iris . vkook

one

I never listened, I went about every day knowing that purple was my colour and I'd think of it any which way I wished to.

I did get picked on when I was younger, because I was the only one without a soulmate.

I didn't try to pretend that another colour was my favourite, unlike many of the people there. I stayed true to myself, which is one thing that I can say I'm definitely proud of.

But, it's okay. There's plenty of purple to go around.

"Yeah. Dog ate the last ones." I grinned sheepishly in response to Yoongi's questioning greeting, passing over the flowers.

"You really love purple, don't you?" Yoongi chuckled, wrapping them in purple tissue paper, placing them down gently as he pressed buttons on his till whilst I admired the vast variety of pretty flowers surrounding me.

"It's my soulmate's colour." I said dreamily, "although, I don't have a soulmate, but I'm pretty sure that flowers make up for it."

Yoongi sighed, cocking his brow, "you do know that those silly stories aren't real, right? You have a soulmate, but their eye colour doesn't have to be the same one as your favourite colour. It's not real. It's a story that came from years and years of witchcraft."

"Think what you will, Yoongi. But you can't deny the fact that your soulmate's eyes are your favourite colour. The exact shade. And vice versa. Same for Jin and Namjoon. Hoseok and Taemin."

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, clicking his tongue gently, "sure, kid. That'll be 15000₩."

I handed over the money happily, taking my flowers in my arms like I was holding newborn children.

"They'll look lovely in a tall white vase." Jimin commented from where he was cutting the leaves from a plant at the front of the shop.

"Will do!" I sang.

I skipped out of the shop, noticing how dark it'd gotten with a soft frown on my face.

Min's florists were known for their secret potion that kept flowers all year round, something that Jimin's ancestors had passed down from hundreds of years ago. 

Thanks to that, I can have whatever flowers I want, whatever season.

Although I shivered violently, I walked happily down the street on my way home.

How would I arrange them?

Same vase?

Different vases?

Outside?

No. Not outside. Yeontan will eat them again.

Yeontan likes to eat anything that's not dog food.

He particularly favours my flowers and bedsocks.

It's a good job he's so cute.

Midway through my thought process and mental planning of the placement of flowers, I failed to miss the guy slumped on the floor, lip bleeding.

I noted that two older looking men had just swaggered away, chortling to themselves as they cracked their knuckles, talking about the "freak" they'd just beaten the shit out of.

"Oh my gosh!" I shouted, dropping my prized flowers as I ran over to the guy, "are you okay? Your lip is bl- and your cheek!"

The guy made a grunting sound in response, lolling his head around, his eyes still shut in what I presumed to be pain.

I crouched beside him, able to smell a faint floral scent coming from him, but I pushed the thought away once the metallic scent of blood filled my senses.

 I rested my hand on his shoulder, firm enough to show him that someone was here but gentle enough so that I didn't startle him.

"Can you hear me?" I asked.

He slowly opened his eyes, his face mostly hidden under his hood and the dim street lights that offered nothing apart from a deep yellow light that'd occasionally flicker.

I saw two contact lenses beside my foot.

"Can you see?" I asked, guessing that they were for vision purposes.

"Y-yeah." He grumbled, raising a bruised and bloodied hand to rub at his eyes, "what time is it?"

"Uh," I pulled out my phone, the screen lighting up the area around us a little, "twenty five minutes past ten."

"Fuck." He cursed, wobbling as he stood to his feet.

I looked up to him, about to tell him that he should really sit down for a little more, a second before my phone's screen locked.

I could've sworn his eyes were purple.

He dashed away, mumbling a 'thanks' as he staggered down the street hurriedly.

Shaking my head, I picked up my battered flowers and headed home.