[Super Junior] Yesterday like East-flowing Rivers, PG, Angst/AU, ShiHan
Thanks especially to sonahgi for the prompt I'm only now discovering how much I love you. Did not expect any of the following when I sat down to write ShiHan - apparently I can still write! Sort of. Ups my 2008 Fic Meme word count to 107,660.
Yesterday like East-flowing Rivers
Super Junior, Siwon/Han Geng, PG, 2614 words
AU*. China is ravaged by war, and Siwon doesn't understand why Han Geng won't leave with him.
Yesterday like East-flowing Rivers
by meitachi
The saddest things are always the most beautiful. Han Geng hums the song his mother used to sing about two lovers that could never be together in life, and died never knowing what might have been. He thinks it’s a tragic story, a beautiful one.
“No,” he says. “We can’t. I can’t.”
There are a thousand unspoken words behind his eyes, dark and desperate, like lines of poetry Siwon never learned, incomprehensible and so very Chinese. Siwon doesn’t understand.
“Don’t you want to be with me?”
Han Geng tears his gaze away, fists clenching at his sides. “I can’t abandon my family like that, Siwon,” he says, and the words are hard-bitten, underlined with unhappiness. “I have responsibilities. You can’t ask that of me.”
What he means is that Siwon is not as important. What he means is that here, even in war-torn China, Han Geng will not leave with Siwon for safer, peaceful Korea. He doesn’t love Siwon more than his haggard, starving family, or his ravaged country. He will not trade the dusty and blood-stained roads or the gray-brown forests or the muddy rivers of China for greener, fresher hopes.
Siwon doesn’t understand and Han Geng knows it.
“But don’t you love me?” he asks, and that’s when Han Geng walks away, eyes stinging.
That is not the question to ask - that is not a question at all, but there are duties that must come before selfish desires.
They met on the day Han Geng watched the neighboring village disappear in flames, dirty black smoke curling into the gray sky like a cruel smear of charcoal. He was on the road halfway between home and a village that no longer existed except in charred timber and the hastily buried dead. There was no time for proper funerals when the army was so close, heralded by the terrifying fires that burned as warning.
A river of people carrying everything they could on their backs stumbled down this road, seeking safety, shelter. Han Geng watched them, anger and grief high in his throat, choking him and leaving him feeling restless, helpless.
Someone stumbled into him, clawed at his arm, fell to the ground-
He was hoarse with thirst, and his words were accented.
My name is Shiyuan, he said, because the army hunted down foreigners and murdered them in cold blood.
“Don’t leave,” Siwon says desperately, grabbing at Han Geng’s hand, when he really means Leave. Leave with me.
Han Geng stills but he doesn’t turn around. His fingers curl around Siwon’s briefly, perhaps for the last time. “It’s not a choice,” he murmurs, voice soft but steady, so carefully steady. He’s not to be shaken. He simply cannot leave. It’s not a choice.
The army didn’t attack Han Geng’s village as expected. He nursed a slightly wounded Siwon in his house for a period, between attending to his ailing father and attempting tired smiles for his younger sister. (She should’ve grown up in a different era, he thinks. She should’ve known only luxury and happiness, not the fear that leaves circles around her eyes, or the backbreaking toil that leaves her exhausted, too thin.)
“Why haven’t they attacked?” Siwon wondered, sipping at the broth Liyin had made.
“No matter,” Han Geng replied, spooning his own dinner. “We should be grateful.” It had been two weeks since the neighboring village had been torched - everyone expected their village to be next. Dozens of families had abandoned their homes already, hoping to flee before they lost everything.
Han Geng didn’t have a choice in leaving. His father would not survive a long trek on the road. There was no place to go. It was better here, where at least they still had a bed and nearby medicinal herbs and two fiercely guarded chickens. They stood a poor chance against a rampaging army, but at least here they stood the best they could.
“I don’t understand,” Siwon said, but he let the subject pass. He talked instead of his travels around China - how he had come to the country to visit a year ago, before the emperor had been killed, before the political battle Han Geng didn’t understand, and the war.
“It was a beautiful country.” Siwon smiled, his eyes bright. He touched Han Geng’s hand lightly. “I truly had a great experience.”
Han Geng couldn’t help smiling in return.
China was still a beautiful country, somewhere under the ashes and the blood and the haunting cries of mourners.
Han Geng doesn’t see Siwon for three days and he surmises that the foreigner has left at last, making his way back to Korea hidden on the boat he told Han Geng about. Han Geng’s heart hurts, but he tells himself there was no other way. Of course Siwon would choose safety and home over China (over Han Geng), just like Han Geng had to choose war and home over safety.
“Gege,” Liyin says hesitantly, fingers twining through her hair. “You seem so sad.”
“I’m just tired,” he says, and smiles. He won’t let her be worried. “Working the land is pretty tiring.”
“Do you miss Shiyuan?” she asks, as she ties off her braid.
The pain starts in his chest and spreads until it’s almost too difficult to breathe. Does he miss Shiyuan? Does he miss the brief happiness of Siwon’s dimples and kisses, of Siwon’s strong hands holding him steady, of the quiet truths they’d exchanged in the dark? There could be no words, in Chinese or in any language of the world, Han Geng is positive, that can fully express how much he misses Siwon.
“Yes,” he says, because he’s made it a habit to never lie to Liyin. “Yes, but I had to stay.”
“For us.”
Liyin’s voice is sad and she sighs softly as she scoots along the front step of their house to press her side against Han Geng’s. She leans into him and he closes his eyes. They are silent for a long time.
“It’s hard living like this,” she says at last. “Never knowing when they might attack. Never knowing when we might die.”
He reaches out and squeezes her hand in lieu of a reply. They watch the wind stir the dust in the street, blowing dead leaves across empty thresholds.
Siwon had kissed him first, because Han Geng had never learned to take what he wanted. He only ever took out of necessity, only ever acted as dutifully and as responsibly as he could. The weight of his decisions often weighed down his shoulders, now cupped by Siwon’s hands, fingers stroking, as Han Geng found himself pressed up against the wall of the kitchen. Siwon’s mouth moved gently, tentatively, over his.
“Is - is this okay?” he asked, words stumbling over his lips as he pulled back to stare into Han Geng’s eyes.
“I don’t know,” Han Geng said truthfully, because his heart was flying and his father was sleeping in the next room. He couldn’t look away from Siwon though, and he swallowed hard, because he had never wanted something so desperately before. Wanted to be held and touched and loved, and maybe it was all possible despite the world falling to pieces around them.
“I don’t know,” he repeated, and moved until his lips brushed Siwon’s again, “but I want it.”
Liyin has taken to singing the same sad, sweet song their mother used to sing about the two lovers that could never be together in life, and died never knowing what might have been. Han Geng still thinks it’s a tragic story, but he no longer finds it as beautiful.
He gazes out at the horizon often, eyes faraway. He’s not sure what he’s looking for - signs of an approaching army, or an omen to signal the end of the war, or perhaps a figure he sees endlessly in his dreams.
“There’s a boat,” Siwon said excitedly, grabbing Han Geng’s hand and pulling him around to the back of the house. He was flushed, eyes bright, and he looked so alive that Han Geng couldn’t help smiling, laughing too. “There’s a boat, Geng,” Siwon said again, pulling Han Geng into a hug.
Han Geng didn’t understand, but Siwon was so happy he could only be swept along in it.
“Wait, wait, what are you talking about?” he asked with a chuckle on his lips when Siwon finally let him go. “What about a boat?”
Siwon kissed him instead, swift, joyous. “A boat,” he repeated against Han Geng’s mouth. “Zaizhong told me about it, it’s a secret, but it’s leaving in two nights. It can take us to Korea!”
For a moment, the world shifted on its axis, blurring out of focus, then rushing together to come sharply, painfully into reality. Han Geng’s smile disappeared. He stepped out of Siwon’s arms but kept a hand linked to Siwon’s, ever hopeful. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he looked up into Siwon’s smiling face.
“What do you mean?”
“We can leave China,” Siwon replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “We can go back to Korea, where it’s safe.”
“Siwon-”
Perhaps Siwon saw the stricken expression on Han Geng’s face. He tugged him closer, pulled him back into Siwon’s arms. “Geng,” he said tenderly, “this is great! Don’t you understand? We can finally be together, in peace. Safe!”
“Siwon,” Han Geng tried to say, but his voice caught again. He was terrified by the possibilities Siwon was offering.
“Of course we can bring Liyin and your father too.” Siwon smoothed a hand over Han Geng’s back, comforting. “You know I’d never ask you to leave them.”
The world seemed cold for a moment, bone-chilling despite the stillness of the air. It was only early fall, not yet winter; there was no wind, no reason for the shudder that shook Han Geng. He held tightly to Siwon, not sure what to say or how to say it. Siwon was like comfort, earthy smells and protection from the world, Han Geng’s crutch and one of his few weaknesses. He made Han Geng laugh when the army could attack any day; he made Han Geng hope despite the hopelessness of their situation; he made Han Geng feel and want like he was a different person in a different time, like he could have this without regrets.
Siwon understood Han Geng so well, but-
“He’ll die.”
Han Geng’s words fell like bricks between them, heavy and unforgiving. Han Geng wrenched himself away from Siwon. “He’ll die if we try to make it to the boat, Siwon. He won’t make it. Not to Korea.”
Siwon’s expression was startled, unbelieving. He blinked, reached out for Han Geng again. “Geng, we have to try. I know it’s far but-but we have to try. Your father, I know he’s ill, but we can take care of him. We can do it. Start over in Korea, where he’ll have a real chance, without the war-”
Han Geng said sharply, “No, Siwon, he’ll die.” He knew it with full certainty. His father’s health was past weak; he was barely alive as it was.
“Geng, Geng.” Siwon looked desolate and Han Geng could feel his resolve waver. But his filial duty was in his bones, more innate in who he was than any selfish desire he might harbor. He choked down a dry sob as Siwon pleaded, “Geng, come with me. Leave with me.”
“No,” he said. “We can’t. I can’t.”
It rains the day the army comes into the village. They don’t burn the houses. They don’t even bother to terrorize the scattered, remaining villagers. Instead, they unscroll a long length of paper and nail it the faded red doors of the house where the village head used to live. The paper is damp from rain, the ink slightly smudged, but it is readable under the awning that protects it from the worst of the downpour. Han Geng stands under his umbrella and feels sick, dizzy.
The war is over.
It’s been five weeks since Siwon left, and the war is over. Something happened at the capital and there is a new emperor now, with armies under his rule that do not attack the countryside.
Somehow, Han Geng’s village has survived these past months of terror and death.
He returns home bearing the good news, too numb to be elated or relieved. Liyin breaks into tears at his words, overcome. From the other room, their father’s voice rasps, weakly, asking after the cause of Liyin’s tears.
“The war’s over, Father,” Han Geng says. He shakes the water from his umbrella and leaves it in the corner by the door. He goes to his father’s bedside, takes his hand, looks at his face, yellowed with sickness and lined with age. His heart beats heavily in his chest, uncertain.
Han Geng’s father closes his eyes and, with much effort, the corners of his lips ease up in a smile.
“Good,” he says.
A minute later, he opens his eyes. Han Geng has been standing there, unmoving, waiting. “You should’ve gone,” his father whispers.
Han Geng opens his mouth to protest. “Father-”
“I’m going to die anyway, son. I just want you and Liyin to be happy.” His father’s hands feel papery and frail, but his fingers twitch over Han Geng’s palm. “I just want you to live a happy life, Geng. That will give me comfort.”
Han Geng’s throat is tight. “It doesn’t matter,” he says at last. “I want to take care of you. I want to be here for you and Liyin. I must.”
His father’s hand falls from his, back onto the bed by his side. He closes his eyes again and sighs, catching in a hollow cough that makes Han Geng lean forward, worried. His father waves him aside and leans back into his flat, rough pillow. “You’re a good son, Geng.”
From behind, Liyin slips her arms around Han Geng’s waist and rests her head against his back. “Gege,” she says softly, and he hears remorse in her voice. She’s sorry. For their world, for their lives, for the way things had to be, Han Geng here and Siwon not.
Han Geng thinks of Siwon, remembers him. Remembers his golden laughter and his bright eyes, remembers the heat of his body and the sweetness of his voice, low in Han Geng’s ear, earnest, honest. He remembers feeling like he’s finally found someone who understands him, who will support him and hold him when he should need it.
The rain patters down, washing away dirt and mud, clearing the dusty marks of hopelessness. The leaves have turned color now, flaming gold and red and orange, shivering under the force of the rain, dancing on the trees outside the house.
Han Geng stares, and thinks about his family, and about China, his home - free at last from the war.
The most beautiful things are always the saddest.
In another country, barren and gray and cold with pending winter, Siwon sits by the fire, warm in heavy layers and a cup of hot tea. Here, he is home, he is safe - he lives in peace. Here, he only remembers the days and nights with Han Geng, every smile and every touch. He dreams endlessly about two lovers that could never be together in life, and died never knowing what might have been. He reads poems and memorizes their lines, learns the words he didn’t know how to say before. I’m only now discovering how much I love you. He finally understands what he didn’t then, about choices and lack of choices. He regrets leaving.
One day, he will go back.
--
Started/Finished: 2008.12.29
Notes: The title is taken from the Chinese song 新鸳鸯蝴蝶梦/New Mandarin Butterfly Dream. The lyrics are here. I wrote the fic first, but afterwards realized that this is the song that goes with it. You have no idea how hard it is to translate those lyrics - English just doesn't convey the same meaning, aesthetically, without cumbersome additional words. Oh and if you want the song! Download.
*AU in terms of SJ, but also AU in terms of Chinese history. This is an alternate history of China, okay? Holy crap, who would think otherwise? Do not take fic as historical accuracy, ever.
Yesterday like East-flowing Rivers
Super Junior, Siwon/Han Geng, PG, 2614 words
AU*. China is ravaged by war, and Siwon doesn't understand why Han Geng won't leave with him.
Yesterday like East-flowing Rivers
by meitachi
The saddest things are always the most beautiful. Han Geng hums the song his mother used to sing about two lovers that could never be together in life, and died never knowing what might have been. He thinks it’s a tragic story, a beautiful one.
“No,” he says. “We can’t. I can’t.”
There are a thousand unspoken words behind his eyes, dark and desperate, like lines of poetry Siwon never learned, incomprehensible and so very Chinese. Siwon doesn’t understand.
“Don’t you want to be with me?”
Han Geng tears his gaze away, fists clenching at his sides. “I can’t abandon my family like that, Siwon,” he says, and the words are hard-bitten, underlined with unhappiness. “I have responsibilities. You can’t ask that of me.”
What he means is that Siwon is not as important. What he means is that here, even in war-torn China, Han Geng will not leave with Siwon for safer, peaceful Korea. He doesn’t love Siwon more than his haggard, starving family, or his ravaged country. He will not trade the dusty and blood-stained roads or the gray-brown forests or the muddy rivers of China for greener, fresher hopes.
Siwon doesn’t understand and Han Geng knows it.
“But don’t you love me?” he asks, and that’s when Han Geng walks away, eyes stinging.
That is not the question to ask - that is not a question at all, but there are duties that must come before selfish desires.
They met on the day Han Geng watched the neighboring village disappear in flames, dirty black smoke curling into the gray sky like a cruel smear of charcoal. He was on the road halfway between home and a village that no longer existed except in charred timber and the hastily buried dead. There was no time for proper funerals when the army was so close, heralded by the terrifying fires that burned as warning.
A river of people carrying everything they could on their backs stumbled down this road, seeking safety, shelter. Han Geng watched them, anger and grief high in his throat, choking him and leaving him feeling restless, helpless.
Someone stumbled into him, clawed at his arm, fell to the ground-
He was hoarse with thirst, and his words were accented.
My name is Shiyuan, he said, because the army hunted down foreigners and murdered them in cold blood.
“Don’t leave,” Siwon says desperately, grabbing at Han Geng’s hand, when he really means Leave. Leave with me.
Han Geng stills but he doesn’t turn around. His fingers curl around Siwon’s briefly, perhaps for the last time. “It’s not a choice,” he murmurs, voice soft but steady, so carefully steady. He’s not to be shaken. He simply cannot leave. It’s not a choice.
The army didn’t attack Han Geng’s village as expected. He nursed a slightly wounded Siwon in his house for a period, between attending to his ailing father and attempting tired smiles for his younger sister. (She should’ve grown up in a different era, he thinks. She should’ve known only luxury and happiness, not the fear that leaves circles around her eyes, or the backbreaking toil that leaves her exhausted, too thin.)
“Why haven’t they attacked?” Siwon wondered, sipping at the broth Liyin had made.
“No matter,” Han Geng replied, spooning his own dinner. “We should be grateful.” It had been two weeks since the neighboring village had been torched - everyone expected their village to be next. Dozens of families had abandoned their homes already, hoping to flee before they lost everything.
Han Geng didn’t have a choice in leaving. His father would not survive a long trek on the road. There was no place to go. It was better here, where at least they still had a bed and nearby medicinal herbs and two fiercely guarded chickens. They stood a poor chance against a rampaging army, but at least here they stood the best they could.
“I don’t understand,” Siwon said, but he let the subject pass. He talked instead of his travels around China - how he had come to the country to visit a year ago, before the emperor had been killed, before the political battle Han Geng didn’t understand, and the war.
“It was a beautiful country.” Siwon smiled, his eyes bright. He touched Han Geng’s hand lightly. “I truly had a great experience.”
Han Geng couldn’t help smiling in return.
China was still a beautiful country, somewhere under the ashes and the blood and the haunting cries of mourners.
Han Geng doesn’t see Siwon for three days and he surmises that the foreigner has left at last, making his way back to Korea hidden on the boat he told Han Geng about. Han Geng’s heart hurts, but he tells himself there was no other way. Of course Siwon would choose safety and home over China (over Han Geng), just like Han Geng had to choose war and home over safety.
“Gege,” Liyin says hesitantly, fingers twining through her hair. “You seem so sad.”
“I’m just tired,” he says, and smiles. He won’t let her be worried. “Working the land is pretty tiring.”
“Do you miss Shiyuan?” she asks, as she ties off her braid.
The pain starts in his chest and spreads until it’s almost too difficult to breathe. Does he miss Shiyuan? Does he miss the brief happiness of Siwon’s dimples and kisses, of Siwon’s strong hands holding him steady, of the quiet truths they’d exchanged in the dark? There could be no words, in Chinese or in any language of the world, Han Geng is positive, that can fully express how much he misses Siwon.
“Yes,” he says, because he’s made it a habit to never lie to Liyin. “Yes, but I had to stay.”
“For us.”
Liyin’s voice is sad and she sighs softly as she scoots along the front step of their house to press her side against Han Geng’s. She leans into him and he closes his eyes. They are silent for a long time.
“It’s hard living like this,” she says at last. “Never knowing when they might attack. Never knowing when we might die.”
He reaches out and squeezes her hand in lieu of a reply. They watch the wind stir the dust in the street, blowing dead leaves across empty thresholds.
Siwon had kissed him first, because Han Geng had never learned to take what he wanted. He only ever took out of necessity, only ever acted as dutifully and as responsibly as he could. The weight of his decisions often weighed down his shoulders, now cupped by Siwon’s hands, fingers stroking, as Han Geng found himself pressed up against the wall of the kitchen. Siwon’s mouth moved gently, tentatively, over his.
“Is - is this okay?” he asked, words stumbling over his lips as he pulled back to stare into Han Geng’s eyes.
“I don’t know,” Han Geng said truthfully, because his heart was flying and his father was sleeping in the next room. He couldn’t look away from Siwon though, and he swallowed hard, because he had never wanted something so desperately before. Wanted to be held and touched and loved, and maybe it was all possible despite the world falling to pieces around them.
“I don’t know,” he repeated, and moved until his lips brushed Siwon’s again, “but I want it.”
Liyin has taken to singing the same sad, sweet song their mother used to sing about the two lovers that could never be together in life, and died never knowing what might have been. Han Geng still thinks it’s a tragic story, but he no longer finds it as beautiful.
He gazes out at the horizon often, eyes faraway. He’s not sure what he’s looking for - signs of an approaching army, or an omen to signal the end of the war, or perhaps a figure he sees endlessly in his dreams.
“There’s a boat,” Siwon said excitedly, grabbing Han Geng’s hand and pulling him around to the back of the house. He was flushed, eyes bright, and he looked so alive that Han Geng couldn’t help smiling, laughing too. “There’s a boat, Geng,” Siwon said again, pulling Han Geng into a hug.
Han Geng didn’t understand, but Siwon was so happy he could only be swept along in it.
“Wait, wait, what are you talking about?” he asked with a chuckle on his lips when Siwon finally let him go. “What about a boat?”
Siwon kissed him instead, swift, joyous. “A boat,” he repeated against Han Geng’s mouth. “Zaizhong told me about it, it’s a secret, but it’s leaving in two nights. It can take us to Korea!”
For a moment, the world shifted on its axis, blurring out of focus, then rushing together to come sharply, painfully into reality. Han Geng’s smile disappeared. He stepped out of Siwon’s arms but kept a hand linked to Siwon’s, ever hopeful. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he looked up into Siwon’s smiling face.
“What do you mean?”
“We can leave China,” Siwon replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “We can go back to Korea, where it’s safe.”
“Siwon-”
Perhaps Siwon saw the stricken expression on Han Geng’s face. He tugged him closer, pulled him back into Siwon’s arms. “Geng,” he said tenderly, “this is great! Don’t you understand? We can finally be together, in peace. Safe!”
“Siwon,” Han Geng tried to say, but his voice caught again. He was terrified by the possibilities Siwon was offering.
“Of course we can bring Liyin and your father too.” Siwon smoothed a hand over Han Geng’s back, comforting. “You know I’d never ask you to leave them.”
The world seemed cold for a moment, bone-chilling despite the stillness of the air. It was only early fall, not yet winter; there was no wind, no reason for the shudder that shook Han Geng. He held tightly to Siwon, not sure what to say or how to say it. Siwon was like comfort, earthy smells and protection from the world, Han Geng’s crutch and one of his few weaknesses. He made Han Geng laugh when the army could attack any day; he made Han Geng hope despite the hopelessness of their situation; he made Han Geng feel and want like he was a different person in a different time, like he could have this without regrets.
Siwon understood Han Geng so well, but-
“He’ll die.”
Han Geng’s words fell like bricks between them, heavy and unforgiving. Han Geng wrenched himself away from Siwon. “He’ll die if we try to make it to the boat, Siwon. He won’t make it. Not to Korea.”
Siwon’s expression was startled, unbelieving. He blinked, reached out for Han Geng again. “Geng, we have to try. I know it’s far but-but we have to try. Your father, I know he’s ill, but we can take care of him. We can do it. Start over in Korea, where he’ll have a real chance, without the war-”
Han Geng said sharply, “No, Siwon, he’ll die.” He knew it with full certainty. His father’s health was past weak; he was barely alive as it was.
“Geng, Geng.” Siwon looked desolate and Han Geng could feel his resolve waver. But his filial duty was in his bones, more innate in who he was than any selfish desire he might harbor. He choked down a dry sob as Siwon pleaded, “Geng, come with me. Leave with me.”
“No,” he said. “We can’t. I can’t.”
It rains the day the army comes into the village. They don’t burn the houses. They don’t even bother to terrorize the scattered, remaining villagers. Instead, they unscroll a long length of paper and nail it the faded red doors of the house where the village head used to live. The paper is damp from rain, the ink slightly smudged, but it is readable under the awning that protects it from the worst of the downpour. Han Geng stands under his umbrella and feels sick, dizzy.
The war is over.
It’s been five weeks since Siwon left, and the war is over. Something happened at the capital and there is a new emperor now, with armies under his rule that do not attack the countryside.
Somehow, Han Geng’s village has survived these past months of terror and death.
He returns home bearing the good news, too numb to be elated or relieved. Liyin breaks into tears at his words, overcome. From the other room, their father’s voice rasps, weakly, asking after the cause of Liyin’s tears.
“The war’s over, Father,” Han Geng says. He shakes the water from his umbrella and leaves it in the corner by the door. He goes to his father’s bedside, takes his hand, looks at his face, yellowed with sickness and lined with age. His heart beats heavily in his chest, uncertain.
Han Geng’s father closes his eyes and, with much effort, the corners of his lips ease up in a smile.
“Good,” he says.
A minute later, he opens his eyes. Han Geng has been standing there, unmoving, waiting. “You should’ve gone,” his father whispers.
Han Geng opens his mouth to protest. “Father-”
“I’m going to die anyway, son. I just want you and Liyin to be happy.” His father’s hands feel papery and frail, but his fingers twitch over Han Geng’s palm. “I just want you to live a happy life, Geng. That will give me comfort.”
Han Geng’s throat is tight. “It doesn’t matter,” he says at last. “I want to take care of you. I want to be here for you and Liyin. I must.”
His father’s hand falls from his, back onto the bed by his side. He closes his eyes again and sighs, catching in a hollow cough that makes Han Geng lean forward, worried. His father waves him aside and leans back into his flat, rough pillow. “You’re a good son, Geng.”
From behind, Liyin slips her arms around Han Geng’s waist and rests her head against his back. “Gege,” she says softly, and he hears remorse in her voice. She’s sorry. For their world, for their lives, for the way things had to be, Han Geng here and Siwon not.
Han Geng thinks of Siwon, remembers him. Remembers his golden laughter and his bright eyes, remembers the heat of his body and the sweetness of his voice, low in Han Geng’s ear, earnest, honest. He remembers feeling like he’s finally found someone who understands him, who will support him and hold him when he should need it.
The rain patters down, washing away dirt and mud, clearing the dusty marks of hopelessness. The leaves have turned color now, flaming gold and red and orange, shivering under the force of the rain, dancing on the trees outside the house.
Han Geng stares, and thinks about his family, and about China, his home - free at last from the war.
The most beautiful things are always the saddest.
In another country, barren and gray and cold with pending winter, Siwon sits by the fire, warm in heavy layers and a cup of hot tea. Here, he is home, he is safe - he lives in peace. Here, he only remembers the days and nights with Han Geng, every smile and every touch. He dreams endlessly about two lovers that could never be together in life, and died never knowing what might have been. He reads poems and memorizes their lines, learns the words he didn’t know how to say before. I’m only now discovering how much I love you. He finally understands what he didn’t then, about choices and lack of choices. He regrets leaving.
One day, he will go back.
--
Started/Finished: 2008.12.29
Notes: The title is taken from the Chinese song 新鸳鸯蝴蝶梦/New Mandarin Butterfly Dream. The lyrics are here. I wrote the fic first, but afterwards realized that this is the song that goes with it. You have no idea how hard it is to translate those lyrics - English just doesn't convey the same meaning, aesthetically, without cumbersome additional words. Oh and if you want the song! Download.
*AU in terms of SJ, but also AU in terms of Chinese history. This is an alternate history of China, okay? Holy crap, who would think otherwise? Do not take fic as historical accuracy, ever.