하나
Taehyung's PoV;
"Back again, I see?" Yoongi calls from the till.
Min Yoongi runs a florists with his soulmate, Park Jimin.
Luckily for them, they were in the same friendship group since they were little and realised at the young age of around thirteen that they were madly in love with eachother.
It was obvious.
Jimin seemed more clingy with him and blushed whenever Yoongi's lazy eyes flicked up to him as he spoke, Jimin's flustered gaze on Yoongi's hands.
Yoongi's, boringly, favourite colour is light brown, as it represents soil which is growth and new beginnings. Coincidently, Jimin's eyes are hazel, whereas his favourite colour is chocolate brown.
He claims that this is because he loves chocolate and because healthy soil is the same colour, eliciting life and nature. However, it just seems too perfect that Yoongi's eyes are the exact same shade.
I nod excitedly in response to his question, grasping a bouquet of lilac lilies in one hand, plum carnations in the other.
My favourite colour was the entire spectrum of purple.
It didn't take a genius to know that people didn't have purple eyes, of any shade, so I knew from the age of about four that I didn't have a soulmate.
Both of my parents believed heavily in the folklore that your soulmate's eye colour is the exact same shade as your favourite colour, as it links your heart to them. And so, I'd grown up, hearing stories about people who had found their one true love in schools, jobs, shops, etcetera, etcetera.
My mother and father had met one another on the street. My father, being the gracious gentleman that he'd always been, offered my mother an umbrella during a rainstorm. Due to her ditzy nature, she had forgotten that it was due to rain and so hadn't brought an umbrella. Furthermore, due to my mother's overly flirtatious and charming nature, she'd held the handle where my father's hand held and she'd boldly invited him over for dinner. He'd accepted and he'd told me that he knew she was the one when she laughed loudly at a joke he'd cracked, and how she'd made no attempt to sound ladylike or fake.
She'd fallen in love with his deep green eyes, her favourite colour and he'd fallen into the depths of her black eyes, his favourite colour.
Unfortunately, I did not pick up green-eyed gene.
I got black eyes.
People tend to point at me and say that they're black because the stars have burnt out, meaning I wasn't meant to have a soulmate and that's why they're not bright. They're dull, like a fallen angel's wings.
I didn't care.
I'd loved the colour purple since the first time I could properly identify colours. My mother always tells everyone about how I'd fetch her anything purple, to show her my love. Shirts, socks and hell, even the dog's chew toys.
For me, purple represented the colour of love.
Most people, well, practically everyone, called me stupid for that as when you think of purple, you tend to think of a dark and moody shade. They'd tell me that pink is the colour of love.
There was never any rule to which colour matched up with which definition.
Yellow doesn't necessarily always mean happiness, it can mean danger.
Red doesn't always mean blood, it can mean love and lust.
Black doesn't always mean death, it can mean the depths of the galaxies.
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.