There are Many Flowers in Seoul

Chapter Forty

When Tae-won woke in the blanket fort the following morning, he was alone. Sleepily, he reached out across the floor in search of Rose but found no one at his side. If it hadn't been for the box of his mother's notes or the fact that he was under a table instead of in his bed, he might have thought it had been a dream. It wouldn't have been the first time Rose had invaded his sleeping mind. While he slept, he relived every smile, every laugh, and every argument they'd ever had. He recalled how he'd lost control in the cupboard and had almost kissed her on the mouth but had instead directed the kiss to the bridge of her nose, coming to his senses at the last moment. He thought about how she might have died that day on the rooftop because he'd thought his plan to trap her so that he could convince her to work with him had been smart. And he thought about how he couldn't tell her how beautiful she was when she modelled, or that she was a natural and should try to make a career of it.

It seemed as though Rose had blossomed inside of his heart like a flower, and the memories of their time together were scattered like petals upon his soul.

'Rose?' he asked when he heard a clatter from outside of the fort followed by swearing. Alert at last, Tae-won scrabbled out of the makeshift tent and stood in time to see Rose running her hand under the tap, a trickle of red running through the water from the cut on her finger. Rain still lashed at the windows outside, but she'd changed back into her clothes from the night before and looked to be in a far more presentable state than he was. Tae-won hurried to her side and pressed a towel against the wound hard enough to encourage the blood to clot and held her hand in both of his. 'Why are you hurt? What did you do?'

'I was trying to make you breakfast,' Rose said. Her gaze drifted to the failed attempts which sat on the counter – undercooked eggs and bacon burnt beyond all recognition. It was incredible that the smell and noise hadn't woken Tae-won earlier. Heat flushed her cheeks, turning her skin pink, and Rose confessed, 'I don't know how to cook. I was just trying to thank you for last night.'

'Idiot,' he scolded. 'Go and put the blankets back in my room. I'll make us breakfast. Ah, one moment.' Tae-won rummaged through a nearby drawer and pulled out a small first-aid kit. After wrestling a band-aid from it's wrapping, he secured it around the cut and kissed her finger gently.

'Do your kisses have healing powers?' Rose teased.

'People tell me they're magical.'

'Lots of people? Mostly women?'

'Ah,' he smirked, 'that's what they call kissing and telling, isn't it?'

'I don't want to hear it, anyway,' Rose said. 'After all, I'm the last person you kissed.'

He nodded. 'True. But that was last night, and that was such a long time ago.'

'Cute,' she replied. 'You're not getting another one until you brush your teeth.'

Rose danced around Tae-won. He didn't try too hard to catch her – it wasn't like she was about to run out of the apartment – and watched with a smile as she gathered up the blankets and stumbled off around the corner with them. The reason he'd chosen his home was because it reminded him of the one he'd shared with his mother. To recapture those long-lost feelings of warmth, he'd found a building full of families and normal people just trying to make a living and provide for their children. Even then, he'd found it difficult to live there. Without his mother's presence it was just another hollow apartment without personality or light. But when he watched Rose scurry away – when he'd sat with her on the sofa to watch television and dried her hair – it felt like the days he'd cherished so dearly in his youth.