exo drabbles.
prompt: flowershop hunhan
It was a bad idea from the start to let Sehun man the shop on his own. This high school intern, unused to his lanky limbs, unable to tell a carnation from a rose, running the only florist in town whilst his manager makes a trip to a restaurant fifteen minutes away to visit his boyfriend.
"Do you really trust me, hyung?" Sehun hesitates by the counter. The orange tulips to his right glare daggers into his knees.
Yixing smiles disarmingly, bright enough to pull all the flowers in the store to face him. "Of course! I'll only be gone for an hour, and you know your way around. What's the worst that can happen?"
Turns out: it is an androgynous man in designer shades and black Nikes, unable to form a coherent sentence in korean and constantly referring to Sehun as ke ai. What the hell does that even mean?
"I'm sorry," he says for the fifth or sixth time, "could you, uh, point to the flowers you want?"
The man huffs, pulls his shades back and a pair of the most sparkling eyes stare back at him. "No, no, no! Bu yao hwa, Yixing zai na li?"
Sehun gets the name muttered somewhere amongst the mandarin. "Yixing hyung? He's out right now. Do you wanna, uh, leave a note?"
Somehow he gets the man to buy a bouquet and leave a note with it for Yixing, though in his mind he found it redundant and kinda dumb. The man sighs and looks hard at him one last time before shaking his head and leaving the store.
True to his word, Yixing returns an hour later, and, upon hearing the story of Mr Mandarin and his bouquet, laughs to the moon and back. Hints of diamond tears dot the corners of his eyes. He picks up the note, puts his laughter at bay, and translates the hastily scrawled mandarin into comprehensible Korean.
"Yixing, tell this walking noodle that he's stupid and cute and that I want to go on a date with him and give him my number and these flowers. xx Luhan"
prompt: high school teacher chen + suchen
Semester ends sooner than later in Jongdae's opinion when unfinished reports pull themselves out of the closet and onto his overflowing desk, essays and research assignments shuffled so carelessly the table's more paper than wood.
So that's why when parent teacher interview comes, the sallowed-in faces of his two hundred blur in together, a's and d's sound the same, most of the time starring into the eyes of parents and looking through them, past them, at the hazy outline of his bed and indented pillow still warm to the sleepy touch a highway away. Don't blame him when literally every mother begs for more homework more discipline tougher attitude and the father nods and says-
"What about his behaviour in class?"
Jongdae's thinking about his bed. And not some Sehun or whatever trying to keep his nervousness under a stony facade, or his suit'n'tie businessman of a dad - who's gold Rolex's reflection keeps shining in his eyes - though now he knows where Sehun gets his charming looks from.
"Well, it could improve," is Jongdae's standard answer. It applies to most of his male students so majority rules, but wait-was it Sehun the one that sleeps through class or Jongin?
The father, Kim Junmyeon, purses his lips and leans forward in his seat; a very formal etiquette of the upper business class. "He hasn't been keeping company with the rough sorts, has he? Especially Park Chanyeol or Huang Zitao?"
Sehun breaks his cool for the first time in the session. "Dad! I've been good I swear! I've been scoring perfects all term!"
Junmyeon looks at him patiently and exhales particularly forceful. "Good grades don't make good character, Sehun. Now if the teacher thinks you have room improvement than you should take his advice."
Even under the gauntly school floresence Junmyeon still manages to look like a million dollars. But that is so not what this interview is about so Jongdae quickly skims over the little descriptions he wrote for each student made specifically for cloudy-minded situations like this and realizes that no, Sehun's behaviour does not require changing for it is flawless, and yes it is Jongin who sleeps through his class, and he can't exactly remember what he told them when they came an hour ago.
"I am so sorry," Jongdae wipes his face with his hands red and limp from over-exhaustion, "I was mistaken. Sehun's behaviour has been excellent in class. And coupled with his high grades he is the best student of my class. An absolute pleasure to teach."
This shocks Sehun, who's ears turn a fiery shade of red, and definately surprises his father, who widens his eyes and smiles small but proudly, straightening his back and pats Sehun's thighs.
The interview ends quite sweetly on that note and though Jongdae is sad to see his eye candy go, shakes firm hands with him. "Take it easy," Junmyeon laughs, "get some sleep. You look like you need it."
Jongdae shakes his head and blinks the adrenaline back into his body. "I do," and in his mind he sees his soft, inviting bed, and a certain light that keeps shining into his eyes from gold wristwatch.
prompt: kindergarten teacher chen
Come naptime, two-thirty sharp with the frost coming in early, Kim Jongdae thought his day as a kindergarten teacher would come to a peaceful end, screen fading into credits as he closes the door on the eighteen knocked out kids strewn all across the play room floor. Maybe make himself a cup of tea, pat himself on the back, watch the snow bury the garden alive.
Except for a minor issue. The movie jars back to life, an epilogue nobody wanted. Age lines claw at the corner of Jongdae's eyes.
Out in the blanket of snow, a little sprout of a boy is making snow angels, and Jongdae knows exactly who this boy is even before seeing his face.
"Baekhyun," Jongdae uses his disappointed teacher voice, "I thought I said no more playing outside. You know it's naptime."
Baekhyun whines into the air, rolling away, sugarcoated in snow. "But I'm not sleepy, Mr Kim!"
"Rules are rules. Now come inside, or do I have to tell your dad you've been naughty again?"
This grabs the boys attention. "Okay! Okay! But I'm not sleepy..." He looses his footing a few times trying to run in before Jongdae actually decides to tell on him. The contrast of temperature paints Baekhyun's cheeks pink.
"Sleep, now, Baekhyun."
Baekhyun pouts, but does as he's told because his dad, though all nice and smiley, could crack harder than thunder when need be, and Jongdae can see the droopiness of the eyelids from all the energy spent playing in the snow. He stalks off to the playroom, and when the door is finally shut does Jongdae breath a second sigh of relief.