#mybs

1 Rose.

He meets him on a rainy Monday evening; the faded orange light casting a soft glow in Jonghyun’s shop. The bell above the door chimed, and in walked him. Dressed in business attire, soaked to the bone, and panting as if he had just sprinted twenty blocks, he walked towards Jonghyun’s counter and asked, “Can I get just one rose, please?”

“Yeah, sure! Right this way,” Jonghyun said, amused. He led the man to the little greenhouse behind the store. “You late for a date?” he asked.

“Not really,” the man replied, briskly. Jonghyun shrugged it off, picking up various roses from their holders along the greenhouse wall.

“Dark or light?”

“Huh?”

“A dark colored rose, or a lighter one?” Jonghyun repeated. He looked at the man closely. His eyes were red-rimmed, but empty. As if his mind was somewhere else.

Something was wrong, but Jonghyun knew it wasn’t polite to pry, even though he wanted to.

“A lighter one, I guess. Pink?”

“Yeah, sure! My pink ones came in only a few days ago, they’re really full and healthy.” Jonghyun picked up two vibrantly pink roses, their undoubtedly lovely perfume masked by the smell of dozens of dozens of roses. “Come,” he said, motioning for the man to follow him back into the store. The man followed, after one long glance at the multitude of roses.

The store owner walked behind his counter, ringing up one rose. The man saw the two roses in his hand, and said, “Oh, no, I need just one.”

“The second is on me,” Jonghyun said with a friendly wink. “I have to take care of new customers.”

The man barely smiled, but his eyes seemed less empty than before. Jonghyun was ecstatic, to say the least.

He left after paying, leaving Jonghyun with a goofy grin.

7 Roses.

The man came to the store at the same time every day, after his working day was over. He wore the same clothes and asked for one pink rose. He always left without a word, but today, Jonghyun was going to get his name.

At exactly 6:00 the bell rung. The man walked in with a grim expression, and asked for a rose.

“Sure thing!” Jonghyun, excited as he was, already had the pink rose on the counter in front of him. The man dug into his pockets to find his wallet, but Jonghyun quickly said, “No need!”

The man only looked at him.

“Today’s rose is free, if you can answer my question.”

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback, but nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“I… it’s Kibum.”

“Kibum?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, nice to see you again, Kibum! Come back tomorrow!”

Kibum took his rose and left, sparing a single glance in Jonghyun’s direction before closing the door. Jonghyun leaned against the counter, resting his head on his forearms. He sighed, dreamily. He couldn’t wait for Kibum to come back in.

33 Roses.

Kibum came into the shop today, sullen and down but smiling. “Hi, Jonghyun,” he said, walking up to the counter and leaning in close to Jonghyun. He slipped the bills towards the man, watching with a soft smile as Jonghyun ran his hands through his silky brown hair before handing Kibum the pink rose.

“You’ll call tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” Kibum replied, “if I get the chance.”

He smiled and walked out of the store, sending Jonghyun a wave.

Jonghyun still didn’t know much about the other, but he knew that thirty-three roses in, he was hooked.

68 Roses.

Kibum was running late today. Not much of a surprise- it was close to winter, and the weather was getting colder and more bitter.

He entered the store and shivered exaggeratedly, sending a glance at the owner. Jonghyun was ready and waiting with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands, and a warm smile. He handed the mug to Kibum and melted when the other sent him a genuine smile in thanks. “So,” he sang, “how are on this fantastic day?”

“I’m fine,” Kibum said, sipping on the beverage. “Just a slow day at work.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Really?” Kibum giggled. “In this small, cozy store that you own? Slow, grinding days must not happen here often.”

“Mm, not really.” Jonghyun teased, “My day is boring and unfulfilling, until you walk in through that door.”

93 Roses.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Jonghyun asked, gently brushing his fingers through a lock of Kibum’s hair. “I know that things are tough for you right now, so we could hold off on dating. I can wait for you.”

“I- really?”

“Yes. If you said you needed five years before you could date me, I’d wait. Right here. Giving you a rose every day.”

“Thank you,” Kibum said, his voice wavering. He leaned in and hugged Jonghyun, leaning against the smaller man’s shoulders. “You don’t know how much that means to me.” He couldn’t say anymore. He broke down into heaving sobs in Jonghyun’s arms, hot and salty tears soaking the man’s shirt.

“It’ll be okay,” Jonghyun said, rocking Kibum back and forth slowly.

“No, it won’t,” Kibum wailed. “N-nothing will ever be okay.”

178 Roses.

They’d been dating for a week now.

Walking together hand in hand, they strolled through the largest, most beautiful park they could find in the city. It was nighttime, and it was hard to see, but even then, they could tell what wonders this place held. The trees were still brown and bare, but the droplets from that afternoon’s rain shower left dazzling diamonds hanging from the branches.

“I really like you,” Kibum whispered, his grip getting tighter.

“I really like you, too.”

They parted ways hours later, the time getting close to midnight. Jonghyun handed Kibum his pink rose, and asked that all he receive from then on was a kiss as payment.

342 Roses.

Today, Jonghyun was leaning on his counter, his brows furrowed and held a deep pout. Almost a year had passed since he met Kibum, and he still knew next to nothing about him.

He was an accountant at a small, but fairly busy firm. He was 32 years old, only a year younger than Jonghyun. He was only free for dates at night, even on the weekends. And he carried an immensely heavy load on his shoulders, but Jonghyun still couldn’t decipher what was wrong.

And yet, on the flipside, Kibum knew nearly everything there was to know about Jonghyun.

He needed to be held during sad or romantic movies. He turned everything in life into a poem. He wanted a rose tattoo but had a phobia of needles, and even though its subsided some, he still hasn’t gained the courage to go and get one. He has a sister and a mother whom he loves dearly, and occasionally they’re at the shop, waiting for Kibum with tea. He sings as he tends to his flowers and shrubs. He is in love with Kibum.

Kibum received a rose every day, but Jonghyun still doesn’t know who they’re for.

368 Roses.

“Can you close up shop now?” Kibum asked, after receiving his rose and kiss for the day.

“Yeah? Why?”

“I don’t know… I just wanted to cook dinner for us. At my place.”

Jonghyun beamed at him. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

They entered Kibum’s small apartment close to seven at night, only a small light guiding their way. Kibum walked a few paces into the darkness and turned on the lights, and Jonghyun gasped. The apartment -cheap and small- didn’t feel like it at all. It felt… like a home. All along the walls were pieces of art, ones he didn’t recognize but knew must have been sought after. There was a small TV, but surrounding it was a large shelf filled with knickknacks and photo frames. Pictures of a family, both old and young.

“I’m going to be in the kitchen for a bit, make yourself comfortable,” Kibum said. Jonghyun replied with an “Ok” and resumed his gazing at the part of Kibum’s life that he thought he would only see in his dreams. He looked at the photos of Kibum, first.

He recognized Kibum as a young boy in those photos, smiling as if the world is his to conquer. His parents were behind him, looking as if they were in love and in the best place in their lives. Kibum’s childhood was chronicled in those photos, silly moments and huge events alike.

There was a large section in the middle, with a picture of Kibum as a young adult, kissing a woman. Jonghyun knew he shouldn’t be jealous, but this woman must mean something to Kibum, if he were to keep it up there all this time. His jealousy, however, faded when he saw the photos next to it. Kibum and the same woman, getting married. Kibum and the woman holding a baby in a pale pink dress. Kibum and the baby blowing bubbles. Kibum and the now little girl, holding onto a trophy. Kibum and the woman and the little girl, in a professional studio with matching outfits and the happiest smiles Jonghyun had ever seen on anyone before. Genuine, pure, joyful.

But, they seemed old. Dusty. The photos stopped after the girl seemed to be of school age, and that’s when Kibum seems the most like he is now.

Jonghyun didn’t want to pry. He didn’t want to make Kibum sad if this situation was one that left Kibum crying and only a shattered shell of himself.

Something bad happened. Jonghyun knew the two weren’t in Kibum’s life anymore. But, he wouldn’t ask. Kibum would open up to him in time, right?

Jonghyun was deep in thought when, perhaps thirty minutes later, Kibum called from the kitchen and said that dinner was ready. Shaking his head, Jonghyun continued his little date with the man, and kept all thoughts of the past from his mind.

434 Roses.

Kibum gripped Jonghyun’s collar tighter in his fists, their lips clashing deliciously. Their eyes were shut, dark eyelashes resting against their cheeks, and every so often Jonghyun wanted to open them. He wanted to know what Kibum looked like when he pulled him in tighter to kiss him, when he used his height as an advantage against Jonghyun and grasped him with all his might. Just to keep him there, something steady in his life. Jonghyun believes- no, knows- that it’s an arousing sight.

This kiss deepens and Jonghyun is pushed back against his countertop. His hands crawl up to loop around Kibum’s neck, and for a while, Jonghyun doesn’t care that someone walked in and left the moment they saw the two.

The pink rose was picked up an hour later, by a smiling and breathless and flushed and tousled and an absolutely stunning Kibum.

623 Roses.

Kibum was sleeping, his chest flush against Jonghyun’s back, when he whispered, “Sunkyung.”

“Sunkyung.”

Over and over. It was pained- a whimper.

Jonghyun didn’t know what to do. They hadn’t slept together often, but usually Kibum is a sound sleeper. But tonight seems to be different. Jonghyun should have known something was off when Kibum abruptly entered the store and pulled Jonghyun out and all the way to his apartment, but the promises Kibum gave when he whispered the I love you’s into his skin as they held each other erased it from his mind.

“Kibum,” Jonghyun whispered, lightly shaking the man in his arms. “Kibum, wake up.”

Said man let out a broken gasp as he woke, his eyes slowly opening to meet Jonghyun’s.

“Yeah?” He said, still groggy.

“You were having a nightmare. Is everything okay?”

“Not really,” Kibum said, pressing his face into Jonghyun’s chest. “But I think it’s getting better.”

Kibum was almost asleep again when Jonghyun asked, “Who’s Sunkyung?”

630 Roses.

Kibum opened his apartment door to see Jonghyun, dressed in an over-sized white sweater and a pink rose in his hands, perfect and full and blushing.

The man smiled solemnly, joining Jonghyun outside his door. “Shall we go?” he asked. Jonghyun nodded, a little nervous, but that was to be expected.

Today, he was meeting Sunkyung. He still didn’t know who she was, but he had a feeling it was either the woman or the little girl from the photos. Either Kibum’s… wife, or his daughter.

Kibum was still an enigma, but Jonghyun had hope that today would give him all he needed to piece things together and get Kibum comfortable enough to share everything with him.

They walked for nearly an hour- neither owned a car- and they finally reached the hospital when the sun was highest in the sky. The nurses greeted Kibum warmly, asked him how his day was, told him that “everything is normal here!”

Jonghyun felt sick to his stomach.

Kibum led them through the corridors to a room that was isolated and private. Long-term residence in the pediatric ward. He opened the door, and the first thing Jonghyun noticed was the heavy smell of roses, and the bright pink of the source. At least thirty roses were sitting on the windowsill in various vases, some almost fully wilted. Kibum pulled the rose from Jonghyun’s hand and brought it to the bed, were a vase was sitting on top of the bedside table.

There she was.

Sunkyung.

Covered in tubes and wires, her hair dulled and her skin colorless. Beside her were machines that-to Jonghyun’s knowledge- were responsible for her every function. She has Kibum’s lips and eyes. She’s lifeless.

Kibum sat down in a chair beside her, pulling her frail hand into his warm one and giving it a soft kiss.

His face was blank.

Jonghyun placed his hand on Kibum’s shoulder, rubbing up and down. He was thinking of what to ask first- and even if it was okay to ask- when Kibum said, “She’s been like this for almost six hundred and fifty days… twelve hours. Her mom… Eunhee… died six hundred and fifty days and twelve hours ago.”

He sucked in a wavering breath. He tried to say something else, but all that came out was pure pain. Sorrowful sobs filled the small room. Kibum laid his head against the bed and shook heavily, and all Jonghyun could do was stand and stare. Kibum was broken, and this was why.

650 Roses.

Jonghyun visited Sunkyung with Kibum every day after work. Slowly, the pieces were coming together and Kibum’s tale was being told.

Jonghyun learned that things between Kibum and Eunhee hadn’t been going well for quite some time. A year before the accident they were having shouting matches and were sleeping in different rooms. Sunkyung would watch and cry.

After that year of feeling hopelessness in the one part of his life he felt like he got right, it became overwhelming, then both he and his wife gave in. They went to get a divorce, and they settled on when they would each spend time with Sunkyung. It was during a heavy discussion about who would get her for that coming Christmas when a truck barreled into Kibum’s car, killing the passenger and leaving the little girl behind her brain dead.

Kibum came out with bruises and lacerations, and the feeling of having his entire heart and soul being torn out endlessly. The first few days after were hell, Kibum constantly leaving his room to see Sunkyung, who was in intensive care.

She didn’t die until months into her coma, when the doctors told Kibum that there was nothing left inside her.

His daughter was gone.

But… the way Kibum spoke of this was… odd, to Jonghyun. Kibum had this tone in his voice that was hopeful- however broken he was- that his daughter would awaken and he could see her smile and hear her laugh again.

He often spoke of getting to see her receive her high school diploma. Of seeing her off on her first date. Of being there when she committed to someone or something with all the passion and love she could muster.

Jonghyun knew she was dead. But Kibum didn’t. This was why she was still here, because Kibum wouldn’t let go.

720 Roses.

Jonghyun didn’t know what to do anymore. He knew that telling Kibum what to do would be useless, but the doctors were giving Kibum grief about the medical bills, and Kibum’s boss was getting furious because he wasn’t producing the quality work that he used to. The best solution would be to let Sunkyung go. To finally be put to rest peacefully, the way she deserves to be, and to cut off the debt before it could climb any higher. Before Kibum became homeless.

But it would be useless. Kibum was so sure- so adamant- that his daughter would wake up.

“She’s just in a coma,” he keeps saying. The doctors disagree.

Jonghyun sat Kibum down in his apartment, and pulled him into his arms, holding tight and nuzzling his hair. “I think it’s time to let go,” he whispered.

“What?” Kibum asked, his body stiffening.

“I really do, Kibum. You can’t keep going like this. At this rate, you’ll wear yourself out. Then you’d be gone. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.”

Kibum pushed away, his eyes frighteningly angry. “You. Know. Nothing!” He yelled. He stood up from the couch and screamed incoherently, throwing things at random. The thumping and screaming didn’t bother Jonghyun until he heard glass shatter, and he saw Kibum shoving the photos off the shelves they once rested on.

“Enough!” He shouted, his voice deep and threatening. It was enough to make Kibum freeze.

“I’ve watched you fall apart over and over again the past couple of years, Kibum. And you know what? You’re doing it all to yourself. It’s all your fault! Shut up and move on like everyone else would, Kibum! I’m tired of not being knowing who you are! Of not getting to be a part of your life! If you just want me as a placeholder, just fucking say it! At least fucking try!”

Jonghyun stormed out of the apartment without another word.

He left the pink rose on the kitchen table.

It remained the only thing not broken by Kibum’s hands that night.

779 Roses.

Kibum still came in every day for a pink rose.

The two didn’t speak. A silent exchange.

Kibum paid with money now.

999 Roses.

Today Kibum came in early. Over half a year had passed since they broke up, but still… things were silent. Kibum was pensive and lost in his own mind every time he came in, and Jonghyun didn’t dare break him away from it. Every so often he offered a hello, but he was ignored.

Kibum paid for the pink rose and left.

That night, Jonghyun decided to fix things. He had wanted to do so the moment he stormed out of that apartment, but he knew that Kibum was in a fragile state. Still is. He knew that Kibum shouldn’t be living a roller coaster love life.

Jonghyun rang Kibum’s apartment, and received no response. He rang and rang again for ten minutes. No response.

He began to get frantic. Kibum was always home at this time. He never stayed with Sunkyung for too long, and he had to be home so he could rest long enough for work the next day. Only on date nights did he stay up. Where was he? Was he okay? Was he even breathing?

Jonghyun’s heart was racing.

As if by a miracle, he saw Kibum’s landlord walk up the steps towards the front door.

“Ah, Jonghyun!” She called, walking to him happily. “So good to see you! I haven’t seen you in quite some time! But, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I’m here for Kibum.”

“Oh no, sweetie. He left a few hours ago. He didn’t say where he went off to, but I assumed he would be with you! For the last couple of years all he’s talked about is you, so I thought… but I can see I’m wrong.”

Her chipper smile had faded into sympathy. “Have you tried the hospital yet?” She asked.

“No, not yet, but I’ll go right now. Thank you!” Jonghyun bowed to her and left hurriedly, almost sprinting down the sidewalk to the hospital.

He reached it soon enough. He walked to the front desk and saw his favorite nurse. She smiled warmly at him and said, “Good evening, Jonghyun. How can I help you?”

“Is Kibum here? For Sunkyung?”

“Sunkyung?” Her expression darkened. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Kibum pulled the plug this morning. He left some hours ago after arranging the cremation.”

Jonghyun had no words.

Kibum did it. He let go. But at what cost? From what the man had seen in the past few months, Kibum was steadily getting worse and worse until he looked like a breeze would send him to his grave. In no way did he look like he was ready to let go of his baby girl.

“Do you know where I can find him?”

“No, Jonghyun. I’m sorry.”

Jonghyun nodded. He turned and left the hospital with slow, heavy steps. Tears prickling in his eyes. From a distance, he saw a man pouring the trash into the large dumpster. Dozens of pink roses fell in, still fresh.

1000 Roses.

Two years had passed.

Jonghyun still ran the flower shop. It had expanded since his last encounter with Kibum, and he could now afford a much larger greenhouse with iron chairs and tables on the inside. Customers paid for tea, coffee, or baked goods and sat inside among the many flowers. Many enjoyed it, as they were living in the city, and chances to be this far removed from the hustle and bustle were once in a blue moon.

He had gotten a rose tattoo. The petals were pink, and the bloom was in between his collarbones while the stem reached down to his belly button. It wasn’t nearly as painful as he feared, and now he is considering another.

He was happy. Although not nearly as happy as he was with Kibum, he still felt like he had many sunny and enjoyable days.

He was wiping his countertop off with a clean pink towel when he heard his bell ring.

He sang his “good afternoon” and “how may I help you?” without looking up from his task.

He first saw large hands on his clean countertop, the fingers long and recognizable and he knew they fit with his perfectly.

He looked up, his eyes watery, and he saw a man he had only dreamed of seeing. A healthy, smiling, sly Kibum.