#“close enough” is not good enough with vascular plants either you fucks

[dailybotany]

I'm so tired of the notes my foraging post only being about mushroom consumption. Yes. Mushrooms can be hazardous. Yes, they are more hazardous than plants (partly because their characters are more subtle and more easily confused!!). However, SO ARE PLANTS. I'm so tired of the fear mongering surrounding mushrooms in the foraging community while plants are treated as essentially harmless. You need to know what you are looking at! You need to be able to describe it! Or you WILL eventually hurt yourself or others! If you cannot reliably key out a species, you cannot reliably double check yourself.

[bffsoobin]

Windflower

01|02|03|04|05|06

↳ after a heartbreak you find yourself in a small town looking for purpose. you find employment with Choi Soobin and his impressive ancestral home. when you start to fall in love again, there’s no way for you to predict what you find in the depths of the home and Soobin’s mind.

➤ hanahaki au, angst, slight fluff, dark themes

Word Count:6,881

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of sickness and feeling generally unwell, mentions of doctors/medical treatments, deception, descriptions of anxiety/panic, horror, pain, major character death, general dark themes! Please proceed with caution if you’re sensitive! (also I did not proof read)

A/N:excuse my language; but holy fuck. I cannot believe this is the end of Windflower. This is insane. Windflower is my passion project, and the desire to write it is half the reason I opened my account on here. While it hasn’t been the most popular writing on my blog, I have been really really proud of it. Thank you to everyone who has been reading and supporting this since the beginning! I love you all!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Soobin sat with his head dipped toward the dark wooden dining table. He was scrolling through what appeared to be a website for a plant nursery; as if he needed more within the home. You were sitting opposite of him, peeking over the top of your laptop where you were pretending to read an article on the ten best shows coming to Netflix this fall. Following the night of your drunken rage, the two of you had patched up your relationship as well as you possibly could. You’d traded apologies, talked it out over a store-bought cheesecake and moved on. 

At least, you assumed he had. He acted as if you hadn’t accused him of being some type of fraud and proclaimed that you could no longer trust him. Everything was eerily the same, despite Soobin’s increased caution around you in certain settings. Gone were the days of him laying a hand on your back as you cooked or resting his head on your shoulder while you both dozed off on the couch. 

You should have been grateful for his physical distance. Happy that he was giving you the room you had hinted at needing on that night a few weeks ago. Instead you were annoyed. Frustrated at the way you craved to feel his comforting touch even though you knew it would only bring you more pain in the end. For a while, you worried that his avoidance meant he had seen the evidence of your stupidity floating within the toilet bowl, but you knew Soobin well enough to know that he would have talked to you about it. Right? He would have brought it up; although slowly and with extreme caution, and asked you what he could do to help. He had proven himself to be mature and thoughtful, even after you’d tried to push him away. 

He finally stirred in his seat across the table. You could actually hear a few of his bones crack with the movement and you stifled a laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” He tried to sound intimidating, but his voice was so inherently soft around the edges that you couldn’t hold back the laugh. 

“You’re just an old man,” you were poking at him, you knew, but it felt good. You felt normal. Almost like you were back to the time when the two of you were truly just friends. He planted both of his large, vascular hands flat on the table and leaned his weight forward. 

“I’m an old man? You do know we’re the same age, Y/N. So if I’m so old...” he paused for dramatic affect as you stared up at him in amused awe. “Then you must be ancient.”

An offended gasp, obviously feigned, slipped between your lips; which you now noticed you’d chewed raw as you were thinking earlier. 

“How dare you? I am the epitome of youth! My hair is flowing, my skin is flawless,” you pointed to a blemish on your chin you knew for a fact you’d had for days. “My youthful beauty is unmatched, can’t you tell?” You weren’t sure where your sudden good mood had come from but you basked in it. Even as Soobin used his hands as leverage to lean closer to your face, you didn’t budge. You couldn’t. This close up, you could spot every single little freckle on his face. The dynamic shades of his irises became more and more distinct until he finally stopped advancing toward you. It was easily the closest the two of you had been in weeks. 

“Hm, you’re right. I can tell. There’s something about you...” he squinted his eyes as if he were scrutinizing your every feature. “You are beautiful, Y/N.” 

The sentence brought an unwanted visceral reaction through your body. It was too much like a confession, too close to the exact words you needed to hear from him. A shooting pain rippled through your heart. You shuddered out an exhale, shutting your eyes tight as if that would stave away the pain. In a blind panic, you pushed away from the solid table and made to put as much distance between yourself and Soobin as possible. Then your migraine hit, the feeling like someone had stuck a red hot iron rod behind both of your eyes. Fuck. On top of that pain, a cough worked its way up your throat, producing a petal into your mouth that was slimy and bitter.

You only made it two and a half steps before your knees gave out, sending you hurtling toward the floor in a free fall. Sticking your hands out just before the impact, you accepted the fact that you were about to get a concussion out of your own inability to properly distance yourself from an unrequited love. But the sensitive skin of your face never bounced off of the original hardwood flooring you had once drooled over. 

“Y/N?” Soobin was panicked, stooped down  next to you as he had managed to barely break your fall and turn you around to lay on your back. Your vision was still swimming, but you cracked open your eyes very slowly. 

‘What’s wrong? Do you need to go to a doctor?” 

“No,” you croaked out, “was just a migraine.” Soobin scoffed. 

“I’ve never seen anyone nearly pass out from just a migraine, Y/N. And in all the months I’ve known you, you’ve never-”

“I’m fine.” You asserted, sitting up as well as you could with his arms wrapped protectively around your shoulders. “They used to happen the last time I- uh, when I was in college. It’s okay, they’ll pass.” You were lying right through your teeth. The last time you had a migraine this badly, your then roommate had rushed you to the emergency room and discovered that you had hanahaki. There was no doubt that history was repeating itself. 

 “Okay.” He was frowning, obviously unconvinced as he pushed a hand against your lower back. “At least let me help you upstairs.” 

----

The migraine either dissipates or you simply become accustomed to it. The petal you had coughed into a tissue when you first reached your room had dried, sitting on your bedside table in its perfect little form to mock you. You were so disgusted that you couldn’t even bring yourself to throw it away. No longer sensitive to light, you shrugged out from underneath your sheets and stretched your limbs until they cracked. A dull thumping was still present at the base of your skull; a reminder of what you’d just suffered. A sickly feeling of anxiety passed through you like a breeze, making the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention. Soobin was clearly not convinced by your insistence that your sudden ailment was nothing of concern. And he was right. In all the time you’d been around him, you never once experienced a spell quite like that, so how was he supposed to not be suspicious?

Although, you had to hold onto hope that he truly didn’t know any better. It seemed as though he was blissfully ignorant to the truth behind your sickness, and you’d like to keep it that way. For as long as you possibly could, anyway. 

You hadn’t even noticed that you were pacing across the floor until you landed your weight onto a particularly squeaky board that sounded ridiculous in the otherwise quiet room. Freezing on the spot, you held your breath for some reason you truly couldn’t explain. Of course, there was no logical reason to do so, and the action only resulted in your lungs contracting violently. Your upper body shuddered as you opened your mouth instantly. Holding your breath for just a few seconds should have been a simple task, but to your weakened heart and lungs it felt like running a whole marathon uphill. 

Buckling over, you heaved in mouthfuls of oxygen until your heart rate dropped back down to a normal rate. Add shortness of breath to your growing list of signs that should send you running for the nearest clinic. If you weren’t so foolishly attached to the man who was probably worrying about you downstairs, you would have already been booking yourself an appointment. 

It just seemed totally inconceivable, even in your predicament, to leave Soobin behind within his ancestral house that surely felt horridly empty being lived in alone. You would sooner walk over lava barefoot than put him through that. It was stupid. So incredibly stupid, but you were literally willing to put your life on the line just to look after Soobin. He had really weaseled himself deep into your psyche. But you knew you were to blame for holding the door wide open. He had done so much for you, surely you could do him to kindness of sticking around as long as you possibly could.

So you trudged down the steps like you did every day, expecting to come face to face with an overly worried and doting young man standing in the kitchen or living room awaiting your arrival. But the lower level of the house was oddly silent when you descended the steps. The low hum of the washer and dryer running were the only indications that someone beside yourself was even there. Curiosity spiking, you made your way to the vacant living room to peer out of the windows. It was a bit hard to see him from this angle, but you spotted Soobin lounging on the back deck, skin browning in the sun and eyes closed in content. His arms were tucked behind his head, effectively lengthening his torso and giving you a full view of the sliver of skin that was peeking out between the top of his waistband and the bottom of the white cotton t-shirt  You noticed that he was once again wearing the outfit he was donning when you first arrived at the front gate weeks ago. Although the outfit was simple and generally unremarkable, you would never forget the way your heart lurched at the sight of his lithe body the first time. The warm pull of nostalgia nagged at the back of your mind, so you selfishly let yourself sink into its embrace and recall the trepidation you had once approached the grounds with. 

Soobin had charmed you so easily with his windswept hair and boyish charm that it was a shock you didn’t begin to grow flowers for him the first time you met. To be fair, the version of you who had rolled into town almost two months prior was much more cautious than the version you were now familiar with. Part of you missed that version of you; who was simply drifting through life, unattached to anyone and looking for a new spot to plant her roots. But you knew you weren’t built to live like that, as your attachment to Soobin had proven wholeheartedly. 

Suddenly, you felt a lurching in your chest that didn’t necessarily hurt you; but urged you to go outside and talk to Soobin. A subconscious pull that reminded you that your body craved his attention just as much as your mind did. The weather was beautiful today, a pleasant temperature that made your skin feel like it was glowing as soon as you were under the sun. As soon as you stepped onto the porch, Soobin whipped his head around in your direction. Cutely, he scrambled to sit up, hair frizzy from the static of the Adirondack chair he had been lounging on. 

“Are you feeling better?” A warm hand encased the left side of your face, Soobin’s sloped nose just inches away from yours as his speckled eyes studied every single pore and line on your face. 

“Uh- I’m-” his proximity was making your jittery, heart rate spiking as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I feel better. The migraine is gone.” You ignored the way the same dull ache from earlier was beginning to seep into the edges of your brain. 

“Oh, good!” A rush of his breath blew over your sensitive skin, sending your eyelids into a flutter. When he removed his hand, you felt oddly cold and empty despite the heat of the atmosphere. “Look, I don’t want you to do any work around the house until you’re feeling better. And I can call my doctor to get you in for a-”

“No!” The word jumped off of your tongue before you could reign it in; rudely cutting Soobin off as his eyes widened in shock. He shifted his weight as his eyebrows knit together in worry. You licked your lips- suddenly dry- and tried to collect the thoughts that were running laps in your mind. How could you possibly explain that going to the doctor would be a grave mistake and mark the end of your companionship. 

“You don’t want to go to the doctor? I promise he’s really nice, Y/N, and he can get you medicine for your migraines.” His perfect lips were pulled into a worried pout, a thin sheen of sweat glazing his skin only exemplifying his perfect complexion. 

“No, it’s just that...when I had them before they ran a bunch of tests,” you were hedging the truth and you knew it, but hopefully Soobin couldn’t tell the difference, “and there was nothing they could give me to help them. So a doctor would just be, ya know, a waste of time.” The skin on the back of your neck was heated in worry as you shot Soobin what you hoped was a convincing grin. 

“Okay.” He was still frowning but he seemed to believe you. “Just please let me know if you want to go. I don’t want you to be miserable. And you’re still not doing any yard work,” he grasped your bicep and led you over to the chair he had just been lying in. His grip was strong as he gave you no choice but to sit down and relax. The plastic was heated from the sunshine and the heat of his body as you settled in and looked up at him, blinking slowly. 

“I’m not gonna break, Soobin. I can handle watering the plants and doing some cleaning inside. You are not going to wait on me hand and foot.” You put some fire in your tone, hoping to edge away the anxiety you were feeling creep up the back of your throat. Having the exact person who sent your body on a fight against itself watching over you like a mother cat watches its kittens would surely put you six feet under. 

Soobin’s eyes steeled as he crossed his arms over his broad, defined chest. “No, Y/N. I am going to wait on you, because you’ve spent so much time waiting on me, and you deserve to have someone take care of you. Please let me take care of you, bub.” You were speechless at the strength of his voice coupled with the nickname he had only used in a teasing manner prior to this moment. The longer you stared at the toned muscle of his arms crossed over the widest part of his torso, the more your throat began to tickle with the insistence of soft, red petals that were looking for an escape. Panicked, you looked away quickly, coughing as softly as you can to hopefully pass the action off as simply swallowing down the wrong pipe. Just when you think the moment has passed, an unwavering push at the back of your throat had you involuntarily gagging. Soobin sprung into action, patting a large hand between your shoulder blades as if he were burping an infant. He was calling your name, pulling some strands of your hair away from your face in a bid to get your attention; but you ignored him. Your stomach rolled, the pressure in your lungs and heart only increasing at his touch that you tried to shrug off. 

Eventually the muscles of your esophagus stopped constricting and fresh oxygen could flow back into your crowded lungs. Hot tears slipped down your cheeks and you wiped at them in embarrassment, hiding your face from Soobin’s intensified gaze. You could only imagine what he was thinking right now; as you’d just went from insisting you had no need for a doctor to dry heaving over the side of his deck furniture. The thought had you shrinking into yourself even more. He was going to catch on eventually, wasn’t he? Fuck. You couldn’t avoid this much longer. The evidence of your disease was only mounting and Soobin was more observant than ever before. 

“Y/N.” The call of your name brought you, slowly, out of your own mind. “Look at me.” The words could not have been any clearer, yet you shook your head like a petulant child. He sighed. “Please, I’m worried about you. Please let me take care of you. I can’t,” he stopped and you could hear him swallow clearly. Was that a sniffle? Your heart clenched in response. “I can’t sit here and watch you hurt.” 

Still ashamed, you raised your head from your hands and stared out over the yard instead of facing him. You didn’t think your stuttering heart would survive seeing his expression in this supercharged moment. You’d sooner drop dead than see Soobin crying over you.

“Okay,” you acquiesced, mind already running in the direction of a backup plan, “I’m sorry, Soobin. You’re right. I do need you to look after me. Just please.” you swallowed, tasting the oddly earthy tang of flower petals on your tongue. “No doctors. You have to promise me.” Finally turning your body to face his, your earlier suspicions were confirmed. 

Your heart constricted painfully at the sight of him, eyes rimmed red and watery with unshed tears and a line of worry creasing the soft skin of his forehead harshly. “Fine.” He huffed, clearly displeased with your stipulation but willing to make the sacrifice. 

“Thank you,” the words were whispered, caught in a sudden gust of wind, but he heard them nonetheless and sent you a small nod. 

“Of course.”

----

Soft sunlight filtered through the flowy white curtains hanging over the windows of the library. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t spent much time in this little haven since you moved in. Soobin’s cousin had filled it with plush armchairs laden with soft fleece blankets and the most comfortable throw pillows you’d ever felt. The books were certainly outdated, but you found some classics that satisfied the itch for escape you had begun to cultivate. Currently, you were flipping through a vintage illustrated coffee table book- the front page tells you it was made in 1962- that gave diagrams and names of all types of flowers. You shouldn’t have been surprised to find this type of literature here, as Soobin himself had admitted to learning the meanings of flowers in his free time. 

The pages were delicate, so you flipped them carefully, fingers tracing over the edges that felt like they might melt between the oil of your skin. As you turned onto a new page a brightly colored sticky note, not unlike the ones you used to mark up textbooks, drew your attention toward the flower it was attached to. You recognized the flower as jasmine immediately, familiar with the patch of it that weaved among its neighbors in the garden. Brushing the sticky note aside, you read the delicate cursive underneath it: eternal and unconditional love. Cute. The image of a younger Soobin thumbing through the book, tongue pushed out in concentration as he researched warmed your heart. 

A tremor of weakness passed through your arm, making your hand shake. A feeling of dread- which you desperately tried to push down- reminded you of just how much worse your condition had become. You had noticed it lately, the way you felt much more faint than normal, how much more often you had to take a moment to catch your breath, the way your whole body would shake when you cough up a mix of blood and petals into the sink. 

But for now, you chose to lose yourself in this book and the newfound hunt for Soobin’s sticky notes of interest. You had to skip a few pages before you found the next ones; two bundled together in the upper left corner of the page marked off forget-me-nots and begonias. Gently lifting the sticky notes revealed the meanings behind these flowers, also featured in the backyard, to be true love and deep compassion and communication or connection, respectively. Curiosity mounting, you continued to flip through the weighty book. At first, you began to think that maybe the three notes you’d already found were all that lived within the forgotten book. As you neared the end, your eyes caught on two more, this time on opposite ends of the page. One partially covered an illustration of a snapdragon, the other highlighting the small flowers of a buttercup. Your nails caught on the edge of the blue paper as you lifted it. Buttercups: neatness and innocence. The definition made sense, calling back to memory the way your former best friend had coughed up a handful of the pale yellow flowers when you were just children. She was easily the most pure and innocent person you’d ever met, and given the matching nature of the boy who’d also been secretly pining over her; you couldn’t think of a more perfect example of the type of flower representing the relationship. 

You wondered if Soobin had chosen and planted these flowers with the image of the relationships they’re indicative of in mind. The snapdragon’s description was totally covered by the sticky note; so you nearly had to pry the whole thing off before you could see the cursive. Deception. The word stared back at you. It seemed very out of place among the other markings that Soobin had made. You knew for a fact that a tall, thick patch of snapdragons were growing proudly in the garden, among all the other flowers with soft, beautiful meanings. Interesting. You would consider the fact that Soobin was only drawn to their aesthetics, but the way the drawing was marked with the same enthusiasm as the others was certainly curious. 

You decided that you were thinking way too far into this. For all you knew, the snapdragons were simply planted by someone in his family and he had gone looking for their meaning. Nearing the end of the book, you were simply skimming over the book. Your eyes were starting to get tired, fatigue dancing under your skin as you considered taking a nap right there. On the final, yellowed page of the flower identification book, you spotted something alarmingly familiar. A red flower whose petals fade into a pure white near the stem. The exact same petals that had been crawling up your throat and ruining the little bit of safety you’d found within Soobin’s home. 

Suddenly on high alert, you sat up straight, eyes watering as you finally focused enough to comprehend the definition. The red windflower. Death and forsaken love. Your throat went completely dry, heart dropping down to your stomach. The petals pushed against the soft flesh of the inside of your throat, scratching at the back of your tongue as a harsh reinforcement of what you were reading. Death? Surely you had joked with yourself that you felt as if you were dying, but was that not just because you hadn’t seen a doctor? 

A new gagging cough slipped past your lips, consuming your senses totally as you focused on not spewing a mix of blood, spit and flower petals onto the surely expensive leather chair. Finally, you collapsed back in the chair, chest heaving, book laid open on your lap. Fresh tears brimmed your eyes. You needed to leave. As much as you desired to stay around Soobin and bask in his company, you were becoming increasingly worried for your life. You had to find a way to get him out of the house long enough for you to pack up the essentials and flee the house. It would hurt. It would hurt so bad, but nothing could be worse than the message of doom that your body was giving you. Loving Soobin would literally put you in an early grave. 

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Soobin’s voice came cautiously from somewhere behind you and you jumped, clasping the book shut quickly. 

“I’m-” you tried, voice too wrecked from coughing to continue. You cleared your throat, ignoring the painful pinch that created and tried again. “I’m okay. But I was wondering if you’d do me a favor?” Thinking on your feet had your head spinning, and you hoped he couldn’t sense the waver in your voice as you spoke. 

He approached slowly, sitting himself on an armchair opposite of you. The knees of his jeans were stained brown with dirt, a sight not uncommon after his time in the garden. He pushed a hand through his mussed up hair. It was a nervous tick, you knew, and you felt awful for worrying him. Maybe it was better if you left after all. 

“Could you go out to Hank’s and get me a Smore’s sundae? I would drive myself but...” a vague gesture over your generally unwell body made the point clear. “I know it’s pretty far out of town but I’ve been craving one since the first time we went.” 

“Of course. I’m done outside, I can go. Are you sure you’ll be okay alone? I’ll be out for probably like 40 minutes to get all the way there and back.”

“Yes, Soobin. I can still handle myself alone. I’m not that sick.” The irony of the statement was not lost on you, but it seemed to have placated him enough for him to slip on his shoes and leave the house. As soon as he was gone, you threw yourself off of the chair. Your heart rate had been in a constant state of increase for weeks, but you just had to just push through it for now. 

In a flurry of packing that was all too familiar to the way you left your college apartment,  you began to gather your things. You felt a twinge of guilt for leaving behind some of your things for Soobin to contend with, but you had to push it aside in favor of working quickly. All of your personal items, chargers, enough clothing for two weeks, toiletries and any money you’d brought along with you were stuffed into your trusty tote bag. You took one last sweeping look around the room, anxiety licking at the back of your neck as you feared you were running out of time. Many of your dressers were still full and you had left the bed a mess but your most important items were tucked underneath your arm securely; and that was enough for you. 

As you descended the stairs, you tried to ignore the way you wobbled dangerously down them until you finally got to the bottom level of the house. A bittersweet feeling rose in your chest as you surveyed the kitchen where you’d cooked and baked so many times. The living room beckoned you with similar memories of taking naps in the sunshine and watching your favorite films. A stray tear you didn’t know was welling up made a hot streak down your face before dripping off of your skin. No matter how much it hurt, you had to keep moving. The floor creaked familiarly under your feet as you approached the front door. The handle was cold under your fingers as you twisted, but the satisfying creak and rush of fresh air that you were expecting never came. You tried again, but the door didn’t budge. Locked. Okay, that made sense. Neither of you really used the front door, so of course it was locked up. Leaning down to inspect the doorknob, you realized that the age of the home meant that you would need a skeleton key to slip into the door and crack it open. 

Slightly annoyed, you took a deep, steadying breath and headed for the backdoor. You would have to walk further to get to your car; but the back door should be unlocked, considering Soobin had just left out of it. With more fervor, you gripped the door knob and twisted, just to be met with the same resistance the front door gave. A flash of hot panic consumed you as you jiggled the handle again, just in case it would make any difference. Soobin must have locked it out of habit when he left, and you knew for a fact that he had the only key-as far as you knew- with him out at Hank’s. Blindly, you grabbed for your cellphone before realizing how useless that would truly be. No one knew you were here. You didn’t have any other friends in town, and it’s not like you could call the police to come help you without Soobin finding out. Sweaty palms made your phone nearly slip from your grip as your mind worked in overdrive. 

“Okay.” you whispered to yourself, “where would he keep spare keys?” Rifling through a mental list of all the nooks and crannies of the home, a sudden realization hit you. That room upstairs where you had hit your head! That would explain why the room seemed oddly clean, and it was feasible to believe that what you mistook for an AC unit was actually a safe of some kind. Back up the steps you went, heart thumping in a rhythm that was surely unhealthy for someone as young as yourself. 

When you finally got to the room, you found the mismatched furniture exactly where you left it. Soobin had clearly made no effort to move back the dresser or the table that you’d begun to slide out of the way; only making your mission so much easier. 

For the first time today, you had luck when you pulled at the handle of something. Up close, you seemed to be clearly looking at some kind of built in storage compartment, made of a light metal and easily accessed by a small pull lever. Your fingers slipped as you swung the door open, excitement rising at the prospect of being correct about the keeping place of the keys. 

As fast as the excitement and relief had risen, they were quelled and buried deep underneath a wash of confusion. Within the confines of the compartment, you were faced with... flowers. In the middle, acting as some sort of centerpiece, was a pressed snapdragon stem. An entire cluster of flowers, attached firmly to a greened stem was propped up on a small stand; shrink wrapped in protective plastic. Something about the sight was oddly familiar. The stem was cut so perfectly across, completely unlike the way a garden sheer or someone breaking off the plant would present. A memory surfaced to the top of your mind, recalling the first time you’d had your flowers removed. It was cut in the exact same manner; with the precision only a surgical tool could make. Although you’d tried to bury the whole process in a dusty corner of your mind, you did remember your doctor offering the option to take the removed flower home. It had appalled and confused you, but it was clear that that was the source of this exact flower. 

“What the fuck?” you whispered, catching sight of an almost unrecognizable sharpie scribbled on the corner. CS. Initials? Oh god. CS. Choi Soobin. Your hand recoiled as if you’d been burned, the feeling of bile raising toward your tongue. He had told you that he never grew flowers, so what the hell was this? Why would he keep this a secret? Hurt and panic joined hands and wreaked havoc on your nervous system. You could barely think straight. Was this his...trophy case? 

When you shifted on your feet, you spotted a small envelope resting behind the stand. A sick feeling of curiosity had you reaching for it. At this point, you had no idea what to expect as your fingers stick to the material thanks to the sweat permeating your body. It takes a few tries, but once you finally get the envelope slipped open, you can’t tell what you’re looking at. The lighting was too awkward, so you dumped the contents out onto the surface of the compartment. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see; but it certainly wasn’t this. Dozens of flower petals, dried and shrink wrapped in the same fashion as the haunting centerpiece spilled out in front of you. The smooth metal surface sent them all skidding, so it took you a second to get the whole picture. The first one to catch your eye was a white, pointed petal that you could easily identify as jasmine with the same handwritten pair of letters on one corner. YJ. Another protected petal, this one the tell tale purple-blue of a forget me not bore the letters SA. In fact, you could match every single one of these petals to a flower you had been fawning over in the garden since your arrival. 

One that had scattered toward the back of the case seemed to compel you even though you couldn’t quite see it. You reached for it blindly, bringing a few, clearly much older flowers forward with it. Sifting through them only struck more and more fear into you. Every instinct you had was telling you to run, scream, pound on a window until you could bust out. Soobin was clearly not all he had claimed to be. But a dark, twisted side of yourself you didn’t know existed wanted to sift through all of the petals and match them up with the garden you’d cared for. Resting at the bottom of the pile in your hand, you finally came across the petal you’d initially reached for. 

It was about the size of a penny; red, fading into a simple white at the bottom. This was it. This was the exact petal that you’d spit out onto your bedside table after your first awful migraine. Now that you thought about it, you never did throw it out. You were too disgusted to even face the flora that haunted you. 

Your heart stopped. The sharpie on this flower was smudged, as if he had been in too much of a hurry to let it dry. Your initials were there, clear as day. He had collected your flower for his sick collection. He had collected...you. 

The little happy world you had built yourself came crashing down like a ton of bricks. If he had done this to you, then surely all of these other petals came from others who had come to work and live with him. You recalled an early discussion about family tradition as you thumbed over a group of much more withered looking flowers. 

This was the family tradition. 

Alarms blared in your mind. Get out, your mind urged faster than your feet could move. Tripping over yourself, you hoped that Soobin wasn’t home yet, as you had no idea how to get out of the home. Your feet pounded noisily on the hardwood but that was the very least of your worries. Skidding into the kitchen, your blood ran cold.

Soobin. 

“Hey,” his voice was smooth, unwavering as he leaned against the sink nursing a bottle of water. On the island there was a brown paper bag with Hank’s logo printed on the front. “There’s your ice cream.” 

You didn’t know what to do. Clearly, you had been caught red handed with a tote bag in hand and anxious sweat rolling down your face. 

“Oh, uh. Thanks.” The room sat creepily still as Soobin’s eyes, devoid of any clear emotion, roved over you. He quirked an eyebrow as he pushed himself off of the counter. You couldn’t move, even as he stalked closer. 

“What happened to you resting? You’re sick.” He had asked a question but it seemed clear we really wasn’t looking for an answer. 

“I just-” your words turned into a gasp as Soobin gripped your shoulder so hard that it hurt. Gone were the usually careful caresses of his fingers as he pushed you backwards. With your body already weak it only took one wrong step for you to be sent flying toward the floor. On instinct, you tried to grab onto Soobin’s solid body for support, but he stepped back and watched you fall, bouncing the back of your head off of the floor hard enough to go limp. Consciousness came and went as you struggled to do anything in the name of self defense. Your lungs and heart were too compromised to acquire and pump the nutrients your body needed. Soobin crouched over you, studying you with a passive look on his face. 

“Ya know,” he sighed, pulling the tote bag away from your body. “I really did like you. I hoped to have spent some more time with you, but you’re just,” he clicked his tongue, grabbing you firmly by the ankles and giving an experimental tug. You slid along the floor easily. “So. Nosy. Too nosy for your own good.” 

“Soobin, you’re not- this isn’t-” a dark chuckle passed between his lips. The ones you once dreamed of. 

“You don’t know me. This is exactly who I am, Y/N. This is who my whole family is.” He dropped your ankles harshly, secure in the fact that you were too weak to get up. A shroud of darkness filled your head as you grayed out from the panic. When you awoke again, it was to the sound of birds chirping. It hurt to open your eyes but you did it anyway, spotting Soobin just above you, wielding a shovel. 

He smiled down at you, deceivingly handsome, as he stuck the shovel into the pliant ground just to your side. Looking to your left, you spotted a freshly dug shallow grave and your blood ran cold at the recognition that he must have been digging this earlier in the day when you were reading. 

“Please, don’t do this.” you begged with the last of your energy. “Soobin, please. I- I love you.” Desperation had you spitting out your deepest secrets in a bid to catch his attention and change his behavior. 

“Awe,” he crooned, grabbing onto your wrists with a grip that would certainly bruise your delicate skin. “I know.” One sharp movement had you landing on your back in the dirt, several feet below ground level. The impact pushed all the air out of your compromised lungs and you didn’t even have the semblance to lift your head and scream to anyone listening. Soobin stood above you, blocking the sun from your view as he dropped something onto you. It took you a few moments, but you soon realized he had dropped a handful of red windflower petals and seeds onto your front. You shuddered. This is surely what had happened to all the other people who carried the flowers you’d found. This was how Soobin kept his beautiful garden. Sacrifice. 

Wordlessly, he piled shovel fulls of dirt on top of your body. With your eyes slipping shut, all you could do was feel the weight of being buried alive consume you. 

----

Soobin hated the winter. It was too long, too cold, too boring. He usually spent the whole time holed up in his home, dreaming of the day the weather warms. 

Finally, finally, after months of waiting the time had come. An early summer breeze pushed his hair out of his face. This season he had decided to go for a purple color that seemed to suit his complexion well. Sitting on his favorite deck chair, he gazed out at the beginnings of his blooming garden. All of the usuals had cropped up, but it was with great pride and delight that Soobin regarded the patch of red windflowers that had begun to grow. For their first season, they were going strong, covering almost the entire plot of land he had allowed them. For a while, he had been worried that the new plants wouldn’t perform well, since he’d never dealt with them before. But he was quite proud. 

As he sipped from a frosty glass of lemonade, he heard the distant crunch of his driveway gravel. It had been almost a year since the last time he heard it, but his heart jumped in excitement. Stretching his limbs, he began a lazy meander toward the front gate; already making out the slight static of the speaker as someone spoke into it, introducing themselves and asking if they were in the right place. Clearing his throat, he rounds to corner to the great iron gate surrounded by his guarding trees and glances back at his garden. Then he advanced, opening the gate as he came and beckoning his new guest inside the boundaries of his property.

“Hi! I’m Soobin. This house belonged to my great-great-uncle and his wife. Well, wives.”

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