It was going to take me a while to adjust to his name. Lee Daejung. It was different from what I had expected but what did I expect? I had been calling him after a flower this whole time.

Daejung. Lee Daejung. I couldn’t quite get the hang of it.

“Your turn,” Iris—Daejung said. He tilted his head slightly to the side, smiling softly. I stared at him, wondering if I should tell him my name. It shouldn’t matter whether we knew each other’s names or not—we had already been through that. But the moment his name, his real name, had left his mouth, it felt like I was speaking to a different person. I felt like the Iris that had taken me in, the Iris that I had adored and loved was gone, almost as if he hadn’t existed at all. All that was left was Lee Daejung, the person Iris was behind all those masks and personalities.

“My turn,” I mumbled quietly, sighing. “Does it really matter if I say my name?”

“Of course it matters,” Daejung said, continuing to stare at me. “This is the start of a new chapter in our story.”

“Our story?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. “Plus, it’s not fair that now you know more about me than I do you.”

I saw no point in telling him my name. There was nothing wrong with it—I found it pointless, that was all. But he was practically begging me at this point, and one of the things I’ve learned during the past moments I had been with him was that I could never say no to him.

“Jangmi,” I said quietly. “Son Jangmi.”

“That’s nothing close to a daisy,” he snorted.

“I know.”

Daejung urned his body to face me, still hugging his legs. He held out his right hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Son Jangmi,” he said. Almost instantly, I took his hand into mine. For a moment, a look of shock took over before being replaced with his smile once again.

“Likewise,” I said. Before he could pull away, I squeezed his hand. He stared at my hand with an unreadable expression—however at that moment, whether or not I could read his expressions didn’t matter.

I was holding Lee Daejung’s hand.

“You’re hands are so cold,” I mumbled, loosening my grip on his hand.

“Well, I have been sitting out here all day,” he said. “I didn’t notice until you pointed it out, actually.” We were quiet once again, probably because neither of us knew what to say. I’ll admit, it was an awkward situation for both of us to be in, but we both refused to move. His hands are so cold.

Slowly, as the time passed by, I could feel the cold wearing off and being replaced by the warmth of my hand. I couldn’t tell if he had noticed that as well—his attention had been turned towards something else. I looked up from our hands and to where he was looking.

It was the flowers, the one’s that disappeared in the rain.