the florist and the painter » vhope

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❝Flowers are restful to look at.
They have neither emotions nor conflicts,❞

    -  Sigmund Freud

Nature's best creation was the flower. Don't argue with me, because it is true.

Flowers are the sun, lighting up the day with its beautiful color and such. And when the flower garden withers and dies, it's like the sun going down and the moon shining to own the night. Even though when a flower wilts and the beautiful petals fall off its stem, there can still be beauty in it, even if the petals were brown.
He would find himself laying in a field full of them for hours and he would only shut his eyes and let his mind daze off into a peaceful sleep.Hoseok found beauty in all the flowers around him, they would tickle his skin whenever he brought them close, the bright colors always attracted and were a fascination in his eyes; they always seemed more important than anything and anyone else. It seemed like flowers were the only way out of the thing we call existence.

Or, so he thought.

Taehyung painted the most vivid of things, from sunsets to sunrises, from air balloons to airplanes; from trees to flowers, everything.Everything around him was like art itself: being painted by someone brilliant and placed for people to see its beauty. The boy would see lines being drawn over everything he saw, shapes crafted right in front of his eyes. "My boy, the world is like a painting, everyday something new is structured by someone and it is then forged and built into a reality; the process repeats all the time," His grandfather would tell him. "And once you step out into the world, a paint brush in your hand and a canvas tucked under your arm, your eyes will open wide and everything will become a piece of paper for you to set its pencil on."
Taehyung would spend hours, maybe even days stuck inside his room full of sketches, paintings, pictures, art brushes; all other things the boy collected, painting his masterpiece that he only would think of a "rough sketch". His father would knock on the door and attempt his way into the enclosed space, only to hear nothing back and the door never open. The boy would paint and paint, but nothing satisfied him. He would scream and cry out of frustration, though his tantrums never seemed to fix his problems.

"Why can't I get it right? What am doing wrong? I can't do it, I'm a terrible painter." He would cry into his pillow with his father by his side to assure that he was wrong.

"No, you are not," Yoongi whispered, pressing a soft, little kiss upon the boy's tanned skin. "Don't cry, honey. It isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is!" The younger yelled, more tears seeming to trickle down his soft face. "I'm terrible; that's all I'll ever be!"
Yoongi stood from the bed and walked over to the painting that was still sitting on the easel. Red, yellow, blue, green, orange, purple; maybe even pink was splattered on the surface of the painting. Behind the splatters and painted in the darkest color, black, was a head, a face, a nose, two eyes, a neck, and shoulders. A male was drawn lazily on the canvas in front of him. "Honey, who's this?"

"H-Him," was the only response coming out of Taehyung's mouth.

Hoseok held small garden pruner in his hand as he cut the long stems off of beautiful flowers that he would soon have to sell. He would sigh as he placed the cut flower back into a bowl, "I'm sorry you had to be cut and snipped for beauty," he whispered to the flower (which was a Rose to be exact). The boy grabbed another uncut flower and snipped at all the parts he needed to before placing it in the bowl with the other cut and beautiful roses. "Snip snip," he muttered before letting out a sad, little sigh. "If a flower were to suddenly become a person, would I fall in love with them?" He said to himself quietly.
The door opened wide, signing so with the bell ringing, and a person stepped into the little shop, causing Hoseok's eyes to shift to their figure. "I would," he whispered, eyes sparkling in fact. He smiled, "hello, how may I help you today?" and said cheerfully.