The Bouquet

Chapter 2

Min Yoongi was not the most social person. Being the heir of a large business tended to reel in selfish people who wanted to use him for his status. From the moment he was born, his fate was sealed. For as long as he could remember, his childhood was not normal. He had no friends but he always got what he wanted.

He was the epitome of a spoiled child, but nothing ever fully satisfied him. His father was a strict man who had conditioned his son to be the perfect heir, his mother was a sweet woman who constantly bowed to her husband's will. Yoongi's relationship with his father was a strange one, if anything it worked much like a coin toss: there was a fifty percent chance they would butt heads and a fifty percent change they would get along. He could respect him for his knowledge while simultaneously hating him for choosing his life for his son.

Min Yoongi was just as notorious as his father, but for very different reasons. Yoongi was attractive and he knew it. His face was plastered on numerous magazines talking about the young, rich, single heir to a massive business. And because of this, he attracted a lot of unwanted attention from many women.

When he was younger and much more reckless, he loved to indulge in their advances. But, he had grown to hate them as well as envy them. These women reminded him of leeches: seemingly harmless until they latched on and bled you dry. But, at the end of the day, they got to live normal lives free of the media, free of constraints, and free to choose their paths in life. It was a dangerous balance for him, his hatred and his envy, but it still hadn't proved to be that great of a problem.

He always thought he was good at reading people, it was a skill that was necessary in his line of work. But you, you were different. And by different, he meant clueless. It amazed him that the doe-eyed barista didn't know his name. For the most part, everyone knew who he was. But you didn't, and to him, that was akin to a dessert one rarely got to have. And he wanted more of it. Before long, he found himself back at Omela's every day. He became your regular, learning your work schedule so that he would only have you take his orders and only have you make his drinks.

His downward spiral began slowly, but once it began it was so hard to stop. He could feel himself plunging deeper and deeper each time he got to see you. To him, he was simply interested in you. You were so different from everyone he knew and that was why he paid so much attention to you, at least that was what he would tell himself to justify seeing you. When he was with you he tended to make an effort to actually speak to you, little comments here and there asking you about your day and all of the basic small talks one would have. But before he left the shop, he always gave you a compliment that would make your body warm. It became a little game for him, he always challenged himself to make you more flustered each time he saw you. And it was oh so satisfying.

Each time he saw you and teased you, you tried your best to remain composed. Where his comments were pleasant and borderline flirtatious, yours were always the same bland responses: "Will that be all today?" and "Have a nice day." as well as "Thank you for stopping by." To him, nothing could be more frustrating than to hear you speak to him like you did to everyone else.

He was a man used to getting everything he wanted and never being completely satisfied, and this was most definitely not what he wanted. In that sense he was much like a child still, at least around you he was. The minute he stepped foot outside of Omela's he went back to wearing the same persona he always took on in the face of others: the cool, stoic, calculating businessman. From that moment forward he made it a personal goal of his, to crack open your fake smile and see what was really going on inside that pretty little head of yours. You were going to be his little side project, whether you knew it or not.

And a project you were, being a barista meant you didn't have much time to spend on each customer. You were constantly running around trying to fill everyone's orders leaving a very small window for him to talk to you. Coming later was not that much of an option either and you always ran off somewhere else. So he tried his best to learn the lighter traffic hours within the shop, leaving one of his trusted employees in his place while he went to visit you. If anything were to come out of all of this work it would be an even worse addiction to caffeine.