VELVET CHAINS [Taekook] Petals That Survive the Storm

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🌿 The Boy from Jeju

The wind on Jeju Island always carried the salt of the sea. Taehyung grew up chasing that wind through fields of camellias, his laughter carried with the gulls. His parents were simple people—his mother hummed lullabies while tending to the garden, and his father carved wooden toys late into the night. But life was not kind. A sudden fever took his mother first. Then a year later, his father followed, leaving Taehyung—barely nine—clutching his grandmother’s skirt as the villagers whispered condolences. Grandma Kim Hae‑rin became his whole world. Her cottage stood on a hill where the soil was rich, and flowers bloomed even in the biting wind. Taehyung spent his days kneeling in the dirt, learning to care for roots as if they were fragile hearts.

One evening, after planting white roses, his grandmother crouched beside him, brushing stray soil from his cheeks.

kim hae rin

"Every petal is a soul, Taehyung‑ah,” she whispered, her voice rough but warm.☺️

kim taehyung

“A soul?” his small voice echoed, wide‑eyed.👀

kim hae rin

“Mhm. When you care for them, you learn patience… and healing. One day, when you leave this place, they will guide you.”

kim taehyung

He didn’t understand then, but he remembered every word. 🤓

🌱 The Struggle Years

At sixteen, Taehyung left for Seoul with a scholarship and a heart heavy with homesickness. The city was overwhelming—the noise, the crowds, the endless concrete. Nights were spent sweeping floors at a café, stacking books in a cramped shop, delivering parcels under the rain. He barely slept, sending most of his pay back to Jeju so Grandma Hae‑rin could live comfortably. When loneliness gnawed at him, he found a park and sat by the flowerbeds, sketching petals under the yellow glow of streetlamps. Sometimes strangers would pass and ask what he was drawing.

kim taehyung

“Flowers,” he’d say softly, as if afraid to break the spell.

kim taehyung

“They… don’t judge,” Taehyung would murmur, eyes down. “They just… grow.”😌

🌸 The Dream Takes Root

For years, the dream of a flower shop stayed tucked away—too fragile for the real world. But when he turned twenty‑four, Taehyung finally decided. He packed his few belongings, kissed his grandmother’s forehead, and promised,

kim taehyung

“Halmeoni, I’ll make you proud. I’ll make a place that feels like home.”😊

kim taehyung

The day he arrived in Seoul again as a man, not a boy, the city felt different. He rented a narrow corner shop near a quieter street, walls peeling and windows cracked. He spent nights scrubbing floors, painting walls, setting shelves with trembling hands. He named it “Haneul’s Petals.” Blue hydrangeas by the door, baby’s breath in old teacups, baskets of daisies spilling onto the sidewalk. His hands were always raw from thorns, but every arrangement felt like a prayer. The first months were cruel. Sometimes no one came. Sometimes they came but didn’t buy. But Taehyung smiled at each passerby, offering single stems to lonely strangers.

An elderly man once lingered at the door, staring at the blooms.

stranger

“Boy,” the man said, “these flowers feel alive.”

kim taehyung

Taehyung smiled shyly. “They are… they’re just waiting for someone to love them.”🤭

And little by little, people began to return. A bouquet for a hospital visit. A single lily for an apology. A spray of roses for a funeral. Taehyung listened to every story, tied every ribbon with care, as if each flower could carry someone’s heart to safety.

🌞 On a Different Afternoon…

The playground was alive with shouts and laughter, but in a corner near the steps, Minjun sat with his knees tucked close, a small frown on his tiny face. His best friend Haru, a boy with messy hair and crumbs on his cheeks, flopped down beside him.

haru

“Junnie, you not playin’ tag?” Haru asked, tilting his head.

jeon minjun

Minjun shook his head hard, lips quivering. “Ji‑Jihoon… say I… I weird…” His words stumbled out, soft and broken. “He say… I no mumma… say I baby with no mumma… push me…”🥺

haru

Haru’s eyes widened. “He push you?!”😳

jeon minjun

Minjun nodded, rubbing at his eyes with his small fists. “Appa say… mumma go far far… no come back. But… Jihoon laugh… say nobody love me…” His little voice cracked, tears slipping down😔

haru

Haru puffed out his chest like a tiny soldier. “Jihoon mean! Jihoon dumb! You got Appa! Appa so cool! He pick you up in biiig black car! Zoom zoom!”

jeon minjun

Minjun sniffled. “But… no mumma…”🥺😔

haru

Haru went quiet, his small face scrunching as he thought very hard. Then suddenly his eyes lit up. “Oh! Oh oh oh! Junnie! I know! You find new mumma!”🥴

jeon minjun

Minjun blinked, confused. “New… mumma?” His voice trembled.

haru

“Yesh!” Haru nodded so fast his hair bounced. “Daddy say… if you want somethin’… you just ask! You ask! You find pretty person, you say ‘be my mumma!’ Easy!”

jeon minjun

Minjun’s tears slowed, replaced by a shy, wobbly smile. “Ree… really?”🥺

haru

"Yesh!” Haru declared, flinging his arms wide. “I help you! We look for best mumma. Someone nice! Someone… someone smell like cookies!”😋

jeon minjun

Minjun giggled softly through his sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Okay… we find mumma… soon.”😚

And there, in that simple, innocent conversation under the late afternoon sun, a seed was planted—one that would soon lead Minjun, small and determined, straight toward a boy with gentle hands and a soul full of flowers.

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