Chapter Text
Riku had no idea how he ended up at an amateur boxing match — sitting in the first row, VIP, mind you. Well, actually, he did. Two weeks ago, his little flower shop in Seoul got an unusual request: a floral crown for the winner of a tournament. An underground boxing tournament.
At first, Riku giggled at the thought of a boxer, amateur or not, wearing a flower crown. But that exact image was what made him take the job. For days, he tiptoed around the flowers in his shop, flirting with the most radiant and colorful ones, imagining scenes of big, muscular men wearing the crown while sweat slid down their half-naked bodies... Okay, he had to admit: he’d been single for so long that the mere idea of seeing some hot guys was motivational enough. So when the email mentioned he’d get a free ticket to the match, along with a link to the event lineup, complete with photos, he really didn’t stand a chance. Of course, he accepted the silly little gig.
So there he was, two weeks later, in the front row, absolutely regretting his life choices… until the fourth match began.
It was him. The guy whose photo alone had scrambled his brain enough to get him to agree to show up at this sweaty, smelly venue. Riku pulled up the event link again, just to be sure. Kim Daeyoung, it was definitely him. And somehow, he looked even more gorgeous in person than in the photo, even if he was soaked in sweat, the mouthguard deforming his usually perfect jawline.
His legs were longer than he imagined, quick and fast, so fast that his opponent looked slightly confused by the swift movements, even though he seemed prepared and well-trained. Riku’s eyes travelled up as he startled, just as a strong punch landed on the opponent’s head and echoed through the venue. The audience roared, went absolutely wild. He noticed people in the rows behind him rising. But Riku stayed seated, even glued to the seat, because he felt that if he stood up, he’d be the one fainting. Daeyoung’s beautifully built body twinkled under the sweat. His robust biceps, his toned abs, the popping veins guided the sweat to all those beautiful places Riku couldn’t keep his eyes from. And then, when the opponent ended up on the ring canvas, his face smashed against the floor, Riku finally had time to appreciate Daeyoung’s facial features as well. It wasn’t the traces of worry for the opponent on it that Riku found beautiful. It wasn’t just the irony of him knocking a man down and then worrying he got hurt that made Riku’s heart flutter. It was also his cute puppy eyes, the round nose that looked like a juicy jelly, and his lips that reminded Riku of the roses he sold in his flower shop. He got lost in Daeyoung’s face, a little whimper escaping his lips when Daeyoung looked his way. But it didn’t last long. Just a moment later, the referee’s countdown was over, and the opponent had failed to get up. The audience roared, even louder than before, at the sight of Daeyoung’s right hand raised high, the chunky glove catching the light.
"That's scary," Riku whispered, his voice trembling. Not with fear, but with a strange, electric thrill that coursed through his body, sending sparks through his limbs and stirring those fluttery things people always called butterflies. He got nasty ideas, thoughts he tried to shake out of his head. Sure, it had been a long time since he’d gotten laid, but that didn’t excuse the way he was feeling. Not for a goddamn boxer.
This was the first time Riku had ever watched boxing, but one thing was clear to him — Daeyoung had won.
“That’s my boy!” the man next to Riku shouted, pumping his fist, smiling from ear to ear.
“You know him?” Riku asked, hoping to get more information about Daeyoung.
“I’m his biggest fan. I saw this boy win the first tournament he ever entered, and ever since then, I swore I’d follow him until the day I die.”
Riku still wasn’t sure if the man might be Daeyoung’s uncle, maybe even his father or something. Maybe this was just the way people in the boxing world talked about their relatives.
But the man kept talking, and by the time Daeyoung was called out for his second match, the quarterfinals, it was clear he wasn’t related to him by blood.
“You see, I started boxing because of him, at the big age of forty-five. I quit smoking, cut down on drinking, and instead started going to the boxing gym he’s a part of. Not like a stalker fan, but as someone full of gratitude that this young stranger changed my life. And trust me,” he laughed, leaning toward Riku a bit more to lower his voice, “my wife is very grateful to Daeyoung as well.”
The idea that amateur boxing in shady underground venues could have a positive impact on people’s lives was not something Riku had ever imagined. Not that he had ever really thought about it, but even if he had, this wouldn't have been what came to mind.
And even now, he had no time to think it over, because the moment Daeyoung bent down and slipped under the ropes into the ring, the audience erupted. It wasn’t just the ahjussi next to him who was a fan, it seemed.
Riku prayed for one of two outcomes: either the match would last forever, so he could keep admiring Daeyoung’s god-given physique, or Daeyoung would simply win, so he could move on to the next round, and hopefully another one after that.
The first wish didn’t come true. This opponent, too, ended up kissing the canvas within a couple of minutes, Daeyoung hardly even breaking a sweat.
But the second wish came true, and about twenty minutes later, he was out again. This time, the match lasted longer. The opponent kept Daeyoung in a position where Riku could take in his face the whole time, and he did, devouring every glance, every shift in expression.
He let out a small scream when, for the first time that night, the opponent’s glove grazed Daeyoung’s face. But judging by the reaction of the man next to him, it wasn’t serious. If anything, it seemed to fuel Daeyoung even more.
What followed was a rapid-fire series of punches to the opponent’s ribs, Daeyoung’s footwork echoing through the venue like music. For the first time that night, the opponent lasted more than three minutes, meaning the first round was done.
Riku was sure he’d seen other boxers take a break in their corners, their coaches massaging their shoulders, shouting strategy for round two. But during those moments, he wasn’t watching. His eyes were glued to his phone, desperately trying to find any piece of information he could about Daeyoung.
He was turning into the uncle next to him. And he didn’t give a fuck.
This time, the phone stayed gripped tightly in Riku’s sweaty hand. His anxious posture straightened the moment he saw, for the first time that night, a woman approaching the ring.
She handed Daeyoung a bottle of water while he held his mouthguard in one hand. She pointed into the ring, her eyebrows drawn tight in frustration, as if she didn’t like what she was seeing. Her long hair was tied in a ponytail that whipped behind her as she moved. Just before the second round began, she tapped Daeyoung on the thigh, her movements sharp, urgent.
“He has a woman for a coach?” Riku asked, eyes still fixed on her.
“Yes,” the man beside him nodded, gripping the edge of his chair as the second round loomed. “She’s the owner of the gym he trains at. She basically created him. All the skills you’re seeing, every punch, kick, strike, she built from nothing. From dust. And she’ll make him win tonight, too. Just you watch.”
There wasn’t much to watch, though. As soon as the referee signaled the start of round two, the opponent collapsed under Daeyoung’s kick. He didn’t even stand up to leave the ring. It was his coach and the referee who dragged him away, while Daeyoung followed, bowing repeatedly in apology. After a final bow, held so low and for so long that he remained in the position until the opponent had vanished somewhere among the crowd, Daeyoung finally stood up. His right hand was raised by the referee in recognition of his win.
And this time, Riku felt like the win was for him.
In the earlier matches, Daeyoung had made sure to greet the entire audience, even the sections that had booed him. But not now. Not in the semi-finals. His eyes were fixed only on Riku. It was Riku who broke eye contact, shaking his head slightly, certain it wasn’t really him Daeyoung was looking at. He had his biggest fan sitting to Riku’s right, and a sea of voices cheering just behind them.
It wasn’t for him. It couldn’t have been.
It must have been the lack of oxygen in the cramped venue that made him hallucinate.
Yet what wasn’t a hallucination was the flower crown gracing Daeyoung’s head the moment the clock struck midnight. He had won, leaving even his final opponent defeated and curled over in pain.
The flower crown, carefully crafted by hand from baby’s breath, flowers that symbolized purity and innocence, had seemed like a hilarious contrast to the aggressive world of boxing. But somehow, it suited Daeyoung perfectly.
There were also a few pink nasturtium flowers woven in. They weren’t just a joke, not just a splash of pink for irony. They were a symbol of victory.
For the first time since he began making the crown, Riku felt glad that not all of it had been meant as a joke. He had created something meaningful. Something that, he hoped, Daeyoung would look at fondly if he ever placed it on a desk at home.
Before Riku knew it, he was lost in Daeyoung’s eyes again, but the gaze soon disappeared behind an ocean of people climbing into the boxing ring to celebrate with him. It was, after all, an amateur match, and there was no real security to stop them. Well, there was some, but they didn’t seem bothered. Maybe this was just how things were done. They probably all knew each other, and Riku was the only stranger.
He groaned in frustration when he realized the man next to him had also disappeared into the crowd. His only chance to learn more about Daeyoung was lost. At the very least, he wanted to find out when the next tournament would take place or anything else he could cling to.
He already knew the gym where Daeyoung trained. But did he really want to suddenly start boxing because of... a man? The thought alone made him feel disgusted, but the location was already marked on his phone’s map. At least he wasn’t a creep, duh.
The name of the gym was written right below Daeyoung’s on the list of participants, he didn’t even have to try.
I’m scared
Riku typed in KakaoTalk, getting an immediate response from Yushi.
What? Did some of those nasty guys attack you?
Nooooo
It’s worse
I think I fell in love
And I also don’t know how will I get home this late
Ew…
Call a taxi
Riku didn’t live far away, actually. That was one of the reasons he decided to spend a Friday night like this. Okay, so the list of reasons went like this: he designed the flower crown, he’d been single for way too long and needed some eye candy, he particularly liked that one boxer, and he lived close. That rationalized everything in his head. It made him feel less guilty, no matter how much his friends teased him about the whole adventure.
He did see hot guys… well, one. Sure, everyone was hot, but his eyes somehow only saw that one guy. The way his feet danced across the canvas still created a rhythm in Riku’s mind. The way his punches echoed still startled him, even as he walked out of the now almost empty venue. It was empty, and suddenly he was able to breathe again.
Almost an hour passed as he sat lost in his thoughts, reminiscing about an amateur boxer who had won something far tougher than a tournament — his heart. He stayed there, thinking, imagining, arguing with himself over whether this was shameful or normal.
But what startled him even more than the memory of Daeyoung’s strength was the flower crown he had made, resting on the floor, peeking out from beneath one of the last-row seats. His heart broke, not only because his efforts had found no better fate, which he had expected from boxers. They couldn’t appreciate delicate things like flowers, beauty, and symbolism.
It didn’t surprise him, but it hurt more than he thought it would.
Maybe, after all, Daeyoung was just like all of them. Despite the softness in his face, the sweetness in his voice, the kindness in his eyes… maybe he was no more than just a tough boxer.
With the flower crown slipping from his fingers, he walked toward the parking lot where he had ordered a taxi. He sniffed, blaming it on the cold night and not on the fact that he was crying. Crying because of an irrational heartbreak caused by a guy he had never even met was a new low. Riku had a history of hopeless romanticism and the misery it brought, he had a history of shame and embarrassment for chasing love, and yet somehow, at that very moment, he had reached rock bottom. Maybe he should just go back to the same old dating apps and keep kissing frogs until the prince finally appeared. Because even that seemed way less embarrassing than whatever had happened tonight. Riku was slowly losing hope in romance, and, the those dramatic moments, it seemed to him like a fleeting moment with a boxer was the final nail in the coffin.
His red nose finally lifted when he felt a sudden tug around his wrist, the flower crown nearly slipping from his hand. For a moment, he thought he’d lost his mind, that his hallucinations had somehow become three-dimensional.
It was him. The boxer. Daeyoung.
“I’m sorry,” Daeyoung said, bowing repeatedly just like he had to the opponent he knocked down earlier. “I saw you have something that belonged to me. My friends took it away while we were celebrating, and I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
Riku whimpered, audibly whimpered, with his mouth hanging open, staring in disbelief.
The boy wrapped in a thick hoodie, a full backpack strapped to his back, continued, “I know it’s pretty and you probably want to keep it, but it would really mean a lot to me if you could give it back. I know it’s not fair, but—”
“But it is fair,” Riku finally said, clearing his throat and wiping his frozen nose. “You won it. It’s yours. I just thought a boxer wouldn’t care about a stupid flower crown.”
“It’s not stupid,” Daeyoung smiled, and the warmth in that smile melted away everything frozen inside Riku’s petite body. “It’s the most beautiful trophy I’ve won yet. I regret that it’s made of real flowers because they will rot, but that’s exactly what makes it special. I fought for this crown.”
Without a word, Riku extended his hand, the crown hanging between them like a fragile thread, like an invisible border that had to be crossed.
“May I, really?” Daeyoung asked, his voice barely above a whisper, a striking contrast to the mighty punches and kicks he had unleashed to win it.
Riku nodded, smiling. Maybe this one was different after all. Maybe all the loud voices in his head evaporated like a puddle on a hot day. Maybe his efforts would finally find a home.
“I’m Daeyoung, by the way.”
The introduction was like an exchange for the flower crown, and it was all Riku needed.
“I know,” he replied without shame. “I watched you win it. I heard the audience scream your name like you were Beyoncé.”
The last thing Riku expected from a boxer was to hear him laugh with his whole heart — throwing his head back, covering his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as the soft giggles filled the space between them.
Riku hadn’t even said anything particularly funny, but somehow, the reaction made him feel like he mattered.
As the laughter died down, a question about Riku’s own name took its place.
“I’m Riku,” he said, “I’m the florist who made the crown.” He needed to make himself memorable, to stand out from the crowd that had congratulated Daeyoung earlier. “Congratulations. It’s yours. You earned it.”
The crown slipped from his hand into Daeyoung’s, their fingers brushing. Nothing from tonight had gone as expected, but the most surprising thing was that the hands of someone who had knocked down a series of opponents felt so gentle, so soft, like they melted into his.
His heart skipped a beat, his breath hitched, and he didn’t care if it was obvious.
“And I was wondering what a new face was doing in the audience,” Daeyoung smiled, satisfied at finally having his question answered. “Turns out it’s for a noble reason. I guess your art is a reflection of you... beautiful, gentle, and dedicated. Thank you for taking the time. I know this isn’t the nicest place to spend your evening.”
“I like trying new things, and I had more fun than I expected,” Riku managed to create a believable lie as his brain was throwing a celebratory firework as he spoke. Maybe he hadn’t imagined all the stares Daeyoung had cast his way from the boxing ring. Maybe, just maybe, he really had been looking at him, and not the people around him. But, after all, it might not be fully a lie. However, the fun he had wasn’t about the sport, the venue, or the event — it was all about Daeyoung.
“So, you liked it?” Daeyoung’s face lit up in a way Riku couldn’t quite place.
Liked it would be an exaggeration, really. It was more like he had managed to make it through the night, and only thanks to... well, him.
“Maybe this sport isn’t that boring after all.” He lied again, shamelessly.
Daeyoung’s smile faded, replaced by a deeper, more thoughtful expression. “This sport changed my life. It saved me. Would you like to learn it?”
“You think I need saving?” Riku tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “I’m tougher than I look. That’s what getting stung by a rose thorn every day does to a person.”
“I’m sure you are,” the tall, handsome boy said before swallowing nervously, somehow looking more anxious than he did during the matches, and it was visible despite the shadows of the hoodie covering his face. “I just... I thought I should pay you back for making such a beautiful gift for me. Boxing is all I’m good at right now. I could give you a free lesson. If you hate it, you never have to do it again.”
All the cold on his skin vanished, replaced by a sudden flush of heat across his face. He felt busted, like Daeyoung had read his mind and knew the location of the boxing gym was already marked on his map. Worse even, it was barely a five-minute walk from his flower shop.
“I was paid for it. It’s not your job to pay me back, it’s the organizers’.”
And that was the first time Riku ever messed up potential flirting. So many firsts tonight, but this one made the strong champion stutter, almost disappearing into shame right in front of him, wishing the streetlamp above would collapse and wipe him off the earth.
Riku regretted it, but he also found it adorable. The smile on his face grew, almost hinting at a smirk.
“Maybe I’m just scared of you,” Riku blushed, his eyes wandering around the empty street, suddenly unable to meet the boxer's, “You knocked all those scary guys down with no effort. I can’t even imagine what you’d do to someone with zero experience like me.”
It wasn’t a confession. It was a fantasy.
“The good thing is, we’re not gonna fight. There’s this great thing called a punching bag, it’s amazing for releasing stress, too.”
Maybe Daeyoung missed the memo this time, but it was heading in the direction Riku wanted. He offered a handshake, his smile glowing in the night. “Deal. I’ll take you up on that free boxing lesson. Time and place? Actually, just time. I know the place.”
In contrast to his light giggle, the handshake was exactly as strong as Riku expected, though he still felt it wasn’t even half the strength Daeyoung truly possessed.
“Surprise me. I’m at the gym every evening from 7 p.m. until closing time.”
The surprise came in less than 24 hours, because at 7 p.m. sharp the next day, Riku found himself staring at the punching bag, his hands sweating inside the heavy gloves.
“I’ll make you fall in love with the sport,” Daeyoung promised, holding the punching bag steady for Riku to strike.
“Oh, I’m sure.” Riku punched the bag as hard as he could. “I might really fall in love.”
One punch was enough, and his hand slipped past the punching bag to rest over Daeyoung’s, their cheeks pressed against the leather on opposite sides, but their gazes melted into one.
The 25 kilograms of the leather and foam between them pulsed in time with their hearts. Not from the cardio, since they had only just started.
This was only Round 1.