#20200107

Even after the commotion of the grand opening, the shop was still bustling with customers. The sidewalk was almost always covered with fallen flower petals, and Changbin only saw you through the giant front window, snipping stems and tying ribbons. He considered stopping by to say hello and to get to know you better, but he could never bring himself to walk inside. He thought he had a decent idea of what you were like anyway.

Keyword being thought.

He certainly hadn't expected you to discuss tattoos with you on an early Friday morning. You had strolled into the parlor with no warning and started up a conversation about getting a hand tattoo. In fact, he was so speechless, he let you walk him through your whole design. He finally snapped out of it when you started pulling up pictures on your phone.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I don't do hand tattoos on people without any other tattoos." He explained, "It's a job stopper, hard to cover up, most people do a bad job maintaining it, it's pretty painful, et cetera. It's just not a good idea, especially for your first one."

There were a lot of things he predicted you to do after. Unzipping your windbreaker and revealing a full sleeve tattoo of flowers, leaves, and birds was not one of them.

He gaped at the sight. You-- your full sleeve, he corrected himself-- were gorgeous.

You were clearly enjoying his expression. You rotated your arm to let him get a better view. There was a slight smirk on your face when you said, "My boss won't care if I get ink on my hands."

Right. You were the freaking owner of the flower shop.

"So how about it?" you asked. You slipped your windbreaker back on and fluffed your hair out, sending the smell of jasmine his way.

He couldn’t think properly. There was a series of ‘um’ and ‘uh’ from him before he managed to get out, "You need to make an appointment first.”

It was then decided that you would come next Sunday evening, and you cheerfully left the parlor. Changbin, however, slowly sunk into his chair and replayed the scene in his mind. The dramatic reveal was his favorite part, and combined with that smirk? Wow, that was hot.

--

The week was long, and every time he heard the bell on his door chime, he hoped it was you. His obsession became so obvious that Jisung started opening and closing the door just for the fun of it.

"Stop that," Changbin growled over the sound of the needle. He normally would have refrained from sounding so gruff around a customer, but Minho was a regular and a friend.

Minho raised his head and an eyebrow. "Stop what?"

"Not you. Jisung." He spat out his name like a curse.

Across the room, Jisung laughed and replied back, "Our boy has a crush on the florist next door! She's coming in on Sunday."

"Ah, I met her during the grand opening. She's a sweetheart," Minho said. "She tried to give me a flower crown when I was in line for cookies."

"Oh, so that's why you were late?" No, he was still not over being screwed out of a flower crown.

"You would have done the same," Minho shrugged. "What's she coming in for anyway?"

Jisung, now standing next to Changbin, answered, "Hand tattoo of a flower. Right?"

Changbin nodded. Jisung was supposed to be doing some paperwork, but Changbin was too busy with the outline to say anything.

"You are so whipped. What happened to your 'no face, neck, or hands policy?'" Minho asked.

"She's got a full sleeve!" Jisung proudly revealed, as if he were the one with the beautiful artwork.

"Really? But she looks so… innocent."

Changbin wiped off the excess ink. "You should have seen her when she took off her jacket to show me." The image was still burned into his mind, and his heart raced every time he thought of it.

Jisung snickered. "You are so into her, it's kind of funny. You've only talked to her once."

"Twice actually. Once when she first opened, and a few days ago."

"Oh, so you're keeping score now?" Minho teased. He chuckled at Changbin's glare. "I understand. She's a cute girl with a tattoo who also has her own business. What's not to like?"

"Exactly," Changbin mumbled under his breath. Louder, he said to Jisung, "Go finish the paperwork."

Jisung grumbled, but he made his way back to the front desk.

With Jisung gone and doing his job, it was quiet again between Minho and Changbin. Minho returned to his phone, and Changbin continued to ink. They could hear Jisung softly cursing across the room. An hour later Changbin ran the needle across Minho's ribcage one last time before wiping the skin clean.

"See you in a couple weeks," Changbin said as Minho stood in front of the mirror and admired his newest ink.

"Yeah. It looks good." He slipped his shirt back on. "Have fun on Sunday. Try not to drool too much."

Changbin only nodded in return. What was he supposed to reply to that?

"And try not to screw up on her tattoo."

The audacity of him. Changbin sharply gestured to the door. "Bye, Minho."

--

Sunday arrived, and so did you. The last client left two hours ago, and Changbin had spent the remaining time sweeping the floor and  pacing. You came right on time with a small floral arrangement in your hands. He looked at questioningly.

You smiled and said, “It’s a thank you gift. I thought it would only be fitting as I own a flower shop, have flower tattoos, and will be getting a new one.”

“It’s… pretty,” was his lame reply. It was the truth, but he couldn’t help feeling like he should have said more. He cleared his throat awkwardly before suggesting you sit down at one of the stations.

You sat down and tugged up your sleeve. The edges of an inked leaf peeked out from your sweatshirt, and Changbin was instantly reminded of glorious piece of artwork on your arm.

The process was painful. He felt you stiffen a few seconds into the tattooing, and he immediately felt sorry for you. The design you wanted trailed up to your index finger, so he knew you weren't even at the worst part.

"How's business going?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

"Pretty well," you replied. You were now tapping your foot. "Goodness, this hurts. And don't you dare say I told you so."

"I won't," he promised.

There was some light conversation between the two of you. Changbin asked about your life to distract you-- no ulterior motives, he swore-- and you gave long, winding answers to distract yourself. That was how he found out that got your first tattoo at nineteen, recently moved to the city, got recommended District 9 by your old tattoo artist, Bang Chan at Miroh Tattoos, who said he knew the owner--

"Chan? I know him!" was probably not the smartest thing to say. He could hear Jisung laughing at him.

You dryly replied, "I would think so.” Then you sharply inhaled as Changbin started to ink your finger. “He said you were good at black and white, so I checked out your Instagram to make sure.”

“Lived up your expectations?”

“Well, I am sitting in your parlor, paying you to stab me with a needle.”

“You’re not as sweet as you look,” he mumbled. Once he realized the implication of his words, he hoped you hadn’t heard them.

You let out a short laugh. “Everyone thinks the flower girl is nice and innocent until they hear her speak. You’re not the first one,” you assured.

He felt his ears burn and pretended to be intensely focused wiping off excess ink from your hand. “What’s the reason for getting a hand tattoo?” he asked to change the subject.

It was a very obvious attempt, but you didn’t say anything about it. “I’ve always wanted one. They look cool, but a lot of artists don’t do hand tattoos without any other tattoos to show for it.”

“So, you got a full sleeve in order to get one?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” you said. At his alarmed face, you laughed. “I’m kidding. I like my sleeve, and I wanted to get it done anyway. It turned out really good.”

“Chan’s great,” he agreed.

“So are you.”

His face heated up, and he saw you smile out of the corner of his eye.

Three hours later, the flower on your hand was complete. You let him take a picture for District 9’s Instagram. He was ready to clean up and lock up, but he noticed you lingering around.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah!” you smiled. You then walked closer and looked straight at him. “Hey, I hope this is okay, but do you want to get lunch sometime?” you asked.

He blinked a few times and replayed the words in his head to make sure he heard them correctly. You mistook his silence as a decline.

“Sorry! I shouldn’t have asked such a question. That would be unprofessional for you to even answer! I’m sorry about that.”

You turned to leave, and he shouted with more volume than necessary, “Wait!”

You faced him, hope in your eyes. “Yes?”

“I’ll... get lunch with you.” He shyly looked away. “If you give me a flower crown.”

A wide grin spread across your face. “Will do.”