When Petals Fall

Garden of Thoughts

The days since their visit to the café had passed in a pleasant blur of warm spring weather and shared moments. Wooyoung had invited San over a few times since, each meeting effortlessly deepening the ease between them. It was as though the years apart had melted away, leaving behind the simple comfort of their childhood bond—but with something new blooming beneath the surface, unspoken yet undeniable.

This time, Wooyoung had invited San over to his apartment, specifically to his balcony garden. It was a modest space, tucked above the bustling city, but Wooyoung had transformed it into something special. Potted plants of all shapes and sizes lined the railings, their green leaves speckled with raindrops from a brief morning shower. Brightly colored flowers peeked out from the soil, their petals glowing in the sunlight filtering through the clouds.

"You weren't kidding about your garden," San remarked as he stepped onto the balcony, carefully avoiding a tray of small pots. "This looks like something out of a magazine."

Wooyoung grinned, adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on his head. "I take my hobbies seriously, thank you very much. It's my little escape from the world."

San chuckled, kneeling next to a row of unopened bags of soil. "You've definitely got a vibe going. So, what's the plan, Mr. Gardener?"

Wooyoung handed him a small spade, his smile widening. "The plan is teamwork. I got these new flowers—petunias and marigolds. Thought you could help me plant them since you're here."

San raised an eyebrow. "So, you invited me over to be free labor?"

"Exactly," Wooyoung quipped, already crouched near a freshly dug patch of soil. "Consider it payback for making me walk the plank all those years ago."

San shook his head with a laugh but joined him anyway, grabbing one of the petunia pots and carefully removing the plant from its container.

As they worked, the sounds of the city below faded into the background. The rhythmic rustle of soil and the occasional chirp of a bird filled the space between their conversation, which flowed easily, as if they'd never lost touch at all.

"So," Wooyoung began, breaking a comfortable silence, "what's next for you, San? Any grand plans?"

San paused, crumbling a clump of soil between his fingers. "Honestly? I'm still figuring it out. I've got ideas, but nothing set in stone yet. What about you?"

Wooyoung shrugged, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I don't know. Sometimes, I think about trying something totally different, like moving to the countryside or opening a little café. Other times, I'm happy just... being here, I guess."

San looked at him, his gaze steady. "You've always been good at making wherever you are feel special."

The sincerity in his voice caught Wooyoung off guard, and he ducked his head, suddenly focused on the flowerpot in his hands. "Thanks. That means a lot."

The sun shifted, casting golden light across the balcony. They continued working side by side, their conversation turning to lighter topics—funny memories from school, the quirks of mutual friends, the endless charm of spring.

At one point, Wooyoung reached for a pot on the edge of the table, not realizing how close he was to knocking it over. San reacted instinctively, his hand darting out to steady Wooyoung's arm.

"Careful," San said, his voice soft, his hand lingering for just a moment too long.

The touch sent a jolt through both of them. Wooyoung froze, his heart suddenly pounding, and he glanced up to meet San's eyes. For a brief moment, time seemed to slow, the sounds of the city and the warmth of the sun fading into the background.

San quickly pulled his hand back, clearing his throat. "You almost gave me a heart attack," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sorry," Wooyoung muttered, a nervous laugh escaping him as he turned back to the flowers. His cheeks felt warm, though he wasn't sure if it was from the sunlight or something else entirely.

They returned to their task, but the easy rhythm from earlier had shifted slightly, replaced by a quiet awareness of the other's presence. Neither commented on it, but it lingered in the air like the faint scent of blossoms.

As they finished planting the last of the flowers, Wooyoung leaned back on his heels, brushing dirt off his hands. "Not bad for a day's work," he said, gesturing at the freshly planted row.

San smiled, his gaze soft as he took in the colorful garden they'd created together. "Yeah, it looks good. You've got a real talent for this, Woo."

Wooyoung looked at him, his chest tightening at the casual use of the nickname. It was something San had called him years ago, back when they were inseparable. Hearing it again now felt like a piece of the past slipping into the present.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the breeze.

As they sat there, surrounded by the soft hues of spring flowers and the gentle warmth of the afternoon sun, both found themselves wondering the same thing: if this could be something more. Neither said it aloud, but the thought lingered, as steady and persistent as the blooming petals around them.