#oops i meant moodboards not moodboard but there's no way in hell i'm deleting all of these takes to fix it don't hate me

[snifflyjoonie]

I Told You So

In which “I told you so” smells suspiciously like daffodils. 

fever (with a bit of snz)-centric featuring Jimin as the sickie and a distant Yoongi (plus a take-no-bullshit Namjoon) as the caretakers.

Word Count: 2664

FlowerShop!AU Part 3

Part 2 | Part 4

a/n: Surprise again? 💀 I have no excuses for this besides the fact that these two live in my brain permanently. I know no one requested this but just bare with me here, lol. I have a lot of fun building their little narrative and I hope you guys enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them. I changed this story to present tense whereas the last two were past, so I hope that doesn’t mess up the flow of these too much. Anyway, without further ado, let’s get into it!

-

There weren’t many things Park Jimin regretted in his life. In fact, he was a firm believer in the phrase ‘everything happens for a reason’. Every choice you ever made influenced your day to day and in turn, your life in the long run. Taking risks was what made life exciting and worthwhile. Besides — if he had chosen to not take risks he knew for a fact his life would have been drastically different to what it was today. For example, choosing to take an apprenticeship at a floral shop was a risk. Not going to University was a risk. Opening his own shop at twenty-four was a risk. Risks paid off. Hard work paid off. Jimin was a prime example of this. Every little micro-decision he had ever made led him to this point in his life, and he knew for a fact he wouldn’t change any of it.

Especially the part where he visited Min Yoongi — even if that meant catching his cold.

*

“You look like shit.”

Jimin lets out a long sigh that borders on a tired laugh as his glassy eyes settle on Namjoon. He was sure the other was right, but he really didn’t want to hear it.

“That’s nice of you to point out.” He mumbles as he brings the back of his wrist up to scrub at his nose. “Thanks.”

“I do what I can.” Shrugs the other, but there is a smirk on his face that hints he’s trying to be playful. Jimin is very much not in the mood. “Maybe you should call it for the day and just head home.” He adds, voice softening.

The florist sighs again and lets his chin rest into his palm. The skin of his cheek feels flushed against his fingers and it makes him frown. He really does feel like shit, there’s no way around it. It had only been three days since he had showed up at Yoongi’s, but he had definitely caught the man’s cold. He was never very good at hiding things like this, especially from people like Namjoon.

“Mm, it’s only 3pm.” He replies after a moment as he sprawls his arms across his front counter and lets his head fall onto the cool wood. “I still have 2 hours before close.”

“Jimin, you’re the owner.” Namjoon chuckles as Jimin lets out a low groan. “You can close early. You should think about closing up tomorrow, too. Give yourself a day.”

Jimin raises his head and gives it a small shake, disapproving of Namjoon’s suggestion. He just wasn’t the type to stop working, especially because of something as trivial as a cold. 

His business was small, but he stayed busy as the owner and sole employee. He couldn’t afford to close the shop for a few hours, let alone for a full day to recover. He didn’t think he had really ever taken a sick day since opening up a year prior.

“Can’t.” He manages back, pushing himself upright once more. “I have deliveries to make tomorrow. They have to get done.”

Namjoon nods sympathetically and rests his elbows onto the countertop, folding his hands together in front of himself. Jimin can tell from his expression that he’s working out what to say next.

“Tell you what,” He eventually starts, locking eyes with Jimin. “I have nothing going on tomorrow. Let me make your deliveries.”

Jimin’s eyes widen at the other’s suggestion and his response catches in his throat, sending him into a sputtering cough. He grips the counter with one hand for support and does his best to turn away from Namjoon, bending deep into his elbow to try to keep his coughing contained. 

“No, no you — youdon’t —” He’s coughing too hard to get his sentence out and instead just shakes his head. Namjoon frowns and makes his way around the counter in a second, delivering a few firm but tender pats to Jimin’s back until the coughs begin to cease. Jimin is grateful, but a bit embarrassed. He clears his throat harshly and brings a hand up to rest against the center of his chest. He had just choked on spit, but there’s no way Namjoon would believe him.

“You don’t have to, uh—” He clears his throat a second time. “—do that, Joon. I’m positive I’ll be able to just sleep this off, and—”

Jimin is abruptly cut off when Namjoon’s palm makes contact with the flushed skin of his cheek. His hand is a welcoming cool sensation against his overtly warm skin and it takes every ounce of self control Jimin can muster to not melt into the touch.

Namjoon tuts in disapproval at what he feels, removing his hand from Jimin to instead adjust the beanie on his head.

“Feels like you have a fever.” He says it as if Jimin doesn’t already know. “You gotta go home, Jimin. Fill me in on what I need to do for tomorrow and then get outta here. I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

Namjoon has always been like this. He had a commanding presence, even back in highschool, and it was hard to say no to him once he made his mind up on something. His personality fit well with his job as a bartender as he always knew when to put his foot down when things seemed to be getting out of hand. He was a good friend to have, and Jimin valued the bond they shared, but Namjoon simply wasn’t someone you won arguments against. Jimin knew there was nothing he could say to convince Namjoon to just let it go.

Defeated, Jimin quietly opens a drawer and pulls out one of his notebooks and a pen. It takes him a second, but he writes out detailed instructions on what to expect and things that have to get done. Namjoon watches intently, reading over Jimin’s shoulder as he goes. Finally, after a moment, Jimin rips the paper from the notebook and hands it over, along with a second smaller notebook that simply says ‘deliveries’ on its cover in bold, black lettering.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Jimin asks, a hint of nervousness present in his voice. No one had ever done any of his shop’s deliveries before besides himself. If it were anyone but Namjoon, Jimin didn’t think he would budge as easily. 

“Course not.” Namjoon reaffirms with a dimpled smile, happy to have convinced — or more realistically, forced — Jimin to take a break. “I got it, Jimin. Everything will be fine, I promise you. You can thank me later when you’re feeling better.” He adds the last part jokingly, and gives Jimin a bit of a shove. It manages to make the florist crack a smile, and for a split second, Jimin allows a feeling of relief to wash over him. 

He wouldn’t admit it to Namjoon, but the deliveries had been weighing heavily on his mind. His fever was making it hard to focus and left him feeling like his head was full of television static. He had no idea how he was going to pull off an entire day’s worth of deliveries without messing something up along the way. Namjoon putting his foot down was truly a blessing in disguise. 

“I should give Yoongi an earful for getting you sick like this.”

Namjoon’s words pull Jimin back to earth and when he turns to look at him, the man is smiling. “That bastard.” It’s a joke, that much Jimin can tell, but it still makes him blush anyway. 

Visiting Yoongi had been a whirlwind. Whatever apprehension Yoongi may’ve initially felt upon Jimin’s impromptu arrival vanished as soon as they had started eating. They fell into the warmth of each other’s company effortlessly, and the “short visit” quickly became anything but. Still, Jimin made sure not to overstay his welcome — Yoongi needed rest. He tidied up their mess before leaving, ignoring Yoongi’s objections about doing so along the way, and headed for the door. Yoongi walked with him, and after a brief moment of goodbyes, the blonde leaned in to press a quick kiss to Jimin’s lips. Upon pulling away, Jimin could tell Yoongi was just as surprised by his actions as he was. It had been spontaneous, unexpected, and strangely…felt so right. They both laughed — nervous and giddy like school children — before Jimin finally made his way out after a second round of goodbyes. 

If Jimin was unsure whether he would catch Yoongi’s cold before, then he certainly wasn’t afterwards. The kiss was the final nail in the coffin, and sure enough, it only took a few days for Jimin to wind up in the exact same boat. 

“...Have you still not heard from him?” Namjoon asks. Jimin realizes his silence must have been a dead giveaway. He shakes his head.

“Mm, no. Not since I went over.” 

He’s not sure why, but Namjoon’s comment smarts a little. Jimin almost wishes he had kept the evening to himself, but he had been excited, and spilled the details to Namjoon the following day. Now, with a lack of communication from Yoongi’s end, Jimin was left feeling a little sheepish about his own over-eagerness.

“Want me to shoot him a message?”

“Absolutely not.” Jimin whips his head in the other’s direction and responds so quickly that his voice cracks. “Namjoon, do not.”

Namjoon shrugs, raising his hands up in defeat.

“I was mostly kidding.” He snickers. “Mostly. Anyway Jimin, come on. Let’s get you home.”

*

Jimin would never admit it to Namjoon, but taking the day off had definitely been the right move. His symptoms had only worsened as the night went on, and by the next morning, his fever had increased enough to leave him feeling slightly delirious. It took as much energy to get himself out of bed for coffee that morning as it did to plan flora for an entire wedding. Or at least it felt that way. Maybe he was being dramatic. He blames the fever.

After throwing on his favourite fuzzy robe, Jimin plops himself onto his couch, mug of coffee in one hand and a box of tissues in the other. He lets out a sigh, but even that sounds congested, and it makes his soft palette sting. 

Sniffling thickly, the florist pulls out his phone to check for any texts from Namjoon. At least that’s what he tells himself. It is partially true — he is a little nervous about his friend’s first time making deliveries — but he mostly was hoping for a text from Yoongi, to which there were none. He frowns and sets his phone down, realizing quickly that there’s no use making himself feel worse. He tries to push the kiss far out of his foggy mind, and instead chooses to flick on his television in an attempt to drown out his own yearnings with a bad daytime soap opera.  

The television makes his head pound, but he doesn’t turn it off. It keeps his mind from wandering to other things, and he drums his fingers against his coffee mug in time with the program’s theme song. He watches for a few minutes, grateful for the distraction, when the steam from his coffee begins to loosen the congestion in his nose just enough. Scrunching his nose up in discomfort as the feeling builds, Jimin is quick to set down his mug in favour of a tissue that he yanks from the box.

“uH’TSHh’iuew!” He pitches down roughly into it, rises back up, and then snaps down again with a second. “IISHhh’hiuu!” 

The feeling of his robe jostling against his sensetive skin makes him cringe, and an uncomfortable shiver shoots down his spine as he attempts to blow the itch from his nose.

He’s just about to turn his attention back to the television when his doorbell rings. The shrill sound makes his head throb so harshly that he whimpers, and before he can get a grip of the situation, it rings again. 

“Coming!” He calls out in the hopes that whoever’s outside hears him enough to not ring the bell again. Hearing how awful his own voice sounds makes him wince, the heavy huskiness being so far from his usual airy, sing-song like tone.

He hurries to the door, tightening his robe around himself before pulling it open. Standing there is a man he doesn’t recognize, and in his hands rests a large, beautiful bouquet of bright yellow daffodils.

“Park Jimin?”

Jimin nearly jumps at the sound of his name before he nods in confirmation, completely dumfounded.

“Delivery.” 

He nods again, mouth agape, and accepts the bouquet graciously. 

“This came with it, too.” Instructs the man as he passes over a yellow envelope before tipping his hat and turning to leave. 

Jimin pushes his door closed with his hip and leans his weight against it, staring bright eyed at the arrangement clutched in his hands. Despite his stuffy nose, the smell of the bouquet is strong, and it makes him smile as his mind fills with thoughts of his shop. 

After allowing himself a moment of admiration, Jimin quickly scurries into his kitchen and grabs a vase. He’s eager to have his hands free so he can read the corresponding letter and get to the bottom of the mysterious delivery. 

With the flowers now appropriately situated in the middle of his kitchen table, Jimin plops himself down with a sniffle and tears into the envelope. He pulls out a card that’s garnished with yellow flowers and big, cursive lettering that reads ‘Get Well Soon’ across the front. He can’t help but smile as his mind wanders to Namjoon — the only one who knew he was sick — and how sweet of a gesture this was.

He opens the card expecting his friend’s messy handwriting and is instead met with a folded piece of drawing paper and note written in bright blue ink. His heart skips a beat. 

It was from Yoongi.

Jimin,

Sorry you haven’t heard from me sooner. I'm really struggling to shake this cold — I want to be healthy first before I ask you out on a date, haha.

 But anyway, a little birdie told me that you’re not feeling very well. (That same little birdie was very willing to give me your address. Two can play at this game, you know.)

I can't stop myself from feeling partially responsible for the state you’re in. I guess that’s what you get for showing up at a plague victim’s apartment, though, yeah? I mean, I don’t want to say I told you so, but…

I told you so.

-Yoongi

p.s. — I would’ve dropped these off myself, but...didn’t think aggravating my allergies on top of this god awful cold would’ve been my best idea. Sorry for supporting your competition but for some reason my favourite flower shop was closed. What else was I supposed to do? Get well soon. xx

 Jimin reads the note a second time, and then a third, before bringing it tightly to his chest. His mind races, and everything feels almost like a fever dream. He nearly thinks he should pinch himself. Instead however, he sets the note down and begins to unfold the drawing paper. Inside is a beautifully coloured drawing of sunflowers. Jimin instantly recognizes it as the same drawing he had seen half-finished in Yoongi’s sketchbook a few days prior. He can hardly contain the smile that overtakes his face as he squeezes the drawing to his chest in a similar way to the note.

Min Yoongi was full of surprises, this much was now obvious, and Jimin can’t stop himself from feeling silly for having been so worried. 

With his head swimming and heart racing, the florist makes his way back into his living room and scoops up his phone.

Yoongi, he types with a playful smile, why didn’t you just text me?