite mug and set it on the counter. He shot Kihyun a warning look, as the cat was notorious for swatting shit off his counters. Kihyun only stared back with round green eyes. Wonho huffed, beginning to finish up making his comfort drink.
Wonho went to the couch and set down his cup next to the remote on the nightstand. He wrapped himself in blankets, layer after layer, until it became a bit difficult to move. He sat, propped up on the armrest and tried not to let the blankets fall apart around him when he reached for the remote and the mug. His place was quite dark, since it was almost nine at night. He unpaused the movie. Knowing he would be too comfortable to get up or pause the movie for any reason, he tossed the remote next to him, wrapping his fingers firmly around the warm ceramic cup. Kihyun jumped on the coffee table, and laid on his back, spread-eagle on top of the coasters, his eyes closing slowly. A content cat expression settled on his face, quite similar to Wonho's expression.
As it turns out, Wonho didn't watch the movie much at all. He stared at the bright screen, his eyes following the movements of the characters. But he realized, almost as soon as he turned his eyes away from Kiyhun's face to the television, that he had heard the pretty boy's voice for the first time today. For a whole hour until his eyes slipped shut he heard Pretty Boy's face in his head, heard the simple "Oh sorry" again and again, finally able to give a voice to the person he had watched care for a beautiful garden for over four years.
a/n
new updates are coming! please let me know of any grammar mistakes or any holes in the plot