No Place Like Home
Title: No Place Like Home
Pairing(s): HanChul
Genre(s): Romance
Length: 5451 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After being sent to the countryside, all Heechul wanted was some sensible company.
Inspiration(s): I was thinking a lot about Heidi when I wrote this.
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1.
On a sunny Friday morning, Heechul was sent to the countryside for a family reunion. Or at least that was what he was told. He knew deep down that he was only forced to use that one-way ticket to the middle of nowhere for the next few months because his parents did not want him sabotaging his half-brother’s marriage. The redhead found it ironic, really; there was really no point in sabotaging Zhou Mi’s arranged marriage. Sure, Victoria was the perfect girl. There was no doubt about her absolute flawlessness with her intelligent personality and natural beauty, but there was the problem that she was already seeing somebody and that Zhou Mi was as straight as an extra-curvy circle. This “marriage”, Heechul thought to himself with a self-possessed smirk, would only be sabotaged if both parties actually went through with it.
Heechul did not hate the countryside, per se. He was just annoyed that there were no designer stores, no nice air-conditioned hair salons, and no sign of a well-dressed being within a five-hundred mile radius. It also bothered him that his cousins lived on a real farm with real hay and real farm animals in real manure stench.
There was Kangin, the head of the household, who was pretty much in charge of anything remotely masculine (otherwise known as lifting heavy things around the ranch); Ryeowook, the little brother, who was in charge of anything remotely feminine (otherwise known as everything else Kangin didn’t do); and Kibum, they youngest and the only one who seemed to have something remotely akin to street smarts.
Kangin insisted that everything was to be done the old-fashioned way just as his father (and grandfather and great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather) instructed him to do. The family ate anything they found in their garden (literally), made flour from wheat scathed from the nearby fields, and even milked cows! Christ, Heechul thought as he mentally threw his hands up in the air, have you guys ever thought of store-bought produce?
All this explained his foul mood the day he arrived on their front porch, in desperate need of a shower and three bottles of Febreze.
He impatiently rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, and scowled when Kibum answered. “Hey cousin,” he greeted grumpily. “Can I use the shower?”
“The hose is at the back,” Kibum rolled his mischievous eyes.
“Asshole,” the redhead swore as he pushed him and his two large luggage bags in.
Ryeowook came out from the kitchen with a frying pan and his face broke into a surprised smile when he spotted the newcomer. “Heenim! I didn’t expect you!”
“No one does.”
“Well, I just made some apple pie. If you’re hungry, you can help yourself to a piece! Oh, let me get Kangin to carry up your bags.” Ryeowook babbled on, fidgeting as he attempted to simultaneously cook his eggs, dust the windowsills, and straighten out the picture frames. “Goodness, if only you had given us a few days’ notice! The place is not usually this unkempt! I guess you’re going to have to sleep in the attic until we get the guest room less cluttered. I’ll get the neighbors to help with that if it gets too much, and I’ll also have to-”
Kibum led Heechul into the kitchen and the redhead sat down, wincing as the wooden chair creaked noisily underneath his weight. “So, what’s new?” he asked.
“We got a new tractor last week.”
Heechul yawned theatrically. “How fascinating.”
“Kangin got a boyfriend,” Kibum shrugged. “Which is good because there are less temper tantrums now.”
“How could any guy stand him?”
“The same way any guy could stand you.”
Heechul raised an eyebrow. “Point taken. Anything else?”
“This and that. New neighbors and whatnot. Overall, nothing has changed too much since you’ve last came here. We’re still in the same routine.”
“Which means that I’ll be just as miserable here as I was last time,” Heechul sighed. “Joy.”
2.
Heechul spent his first day lying in his single bed listening to his iPod until it ran out of battery that evening. He was absolutely flabbergasted to discover that there still were no outlets installed around the house despite the fact that they had been all the rage for at least a decade. “Why would you have a tractor and not a freaking outlet?” he had complained. “Even the Flintstones are less technologically challenged than you people!”
Kangin had frowned. Kibum just laughed quietly behind his hand.
The second day, he had been bent on staying in his room and staring at the ceiling, but boredom ushered him out the door. “What do you people do in a dump like this?”
“We work for our wellbeing,” Kangin answered gruffly, handing him a broom. “And I suggest that you do the same starting today.”
Heechul looked at the broom like it was infected with lice. “You can’t be serious.”
“He’s dead serious,” Ryeowook called from the kitchen.
“Fuck,” the redhead conceded, snatching the straw-tailed handle. “Enjoy the view while you still can, asshole. You’re never going to see me sweep the floors after today.” He ended up being on floor sweeping duty for the next two weeks.
Life in the countryside was simple. You had a routine, chores that you had to complete, mundane tasks you have to carry out. Heechul hated it, and by the third week of his stay he was almost drowning from all the naturalness around him. Either that, or the smell of horse crap was making his head spin. “Is there anything else you people do besides chores?” he asked Kibum one afternoon as he was sweeping the living room floor.
The younger man was bent over the dining table, a blank sheet of paper in front of him. He twirled his pen in his right hand. “Nope.”
“What are you doing?” the city boy asked, desperate for some sensible conversation.
“Thinking.”
“Great answer, Snow White. Mirror, mirror on the wall, can you be more specific?”
“I’m writing a short story,” Kibum replied in an eye-rolling voice. “Trying to get over this nasty bout of writer’s block.”
“What’s your story about?”
“About a city girl and a country boy.”
Heechul leaned on his broom and gave his cousin the most unimpressed expression he could muster. “Let me guess, City Girl meets Country Boy, Country Boy likes City Girl, bam, they fall in love and have a happily ever after?”
“That was Plan A,” Kibum admitted. “Plan B was going to be this whole action sequence where the city girl’s father was killed by the country boy’s uncle and she was plotting revenge before realizing that the country boy was actually the boy who saved her life many years ago when-”
“Just stick to Plan A,” the redhead cut his cousin off with an impatient flick of his wrist. “At least giggly teenage girls will buy your story that way.”
“I’m actually wanting to publish it in the news article that releases an issue everything month.”
“Do you think I care?”
“No, but you want some sensible conversation.”
Heechul was usually irritated with Kibum’s mind-reading abilities. “Asshole,” he cursed as he swept the floor with vengeance.
At the sight of his cousin’s scowling face, Kibum relented. “I’m meeting up with Donghae and Siwon at the market later. If you want, you can come along.”
“Finally! That wasn’t too hard, now, was it?”
3.
“This might be a dumb question, but why doesn’t this place sell anything other than fruits and vegetables and cows?” Heechul was pretty much fed up with all this countryside shit. He felt like he was in the eighteenth-century, back when everything smelled like horse manure, which was not good because he was a modern man, dammit.
Donghae tilted his head to the side, a quizzical expression on his face. “It’s a farmer’s market?”
“Do you have markets like these where you come from?” Siwon asked conversationally, a kind smile on his perfectly sculpted face. Heechul was not going to lie, Kibum made really attractive friends (but not as attractive as his truly, of course).
“We have markets,” the redhead grumbled. “But they are indoors, more spacious, have a lot more air-conditioning, and are called shopping malls.”
“I’ve never been to a mall before,” Donghae chirped in, eyes widening in childish curiosity. “What are they like?”
Heechul looked at the boy and blinked several times. “There’s something wrong with this situation.”
“Most people who are born here choose not to leave,” Kibum explained with a roll of his eyes. “It’s much simpler just to stay and continue life as before.”
“Well, aren’t I lucky not to have been born here, huh?” Heechul retorted a bit too loudly, attracting several dirty glances from the town’s natives.
Kibum snickered. “I think we’re the lucky ones not to have you around.”
“Asshole.”
“Hey, look, it’s the Chinese guy!” Donghae pointed excitedly.
“Don’t point, it’s rude,” Siwon chastised, immediately smacking the younger’s arm down.
Heechul looked to where Donghae had originally been pointing and his eyebrows shot upwards so fast that Siwon would have been impressed if he had been paying attention. Heechul seldom called anybody good-looking and never considered it possible to carry half of his own blinding attractiveness, but goddamn if there was anything close to his minimum standards of absolute gorgeousness, it was standing right there a few meters off brushing a black horse’s mane.
He spun around and punched his idiot cousin in the shoulder, relishing the ouch what was that for? that he totally deserved. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”
“About what?” Kibum scowled, rubbing his arm.
“That!” Heechul pointed at the new guy with everything he had except his pointer finger, mindful of Siwon’s reproving stare. “You didn’t tell me that there were hot guys around here! Man, I could have spent my time cruising instead of waving a broom around the house like Pre-princess Cinderella.”
“Well, I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure if you were into stable boys.”
“I’m not,” Heechul admitted sharply. “I’m into sexiness on a pair of long legs.”
Kibum scrutinized Mr. Sexiness On A Pair Of Long Legs and scoffed. “Well, tough luck, you can look at him all you want, but Chinese Guy is not exactly known for being the most talkative rooster in the flock.”
“Asshole.” Heechul hated Kibum’s farm animal analogies and his cousin knew it.
“It’s true,” Siwon agreed softly. “He lived here all his life and still has not spoken as much as three words. At least not since his mother died several years ago. You’d be lucky to get a syllable out of him.”
“Can you imagine?” Donghae further widened his eyes. “Hundreds of days without saying anything! I would have to bind my mouth shut for me to last that long.”
“Why don’t you go do that right about now?” Heechul snapped at Goldfish-Eyed Donghae.
“Seriously, Heechul,” Siwon consoled. “You can talk to him if you want, but don’t expect any reply. There have been people who have talked to him for years and the most they have gotten out of him are four-worded sentences. He still only gives me one-worded replies and I see him basically every day.”
The redhead took one last look at the mysterious Chinaman and then spun on his heel. “Fine, I get it. Bring me to the nearest clothing store, stat.”
4.
Heechul soon learned that the easiest way to duck out of an afternoon of menial floor-sweeping was to get his nonexistent ass out of the door and avoid the ever-so-in-love-and-therefore-not-as-bipolar Kangin. Worked like a charm. Except for the fact that besides sitting in a (horse manure scented) field while watching the farm scenery, there was absolutely nothing to do. God, why was the countryside so boring and every synonym found in the thesaurus under the word boring?
So he started walking around, wishing that there was some sensible company other than his asshole excuse of a cousin. His thoughts automatically gravitated towards Zhou Mi, the very reason why he was in the middle of nowhere in the first place. If he had counted correctly, he and Victoria were to be married in exactly thirty-three days, and the redhead snorted at the idea. His half-brother was gay, and what’s more stereotypically gay, and he did a horrible job at hiding it (Heechul could feel his gay vibes from miles and miles away). Of course, Zhou Mi was mildly hurt at the fact that Victoria was already seeing Nickhun at the time of the arrangement, but who was he to judge with his blatant crush on his father’s rival business partner’s son. Heechul smiled. It would be a sham marriage, but at least the two got along. They got along really well, actually. So well that if Zhou Mi was not so transparently homosexual, they unquestionably had the chance of being nominated for Cutest Couple of the Year.
Soon enough, another farm came into view. It was relatively small and did not take up too much land, with a stable, a small plot of wheat, a vegetable garden, and a simple wooden fence encircling a flock of hens. Heechul’s mind started wondering again, this time to his life back home in the city. People here were serious die-hard DYI-ers, a stark contrast to those back in Seoul where almost everything was automatic or quasi-automatic. It was exasperatingly disconcerting.
His shoulder suddenly felt wet. “Asshole!” he cursed to the sky as fat droplets of horse-manure-scented water came plopping down onto his expensive clothing. Picking up the pace, he sprinted towards the barn and pulled on the front door, which he found was locked. Cursing, he tried the stable next and almost decided against it when the smell of horse manure came running up his nose like an ADHD-inflicted three-year-old high on Coca Cola.
Oh, what he would do for his expensive clothing!
The minute he closed the door behind him, he heard a rifle cock into position. And Heechul, in his blind panic, made the most unwise decision and started to scream at the top of his lungs, arms flailing wildly in impractical self-defense.
And promptly fainted in mid-scream at the sight of a pair of dark eyes.
He woke up several hours (minutes? weeks? months?) later to the sound of clucking on a pile of hay that smelled like horse saliva. He sat up, wincing at his sore neck, and got his eyes adjusted to the light before checking out his surroundings. He had been resting under a sunray, which totally pissed him off because pale skin did not like having too much ultraviolet exposure, and he was apparently swimming with the chickens. All five of them. Joy.
He heaved himself onto his feet and shuffled through the small flock of cackling birds, grimacing when one of them totally freaked out at his feet in indignant annoyance. “Shut your beak, boy,” the redhead ordered in irritation. Soft laughter was heard from the shadows where the sun was unable to reach, and he scowled. “You too, stranger!”
The stranger came into view with a glass of milk and a piece of bread, and Heechul recognized him immediately.
“Hey, you’re the Chinese guy,” he exclaimed, gratefully accepting the normal-looking food. He took a gulp of the milk and almost instantly spit it out again at its sourness. “Holy shit, is this stuff expired or something?”
The Chinaman shook his head, half amused half annoyed. He tilted his head towards the field, where a large cow was grazing.
Heechul looked scandalized. “That’s so disgusting! I just drank milk from a cow’s bladder! God, is this bread fresh from the field, too? Gross.”
Mr. Sexiness On A Pair Of Long Legs rolled his eyes and took back the glass, downing it in a single gulp. He also took back the bread and placed it on a nearby table.
“Is that what you eat around here every day?”
The taller man nodded, his gaze clear and steady.
Heechul made a face. “I don’t know how you countrymen do it, because that is just revolting. Back in the city, we eat real food.” And by real, Heechul meant processed and nutrient-extracted and filled with manmade chemicals. The redhead raised his eyebrows. “What’s your name?”
“Han Geng,” he replied, barely audible over the sound of clucking chickens.
“I’m Heechul. People around here tell me that you don’t talk much.”
Han Geng shrugged.
“Live alone?”
The Chinaman nodded.
“No immediate family? No relatives outside this place?”
He shook his head.
“So you run this place all by yourself?”
He nodded.
Heechul smiled, amused and impressed. “Wow, you really don’t talk much.”
And that was when he knew that he had found some sensible company.
5.
It became a tacit routine for Heechul to show up unannounced on Han Geng’s farm every day. After all, the Chinese man never said that he couldn’t-he never said anything, really, just a few nods and grunts here and there. He also made him things to eat whenever he came over, and eventually Heechul got used to the sourness of fresh milk and the dryness of fresh homemade bread. Plus, the visits got him out of Cinderella duty and out of Kangin’s sight, which was more than enough reason.
“I come from the rich side of Seoul,” Heechul described one sunny afternoon as his silent companion worked around the barn area. “My parents own a huge company and my dad makes millions. But even without money, it’s a really cool place. Lots of buildings and shopping malls. I love it there so much better than here; at least it never smells like horse manure. If I had a choice, I would definitely go back in a heartbeat, but my parents are practically forcing me to stay here. At least until my half-brother gets married, which is totally ridiculous, if you put it in my perspective. It really shocks me that they haven’t realized that Zhou Mi is the worst closeted gay man on the face of the planet. Even Yesung figured out he was gay, and Yesung never figures out anything! He and Victoria make a really good-looking couple though. It would amuse me if they actually go through with it. God, I should really write a letter or something-”
Han Geng was raking the hay the whole time Heechul was complaining about the lack of wireless internet, but it was clear that he was at least half-listening, always smiling at the right places.
“You know what really surprises me? That people actually like being in the countryside. No offence, but there’s not that much to do here except sweep the floor and, well, rake the hay. It smells like shit all the damn time, it’s boring as hell when you have no technology, you can totally kill your complexion when working outside too long, and you eat stuff practically raw. Why do people deliberately decide to live in the middle of nowhere?
The Chinese man had somehow appeared right in front of the city boy during his whole spiel, and without hesitation started dragging him outside by the forearm. He pointed towards the ground, to the wheat field, to the sky in one graceful motion, and looked at Heechul as if waiting for some understanding to fall upon him.
Heechul the Clueless City Rat was never great at reading body language.
After realizing that his life lesson was not working, Han Geng then took the redhead’s hand and led him towards the stables. Heechul tried not to notice how tan and calloused his hands were against his own pale manicured ones. In one of the stalls was a midnight black horse, the one that Heechul had seen earlier at the market. “Her name is Perfection,” he explained as he opened the stall and coaxed his horse out.
Heechul watched in amazement as Han Geng saddled her in record time. The grand creature merely stood there, totally trusting and docile, and Heechul almost laughed at how Perfection’s tail wagged like a Labrador. Once the preparations were done, Han Geng led her out of the stables and into the open. She whinnied and her owner grinned widely. Han Geng then motioned Heechul to come closer, and the moment the redhead was near enough, the Chinaman had already picked him up and plopped him on Perfection’s back.
“Holy shit!” Heechul screamed, grabbing his companion’s shoulder for balance. “What are you doing? I have never in my life ridden a horse before! I haven’t even been on a carousel! Get me off right now!”
Han Geng rolled his eyes and ignored his confidante’s protests, placing a helmet onto Heechul’s head. Silently, he instructed him to hold onto the horse’s mane. “Just trust Perfection,” he whispered, and with that, Heechul found himself screaming and fighting for balance as Perfection galloped towards the hills. The scenery was a blur to his eyes, a watercolor of green and gold and baby blue. Wind kicked at his face and he squeezed his eyes shut. After several minutes, Perfection finally slowed to a comfortable trot, and Heechul was able to lift his head a little bit. He saw the green pasture, the golden wheat field, the baby blue sky, and even he could not lie that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.
By the time the black horse brought him back to Han Geng, he was breathless and in dire need of a hairbrush. “I am never doing that again!” he yelled the moment the Chinaman helped him off Perfection’s back, hastily taking off the helmet and fixing his hair. “I could have broken my neck! Do you know how much my life costs me? Christ, what were you thinking? Ugh, you even got my clothes smelling like horse! You’re paying for my dry cleaning bills!”
He was smiling through his rant, though, and Han Geng smiled back, ten times wider.
They spent the rest of the afternoon lying under the sun staring up at the sky.
“When I get out of here, I’ll go back home and use my savings to go travelling. I want to go to Europe, see the old buildings that everybody raves about. I want to go shopping in America, see what the Americans wear, try things on and see if the people there are really as fat as all the commercials make them out to be. What about you? Any travelling in your imminent future?”
Han Geng shook his head and continued to find imaginary shapes in the clouds.
“Lame,” Heechul grimaced. “Have you even been outside of this town?”
Again, he shook his head.
“Holy shit. Don’t you ever get bored around here?”
The Chinaman gave a one-shouldered shrug.
“Then why don’t you leave? At least for a little while, like a mini vacation?”
Han Geng sat up and rested on his elbows. “I have to stay.”
“Bullshit, people never have to do anything. Nobody’s forcing you to be here, so you have every reason to leave.”
“Then who will take care of Perfection? And what about my farm? I have a responsibility here to my parents and to myself. This is my home and I’m here to take care of it.”
Heechul was not sure if he should have been more surprised at Han Geng’s answer or at Han Geng’s answer. “Man, that’s the most you have ever said to me. You spoke more words that you have spoken the whole two weeks I’ve met you. It’s a shame, really, how you don’t talk as much as you should.”
Han Geng raised his eyebrows. And smiled softly, eyes turning into dark crescent moons. “I never find any need to talk with people.”
The redhead laughed, unable to admit aloud that he was glad that he was an exception.
6.
The day Kangin told him that his parents were ready for his return anytime he was packed and ready to leave was a peculiar one.
“They seemed really annoyed,” he laughed. “Your father, especially.”
“My father’s always annoyed,” Heechul had replied, rolling his eyes, thinking back to the time his dad had pretty much freaked out on a waiter when he brought in diced chicken instead of sliced.
The city rat should have been absolutely thrilled. He hated the countryside, where there were no outlets, no technological texting devices, no cellphone signals, and no real (processed) food. But instead of throwing confetti all over the place, he found himself staying silent, a quizzical expression on his face.
“When do they want me back?” he asked softly.
“By tomorrow is what your mother said.”
Heechul was out the door before Kangin could finish his sentence.
He sprinted down the path that he knew by heart and only slowed his pace when a familiar figure working in the wheat field came into view. “Han Geng!” he hollered, making his way up to the farmer without caring that there was a high chance that he may catch lime disease if he stayed in the pasture of tall golden cornrows too long.
Han Geng turned around and looked at the redhead in soundless surprise, brow wet with sweat.
“Thank god I found you here,” Heechul sighed in relief. “I really need to speak with you. About us. Don’t tell me you don’t feel all the things that I feel for you, because I know you do.”
The Chinaman’s eyes lowered and Heechul congratulated himself for guessing correctly.
“My parents want me back by tomorrow.”
Han Geng nodded. “You must be happy. You’ve been looking forward to returning home.”
The redhead pursed his lips.
“So this is goodbye?”
“No.” Heechul raised his chin. “I want you to come back with me. I know that this is your home, and I know that you worry about Perfection, but there’s a world out there, Han Geng! A world that you will never see if you just stay here!” He huffed. “You can come live with me. We’ll travel the world together and have so many adventures!”
“I can’t leave.”
“Why not?”
“Because, like I said, this is my home. This is where I was born and raised and where I intend to stay. I have known Perfection for more than half my life, seen her grow from a young colt to the beauty that she is now.” Han Geng’s eyes turned sad, and he reached for Heechul’s hands and held them tightly in his own. “I would love to be with you, Heechul. But I am a farmer. I don’t live in cities.”
“So you’re saying that you won’t come back with me?”
“I’m sorry.”
Heechul bit his bottom lip and exhaled sharply. “Fine, I’ll stay here.”
“I won’t let you do that.”
“Yes, you will. Han Geng, I felt more at home here in the three weeks I spent with you than I have been my whole life.”
Han Geng shook his head, unbelieving. “I’m a countryman, Heechul; it’s written in my blood. You’re a city boy. You belong in the city with your family and your shopping malls and your technology. I won’t be able to make you happy if you stay. You like change and motion and travelling, while my life is static and will be static until I die. I wouldn’t want to strip you of your happiness just to be with me. It’s too great a sacrifice.”
“Well, too bad, because you’re going to have to teach me to milk a cow, because I w-!”
“Heechul, I don’t want you to stay here,” the taller man deadpanned, cutting off his companion with a sternness that had never emerged before.
The redhead’s expression hardened and he dropped his arms. “You don’t mean that. I don’t believe for a second that you really mean that.”
Han Geng lowered his gaze and turned his back. “Go home, Heechul.”
With pissed off tears in his eyes, Heechul left without another word. He arrived back in Seoul that night and slept in his Queen-sized bed dreaming that he was back on Han Geng’s farm, surrounded by chickens while sleeping on soft hay.
7.
Zhou Mi and Victoria’s wedding was cancelled when it became clear that they had underwent a double elopement with their so-called true loves. And though Heechul had nothing to do with it his parents were still angry with him, which was a mystery within itself.
“So how was your stay with your cousins?” his mother asked curtly as they sat in their elaborate dining table, a glass chandelier hanging above their heads. Heechul had never thought he would ever see his house as overly extravagant, but there he was, wishing that the chandelier would just disappear because it was making him extremely nervous for some strange reason.
“Fine.”
“Did you have any fun on the outskirts? Breathe in fresh air?”
“Mm hm.”
“What did you do?”
“Went to a market. Hung out around the house.” A pause. “Rode a horse.”
“That sounds interesting. What’s it like?”
Heechul thought about the wind blowing at his face, about the way he lifted his head and saw everything in full color, about how Han Geng was smiling when Perfection brought him back. “It was okay,” he answered eventually, picking up the glass of milk and taking a sip. He grimaced at the lack of sourness.
“Anything wrong with your drink, dear? Should I get the maid to get another glass?”
“No, mother.”
He left the table without finishing his dinner and feeling a lot less full than he would have liked.
And exactly three hours later, he had his bags packed and he resolutely marched out the door.
8.
Heechul took a deep breath and brought his hand up to the door, only to drop it back down to his side when the nerves kicked in. It had been a year since he had been back, and nothing had drastically changed. He expected as much. Countrymen hardly liked change unless it had something to do with the seasons.
Physically, Heechul hardly changed. He still had his fiery red hair and flawless skin, the same pointy nose and thin frame, and great fashion sense. He was still considerably attractive, and never lost that quick wit that he was notorious for. But he did change, and significantly.
An almost inaudible grunt from behind made Heechul spin around in surprise, and he blinked several times. Han Geng was almost the same as how he had remembered him. A bit older, of course, with a few more wrinkles above his brow and prominent circles around his forever-dark eyes. But it was definitely still Han Geng. “Hey,” the redhead greeted lamely, a nervous smile on his face.
Han Geng’s lips twitched but otherwise he held still.
“Still soft-spoken, I see,” Heechul joked weakly. “How is life?”
The Chinaman shrugged, blinking.
“After I left last time, I went travelling for a while. I went to Europe and took pictures of the old buildings, just like I said I would. Just returned back to Seoul a day ago to attend my half-brother’s wedding. To Kyuhyun, not to Victoria. Last time I heard, she’s married with a kid now. Well, I was around town so I just wanted to see how you were doing.” Heechul smiled. “It’s just as I remembered it.”
Han Geng offered a small half-smile.
“Every day, I thought about sour milk and wheat fields and horse manure.” Heechul laughed faintly and took a deep shaky breath, heart pounding behind his ribcage. “It’s really great to be back. I missed this, you know. I missed you.”
And then he was enveloped in a pair of strong arms and brought in for a kiss that sucked all energy out of him. “I’m so glad,” the voice that Heechul had missed so much breathed into his ear.
City rat or not, for the first time in over a year, Heechul felt like he had finally returned home.
9.
Kibum’s novel about a city girl and a country boy sold millions around the world. Critics praised it as “a clichéd story worth retelling” and “the most personal endeavor ever attempted by an amateur writer”. A fan wrote to him several weeks after the publication and mentioned in her letter that the book felt so real that she had started to wonder if it was really a true story.
“But of course it was,” Kibum wrote back, eyes travelling towards the redhead laughing as he sped around the hills on a bareback midnight black horse, a tall Chinaman watching from a distance off. “I was there to witness the whole thing.”
Pairing(s): HanChul
Genre(s): Romance
Length: 5451 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After being sent to the countryside, all Heechul wanted was some sensible company.
Inspiration(s): I was thinking a lot about Heidi when I wrote this.
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1.
On a sunny Friday morning, Heechul was sent to the countryside for a family reunion. Or at least that was what he was told. He knew deep down that he was only forced to use that one-way ticket to the middle of nowhere for the next few months because his parents did not want him sabotaging his half-brother’s marriage. The redhead found it ironic, really; there was really no point in sabotaging Zhou Mi’s arranged marriage. Sure, Victoria was the perfect girl. There was no doubt about her absolute flawlessness with her intelligent personality and natural beauty, but there was the problem that she was already seeing somebody and that Zhou Mi was as straight as an extra-curvy circle. This “marriage”, Heechul thought to himself with a self-possessed smirk, would only be sabotaged if both parties actually went through with it.
Heechul did not hate the countryside, per se. He was just annoyed that there were no designer stores, no nice air-conditioned hair salons, and no sign of a well-dressed being within a five-hundred mile radius. It also bothered him that his cousins lived on a real farm with real hay and real farm animals in real manure stench.
There was Kangin, the head of the household, who was pretty much in charge of anything remotely masculine (otherwise known as lifting heavy things around the ranch); Ryeowook, the little brother, who was in charge of anything remotely feminine (otherwise known as everything else Kangin didn’t do); and Kibum, they youngest and the only one who seemed to have something remotely akin to street smarts.
Kangin insisted that everything was to be done the old-fashioned way just as his father (and grandfather and great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather) instructed him to do. The family ate anything they found in their garden (literally), made flour from wheat scathed from the nearby fields, and even milked cows! Christ, Heechul thought as he mentally threw his hands up in the air, have you guys ever thought of store-bought produce?
All this explained his foul mood the day he arrived on their front porch, in desperate need of a shower and three bottles of Febreze.
He impatiently rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, and scowled when Kibum answered. “Hey cousin,” he greeted grumpily. “Can I use the shower?”
“The hose is at the back,” Kibum rolled his mischievous eyes.
“Asshole,” the redhead swore as he pushed him and his two large luggage bags in.
Ryeowook came out from the kitchen with a frying pan and his face broke into a surprised smile when he spotted the newcomer. “Heenim! I didn’t expect you!”
“No one does.”
“Well, I just made some apple pie. If you’re hungry, you can help yourself to a piece! Oh, let me get Kangin to carry up your bags.” Ryeowook babbled on, fidgeting as he attempted to simultaneously cook his eggs, dust the windowsills, and straighten out the picture frames. “Goodness, if only you had given us a few days’ notice! The place is not usually this unkempt! I guess you’re going to have to sleep in the attic until we get the guest room less cluttered. I’ll get the neighbors to help with that if it gets too much, and I’ll also have to-”
Kibum led Heechul into the kitchen and the redhead sat down, wincing as the wooden chair creaked noisily underneath his weight. “So, what’s new?” he asked.
“We got a new tractor last week.”
Heechul yawned theatrically. “How fascinating.”
“Kangin got a boyfriend,” Kibum shrugged. “Which is good because there are less temper tantrums now.”
“How could any guy stand him?”
“The same way any guy could stand you.”
Heechul raised an eyebrow. “Point taken. Anything else?”
“This and that. New neighbors and whatnot. Overall, nothing has changed too much since you’ve last came here. We’re still in the same routine.”
“Which means that I’ll be just as miserable here as I was last time,” Heechul sighed. “Joy.”
2.
Heechul spent his first day lying in his single bed listening to his iPod until it ran out of battery that evening. He was absolutely flabbergasted to discover that there still were no outlets installed around the house despite the fact that they had been all the rage for at least a decade. “Why would you have a tractor and not a freaking outlet?” he had complained. “Even the Flintstones are less technologically challenged than you people!”
Kangin had frowned. Kibum just laughed quietly behind his hand.
The second day, he had been bent on staying in his room and staring at the ceiling, but boredom ushered him out the door. “What do you people do in a dump like this?”
“We work for our wellbeing,” Kangin answered gruffly, handing him a broom. “And I suggest that you do the same starting today.”
Heechul looked at the broom like it was infected with lice. “You can’t be serious.”
“He’s dead serious,” Ryeowook called from the kitchen.
“Fuck,” the redhead conceded, snatching the straw-tailed handle. “Enjoy the view while you still can, asshole. You’re never going to see me sweep the floors after today.” He ended up being on floor sweeping duty for the next two weeks.
Life in the countryside was simple. You had a routine, chores that you had to complete, mundane tasks you have to carry out. Heechul hated it, and by the third week of his stay he was almost drowning from all the naturalness around him. Either that, or the smell of horse crap was making his head spin. “Is there anything else you people do besides chores?” he asked Kibum one afternoon as he was sweeping the living room floor.
The younger man was bent over the dining table, a blank sheet of paper in front of him. He twirled his pen in his right hand. “Nope.”
“What are you doing?” the city boy asked, desperate for some sensible conversation.
“Thinking.”
“Great answer, Snow White. Mirror, mirror on the wall, can you be more specific?”
“I’m writing a short story,” Kibum replied in an eye-rolling voice. “Trying to get over this nasty bout of writer’s block.”
“What’s your story about?”
“About a city girl and a country boy.”
Heechul leaned on his broom and gave his cousin the most unimpressed expression he could muster. “Let me guess, City Girl meets Country Boy, Country Boy likes City Girl, bam, they fall in love and have a happily ever after?”
“That was Plan A,” Kibum admitted. “Plan B was going to be this whole action sequence where the city girl’s father was killed by the country boy’s uncle and she was plotting revenge before realizing that the country boy was actually the boy who saved her life many years ago when-”
“Just stick to Plan A,” the redhead cut his cousin off with an impatient flick of his wrist. “At least giggly teenage girls will buy your story that way.”
“I’m actually wanting to publish it in the news article that releases an issue everything month.”
“Do you think I care?”
“No, but you want some sensible conversation.”
Heechul was usually irritated with Kibum’s mind-reading abilities. “Asshole,” he cursed as he swept the floor with vengeance.
At the sight of his cousin’s scowling face, Kibum relented. “I’m meeting up with Donghae and Siwon at the market later. If you want, you can come along.”
“Finally! That wasn’t too hard, now, was it?”
3.
“This might be a dumb question, but why doesn’t this place sell anything other than fruits and vegetables and cows?” Heechul was pretty much fed up with all this countryside shit. He felt like he was in the eighteenth-century, back when everything smelled like horse manure, which was not good because he was a modern man, dammit.
Donghae tilted his head to the side, a quizzical expression on his face. “It’s a farmer’s market?”
“Do you have markets like these where you come from?” Siwon asked conversationally, a kind smile on his perfectly sculpted face. Heechul was not going to lie, Kibum made really attractive friends (but not as attractive as his truly, of course).
“We have markets,” the redhead grumbled. “But they are indoors, more spacious, have a lot more air-conditioning, and are called shopping malls.”
“I’ve never been to a mall before,” Donghae chirped in, eyes widening in childish curiosity. “What are they like?”
Heechul looked at the boy and blinked several times. “There’s something wrong with this situation.”
“Most people who are born here choose not to leave,” Kibum explained with a roll of his eyes. “It’s much simpler just to stay and continue life as before.”
“Well, aren’t I lucky not to have been born here, huh?” Heechul retorted a bit too loudly, attracting several dirty glances from the town’s natives.
Kibum snickered. “I think we’re the lucky ones not to have you around.”
“Asshole.”
“Hey, look, it’s the Chinese guy!” Donghae pointed excitedly.
“Don’t point, it’s rude,” Siwon chastised, immediately smacking the younger’s arm down.
Heechul looked to where Donghae had originally been pointing and his eyebrows shot upwards so fast that Siwon would have been impressed if he had been paying attention. Heechul seldom called anybody good-looking and never considered it possible to carry half of his own blinding attractiveness, but goddamn if there was anything close to his minimum standards of absolute gorgeousness, it was standing right there a few meters off brushing a black horse’s mane.
He spun around and punched his idiot cousin in the shoulder, relishing the ouch what was that for? that he totally deserved. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”
“About what?” Kibum scowled, rubbing his arm.
“That!” Heechul pointed at the new guy with everything he had except his pointer finger, mindful of Siwon’s reproving stare. “You didn’t tell me that there were hot guys around here! Man, I could have spent my time cruising instead of waving a broom around the house like Pre-princess Cinderella.”
“Well, I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure if you were into stable boys.”
“I’m not,” Heechul admitted sharply. “I’m into sexiness on a pair of long legs.”
Kibum scrutinized Mr. Sexiness On A Pair Of Long Legs and scoffed. “Well, tough luck, you can look at him all you want, but Chinese Guy is not exactly known for being the most talkative rooster in the flock.”
“Asshole.” Heechul hated Kibum’s farm animal analogies and his cousin knew it.
“It’s true,” Siwon agreed softly. “He lived here all his life and still has not spoken as much as three words. At least not since his mother died several years ago. You’d be lucky to get a syllable out of him.”
“Can you imagine?” Donghae further widened his eyes. “Hundreds of days without saying anything! I would have to bind my mouth shut for me to last that long.”
“Why don’t you go do that right about now?” Heechul snapped at Goldfish-Eyed Donghae.
“Seriously, Heechul,” Siwon consoled. “You can talk to him if you want, but don’t expect any reply. There have been people who have talked to him for years and the most they have gotten out of him are four-worded sentences. He still only gives me one-worded replies and I see him basically every day.”
The redhead took one last look at the mysterious Chinaman and then spun on his heel. “Fine, I get it. Bring me to the nearest clothing store, stat.”
4.
Heechul soon learned that the easiest way to duck out of an afternoon of menial floor-sweeping was to get his nonexistent ass out of the door and avoid the ever-so-in-love-and-therefore-not-as-bipolar Kangin. Worked like a charm. Except for the fact that besides sitting in a (horse manure scented) field while watching the farm scenery, there was absolutely nothing to do. God, why was the countryside so boring and every synonym found in the thesaurus under the word boring?
So he started walking around, wishing that there was some sensible company other than his asshole excuse of a cousin. His thoughts automatically gravitated towards Zhou Mi, the very reason why he was in the middle of nowhere in the first place. If he had counted correctly, he and Victoria were to be married in exactly thirty-three days, and the redhead snorted at the idea. His half-brother was gay, and what’s more stereotypically gay, and he did a horrible job at hiding it (Heechul could feel his gay vibes from miles and miles away). Of course, Zhou Mi was mildly hurt at the fact that Victoria was already seeing Nickhun at the time of the arrangement, but who was he to judge with his blatant crush on his father’s rival business partner’s son. Heechul smiled. It would be a sham marriage, but at least the two got along. They got along really well, actually. So well that if Zhou Mi was not so transparently homosexual, they unquestionably had the chance of being nominated for Cutest Couple of the Year.
Soon enough, another farm came into view. It was relatively small and did not take up too much land, with a stable, a small plot of wheat, a vegetable garden, and a simple wooden fence encircling a flock of hens. Heechul’s mind started wondering again, this time to his life back home in the city. People here were serious die-hard DYI-ers, a stark contrast to those back in Seoul where almost everything was automatic or quasi-automatic. It was exasperatingly disconcerting.
His shoulder suddenly felt wet. “Asshole!” he cursed to the sky as fat droplets of horse-manure-scented water came plopping down onto his expensive clothing. Picking up the pace, he sprinted towards the barn and pulled on the front door, which he found was locked. Cursing, he tried the stable next and almost decided against it when the smell of horse manure came running up his nose like an ADHD-inflicted three-year-old high on Coca Cola.
Oh, what he would do for his expensive clothing!
The minute he closed the door behind him, he heard a rifle cock into position. And Heechul, in his blind panic, made the most unwise decision and started to scream at the top of his lungs, arms flailing wildly in impractical self-defense.
And promptly fainted in mid-scream at the sight of a pair of dark eyes.
He woke up several hours (minutes? weeks? months?) later to the sound of clucking on a pile of hay that smelled like horse saliva. He sat up, wincing at his sore neck, and got his eyes adjusted to the light before checking out his surroundings. He had been resting under a sunray, which totally pissed him off because pale skin did not like having too much ultraviolet exposure, and he was apparently swimming with the chickens. All five of them. Joy.
He heaved himself onto his feet and shuffled through the small flock of cackling birds, grimacing when one of them totally freaked out at his feet in indignant annoyance. “Shut your beak, boy,” the redhead ordered in irritation. Soft laughter was heard from the shadows where the sun was unable to reach, and he scowled. “You too, stranger!”
The stranger came into view with a glass of milk and a piece of bread, and Heechul recognized him immediately.
“Hey, you’re the Chinese guy,” he exclaimed, gratefully accepting the normal-looking food. He took a gulp of the milk and almost instantly spit it out again at its sourness. “Holy shit, is this stuff expired or something?”
The Chinaman shook his head, half amused half annoyed. He tilted his head towards the field, where a large cow was grazing.
Heechul looked scandalized. “That’s so disgusting! I just drank milk from a cow’s bladder! God, is this bread fresh from the field, too? Gross.”
Mr. Sexiness On A Pair Of Long Legs rolled his eyes and took back the glass, downing it in a single gulp. He also took back the bread and placed it on a nearby table.
“Is that what you eat around here every day?”
The taller man nodded, his gaze clear and steady.
Heechul made a face. “I don’t know how you countrymen do it, because that is just revolting. Back in the city, we eat real food.” And by real, Heechul meant processed and nutrient-extracted and filled with manmade chemicals. The redhead raised his eyebrows. “What’s your name?”
“Han Geng,” he replied, barely audible over the sound of clucking chickens.
“I’m Heechul. People around here tell me that you don’t talk much.”
Han Geng shrugged.
“Live alone?”
The Chinaman nodded.
“No immediate family? No relatives outside this place?”
He shook his head.
“So you run this place all by yourself?”
He nodded.
Heechul smiled, amused and impressed. “Wow, you really don’t talk much.”
And that was when he knew that he had found some sensible company.
5.
It became a tacit routine for Heechul to show up unannounced on Han Geng’s farm every day. After all, the Chinese man never said that he couldn’t-he never said anything, really, just a few nods and grunts here and there. He also made him things to eat whenever he came over, and eventually Heechul got used to the sourness of fresh milk and the dryness of fresh homemade bread. Plus, the visits got him out of Cinderella duty and out of Kangin’s sight, which was more than enough reason.
“I come from the rich side of Seoul,” Heechul described one sunny afternoon as his silent companion worked around the barn area. “My parents own a huge company and my dad makes millions. But even without money, it’s a really cool place. Lots of buildings and shopping malls. I love it there so much better than here; at least it never smells like horse manure. If I had a choice, I would definitely go back in a heartbeat, but my parents are practically forcing me to stay here. At least until my half-brother gets married, which is totally ridiculous, if you put it in my perspective. It really shocks me that they haven’t realized that Zhou Mi is the worst closeted gay man on the face of the planet. Even Yesung figured out he was gay, and Yesung never figures out anything! He and Victoria make a really good-looking couple though. It would amuse me if they actually go through with it. God, I should really write a letter or something-”
Han Geng was raking the hay the whole time Heechul was complaining about the lack of wireless internet, but it was clear that he was at least half-listening, always smiling at the right places.
“You know what really surprises me? That people actually like being in the countryside. No offence, but there’s not that much to do here except sweep the floor and, well, rake the hay. It smells like shit all the damn time, it’s boring as hell when you have no technology, you can totally kill your complexion when working outside too long, and you eat stuff practically raw. Why do people deliberately decide to live in the middle of nowhere?
The Chinese man had somehow appeared right in front of the city boy during his whole spiel, and without hesitation started dragging him outside by the forearm. He pointed towards the ground, to the wheat field, to the sky in one graceful motion, and looked at Heechul as if waiting for some understanding to fall upon him.
Heechul the Clueless City Rat was never great at reading body language.
After realizing that his life lesson was not working, Han Geng then took the redhead’s hand and led him towards the stables. Heechul tried not to notice how tan and calloused his hands were against his own pale manicured ones. In one of the stalls was a midnight black horse, the one that Heechul had seen earlier at the market. “Her name is Perfection,” he explained as he opened the stall and coaxed his horse out.
Heechul watched in amazement as Han Geng saddled her in record time. The grand creature merely stood there, totally trusting and docile, and Heechul almost laughed at how Perfection’s tail wagged like a Labrador. Once the preparations were done, Han Geng led her out of the stables and into the open. She whinnied and her owner grinned widely. Han Geng then motioned Heechul to come closer, and the moment the redhead was near enough, the Chinaman had already picked him up and plopped him on Perfection’s back.
“Holy shit!” Heechul screamed, grabbing his companion’s shoulder for balance. “What are you doing? I have never in my life ridden a horse before! I haven’t even been on a carousel! Get me off right now!”
Han Geng rolled his eyes and ignored his confidante’s protests, placing a helmet onto Heechul’s head. Silently, he instructed him to hold onto the horse’s mane. “Just trust Perfection,” he whispered, and with that, Heechul found himself screaming and fighting for balance as Perfection galloped towards the hills. The scenery was a blur to his eyes, a watercolor of green and gold and baby blue. Wind kicked at his face and he squeezed his eyes shut. After several minutes, Perfection finally slowed to a comfortable trot, and Heechul was able to lift his head a little bit. He saw the green pasture, the golden wheat field, the baby blue sky, and even he could not lie that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.
By the time the black horse brought him back to Han Geng, he was breathless and in dire need of a hairbrush. “I am never doing that again!” he yelled the moment the Chinaman helped him off Perfection’s back, hastily taking off the helmet and fixing his hair. “I could have broken my neck! Do you know how much my life costs me? Christ, what were you thinking? Ugh, you even got my clothes smelling like horse! You’re paying for my dry cleaning bills!”
He was smiling through his rant, though, and Han Geng smiled back, ten times wider.
They spent the rest of the afternoon lying under the sun staring up at the sky.
“When I get out of here, I’ll go back home and use my savings to go travelling. I want to go to Europe, see the old buildings that everybody raves about. I want to go shopping in America, see what the Americans wear, try things on and see if the people there are really as fat as all the commercials make them out to be. What about you? Any travelling in your imminent future?”
Han Geng shook his head and continued to find imaginary shapes in the clouds.
“Lame,” Heechul grimaced. “Have you even been outside of this town?”
Again, he shook his head.
“Holy shit. Don’t you ever get bored around here?”
The Chinaman gave a one-shouldered shrug.
“Then why don’t you leave? At least for a little while, like a mini vacation?”
Han Geng sat up and rested on his elbows. “I have to stay.”
“Bullshit, people never have to do anything. Nobody’s forcing you to be here, so you have every reason to leave.”
“Then who will take care of Perfection? And what about my farm? I have a responsibility here to my parents and to myself. This is my home and I’m here to take care of it.”
Heechul was not sure if he should have been more surprised at Han Geng’s answer or at Han Geng’s answer. “Man, that’s the most you have ever said to me. You spoke more words that you have spoken the whole two weeks I’ve met you. It’s a shame, really, how you don’t talk as much as you should.”
Han Geng raised his eyebrows. And smiled softly, eyes turning into dark crescent moons. “I never find any need to talk with people.”
The redhead laughed, unable to admit aloud that he was glad that he was an exception.
6.
The day Kangin told him that his parents were ready for his return anytime he was packed and ready to leave was a peculiar one.
“They seemed really annoyed,” he laughed. “Your father, especially.”
“My father’s always annoyed,” Heechul had replied, rolling his eyes, thinking back to the time his dad had pretty much freaked out on a waiter when he brought in diced chicken instead of sliced.
The city rat should have been absolutely thrilled. He hated the countryside, where there were no outlets, no technological texting devices, no cellphone signals, and no real (processed) food. But instead of throwing confetti all over the place, he found himself staying silent, a quizzical expression on his face.
“When do they want me back?” he asked softly.
“By tomorrow is what your mother said.”
Heechul was out the door before Kangin could finish his sentence.
He sprinted down the path that he knew by heart and only slowed his pace when a familiar figure working in the wheat field came into view. “Han Geng!” he hollered, making his way up to the farmer without caring that there was a high chance that he may catch lime disease if he stayed in the pasture of tall golden cornrows too long.
Han Geng turned around and looked at the redhead in soundless surprise, brow wet with sweat.
“Thank god I found you here,” Heechul sighed in relief. “I really need to speak with you. About us. Don’t tell me you don’t feel all the things that I feel for you, because I know you do.”
The Chinaman’s eyes lowered and Heechul congratulated himself for guessing correctly.
“My parents want me back by tomorrow.”
Han Geng nodded. “You must be happy. You’ve been looking forward to returning home.”
The redhead pursed his lips.
“So this is goodbye?”
“No.” Heechul raised his chin. “I want you to come back with me. I know that this is your home, and I know that you worry about Perfection, but there’s a world out there, Han Geng! A world that you will never see if you just stay here!” He huffed. “You can come live with me. We’ll travel the world together and have so many adventures!”
“I can’t leave.”
“Why not?”
“Because, like I said, this is my home. This is where I was born and raised and where I intend to stay. I have known Perfection for more than half my life, seen her grow from a young colt to the beauty that she is now.” Han Geng’s eyes turned sad, and he reached for Heechul’s hands and held them tightly in his own. “I would love to be with you, Heechul. But I am a farmer. I don’t live in cities.”
“So you’re saying that you won’t come back with me?”
“I’m sorry.”
Heechul bit his bottom lip and exhaled sharply. “Fine, I’ll stay here.”
“I won’t let you do that.”
“Yes, you will. Han Geng, I felt more at home here in the three weeks I spent with you than I have been my whole life.”
Han Geng shook his head, unbelieving. “I’m a countryman, Heechul; it’s written in my blood. You’re a city boy. You belong in the city with your family and your shopping malls and your technology. I won’t be able to make you happy if you stay. You like change and motion and travelling, while my life is static and will be static until I die. I wouldn’t want to strip you of your happiness just to be with me. It’s too great a sacrifice.”
“Well, too bad, because you’re going to have to teach me to milk a cow, because I w-!”
“Heechul, I don’t want you to stay here,” the taller man deadpanned, cutting off his companion with a sternness that had never emerged before.
The redhead’s expression hardened and he dropped his arms. “You don’t mean that. I don’t believe for a second that you really mean that.”
Han Geng lowered his gaze and turned his back. “Go home, Heechul.”
With pissed off tears in his eyes, Heechul left without another word. He arrived back in Seoul that night and slept in his Queen-sized bed dreaming that he was back on Han Geng’s farm, surrounded by chickens while sleeping on soft hay.
7.
Zhou Mi and Victoria’s wedding was cancelled when it became clear that they had underwent a double elopement with their so-called true loves. And though Heechul had nothing to do with it his parents were still angry with him, which was a mystery within itself.
“So how was your stay with your cousins?” his mother asked curtly as they sat in their elaborate dining table, a glass chandelier hanging above their heads. Heechul had never thought he would ever see his house as overly extravagant, but there he was, wishing that the chandelier would just disappear because it was making him extremely nervous for some strange reason.
“Fine.”
“Did you have any fun on the outskirts? Breathe in fresh air?”
“Mm hm.”
“What did you do?”
“Went to a market. Hung out around the house.” A pause. “Rode a horse.”
“That sounds interesting. What’s it like?”
Heechul thought about the wind blowing at his face, about the way he lifted his head and saw everything in full color, about how Han Geng was smiling when Perfection brought him back. “It was okay,” he answered eventually, picking up the glass of milk and taking a sip. He grimaced at the lack of sourness.
“Anything wrong with your drink, dear? Should I get the maid to get another glass?”
“No, mother.”
He left the table without finishing his dinner and feeling a lot less full than he would have liked.
And exactly three hours later, he had his bags packed and he resolutely marched out the door.
8.
Heechul took a deep breath and brought his hand up to the door, only to drop it back down to his side when the nerves kicked in. It had been a year since he had been back, and nothing had drastically changed. He expected as much. Countrymen hardly liked change unless it had something to do with the seasons.
Physically, Heechul hardly changed. He still had his fiery red hair and flawless skin, the same pointy nose and thin frame, and great fashion sense. He was still considerably attractive, and never lost that quick wit that he was notorious for. But he did change, and significantly.
An almost inaudible grunt from behind made Heechul spin around in surprise, and he blinked several times. Han Geng was almost the same as how he had remembered him. A bit older, of course, with a few more wrinkles above his brow and prominent circles around his forever-dark eyes. But it was definitely still Han Geng. “Hey,” the redhead greeted lamely, a nervous smile on his face.
Han Geng’s lips twitched but otherwise he held still.
“Still soft-spoken, I see,” Heechul joked weakly. “How is life?”
The Chinaman shrugged, blinking.
“After I left last time, I went travelling for a while. I went to Europe and took pictures of the old buildings, just like I said I would. Just returned back to Seoul a day ago to attend my half-brother’s wedding. To Kyuhyun, not to Victoria. Last time I heard, she’s married with a kid now. Well, I was around town so I just wanted to see how you were doing.” Heechul smiled. “It’s just as I remembered it.”
Han Geng offered a small half-smile.
“Every day, I thought about sour milk and wheat fields and horse manure.” Heechul laughed faintly and took a deep shaky breath, heart pounding behind his ribcage. “It’s really great to be back. I missed this, you know. I missed you.”
And then he was enveloped in a pair of strong arms and brought in for a kiss that sucked all energy out of him. “I’m so glad,” the voice that Heechul had missed so much breathed into his ear.
City rat or not, for the first time in over a year, Heechul felt like he had finally returned home.
9.
Kibum’s novel about a city girl and a country boy sold millions around the world. Critics praised it as “a clichéd story worth retelling” and “the most personal endeavor ever attempted by an amateur writer”. A fan wrote to him several weeks after the publication and mentioned in her letter that the book felt so real that she had started to wonder if it was really a true story.
“But of course it was,” Kibum wrote back, eyes travelling towards the redhead laughing as he sped around the hills on a bareback midnight black horse, a tall Chinaman watching from a distance off. “I was there to witness the whole thing.”