Re: USA/Korea: The Moose [1/5]
anonymous
March 9 2009, 23:47:46 UTC
The kid is skinny and big-eyed and actually pretty tall. But then again, those big eyes come from a thin and wasted face, the flesh having drawn away from eyesockets, and he is only tall when he bothers to stand up straight, which is rare.
He is an anomaly in many ways and Alfred doesn’t mind that; he likes odd things, if only to piss off other people. For one thing, the kid isn’t like the other… girlfriends his fellow soldiers keep. It’s a stretch to call him a girlfriend (as well as well, lacking in one of the basic qualifications). And for another thing, he isn’t from a family who sold him.
He had sold himself.
“Yes?” Alfred turned around to see a slightly stooped figure by him. The figure, dressed in white and blue that smells just a little musty as though his clothes have been buried somewhere for a little too long, offered a hesitant, shy smile. Then, in that strange manner of Koreans (and Japanese and Chinese Alfred has to admit to himself), he offered forward a neatly folded letter in both his hands. Giving the boy a long, slightly confused look, he took the letter and unfolded it while the boy waited patiently.
The letters were blocky and childish and the grammar technically correct (as far as Alfred could tell) even though the phrasing was awkward. But it wasn’t chicken scratch and the intention was very clear.
“You understand me, kid?”
The boy nodded eagerly.
“Why bother with this?”
The curious light that had filled the wide brown eyes faded and awkwardly, the boy gestured to his throat, his long sleeves flopping around like sheets in the wind. He gesticulated wildly to Alfred’s further confusion before finally just pointing to the note he had put in the American’s hand.
Blue eyes narrowed. “You know what you’re getting into, kid?” he asked.
The kid smiled, though it was a strained expression, and he nodded. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen though Alfred had always been a bad judge in age. Then again, he’d seen girls as young as fifteen walking around the housing these days.
Alfred read through the letter again. “‘For as long as needed,’” he said aloud. “And your name is…” He squinted. “Young… Sue?”
The boy visibly winced. “Sue, now that’s a girl’s name,” Alfred quipped with a crooked smile. “Even if it’s obvious you’re not one.” He folded the letter and slid it into the pocket of his leather jacket. “It’s a deal then.” He extended his hand and the boy hesitantly reached out to take it, his long sleeve pulled away to reveal a small, soft hand.
Of course, he had only led the boy away to get some food into him, which he had devoured desperately while the American ducked for cover. Alfred lets him keep his own clothes and has him run errands around the base, which the kid does quite well and efficiently. The kid even seems to start looking happy, as he begins to make a monotonous humming from time to time that Alfred has learned to associate with an attempt at singing (the American has never met another individual who can get that happy about dish-washing). He wonders if the boy has any experience at all. Likely the other male knows something or another, seeing how many of his “sisters” leave and in the base, sometimes discretion is a rare thing.
So Alfred decides to test this theory (also because he’s just plain horny).
The kid sleeps in his room in an extra cot that they had gotten from reserves and it had taken him a day or two to manage to sleep without falling onto the floor. Not that one could blame him; those damn things had a nasty tendency to flip or slide or crumple right beneath you without any warning anyways. Their nightly ritual had been established as the kid coming in after dinner from the mess while Alfred finished up whatever paperwork needed to be done (occasionally accomplished with the “circular file” method), the kid pouring out something for Alfred to drink and an eventual trail of events that leads to bed.
The kid blinks in surprise when Alfred pours out another (smaller) glass of scotch and pushes it in his general direction. “Try it out,” the American says genially.
He is an anomaly in many ways and Alfred doesn’t mind that; he likes odd things, if only to piss off other people. For one thing, the kid isn’t like the other… girlfriends his fellow soldiers keep. It’s a stretch to call him a girlfriend (as well as well, lacking in one of the basic qualifications). And for another thing, he isn’t from a family who sold him.
He had sold himself.
“Yes?” Alfred turned around to see a slightly stooped figure by him. The figure, dressed in white and blue that smells just a little musty as though his clothes have been buried somewhere for a little too long, offered a hesitant, shy smile. Then, in that strange manner of Koreans (and Japanese and Chinese Alfred has to admit to himself), he offered forward a neatly folded letter in both his hands. Giving the boy a long, slightly confused look, he took the letter and unfolded it while the boy waited patiently.
The letters were blocky and childish and the grammar technically correct (as far as Alfred could tell) even though the phrasing was awkward. But it wasn’t chicken scratch and the intention was very clear.
“You understand me, kid?”
The boy nodded eagerly.
“Why bother with this?”
The curious light that had filled the wide brown eyes faded and awkwardly, the boy gestured to his throat, his long sleeves flopping around like sheets in the wind. He gesticulated wildly to Alfred’s further confusion before finally just pointing to the note he had put in the American’s hand.
Blue eyes narrowed. “You know what you’re getting into, kid?” he asked.
The kid smiled, though it was a strained expression, and he nodded. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen though Alfred had always been a bad judge in age. Then again, he’d seen girls as young as fifteen walking around the housing these days.
Alfred read through the letter again. “‘For as long as needed,’” he said aloud. “And your name is…” He squinted. “Young… Sue?”
The boy visibly winced. “Sue, now that’s a girl’s name,” Alfred quipped with a crooked smile. “Even if it’s obvious you’re not one.” He folded the letter and slid it into the pocket of his leather jacket. “It’s a deal then.” He extended his hand and the boy hesitantly reached out to take it, his long sleeve pulled away to reveal a small, soft hand.
Of course, he had only led the boy away to get some food into him, which he had devoured desperately while the American ducked for cover. Alfred lets him keep his own clothes and has him run errands around the base, which the kid does quite well and efficiently. The kid even seems to start looking happy, as he begins to make a monotonous humming from time to time that Alfred has learned to associate with an attempt at singing (the American has never met another individual who can get that happy about dish-washing). He wonders if the boy has any experience at all. Likely the other male knows something or another, seeing how many of his “sisters” leave and in the base, sometimes discretion is a rare thing.
So Alfred decides to test this theory (also because he’s just plain horny).
The kid sleeps in his room in an extra cot that they had gotten from reserves and it had taken him a day or two to manage to sleep without falling onto the floor. Not that one could blame him; those damn things had a nasty tendency to flip or slide or crumple right beneath you without any warning anyways. Their nightly ritual had been established as the kid coming in after dinner from the mess while Alfred finished up whatever paperwork needed to be done (occasionally accomplished with the “circular file” method), the kid pouring out something for Alfred to drink and an eventual trail of events that leads to bed.
The kid blinks in surprise when Alfred pours out another (smaller) glass of scotch and pushes it in his general direction. “Try it out,” the American says genially.
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