[FIC] Best Left Forgotten, Written Down Regardless [1/?]
I wanted to try writing something on-going, but I'm too cowardly and uncoordinated in my writing to plan out chapters. This, disjointed journal-esque entries are a perfect starting point. This'll just continue as I think of things to write. In the end, the intro parts tend to sound kind of like letters Hong Kong would write to Mama China, but who else would he write to, really?
(Note: I've written 6 starting entries, but LJ is telling me the posts are too long, so I've split them into 3 per post.)
Title: Best Left Forgotten, Written Down Regardless.
Author: Me
Genre: (Forgot this line for the other fics. OTL ) Drama, Humour, I guess? At least I hope parts of it are humourous.
Characters/Pairings: Hong Kong-centric, England, and mentions of China+Asia. Canada and America make an appearance somewhere in here. . .
Rating/Warnings: PG, nothing scary. Human names used.
Summary: Small Journal Entries/Letters that Hong Kong wrote during his time under England.
“History is best remembered by word of mouth,” Yao once told him, “But nobody remembers the real story. Write things down, and one day, it just might be history!”
For that, Li decided to write down things that happened in his time in Europe. Thinking back, did he really want to remember some of this stuff?
Entry 1: Firsts.
Europe is strange. I do not like it. There are no seasons here, it only rains.
Today: Raining.
Yesterday: Raining.
The day before: Pouring.
Last week: Drenched, but mild.
Foreign weather was abnormal. He already didn’t like it. ‘Already’? He never expected to like it. The minute Arthur had covered his mouth and took him under his arm, he hadn’t liked it. The minute he saw Yao’s anguished face screaming for him, beaten and injured as Arthur stiffly tore away from the Eastern lands with him in grasp, he hated it. And now it was like there were no seasons in this Western land - just rain. Sure, his stay in London had only begun a few weeks ago, but that’s all that had happened. Raining, pouring, spitting . . .
Now, a little boy of no more than seven would either be afraid or curious when pulled into a new world. Li couldn’t tell what he was. He was upset that he had to leave China, he was determined to dislike everything about Arthur and the Kirklands, and he was already tired of no good weather to go outside and play in - even on the days it didn’t rain, it was too soggy and wet outside to really do anything. He didn’t like it, this land of large brows.
“This is your room.” Arthur pushed the doors open to a child’s room, wide and spacious with wooden floors and miscellaneous toys here and there. On one wall was a single bed, square and stiff-looking with powder blue sheets and pillows. “What do you think?”
Li looked at his toes. “No.” How would ‘I don’t like it and I want to go home’ come out in English?
Entry 2: Weird cutlery.
Arthur showed me his table wear. They are not chopsticks, they are miniature farming tools.
“No, don’t hold two forks like chopsticks! One at a time.”
He (however begrudgingly) put down one of the forks.
“That’s righ-hold on hold on, it’s not a pitchfork! Don’t stab at your food!”
Li scowled, like he wasn’t already frowning. “Pitchfork says fork.”
“They’re different kinds of forks,” Arthur sighed from the other end of the table. “A pitchfork is for farming. A table fork is for eating.”
“Same use. Picking up things.”
Arthur let his forehead fall into his palm. “That doesn’t mean you stab at a piece of fish with a table fork!”
“Fish?” Now that surprised the boy. Li eyed the food - supposed food, he was convinced otherwise - like it was a discovery.
Entry 3: Clothing.
Arthur and the other Europeans wear weird clothing. It is uncomfortable. I miss my danggua.
“What’re you doing?” Arthur raised a thick brow, coming back into Li’s room and finding him unbuttoning his vest.
Li only focused on his task, tossing the vest aside and going to work on the dress shirt. Arthur was irked. “Keep it on, keep it on! I told you we were going out in a few minutes!” Arthur rushed over, pulling the buttons together again as Li stubbornly undid them with a childish pout.
“Uncomfortable,” Was all the boy said. He tugged at the stiff cotton of the shirt.
“Just for a little bit. Once we get home you can put on your clothes from home.”
Just when Arthur redid the collar button, Li switched to the bottom of the shirt, untucking and undoing buttons.
Arthur redid them.
Li undid the top buttons.
Arthur redid them.
Li went back to the bottom buttons.
Arthur redid them.
Li proceeded to undo the top buttons agai-
“Oh for the love of the Queen, sit still and stop fidgeting, twit!”
AN:
- Liam: I’ve seen a lot of names that people have given Hong Kong, but in my own headcanon I’d think that he had a Chinese name first - like the ever-stereotypical Li, the first thing I thought of - but it would be awkward in Britain. Thus, a name change to help him blend in, supposedly, like when an immigrant gets a westernized name. It’s just another thing for him to be sour about.
- Li’s English: Broken English is what it is. ‘fishchips’, etc. As well as skipping over words in sentences, or not using contractions are examples. If he just came from Asia, clearly Hong Kong wouldn’t be too skilled in the language.
- Gege: Older brother.
- Stiff as Bone: Uh, boned corsets and the hoop skirts were in back then, I think. . .
- Danggua: A Chinese tunic, I think. Sorry for my terrible usage of foreign items, I just saw on HK’s APH wiki page that this is what his clothes were called.
- DISCLAIMER: I’m a wiki whore. Don’t count on any of my info being correct. And sorry for the long-ass notes. [/cries]