Crickets Will Guide You Back (Victoria/Nichkhun)

[warmboys]

Pairing: Victoria/Nichkhun, with ninja others if you look closely
Word Count: ~3700
Rating: PG-13 (sexual content)
Summary: In the beginning, she wanted him to like her for no other reason than the simple I want to be liked. Sees them through the course of the show and also farther off into the future.

Crickets Will Guide You Back

Prologue

Last week: Ruoyin in between them, face towards her father. The two of them snored in unison, and Victoria brought the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh before remembering that no one was watching and modesty was largely a thing of the past. But habits remained. She was thankful for them. Not everything disappeared or evolved; some things were impossible to correct. The watch-wearer who loses it one day and spends the next month glancing at his naked wrist. There was a story in her childhood about this, or maybe a neighbor. Memories are imperfect.

Ruoyin was nine now. She rarely had nightmares anymore, and even when she did she wouldn’t crawl into their bed as readily as she did at six. Victoria wasn’t entirely awake when her daughter entered the room this time, but she recalled in her haze of sleep being aware of a smaller weight pressing down on the mattress. A lighter set of limbs struggling to be discreet as it made its way over her sleeping body. The shifting of the comforter, the brief chill on her neck and shoulders before they were covered again, this time warmer than before.

- - -

In the beginning, she wanted him to like her for no other reason than the simple I want to be liked. She kept herself tightly wound, an last-ditch stab at self-preservation. She smiled like she was waiting to be stopped. There was a plug inside her, like the one in the shower. Krystal shed a lot of hair.

“Who do you think it’ll be?”

“Kim Heechul!” Amber yelled from inside the bathroom. It was another one of those long mornings.

“The way I see it, it could go two ways. They put you with a foreigner, as a publicity stunt for the both of you, or they put you with a Korean, who’ll teach you to be more Korean,” said Krystal. “Even though you’re pretty much Korean now already,” she added quickly.

“I just hope he’s older,” Victoria laughed. “I don’t want to be a noona anymore.”

“UMMA!” Even Amber’s yelling was strained.

“I told you to eat more vegetables,” Luna scolded, fingers hovering just above the door. “Is anything coming out?”

Sulli made a face that Krystal mirrored. “God, Luna. Why did I choose today of all days to come over?”

“What? She’s constipated! Poop isn’t going to come out by itself.”

“Uhhhh,” Amber grunted. “It normally does.”

Victoria made a mental note that Luna’d said “poop.” She wondered what other Korean girls would’ve said. What would she say, if the topic ever came up? “Stool”? Luckily it wasn’t a subject that’d likely be discussed on a variety show.

Sulli placed a hand on hers. “I’m so excited for our new father,” she said sweetly.

The girls spent the rest of the morning making aegyo at her over breakfast.

“I’m a father? When did we-“

She laughed, casting her eyes downward, but they were both thinking the same thing. They hadn’t been allowed to drink too much, but she’d had enough to feel the warmth spreading across her chest, as though a large, flat palm held it there. A few more and she would’ve been ready to cling, to giggle and show teeth. But this was home entertainment, and she had a reputation to uphold. What reputation? You mean the one you set out to build when you agreed to do this show. Right, that one. She blinked and he was still so handsome. She wanted to reach over and touch his ears.

Noraebang sounded like a bad idea. She didn’t know what she’d want to do to him in a darkened room, even with the cameras watching. No, that was definitely the soju speaking. Get a grip of yourself. She steadied herself with his hand getting off the bus. She would’ve been fine without it-she’d been fantastic at walking in heels since three years ago-but it was nice to take advantage of something that was there. To have something there for the taking.

She did hear that her Korean improved with the increase of alcohol intake. But they wouldn’t find out tonight.

Compared to her hesitance, his resolve was written clearly into his face. It might as well have been a business arrangement, but he wanted to make it as believable as possible. Like he was using calories to grin that happily. Those little nurturing glances he planned for the viewers. It was almost as though he foresaw the popup subtitles that’d scroll across the screen and make cheeky remarks about their expressions, their funny Korean.

“How’d it go?” Luna stood bleary-eyed in the doorway. The texts had kept coming in. Her phone had vibrated on the hour, a shock of a tickle against her waist.

“Good!” Victoria said, peeling off her shoes. She set them upright and lined them with the others before lifting her head to look at Luna and smile. “I don’t know if he liked me though.”

“But you’re wonderful and pretty and…”

“But so is he.”

Luna’s gaze was probing. The hum of the kitchen light filled the room with a gentle buzzing. She told her to go to sleep, they had to rest up for KBS tomorrow.

That wasn’t when it happened. Then she was still evaluating. That’d been testing the waters. They knew this was a good thing for both of them, but she wouldn’t be overstating the truth if she said they were also both a little curious.

It didn’t happen then, of course. She was too professional for that.

She fell asleep promptly after collapsing on her bed. There were no dreams the first night.

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m… yes?” She balanced the phone between the curve of her shoulder and her ear, ironing the shirt Amber had accidentally slept on yesterday. The shirt Victoria had planned on wearing today.

“Wait.” She nearly burned her finger on the iron. Repressed a curse in Chinese. Not like he would’ve understood, but the tone of the voice would’ve given it away. “Are we refilming the first episode?”

“No,” he laughed, warm breath translating to static air through wires and waves. “I was in the neighborhood and, uh, thought of you.”

“Really? That’s nice of you,” she said, smiling openly now. “Where are you right now?”

“Uh… Nearby?” There was some rustling, like some fabric had rubbed up against the phone, and then when he spoke again, his voice was louder. “Okay, I’m actually at home. But if you were hungry, I could be in the neighborhood.”

For a moment she was too busy listening to her own heartbeat to notice the iron branding itself into the back of her hand. “Fuck!”

“W-what?”

“Ow ow ow-Um, I’d love to.” She cringed, scrambling into the kitchen to run her hand under the faucet.

“Are you okay?” Concern audible in his voice. “Maybe another time?”

“No,” she said quickly over the sound of running water. She hoped he didn’t think she was peeing or anything. “I’m just getting some dishes washed. Are you sure you want to travel all the way here? I could meet you somewhere.”

“I’m sure. I mean, it’s fine.”

She smiled through the tears. It hurt that badly. “Okay.”

This was the way Amber found her, ambling into the kitchen. One hand wet and the other still wrapped around her phone. Tearstricken.

Amber stopped dead. “Dude, are you okay? You look like someone just died.”

“This is all your fault,” Victoria blubbered. “I burned my hand because you slept on my shirt and now I can’t wear it anyway because I have to-I’m meeting-I’m going on a real date. Oh my God.”

“Oh my God,” Amber repeated. “I’m so sorry. Do you want a bandaid? I have those Hello Kitty ones that Henry made me get as a dare from the Sanrio store-“

Victoria shook her head. “Just help me find something to wear.”

“How much do you actually like samgyupsal?”

She blinked. “I like it!” She paused, throwing a coy glance his way. His eyes were unreadable behind the shades. “I don’t say anything I don’t mean on camera.” I wouldn’t say anything at all.

“Really? You never… want to exaggerate things for the people watching? You know what I mean?”

“Yeah... I guess. I’m still learning, I guess,” she said slowly.

He grinned. Even under the cap and shades he looked immaculate. “I’m learning, too. Lots of things. Wait, car.”

His arm reached around her instinctively as a large black vehicle sped past so close it nearly brushed her nose. It left with a breeze, dust rising in her face.

“Fucking drivers in this country.” His eyebrows knitted together in something resembling anger, the first time she’d seen him like this. An episode she’d etch into her memory for safekeeping. She found herself simultaneously fearful and aroused and, without meaning to, pressed into the nook of his arm.

He looked apologetic for the curse, or maybe for the grip. “The restaurant’s around the corner,” he said, awkwardly releasing his arm to reach into his bag.

“You know the area well?”

He grinned, ears reddening first. He pulled out a piece of paper carefully folded in half. “According to Google Maps.”

It happened then, maybe.

“Not gonna lie, but appa’s kind of lame. How many times is he going to call you ‘wife’ on national television? Not to mention twitter, all those message boards, other people’s twitters…” Amber tossed a couple kernels of popcorn up and tried to catch them with her mouth. She missed by a long shot.

“You’re making a mess,” Victoria reminded gently. She hugged her legs to her chest, though it was too hot for bodily contact, even with herself. “Well, we are married. I find it … cute?”

“I know you do. You have to!” Amber punched her lightly in the arm. “I mean, you’re pretty obvious when you don’t find something cute. Your mouth immediately turns upside-down, I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like you-recoil. That’s a good word. How do you say that in Chinese?”

“I’m not telling you,” Victoria sniffed. She paused. “I guess… ‘wife’ isn’t really accurate.”

Amber made an attractive sound like it came from somewhere between her nose and throat. “Yeoboooo.”

Victoria looked straight ahead into the television, trying her best to stay nonplussed. “‘Girlfriend.’”

“Haha, it’s We Got Married, not We Got Laid-hold up. Hold up. Are you guys-when did this happen?!”

“Not telling.”

“I’m going to empty this bag of popcorn on the couch if you don’t talk.”

“… Okay! Last week! We were at that pl-“

“OH MY GOD THE ONE WE WENT TO THE WEEK BEFORE? I have to call the tabloids-what, I’m kidding. You know if you strangle me I won’t be able to rap anymore.“

Sadly this was true.

Amber sidled up to her and snuggled against her shoulder. “I’m so happy for you.”

It started with an innocent comment. They’d been radiating too much-happiness or something, maybe. There was an unspoken rule in the world that honored karma and balance. You couldn’t be content for too long. It was unfair.

“So Victoria-sshi. Can you tell us what’s really going on with you two?”

The studio hushed silent, waiting for his answer. He drew a breath and then defaulted to a cheeky grin. “You’re going to have to ask her that.”

There was a lull before the room gave way to a rumble of whisperings. Cell phones whipped out, texting friends despite the clear warning that electronic devices were to be turned off during taping.

The next day Victoria received a dead rat in the mail. Carefully baked into a three-layered fudge cake.

Around 3 p.m. Nichkhun felt his pocket vibrate. He checked the name first before breaking into a smile that the other guys would normally make fun of him for, but no one was around. He let it stretch his face apart and spill into his voice when he answered. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Um, this isn’t Victoria. This is Krystal.”

“Oh,” he brought the phone away from his ear to examine carefully. Victoria’s name glowed back at him in clear black type. “Hi Krystal.”

“Hi. I just wanted to let you know, this is unfair. What you’re doing. Did you even think before making that remark?” She kept her language polite, but there was no way to misinterpret her tone.

He frowned. “What?”

“Victoria-unnie’s crying. She’s been crying for a while now. I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any dead animals delivered to you, right?”

“What are you talking about? Did someone do something to Victoria?”

“I can’t stay on the phone for long because she’ll be done showering soon, but I talked with the other girls and we all think… this isn’t a good idea, oppa. I know you probably like her, but evidently you didn’t like her enough to think before putting her life and career in danger.”

“Krystal-“

“Look. I know I’m young and shouldn’t be saying this to you. But the others wouldn’t have made this call. I’m only doing it because-I think there’s a lot you don’t know about each other. And she deserves someone who’ll think of her as more than just a human pretzel-oh, she’s out now, cr-“

The line went dead. He stared at the phone in his hand, not entirely sure what just happened. Or maybe, if he was being honest, he was afraid to know.

It wasn’t supposed to be difficult. What was the point in diving into something difficult when he was only going to do this for a few years and then move back to Thailand?

No, but this was an excuse. He could imagine living here for a long time, with the right people. Maybe buy his family a nice place here. Sherleen was already living and breathing K-pop anyway. She was good at adapting to unfamiliar locations, like him. Well, only if they wanted to. He didn’t know. It wasn’t his decision.

But this was his decision, and his mistake. What had he been thinking when he answered like that? That it’d be funny? This wasn’t like him. He was a better man than this. He thought of other people-he prided himself on this quality, generally. What’d gotten into him? What’s gotten into me? When did he become so selfish?

When did it become acceptable to be so stupidly content?

They wrapped up filming after the street lamps lit up. It’d been raining all day, and the cameramen asked them to stroll down the street sharing an umbrella. Sappy things couples would do in real life. Touch her wrist, right there, yeah, there. These were actions that felt familiar by now, and normally they shared an odd pleasure in feigning awkwardness doing things that were beginning to become second nature to them-the dip of her waist cupped in his hand; threading her hair behind her ear during conversation (and the ensuing blush-you couldn’t fake that, he knew, and was all the more delighted by it)-but today they were acting. She laughed harder than usual, but he never saw her teeth.

“We need to talk,” he kept his voice low afterwards. He grabbed onto her elbow, and she flashed her eyes at him, startled.

“I-Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” with a laugh. “What makes you think I’m not?”

He didn’t know if he was supposed to mention the phone call. “You seem on edge. You know if anyone’s giving you trouble, you can tell me, right?”

Maybe it was a test, to see if she would. He wasn’t above games, he’d discovered recently.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, leaning into him. But there was reserve, hesitance in the act. He saw things now that he didn’t before. He wondered what would’ve happened if Krystal hadn’t called. Would he have continued along the line of vision of a blind man?

“You’re not happy. Something is-I’m not good enough.”

“What are you saying?” Genuine surprise in those big eyes. He almost felt grateful, which in turn sickened him.

“You deserve better,” he said.

December was good. He went home for the holidays, was pampered and doted on, filled up on his mother’s cooking. He couldn’t walk down the street without being mobbed, but it was his street to walk down. His country. Sherleen screamed when she saw Victoria’s autograph, the little heart after the personalized message. “You are so lucky,” she said, clutching it to her chest.

“You have no idea,” he said, laughing.

It’d been a month. He was still trying to get the smell of her hair out of his mind. Some days he fell asleep and dreamed of her in a little see-through slip, coy and playful on top of him. That come hither index finger curled, full of dirty promises. She’d only worn the slip once, had gotten too embarrassed to continue. He’d laughed around a mouthful of her hair and carefully murmured kisses up her shoulder, across the jut of her collarbone, while his hand found her wet and compliant.

He woke up hard and ashamed.

I’ll make you love me *^^*

At the time he had laughed nervously. God, he’d had no idea.

For their six-month anniversary, the PDs decided it’d be a good idea to go back to that very first restaurant. Symmetry, they said, was what storylines thrived on. See how far they’d come in the past half year.

Everything was the same, from the food to the alcohol, but everything was different, from the intial awkwardness to the practiced ease with which they now handled themselves and each other. There were pretenses of another sort now, taking the place of their more naïve predecessors.

Victoria drank like a champ, but her face glowed in a way that told him she’d had more than enough. She reined it in for the cameras, but during breaks she ran to the bathroom and stumbled out, reeking of anything but professionalism. He steadied her, letting her lean on his arm.

They sent her off in a taxi after wrapping up, and he stood waving at the taillights before hailing his own.

Road was blocked because of the snow.

He sat in the back, drumming his fingers on the denim of his jeans during a red light before feeling his phone vibrate in the coat pocket.

The text was illegible, but he got the message. “Hey, can you turn around?” He asked the driver, slipping him a bill. Tried to pass off the tremor in his hand as a consequence of the cold.

“Hiiiii,” she slurred, and crumpled in his arms. He unzipped his coat and wrapped it around her, let her cold slip into his skin. Her teeth chattering knocked against his shoulder, and he realized with a stomach flip she was still using the same shampoo, lavender, indulgent and familiar, like a friendly ghost.

He laughed when he saw that she was barefoot. Must’ve left her shoes in the taxi.

Mornings were made for awkwardness. She rolled over, scrunched up her face at the light streaming in through the blinds, and then saw him. Blinked, blinked again. Smoothed her bangs. Asked, “Where am I?”

He was too embarrassed to answer. “I don’t honestly know. You didn’t have shoes, and I couldn’t carry you very far-not that you’re heavy or anything. I’m just, weak.”

She stared at him through a thin film of sleep, like it hadn’t registered yet. She pouted subconsciously, her lower lip full and swollen. The side of her face was marked by pillow impressions.

“Am I dreaming?”

“I hope not,” he said honestly. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“God, anything.” Her eyes lit up. “I’m starving. Oh.”

“’Oh’ what?”

She groaned. “I moved my head too quickly. That… was not a good idea.”

He bit back a smile. “Stay here. I’ll go buy us something.”

When he got back she was snoring into the big pillow again, the little ones cast onto the floor. He set the dumplings on the coffee table and watched her sleep.

When he came back again with lunch, she was gone.

He caught her two blocks from the hotel, limping. She wasn’t wearing shoes.

“What is wrong with you?” He yelled, two months worth of frustration spilling over helplessly. “Why couldn’t you wait for me?”

He was making a scene. An old couple stopped to watch.

She adjusted her hat (his hat) and shades (his shades). “Ow-please don’t speak so loud.” He couldn’t read her expression.

“Sorry,” he said. “But… I was really happy when you texted me last night.”

“Really?” She peered at him. He recognized this look. This was her trying to look unaffected.

“Really. I, I’ve thought a lot since the last time we spoke.”

“I haven’t. I’ve been out clubbing with the girls. And with men.” Her mouth turned up. “Are you jealous?”

He gaped at her openly. “Are you serious?” He cleared his throat. “Doesn’t matter. I deserved that. I hope you met some fine, upstanding gentlemen.”

“Mm… maybe.” She was enjoying this now.

There was a lot he didn’t know about her, Krystal was right.

“I am… I want to find out. More about you.” He stumbled over the words, hoping she’d understand.

She was quiet, considering. “Like… getting married for the second time?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

She shifted her balance from one leg to the other, and he worried that she would say no, maybe it’d been too late. But instead she said, “Okay, but can we go shoe shopping first?”

Matching caps (well, sort of-Yankees and Red Sox. Victoria wouldn’t get the reference anyway) and Dior sunglasses. Different flights. He had to take out the ring from his pocket for the metal detector. He swore the lady officer gave him a suspicious look. He winked at her pleadingly. Don’t rat me out.

Her flight’s half an hour later. He waits at the Arrivals. She sees him, momentarily considers waving her arms wildly and screaming, baby!, but rolls her luggage calmly down the walkway instead. Chaste kiss to the cheek. Nothing incriminating. They’d save the fun stuff for later.

Valentines Day in Qingdao.