Summary: They say, it takes a village to raise a child. Well, it takes the whole of NCT to get Taeyong to finally get your attention and ask you out.
Or, here are the 22 ways Taeyong fails and the 1 time he doesn’t.
Warning/Notes: This is a spin-off from THIS DRABBLE. What was supposed to be a spin-off turned into a whole-ass idea for Mr. Frowny Face up there.
Y/N is a different person from the previous work! In this case, she’s THE person to call to fix/repair/upcycle stuff in campus and Taeyong’s a dork.
Word Count: 752 words
“I hope you don’t expect me to fix that.”
Johnny looks up at you staring at what was their coffee table and laughs, “No, no, don’t worry. It’s actually up here.”
He leads you up the stairs, tiptoeing around the remains of last night’s Punch Off. A funny, maybe slightly immature way of settlings things that work, so who were you to judge really.
Heaving up your tool box, you look over your shoulder and raise your eyebrow at the broken chair by the equally bereaved coffee table. Entering a familiar room, you ask, “Mind telling me what happened downstairs?”
A frazzled Taeyong stands in the middle of the room turns to you and laughs. The type of crazed, manic laugh that says - “I’m barely hanging on to my sanity” kind of thing.
“Uh, yeah… we had a situation.”
Nodding, you step further into the room and placed your toolbox on the floor. Behind you, Johnny grins at Taeyong making jazz hands before leaving.
“Looks like a tornado blew in.”
“Yeah, some of us had a disagreement.” Taeyong mutters, shifting his weight from what foot to the other.
“A disagreement? At Punch Off? Wow.” You grin, “So, if I’m not here to fix that, what do you have for me?”
Sheepishly, Taeyong steps aside and reveals what was his bed. On its place is a pile of comforters and pillows, the mattress lying rigid and low above a broken bed frame.
“Well,” you whistle, side-eyeing Taeyong, “somebody had a fun night.”
The music education major flushes so hard under your gaze that you almost feel bad for poking fun. Almost. But you and he have been friends since first year of uni, and you’ve been fixing their house’s mess for almost as long, so really, you think you might have earned the right.
You wait for Taeyong’s denial but instead, you’re surprised by his awkward laugh.
Oh.
You glance back at the broken bed to find a metal glint just by the head of the frame. Is that… is that a handcuff?
Wow.
You clear your throat and gestured, “Let me see what I could do.”
“She just upped and left?” Johnny laughs, slapping the cushion on his lap, “Seriously?”
Taeyong flushes and turns his doe eyes to Taeil for an assist, but the elder member just shrugs and grins. Traitor.
He’s recounting yesterday’s events, trying to decipher what he needs to do next because shit DID NOT work out. You didn’t even ask about it!
“She reinforced my bed frame too.” Taeyong murmurs, running his hand through his newly bleached hair.
Jeno said it will make you notice his ~danger~ apparently, girls dig that or something. A new look, for his application to a new position in your life.
“Whose idea was it even to break your bed in the first place? Really, out of all the things we could call her for repairs.” Taeil asks softly but still with that shit-eating grin on his face. “What was the point?”
Taeyong feels his ears burn and tosses the cushion to a snickering Johnny. Thank god, the Dreamies are out.
“You know how Lucas broke his bed last semester at the WayV chapter?” The Chicago native asks.
“Yeah? With that girl from his Bio— OH. Oh, oh — OH,” The economics major turns to his frat head with wide disbelieving eyes, “Oh my god, you didn’t.”
“He did.” Johnny quips, finding the situation all too funny.
“Haechan said it was a good idea!”
“And you believed him?” Johnny snorts, remembering Haechan’s lackluster attempts to woo his own object of affections, “He can’t even talk to the library girl without giggling like an idiot.”
In hindsight, he really should’ve reconsidered but everything so far has failed! And he’s been trying for almost a whole school year.
It’s hopeless. Not even his perceived bed-breaking prowess in bed worked. Taeyong plops down the remaining couch and screams.
Taeil glances at Johnny, and they nod solemnly.
It’s time for a NCT Intervention.
Operation: Get Taeyong his girl.
The next day, the men of NCT and WayV chapters wake up to a text blast from their fraternity vice-president.
Hear ‘ye, hear ‘ye.
It’s time to step up to our duties - as brothers and as men - and help our leader to finally get the girl.
Send your ideas, plans, and plots to [email protected].
THE successful plan gets priority for registration next semester AND an all-expenses paid trip to Chenle’s cabin.
Let’s get to it.
END NOTES: Hearts are appreciated but comments and feedbacks are golden! This is my first attempt (in a looong while) for humor. And yes, best be prepared for all the hair-brained shenanigans these guys will cook up.
What do you think Johnny will suggest? ;) Comment down below!
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WHAT AN ANIME CHARACTER. HE LOOKS LIKE THE PROTAGONIST OF A SHOJO MANGA. AND HIS SMOOTH SHARP DANCE MOVES??? UGH. HIS HAIR IS SO COOOOOOOOOOOL AND HIS BODY SO POISED.
UHHHH BAD BOY ALERT. JAEHYUN LOOKS GOOD IN ANYTHING THE STYLIST PUT HIM IN. HE EXECUTES HIMSELF FLAWLESSLY (I also love how his jacket, although very biker, is supreme. He’s still got his fuqueboi vibe going and it’s wonderful)
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the prompt: what if Taeil is a florist who never give any girls a flower before but one day he met a girl who asking him to teach her about flower language and making boquets, since he getting extra money he finds with it but the more they spend time together the more Taeil attract to this girl till he cant help but kiss her after that she never coming back to continue her lesson later Taeil found out that the flower boquets was for her dead lover after that is up to you.
words: 1983
category: angst
author note: angst and i have a relationship that shall never be destroyed. but there really isn’t that much angst in this and it’s kinda messy pls forgive me my brain is fried. also sorry for killing taeyong.
- destinee
-
Another slow day at his family’s florist. Taeil figured he couldn’t complain. It really was an easy job. All he had to do was arrange bouquets and recommend them to people. Besides, he loved flowers. He loved flowers so much he was hoping to be given the flower shop when his father retired.
The door opened, and the cool breeze told Taeil that someone had entered. “Hello, welcome to Moon’s Arrangements. How can I help you?”
When he looked up, however, he felt heat creep up the back of his neck. You had sunglasses perched on your head, keeping your hair out of your forehead. Your eyes were clear and resolved, and Taeil found himself forgetting how to speak for a moment.
Luckily, you spoke first, showing him a gentle smile. “Hi, I’m Y/n. Can you tell me what flowers mean?”
Taeil furrowed his eyebrows, “Pardon?”
You chuckled nervously, lowering your gaze to the floor. “Well, I heard from my aunt that you know a lot of flower meanings. I was hoping you could help me put together some bouquets. I’d pay you, of course.”
Taeil scratched the back of his neck nervously. Was this a trick? How else would a beautiful girl come into his shop, wanting to pay actual money to spend time with him? Okay, the payment was for lessons, but still.
“Well, what do you want to know?”
You pulled a notebook out of your purse, “Tell me everything you know.”
“Alright,” Taeil said. “Come back with me.”
The two of you walked behind the counter and into the back room, where the arrangements were made. Snippets of buds, leaves, and stems littered the tables. There was a refrigerator just to your right, playing house for many readymade arrangements.
Taeil took a large composition book off of one of the tables and opened it to a random page. “Okay, you want to learn the name and you want to know what they look like, right?”
“Absolutely,” you answered. “I want to be able see a flower on the side of the road and know exactly what it’s meaning is.”
“Okay,” Taeil said. “I’m a bit unprepared this time, but if you come back tomorrow, I’ll have fifteen flowers ready to go over with you.”
“I’ll be back at eight in the morning,” you said.
“I’ll be here,” Taeil answered, his heart already pounding at the thought of seeing you again.
-
You sat across from Taeil, sipping an americano. You had been here for hours, and save for the breaks Taeil took to take care of other customers, you had been working solely on memorizing flowers and their meanings.
Taeil held up a flower. The lily-shape was one hint, along with the startling orange and yellow color. “What’s this?”
“That’s a Alstroemeria,” you answered with ease. “It means aspiring.”
“Good,” he praised you. He held up a second flower, this one purple and somewhat bell-shaped. “Try this one.”
“Amaryllis. Dramatic.”
He nodded and held up flower after flower. You got them all right.
Finally, he held up the last flower: one with yellow petals and a raised middle. “Last one, Y/n. What’s this?”
“Black-eyed Susan,” you said. A grin appeared on Taeil’s face, prompting you to keep going. “It means encouragement.”
“Excellent!” Taeil said. “If we do this every day, you’ll become a pro in no time.”
“I’ll see you later, then,” you said, packing up your stuff to leave quickly.
Taeil watched you go, with no courage to ask you to stay a little while longer.
-
“So, you’ve got your primary colors and your secondary colors, as well as your shades,” Taeil told you, “the trick is making sure there is just enough amount of each without overdoing it.”
“Great,” you said. “Where do we start?”
“We’ll start with three colors,” Taeil said. “Try using one of each category.”
“Okay,” you grabbed three different colored roses: pink, yellow, and white. “What about these?”
“Good for a first try,” Taeil said. “Now arrange them and try to tell me what they mean.”
You did as he said, clipping the stems like he showed you. You then arranged all of the roses into one vase. “Okay. Pink means admiration. Yellow means friendship, and white means purity.”
“Great!” Taeil said. He watched your serious expression as you arranged the bouquet. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you want to learn all this?”
“Hmm?” You lifted your gaze to his. “Oh, I’m just curious and have a lot of time on my hands.”
“Really? It’s like school, though.” Taeil handed you a rose, and you thanked him. “Are you looking to become a florist yourself? Make your own arrangements?”
“Something like that,” you answered. “I’d like to make the perfect arrangement one day.”
“Well, I hope I can help you make the perfect arrangement.” Taeil found himself staring at you. The way your hair was messy from the humidity, hastily hidden under a baseball cap. Your lips were pursed as you critiqued your work.
He could really describe it. He supposed, however, that he had been around natural beauty all his life. He knew what it looked like.
There were flowers the color of the sunset. Trees twisted and tangled just like the clouds. There was beauty in planting a man made garden. There was beauty in watching a natural, wildflower garden grow.
Your beauty was natural, all right. Taeil could tell that you never wore makeup. Even when you did, it was in the softest colors. Pretty oceanic hues and sunrise shades.
Taeil wanted to get to know you better. He wanted to discover your secrets and find out why you were so closed off towards him.
It wasn’t like you didn’t talk to him; you did. But it was about surface subjects. Things like school and work and flowers.
He didn’t know the deeper context of your life. He wanted to, though. However, he knew it wasn’t his place to pry, so he never intruded.
Still, he wished you would open up to him.
-
“So, Cosmos?”
“Peaceful.”
“Ginger?”
“Pride.”
“Iris?”
“Inspiration.”
“Pansy?”
“Loving thoughts.”
“Good,” Taeil said.
You smiled proudly, “I’ve been studying, Taeil. I think I’ll come back tomorrow to make my perfect bouquet. And then our lessons will be over!”
Taeil smiled sadly, “Well, hopefully you’ll come back to see me, right?”
You smiled back at the boy who ha become somewhat of a friend to you. “Right, Taeil.”
-
You returned the next day and made your way to the back room while Taeil helped a few of the usual morning customers.
You carried a notebook with you, effectively labeled with certain flowers Taeil had taught you about over the few weeks .
Striped carnation: refusal.
White carnation: remembrance
Geranium: comfort
Lilac: first love
Red roses: passionate love
Heather: solitude
Daffodil: rebirth and new beginnings
Your list wasn’t long, but each flower held a special meaning you wanted to convey in your arrangement.
Taeil came in as you were gathering the flowers. He watched from the doorway as you grabbed a beautiful black vase.
“Wouldn’t you rather a brighter color?” He asked.
You jumped, finally noticing his presence. Only when you looked up did Taeil notice you were dressed twice as nice as usual, and your hair was tied up in a neat bun. “Going somewhere special?”
“You could say that,” you whispered. “And this vase is fine, thanks.”
Taeil walked up and read from your list before looking at the the flowers you’ve collected. “Y/n… these don’t match.”
“I know,” you said simply.
“What about what I taught you? Colors matching colors and meanings matching meanings?”
“Those don’t matter,” you answered. “I’ve already decided to make this bouquet. I’m paying for all the expenses, so it won’t matter.”
You were still so cold towards him. A natural blizzard, rejecting any friendly advances he made towards you. Although you smiled for him and engaged in conversation, you still seemed a thousand miles away.
Taeil sighed and leaned against the counter, grabbing a pair of shears. The two of you prepared the bouquet in silence. A silence you seemed comfortable with.
However, to Taeil, it was a cloudy silence filled with questions. He craved anything that would bring him closer to you, the mysterious girl who showed up at his flower shop one day.
Suddenly, you smiled. Dimples appeared on your cheeks and Taeil found himself grinning at your innocent giggling. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing.” You shook your head. “I was just thinking about something my mom said.”
“What’d she say?” Taeil asked.
“Just a small joke.”
“Tell me,” Taeil begged.
“Okay,” you cleared your throat and turned to him.
Hiding the giggles behind your palm, you straightened up, “Okay. What’s a cow’s favorite color?”
Taeil chuckled at your cuteness, “I dunno. What?”
You giggled, “Burger-dy. Get it? Like burgundy?”
Taeil nearly face palmed at the lame joke. “Wow.”
“What?” You pouted. “It was funny.”
Taeil couldn’t really help himself. In that moment, you looked so unapologetically beautiful. He couldn’t help but blurt, “Can I kiss you?”
-
Your eyes widened as the boy suddenly leaned in, his lips inches from yours. You were frozen, unable to answer him. Instead, you simply nodded, thinking it would be okay.
It’s been almost a year, Y/n. It’ll be fine.
But it wasn’t fine. Because Taeil’s lips were nothing compared to his. Taeil’s touch reminded you of the way he used to hold you.
You pushed Taeil away. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
You dug your wallet out of your pocket and extracted some money, placing it on the counter. In a rush, you spoke to Taeil as you grabbed the bouquet, “I have to go.”
“Wait!” Taeil grabbed your wrist. “Did I come on too strong? I’m sorry.”
“It’s not that,” you answered, offering him a sad smile. “It’s just that I thought I could do this, but I can’t. Goodbye, Taeil.”
He let you go, and you could hear his soft voice as you went, “Goodbye, Y/n.”
-
It had been two weeks. Taeil didn’t know where you were, for you hadn’t returned to the flower shop.
He wondered if it was his fault. Maybe he had read your signals wrong and you hadn’t wanted to kiss him. Did he scare you?
He pondered this as he walked to the local church, a bouquet of roses in his hands. He was to deliver them to the church, where there was a piano recital for the children.
He took in his surroundings. The steeple of the church in the distance, the graveyard, the children’s playground…
Taeil did a double take at the graveyard, his eyes falling on a familiar bouquet. The red of the roses, the pink of the geranium, the yellow of the daffodils… it was your bouquet.
Hesitantly, he walked through the gate of the cemetery. With no one around, he crouched down at the grave and read the label.
Lee Taeyong: a son, a lover, and a friend. 1995-2017
It all made sense. Your closed off personality, your unwillingness to get close to him, your will to learn about flowers and their meaning. All of it was for this Lee Taeyong, who, judging by the meaning of the flowers, was your boyfriend.
It hadn’t even been a year. No wonder you hadn’t kissed him back. You could still feel love for your late boyfriend. Or maybe you felt guilty to kiss someone so soon after his death.
Either way, Taeil couldn’t say.
He paid his respects before standing up and making his way back towards the church.
He wished he had gotten your contact, or anything really. He just wanted to be the friend you obviously needed; romance could wait on mourning.
But he couldn’t find you, and he was afraid he would never find you again.
