Of Postman and Relationships
Title: Of Postman and Relationships
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Zhoumi
Genre: Fluff/Romance
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Even in my dreams, they own me.
Summary: Letters are always bringer of good news. After all, good things comes to those who wait.
A/N: Belated birthday present for amalious. Hope you like it. Sorry for the wait. Inspired by Please Mr Postman by The Carpenters.
Let it be known that Zhoumi was not a hostile person by nature. If anything, he was a social butterfly. So social in fact that Kyuhyun once commented that he would have to capture him and preserved in a glass box like those creepy insect displays found at museums and gift stores. Metaphorically speaking of course.
That said, he couldn't help it if he had this sudden urge to strangle his postman if he didn't show up right this instance.
He sighed and placed his cup on the kitchen table, legs stretched out in front of him as he rubbed the throbbing nerve on his temple.
It was Friday morning. 8:16am to be exact.
The postman was late.
By 16 minutes 20 seconds. But who was counting anyway?
He sighed softly as he reached for the newspaper on the table. Even the newspaper delivery man came earlier than usual today. Just what exactly happened to his postman?
He flipped through the newspaper listlessly; unable to focus his attention long enough to even look at the bright obnoxious advertisements glaring right in his face. The words and colours and everything about them just seemed to mesh up, giving him the feeling that he was staring at Greek instead of a language that rolled off so naturally off the tip of his tongue; just like moving from one breath to the next.
He frowned before sighing once again, elbows resting on top of the newspaper as he stared out of his kitchen window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the postman's shadow.
After a few minutes of intense staring, he turned his head back dejectedly, hand reaching out for the lukewarm cup of tea, sipping from it as he rested his right cheek on his open palm.
This was getting ridiculous. He was Zhoumi. He shouldn't be getting worked up over the postman. He had better things to do. Like sort out his closet and picked an outfit for the day. Should he go with something simple yet fashionable? Or add splatters of bright colours to brighten up his dull palette of autumn wear?
Yet, he couldn't bring himself to care. Nothing mattered until the postman dropped off his mail. Or more specifically, a letter.
At the thought of the letter, his eyes immediately settled on the other object sitting on the wooden kitchen table. A simple mahogany box the size of a shoe box, adorned with a gold-coloured clasp and a fading picture of little rosebuds on the lid. The box itself held almost no value. Zhoumi had bought it at a antique sale for almost close to nothing because he thought the box would add a quaint touch to his home. Inside the box however, held the single most important thing of his existence.
His heart.
Okay. So he was being dramatic. But the content of the box was really important to him. Of sentimental values that no money in this world could ever replace.
Letters.
And not just any letters. A collection of letters written in his squiggly, barely legible handwriting. Words that served to fill him with emotions; playing with his heartstrings. A memorabilia of what they shared was real. Alive. Existed.
It had taken him a really long time to convince him to exchange letters. He remembered the grumbles and the whines; the constant complains about the convenience of modern technology. Why go through the hassle of posting letters that took days to reach their recipient when emails were received almost instantaneously? But Zhoumi had been adamant. They would still call and email each other. All he wanted was him to put in an extra effort to write him those letters.
Several tantrums and mock threats had finally resulted in tired resignation and shopping for decent stationary to begin the written exchange. The first time Zhoumi had received a letter when he set foot back to China, he was washed over by a wave of anticipation and giddiness; so delirious that he had almost rip the letter open right there, standing outside of his home, clad only in his pyjamas and bathrobe. Instead, he had immediately ran back into the house, sat himself down, trying to calm his racing heart as he caressed the envelope.
There was something indefinitely romantic and sweet about receiving love letters. So what if the letters were not filled with sonnets and love songs? The fact that someone he loved; treasured, took their time to translate their thoughts and feelings into ink on paper, marked by their distinguished handwriting added such a personal touch to the letter, was what made it so touching. Words, frozen and captured in time, evidence of a relationship that once made two people lived out their happily ever after.
It was the romanticism of it that kept Zhoumi sitting at the edge; restless and constantly fidgeting from the unbearable wait. He had called to tell him exasperatedly that he had sent him another letter in respond to his last one over the phone four days ago. This was the fifth morning since that phone call. The letter should have gotten here two days ago but hasn't. Anxiety and paranoia were starting to eat at him on the inside. What if the letter was lost in the mail? What if some crazy person decided to steal some letters and his was among the stolen?
The constant what-ifs ran around in his head, wearing him out mentally. He turned to stare out of his window again; as if the constant checking would somehow miraculously summon the postman to walk down the lane he lived on.
Finally throwing his arms up in defeat, he reluctantly stood up from his chair and proceeded to wash his cup before heading up to his room to freshen and change for work.
He came down the stairs, refreshed and changed, at 8:32am. 32 minutes late. His lips titled downwards in disappointment as he headed grabbed his keys lying on the little table by the kitchen. He looked up forlornly, knowing that he would probably miss the postman this morning when his heart stopped for a second.
The postman had just went past his neighbour's house.
Eyes widening in surprise, he quickly snapped his head back and flew right out of the door. He came to an abrupt stop just as the postman reached his mailbox, huffing slightly from the sudden sprint.
"Good morning." He greeted the postman in Chinese.
The man merely nodded his greeting as he flipped through the piles of mails and took a single letter out before handing them over to Zhoumi. He beamed the moment he recognized the handwritten address on the envelope.
"Thank you!" Zhoumi shouted at his retreating back.
He ran his fingers over the words, before deciding that he couldn't care less about getting to work on time. He was a good and efficient worker. Being late for once was hardly going to kill him.
He gingerly opened the envelope before unfolding the paper almost lovingly, eyes caressing the slants and tilts of the words before gasping in surprise.
"Did you just get my letter?" A smooth rich voice called out.
Zhoumi, still shocked over the letter, looked up in astonishment as he took notice of the tall lanky man standing in front of him.
"Surprise?" The man said, hands raised as if trying to soften the blow.
Zhoumi shook his head, as if the man was a cruel illusion that his mind made up before realizing that the vision was actually real.
"Gui Xian!" He broke into a wide grin before tackling him with a tight hug.
Kyuhyun merely chuckled as he pried the skinny limbs off his shoulders.
"Are you heading out to work now? If I know the letter was going to get here late, I would have just called."
Zhoumi smiled softly as he stepped back and held out his hand.
"There's no need. I'll just call in sick today. What's a few more yuans compared to you?"
Kyuhyun hummed in agreement as he took his hand; fingers intertwining ever so gently as they slowly made their way back into the house.
Their shared home.
He had to remember to leave some biscuits and tea the next time the postman came around.
---
A/N: So another popular OTP to cross off my list. Sorry if it comes off too sappy. I tried not to but it's hard not to get suck into by the romanticism of it all xD
Happy belated birthday Amal dear! ♥
Cross posted at qmibao.
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Zhoumi
Genre: Fluff/Romance
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Even in my dreams, they own me.
Summary: Letters are always bringer of good news. After all, good things comes to those who wait.
A/N: Belated birthday present for amalious. Hope you like it. Sorry for the wait. Inspired by Please Mr Postman by The Carpenters.
Let it be known that Zhoumi was not a hostile person by nature. If anything, he was a social butterfly. So social in fact that Kyuhyun once commented that he would have to capture him and preserved in a glass box like those creepy insect displays found at museums and gift stores. Metaphorically speaking of course.
That said, he couldn't help it if he had this sudden urge to strangle his postman if he didn't show up right this instance.
He sighed and placed his cup on the kitchen table, legs stretched out in front of him as he rubbed the throbbing nerve on his temple.
It was Friday morning. 8:16am to be exact.
The postman was late.
By 16 minutes 20 seconds. But who was counting anyway?
He sighed softly as he reached for the newspaper on the table. Even the newspaper delivery man came earlier than usual today. Just what exactly happened to his postman?
He flipped through the newspaper listlessly; unable to focus his attention long enough to even look at the bright obnoxious advertisements glaring right in his face. The words and colours and everything about them just seemed to mesh up, giving him the feeling that he was staring at Greek instead of a language that rolled off so naturally off the tip of his tongue; just like moving from one breath to the next.
He frowned before sighing once again, elbows resting on top of the newspaper as he stared out of his kitchen window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the postman's shadow.
After a few minutes of intense staring, he turned his head back dejectedly, hand reaching out for the lukewarm cup of tea, sipping from it as he rested his right cheek on his open palm.
This was getting ridiculous. He was Zhoumi. He shouldn't be getting worked up over the postman. He had better things to do. Like sort out his closet and picked an outfit for the day. Should he go with something simple yet fashionable? Or add splatters of bright colours to brighten up his dull palette of autumn wear?
Yet, he couldn't bring himself to care. Nothing mattered until the postman dropped off his mail. Or more specifically, a letter.
At the thought of the letter, his eyes immediately settled on the other object sitting on the wooden kitchen table. A simple mahogany box the size of a shoe box, adorned with a gold-coloured clasp and a fading picture of little rosebuds on the lid. The box itself held almost no value. Zhoumi had bought it at a antique sale for almost close to nothing because he thought the box would add a quaint touch to his home. Inside the box however, held the single most important thing of his existence.
His heart.
Okay. So he was being dramatic. But the content of the box was really important to him. Of sentimental values that no money in this world could ever replace.
Letters.
And not just any letters. A collection of letters written in his squiggly, barely legible handwriting. Words that served to fill him with emotions; playing with his heartstrings. A memorabilia of what they shared was real. Alive. Existed.
It had taken him a really long time to convince him to exchange letters. He remembered the grumbles and the whines; the constant complains about the convenience of modern technology. Why go through the hassle of posting letters that took days to reach their recipient when emails were received almost instantaneously? But Zhoumi had been adamant. They would still call and email each other. All he wanted was him to put in an extra effort to write him those letters.
Several tantrums and mock threats had finally resulted in tired resignation and shopping for decent stationary to begin the written exchange. The first time Zhoumi had received a letter when he set foot back to China, he was washed over by a wave of anticipation and giddiness; so delirious that he had almost rip the letter open right there, standing outside of his home, clad only in his pyjamas and bathrobe. Instead, he had immediately ran back into the house, sat himself down, trying to calm his racing heart as he caressed the envelope.
There was something indefinitely romantic and sweet about receiving love letters. So what if the letters were not filled with sonnets and love songs? The fact that someone he loved; treasured, took their time to translate their thoughts and feelings into ink on paper, marked by their distinguished handwriting added such a personal touch to the letter, was what made it so touching. Words, frozen and captured in time, evidence of a relationship that once made two people lived out their happily ever after.
It was the romanticism of it that kept Zhoumi sitting at the edge; restless and constantly fidgeting from the unbearable wait. He had called to tell him exasperatedly that he had sent him another letter in respond to his last one over the phone four days ago. This was the fifth morning since that phone call. The letter should have gotten here two days ago but hasn't. Anxiety and paranoia were starting to eat at him on the inside. What if the letter was lost in the mail? What if some crazy person decided to steal some letters and his was among the stolen?
The constant what-ifs ran around in his head, wearing him out mentally. He turned to stare out of his window again; as if the constant checking would somehow miraculously summon the postman to walk down the lane he lived on.
Finally throwing his arms up in defeat, he reluctantly stood up from his chair and proceeded to wash his cup before heading up to his room to freshen and change for work.
He came down the stairs, refreshed and changed, at 8:32am. 32 minutes late. His lips titled downwards in disappointment as he headed grabbed his keys lying on the little table by the kitchen. He looked up forlornly, knowing that he would probably miss the postman this morning when his heart stopped for a second.
The postman had just went past his neighbour's house.
Eyes widening in surprise, he quickly snapped his head back and flew right out of the door. He came to an abrupt stop just as the postman reached his mailbox, huffing slightly from the sudden sprint.
"Good morning." He greeted the postman in Chinese.
The man merely nodded his greeting as he flipped through the piles of mails and took a single letter out before handing them over to Zhoumi. He beamed the moment he recognized the handwritten address on the envelope.
"Thank you!" Zhoumi shouted at his retreating back.
He ran his fingers over the words, before deciding that he couldn't care less about getting to work on time. He was a good and efficient worker. Being late for once was hardly going to kill him.
He gingerly opened the envelope before unfolding the paper almost lovingly, eyes caressing the slants and tilts of the words before gasping in surprise.
"Did you just get my letter?" A smooth rich voice called out.
Zhoumi, still shocked over the letter, looked up in astonishment as he took notice of the tall lanky man standing in front of him.
"Surprise?" The man said, hands raised as if trying to soften the blow.
Zhoumi shook his head, as if the man was a cruel illusion that his mind made up before realizing that the vision was actually real.
"Gui Xian!" He broke into a wide grin before tackling him with a tight hug.
Kyuhyun merely chuckled as he pried the skinny limbs off his shoulders.
"Are you heading out to work now? If I know the letter was going to get here late, I would have just called."
Zhoumi smiled softly as he stepped back and held out his hand.
"There's no need. I'll just call in sick today. What's a few more yuans compared to you?"
Kyuhyun hummed in agreement as he took his hand; fingers intertwining ever so gently as they slowly made their way back into the house.
Their shared home.
He had to remember to leave some biscuits and tea the next time the postman came around.
---
A/N: So another popular OTP to cross off my list. Sorry if it comes off too sappy. I tried not to but it's hard not to get suck into by the romanticism of it all xD
Happy belated birthday Amal dear! ♥
Cross posted at qmibao.