[oneshot] Full Bloom. (part 1)
Title: Full Bloom
Rating: G
Pairing(s)/Focus: female!Suho/D.O
Length: ~14,000 words
Summary: Joonmyun doesn’t like roses - or, perhaps, she just doesn’t understand them.
Notes: written for soomyuns as part of suholidays. the universe this fic is set in is acronychal, similar in some aspects to early twentieth century Europe.
Joonmyun’s mother has a garden. A beautiful, enormous rose garden, the kind of garden that wins prizes, gains recognition, and takes over all of one’s free time. On the back side of their western-style mansion, the one Joonmyun has learned to associate with summertime and ennui, the rose garden covers several square miles with its variety of colors, shapes, and scents. For the first ten years of her life, Joonmyun loved the garden, ran along its endless corridors, spent entire afternoons near the fountain or, when it rained, sat under the gazebo’s roof, singing quietly to herself.
After leaving childhood behind, however, Joonmyun fell out of love with the roses, much preferring the music room, or the library, or going outside to have a picnic with her friends. Just as much as she started to look at herself in the mirror with a sense of boredom and incompleteness creeping around the corners of her eyes, she no longer saw beauty or originality in the garden’s varying hues of red and pink. If anything, there were days she despised them. Despised the roses, and the garden, and summertime.
She never told anyone, though. Joonmyun is a lady, one of the most well educated and refined of her time, and she’d never say something so rude about her mother’s masterpiece. On Sundays, when botanists and nobles came over to visit the garden, she’d try to smile with the same amount of pride that her mother displayed, as if she, too, loved the roses more than anything - or anyone - else.
After she turns thirteen, Joonmyun realizes she’d much rather stay in school for summer classes than going to the mansion, because she knows that in school she’ll have her classmates and teachers to talk to, and things beside playing the piano and rereading the same books to do. In the mansion’s library, there’s all but thirty books of fiction, and then hundreds and hundreds of books about roses. In the school’s library, Joonmyun finds all kinds of interesting stories, even ones that give her the feeling that she and her roommates shouldn’t be reading that, whispering and giggling when it’s way past bedtime. Yes… Joonmyun would much rather stay than spend three weeks in the lonely emptiness of the mansion, but her parents wouldn’t like that, and it’s not lady like to childishly demand something so egoistic. So, not once complaining, Joonmyun comes back every year, every summer, and admires the rose garden from the window of her room.
The year she turns sixteen, Joonmyun is tired. She has run out of songs to learn in the piano, and memorized each fictional story in the library. She figures she could try her hand at baking, but, at home economy classes in her school, she soon finds out that baking is much more tiresome than fun or educational. She dreads going back to the mansion so much that she loses her appetite for the last week of school, and her roommates worry about her.
“I’ll visit you,” Jongdae promises, her brows furrowed sadly as she combs Joonmyun’s hair with her favorite brush. For the past years, Joonmyun got used to having her hair brushed and braided by Jongdae before bedtime, all while listening to Jongdae and Baekhyun chat endlessly about their classmates and teachers. “I’ll visit you and bring the dirtiest books from my parents’ library for you to read.”
“If your parents let us, we could have a sleepover,” Baekhyun suggests, brushing her own hair with a much fancier brush. “Or maybe you could come to town! Grandma would love to have you over. She’d bake you sugar cookies and let you drink coffee. How’s that?”
Joonmyun smiles weakly. “I don’t think my parents would allow me,” she says weakly, smoothing the fabric of her nightgown. “At this age, they might fear I’ll bring shame to the family if I’m let out of their sight.”
“How could they? You’re such a proper lady,” Jongdae scrunches her nose. “You’ve never done anything remotely embarrassing to them. For what reason they’d be so weary of you?”
At that, Joonmyun shrugs. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Over the years, she has come to stop associating her parents’ approval with anything remotely fun.
“This year won’t be like the others,” Baekhyun stops brushing her hair in order to hold Joonmyun’s hand reassuringly, looking into the older girl’s eyes with seriousness rarely seen, thanks to her mischievous nature. “I promise. Jongdae and I won’t let you rot among your mother’s roses.”
And at that, Joonmyun laughs, because if she’s to die anytime soon, she’s sure it’ll be out of boredom, lost in that beautiful, dreadful garden.
And what a surprise it is when, as Joonmyun arrives at the mansion for that year’s summer, she finds out that things have changed not so slightly.
There’s a car beside her father’s in the garage. On Sundays, it’s not rare for the garage to be filled to the brim with black, sleek cars, with their wheels covered in mud from the trip as the scientists are guided inside by Mrs. Kim; when Joonmyun arrives, however, it’s a Saturday, and it’s very unusual for anyone to visit the mansion on any days beside Sunday, even if they’re relatives. Glancing at the old, slightly battered car as the chauffeur brings her luggage down from the trunk, Joonmyun faintly wonders who it might belong to. A friend of her father’s? A distant relative? Or, perhaps, someone she has been expecting for a long time?
“Joonmyun is here!” Joonmyun hears her father shout from the first floor. It’s the same every year. Joonmyun shall go in, be greeted by the maids and butlers, and hug her parents near the stairway as they ask her about the trip. She’ll give them vague answers, and climb to her room to unpack. Her mother will offer help, and she’ll refuse. They’ll then meet for dinner, and Joonmyun’s most hated weeks of the year will begin.
When she goes in, however, she finds strangers in the familiar scenery. The maids greet her like they always do, and so do the butlers, but, at the top of the stairway, two unknown people stand beside her parents. One of them is an old, small man, dressed in a worn out brown suit; the other is a young boy, even smaller than the old man, soberly clad in similar, but much newer, attire. Joonmyun faintly wonders if the boy is even old enough to be wearing anything but summer suits at that time of the year; then, she realizes it must be very rude to just stand still and silently stare.
“Good afternoon,” she greets with a brief curtsy, letting a maid take her hat and scarf to her room. At the top of the stairway, her mother smiles, and climbs down to give Joonmyun a hug.
“Welcome home, love,” she greets, and it’s the first time in years she has given Joonmyun such a warm greeting. Around them, the butlers are quick to pick up Joonmyun’s luggage. “We were so eager to see you at once! How was the trip?”
“Pleasant,” Joonmyun answers with a smile, glad to be received so well. “Such agreeable weather for a Saturday, too.”
“Indeed, it is,” her mother smiles back at her, turning around and standing beside Joonmyun so to showcase her to the two unknown visitors. “Gentlemen, this is my only daughter, Joonmyun. Joonmyun, these are Doctor Do Hwangsoo,” she gestures the old man, who makes a brief curtsy, “and his son and apprentice, Kyungsoo,” the boy makes the same curtsy, expression unchanging. “They’ll be residing with us for the summer. Doctor Do is one of the most influential living botanists of our time.”
“You flatter me, Mrs. Kim,” Do Hwangsoo says, brushing the compliments off timidly as he climbed down the stairs. His humbleness and lack of distinct elegance only help Joonmyun to be convinced that the man is a brilliant scientist, and the gentle way how he kisses her hand give Joonmyun the feeling that he must be a good person. “I apologise for imposing like this in your household. We promise not to bother you much.”
“Nonsense, Doctor,” Joonmyun replies with her gentlest smile. “It is an honor for me and my family to have such a brilliant man among us. We shan’t fail to provide you anything you need for your comfort.”
From the sidelines, Mrs. Kim watches, seeming to be proud of Joonmyun’s manners. It makes Joonmyun feel a bit lighter, much lighter than she had been the past week, when thoughts of summer weighed her down.
“You must be tired, darling,” says Mrs. Kim, walking towards Joonmyun and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you go upstairs and unpack while I prepare the tea? Today, we’re intending to have tea at the garden. How’s that?”
They have tea at the garden every Sunday, when the weather is favorable. Usually, a big table is put together by the maids at the center of the garden, near the water fountain, and there they serve many refined snacks and a diverse variety of teas, and even Joonmyun, who feels rather out of place among all the rose enthusiasts, enjoys the event and eats to her heart’s contents. For today, Joonmyun is quite sure they won’t have a table as big as the one they have for Sunday, but her eyes brighten at the prospect.
“That would be lovely!” She exclaims happily, perhaps a little too enthusiastic. Her mother’s smile widens.
“It’s settled then! Now if you excuse me,” she bids them all goodbye with a curtsy. As if following a cue, Do Hwangsoo immediately starts talking to Joonmyun’s father about something; probably a conversation they had put on hold when Joonmyun’s arrive was announced.
Seeing she has no business there, and that she still has to unpack and change her clothes, Joonmyun starts climbing up the stairs. As her father and Do Hwangsoo pass past her, she makes a small curtsy, which goes unnoticed by both - and as she turns around to resume her climb, her eyes are met with a glance from Do Kyungsoo.
It’s brief, but sudden, and the surprise makes her go still for the slightest of the seconds. The boy looks like he has been caught staring, and bows very timidly before scurrying off to follow the two adult men, who start to retreat to outside. It takes Joonmyun a minute for her to notice that her eyes followed Do Kyungsoo’s small frame, from the moment their eyes met to when he disappears behind the front door. When she does notice, she shakes her head, mentally chastising herself, and goes back to going up to her bedroom.
The tea is served at half past four, and Joonmyun’s eyes twinkle when she spots all her favorite treats on silver trays over the white linen tablecloth. Her mother looks subtly stunning in her best summer dress, gleaming like gold when Do Hwangsoo lets her talk about the roses; soon enough, her, the botanist, and Joonmyun’s father - not a botanist, nor a roses enthusiast, but a naturally curious man - find themselves engaged in a pleasant conversation about rose gardens, contests, rose breeds, and similar subjects. Joonmyun is all too used to that, and finds contentment in sitting the nearest she can of the fountain, a plate full of pastries placed on her lap.
Even though Joonmyun is quite sick of the garden for now, she can’t claim it to be a completely familiar sight. She has sat by the fountain several times in the past years, and there was always something new to see; a bush that had flowered more generously than the year before, or a new species blending in with the others, or even a complete change in the garden’s configuration. From what Joonmyun could remember from the past years, it seemed like her mother had decided to redirect the red roses to further back in the garden, leaving the surrounds of the fountain walled in pink. Joonmyun tries to picture the gazebo now; in the past, that had been an area of, mostly, white roses. Now, they’re probably red. Perhaps her mother was planning an expansion…
“Mind if I sit here?”
Joonmyun jumps slightly, and some crumbs fall from her plate onto her lap. When she looks up, she sees Do Kyungsoo, holding a teacup and a saucer, facing her with his perfectly neutral expression. Cursing her own rudeness at being surprised, she smiles sweetly at him, consenting with a, “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”
He then sits down, putting a polite distance between himself and Joonmyun, and she can already feel the silence start to weigh on her shoulders. When she was a child, her mother taught her to always start conversations with your guests, but Joonmyun can’t claim to be the best at the art of conversation.
“I must apologize to you.” To Joonmyun’s surprise, it’s Kyungsoo who speaks. He sounds emotionless, polite. “I didn’t greet you properly when we first met. It was rude of me.”
“Oh, don’t mind!” She brushes it off. “It was indelicate of me not to greet you either. I, too, apologize.”
At that, Kyungsoo’s expression changes the slightest bit. There’s the faintest pull on the corner of his lips, and Joonmyun can’t tell if that’s a smile or an expression of distaste. However, it’s gone as soon as it came, and Kyungsoo rests his cup on his saucer in order to offer his hand to Joonmyun. “Enchanted to meet you, milady. My name is Do Kyungsoo.”
Now, Joonmyun is quite sure Kyungsoo is mocking her, but she can’t help but laugh. “The pleasure is all mine,” she says, offering her own hand timidly, but, instead of kissing it, Kyungsoo shakes it, like Joonmyun has seen men do to each other when scientists visit at Sundays. It has her at a loss, but Kyungsoo seems not to notice. Instead, he turns back to the table. “Mrs. Kim told me we’re about the same age,” he comments, taking a sip of his tea.
“Really?” Joonmyun tries not to look too surprised; it’s impolite. Kyungsoo nods.
“She said you’re all but two years older than me,” he adds, and now there’s no hiding Joonmyun’s surprise. Even though he isn’t looking directly at her, he seems to notice, and smiles for the first time. “Shocked?”
“You must forgive me,” she mutters, slightly ashamed. “I… you seem to be quite younger than that, Mr. Do.”
“Kyungsoo,” he corrects, smiling even wider. Yes, he must be definitely mocking her. “Since you’re older than me, there’s no need for such undeserved formality.”
“Mr. Kyungsoo it is, then,” she corrects herself, but it doesn’t seem to be what Kyungsoo meant, as he sighs almost imperceptibly. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ve never met any boys my age, so I don’t know what they’re supposed to look like.”
And at that - even though Joonmyun is sure she has said nothing funny - Kyungsoo lets out a quiet, brief laugh. The gesture seems to change his facial features, smoothen the sharp edges around his large, analytic eyes; Joonmyun blinks, a tad bit confused. But then again… perhaps he had found funny how a woman her age had never seen a young man before. Thinking from that angle, it was a quite strange thing to say. Joonmyun found herself regretting her poor conversational skills.
“Say, Miss Kim…” he starts suddenly, taking another sip of his tea. “Out of all the pastries on the table, which one is your favorite?”
She blinks, slightly taken aback by the change of subject. Within a brief minute of thought, she purses her lips. “Um…” her eyes scan the table while her brain lists all the treats she has had that afternoon. “The cream horns.” Then, remembering that she still has some on her plate - one of which has been bit already - she redirects her gaze to her lap. “They’re delicious, Mr. Kyungsoo. Would you like to try one?” she offers, raising her plate.
“May I?” He asks politely, even waiting for her confirmation before taking the intact cream horn. As Kyungsoo bites down on the pastry, Joonmyun decides that she, too, shouldn’t neglect hers; however, perhaps due to the nervousness of being in close companion with a stranger, she bites it too clumsily, causing the pastry to shower the plate and her lap with crumbs. Flushing bright red, Joonmyun tries to clean herself before Kyungsoo would notice, not wanting him to laugh at her again.
“This really is quite good,” he says, eyeing the pastry with certain amazement. “I had never tried one before.”
“I should ask my mother to serve it more often, then,” Joonmyun replies, noticing a smudge of cream near Kyungsoo’s mouth and debating whether to warn him or not. Ultimately, she decides to keep quiet about it. “The strawberry ones are my favorite, but there are other flavors that are just as good.”
Kyungsoo nods, taking another bite of the cream horn. Joonmyun watches him for a second, as if studying the way he eats, before turning back to her pastry. At that time, his tea must’ve certainly gotten cold. But then again, the glass of juice on Joonmyun’s right side has most certainly gotten warm…
“It was nice talking to you, Miss Kim,” Kyungsoo surprises Joonmyun by saying, and she’s even more surprise to see he’s already standing up; she would never have been able to finish a cream horn so fast. He fishes his handkerchief out of his blazer’s pocket, carefully cleaning his face before dusting the crumbs off his hand and pants. Then, he offers his hand to Joonmyun, who’s even more hesitant to offer her own this time, not sure of what he intends to do. Despite that, he accepts her hand gallantly - and this time, he kisses it properly, bowing forward in a spotless chivalrous gesture.
“We should speak again soon,” he adds before letting her hand go, a subtle hint of a smile on his lips, and leaving her side. He walks back to where the adults must be discussing the current politics of roses, and is received warmly into the conversation by Joonmyun’s father, who pats him on the back and offers him a seat. Once again, Joonmyun takes a while to notice she has been staring, and promptly quits it, looking at her side to find Kyungsoo’s forgotten teacup there.
She sighs. It’s almost full, and there is an odd impulse inside of her to drink it just so it won’t be wasted; but that would be unthinkably rude of her, so she brushes the thought off immediately. For the rest of the meal, as she savors her sweets and slightly warm juice, she feels like the teacup is staring at her, mocking her the same way Kyungsoo had when he kissed her hand.
At night, when Joonmyun is brushing her hair before going to bed, there’s a knock on the door.
“It’s me,” Joonmyun hears her mother’s voice. “Mind if I go in?”
In all honestly, Joonmyun doesn’t like talking to her mother before bed; or rather, she fears it a little bit. Being alone with her mother has always been distressing for her.
“No, come in,” she answers resignedly, directing a sad glance to the mirror as the door clicks open, then closed. Mrs. Kim is still wearing the same outfit she has worn for dinner, a light lavender dress that reminds Joonmyun of a fading bruise. Joonmyun has never liked that dress.
“I’m so glad to have you home, love,” Mrs. Kim says, sitting down on Joonmyun’s bed. From the mirror of her dressing table, Joonmyun can easily catch her glance; she chooses not to, concentration on the brush in her hand instead. “This year, I’ll be a bit busy with research, but you may still talk to me whenever you want. Understood?”
“Sure, ma,” it’s what she always says. But, this year, there’s a difference. “Research with Doctor Do?”
“Precisely,” Mrs. Kim answers, clasping her hands together in delight. “It’s a big privilege that he wanted to study our garden! I still can’t quite wrap my head around it. He’s one of the most respected botanists of our time, you know,” Joonmyun quietly zones out as her mother goes on about how respected Do Hwangsoo is and how he fell in love with her garden - our garden, as she called it, even though Joonmyun had never done a thing in its favor - on a Sunday all but three months ago. As Joonmyun finishes brushing her long, black hair, she fishes a ribbon out from her small crystal casket and starts braiding it, concentrating on the process more than it’s necessary.
“… and what about Do Kyungsoo?”
She misses a turn, ruining a section of the braid. Sighing quietly, Joonmyun goes back a step. “What about him?” She asks back safely.
“Well, I’m asking you. I saw that you two talked this afternoon,” there’s a hint of humor in Mrs. Kim voice - one that, unfortunately, reminds Joonmyun of Kyungsoo’s jesting laugh. “What do you think of him?”
Joonmyun keeps quiet for a moment, thinking. “He’s nice to talk with,” she declares finally, not sure whether she’s telling a lie or not. “And he seems to be smart, too.”
“Oh, that he is,” the answer seems to please her mother, and she considers it a job well done. “I was hoping you would like him, since the two of you are about the same age. Well, he might be busy most of the time, but, if the two of you have time, would you take a stroll with him around the garden? Then maybe you can talk more.”
Joonmyun nods, pursing her lips as she ties the ribbon at the end of her braid. She figures that, if successfully entertains Do Kyungsoo in his free time, her mother will be happy enough to let Baekhyun and Jongdae visit eventually, so she complies. “I will, definitely,” is what she says, and her mother beams, getting up to kiss her forehead.
“Thank you, love,” she says, caressing Joonmyun’s cheek, and Joonmyun’s smile is quite a convincing one. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”
That night, right before falling asleep, Joonmyun thinks about school, and if she can convince the maid to prepare sweets for when she takes her stroll with Kyungsoo.
Despite all the thought Joonmyun has put in having to entertain Kyungsoo, three days go by and the boy is nowhere to be seen. Joonmyun only meets him during the meals, when he’ll passively take part of the adult’s conversation, and can’t seem to catch his shadow any other time. Soon, the initial excitement of a change fades, and her usual summer ennui leads Joonmyun to her most used room in the mansion; the music room.
She has picked up new pieces during the school year, which is a relief, for she can practice them instead of playing the same waltzes and minuets her mother had taught her when she was seven. Her family’s piano feels a bit different from the school’s piano, older, less reliable. She’s rather sure some keys are off-tune, but not enough to bother her, and she soon starts to play.
Just as she’s reaching the second movement, after stumbling through the first a few times, there’s a knock on the door. She halts, frowning at the strangeness of having someone interrupt her at a time like that, and briefly wonders if it’s Kyungsoo. It’s not; it’s a maid, one of the younger ones whose names Joonmyun can never quite remember.
“Please forgive me, Miss Kim,” the maid bows in apology. “There’s a phone call for you.”
Joonmyun widens her eyes in excitement, and quickly thanks the maid before rushing downstairs. A phone call for her must mean it’s either Baekhyun or Jongdae, finally making contact from their families’ homes.
“Yes, Kim Joonmyun speaking,” she greets when she picks up the phone, heavy and cold in her hands. She has been taught how to answer the phone, but doesn’t have much experience with it.
“Well, hello, Miss Kim Joonmyun, what an honor it is to speak to you,” that sardonic tone is no one’s but Jongdae’s. Joonmyun lets out a laugh, both at the jest and at the relief of finally speaking to one of her dear friends, and takes a seat on a nearby chair. “I’ll let you know that I would’ve called you later, but it seems like the phone is always taken these days. So? Are you fed with the roses yet?”
“Always,” Joonmyun sighs, the honesty allowing her to relax.
“Oh, darling. I’m truly sorry for taking so long to call,” Jongdae replies sympathetically, and Joonmyun can picture her face, the concerned frown, the twist of the lips. “Baekhyun told me she’d call as soon as she could. She hasn’t yet, has she?” Upon Joonmyun’s negative answer, Jongdae growls. “Must’ve forgotten. All she thinks about when she visits her grandmother is stuffing her face and showing off to her cousins.”
“I don’t think I’d be able to meet up with you just yet, though,” Joonmyun confesses, drawing imaginary patterns on the surface of the chair’s arm absentmindedly. “There’s something I must do first. Only then my mother would allow it, I believe.”
“Hm? An errand?” Jongdae sounds like she’s in slight disbelief. “What would it be?”
Joonmyun opens her mouth to answer - and hastily closes it as she notices Kyungsoo’s figure by the door.
“About that-I should talk to you later,” Joonmyun stutters out, suddenly aware of the un-lady-like posture she has assumed on the chair. She hastily fixes it, embarrassed.
“Oh, is it right now? Great. This means we shall meet soon then,” Jongdae’s carefree voice is a harsh contrast with the uncomfortable atmosphere between Joonmyun and Kyungsoo, whose eyes seem to be focused on a point above Joonmyun’s head. “I’ll call you later. And I’ll tell Baek to call you. Take care, will you?”
“I will. Thank you,” Joonmyun answers a bit sadly, not wanting to let go of the call so soon, but knowing she must. “Stay well.”
“You too. Bye-bye,” is the last thing Jongdae says before being replaced with silence. Joonmyun promptly hooks the speaker back into place, and turns to smile at Kyungsoo.
“Good afternoon,” she greets, getting up. Apparently, he had been admiring a painting, one that Joonmyun has taken for granted since she turned ten; a bouquet of large, white roses, with one single light pink one among them. In all honesty, Joonmyun failed to see what in the painting could’ve attracted such a fixed glance from the short boy.
“Good afternoon,” he eventually greets back, bowing in a brief curtsy. Even though it’s done properly, Joonmyun is not comfortable with it; she’s afraid he might be mocking her again. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your call. My apologies.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Kyungsoo. I was almost finished,” the lie slips out too easily. “Taking a break from the research?”
“As an apprentice, there’s only so much I can help with,” Kyungsoo replies, eyes travelling to one painting to another. Usually, Joonmyun would rarely remember the paintings were even there, so it’s strange to see someone appreciating them.
Straightening the skirt of her dress, Joonmyun gets to her feet. “So, since you’re free… would you like to take a stroll in the garden?” At her offer, Kyungsoo looks away from the paitings and glances right at her, into her eyes, as if scanning her intentions. Joonmyun almost takes a step back. “The weather is so pleasant today! And I’d like to hear from you about the roses.”
Kyungsoo frowns lightly. “I suppose you’ve heard enough from your mother about them,” it sounds like a question, and it makes Joonmyun feel slightly cornered.
“Well, yes,” she admits. “But… I thought you’d enjoy talking to me about them.”
The sentence feels so heavy in the air that Joonmyun starts thinking it must’ve been impolite of her to say so. No matter how much etiquette training she has had as a child, there are always situations textbook examples don’t cover, and that moment, Joonmyun is sure, it’s one of those situations. However, when she’s about to apologize for her indelicacy, Kyungsoo smiles - wide and pristine, startlingly sincere.
“I admit I would,” is what he says as he lowers his eyes, shrugging. Joonmyun thinks she knows what’s different about his smile this time - it reaches his eyes completely, in opposition to the slightly sardonic grin she had seen Saturday. It might be his genuine smile. “Thank you for offering, Miss Kim. I’d love to take a stroll in the garden with you.”
“Shall we go, then?” Happy to have succeeded at her task, Joonmyun is already guiding him outside the room, right to the front door, where she gets her hat and shawl. There, a maid is dusting the decoration, so Joonmyun communicates her that they’re going out for a bit.
“Should I prepare something for you to eat, miss?” The maid asks, not sparing a look to Kyungsoo. Joonmyun detects a hint of pink in the maid’s complexion, and the realization makes her want to giggle.
“What do you think?” Joonmyun asks Kyungsoo, who shrugs. Joonmyun decides to take the matter in hands. “We’ll pass for today, thank you. It won’t be long till we’re back.”
“Understood. Please excuse me,” the maid quickly scurries off, eyes trained on the floor, and Joonmyun lets a grin slip.
Outside, it’s very sunny, but not scorching hot; it’s comfortable enough for Joonmyun to forgo the parasol. With the hat on her head, she offers her arm to Kyungsoo, who accepts it a bit shyly. Ah, true, he was almost Joonmyun’s age… perhaps she should’ve let him offer her his arm instead… slightly embarrassed, Joonmyun clears her throat, but fails to find something to talk about, so they fall into silence.
That’s all she feared would happen. The atmosphere is quite suffocating, made even worse when they enter the garden, which always seemed to be so much more silent than the rest of the backyard that Joonmyun once thought she could hear her thoughts echo there. It’s terrible; she must find something to comment on, and quick, even if it makes her seem foolish.
“Mr. Kyungsoo, what do you think-” she must’ve startled him a little, for she feels his arm jerk up. Glancing at him, she lets their eyes meet. “Sorry. What do you think of the disposition of the garden? I mean, my mother’s idea of ordering them by color.”
“You mean the gradient she created?” Kyungsoo tilts his head to the side, as if giving it some thought. “I haven’t seen all of it, but she told us - me and my father, I mean - that she planted the roses so to create a gradient from caramel to red.”
“That’s what I meant. Thank you,” Joonmyun feels silly. “What do you think of it?”
At that, Kyungsoo looks away, frowning slightly. He lets go of Joonmyun’s arm, which leads her to halt still, rather confused. Kyungsoo walks straight over one of the sides of the passage they were following, kneeling down to study a bush more closely.
“I find it an interesting idea,” he finally answers, and Joonmyun moves closer to him. His fingers are grazing a large, light yellow flower, one with so many petals that Joonmyun finds it heavy to look at. “It’s rare for a garden to have an order so defined. Usually, the color arrangement is more abstract, but here’s it’s very direct and concrete. I find it admirable. It works well, too.”
Joonmyun nods, watching the way he delicately holds the rose up, as if to analyze it; then, apparently satisfied, Kyungsoo gets to his feet, dusting his knees carelessly.
“What do you think of it, Miss Kim?” Kyungsoo asks, resuming the walk, not offering his arm for Joonmyun to take. She follows him, and tilts her head to the side at the question.
“Excuse me?”
“What do you think of Mrs. Kim’s garden?” They’re in a transition section, the few meters between the entrance - walled by golden and light yellow roses - and the first atrium, which Joonmyun knows to be the place for the white roses. Where they are standing, the flowers are a gentle champagne color, so subtle that someone could easily take them for white.
Joonmyun bites her lip, thinking about what to answer. “Well, of course, I find it very beautiful,” she starts off safely, mentally counting how many steps would take them to the atrium. “I don’t know much about roses, though. My mother tried to teach me the technical details, but I never memorized them.”
Kyungsoo nods distractedly, eyes trained on the roses. “Perhaps you’re just not interested,” he comments offhandedly.
“No, that sure isn’t the case!” Another lie that comes out easily. “I do love the roses, Mr. Kyungsoo. I just don’t know them very well, when I truly wish I would.”
Too easily. Joonmyun is surprised by her own words. Where has that thought come from?
Kyungsoo seems to be thinking the same. He stares at Joonmyun analytically, as if studying possible causes for her to have said that, and the scrutiny makes Joonmyun’s cheeks heat up all so slightly. She faces away from him, glance falling on a nearby bush, one that bears cream-colored flowers with the faintest tinge of peach at the tip of its petals.
“My mother has some catalogues in the library,” she says, walking towards the bush to look at the roses from up close. “There, she has a list of all the roses she cultivates. Even ones that are still in the greenhouse. When I was small, I tried reading it,” once, when her twelve-year-old self had been bored out of her mind. “But I couldn’t finish it. There are too many things I don’t know.”
Perhaps she just wants to hear Kyungsoo talking about them. That must be it; she’s merely trying to entertain him. Or, perhaps, being with someone her age who likes the roses has broken her out from her disenchantment with the garden, and true interest is blooming inside of her at this very moment. For her, it’s still hard to tell. It’s a feeling that requires careful study.
Seeming to have reached the same conclusion as her, Kyungsoo walks towards her, and crouches near her feet to meet the bush at eye level. Joonmyun hesitates for a moment, then does the same, kneeling on the floor beside him.
“Let’s start with the basics then,” Kyungsoo says, studying the rose with a concentrated expression. “This one is a floribunda. You don’t know any of the classes, do you?” Joonmyun promptly shakes her head. “Very well. This class is called floribunda because it has many petals. It’s a hybrid class, originated from breeding polyantha roses with hybrid tea ones…”
They only leave the garden when the sun starts to set. By then, the gardeners have come out for maintenance, and both Kyungsoo and Joonmyun are quite hungry. To tease Joonmyun, Kyungsoo keeps talking about food until they reach the main house, and Joonmyun can do nothing but whine and plead him to stop.
“I might collapse from hunger,” she threatens at some point.
“I could carry you on my back,” Kyungsoo retorts, and Joonmyun can’t avoid the snort she lets out. “What’s that? You don’t think I can?”
“I’m sure you can, Mr. Kyungsoo,” she reassures him, but not very convincingly, and he shoots her a mock-disdain glance. She chuckles, adjusting her shawl over her shoulders. “Thank you for spending the afternoon with me. I had fun hearing about the roses from you.”
Kyungsoo smiles, surprisingly sweet and unguarded, and shrugs. “You’re welcome to invite me again anytime. You have yet to learn lots if you want to call yourself an amateur.”
“How cruel!” Joonmyun exclaims, laughing, and Kyungsoo laughs too. “I shan’t invite you out anymore. Next time, I’ll ask one of the gardeners to teach me instead.”
“That I can’t allow.” The remark is cheeky, and Joonmyun is ready to retort with an objection, but Kyungsoo adds, “I’d be in pain to see you learning from anyone else.”
And that single remark is enough to render Joonmyun silent.
At night, when Joonmyun is brushing her hair before going to bed, there’s a knock on the door. Joonmyun guesses it must be her mother, and has a brief dejá vu when telling the guest to come in. It’s no one but Mrs. Kim herself.
“Mind if I go in?” That night, she’s wearing a dark green dress, one that’s a bit loose on around her shoulders. Joonmyun consents, pausing the brush for a moment.
Mrs. Kim sits on Joonmyun’s bed. “I heard you went out with Kyungsoo today,” she starts off, voice perfectly neutral, and Joonmyun feels her blood run cold.
“Just to the garden,” she’s quick to say. “He seemed bored.”
Her mother nods slowly, eyes unfocused, pensive. Joonmyun feels like a cornered animal. “He taught me about the roses,” she adds, trying to justify herself. “It was interesting. I learnt about classes, and breeding.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Kim smiled, which gave Joonmyun a little relief. “I didn’t expect that. Did you have fun?”
“Yes. I feel a tad smarter.” At that, Joonmyun’s mother laughs heartily. She must be making fun of Joonmyun. It doesn’t matter; at least she’s in a good mood. “Mother… I’m sorry for changing the subject, but…”
It makes her mother tilt her head in curiosity. “What is it, love?” She’s still smiling.
“I… want your permission for something,” Joonmyun starts off.
part 1 → part 2
Rating: G
Pairing(s)/Focus: female!Suho/D.O
Length: ~14,000 words
Summary: Joonmyun doesn’t like roses - or, perhaps, she just doesn’t understand them.
Notes: written for soomyuns as part of suholidays. the universe this fic is set in is acronychal, similar in some aspects to early twentieth century Europe.
Joonmyun’s mother has a garden. A beautiful, enormous rose garden, the kind of garden that wins prizes, gains recognition, and takes over all of one’s free time. On the back side of their western-style mansion, the one Joonmyun has learned to associate with summertime and ennui, the rose garden covers several square miles with its variety of colors, shapes, and scents. For the first ten years of her life, Joonmyun loved the garden, ran along its endless corridors, spent entire afternoons near the fountain or, when it rained, sat under the gazebo’s roof, singing quietly to herself.
After leaving childhood behind, however, Joonmyun fell out of love with the roses, much preferring the music room, or the library, or going outside to have a picnic with her friends. Just as much as she started to look at herself in the mirror with a sense of boredom and incompleteness creeping around the corners of her eyes, she no longer saw beauty or originality in the garden’s varying hues of red and pink. If anything, there were days she despised them. Despised the roses, and the garden, and summertime.
She never told anyone, though. Joonmyun is a lady, one of the most well educated and refined of her time, and she’d never say something so rude about her mother’s masterpiece. On Sundays, when botanists and nobles came over to visit the garden, she’d try to smile with the same amount of pride that her mother displayed, as if she, too, loved the roses more than anything - or anyone - else.
After she turns thirteen, Joonmyun realizes she’d much rather stay in school for summer classes than going to the mansion, because she knows that in school she’ll have her classmates and teachers to talk to, and things beside playing the piano and rereading the same books to do. In the mansion’s library, there’s all but thirty books of fiction, and then hundreds and hundreds of books about roses. In the school’s library, Joonmyun finds all kinds of interesting stories, even ones that give her the feeling that she and her roommates shouldn’t be reading that, whispering and giggling when it’s way past bedtime. Yes… Joonmyun would much rather stay than spend three weeks in the lonely emptiness of the mansion, but her parents wouldn’t like that, and it’s not lady like to childishly demand something so egoistic. So, not once complaining, Joonmyun comes back every year, every summer, and admires the rose garden from the window of her room.
The year she turns sixteen, Joonmyun is tired. She has run out of songs to learn in the piano, and memorized each fictional story in the library. She figures she could try her hand at baking, but, at home economy classes in her school, she soon finds out that baking is much more tiresome than fun or educational. She dreads going back to the mansion so much that she loses her appetite for the last week of school, and her roommates worry about her.
“I’ll visit you,” Jongdae promises, her brows furrowed sadly as she combs Joonmyun’s hair with her favorite brush. For the past years, Joonmyun got used to having her hair brushed and braided by Jongdae before bedtime, all while listening to Jongdae and Baekhyun chat endlessly about their classmates and teachers. “I’ll visit you and bring the dirtiest books from my parents’ library for you to read.”
“If your parents let us, we could have a sleepover,” Baekhyun suggests, brushing her own hair with a much fancier brush. “Or maybe you could come to town! Grandma would love to have you over. She’d bake you sugar cookies and let you drink coffee. How’s that?”
Joonmyun smiles weakly. “I don’t think my parents would allow me,” she says weakly, smoothing the fabric of her nightgown. “At this age, they might fear I’ll bring shame to the family if I’m let out of their sight.”
“How could they? You’re such a proper lady,” Jongdae scrunches her nose. “You’ve never done anything remotely embarrassing to them. For what reason they’d be so weary of you?”
At that, Joonmyun shrugs. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Over the years, she has come to stop associating her parents’ approval with anything remotely fun.
“This year won’t be like the others,” Baekhyun stops brushing her hair in order to hold Joonmyun’s hand reassuringly, looking into the older girl’s eyes with seriousness rarely seen, thanks to her mischievous nature. “I promise. Jongdae and I won’t let you rot among your mother’s roses.”
And at that, Joonmyun laughs, because if she’s to die anytime soon, she’s sure it’ll be out of boredom, lost in that beautiful, dreadful garden.
And what a surprise it is when, as Joonmyun arrives at the mansion for that year’s summer, she finds out that things have changed not so slightly.
There’s a car beside her father’s in the garage. On Sundays, it’s not rare for the garage to be filled to the brim with black, sleek cars, with their wheels covered in mud from the trip as the scientists are guided inside by Mrs. Kim; when Joonmyun arrives, however, it’s a Saturday, and it’s very unusual for anyone to visit the mansion on any days beside Sunday, even if they’re relatives. Glancing at the old, slightly battered car as the chauffeur brings her luggage down from the trunk, Joonmyun faintly wonders who it might belong to. A friend of her father’s? A distant relative? Or, perhaps, someone she has been expecting for a long time?
“Joonmyun is here!” Joonmyun hears her father shout from the first floor. It’s the same every year. Joonmyun shall go in, be greeted by the maids and butlers, and hug her parents near the stairway as they ask her about the trip. She’ll give them vague answers, and climb to her room to unpack. Her mother will offer help, and she’ll refuse. They’ll then meet for dinner, and Joonmyun’s most hated weeks of the year will begin.
When she goes in, however, she finds strangers in the familiar scenery. The maids greet her like they always do, and so do the butlers, but, at the top of the stairway, two unknown people stand beside her parents. One of them is an old, small man, dressed in a worn out brown suit; the other is a young boy, even smaller than the old man, soberly clad in similar, but much newer, attire. Joonmyun faintly wonders if the boy is even old enough to be wearing anything but summer suits at that time of the year; then, she realizes it must be very rude to just stand still and silently stare.
“Good afternoon,” she greets with a brief curtsy, letting a maid take her hat and scarf to her room. At the top of the stairway, her mother smiles, and climbs down to give Joonmyun a hug.
“Welcome home, love,” she greets, and it’s the first time in years she has given Joonmyun such a warm greeting. Around them, the butlers are quick to pick up Joonmyun’s luggage. “We were so eager to see you at once! How was the trip?”
“Pleasant,” Joonmyun answers with a smile, glad to be received so well. “Such agreeable weather for a Saturday, too.”
“Indeed, it is,” her mother smiles back at her, turning around and standing beside Joonmyun so to showcase her to the two unknown visitors. “Gentlemen, this is my only daughter, Joonmyun. Joonmyun, these are Doctor Do Hwangsoo,” she gestures the old man, who makes a brief curtsy, “and his son and apprentice, Kyungsoo,” the boy makes the same curtsy, expression unchanging. “They’ll be residing with us for the summer. Doctor Do is one of the most influential living botanists of our time.”
“You flatter me, Mrs. Kim,” Do Hwangsoo says, brushing the compliments off timidly as he climbed down the stairs. His humbleness and lack of distinct elegance only help Joonmyun to be convinced that the man is a brilliant scientist, and the gentle way how he kisses her hand give Joonmyun the feeling that he must be a good person. “I apologise for imposing like this in your household. We promise not to bother you much.”
“Nonsense, Doctor,” Joonmyun replies with her gentlest smile. “It is an honor for me and my family to have such a brilliant man among us. We shan’t fail to provide you anything you need for your comfort.”
From the sidelines, Mrs. Kim watches, seeming to be proud of Joonmyun’s manners. It makes Joonmyun feel a bit lighter, much lighter than she had been the past week, when thoughts of summer weighed her down.
“You must be tired, darling,” says Mrs. Kim, walking towards Joonmyun and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you go upstairs and unpack while I prepare the tea? Today, we’re intending to have tea at the garden. How’s that?”
They have tea at the garden every Sunday, when the weather is favorable. Usually, a big table is put together by the maids at the center of the garden, near the water fountain, and there they serve many refined snacks and a diverse variety of teas, and even Joonmyun, who feels rather out of place among all the rose enthusiasts, enjoys the event and eats to her heart’s contents. For today, Joonmyun is quite sure they won’t have a table as big as the one they have for Sunday, but her eyes brighten at the prospect.
“That would be lovely!” She exclaims happily, perhaps a little too enthusiastic. Her mother’s smile widens.
“It’s settled then! Now if you excuse me,” she bids them all goodbye with a curtsy. As if following a cue, Do Hwangsoo immediately starts talking to Joonmyun’s father about something; probably a conversation they had put on hold when Joonmyun’s arrive was announced.
Seeing she has no business there, and that she still has to unpack and change her clothes, Joonmyun starts climbing up the stairs. As her father and Do Hwangsoo pass past her, she makes a small curtsy, which goes unnoticed by both - and as she turns around to resume her climb, her eyes are met with a glance from Do Kyungsoo.
It’s brief, but sudden, and the surprise makes her go still for the slightest of the seconds. The boy looks like he has been caught staring, and bows very timidly before scurrying off to follow the two adult men, who start to retreat to outside. It takes Joonmyun a minute for her to notice that her eyes followed Do Kyungsoo’s small frame, from the moment their eyes met to when he disappears behind the front door. When she does notice, she shakes her head, mentally chastising herself, and goes back to going up to her bedroom.
The tea is served at half past four, and Joonmyun’s eyes twinkle when she spots all her favorite treats on silver trays over the white linen tablecloth. Her mother looks subtly stunning in her best summer dress, gleaming like gold when Do Hwangsoo lets her talk about the roses; soon enough, her, the botanist, and Joonmyun’s father - not a botanist, nor a roses enthusiast, but a naturally curious man - find themselves engaged in a pleasant conversation about rose gardens, contests, rose breeds, and similar subjects. Joonmyun is all too used to that, and finds contentment in sitting the nearest she can of the fountain, a plate full of pastries placed on her lap.
Even though Joonmyun is quite sick of the garden for now, she can’t claim it to be a completely familiar sight. She has sat by the fountain several times in the past years, and there was always something new to see; a bush that had flowered more generously than the year before, or a new species blending in with the others, or even a complete change in the garden’s configuration. From what Joonmyun could remember from the past years, it seemed like her mother had decided to redirect the red roses to further back in the garden, leaving the surrounds of the fountain walled in pink. Joonmyun tries to picture the gazebo now; in the past, that had been an area of, mostly, white roses. Now, they’re probably red. Perhaps her mother was planning an expansion…
“Mind if I sit here?”
Joonmyun jumps slightly, and some crumbs fall from her plate onto her lap. When she looks up, she sees Do Kyungsoo, holding a teacup and a saucer, facing her with his perfectly neutral expression. Cursing her own rudeness at being surprised, she smiles sweetly at him, consenting with a, “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”
He then sits down, putting a polite distance between himself and Joonmyun, and she can already feel the silence start to weigh on her shoulders. When she was a child, her mother taught her to always start conversations with your guests, but Joonmyun can’t claim to be the best at the art of conversation.
“I must apologize to you.” To Joonmyun’s surprise, it’s Kyungsoo who speaks. He sounds emotionless, polite. “I didn’t greet you properly when we first met. It was rude of me.”
“Oh, don’t mind!” She brushes it off. “It was indelicate of me not to greet you either. I, too, apologize.”
At that, Kyungsoo’s expression changes the slightest bit. There’s the faintest pull on the corner of his lips, and Joonmyun can’t tell if that’s a smile or an expression of distaste. However, it’s gone as soon as it came, and Kyungsoo rests his cup on his saucer in order to offer his hand to Joonmyun. “Enchanted to meet you, milady. My name is Do Kyungsoo.”
Now, Joonmyun is quite sure Kyungsoo is mocking her, but she can’t help but laugh. “The pleasure is all mine,” she says, offering her own hand timidly, but, instead of kissing it, Kyungsoo shakes it, like Joonmyun has seen men do to each other when scientists visit at Sundays. It has her at a loss, but Kyungsoo seems not to notice. Instead, he turns back to the table. “Mrs. Kim told me we’re about the same age,” he comments, taking a sip of his tea.
“Really?” Joonmyun tries not to look too surprised; it’s impolite. Kyungsoo nods.
“She said you’re all but two years older than me,” he adds, and now there’s no hiding Joonmyun’s surprise. Even though he isn’t looking directly at her, he seems to notice, and smiles for the first time. “Shocked?”
“You must forgive me,” she mutters, slightly ashamed. “I… you seem to be quite younger than that, Mr. Do.”
“Kyungsoo,” he corrects, smiling even wider. Yes, he must be definitely mocking her. “Since you’re older than me, there’s no need for such undeserved formality.”
“Mr. Kyungsoo it is, then,” she corrects herself, but it doesn’t seem to be what Kyungsoo meant, as he sighs almost imperceptibly. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ve never met any boys my age, so I don’t know what they’re supposed to look like.”
And at that - even though Joonmyun is sure she has said nothing funny - Kyungsoo lets out a quiet, brief laugh. The gesture seems to change his facial features, smoothen the sharp edges around his large, analytic eyes; Joonmyun blinks, a tad bit confused. But then again… perhaps he had found funny how a woman her age had never seen a young man before. Thinking from that angle, it was a quite strange thing to say. Joonmyun found herself regretting her poor conversational skills.
“Say, Miss Kim…” he starts suddenly, taking another sip of his tea. “Out of all the pastries on the table, which one is your favorite?”
She blinks, slightly taken aback by the change of subject. Within a brief minute of thought, she purses her lips. “Um…” her eyes scan the table while her brain lists all the treats she has had that afternoon. “The cream horns.” Then, remembering that she still has some on her plate - one of which has been bit already - she redirects her gaze to her lap. “They’re delicious, Mr. Kyungsoo. Would you like to try one?” she offers, raising her plate.
“May I?” He asks politely, even waiting for her confirmation before taking the intact cream horn. As Kyungsoo bites down on the pastry, Joonmyun decides that she, too, shouldn’t neglect hers; however, perhaps due to the nervousness of being in close companion with a stranger, she bites it too clumsily, causing the pastry to shower the plate and her lap with crumbs. Flushing bright red, Joonmyun tries to clean herself before Kyungsoo would notice, not wanting him to laugh at her again.
“This really is quite good,” he says, eyeing the pastry with certain amazement. “I had never tried one before.”
“I should ask my mother to serve it more often, then,” Joonmyun replies, noticing a smudge of cream near Kyungsoo’s mouth and debating whether to warn him or not. Ultimately, she decides to keep quiet about it. “The strawberry ones are my favorite, but there are other flavors that are just as good.”
Kyungsoo nods, taking another bite of the cream horn. Joonmyun watches him for a second, as if studying the way he eats, before turning back to her pastry. At that time, his tea must’ve certainly gotten cold. But then again, the glass of juice on Joonmyun’s right side has most certainly gotten warm…
“It was nice talking to you, Miss Kim,” Kyungsoo surprises Joonmyun by saying, and she’s even more surprise to see he’s already standing up; she would never have been able to finish a cream horn so fast. He fishes his handkerchief out of his blazer’s pocket, carefully cleaning his face before dusting the crumbs off his hand and pants. Then, he offers his hand to Joonmyun, who’s even more hesitant to offer her own this time, not sure of what he intends to do. Despite that, he accepts her hand gallantly - and this time, he kisses it properly, bowing forward in a spotless chivalrous gesture.
“We should speak again soon,” he adds before letting her hand go, a subtle hint of a smile on his lips, and leaving her side. He walks back to where the adults must be discussing the current politics of roses, and is received warmly into the conversation by Joonmyun’s father, who pats him on the back and offers him a seat. Once again, Joonmyun takes a while to notice she has been staring, and promptly quits it, looking at her side to find Kyungsoo’s forgotten teacup there.
She sighs. It’s almost full, and there is an odd impulse inside of her to drink it just so it won’t be wasted; but that would be unthinkably rude of her, so she brushes the thought off immediately. For the rest of the meal, as she savors her sweets and slightly warm juice, she feels like the teacup is staring at her, mocking her the same way Kyungsoo had when he kissed her hand.
At night, when Joonmyun is brushing her hair before going to bed, there’s a knock on the door.
“It’s me,” Joonmyun hears her mother’s voice. “Mind if I go in?”
In all honestly, Joonmyun doesn’t like talking to her mother before bed; or rather, she fears it a little bit. Being alone with her mother has always been distressing for her.
“No, come in,” she answers resignedly, directing a sad glance to the mirror as the door clicks open, then closed. Mrs. Kim is still wearing the same outfit she has worn for dinner, a light lavender dress that reminds Joonmyun of a fading bruise. Joonmyun has never liked that dress.
“I’m so glad to have you home, love,” Mrs. Kim says, sitting down on Joonmyun’s bed. From the mirror of her dressing table, Joonmyun can easily catch her glance; she chooses not to, concentration on the brush in her hand instead. “This year, I’ll be a bit busy with research, but you may still talk to me whenever you want. Understood?”
“Sure, ma,” it’s what she always says. But, this year, there’s a difference. “Research with Doctor Do?”
“Precisely,” Mrs. Kim answers, clasping her hands together in delight. “It’s a big privilege that he wanted to study our garden! I still can’t quite wrap my head around it. He’s one of the most respected botanists of our time, you know,” Joonmyun quietly zones out as her mother goes on about how respected Do Hwangsoo is and how he fell in love with her garden - our garden, as she called it, even though Joonmyun had never done a thing in its favor - on a Sunday all but three months ago. As Joonmyun finishes brushing her long, black hair, she fishes a ribbon out from her small crystal casket and starts braiding it, concentrating on the process more than it’s necessary.
“… and what about Do Kyungsoo?”
She misses a turn, ruining a section of the braid. Sighing quietly, Joonmyun goes back a step. “What about him?” She asks back safely.
“Well, I’m asking you. I saw that you two talked this afternoon,” there’s a hint of humor in Mrs. Kim voice - one that, unfortunately, reminds Joonmyun of Kyungsoo’s jesting laugh. “What do you think of him?”
Joonmyun keeps quiet for a moment, thinking. “He’s nice to talk with,” she declares finally, not sure whether she’s telling a lie or not. “And he seems to be smart, too.”
“Oh, that he is,” the answer seems to please her mother, and she considers it a job well done. “I was hoping you would like him, since the two of you are about the same age. Well, he might be busy most of the time, but, if the two of you have time, would you take a stroll with him around the garden? Then maybe you can talk more.”
Joonmyun nods, pursing her lips as she ties the ribbon at the end of her braid. She figures that, if successfully entertains Do Kyungsoo in his free time, her mother will be happy enough to let Baekhyun and Jongdae visit eventually, so she complies. “I will, definitely,” is what she says, and her mother beams, getting up to kiss her forehead.
“Thank you, love,” she says, caressing Joonmyun’s cheek, and Joonmyun’s smile is quite a convincing one. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”
That night, right before falling asleep, Joonmyun thinks about school, and if she can convince the maid to prepare sweets for when she takes her stroll with Kyungsoo.
Despite all the thought Joonmyun has put in having to entertain Kyungsoo, three days go by and the boy is nowhere to be seen. Joonmyun only meets him during the meals, when he’ll passively take part of the adult’s conversation, and can’t seem to catch his shadow any other time. Soon, the initial excitement of a change fades, and her usual summer ennui leads Joonmyun to her most used room in the mansion; the music room.
She has picked up new pieces during the school year, which is a relief, for she can practice them instead of playing the same waltzes and minuets her mother had taught her when she was seven. Her family’s piano feels a bit different from the school’s piano, older, less reliable. She’s rather sure some keys are off-tune, but not enough to bother her, and she soon starts to play.
Just as she’s reaching the second movement, after stumbling through the first a few times, there’s a knock on the door. She halts, frowning at the strangeness of having someone interrupt her at a time like that, and briefly wonders if it’s Kyungsoo. It’s not; it’s a maid, one of the younger ones whose names Joonmyun can never quite remember.
“Please forgive me, Miss Kim,” the maid bows in apology. “There’s a phone call for you.”
Joonmyun widens her eyes in excitement, and quickly thanks the maid before rushing downstairs. A phone call for her must mean it’s either Baekhyun or Jongdae, finally making contact from their families’ homes.
“Yes, Kim Joonmyun speaking,” she greets when she picks up the phone, heavy and cold in her hands. She has been taught how to answer the phone, but doesn’t have much experience with it.
“Well, hello, Miss Kim Joonmyun, what an honor it is to speak to you,” that sardonic tone is no one’s but Jongdae’s. Joonmyun lets out a laugh, both at the jest and at the relief of finally speaking to one of her dear friends, and takes a seat on a nearby chair. “I’ll let you know that I would’ve called you later, but it seems like the phone is always taken these days. So? Are you fed with the roses yet?”
“Always,” Joonmyun sighs, the honesty allowing her to relax.
“Oh, darling. I’m truly sorry for taking so long to call,” Jongdae replies sympathetically, and Joonmyun can picture her face, the concerned frown, the twist of the lips. “Baekhyun told me she’d call as soon as she could. She hasn’t yet, has she?” Upon Joonmyun’s negative answer, Jongdae growls. “Must’ve forgotten. All she thinks about when she visits her grandmother is stuffing her face and showing off to her cousins.”
“I don’t think I’d be able to meet up with you just yet, though,” Joonmyun confesses, drawing imaginary patterns on the surface of the chair’s arm absentmindedly. “There’s something I must do first. Only then my mother would allow it, I believe.”
“Hm? An errand?” Jongdae sounds like she’s in slight disbelief. “What would it be?”
Joonmyun opens her mouth to answer - and hastily closes it as she notices Kyungsoo’s figure by the door.
“About that-I should talk to you later,” Joonmyun stutters out, suddenly aware of the un-lady-like posture she has assumed on the chair. She hastily fixes it, embarrassed.
“Oh, is it right now? Great. This means we shall meet soon then,” Jongdae’s carefree voice is a harsh contrast with the uncomfortable atmosphere between Joonmyun and Kyungsoo, whose eyes seem to be focused on a point above Joonmyun’s head. “I’ll call you later. And I’ll tell Baek to call you. Take care, will you?”
“I will. Thank you,” Joonmyun answers a bit sadly, not wanting to let go of the call so soon, but knowing she must. “Stay well.”
“You too. Bye-bye,” is the last thing Jongdae says before being replaced with silence. Joonmyun promptly hooks the speaker back into place, and turns to smile at Kyungsoo.
“Good afternoon,” she greets, getting up. Apparently, he had been admiring a painting, one that Joonmyun has taken for granted since she turned ten; a bouquet of large, white roses, with one single light pink one among them. In all honesty, Joonmyun failed to see what in the painting could’ve attracted such a fixed glance from the short boy.
“Good afternoon,” he eventually greets back, bowing in a brief curtsy. Even though it’s done properly, Joonmyun is not comfortable with it; she’s afraid he might be mocking her again. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your call. My apologies.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Kyungsoo. I was almost finished,” the lie slips out too easily. “Taking a break from the research?”
“As an apprentice, there’s only so much I can help with,” Kyungsoo replies, eyes travelling to one painting to another. Usually, Joonmyun would rarely remember the paintings were even there, so it’s strange to see someone appreciating them.
Straightening the skirt of her dress, Joonmyun gets to her feet. “So, since you’re free… would you like to take a stroll in the garden?” At her offer, Kyungsoo looks away from the paitings and glances right at her, into her eyes, as if scanning her intentions. Joonmyun almost takes a step back. “The weather is so pleasant today! And I’d like to hear from you about the roses.”
Kyungsoo frowns lightly. “I suppose you’ve heard enough from your mother about them,” it sounds like a question, and it makes Joonmyun feel slightly cornered.
“Well, yes,” she admits. “But… I thought you’d enjoy talking to me about them.”
The sentence feels so heavy in the air that Joonmyun starts thinking it must’ve been impolite of her to say so. No matter how much etiquette training she has had as a child, there are always situations textbook examples don’t cover, and that moment, Joonmyun is sure, it’s one of those situations. However, when she’s about to apologize for her indelicacy, Kyungsoo smiles - wide and pristine, startlingly sincere.
“I admit I would,” is what he says as he lowers his eyes, shrugging. Joonmyun thinks she knows what’s different about his smile this time - it reaches his eyes completely, in opposition to the slightly sardonic grin she had seen Saturday. It might be his genuine smile. “Thank you for offering, Miss Kim. I’d love to take a stroll in the garden with you.”
“Shall we go, then?” Happy to have succeeded at her task, Joonmyun is already guiding him outside the room, right to the front door, where she gets her hat and shawl. There, a maid is dusting the decoration, so Joonmyun communicates her that they’re going out for a bit.
“Should I prepare something for you to eat, miss?” The maid asks, not sparing a look to Kyungsoo. Joonmyun detects a hint of pink in the maid’s complexion, and the realization makes her want to giggle.
“What do you think?” Joonmyun asks Kyungsoo, who shrugs. Joonmyun decides to take the matter in hands. “We’ll pass for today, thank you. It won’t be long till we’re back.”
“Understood. Please excuse me,” the maid quickly scurries off, eyes trained on the floor, and Joonmyun lets a grin slip.
Outside, it’s very sunny, but not scorching hot; it’s comfortable enough for Joonmyun to forgo the parasol. With the hat on her head, she offers her arm to Kyungsoo, who accepts it a bit shyly. Ah, true, he was almost Joonmyun’s age… perhaps she should’ve let him offer her his arm instead… slightly embarrassed, Joonmyun clears her throat, but fails to find something to talk about, so they fall into silence.
That’s all she feared would happen. The atmosphere is quite suffocating, made even worse when they enter the garden, which always seemed to be so much more silent than the rest of the backyard that Joonmyun once thought she could hear her thoughts echo there. It’s terrible; she must find something to comment on, and quick, even if it makes her seem foolish.
“Mr. Kyungsoo, what do you think-” she must’ve startled him a little, for she feels his arm jerk up. Glancing at him, she lets their eyes meet. “Sorry. What do you think of the disposition of the garden? I mean, my mother’s idea of ordering them by color.”
“You mean the gradient she created?” Kyungsoo tilts his head to the side, as if giving it some thought. “I haven’t seen all of it, but she told us - me and my father, I mean - that she planted the roses so to create a gradient from caramel to red.”
“That’s what I meant. Thank you,” Joonmyun feels silly. “What do you think of it?”
At that, Kyungsoo looks away, frowning slightly. He lets go of Joonmyun’s arm, which leads her to halt still, rather confused. Kyungsoo walks straight over one of the sides of the passage they were following, kneeling down to study a bush more closely.
“I find it an interesting idea,” he finally answers, and Joonmyun moves closer to him. His fingers are grazing a large, light yellow flower, one with so many petals that Joonmyun finds it heavy to look at. “It’s rare for a garden to have an order so defined. Usually, the color arrangement is more abstract, but here’s it’s very direct and concrete. I find it admirable. It works well, too.”
Joonmyun nods, watching the way he delicately holds the rose up, as if to analyze it; then, apparently satisfied, Kyungsoo gets to his feet, dusting his knees carelessly.
“What do you think of it, Miss Kim?” Kyungsoo asks, resuming the walk, not offering his arm for Joonmyun to take. She follows him, and tilts her head to the side at the question.
“Excuse me?”
“What do you think of Mrs. Kim’s garden?” They’re in a transition section, the few meters between the entrance - walled by golden and light yellow roses - and the first atrium, which Joonmyun knows to be the place for the white roses. Where they are standing, the flowers are a gentle champagne color, so subtle that someone could easily take them for white.
Joonmyun bites her lip, thinking about what to answer. “Well, of course, I find it very beautiful,” she starts off safely, mentally counting how many steps would take them to the atrium. “I don’t know much about roses, though. My mother tried to teach me the technical details, but I never memorized them.”
Kyungsoo nods distractedly, eyes trained on the roses. “Perhaps you’re just not interested,” he comments offhandedly.
“No, that sure isn’t the case!” Another lie that comes out easily. “I do love the roses, Mr. Kyungsoo. I just don’t know them very well, when I truly wish I would.”
Too easily. Joonmyun is surprised by her own words. Where has that thought come from?
Kyungsoo seems to be thinking the same. He stares at Joonmyun analytically, as if studying possible causes for her to have said that, and the scrutiny makes Joonmyun’s cheeks heat up all so slightly. She faces away from him, glance falling on a nearby bush, one that bears cream-colored flowers with the faintest tinge of peach at the tip of its petals.
“My mother has some catalogues in the library,” she says, walking towards the bush to look at the roses from up close. “There, she has a list of all the roses she cultivates. Even ones that are still in the greenhouse. When I was small, I tried reading it,” once, when her twelve-year-old self had been bored out of her mind. “But I couldn’t finish it. There are too many things I don’t know.”
Perhaps she just wants to hear Kyungsoo talking about them. That must be it; she’s merely trying to entertain him. Or, perhaps, being with someone her age who likes the roses has broken her out from her disenchantment with the garden, and true interest is blooming inside of her at this very moment. For her, it’s still hard to tell. It’s a feeling that requires careful study.
Seeming to have reached the same conclusion as her, Kyungsoo walks towards her, and crouches near her feet to meet the bush at eye level. Joonmyun hesitates for a moment, then does the same, kneeling on the floor beside him.
“Let’s start with the basics then,” Kyungsoo says, studying the rose with a concentrated expression. “This one is a floribunda. You don’t know any of the classes, do you?” Joonmyun promptly shakes her head. “Very well. This class is called floribunda because it has many petals. It’s a hybrid class, originated from breeding polyantha roses with hybrid tea ones…”
They only leave the garden when the sun starts to set. By then, the gardeners have come out for maintenance, and both Kyungsoo and Joonmyun are quite hungry. To tease Joonmyun, Kyungsoo keeps talking about food until they reach the main house, and Joonmyun can do nothing but whine and plead him to stop.
“I might collapse from hunger,” she threatens at some point.
“I could carry you on my back,” Kyungsoo retorts, and Joonmyun can’t avoid the snort she lets out. “What’s that? You don’t think I can?”
“I’m sure you can, Mr. Kyungsoo,” she reassures him, but not very convincingly, and he shoots her a mock-disdain glance. She chuckles, adjusting her shawl over her shoulders. “Thank you for spending the afternoon with me. I had fun hearing about the roses from you.”
Kyungsoo smiles, surprisingly sweet and unguarded, and shrugs. “You’re welcome to invite me again anytime. You have yet to learn lots if you want to call yourself an amateur.”
“How cruel!” Joonmyun exclaims, laughing, and Kyungsoo laughs too. “I shan’t invite you out anymore. Next time, I’ll ask one of the gardeners to teach me instead.”
“That I can’t allow.” The remark is cheeky, and Joonmyun is ready to retort with an objection, but Kyungsoo adds, “I’d be in pain to see you learning from anyone else.”
And that single remark is enough to render Joonmyun silent.
At night, when Joonmyun is brushing her hair before going to bed, there’s a knock on the door. Joonmyun guesses it must be her mother, and has a brief dejá vu when telling the guest to come in. It’s no one but Mrs. Kim herself.
“Mind if I go in?” That night, she’s wearing a dark green dress, one that’s a bit loose on around her shoulders. Joonmyun consents, pausing the brush for a moment.
Mrs. Kim sits on Joonmyun’s bed. “I heard you went out with Kyungsoo today,” she starts off, voice perfectly neutral, and Joonmyun feels her blood run cold.
“Just to the garden,” she’s quick to say. “He seemed bored.”
Her mother nods slowly, eyes unfocused, pensive. Joonmyun feels like a cornered animal. “He taught me about the roses,” she adds, trying to justify herself. “It was interesting. I learnt about classes, and breeding.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Kim smiled, which gave Joonmyun a little relief. “I didn’t expect that. Did you have fun?”
“Yes. I feel a tad smarter.” At that, Joonmyun’s mother laughs heartily. She must be making fun of Joonmyun. It doesn’t matter; at least she’s in a good mood. “Mother… I’m sorry for changing the subject, but…”
It makes her mother tilt her head in curiosity. “What is it, love?” She’s still smiling.
“I… want your permission for something,” Joonmyun starts off.
part 1 → part 2