de_hana the beginning
ATTENTION: I've made a community for this story, and I'm going to update weekly and post everything chronologically (finally). The reason I made a community for de_hana is that the story involves a lot more characters than just 2PM, and I can't post important chunks of story on 
because some of it doesn't focus on 2PM boys, but Rain, DBSK or other characters instead *sad face*
So if you want to keep following the story or just read silently (I know there are some silent readers), then please join the community, because I will NOT be posting de_hana on
anymore, even if it involved 2PM. The membership is open to everyone :)
Here:
Thank you ^^
The Beginning
Throngs of memories float out through the fog, but just few are related to a life from further away, and the first word that comes to mind is… pond. A pond, an early morning and a bunch of little kids flocked around it, squatting with their arms around their bruised knees, watching the calm water surface, listening to the frogs croak. At least the surface is calm until one of the boys grabs the stick lying nearby and starts thrashing it over the closest water lily leaf floundering next to him.
The frogs are scared shitless and they spring away into various directions, but one must have a terrible sense of coordination, because it jumps right into a lap of one of the girls. There goes peace and quiet. The girl is screaming, the boys are yelling and two kids just meet each other’s eye and start giggling silently among each other. And they keep on giggling. A girl and a boy. She’s not scared of frogs, she finds it funny and she’s so small that the boy, who is two years younger, looks almost like an older brother to her. That is… he would look like it if they weren’t so different.
And they need to go now, because they’ve crept out of their homes before dawn without their parents knowing it. And city kids are bound to various accidents in the rural area, aren’t they? So, once they set the frightened girl free of the frog, the whole group sets off down the winding narrow path back into the village. Surroundings are veiled in bluish green, because the sun’s not up yet. Hilly terraces are full of cabbage-like vegetable growing there and she’d really love to run down along the rows, but she wouldn’t dare, it’s not her home, the rules are different here and she doesn’t know the language, but the boy doesn’t care - it’s interesting simply being with her.
Once they run into a block of traditional one-story houses the kids scatter still quaking with their heads off. Some are climbing over stone walls, some are squirming through under the wooden gate. He’s about to duck through the dog hole himself (it’s more fun this way), but he looks back at the nearby house just in case. The girl stands at the gate, looking back at the hilly path with her grayish eyebrows slightly furrowed. The boy angles his head and utters without even giving it a second though:
“누나, 그냥 집에 가세요.”
Nuna, keunyang jibe kaseyo - Nuna, just go home.
She turns back blinking and, noticing the owner of the voice, she offers him a shy smile.
“Aš gal jau eisiu namo,“ she says. (I might go home now.)
He purses his lips worried.
“우리 말을 몰라요, 그죠?”
Uri mareul mollayo, keujyo? - You don’t know our language, right?
“Nesuprantu, ką sakai. Nemoku dar,“ she shuffles her feet miserably, drawing circles on the ground which are not exactly round (I don’t understand you. I don’t know yet.)
He sighs and peers at the house. He listens prick-eared, trying to determine whether the grandma has waken yet. If so, he’s screwed.
“제 이름은 택이에요,” he introduces himself, thumping his small fist onto his chest. “택.”
Je ireumeun Taekieyo. Taec. - My name is Taec.
She pulls a friendly smile and her round little face becomes even rounder. Two milk-teeth are missing in the lower grid. She puts her hand to her chest.
“Lina.”
His grin is so wide it’s probably possible to count all of his 20 kiddie teeth, and his eyes narrow into two sparkling crescents. She cups her mouth with her hand, so she wouldn’t burst into giggles.
“내일 또 봐요,” he waves opening the gate.
Naeil tto bwayo. - See you tomorrow.
“Ate, iki rytojaus,” she squeaks, swaying back and forth. (Bye, see you tomorrow).
And it repeats every single day. Every single year. Every single summer. Until almost no secrets remain. Until she’s totally fluent in his language, and he understands a word or two in that weird bird dialect of hers. He spends there his summer and winder holidays, and she shows up only in summer, because he knows that in winter Lina’s parents takes her back somewhere in the Middle-earth, somewhere in the middle of East and West to spend Christmas at some god forgotten snowy grange into the middle of forests.
Taec would like her to be here in winter too, because summers are terribly rainy and almost every day they have to wade through huge puddles dressed in high top rain boots and colourful rain coats, and Lina laughs, because Taec’s rain coat is brighter than a carrot, but he retorts it doesn’t look like a camouflage unlike her greyish blue outfit and he would never be run over by a car. Lina snaps back that the only thing that could run one over in this hilly village is a postman on a bicycle.
Taec would love to see her in winter too, but Lina likes rain and he doesn’t get mad, when she trips him over and the boy bathes in a muddy puddle. He doesn’t get mad, because he manages to catch the end of Lina’s rain coat in his fall and she flops down right next to him. And they laugh. Their laughter is so loud they scare the rain-drenched postman, who’s slowly pushing his bike up the hill.
He’s twelve. She’s fourteen. And it’s their last summer, because Lina’s dad gets transferred by his workplace into another corner of the earth, and Taec’s parents are emigrating into the West…
“… although technically we’re gonna fly East, so it’s a paradox, huh?” he shrugs and hugs his bony knees, pulling his legs close to himself.
It’s one of those rare days when the sun is shining, rain’s no where to be seen, and they sit on the edge of a winding gravel road, right on the scarp in front of a huge agricultural terrace. It has rice and the rows of that vegetable that Lina still wants to run through, but she still doesn’t dare.
Taec knows the rows remind her of the cabbage seedling fields she had once seen in her grandfather’s farm a long time ago, when she was three or four years old. He looks right and eyes her from from head to toes. His eyes then stop at her knees. Her bruised knees. Her knees had their own share of so many bruises every single year he’s surprised there are basically no scars left. Just one or two which would require a close examination to get noticed really.
“You did it again,” he declares. Lina turns to face him and, following his gaze, she pulls down her skirt with a smile on her lips.
“Kol ženysiuos sugis,” she blurts out in her bird language. (It’ll heal until my wedding).
But Taec’s heard this phrase too many times not to know what it means. He’s not quite sure the hell’s wrong with him, when he suddenly grumbles:
“그럼... 누나, 난 안되겠니?”
Keureom… nuna, nan andawegenni? - Then… nuna, I wouldn’t do?
THE REST AT de_hana COMMUNITY
because some of it doesn't focus on 2PM boys, but Rain, DBSK or other characters instead *sad face*
So if you want to keep following the story or just read silently (I know there are some silent readers), then please join the community, because I will NOT be posting de_hana on
anymore, even if it involved 2PM. The membership is open to everyone :)
Here:
Thank you ^^
The Beginning
Throngs of memories float out through the fog, but just few are related to a life from further away, and the first word that comes to mind is… pond. A pond, an early morning and a bunch of little kids flocked around it, squatting with their arms around their bruised knees, watching the calm water surface, listening to the frogs croak. At least the surface is calm until one of the boys grabs the stick lying nearby and starts thrashing it over the closest water lily leaf floundering next to him.
The frogs are scared shitless and they spring away into various directions, but one must have a terrible sense of coordination, because it jumps right into a lap of one of the girls. There goes peace and quiet. The girl is screaming, the boys are yelling and two kids just meet each other’s eye and start giggling silently among each other. And they keep on giggling. A girl and a boy. She’s not scared of frogs, she finds it funny and she’s so small that the boy, who is two years younger, looks almost like an older brother to her. That is… he would look like it if they weren’t so different.
And they need to go now, because they’ve crept out of their homes before dawn without their parents knowing it. And city kids are bound to various accidents in the rural area, aren’t they? So, once they set the frightened girl free of the frog, the whole group sets off down the winding narrow path back into the village. Surroundings are veiled in bluish green, because the sun’s not up yet. Hilly terraces are full of cabbage-like vegetable growing there and she’d really love to run down along the rows, but she wouldn’t dare, it’s not her home, the rules are different here and she doesn’t know the language, but the boy doesn’t care - it’s interesting simply being with her.
Once they run into a block of traditional one-story houses the kids scatter still quaking with their heads off. Some are climbing over stone walls, some are squirming through under the wooden gate. He’s about to duck through the dog hole himself (it’s more fun this way), but he looks back at the nearby house just in case. The girl stands at the gate, looking back at the hilly path with her grayish eyebrows slightly furrowed. The boy angles his head and utters without even giving it a second though:
“누나, 그냥 집에 가세요.”
Nuna, keunyang jibe kaseyo - Nuna, just go home.
She turns back blinking and, noticing the owner of the voice, she offers him a shy smile.
“Aš gal jau eisiu namo,“ she says. (I might go home now.)
He purses his lips worried.
“우리 말을 몰라요, 그죠?”
Uri mareul mollayo, keujyo? - You don’t know our language, right?
“Nesuprantu, ką sakai. Nemoku dar,“ she shuffles her feet miserably, drawing circles on the ground which are not exactly round (I don’t understand you. I don’t know yet.)
He sighs and peers at the house. He listens prick-eared, trying to determine whether the grandma has waken yet. If so, he’s screwed.
“제 이름은 택이에요,” he introduces himself, thumping his small fist onto his chest. “택.”
Je ireumeun Taekieyo. Taec. - My name is Taec.
She pulls a friendly smile and her round little face becomes even rounder. Two milk-teeth are missing in the lower grid. She puts her hand to her chest.
“Lina.”
His grin is so wide it’s probably possible to count all of his 20 kiddie teeth, and his eyes narrow into two sparkling crescents. She cups her mouth with her hand, so she wouldn’t burst into giggles.
“내일 또 봐요,” he waves opening the gate.
Naeil tto bwayo. - See you tomorrow.
“Ate, iki rytojaus,” she squeaks, swaying back and forth. (Bye, see you tomorrow).
And it repeats every single day. Every single year. Every single summer. Until almost no secrets remain. Until she’s totally fluent in his language, and he understands a word or two in that weird bird dialect of hers. He spends there his summer and winder holidays, and she shows up only in summer, because he knows that in winter Lina’s parents takes her back somewhere in the Middle-earth, somewhere in the middle of East and West to spend Christmas at some god forgotten snowy grange into the middle of forests.
Taec would like her to be here in winter too, because summers are terribly rainy and almost every day they have to wade through huge puddles dressed in high top rain boots and colourful rain coats, and Lina laughs, because Taec’s rain coat is brighter than a carrot, but he retorts it doesn’t look like a camouflage unlike her greyish blue outfit and he would never be run over by a car. Lina snaps back that the only thing that could run one over in this hilly village is a postman on a bicycle.
Taec would love to see her in winter too, but Lina likes rain and he doesn’t get mad, when she trips him over and the boy bathes in a muddy puddle. He doesn’t get mad, because he manages to catch the end of Lina’s rain coat in his fall and she flops down right next to him. And they laugh. Their laughter is so loud they scare the rain-drenched postman, who’s slowly pushing his bike up the hill.
He’s twelve. She’s fourteen. And it’s their last summer, because Lina’s dad gets transferred by his workplace into another corner of the earth, and Taec’s parents are emigrating into the West…
“… although technically we’re gonna fly East, so it’s a paradox, huh?” he shrugs and hugs his bony knees, pulling his legs close to himself.
It’s one of those rare days when the sun is shining, rain’s no where to be seen, and they sit on the edge of a winding gravel road, right on the scarp in front of a huge agricultural terrace. It has rice and the rows of that vegetable that Lina still wants to run through, but she still doesn’t dare.
Taec knows the rows remind her of the cabbage seedling fields she had once seen in her grandfather’s farm a long time ago, when she was three or four years old. He looks right and eyes her from from head to toes. His eyes then stop at her knees. Her bruised knees. Her knees had their own share of so many bruises every single year he’s surprised there are basically no scars left. Just one or two which would require a close examination to get noticed really.
“You did it again,” he declares. Lina turns to face him and, following his gaze, she pulls down her skirt with a smile on her lips.
“Kol ženysiuos sugis,” she blurts out in her bird language. (It’ll heal until my wedding).
But Taec’s heard this phrase too many times not to know what it means. He’s not quite sure the hell’s wrong with him, when he suddenly grumbles:
“그럼... 누나, 난 안되겠니?”
Keureom… nuna, nan andawegenni? - Then… nuna, I wouldn’t do?
THE REST AT de_hana COMMUNITY