minsung one shots ♡

13 - Flowers & Ink (I)

A/N well guess who decided to update 

(because i love a tattoo shop x flower shop au)

 Judging by the amount of missing Monster cans in the fridge, Minho knows that Chan definitely did not get enough sleep last night. (A/N let channie sleep challenge : failed.)

He tiptoed to the shoe rack, pulling out the same pair of grey sneakers he's been wearing everyday since the day he drunkenly bought them, not giving two fucks about the slash it'll be to his bank account.

Three hundred dollars was a perfectly reasonable price for sneakers, right?

He ran through his checklist in his head as he shut the door as quietly as he could, muttering a curse under his breath when it did.

So he's got the keys, wallet, phone, got his rings on, and thankfully hadn't forgotten his sketchbook today.

Satisfied, with the roll call of his belongings, he took his usual everyday route to the subway station, to get to the shop.

It seemed like the universe had noticed his uncomfort with such a quiet morning that day, for when he got on the subway and noticed a bunch of kids gasp at him as he sat down, he knew he was gonna get himself a mini fan meeting in two minutes pronto.

And that ended up being true, obviously, when the old lady and skateboard guy beside him got off for their platform and their seats were immediately hogged by a gaggle of elementary schoolers.

"Hi," a girl with an alarmingly bright pink backpack greeted him, "Hi there." he smiled, gaining a chorus of hello from the rest. "I'm Aarav, I'm 9." a boy with a bowl cut said, "I'm Minho, I'm 21."

"Wow you're old." "Should we call you uncle?"

Minho wanted to cry.

"Uncle, you're very colourful." the first girl said, "It's pretty." "Are they permanent?" another one poked at his exposed bicep, right into Soonie's eyes.

Sorry, Soonie.

"Yes," he smiled "Wow, how many are there?" Minho shrugged, "I never counted." "You have a full colouring book on yourself!" a girl giggled.

"I draw sometimes too," Aarav pulled up his arm sleeve, with doodles of smileys and clouds "But my mom doesn't let me." "You can get them when you're older," Minho smiled.

"When did you get them, uncle?" "When I was 18, that's when you can get them too, okay?"

It was a lie.

His first one was when he was 16. It was his parents' birth flower wreaths, entwined together over his index and middle fingers. It was manipulative material, partially. He knew they'd be touched by it and wouldn't be too mad if he did it behind their backs.

Plus he knew he only had to deal with the first one and the rest he wanted in the future wouldn't cause him a lot of trouble with them.

So here he is, five years later, a so-called "colouring book", if you will.

Ha. Take that, mom and dad.

"Do they have meanings?" "Some of them do, some don't."

"Which one's your favourite?" Minho grinned, pointing to a red ace of spades just below his ear.

"Do they hurt?" "Depends," he nodded "These hurt a lot," he grazed his hand over his neck, "But the arm didn't."

"Do you regret any?" Minho winced, "I have this really bad one on my back, name of my favourite band when I was a kid." "Why did you get it, then?" "I was in a silly goofy mood." (He was drunk as fuck, your honour.)