"Jihyun, come on now, don't be shy."

The boy's bright blue eyes peeked out from beside his mother's leg, gripping her skirt in his small hands. The two families stood between their houses, new neighbors meeting. Jihyun looked at the boy who stood with his parents, not the least bit shy, standing quietly in front of his mother.

'He must be hot,' Jihyun thought, looking at the boy's clothes, a button-up shirt with a small bow tie and a vest. Jihyun looked down at his own, t-shirt and shorts, his socks that climbed up mid-calf, small penny loafers on his feet.

Jihyun watched his father shake hands with the other man, saying things like "Chairman, huh?" and "Where does Jumin go to school?". Jihyun missed his old house. It was small and quaint and he had friends that he met on the weekends and played hopscotch with while their mothers drank tea. This new house was big, too big, and he felt that it might swallow him whole if he wasn't careful.

"Jumin, why don't you go show Jihyun the backyard?" The boy, Jumin, with curly black hair and long legs, nodded to his mother and looked to Jihyun, who shrunk against his grey eyes. Jumin began walking away, towards the gate of the white picket fence, and Jihyun, nervous, followed him quickly, not wanting to be left alone with the adults if he had the chance to play games, even if it was with this new neighbor.

Jumin's backyard was big, and tall oak trees reached over to make shade for the two boys. A kiddie pool filled with crystalline water sat happily in the center of the backyard, and a large play structure with a slide, swings, and a lookout point was built on the left corner. Jihyun watched Jumin take off his shoes and socks and step into the pool, the hems of his shorts kissing the surface of the clear blue. Jumin looked back at Jihyun and his lips twitched into a small smile, "You can come in if you want."

Jihyun was frozen for a few moments. He looked back and saw that his parents were still talking with Jumin's. He blinked back at Jumin. "Isn't it cold?" He asked quietly. Jumin shook his head, his black hair falling over his eyelashes. Hesitantly, Jihyun shuffled over to the pool and took off his shoes, touching his foot carefully to the water before splashing a bit as he stepped in. Jumin was right. The water was warm from standing out in the sun. Jihyun smiled. The sun behind Jumin's head made him look like one of the paintings that he saw at church back in his old city.

Jihyun held out his hand. "I'm Jihyun," he said to Jumin, holding his head straight like his father told him to instead of slouching.

The boy with the dark hair and grey eyes took Jihyun's hand. It was cool to the touch and clammy. "I'm Jumin."

...

"Jumin, hold still, or else it will come out blurry."

Jihyun squatted next to Jumin, who lay in the grass of his backyard, eyes closed.

"I am being still. I've been still for the past 10 minutes," Jumin replied and peeked one eyelid open. Jihyun's large camera stared back at him, held up to Jumin's friend's face, big and bulky. Jumin sighed and relaxed, the summer air floating over his face as the grass tickled his arms.

Jihyun and Jumin were 10 years old now, and Jihyun was fidgetting around with one of his father's antique cameras, adjusting his focus and shuffling around Jumin's peaceful face to capture the right angle.

"I want to get a good one, there's only one card left." The camera was a Polaroid, and at a dozen white, square photos were already laying facedown on the grass. Jumin squinted through his lashes at Jihyun, who was smiling. "I've got it, I've got it. Don't. Move." Jumin rolled his eyes under closed lids. The snap of the shutter flicked through the air, and Jumin sat up.

"Done?" He asked, and Jihyun nodded excitedly, laying the card on the grass. His bright blue eyes were blinding teal when the sunlight caught them, and Jumin thought self-consciously of his pain grey eyes, which usually made him look hollow and pale. Jihyun's eyes were so bright, he could be the sun too, with his skin so pale it was basically translucent and his yellow hoodie.

"Jihyun, I have lemonade. What are you doing with Daddy's camera? Bring it over, please." Jihyun's mom, in her long apron and short hair, closed the screen door behind her as she carried a tray with two sparkling glasses of lemonade on them. Jihyun looked sadly at the precious camera before trotting up to his mother.

Before he could reach her, his foot landed wrong as he ran and he tripped. Crunch. Jihyun's mother looked up from the lemonade she was placing on the table, eye's wide. Jihyun slowly picked himself up, but his weight had crushed the large camera into pieces. Jihyun was crying, but Jumin didn't know if it was because of the camera or his fall.

Jihyun's mother's sharp eyes shot to Jumin and her loud voice instructed him to wait inside. Just as he was walking past Jihyun, looking down at his friend, troubled, Jihyun's father appeared at the door. Jumin shivered, and he wanted nothing but to stay with Jihyun, to protect him.

"Jihyun, is that my camera?" Jumin didn't hear the rest, he was being whisked inside by Jihyun's mother, placed gingerly on the couch before the woman hurried back outside. Jumin turned towards the window, watching with wide eyes as the middle-aged man swung his hand, hard, and an echoing crack split the air. Jihyun stumbled, holding a hand to his cheek, before plopping down in the grass, tears streaming down his face. Jihyun's parents exchanged a few words, then the woman knelt down, placed Jihyun back up on his feet, and pointed at the door. Jihyun nodded to his mother and walked quickly up the porch to the house. Jumin scrambled off the couch as Jihyun entered.

A large, red hand imprinted across Jihyun's cheek, sharp and scary. "You should go home," he said, "We can't play anymore today." Jumin nodded. He didn't know what to say. His parents had never hit him. Instead, he put a hand on Jihyun's small shoulder, squeezed it gently, then walked to the front of the house, then outside. His tears were flowing before he made it out the front door.

...

"You two are confusing."

Jumin looked at the two twins in disbelief. Eighth grade and these two had been causing trouble all year, Saeyoung and Saeran. The two redheads had angelic golden eyes, but as soon as the teacher's back was turned, they wrecked havoc, folding their notes into paper airplanes that soared across the classroom and hit the teacher in the back of the head, saying each other's names during roll call, 'experimenting' in science class and singing the student teacher's hair, sharpening their pencils loudly during silent tests or sneezing obnoxiously. The only way to tell them apart was that Saeyoung wore glasses, but when he opted for contacts, the two were absolutely identical.

"Come again?" Jumin said, rolling his shoulders. Jihyun sat next to him on the swings, drawing patterns in the sand with his dangling sneakers. The playground was full of their class, all jumping and laughing. Jihyun and Jumin usually hung out together on the swings, though, just talking or relaxing in the afternoon. Today they had been interrupted by the two seventh graders, the Choi twins, holding hands and wearing matching striped shirts. Saeyoung was wearing his glasses, and he was the one that had spoken. Although identical, Saeran was usually the shier one, coming up with the plans of havoc rather than actually performing them.

Saeyoung tipped his head to the side, "Jihyun and Jumin. It's confusing. You're two 'J's and you're both rich and always hanging out with each other."

"You're one to talk," Jumin muttered, and Saeran tipped his head the same way Saeyoung had, puzzled.

"Jihyun needs a different name," Saeran said in his light, airy tone. Jumin looked over at his best friend, who glanced up at the twins. His teal hair fell over his eyes.

"Hm?" Jihyun hummed, pulling out the sound. His hands were wrapped around the chains of the swing, and his convenience-store disposable camera was bulky in his khaki-shorts pocket. Jumin vowed to buy Jihyun a real camera one day, one with the adjustable lens and neck strap. Jihyun would like that.

"Saeyoung, Jihyun always does this is photos," Saeran lifted his hand to his face, making a peace sign with his fingers on his cheek. Saeyoung looked at him for a few seconds, then took his brother's hand, looking at the shape.

"V," he said. Saeran nodded in agreement. Jumin frowned.

"Jihyun's name is perfectly fine the way it is, thanks. People can tell us apart, at least we're not identical, like you two." He felt a little bit upset at the twins for wanting to change his gentle friend. Jumin personally thought that the name Jihyun was pretty, fitting for the slim, fragile boy beside him. But as he looked over at his best friend, Jihyun was smiling.

"V," Jihyun said, and nodded to the twins, "I like it." Jumin's eyes bugged out. Why would Jihyun want to be called a letter? A weird letter, too. Who calls themselves V? V for vendetta, vengeance, viscount, velociraptor. Jumin couldn't think of any word that started with V that sounded pretty or pleasant. But Jihyun looked happy with his new name as the Choi twins walked away, hand-in-hand.

"V, huh?" Jumin said casually.

Jihyun nodded. "Jumin and V."

Jumin liked it better when their names were together like that. He pumped his legs and they raced to see who could reach the highest first. Jumin and V.

...

"You failed it? Again?" Jumin was lying facedown on his bed, a large package open next to him, his letter from drivers ed. telling him he'd failed the driving portion. For the fifth time.

"I thought I might've passed this time! I aced the written test, but I just suck at the actual driving! Maybe I'll have to get my own driver." Jumin sighed and rolled onto his back. V was sitting at Jumin's desk, twirling a pen between his fingers.

It was after school, year 11 of high school. Because of Jumin's inconvenient birthday in October, he was younger than most in his grade so he had been forced to wait to take his driving test until junior year. But now that he was actually taking the test, his confidence in finally driving one his family's slick, black Teslas was dwindling.

"Jumin, how hard can it be? Don't people usually fail the writing part?" V looked at him, concerned. He, with his earlier September birthday, had the opposite situation. While Jumin had started a year early for school, V was one of the older students because of the cutoff, so he was able to take his driving test sophomore year. Jumin didn't think it was fair, but V was a good driver, he had passed the first time.

"I'm sure you'll get it next time," V said soothingly, but his smile poked fun and Jumin. Sitting up, Jumin looked at his friend.

"I think you're just good at everything, V. Is that possible?"

...

-Last year-

"Ju-Ju," V slurred, an arm over Jumin's shoulders. He held a bottle of beer in his free hand, and his shirt had dried drips of alcohol over it from its spillage. Finals were over, freshman year of college. Of course, Jumin and V were at the same college. Their parents had wanted only the best, even if V's parents weren't exactly thrilled at V's photography major. Jumin was in business, preparing to take over C&R when his father retired. But right now, phone calls and photographs were far from Jumin and V's minds. They were focused on the party they were at, bodies all around them, drinking and laughing.

V clung to Jumin, who hadn't drunk nearly as much as his best friend, with a goofy, intoxicated smile on his face. Jumin led him over to a couch, sunken in and covered in potato chip crumbs. Jumin placed V on the couch, pointing a finger at him before saying sharply, "Stay." V giggled and saluted, lips pouted.

Jumin slipped through the crowd, looking for the closet where he had stored his wool coat, containing his phone, his wallet, keys. Pushing a couple that was making out off of the door, Jumin reached inside the closet and hastily grabbed his coat. He wanted to get away from the couple as soon as possible, a little freaked out by the way they were practically eating each other's faces. Jumin wondered how on earth that was attractive to some people. He checked his pockets to make sure that all of his possessions were there, then whisked back to the couch.

For a second, time froze. Jumin's heart lurched. A girl, Jumin didn't know how old- she looked young, was straddling V on the couch, holding his face in her hands, kissing him just like the couple at the closet. And V was kissing her back. Her long, blonde hair was messy and trailed down her back in ringlets, and she wore black leggings with a light blue blouse. V's hands were on her waist. Jumin swallowed, hard. He felt his hands sweat up, but he knew he couldn't leave V there.

Gathering his courage, Jumin approached V and cleared his throat loudly. "V," he said sharply. The girl broke the kiss and looked up at Jumin. Her lipstick was smeared, and a quick glance at V showed where it had gone. His mouth was covered in light, velvety pink. His eyes were still closed, a faint smile on his lips. The girl, with bright green eyes, giggled, then stepped off of V, walking back to the crowd, tipsy and thin. Jumin looked down at V in disapproval. But the intoxicated 18-year-old was oblivious.

Jumin heaved V up from the couch, slinging his arm once again over his shoulders, and he helped his friend stumble back to his dorm. "Ju-Ju," V said again as Jumin dug in V's grey slacks for his room keys. Once located, Jumin looked up. V was smiling dreamily, a pinky to his pink lips, trailing over his pillowy mouth with his fingertip.

"What is it?" Jumin asked, slightly exasperated. V wasn't as light as he looked- it was probably his height- so Jumin's arms were a bit tired of holding V up.

"You're... smmm... cute!" V squeaked the last word, eyes bright as he then giggled uncontrollably. Jumin looked at him, amused. V smelled like sour dandelions, but it was still sweet in his own way. Jumin felt lightheaded when he breathed V's smell in too deeply, when he wasn't drunk, of course- Jumin preferred the smell of wine over beer.

"Am I?" He pondered to V as he unlocked his dorm room door for his friend. V nodded seriously.

"Veeery cute." V grinned. Jumin pushed the door open and was about to lead his friend in when V swung forward and pressed his mouth to Jumin's. Jumin blinked. V's bubblegum-pink lips, smudged with lipstick, were soft and dry, unmoving and cloud-like. Jumin's hand was still on the doorknob. V pulled away quickly, grinned at Jumin, and then stumbled into his room, closing the door behind him.

Jumin stood, frozen in the hallway, his eyes wide and his back stiff. Confused, drunk, and exhausted, he walked down two flights of stairs to his own dorm room, walking inside, dazed, and slowly undressing, peeling off his sweaty clothes before slipping under his sheets. The world spun before his eyes, and everything he thought he knew shifted and slid a little, his heart beating fast, chest rising and falling quickly. Jumin gulped, eyelids heavy. Sleep was welcomed.

V, what have you done to me, you beautiful boy.

...

Jumin poured wine into his glass, then champagne into V's and Rika's. They were standing around the kitchen island, back at Jumin's house. It was Thanksgiving break, the day before the three would travel back to college. Jumin's father wasn't home; he was having brunch with his new girlfriend and a few of his colleagues from work. Jumin hadn't met the new woman yet, but he was sure she wouldn't last very long, just like the others. Anyways, Jumin had no interest in meeting the television star. She would probably just flirt with him too and try to take the family's money.

Jumin gave his two friends their drinks, then leaned against the counter. It was late, and they had already had quite a few drinks. Rika held the glass delicately, and Jumin knew it was because she had come from a poor family where wine glasses were something unheard of. Jumin knew he was privileged, but he had also seen pictures of Rika and her father together, hugging and smiling, and he couldn't help but compare them to the newspaper clippings of Chairman Han and himself, looking stoic and businesslike. Jumin couldn't remember the last time he and his father had hugged. Sometimes, but only once in a blue moon, Jumin wished he could swap their rich life to a less crowded, relaxed way of living, without so much money. He wished that his father could be more like a father and less like a boss. He wished his father was actually interested in Jumin's life instead of asking for papers and reports before dismissing him.

Rika's relationship with her father wasn't the only reason Jumin envied her. She had been the one at the party last year, kissing V, both drunk, on the couch. Jumin had never forgotten that night. It was the night that his heart had followed V into his dorm room, leaving Jumin's chest to become stuck to his best friend. V hadn't remembered the kiss: he was blackout drunk, so Jumin was forced to live with the knowledge daily. Shortly after the party, V and Rika had met officially, Rika admiring V's excellent photography, asking if it was for sale. V had told Jumin all about their first coffee date, and Jumin, slate-faced and expressionless, had told V to date her if he wanted. And now, here they were, 9 months later, shoulders brushing as they stood next to each other.

Jumin thought it might be for the best that he was in love with the one person that he couldn't have. He wasn't interested in anyone else, so rumors about his sexuality leaked through the media as he declined woman after woman, who, offended and hurt, then went to the news, spreading 'Jumin Han: Gay?' over articles everywhere. It didn't really effect Jumin, but the truth is, if any man approached him, he would decline him too. There was only one person who Jumin thought he could ever accept, and that was the person who stood in front of him now, separated by a few dozen inches of granite countertop and a serious relationship.

...

Jumin had taken the flower petals calmly. When he first started coughing them up, the pink peonies that haunted his life now, he paid it no mind. He hated hospitals and he didn't want to be ridiculed. Of course, he wasn't crazy, he knew that. By now, it was just something he lived with. The tickle in his throat was a part of his everyday life. Pink petals were something that he lived with, no matter how sore his throat sometimes was after an especially bad fit, heaving over his toilet bowl in his dorm room. It was hard to live with the petals at school, but Jumin had eventually just learned to swallow the petals back down, even if it meant bile came up the next time.

Jumin had thought he was one-of-a-kind. He had thought that he was the only one who had these petals. So that was why he was so surprised when he saw MC, a friend of Saeran's, exhale a plume of yellow petals onto Saeran's driveway as he left. Saeran and Saeyoung, the Choi brothers, had eventually wormed their way into becoming friends with Jumin and V, proud that their nickname for Jihyun had stuck. They weren't so bad now, freshmen at the local college which was close enough that V and Jumin sometimes came down on weekends to visit.

Their other friends consisted of Yoosung, a childish senior in high school with MC, and Zen, an actor who took online courses. Zen was... interesting, in his own way. He and Jumin never got along, but when he got drunk, and that was often, he got pretty horny and rubbed up against Jumin like Elizabeth 3rd, Jumin's snowy white cat. Jumin had considered hooking up with Zen a few times but then decided against it as soon as he remembered V's eyes, the color of the Icelantic lagoons. Jumin couldn't hide from V's eyes, which were calm and steady and quiet.

When Jumin heard from V that MC was in surgery, he had left his class mid-lecture, speeding down to the hospital. He knew it had to do with the flower petals, whatever they were, whatever they meant. Saeran, worried and frantic, was pacing in the waiting room, desperate for answers. He had told Jumin that MC had started choking on black roses that bloomed out of his mouth. Jumin knew that it had to mean something. He had left Saeran and gone directly to the head of the hospital, demanding that the phenomenon must be kept a secret. In the end, he paid for all of MC's surgery, and an extra $17,000 to make sure that the hospital kept quiet. The head had promptly vowed to never let the secret get out.

After MC was done with surgery, Jumin had floated past a sleeping Saeran into MC's room. He waited there until the teen woke up, and was quickly assured that he remembered nothing, which was puzzling. What was even more confusing was that MC didn't remember ever loving Saeran, or that was the gist of what Jumin caught through MC's jumbled words, as he was heavily sedated. Of course, Jumin had known that MC had had feelings for Saeran, it was the red-headed idiot who hadn't noticed.

Jumin spent the rest of the night thinking about why the 'disease' had struck MC so quickly. How long had he been living with it? Why were his petals different? MC had coughed up roses. Why did it happen? What was the cause?

The answer had struck Jumin like a punch in the gut when Yoosung had walked into the waiting room, looking concerned, and he had spotted Saeran, waking him up to kiss the twin and talk in hushed voices with him. It seemed like Saeran had regained his wits because he didn't tell Yoosung about MC's black roses. The moment Saeran and Yoosung's lips touched, Jumin was thrown into all of his memories of seeing Rika and V kiss too, first on the couch, then as they met in the hallway months later. And Jumin realized that the reason he was coughing up peonies, and previously MC with roses, was because both of them loved someone who didn't love them back.

Pink peonies would stay with Jumin every day as a reminder of his unrequited love.