Korea Boy {Part 1}
Title: Korea Boy {Part 1}
Pairing: HaeHyuk (Donghae/Hyukjae)
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, Fluff, Romance
Word Count: 894
Summary: To his mother he was perfect: smart, charming, and respectful. Then there was Donghae.
Note: Not beta'd, I'm just typing and posting right now fufufufu. also this is for maiki_rashu, whom i promised a story like... 2 years ago man omg.
Disclaimer: Not mine. :/ No money for this.
It was often that Donghae, the youngest of two and with a blank social calendar, was forced to drive his mother to do errands. It was even more common that he would be forced to stay with her, translating her broken English to a flustered cashier who was trying to explain why they could not accept a coupon that had expired two months ago.
However, he could take the headache of shopping over the migraine that gathered behind his eyes when he had to accompany his mother on afternoons with her friends. Normally she and several other women met in the basement of a local Korean restaurant, conveniently owned by the Parks- Mrs. Park being the oldest and casual leader of the small pack.
Though it was a basement, it was well lit and ventilated enough that the women could sip tea and gossip over light snacks, and on occasion place bets over friendly games of Mahjong or Go. While the ladies had their fun in their refuge from American life, Donghae thought the walls surrounding him were suffocating. Like a jail that his mother was the warden to.
When Donghae had first been asked to drive his mother to the Park's restaurant, he had asked several times why he could just leave and come back when she called, but after receiving the same answer (“I can never tell how much time I need- it's just easier if you're there.”) and a couple sharp hits, Donghae stopped asking.
Instead he tried excuses.
“But I have homework,” Donghae would whine in Korean.
His mother would shrug, “Do your work there then. No one is making you text your friends non-stop,” she would pause and sigh, “Aish, if you had been raised in Korea then you would have a much better work ethic and be thankful towards your mother...” Which at that point Donghae would tune out the majority of his mother's rants.
Donghae, a senior, had been born and raised in California, somewhere on the cusp of being fully Korean and completely American. His mother and father on the other hand were native to Korea, moving to America when Mr. Lee had been transferred to a different branch in his job. Even Donghae's older brother, Donghwa, had been born in Korea- granted, however, that he had only spent two years there.
Despite their numerous years of living in America, the primary language spoken in the Lee household was Korean. Donghae hadn't even learned English until he started school, picking it up quickly but at the same time fighting the accent that plagued his parent's English conversations.
Donghae knew his mother missed Korea, though she tried to fill the void with daily trips to Korea Town, if only to get a taste of what she left behind. When he was younger, Donghae would often hear his mother crying softly in her bedroom, only once daring to peek in. She had been sitting on the floor, boxes strewn about with pictures and papers tossed haphazardly around her. She had a colorful hanbok clenched in her hands (Donghae knew it was from her wedding- a picture of her and his father posed proudly in traditional clothing hanging in their living room), her face buried in the material and her shoulders shaking in quiet sobs. Donghae had crept away, unnerved by the frailty in his mother's demeanor.
Though Mrs. Lee would have preferred to live in Korea Town itself, Donghae abhorred the place with a passion. It meant long conversations and smiling at old ladies. It meant trot being played over the crackling radios and daily dramas played loudly on the televisions in stores. It meant he wasn't with his friends. It meant being scolded by his mother.
Korea Town was also the cause of lost afternoons, as Dognhae would sit quietly in the corner, dutifully doing his homework in the basement of the Park's restaurant. The smell of meat and stickiness of rice hung in the air, lacing with the clicks of Mahjong tiles and the conversations that blended in with laughter.
His ears perked when he heard his name mentioned, “Ah, your Donghae is such a hard worker!” one of the ladies complimented in rapid Korean.
“Aigo, he's growing up so fast!”
He mother smoothed her skirt and smiled slightly, pointed declining their praise, “It's all necessary for him to get a good job. He studies his books, but often forgets his manners.”
All the women chuckled and Mrs. Park spoke up, “That reminds me!” Donghae glanced up at her elicited tone, “One of Jungsu's friends from Seoul is going to be moving here on Friday.” Donghae knew of the Park's son, Jungsu, who used to live with in Korea Town until he decided to attend a university in Seoul. All the women had fawned over him when they heard the news- even being at the airport when Jungsu gave a teary farewell to his family.
“An English boy,” half the group groaned at Mrs. Park's announcement. English boys were boys like Donghae. American, rude, lazy, embarrassed of their mother's yelling at cashiers over expired coupons.
“No, he's Korean!” Mrs. Par was ecstatic and the women voiced their approval. “He's moving in with his aunt and uncle, but will be helping out with the restaurant while he's here.”
The women squealed and continued chattering over their tea.
------
Part 2
Pairing: HaeHyuk (Donghae/Hyukjae)
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, Fluff, Romance
Word Count: 894
Summary: To his mother he was perfect: smart, charming, and respectful. Then there was Donghae.
Note: Not beta'd, I'm just typing and posting right now fufufufu. also this is for maiki_rashu, whom i promised a story like... 2 years ago man omg.
Disclaimer: Not mine. :/ No money for this.
It was often that Donghae, the youngest of two and with a blank social calendar, was forced to drive his mother to do errands. It was even more common that he would be forced to stay with her, translating her broken English to a flustered cashier who was trying to explain why they could not accept a coupon that had expired two months ago.
However, he could take the headache of shopping over the migraine that gathered behind his eyes when he had to accompany his mother on afternoons with her friends. Normally she and several other women met in the basement of a local Korean restaurant, conveniently owned by the Parks- Mrs. Park being the oldest and casual leader of the small pack.
Though it was a basement, it was well lit and ventilated enough that the women could sip tea and gossip over light snacks, and on occasion place bets over friendly games of Mahjong or Go. While the ladies had their fun in their refuge from American life, Donghae thought the walls surrounding him were suffocating. Like a jail that his mother was the warden to.
When Donghae had first been asked to drive his mother to the Park's restaurant, he had asked several times why he could just leave and come back when she called, but after receiving the same answer (“I can never tell how much time I need- it's just easier if you're there.”) and a couple sharp hits, Donghae stopped asking.
Instead he tried excuses.
“But I have homework,” Donghae would whine in Korean.
His mother would shrug, “Do your work there then. No one is making you text your friends non-stop,” she would pause and sigh, “Aish, if you had been raised in Korea then you would have a much better work ethic and be thankful towards your mother...” Which at that point Donghae would tune out the majority of his mother's rants.
Donghae, a senior, had been born and raised in California, somewhere on the cusp of being fully Korean and completely American. His mother and father on the other hand were native to Korea, moving to America when Mr. Lee had been transferred to a different branch in his job. Even Donghae's older brother, Donghwa, had been born in Korea- granted, however, that he had only spent two years there.
Despite their numerous years of living in America, the primary language spoken in the Lee household was Korean. Donghae hadn't even learned English until he started school, picking it up quickly but at the same time fighting the accent that plagued his parent's English conversations.
Donghae knew his mother missed Korea, though she tried to fill the void with daily trips to Korea Town, if only to get a taste of what she left behind. When he was younger, Donghae would often hear his mother crying softly in her bedroom, only once daring to peek in. She had been sitting on the floor, boxes strewn about with pictures and papers tossed haphazardly around her. She had a colorful hanbok clenched in her hands (Donghae knew it was from her wedding- a picture of her and his father posed proudly in traditional clothing hanging in their living room), her face buried in the material and her shoulders shaking in quiet sobs. Donghae had crept away, unnerved by the frailty in his mother's demeanor.
Though Mrs. Lee would have preferred to live in Korea Town itself, Donghae abhorred the place with a passion. It meant long conversations and smiling at old ladies. It meant trot being played over the crackling radios and daily dramas played loudly on the televisions in stores. It meant he wasn't with his friends. It meant being scolded by his mother.
Korea Town was also the cause of lost afternoons, as Dognhae would sit quietly in the corner, dutifully doing his homework in the basement of the Park's restaurant. The smell of meat and stickiness of rice hung in the air, lacing with the clicks of Mahjong tiles and the conversations that blended in with laughter.
His ears perked when he heard his name mentioned, “Ah, your Donghae is such a hard worker!” one of the ladies complimented in rapid Korean.
“Aigo, he's growing up so fast!”
He mother smoothed her skirt and smiled slightly, pointed declining their praise, “It's all necessary for him to get a good job. He studies his books, but often forgets his manners.”
All the women chuckled and Mrs. Park spoke up, “That reminds me!” Donghae glanced up at her elicited tone, “One of Jungsu's friends from Seoul is going to be moving here on Friday.” Donghae knew of the Park's son, Jungsu, who used to live with in Korea Town until he decided to attend a university in Seoul. All the women had fawned over him when they heard the news- even being at the airport when Jungsu gave a teary farewell to his family.
“An English boy,” half the group groaned at Mrs. Park's announcement. English boys were boys like Donghae. American, rude, lazy, embarrassed of their mother's yelling at cashiers over expired coupons.
“No, he's Korean!” Mrs. Par was ecstatic and the women voiced their approval. “He's moving in with his aunt and uncle, but will be helping out with the restaurant while he's here.”
The women squealed and continued chattering over their tea.
------
Part 2