Bloom | Namjoon x Reader

Three

A glance at the counter tells you that any employees here are thankfully absent. Hidden behind several, giant potted plants, you watch as your pursuer runs out past the glass window. He looks around, turns a few times, but can't find who he's looking for. Afraid he'll look into the shop, you turn as well, focusing on the table behind you. Which just so happens to be laden with flowers, delicate and exploding with color.

It occurs to you that you've never been in a flower shop before. While the scent of the blossoms was overwhelming at first, your nose is steadily becoming accustomed to the sweetness that is nature coming to life. There's no harm in taking a few more minutes here, you think as you take steps towards the table. You have to wait out the man outside anyway. And curiosity has always been one of your vices.

The flower that catches your eye is circular in shape; its oval, almost-spikey petals are dyed in a soft pink. It sits elegantly in its pot, a single floret amidst a bed of green. You reach out for it with a palm, not wanting to crush or ruin anything as you cradle it in your warmth. You don't notice the soft smile waning your lips as you memorize its curves. You haven't the slightest idea what kind of flower it is, but you can't remember the last time you saw something this beautiful.

"I see you're fond of the dahlia."

"Oh!" Caught off guard by the sudden voice, your hand jerks up. The pot shakes violently from the sudden movement. It spins, wobbling over and—

"Whoa!" All you see is a flash of dark hair and flying clothes as the speaker hurtles towards you. He catches the pot just as its about to tip over. Then he sets it back onto the counter. "Phew... That was close." He's squatting, tall enough to still comfortably reach the pot as he gives the dahlia a light pat.

"Sorry! I'm sorry." You hide both hands behind your back, not wanting to accidentally ruin anything else.

In response, he offers you a dimpled smile that does the opposite of setting your heart at ease. "No worries. I'm sorry I scared you. Are you alright?" He stands up, faces you.

"Yes, I'm fine. But is the flower okay? The, uh, dahlia?" You're trying your best not to stare, but that's a difficult task when he goes to brush his bangs back, taut arm muscles shifting along with it. His outfit is simple, a white tee and black jeans, with a stained black apron thrown overtop, but there's something oddly attractive about it.

"She's fine too." There's a fondness when he stares at the bloom, a tenderness that makes you feel more like the intruder you are in this precious space. "She's been giving me trouble during growth so I'm a bit overprotective. Haven't you, girl?" He chuckles lightly at himself, covering his lips with his palm as if he's embarrassed.

"That's cute," you blurt out before you can help yourself.

"Is it?" That makes him smile again, and you swear your cheeks flush. He makes sure the dahlia is secure before he looks back at you. You follow his eyes as they rake across your outfit, taking in the formal dress and diamonds. "It can't be comfortable walking around in that all day. Me, I prefer jeans over heels." He laughs, and you can't help joining him.

"No, no, I was at an event."

"Oh, at the hotel?" You raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to know of it. "A few people came in to buy bouquets and wreaths for it earlier."

"Ah, right. I remember seeing them. They're beautiful. You did a fantastic job."

"Thanks." You're beginning to realize it makes him shy to receive compliments, from the way he breaks your gaze to stare distractedly at the dahlia with lightly pinking cheeks. "So, why aren't you there now?"

"I can't stand those kinds of events." It's not technically a lie. "They're always boring."

"Why do you go then?"