Stray Kids one shots || honeyndwild

Jisung | soulmates

Soulmate AU where a flower appears somewhere in your house every time your soulmate smiles.

Han doesn't have a home. At least, the Universe thinks this way.

No, of course, he has a place to live. A tiny studio in the suburbs, so small it doesn't even fit a dining table, and every time you come to visit him, the only place where you can sit in his small bed. Filled with books and papers, microscopes and Petri dishes, the flat not only have no space for you but there's barely space for Han himself.

And of course, the flowers don't bloom in there.

You also have a flat. Han uses it as his home sometimes too. In the centre of the city, bright and airy, your flat accommodates a sofa and a dining table for 4 people, and even a double bed with soft soap-smelling bedsheets that Han adores so much.

By Murphy's Law, the Universe thinks it's your true home, and your flowers bloom in there shamelessly without disturbing anyone. Deep blue cornflowers, pale pink bindweeds, buttercups and chamomiles, they occupy your kitchen and living room, sometimes bloom on the top of the toilet tank or your pillows. And Han finds it really clever. And comfortable. Useful, after all.

But his buttercups and chamomiles bloom on his laboratory desk instead. They bloom on his microscopes or inside his too expensive professional fridge, and, no, he can't say he hates them, it's just— Sometimes it sends him off. Especially, when he has a lot of work to do.

Like today, for example.

At 9 pm, the office drowns in silence. The workers left an hour ago, all the computers are already turned off and are asleep. Han knows about this but doesn't give a shit. The light in his laboratory is still on, the papers are still not filled out. He knows he has at least 2 more hours till the security will cut the power off, and he wants to use them as productively as he can.

But, of course, Could it really be that simple?

A small pink bindweed. It appears secretly, cheekily grows out of the table, wrapping itself around the microscope, and Han almost throws away a Petri dish with something green in there, because no, he can't handle any intervention right now.

"Y/n," he exhales shakily, carefully setting the dish aside. "I love you y/n, but—" In front of his nose, a small bindweed swings carelessly from side to side, and Han groans exhaustedly, leaning in and smelling its faint smell. "And I'm glad you're happy, but please, stop smiling! I can't work because of that—"

A soft rustle behind his back makes him turn around. A bunch of chamomiles pop on the fridge door, its roots spreading over the iron surface, trying to cling onto something and not fall. Han stares at the way their translucent petals unfold in front of his face. He counts the flowers and realises you're probably watching something on your phone because the amount of blossoms looks like you are laughing.

He should get used to it, to the sudden warmth that always spreads all over his body and to the way his chest always starts aching when bouquets appear. He knows it's not something important, just you, probably laughing at something. But the only thought of you being happy—

It sends him to heaven.

Han caresses the chamomiles thoughtlessly, his mind already drifting to you, probably sitting on your big, comfortable sofa, your cat lying on your stomach, your eyes shining with laughter.

The flowers cling to his hand the same way you do when you want to feel his warmth a tad bit closer, and Han gives in. The clock shows bright "21:17", more cornflowers grow on his bookshelves and ceiling, and Han decides it's time to go home.

Your flat meets him with warmth and a strong watermelon smell. A big grey cat rubs against his legs, but runs away to the kitchen the second Han notices him and tries to pat his head.

The watermelon smell gets stronger when Han moves deeper into the house, and then fully hits his nose when he steps into the living room.

He notices it instantly. The watermelon lies on the coffee table split in half, big, red and juicy. You eat it right with your bare hands, Han can't help but chuckle at that, "Hey."

A lonely cornflower appears on the sofa's arm the second later, the result of Han's small smile.

"Hey," the juice runs down your fingers, and you quickly lick it away before it drops on your grey pants. "I bought a watermelon."

You smile with just the corners of your lips. Two pink bindweeds entwine the leg of the chair in the kitchen.

Han laughs quietly and steps closer, "I see."

"Wanna try?"

"Only from your hands."

A bouquet of chamomiles pops right in the middle of the living room. Han counts their flowers out of habit, it's always interesting how many smiles he shared while laughing.
This time he finds 8.

The watermelon melts on his tongue, sugary juice filling his mouth. Han chews his first piece quickly, dying out of pleasure, and you chuckle knowingly at that, shoving a few more pieces into your mouth.

"I want more," he smiles, leaning on the back of the sofa. The buttercup comes out right under his side, and he quickly caresses it.

The sticky juice runs down your fingers again when you press another watermelon piece to Han's mouth. One little pink drop slowly slides down your fingertips, and he stares at it for a few long seconds before quickly licking it off.

This time, a few bindweeds entwine Han's hand that is laying on the sofa's surface. Soft petals tickle his skin, but all he can think about is the way you smile into his kiss, your watermelon tongue and sugary teeth stealing his whole attention.

Han knows, tomorrow morning his laboratory is going to be filled with flowers. Deep blue cornflowers, pale pink bindweeds, buttercups and chamomiles, they are going to bloom in the most random places, on his desk, on his bookshelves, on his papers and equipment and inside his fridge. But honestly, he kinda doesn't care.