Dear Jessica - Part 1
Title: Dear Jessica
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Shiwon
Challenge: 100 suju fic challenge
Theme: 013. Watermelon
Rating: PG-13
Words Count: 15 694 (Yeah... I kind of got into it a bit much... I had to split it into three parts U_U)
Genre: Hum. Crack + Romance/friendship I guess.
Summary: Letters Kyuhyun writes to his best friend, Jessica, while he's off in vacation in an ugly cottage, with his weird parents and boring Christian neighbor.
A/N: Gosh it took me so long. I couldn't wait to finish this XD
But now it's done! :)
Enjoy.
Dear Jessica - Part 1
June 22nd, 2003
Dear Jessica,
I think I erased, scratched, corrected and rewrote these first words about five or six times, just to find the best way to start this letter. “My dear friend” was just too formal, cold and ridiculously polite (and god knows I'm far from being polite, especially in the situation I'm in), while simply writing”Jessica” was a bit harsh, straight-to-the-point and let's-get-it-over-with (and god knows I'm damn good at beating about the bush when I want).
Anyway, I'm not used to writing letters. On actual paper, that is. With an actual pen, that seems to have found a liking in pouring its ink on my fingers, by the way. (Sorry for the little spots on the sheet.) I feel retarded. Really. Who in his right mind would want to be in a place where computers probably aren't even invented yet? Certainly not me. I mean, I know it's a cottage but... COME ON! A computer isn't any kind of luxury or whim. These days, it's a need! You could be dead right now and I wouldn't even know until I'm back home, can you imagine?
(When I gave my parents this argument, they said there had phones in situations like that. Pfft. A phone. So out-of-date.)
(Not that there's a phone in this cottage anyway. That would be too much technology for it to bear. My parents probably meant their cellphones. Which I can't use unless it is an emergency. And a desperate need to hear my best friend's voice doesn't seem to figure in their definition of an emergency...)
We arrived here this afternoon and I already want to leave. There are no computers, but as weird as it might seem, this is not the main reason for my desperate need to leave this place. The minute I stepped out of the car, I knew I would hate this place. (Well, I got this feeling right after I wiped the saliva off the corner of my mouth. You know me, I can't stay awake in long car rides.) The smell was... Jeez, it was horrible. I had to breathe with my mouth because it was too disgusting. I immediately asked my parents, who did not seem bothered in any way by it (pfft, parents), and they told me it smelled of fish.
Let me complete the thought: Dead fish.
Did I tell you we are spending our vacation in a cottage by the sea? Well, as romantic as it sounds... it isn't. This is a place meant for fishermen, not modern teenagers like me. And I can't even go swimming because the water is too dirty with seaweeds and pollution (and dead fish, you got it). It's too cold anyway. I have to walk outside wearing long sleeves! In summer! What kind of a vacation is that?? Normal people travel in warm countries, with the sun, the sea (in which you can swim), the sand...
But my parents prefer wind, dead fish, and old, ugly, dusty cottages. Damn.
I tried proving my point, but convincing them was like passing an exam in Mister Jung's class. Simply impossible.
So here I am, sitting at the dining table to write you a letter, because my room is too small for that. Actually, I truly think they tried to turn a closet into a bedroom. They failed, but were too lazy to turn it back into a closet. There's a bed and three of its ends are against the walls. The bed would have been only a few centimeters longer and it wouldn't fit in. The fourth and last wall is at something like a foot or two from the bed. They managed to put a “closet” between the bed and the fourth wall. By “closet”, I mean a horizontal piece of wood, on which clothes can be hung up, and some blanket hanging in front of it, probably playing the role of a door.
Not to mention that the door of the bedroom is a sliding one, but so old that it can't be closed anymore. I guess I could close it if I really tried, but I'd be too scared of never being able to open it back afterwards. So I let it be.
That means no intimacy. Not that I have so much to hide from my parents but.. still. I'd like not to be watched all the time. Especially since my mother is trying to read over my shoulder right now and I truly hope she reads this sentence so that she knows I hate it when she does that. She knows I'm writing to you. I'm pretty sure she thinks we're together or something. For her, friendship between boys and girls is a pretext to find a date. Ever since the day I mentioned you were my best friend, she seems to believe it was a subtle way of telling her I was engaged, getting married next week and making her grandmother in a few months. Right...
(And she's rubbing off on my father. Did I tell you he bought me condoms last week??? It came with a father-to-son conversation about sex and safety. Gosh, I think I never felt this ashamed in my entire life. I'm fifteen! I know how babies are made - my mother made sure of that when I turned nine or something. My parents are too open-minded for my own good. The condoms are somewhere in the drawer of my bedside table and I think it will stay there forever. When I'll have sex, I don't think I would use those. Too traumatizing. To think that my father bought them for me. Or that my parents might be thinking about me having sex. Or worse. Me having sex with you. Ugh.)
(No offense but... Ugh. You probably feel the same anyway.)
(I don't know how my parents would react if I told them I'm not exactly interested in girls. Well, I know they aren't homophobic, they told me I-don't-know-how-many times that if I ever discovered that I was gay, they would accept me, no matter what. But I don't really think they do this because they know I am. They're just like that. They would accept it, I guess, but I don't feel like telling them. Not something I wish to discuss with them. I know they would end up talking about sex again, wanting me to be informed, know what to expect when “the time” comes. Urgh. Way too open-minded for my own good.)
(But I already told you all that so many times. I'm rambling, as always.)
So... well. It's the evening and... it's boring. Nothing to do. My mother suggested we play cards, but I gave her the “you're-kidding-me-right?” look, which led her to play with my father instead. They're having too much fun playing this stupid game, they're so into it. They scream and throw their arms in the air when they win. Really. I'm ashamed.
My mother also suggested I read a book... Me. Reading. A book. I know you're laughing while reading this. I am while writing this. (My mother's throwing me a curious glance. But I'm lucky, she's not asking.)
Tomorrow, my parents' friends will arrive. I told you this was a trip they organized with a couple they used to work with and kept contact with, right? Well, I never really met them. But it seems like they have a son about my age. My parents are convinced we'll be friends before the end of the week. Because adults are like that: they think the age does everything. Us, teenagers, make friends with anyone our age we meet.
Right.
I just hope he's not too boring. Because we're supposed to be here for two weeks, and if his parents are like mine, they'll make sure we both spend all of our time together. And it's not like I would have much better things to do...
Anyway, I think I'll stop now. I'll go to sleep. It's only ten in the evening, but I'm exhausted. And I'm bored.
I'll post this letter tomorrow morning. (Because yes, I'll be up early. My parents will make sure of that, so that I really benefit from this trip...) I'll try to write every day. Which means you'll probably receive my last letters a few days after I'm back. But that way, I'm sure I won't forget to tell you something.
So, well. Good bye, sweetheart.
(My mother should never read this, she would see it as a confirmation of the arrival of her grandchildren.)
Kyuhyun. xxx
o0O0o
June 23rd, 2003
Dear Jessica,
Day two of this trip that my parents already dared to qualify as “fun” at least 13 times. I seriously can't see what is supposed to be “fun” in this. I'm not yet at 48 hours without using a computer, but I already feel bored to no end. I need technology...
Well, let me tell you the story of my oh-so-exciting day. (Feel the sarcasm here.)
I got up at 9 am. Yeah, I know, that's pretty unusual, but my parents are morning people, and it seems like they want me to be one too. Ever since the clock showed 7:48 am, I could hear noises coming from the kitchen. And since my room (with the door that can't be closed) is right next to it, I was quite disturbed in my sleep. I could even see, in the few times I half-opened my eyes to check if I was still dreaming, the blurry figures of my parents going from one end to the other of the kitchen. My vision wasn't yet adapted to reality, but I knew everything they did, only with sounds. A drawer being opened, the clinking of metal utensils being grabbed, a drawer being closed, steps, the opening of a cupboard, a frying pan hitting the wood of the cupboard as it was clumsily taken. Eventually, the “pshhht” of food being laid in the frying pan and the “flok flok” of a spoon or fork mixing something in a bowl.
My mom made pancakes. The only advantage of getting up early, I've got to say. My mother's pancakes are like heavenly sent gifts. Sweet and mellow, it melts in your mouth. Did you ever taste them? You should, one day. They're the best pancakes a mom could ever do. No one does them like my mother. (Even though I'd never admit it in her face. I still have my teenager pride to protect. I'm not supposed to adore my mother's cooking.)
Once I was finished eating breakfast, I was bored. Really. I got dressed, I made sure my hair wasn't too messy, I went to sit on the couch and... I had nothing to do. I looked around the place and noticed a few ugly things probably meant to be seen as “decoration”. There is that... thing. I don't know, it is like a painting, but sewed. A painting without paint, some woman (because I can't imagine the fisherman who owns the place doing this, even though I never saw him) sewed the image of a dog in a square piece of cloth, put it in a frame and hung it on the wall.
It's ugly. It simply is. As cute as the dog might be, with the little sweater and hat it is wearing... it is so far from fashionable, it hurts the eye.
There are grandmother-style vases and dusty trinkets everywhere, adding to the bad taste of it all. Not to mention the worn-out couch (it's brown and orange, can you imagine?) and damaged wooden pieces of furniture. Seriously, I don't want to meet the person who did this. An insult to style and taste. Shame on her. (Or him. Because it's so ugly, it could be a fisherman who designed it.)
(I seriously can't imagine a fisherman having good taste in house design.)
After a few minutes of staring, I decided to take a shower. The only occupation I could find. So I went to the bathroom, closed the door, undressed, stepped in the shower, turned the handle for hot water... and was violently attacked by freezing water. Really, it wasn't cold, it was freezing to the point it almost burnt. I don't really feel proud, but at that moment, all I could manage to do was rush out of the shower with a very, very unmanly shriek. My parents, of course, heard it, and it took only a few seconds before I heard my mother's voice on the other side of the door asking me if everything was alright.
Shame.
I'm already lucky there's a shower in there. Hot water appears to be too much of a whim. (I managed to get something near tepid after about five minutes of waiting outside the shower. Let me tell you I took a very quick shower.)
Oh, and I didn't tell you that! When we arrived yesterday, there was a toilet plunger in the shower, right over the hole meant to evacuate the water. My parents told me it was to keep insects, spiders and squirrels from coming inside the house through that hole.
...Ugh. I hate country houses. Especially this one. It's old, extremely small and ugly. It looks like it's made of sheet metal, and the water infiltrates the ceiling when it's is raining. There's a dark spot on the ceiling in the kitchen area (because the kitchen, dining room and living room are all in one room), and there's a bucket in the closet just in case. The renting wasn't very expensive, you guessed right.
...What the hell am I doing here?
After the shower, I was back on the couch with nothing to do apart from looking at the deserted gravelly road, gray shore and dark water from the pretty big window on the wall next to the couch. My mother suggested we take a walk. I first refused categorically (Pfft, a walk), but after a few minutes, I halfheartedly put my pride aside and went back to her, saying it wasn't that much of a bad idea. I was so damn bored. And at least, my mother was happy she could spend time with me. (She says I'm always locking myself up in my room when we're at home. Pfft, I'm not that bad...)
She talked the whole walk through. I don't think she paused one single time to catch her breath. I think she was trying to make up for lost time. (Again because of the 'locking myself in my room' thing. Come on, it's not like I've been missing for the past few years. I just need my privacy, can't she understand that? I think every teenager needs that.) She said a lot of things, but I can't quite remember what those things were, as I only half-listened and instead looked at the “scenery”. If it could be called that. A pitiful and disappointing one, but still a scenery, I guess. Something to look at, at least.
We eventually came back at the cottage, my mom still rambling about god-knows-what, and we saw a red car in the courtyard next to “ours” (the place is rented, it's not really ours). A car that hadn't been there when we left, I was pretty sure of that. It couldn't have suddenly appeared, just like that, out of the blue? Someone was there but... I couldn't see anyone around. Only a car.
We had barely laid our eyes on the mysterious red vehicle when a tall and well-built man, whose dark hair was strewed with greyish locks, came out of the small neighboring cottage, quickly followed by a smaller woman who could only be his wife. They seemed to be about my parents' age. In their advanced forties or something.
As soon as they showed themselves, my mother quickly walked to them to offer her greetings. She hugged the woman and shook the man's hand in a friendly way, smiling, talking and greeting all the same time. I think it was at that specific moment that I understood they were the friends and former colleagues I had been told of. Especially when my mother came back to me, grabbed my arm (pretty harshly) and literally dragged me to the couple, presenting me as her son.
The rest was foreseeable. High-pitched shouts about how much of a gorgeous young man I had become (apparently, they met me when I was a baby) and how my mother should be proud (she was, don't worry), hands on my shoulders, face, cheeks (that were even pinched a few times)... All this animation alerted my father, who came out of our rented cottage and joined us, hugging and shaking hands like my mother had just done. The newcomers repeated the comments they had just made about me to my father, whose chest inflated with pride.
I felt like a circus attraction.
But it was at that very moment that the door of the neighboring cottage opened, a tall, young and quite handsome guy stepping out of it. He seemed to be heading for the car, but he stopped in his tracks as soon as he noticed the “crowd” on their courtyard. He stayed there, in the stairs of the balcony, for a short moment, simply throwing us a curious glance, but the couple (his parents, obviously) beckoned him to join them so that he could meet friends of theirs. It certainly implied going through the same torture I had just endured, but he casually walked to us, wearing a polite smile, visibly aimed at my parents. The couple presented him as their son (I was right) and my parents repeated the same process the other couple had went through with me just a moment ago. (“Oh, but he's a man, now! Look at him! He's handsome!”)
After a few minutes of contemplation and philosophy (“Time goes by so fast! It feels like yesterday, I was holding my little baby Kyuhyun in my arms!”), the attention was back on me, as they presented me to that guy. For the first time since his arrival, he laid his eyes on me and smiled. (And okay, I've got to admit, he has some hell of a gorgeous smile.)
So I met Shiwon. He's tall, well-built, but a bit stiff. And he hides under nerdy clothes. From what I understood, he's seventeen years old. Which is surprising, he looks way older than that. I thought he was like, twenty or something. He looks a lot like his father, but I think he's a little bit taller and, of course, he looks more in shape. And he has those eyebrows... I tell you, you can't even imagine them unless you've seen them. They're... so... thick! His father has thick eyebrows but... Shiwon's are so much more... there!! It's really funny, you should see that!
Oh, yeah, and I almost forgot... Shiwon's Christian. But I mean... a real one! You know, with the perfectly ironed pants and the gray slipper? Tidy hair. Polite smile. If he had glasses, the picture would have been perfect. I had to listen to a conversation our parents had (I couldn't find any way to escape subtly) and I learned they go to church every week. “They” including Shiwon, apparently. I didn't think people under the age of fifty could go to church these days. I'm quite amazed. And I'm pretty sure he prays before going to bed. He probably carries a bible in his suitcase. It wouldn't be surprising, he's a well brought up kid. Polite, helpful, nice. He even participated in the boring conversation the adults were having. My parents are already in love with him. He's like the perfect kid. Pfft. I just hope my parents won't start regretting having such a moody teenager as a son, thinking they didn't raise me the right way. (Though if this made them keep their sexual life for themselves, I wouldn't mind. They want me to know there is no shame with sexuality but... still... I don't want to know they have sex. Damn, they're my parents!)
(I'm pretty sure Shiwon's parents don't talk about this kind of things. Which might explain why he's so straight. Meaning he's kinda stiff, not that he's heterosexual... Even though he certainly IS heterosexual: he's Christian!)
(It's weird that my parents, such open-minded people, are friends with a religious and probably conservative family. I guess they just don't talk about sex together. If that family knew those things my parents tell me...)
Anyway, I think I'll stop writing now, dinner is about to be ready. So, I'll “see you” tomorrow! (Meaning I'll write to you tomorrow. Even though you won't receive this letter until at least a few days...)
Bye!
Kyuhyun xxx
o0O0o
June 24th, 2003
Dear Jessica,
Another boring day. Yup, yet another one. And it's only the third... out of fourteen.
I woke up early again. But there weren't pancakes, I had to eat cereals. And boring ones, on top of all. (I know I'm being immature, but I would have liked to have Froot Loops or Lucky Charms. I got none of that, I had to eat Corn Flakes. Can you find any brand that's as bland as this? Even Rice Crispies would have sounded better...)
I didn't take a shower. I'll take one tomorrow...
I took a walk. Alone, this time, because my mother was busy chatting with Mrs Choi. She suggested we take a walk all three of us, but I said I preferred going alone. I wouldn't have stood listening to their never-ending talking. My mother's rambling is boring enough, the conversations of two mature women would have killed me.
The men went fishing today. But I didn't go. Not that I am not a man, I was invited after all, but I refused. I hate fishing. (If you were there, you'd probably tell me that I'm not helping my bored situation, saying no to every suggestion, but I really don't like fishing. And if you were there, I wouldn't be bored.) So Shiwon, his father and mine went fishing on a small boat. Wearing fishermen attires. (You know, those repulsive black rubber boots, loose pants and old worn out long-sleeved T-shirts with ugly orange life jackets on it. With of course fishing rods in hands, little ugly hats on their heads and boxes probably containing fish-hooks and... ugh... worms. I thought Shiwon was quite handsome, but this attire was the best turn-off I've ever seen.)
I watched them from the shore for a while, until my father saw me in the distance and waved at me. I instantly turned around and went back to the cottage, not wanting them to think I regretted my decision of not coming (which I didn't, I was just thinking about how stupid they looked). I sincerely preferred listening to my mother and Mrs Choi's meaningless chatting than exposing myself to a pity that had no reason to be.
They came back a few hours later (how they managed to stand hours sitting in a pitching boat truly amazed me), showing their few “trophies” (two small fishes, to be precise) with pride. (My father was proud too, even though he was the one that didn't catch any. He still helped a lot, according to Shiwon. That damn polite idiot. He's already getting on my nerves, with his neat and tidy looks. Even while wearing his ugly fisherman's attire, he managed to look well educated.)
The Choi family invited us for dinner. We ate fish, of course. But more than half of the meal was made with fish Mrs Choi had previously bought. (Two fishes aren't enough for six people, it's a commonly known fact, especially when teenagers are around.) (Even though Shiwon ate a reasonable portion and with more class than I did. Come on! He is a teenager, just like me, but he eats neatly while I eat like a pig. I would have felt ashamed, if my father hadn't been just like me. Like father like son, as they say.)
Anyway, I didn't really participate in the conversations, as always. I just ate and stared blankly into nothingness until we finally came back home. It was then that I started writing this. It's only 6:30 pm and I really don't know what I'm going to do with all this time left.
Maybe I really should think about reading... (see what this is doing to me!?)
Anyway... I'll write tomorrow. I don't have anything else to say.
Love,
Kyuhyun. xxx
o0O0o
June 25th, 2003
Dear Jessica,
Surprisingly, today wasn't that boring. Not that something in particular happened but... I don't know. I didn't think about reading a book, so I guess it was fine.
I got up early. As always. And took a shower. (I had to, if you had seen my hair...) It was a quick one, of course. And I wasn't attacked by any insect, spider or squirrel, so that's good. (My mother says nothing will come out of that hole while the water is running, which is quite reassuring. All I have to do is make sure that water is running as soon as the toilet plunger is taken off.)
My mom and Mrs Choi went shopping in town. They asked me if I wanted to come but, you know, I said no. I love shopping (with you), but with my mom (AND another mother), it's not the same. In fact, it's very simply disastrous, she hates what I like and I love what she hates. So, in the end, she lets me buy what I want (she won't pay for it, she would pay if she liked it), but I always feel not-so-confident about my choice, thanks to her comments. It takes me a lot of courage to stay strong and not buy what she suggests! Ugh... I think my mother has a sense of style, but only with girls. No, I'd say women. Maybe men too, because she's the reason why my father doesn't go to work wearing jogging pants with slippers. But teenagers... she has no taste. Really, none.
So I didn't go. Shiwon didn't either. He is polite, but not stupid, apparently. As for my father and Mr Choi, they both went to visit some common acquaintance living in the area.
So I was left alone in the cottage. And Shiwon was left alone in his too, because we both met up on the shore, as we had both decided to take a walk. (Again, I know. I'll so be in shape when I come back.) Having nothing better to do, we walked together. We even got to talk.
Well, okay. I've got to admit. He's quite cool. For a Christian guy, I mean. He's not that boring. Actually, I thought he would be constantly talking about god and how much of a sinner I was, but he didn't mention it once. Not even once. (And God knows I've sinned...) (Or if He doesn't, you do.) We talked about the weather (don't give me that look, it was interesting), the trip, the place, our families... I told him I didn't want to be here, far from my friends, my bed and my dear computer. That seemed to make him laugh. Apparently, he's not addicted to computers (is anyone surprised?), but he can understand my frustration. Or at least, that's what he said. It sounded a bit “I don't care, but I'm polite, so I'll serve you the Poor-little-thing-I-understand speech because I don't know what else to say”, but that's probably only me being cynical. As always.
I also told him about the squirrels in the shower. He laughed again. Damn, he probably thinks I'm a pussy or something. Even if he didn't say it (and certainly never would, he's way too polite for that).
He told me he liked coming here. Which made me look at him as if three other heads had just grown on his back. He laughed again. I should have felt insulted (I always do anyway), but somehow I didn't. I don't know, his laugh didn't sound “You're so stupid I'm laughing at you right in your face”. He's Christian anyway, he can't be mean, right? God wouldn't like it.
He explained that he found school and work (he has a part-time job, how responsible...) very stressful and coming here helped him to calm down. Here, he can breathe again (which I don't really understand, with that smell around here...). He sleeps better, he doesn't have to care about all those responsibilities he has and when he comes back, he's like invigorated.
Oh, and he likes to read. Of course.
But surprisingly, he doesn't read only the bible. (I thought Christians had to be faithful to it.) Actually, he didn't even mention the bible. But he talked about a few books he read (and in some cases, re-read a few times... weirdo) and particularly loved. He told me how he felt while reading those (I seriously didn't think you could feel anything while reading... but apparently he does) and at some point, he talked about them with so much passion (which didn't imply flailing, by the way, just some kind of glint in his eyes) that he almost made me want to read them.
Almost. (Don't die of a heart attack, I said “almost”.)
(I know, I said in the beginning of this letter that I didn't think about reading today, but you know what I meant...)
He also told me that every time he came here (because he comes every summer with his parents), he went to the library in town. He always found something interesting to read. He even suggested to bring me next time he went.
...Well, I'm not sure about it, but I guess I appreciate the suggestion. Maybe I'll go, but won't borrow any book. Going in town could be fun. I would be doing something, at least. (And I would escape that dead fish smell for a few hours.)
So, well, we talked. And I didn't notice how far we went. I only realized we were way farther than where I'd ever been during my previous walks when I saw a little waterfall on our left.
Because there's a cliff right behind the cottages, and on top of this cliff are houses. Civilization. You know, real people, probably laughing at us, stupid people living beneath them without any kind of technology. But we had walked for quite a long time and, even though we were still right beside that cliff, I couldn't see any house or other sign of life up there. Instead, a very small cascade was slowly sliding against the irregular stone, brushing against the faint vegetation that had managed to grow around it, before reaching the ground and tortuously, but still patiently, making its way through the rocks on the shore towards the dark water of the sea.
This was beautiful. Really. Seriously nothing compared the Niagara Falls that Henry guy in our math class told us about (he once showed me pictures, it was quite amazing), but it was... cute? It was very small, really. But looking at it was appeasing, and it seemed way more lively than any other part of the cold stone cliff. We stayed there for a while, sitting on some huge rock on the shore and staring silently at the scenery (I really felt like I was watching a scenery, for once). We didn't talk during that time, we just stared. And after a few minutes, we silently got up and made our way towards the cottages.
But even though we didn't talk on our way back, it didn't feel weird. I guess simply having someone by my side made me feel less lonely. And more at peace (if that's even possible with that damn smell).
Our parents came back for dinner, and they found us playing cards. (Yeah, I know. Cards. See how there's nothing to do?) My mother mocked me a bit, but I just ignored her. Playing cards with Shiwon is way more fun than playing with my parents. Not because it's Shiwon. Just because it's not my parents. This time, it was my mother who invited the Choi family for dinner. We ate spaghetti. (My mother's spaghetti doesn't beat her pancakes, but still, she's a great cook.) Again, I didn't participate in the conversations, but I at least made the effort of listening. (Staring into nothingness was getting old already.)
Dinner ended pretty late, which is not that bad. With the time I took to write this letter, it is now 8:30 pm. Maybe I can find something to do before going to bed early. (I'm getting a lot of sleep, even though I get up early. I guess it's a good thing...)
Anyway, goodbye!
Kyuhyun xxx
o0O0o
June 26th, 2003
Dear Jessica,
Today... was quite interesting.
Did you know Christian people can be muscular? Hell, I didn't. Especially not Shiwon, the neat and tidy, well brought up kid.
Well, I knew he was well-built. After all, he is tall and he has square shoulders but... he really hid his true physique under those nerdy clothes of his.
Before you can imagine anything kinky (don't try protesting, I know you!), I didn't see him naked. Only shirtless. And we weren't alone. My parents, along with Mr and Mrs Choi, were sitting on folding chairs on our courtyard, chatting and gesticulating over uninteresting topics, as they usually did. (I don't understand why adults love to chat that much.) It was particularly sunny outside and, for once, it was warm enough for me to go outside without wearing long sleeves. I was glad to wear a T-shirt (You know, the one we bought together during Christmas holidays? The brown one with the weird blue motif on the right side? Yeah, that one.) and I even think I was smiling when I walked out of the cottage. Sun does that to me. Rain and cloudy skies, on the other hand, make me moody.
I joined them on the front yard and they warmly greeted me (“Oh hey, slept well?” “What are you saying? He must be sleeping well, if he's that handsome.”) (Adults freak me out.) before telling me to sit on the spare chair they had brought. I did as I was told and as soon as I was settled, they were back to talking about the weather. (“It's pretty rare that it is that sunny here. We're very lucky.” “Yeah, but it will be cloudy again tomorrow, I guess.” “Maybe, but I think it's appeasing.” “Oh you think so? I feel like it's depressing.”) I just half-listened, while staring absentmindedly at the waves running aground on the shore, covering a larger part of it every time it did so, showing that the high tide was coming. The rocks that normally emerged from the water were slowly disappearing and I could see, in the horizon, the figures of a few boats benefiting from the sun. (Hey, I almost feel poetic, here!)
(Hum.. almost.)
I was lost in my thoughts when I vaguely heard a door being opened, and then closed. It wasn't loud, the adult's conversation wasn't even disturbed. But my chair was positioned in a way that gave me a better view of the Choi's cottage than every adult surrounding me. I would have completely ignored the door thing if I hadn't perceived movement in the corner of my eye. More out of instinct than curiosity, I turned my head towards the neighboring cottage and... damn, I think my eyes widened even more than they ever did. I can't understand how the adults could ignore the change in my face, but apparently they didn't notice. (Pfft, adults.)
There, on the balcony of the Choi's cottage, was Shiwon. He was pulling on the clothes line that went from the front of the small house to a post situated where the grass ended, right before the gravelly road. There was a white basket right next to his feet and he started taking clothes off the line and putting them in the basket, making sure to fold them neatly before doing so. He was doing that with care, just like he did everything else, actually. (Clean freak..)
But.. he was doing that... shirtless. Which isn't very outrageous coming from a boy but... well, you know. When the guy looks so damn good, it's difficult not to stare. And let me tell you Shiwon was quite something out there. I knew he was well-built, but I didn't think he was that muscular. And... well, sexy.
Seriously, ever since I met Shiwon (I know, it's only been four days, but still), I never thought I would use the word “sexy” to qualify him. And certainly not the word “hot”. But yet, now, I do.
Because, really, you should have been there. I was a bit far, but I definitely could see the clear lines of his bare back, the moving shades caused by his muscles, indicating he must have been working out or something. (Do christian people work out?) And, oh god, his jeans were so low on his lips. And it seems like it got even worse when he turned towards his basket, exposing his delicious abs (Yes, I used the word “delicious”, deal with it.) to my craving eyes.
I definitely had drool at the corner of my mouth. I couldn't tear my eyes of that sight and, as cliché as that sound, it seemed like time slowed down.
Even though it ended too soon for my liking. Mrs Choi probably noticed me staring at their cottage (I just hope she didn't see the drool. If I'm lucky, she thought I was only day dreaming.) and she followed the path my eyes were taking. She saw Shiwon and immediately called his name to draw his attention on her. Those eyes that were previously focused on the clothes were brought to look at us and they widened a bit, as if noticing us for the first time.
His mother reprimanded him with a nice voice, telling him to go put a shirt on. I think my mother made some mocking comment about today's youth, while my father instead commented how he wished he still looked like that (Pfft, as if he ever did), but I didn't really give them any attention because, oh my god, the blush on Shiwon's face... It was priceless. I could see it, even from where I was sitting.
It was cute. Really.
He rushed inside with the basket of clothes, only to come out at least ten or fifteen minutes later, a blue polo shirt covering the source of my previous drooling.
The rest of the day passed without any other main event. But I sincerely think this single event beats the four previous day altogether. Shiwon's really not as boring as I previously thought. If he is to undress again in the following days, this trip might end up being way more interesting than I expected.
(Though I'd be surprised to see him do that again. He seemed really embarrassed out there.)
Anyway...
I think I'll stop here. My mother wants me to help her with the dishes (of course there wouldn't be a dishwasher in there).
“See ya” tomorrow.
Love,
Kyuhyun xxx
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Shiwon
Challenge: 100 suju fic challenge
Theme: 013. Watermelon
Rating: PG-13
Words Count: 15 694 (Yeah... I kind of got into it a bit much... I had to split it into three parts U_U)
Genre: Hum. Crack + Romance/friendship I guess.
Summary: Letters Kyuhyun writes to his best friend, Jessica, while he's off in vacation in an ugly cottage, with his weird parents and boring Christian neighbor.
A/N: Gosh it took me so long. I couldn't wait to finish this XD
But now it's done! :)
Enjoy.
Dear Jessica - Part 1
June 22nd, 2003
Dear Jessica,
I think I erased, scratched, corrected and rewrote these first words about five or six times, just to find the best way to start this letter. “My dear friend” was just too formal, cold and ridiculously polite (and god knows I'm far from being polite, especially in the situation I'm in), while simply writing”Jessica” was a bit harsh, straight-to-the-point and let's-get-it-over-with (and god knows I'm damn good at beating about the bush when I want).
Anyway, I'm not used to writing letters. On actual paper, that is. With an actual pen, that seems to have found a liking in pouring its ink on my fingers, by the way. (Sorry for the little spots on the sheet.) I feel retarded. Really. Who in his right mind would want to be in a place where computers probably aren't even invented yet? Certainly not me. I mean, I know it's a cottage but... COME ON! A computer isn't any kind of luxury or whim. These days, it's a need! You could be dead right now and I wouldn't even know until I'm back home, can you imagine?
(When I gave my parents this argument, they said there had phones in situations like that. Pfft. A phone. So out-of-date.)
(Not that there's a phone in this cottage anyway. That would be too much technology for it to bear. My parents probably meant their cellphones. Which I can't use unless it is an emergency. And a desperate need to hear my best friend's voice doesn't seem to figure in their definition of an emergency...)
We arrived here this afternoon and I already want to leave. There are no computers, but as weird as it might seem, this is not the main reason for my desperate need to leave this place. The minute I stepped out of the car, I knew I would hate this place. (Well, I got this feeling right after I wiped the saliva off the corner of my mouth. You know me, I can't stay awake in long car rides.) The smell was... Jeez, it was horrible. I had to breathe with my mouth because it was too disgusting. I immediately asked my parents, who did not seem bothered in any way by it (pfft, parents), and they told me it smelled of fish.
Let me complete the thought: Dead fish.
Did I tell you we are spending our vacation in a cottage by the sea? Well, as romantic as it sounds... it isn't. This is a place meant for fishermen, not modern teenagers like me. And I can't even go swimming because the water is too dirty with seaweeds and pollution (and dead fish, you got it). It's too cold anyway. I have to walk outside wearing long sleeves! In summer! What kind of a vacation is that?? Normal people travel in warm countries, with the sun, the sea (in which you can swim), the sand...
But my parents prefer wind, dead fish, and old, ugly, dusty cottages. Damn.
I tried proving my point, but convincing them was like passing an exam in Mister Jung's class. Simply impossible.
So here I am, sitting at the dining table to write you a letter, because my room is too small for that. Actually, I truly think they tried to turn a closet into a bedroom. They failed, but were too lazy to turn it back into a closet. There's a bed and three of its ends are against the walls. The bed would have been only a few centimeters longer and it wouldn't fit in. The fourth and last wall is at something like a foot or two from the bed. They managed to put a “closet” between the bed and the fourth wall. By “closet”, I mean a horizontal piece of wood, on which clothes can be hung up, and some blanket hanging in front of it, probably playing the role of a door.
Not to mention that the door of the bedroom is a sliding one, but so old that it can't be closed anymore. I guess I could close it if I really tried, but I'd be too scared of never being able to open it back afterwards. So I let it be.
That means no intimacy. Not that I have so much to hide from my parents but.. still. I'd like not to be watched all the time. Especially since my mother is trying to read over my shoulder right now and I truly hope she reads this sentence so that she knows I hate it when she does that. She knows I'm writing to you. I'm pretty sure she thinks we're together or something. For her, friendship between boys and girls is a pretext to find a date. Ever since the day I mentioned you were my best friend, she seems to believe it was a subtle way of telling her I was engaged, getting married next week and making her grandmother in a few months. Right...
(And she's rubbing off on my father. Did I tell you he bought me condoms last week??? It came with a father-to-son conversation about sex and safety. Gosh, I think I never felt this ashamed in my entire life. I'm fifteen! I know how babies are made - my mother made sure of that when I turned nine or something. My parents are too open-minded for my own good. The condoms are somewhere in the drawer of my bedside table and I think it will stay there forever. When I'll have sex, I don't think I would use those. Too traumatizing. To think that my father bought them for me. Or that my parents might be thinking about me having sex. Or worse. Me having sex with you. Ugh.)
(No offense but... Ugh. You probably feel the same anyway.)
(I don't know how my parents would react if I told them I'm not exactly interested in girls. Well, I know they aren't homophobic, they told me I-don't-know-how-many times that if I ever discovered that I was gay, they would accept me, no matter what. But I don't really think they do this because they know I am. They're just like that. They would accept it, I guess, but I don't feel like telling them. Not something I wish to discuss with them. I know they would end up talking about sex again, wanting me to be informed, know what to expect when “the time” comes. Urgh. Way too open-minded for my own good.)
(But I already told you all that so many times. I'm rambling, as always.)
So... well. It's the evening and... it's boring. Nothing to do. My mother suggested we play cards, but I gave her the “you're-kidding-me-right?” look, which led her to play with my father instead. They're having too much fun playing this stupid game, they're so into it. They scream and throw their arms in the air when they win. Really. I'm ashamed.
My mother also suggested I read a book... Me. Reading. A book. I know you're laughing while reading this. I am while writing this. (My mother's throwing me a curious glance. But I'm lucky, she's not asking.)
Tomorrow, my parents' friends will arrive. I told you this was a trip they organized with a couple they used to work with and kept contact with, right? Well, I never really met them. But it seems like they have a son about my age. My parents are convinced we'll be friends before the end of the week. Because adults are like that: they think the age does everything. Us, teenagers, make friends with anyone our age we meet.
Right.
I just hope he's not too boring. Because we're supposed to be here for two weeks, and if his parents are like mine, they'll make sure we both spend all of our time together. And it's not like I would have much better things to do...
Anyway, I think I'll stop now. I'll go to sleep. It's only ten in the evening, but I'm exhausted. And I'm bored.
I'll post this letter tomorrow morning. (Because yes, I'll be up early. My parents will make sure of that, so that I really benefit from this trip...) I'll try to write every day. Which means you'll probably receive my last letters a few days after I'm back. But that way, I'm sure I won't forget to tell you something.
So, well. Good bye, sweetheart.
(My mother should never read this, she would see it as a confirmation of the arrival of her grandchildren.)
Kyuhyun. xxx
o0O0o
June 23rd, 2003
Dear Jessica,
Day two of this trip that my parents already dared to qualify as “fun” at least 13 times. I seriously can't see what is supposed to be “fun” in this. I'm not yet at 48 hours without using a computer, but I already feel bored to no end. I need technology...
Well, let me tell you the story of my oh-so-exciting day. (Feel the sarcasm here.)
I got up at 9 am. Yeah, I know, that's pretty unusual, but my parents are morning people, and it seems like they want me to be one too. Ever since the clock showed 7:48 am, I could hear noises coming from the kitchen. And since my room (with the door that can't be closed) is right next to it, I was quite disturbed in my sleep. I could even see, in the few times I half-opened my eyes to check if I was still dreaming, the blurry figures of my parents going from one end to the other of the kitchen. My vision wasn't yet adapted to reality, but I knew everything they did, only with sounds. A drawer being opened, the clinking of metal utensils being grabbed, a drawer being closed, steps, the opening of a cupboard, a frying pan hitting the wood of the cupboard as it was clumsily taken. Eventually, the “pshhht” of food being laid in the frying pan and the “flok flok” of a spoon or fork mixing something in a bowl.
My mom made pancakes. The only advantage of getting up early, I've got to say. My mother's pancakes are like heavenly sent gifts. Sweet and mellow, it melts in your mouth. Did you ever taste them? You should, one day. They're the best pancakes a mom could ever do. No one does them like my mother. (Even though I'd never admit it in her face. I still have my teenager pride to protect. I'm not supposed to adore my mother's cooking.)
Once I was finished eating breakfast, I was bored. Really. I got dressed, I made sure my hair wasn't too messy, I went to sit on the couch and... I had nothing to do. I looked around the place and noticed a few ugly things probably meant to be seen as “decoration”. There is that... thing. I don't know, it is like a painting, but sewed. A painting without paint, some woman (because I can't imagine the fisherman who owns the place doing this, even though I never saw him) sewed the image of a dog in a square piece of cloth, put it in a frame and hung it on the wall.
It's ugly. It simply is. As cute as the dog might be, with the little sweater and hat it is wearing... it is so far from fashionable, it hurts the eye.
There are grandmother-style vases and dusty trinkets everywhere, adding to the bad taste of it all. Not to mention the worn-out couch (it's brown and orange, can you imagine?) and damaged wooden pieces of furniture. Seriously, I don't want to meet the person who did this. An insult to style and taste. Shame on her. (Or him. Because it's so ugly, it could be a fisherman who designed it.)
(I seriously can't imagine a fisherman having good taste in house design.)
After a few minutes of staring, I decided to take a shower. The only occupation I could find. So I went to the bathroom, closed the door, undressed, stepped in the shower, turned the handle for hot water... and was violently attacked by freezing water. Really, it wasn't cold, it was freezing to the point it almost burnt. I don't really feel proud, but at that moment, all I could manage to do was rush out of the shower with a very, very unmanly shriek. My parents, of course, heard it, and it took only a few seconds before I heard my mother's voice on the other side of the door asking me if everything was alright.
Shame.
I'm already lucky there's a shower in there. Hot water appears to be too much of a whim. (I managed to get something near tepid after about five minutes of waiting outside the shower. Let me tell you I took a very quick shower.)
Oh, and I didn't tell you that! When we arrived yesterday, there was a toilet plunger in the shower, right over the hole meant to evacuate the water. My parents told me it was to keep insects, spiders and squirrels from coming inside the house through that hole.
...Ugh. I hate country houses. Especially this one. It's old, extremely small and ugly. It looks like it's made of sheet metal, and the water infiltrates the ceiling when it's is raining. There's a dark spot on the ceiling in the kitchen area (because the kitchen, dining room and living room are all in one room), and there's a bucket in the closet just in case. The renting wasn't very expensive, you guessed right.
...What the hell am I doing here?
After the shower, I was back on the couch with nothing to do apart from looking at the deserted gravelly road, gray shore and dark water from the pretty big window on the wall next to the couch. My mother suggested we take a walk. I first refused categorically (Pfft, a walk), but after a few minutes, I halfheartedly put my pride aside and went back to her, saying it wasn't that much of a bad idea. I was so damn bored. And at least, my mother was happy she could spend time with me. (She says I'm always locking myself up in my room when we're at home. Pfft, I'm not that bad...)
She talked the whole walk through. I don't think she paused one single time to catch her breath. I think she was trying to make up for lost time. (Again because of the 'locking myself in my room' thing. Come on, it's not like I've been missing for the past few years. I just need my privacy, can't she understand that? I think every teenager needs that.) She said a lot of things, but I can't quite remember what those things were, as I only half-listened and instead looked at the “scenery”. If it could be called that. A pitiful and disappointing one, but still a scenery, I guess. Something to look at, at least.
We eventually came back at the cottage, my mom still rambling about god-knows-what, and we saw a red car in the courtyard next to “ours” (the place is rented, it's not really ours). A car that hadn't been there when we left, I was pretty sure of that. It couldn't have suddenly appeared, just like that, out of the blue? Someone was there but... I couldn't see anyone around. Only a car.
We had barely laid our eyes on the mysterious red vehicle when a tall and well-built man, whose dark hair was strewed with greyish locks, came out of the small neighboring cottage, quickly followed by a smaller woman who could only be his wife. They seemed to be about my parents' age. In their advanced forties or something.
As soon as they showed themselves, my mother quickly walked to them to offer her greetings. She hugged the woman and shook the man's hand in a friendly way, smiling, talking and greeting all the same time. I think it was at that specific moment that I understood they were the friends and former colleagues I had been told of. Especially when my mother came back to me, grabbed my arm (pretty harshly) and literally dragged me to the couple, presenting me as her son.
The rest was foreseeable. High-pitched shouts about how much of a gorgeous young man I had become (apparently, they met me when I was a baby) and how my mother should be proud (she was, don't worry), hands on my shoulders, face, cheeks (that were even pinched a few times)... All this animation alerted my father, who came out of our rented cottage and joined us, hugging and shaking hands like my mother had just done. The newcomers repeated the comments they had just made about me to my father, whose chest inflated with pride.
I felt like a circus attraction.
But it was at that very moment that the door of the neighboring cottage opened, a tall, young and quite handsome guy stepping out of it. He seemed to be heading for the car, but he stopped in his tracks as soon as he noticed the “crowd” on their courtyard. He stayed there, in the stairs of the balcony, for a short moment, simply throwing us a curious glance, but the couple (his parents, obviously) beckoned him to join them so that he could meet friends of theirs. It certainly implied going through the same torture I had just endured, but he casually walked to us, wearing a polite smile, visibly aimed at my parents. The couple presented him as their son (I was right) and my parents repeated the same process the other couple had went through with me just a moment ago. (“Oh, but he's a man, now! Look at him! He's handsome!”)
After a few minutes of contemplation and philosophy (“Time goes by so fast! It feels like yesterday, I was holding my little baby Kyuhyun in my arms!”), the attention was back on me, as they presented me to that guy. For the first time since his arrival, he laid his eyes on me and smiled. (And okay, I've got to admit, he has some hell of a gorgeous smile.)
So I met Shiwon. He's tall, well-built, but a bit stiff. And he hides under nerdy clothes. From what I understood, he's seventeen years old. Which is surprising, he looks way older than that. I thought he was like, twenty or something. He looks a lot like his father, but I think he's a little bit taller and, of course, he looks more in shape. And he has those eyebrows... I tell you, you can't even imagine them unless you've seen them. They're... so... thick! His father has thick eyebrows but... Shiwon's are so much more... there!! It's really funny, you should see that!
Oh, yeah, and I almost forgot... Shiwon's Christian. But I mean... a real one! You know, with the perfectly ironed pants and the gray slipper? Tidy hair. Polite smile. If he had glasses, the picture would have been perfect. I had to listen to a conversation our parents had (I couldn't find any way to escape subtly) and I learned they go to church every week. “They” including Shiwon, apparently. I didn't think people under the age of fifty could go to church these days. I'm quite amazed. And I'm pretty sure he prays before going to bed. He probably carries a bible in his suitcase. It wouldn't be surprising, he's a well brought up kid. Polite, helpful, nice. He even participated in the boring conversation the adults were having. My parents are already in love with him. He's like the perfect kid. Pfft. I just hope my parents won't start regretting having such a moody teenager as a son, thinking they didn't raise me the right way. (Though if this made them keep their sexual life for themselves, I wouldn't mind. They want me to know there is no shame with sexuality but... still... I don't want to know they have sex. Damn, they're my parents!)
(I'm pretty sure Shiwon's parents don't talk about this kind of things. Which might explain why he's so straight. Meaning he's kinda stiff, not that he's heterosexual... Even though he certainly IS heterosexual: he's Christian!)
(It's weird that my parents, such open-minded people, are friends with a religious and probably conservative family. I guess they just don't talk about sex together. If that family knew those things my parents tell me...)
Anyway, I think I'll stop writing now, dinner is about to be ready. So, I'll “see you” tomorrow! (Meaning I'll write to you tomorrow. Even though you won't receive this letter until at least a few days...)
Bye!
Kyuhyun xxx
o0O0o
June 24th, 2003
Dear Jessica,
Another boring day. Yup, yet another one. And it's only the third... out of fourteen.
I woke up early again. But there weren't pancakes, I had to eat cereals. And boring ones, on top of all. (I know I'm being immature, but I would have liked to have Froot Loops or Lucky Charms. I got none of that, I had to eat Corn Flakes. Can you find any brand that's as bland as this? Even Rice Crispies would have sounded better...)
I didn't take a shower. I'll take one tomorrow...
I took a walk. Alone, this time, because my mother was busy chatting with Mrs Choi. She suggested we take a walk all three of us, but I said I preferred going alone. I wouldn't have stood listening to their never-ending talking. My mother's rambling is boring enough, the conversations of two mature women would have killed me.
The men went fishing today. But I didn't go. Not that I am not a man, I was invited after all, but I refused. I hate fishing. (If you were there, you'd probably tell me that I'm not helping my bored situation, saying no to every suggestion, but I really don't like fishing. And if you were there, I wouldn't be bored.) So Shiwon, his father and mine went fishing on a small boat. Wearing fishermen attires. (You know, those repulsive black rubber boots, loose pants and old worn out long-sleeved T-shirts with ugly orange life jackets on it. With of course fishing rods in hands, little ugly hats on their heads and boxes probably containing fish-hooks and... ugh... worms. I thought Shiwon was quite handsome, but this attire was the best turn-off I've ever seen.)
I watched them from the shore for a while, until my father saw me in the distance and waved at me. I instantly turned around and went back to the cottage, not wanting them to think I regretted my decision of not coming (which I didn't, I was just thinking about how stupid they looked). I sincerely preferred listening to my mother and Mrs Choi's meaningless chatting than exposing myself to a pity that had no reason to be.
They came back a few hours later (how they managed to stand hours sitting in a pitching boat truly amazed me), showing their few “trophies” (two small fishes, to be precise) with pride. (My father was proud too, even though he was the one that didn't catch any. He still helped a lot, according to Shiwon. That damn polite idiot. He's already getting on my nerves, with his neat and tidy looks. Even while wearing his ugly fisherman's attire, he managed to look well educated.)
The Choi family invited us for dinner. We ate fish, of course. But more than half of the meal was made with fish Mrs Choi had previously bought. (Two fishes aren't enough for six people, it's a commonly known fact, especially when teenagers are around.) (Even though Shiwon ate a reasonable portion and with more class than I did. Come on! He is a teenager, just like me, but he eats neatly while I eat like a pig. I would have felt ashamed, if my father hadn't been just like me. Like father like son, as they say.)
Anyway, I didn't really participate in the conversations, as always. I just ate and stared blankly into nothingness until we finally came back home. It was then that I started writing this. It's only 6:30 pm and I really don't know what I'm going to do with all this time left.
Maybe I really should think about reading... (see what this is doing to me!?)
Anyway... I'll write tomorrow. I don't have anything else to say.
Love,
Kyuhyun. xxx
o0O0o
June 25th, 2003
Dear Jessica,
Surprisingly, today wasn't that boring. Not that something in particular happened but... I don't know. I didn't think about reading a book, so I guess it was fine.
I got up early. As always. And took a shower. (I had to, if you had seen my hair...) It was a quick one, of course. And I wasn't attacked by any insect, spider or squirrel, so that's good. (My mother says nothing will come out of that hole while the water is running, which is quite reassuring. All I have to do is make sure that water is running as soon as the toilet plunger is taken off.)
My mom and Mrs Choi went shopping in town. They asked me if I wanted to come but, you know, I said no. I love shopping (with you), but with my mom (AND another mother), it's not the same. In fact, it's very simply disastrous, she hates what I like and I love what she hates. So, in the end, she lets me buy what I want (she won't pay for it, she would pay if she liked it), but I always feel not-so-confident about my choice, thanks to her comments. It takes me a lot of courage to stay strong and not buy what she suggests! Ugh... I think my mother has a sense of style, but only with girls. No, I'd say women. Maybe men too, because she's the reason why my father doesn't go to work wearing jogging pants with slippers. But teenagers... she has no taste. Really, none.
So I didn't go. Shiwon didn't either. He is polite, but not stupid, apparently. As for my father and Mr Choi, they both went to visit some common acquaintance living in the area.
So I was left alone in the cottage. And Shiwon was left alone in his too, because we both met up on the shore, as we had both decided to take a walk. (Again, I know. I'll so be in shape when I come back.) Having nothing better to do, we walked together. We even got to talk.
Well, okay. I've got to admit. He's quite cool. For a Christian guy, I mean. He's not that boring. Actually, I thought he would be constantly talking about god and how much of a sinner I was, but he didn't mention it once. Not even once. (And God knows I've sinned...) (Or if He doesn't, you do.) We talked about the weather (don't give me that look, it was interesting), the trip, the place, our families... I told him I didn't want to be here, far from my friends, my bed and my dear computer. That seemed to make him laugh. Apparently, he's not addicted to computers (is anyone surprised?), but he can understand my frustration. Or at least, that's what he said. It sounded a bit “I don't care, but I'm polite, so I'll serve you the Poor-little-thing-I-understand speech because I don't know what else to say”, but that's probably only me being cynical. As always.
I also told him about the squirrels in the shower. He laughed again. Damn, he probably thinks I'm a pussy or something. Even if he didn't say it (and certainly never would, he's way too polite for that).
He told me he liked coming here. Which made me look at him as if three other heads had just grown on his back. He laughed again. I should have felt insulted (I always do anyway), but somehow I didn't. I don't know, his laugh didn't sound “You're so stupid I'm laughing at you right in your face”. He's Christian anyway, he can't be mean, right? God wouldn't like it.
He explained that he found school and work (he has a part-time job, how responsible...) very stressful and coming here helped him to calm down. Here, he can breathe again (which I don't really understand, with that smell around here...). He sleeps better, he doesn't have to care about all those responsibilities he has and when he comes back, he's like invigorated.
Oh, and he likes to read. Of course.
But surprisingly, he doesn't read only the bible. (I thought Christians had to be faithful to it.) Actually, he didn't even mention the bible. But he talked about a few books he read (and in some cases, re-read a few times... weirdo) and particularly loved. He told me how he felt while reading those (I seriously didn't think you could feel anything while reading... but apparently he does) and at some point, he talked about them with so much passion (which didn't imply flailing, by the way, just some kind of glint in his eyes) that he almost made me want to read them.
Almost. (Don't die of a heart attack, I said “almost”.)
(I know, I said in the beginning of this letter that I didn't think about reading today, but you know what I meant...)
He also told me that every time he came here (because he comes every summer with his parents), he went to the library in town. He always found something interesting to read. He even suggested to bring me next time he went.
...Well, I'm not sure about it, but I guess I appreciate the suggestion. Maybe I'll go, but won't borrow any book. Going in town could be fun. I would be doing something, at least. (And I would escape that dead fish smell for a few hours.)
So, well, we talked. And I didn't notice how far we went. I only realized we were way farther than where I'd ever been during my previous walks when I saw a little waterfall on our left.
Because there's a cliff right behind the cottages, and on top of this cliff are houses. Civilization. You know, real people, probably laughing at us, stupid people living beneath them without any kind of technology. But we had walked for quite a long time and, even though we were still right beside that cliff, I couldn't see any house or other sign of life up there. Instead, a very small cascade was slowly sliding against the irregular stone, brushing against the faint vegetation that had managed to grow around it, before reaching the ground and tortuously, but still patiently, making its way through the rocks on the shore towards the dark water of the sea.
This was beautiful. Really. Seriously nothing compared the Niagara Falls that Henry guy in our math class told us about (he once showed me pictures, it was quite amazing), but it was... cute? It was very small, really. But looking at it was appeasing, and it seemed way more lively than any other part of the cold stone cliff. We stayed there for a while, sitting on some huge rock on the shore and staring silently at the scenery (I really felt like I was watching a scenery, for once). We didn't talk during that time, we just stared. And after a few minutes, we silently got up and made our way towards the cottages.
But even though we didn't talk on our way back, it didn't feel weird. I guess simply having someone by my side made me feel less lonely. And more at peace (if that's even possible with that damn smell).
Our parents came back for dinner, and they found us playing cards. (Yeah, I know. Cards. See how there's nothing to do?) My mother mocked me a bit, but I just ignored her. Playing cards with Shiwon is way more fun than playing with my parents. Not because it's Shiwon. Just because it's not my parents. This time, it was my mother who invited the Choi family for dinner. We ate spaghetti. (My mother's spaghetti doesn't beat her pancakes, but still, she's a great cook.) Again, I didn't participate in the conversations, but I at least made the effort of listening. (Staring into nothingness was getting old already.)
Dinner ended pretty late, which is not that bad. With the time I took to write this letter, it is now 8:30 pm. Maybe I can find something to do before going to bed early. (I'm getting a lot of sleep, even though I get up early. I guess it's a good thing...)
Anyway, goodbye!
Kyuhyun xxx
o0O0o
June 26th, 2003
Dear Jessica,
Today... was quite interesting.
Did you know Christian people can be muscular? Hell, I didn't. Especially not Shiwon, the neat and tidy, well brought up kid.
Well, I knew he was well-built. After all, he is tall and he has square shoulders but... he really hid his true physique under those nerdy clothes of his.
Before you can imagine anything kinky (don't try protesting, I know you!), I didn't see him naked. Only shirtless. And we weren't alone. My parents, along with Mr and Mrs Choi, were sitting on folding chairs on our courtyard, chatting and gesticulating over uninteresting topics, as they usually did. (I don't understand why adults love to chat that much.) It was particularly sunny outside and, for once, it was warm enough for me to go outside without wearing long sleeves. I was glad to wear a T-shirt (You know, the one we bought together during Christmas holidays? The brown one with the weird blue motif on the right side? Yeah, that one.) and I even think I was smiling when I walked out of the cottage. Sun does that to me. Rain and cloudy skies, on the other hand, make me moody.
I joined them on the front yard and they warmly greeted me (“Oh hey, slept well?” “What are you saying? He must be sleeping well, if he's that handsome.”) (Adults freak me out.) before telling me to sit on the spare chair they had brought. I did as I was told and as soon as I was settled, they were back to talking about the weather. (“It's pretty rare that it is that sunny here. We're very lucky.” “Yeah, but it will be cloudy again tomorrow, I guess.” “Maybe, but I think it's appeasing.” “Oh you think so? I feel like it's depressing.”) I just half-listened, while staring absentmindedly at the waves running aground on the shore, covering a larger part of it every time it did so, showing that the high tide was coming. The rocks that normally emerged from the water were slowly disappearing and I could see, in the horizon, the figures of a few boats benefiting from the sun. (Hey, I almost feel poetic, here!)
(Hum.. almost.)
I was lost in my thoughts when I vaguely heard a door being opened, and then closed. It wasn't loud, the adult's conversation wasn't even disturbed. But my chair was positioned in a way that gave me a better view of the Choi's cottage than every adult surrounding me. I would have completely ignored the door thing if I hadn't perceived movement in the corner of my eye. More out of instinct than curiosity, I turned my head towards the neighboring cottage and... damn, I think my eyes widened even more than they ever did. I can't understand how the adults could ignore the change in my face, but apparently they didn't notice. (Pfft, adults.)
There, on the balcony of the Choi's cottage, was Shiwon. He was pulling on the clothes line that went from the front of the small house to a post situated where the grass ended, right before the gravelly road. There was a white basket right next to his feet and he started taking clothes off the line and putting them in the basket, making sure to fold them neatly before doing so. He was doing that with care, just like he did everything else, actually. (Clean freak..)
But.. he was doing that... shirtless. Which isn't very outrageous coming from a boy but... well, you know. When the guy looks so damn good, it's difficult not to stare. And let me tell you Shiwon was quite something out there. I knew he was well-built, but I didn't think he was that muscular. And... well, sexy.
Seriously, ever since I met Shiwon (I know, it's only been four days, but still), I never thought I would use the word “sexy” to qualify him. And certainly not the word “hot”. But yet, now, I do.
Because, really, you should have been there. I was a bit far, but I definitely could see the clear lines of his bare back, the moving shades caused by his muscles, indicating he must have been working out or something. (Do christian people work out?) And, oh god, his jeans were so low on his lips. And it seems like it got even worse when he turned towards his basket, exposing his delicious abs (Yes, I used the word “delicious”, deal with it.) to my craving eyes.
I definitely had drool at the corner of my mouth. I couldn't tear my eyes of that sight and, as cliché as that sound, it seemed like time slowed down.
Even though it ended too soon for my liking. Mrs Choi probably noticed me staring at their cottage (I just hope she didn't see the drool. If I'm lucky, she thought I was only day dreaming.) and she followed the path my eyes were taking. She saw Shiwon and immediately called his name to draw his attention on her. Those eyes that were previously focused on the clothes were brought to look at us and they widened a bit, as if noticing us for the first time.
His mother reprimanded him with a nice voice, telling him to go put a shirt on. I think my mother made some mocking comment about today's youth, while my father instead commented how he wished he still looked like that (Pfft, as if he ever did), but I didn't really give them any attention because, oh my god, the blush on Shiwon's face... It was priceless. I could see it, even from where I was sitting.
It was cute. Really.
He rushed inside with the basket of clothes, only to come out at least ten or fifteen minutes later, a blue polo shirt covering the source of my previous drooling.
The rest of the day passed without any other main event. But I sincerely think this single event beats the four previous day altogether. Shiwon's really not as boring as I previously thought. If he is to undress again in the following days, this trip might end up being way more interesting than I expected.
(Though I'd be surprised to see him do that again. He seemed really embarrassed out there.)
Anyway...
I think I'll stop here. My mother wants me to help her with the dishes (of course there wouldn't be a dishwasher in there).
“See ya” tomorrow.
Love,
Kyuhyun xxx