[K-Ent] Au Clair de la Lune
Au Clair de La Lune
IU / Eunhyuk
1653 words
Summary: Someone looked for a pen, someone looked for a flame. In all of that looking, I don’t know what was found. AU
A/N: For wynter_myst for her casual prompt of Paris, IU and Eunhyuk the mime. And because Eunhyuk, I was very amused when you pulled an almost Ryan Ross on me. Haha. Also, I took the French from everywhere (the only thing I know how to say in French is “do you speak English?”) so, apologies for any inaccuracies.
Ji Eun was sixteen when she left Seoul; packed her bags and told her tearful parents that she was going to come home soon with her dream fulfilled and be filial to them. All when she returned. Her mother clutched her father’s hands at the airport as Ji Eun waved cheerfully at them.
She came to Paris, to sing.
Her uncle had left Seoul about the same age she had, also to seek a dream. He had gone to Art College, and after graduating found himself with a certificate and no job in sight. It took a while, but he finally found a job crafting handmade toys. As the years went by, her uncle himself became a handcrafted puppet maker. He had a shop of his own, a little outside of Paris.
The work was slow and the jobs were getting lesser with the inevitable change of customer’s tastes to new, flashy electronic toys, but her uncle was happy enough.
Ji Eun wanted to be just like that too.
Aside from taking French lessons and going to normal classes at the school nearby, Ji Eun helped her uncle with the puppet shows he put on in the store. Every Sunday, children and adults in the neighbourhood came by the dozens, and Ji Eun learned how to sing in French, following as her uncle danced the puppets across its tiny wooden stage, the children laughing in delight.
Yes, this was why Ji Eun had come to Paris. Yes, this was why.
She was coming home from school, cradling a stack of music scores she had just wheedled out of her music teacher when she spotted the mime. He sat, slumped at the side of the street, a little tin box next to him.
She thought for a moment, before taking a coin out of her purse. Then she carefully, carefully- slipped the coin into the box.
The mime came to life.
He danced, lifting his arms and feet, putting a smile on his face. He danced in circles around Ji Eun and Ji Eun began to laugh. The children across the street started laughing to that as well, watching bright eyed at the spectacle in front of them. Then, but a few bare minutes later he stopped, and slowed, and returned to slump against the wall.
The coin’s magic was over.
Ji Eun sighed before leaning down to look at the mime one last time. She looked across the street just in time to see the two children try to mimic the mime’s dance, and she laughed, before turning back to him.
“Enchante,” she curtsied, before walking down the street.
That Sunday she had just come down to the shop, dressed in a new white dress her mother had sent her from Korea. (It was, sadly a little too small, but Ji Eun figured she could suffer the discomfort just for one afternoon. It wasn’t her mother’s fault that she no longer knew how big Ji Eun was). Her uncle was setting up the stage and Michele- the shop’s long-time manager, was getting the children to settle down.
“IU!” one of the girls called out. “Sing for us!”
“I will, soon,” Ji Eun laughed. The children had a bit of a problem pronouncing her name right, so they came up with their little nickname for her- IU.
She was settled on the seat with her sheet music and Uncle’s pianist, Paul had begun to play the beginning of the song, when the door opened, signalled by the bells attached to the knob.
Ji Eun looked up and was a little surprised to see a thin Asian boy step into the store. He bowed in greeting, smiled at Michele, before taking a seat at the back with the adults.
The puppet that afternoon wore a white leotard and tutu, with blue painted eyes and long blonde hair. Above her was a yellow wooden crescent moon, and Ji Eun smiled as she began to sing.
Au clair de la lune… Mon ami Pierrot…
As always, the children crowded around the stage to take a closer look at the puppets. From the corner of her eye, Ji Eun could see a little boy and his mother, talking to Michele about purchasing one of the animal puppets on display. She smiled, a job well done, and was about to turn to go upstairs to change when she bumped straight into…
The Asian boy.
“Bonjour,” he nodded.
“Bon… bonjour,” she returned, a little surprised.
“You sing very well.”
Her eyes opened in surprise. He was speaking to her in Korean! “Thank you,” she said, her words coming out in an almost stutter. It had been a long while since she last spoke in Korean.
“Do you sing every Sunday?” he asked. “Here?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve… never seen you around.”
“It is my first time here today,” he said, sitting down on a chair and beckoning for Ji Eun to sit next to him. “I’m glad I came in here.”
Something fluttered in Ji Eun’s heart, and she clasped her hands over her knees. Was it perhaps her too-tight dress that was causing her this breathlessness? She held a hand up to her chest.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.
“Yes,” she nodded, turning to look up at him. He looked her over, concerned with one hand raised, wanting to make sure she was all right but probably hesitating because, well, they had just met. “I’m all right. Thank you.”
The boy stopped by often now. His name was Hyukjae. Michele and Paul called him “Hugh”, which made Ji Eun giggle whenever they did. Sometimes he came in the evenings, sometimes in the afternoon. He was a mystery. Ji Eun never found out what he did for a living- he just seemed to pop by at the most opportune times. Michele figured he must be at least ten years older than Ji Eun was. Ji Eun didn’t care.
Of course, he stopped by every Sunday. A little while after they got to know each other, her uncle suggested they sing together. Michele came to man the other puppet. They sang La mere Michel, and it was such a rousing success that the children came to like Hyukjae as much as Ji Eun, calling out “Hugh!!!” when they came to the shop on Sundays.
One afternoon after Ji Eun had just gotten off the phone with her mother, she heard a familiar whistle from the street. She laughed and looked out the window, waving.
Hyukjae brought hot chocolate and croissants from the café down the street, and they sat outside the shop on the little wooden bench and ate.
“I was speaking to my mother a while ago,” Ji Eun sighed softly.
“And?” Hyukjae asked, spitting out croissant crumbs as he did so. Ji Eun laughed and brushed the few that had fallen on her skirt daintily away.
“She wants me to go back to Korea. To go to university in Korea.”
Hyukjae paused, putting his half eaten croissant back down. He looked down on the ground for a minute, solemn, before he asked, “And what did you say?”
“I said I would,” Ji Eun turned to Hyukjae, a sudden rush of tears threatening to sneak past her eyes and roll down her cheeks. Her voice trembled a little. “I miss her very much.”
“I see,” Hyukjae nodded. He reached for a napkin and wiped his mouth clean.
Ji Eun turned away slightly disappointed. What had she expected? For him to ask her to stay? They barely knew each other, she realised. She should not have expected him to feel the same thing she felt for him- him, the older boy, who probably had a girlfriend, a Parisian girl, more sophisticated and did more than just sing in a puppet shop on Sundays.
Then she felt a hand take hers and squeeze tight.
She turned to look at him, but he was looking resolutely ahead. She looked down at their hands, laced her fingers through his, and held on.
She would always remember the taste of her first kiss- chocolate and freshly baked croissants.
Ji Eun’s classmates invited her out to a stroll at the artist village. It was the most bohemian place in Seoul, one of her classmates said. “Very well suited for our arty Paris-educated Ji Eun-ssi,” she continued, before Ji Eun had smacked her with a piece of calico.
She spent more money than she should have on handmade glass trinkets and beaded necklaces. They were just about to leave the market when Ji Eun spotted a mime, slumped against a bench at the edge of the market, just like the one when she was in Paris…
Walking over, she slipped a coin into the box, and watched as the mime came to life.
Her eyes widened in surprise as the mime began to dance a familiar dance and smile a familiar smile. He turned to her, and she gasped.
When the dance ended, the mime made to slump back to the bench but Ji Eun began to sing.
Au clair de la lune, mom ami Pierrot…
The mime got up suddenly, took Ji Eun’s hands, and began to dance again, this time with her.
En cherchant d’la sorte je ne sais ce qu’on trouva
Mais je sais que la porte, sur eux se ferma…
All of Ji Eun’s friends were looking at them in wonder, and when Ji Eun finished her song, the mime sat her down on the bench and smiled down at her.
Ji Eun wanted to laugh out, cry out, scream and shout. How could she have never known?
“Hello Hyukjae,” Ji Eun said happily.
“Enchante,” he replied, with a bow.
Then someone slipped another coin into the box, and Hyukjae picked her up to dance, and they started all over again.
Au clair de la lune, mom ami Pierrot…
More notes:
I’m sure you’ll know this song once you hear it.
the English translations for the parts I’ve taken
Au clair de la lune, mom ami Pierrot…
In the light of the moon, Pierrot, my friend
En cherchant d’la sorte je ne sais ce qu’on trouva
Mais je sais que la porte, sur eux se ferma…
In all of that looking, I don’t know what was found
But I do know that those two shut the door behind them.
IU / Eunhyuk
1653 words
Summary: Someone looked for a pen, someone looked for a flame. In all of that looking, I don’t know what was found. AU
A/N: For wynter_myst for her casual prompt of Paris, IU and Eunhyuk the mime. And because Eunhyuk, I was very amused when you pulled an almost Ryan Ross on me. Haha. Also, I took the French from everywhere (the only thing I know how to say in French is “do you speak English?”) so, apologies for any inaccuracies.
Ji Eun was sixteen when she left Seoul; packed her bags and told her tearful parents that she was going to come home soon with her dream fulfilled and be filial to them. All when she returned. Her mother clutched her father’s hands at the airport as Ji Eun waved cheerfully at them.
She came to Paris, to sing.
Her uncle had left Seoul about the same age she had, also to seek a dream. He had gone to Art College, and after graduating found himself with a certificate and no job in sight. It took a while, but he finally found a job crafting handmade toys. As the years went by, her uncle himself became a handcrafted puppet maker. He had a shop of his own, a little outside of Paris.
The work was slow and the jobs were getting lesser with the inevitable change of customer’s tastes to new, flashy electronic toys, but her uncle was happy enough.
Ji Eun wanted to be just like that too.
Aside from taking French lessons and going to normal classes at the school nearby, Ji Eun helped her uncle with the puppet shows he put on in the store. Every Sunday, children and adults in the neighbourhood came by the dozens, and Ji Eun learned how to sing in French, following as her uncle danced the puppets across its tiny wooden stage, the children laughing in delight.
Yes, this was why Ji Eun had come to Paris. Yes, this was why.
She was coming home from school, cradling a stack of music scores she had just wheedled out of her music teacher when she spotted the mime. He sat, slumped at the side of the street, a little tin box next to him.
She thought for a moment, before taking a coin out of her purse. Then she carefully, carefully- slipped the coin into the box.
The mime came to life.
He danced, lifting his arms and feet, putting a smile on his face. He danced in circles around Ji Eun and Ji Eun began to laugh. The children across the street started laughing to that as well, watching bright eyed at the spectacle in front of them. Then, but a few bare minutes later he stopped, and slowed, and returned to slump against the wall.
The coin’s magic was over.
Ji Eun sighed before leaning down to look at the mime one last time. She looked across the street just in time to see the two children try to mimic the mime’s dance, and she laughed, before turning back to him.
“Enchante,” she curtsied, before walking down the street.
That Sunday she had just come down to the shop, dressed in a new white dress her mother had sent her from Korea. (It was, sadly a little too small, but Ji Eun figured she could suffer the discomfort just for one afternoon. It wasn’t her mother’s fault that she no longer knew how big Ji Eun was). Her uncle was setting up the stage and Michele- the shop’s long-time manager, was getting the children to settle down.
“IU!” one of the girls called out. “Sing for us!”
“I will, soon,” Ji Eun laughed. The children had a bit of a problem pronouncing her name right, so they came up with their little nickname for her- IU.
She was settled on the seat with her sheet music and Uncle’s pianist, Paul had begun to play the beginning of the song, when the door opened, signalled by the bells attached to the knob.
Ji Eun looked up and was a little surprised to see a thin Asian boy step into the store. He bowed in greeting, smiled at Michele, before taking a seat at the back with the adults.
The puppet that afternoon wore a white leotard and tutu, with blue painted eyes and long blonde hair. Above her was a yellow wooden crescent moon, and Ji Eun smiled as she began to sing.
Au clair de la lune… Mon ami Pierrot…
As always, the children crowded around the stage to take a closer look at the puppets. From the corner of her eye, Ji Eun could see a little boy and his mother, talking to Michele about purchasing one of the animal puppets on display. She smiled, a job well done, and was about to turn to go upstairs to change when she bumped straight into…
The Asian boy.
“Bonjour,” he nodded.
“Bon… bonjour,” she returned, a little surprised.
“You sing very well.”
Her eyes opened in surprise. He was speaking to her in Korean! “Thank you,” she said, her words coming out in an almost stutter. It had been a long while since she last spoke in Korean.
“Do you sing every Sunday?” he asked. “Here?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve… never seen you around.”
“It is my first time here today,” he said, sitting down on a chair and beckoning for Ji Eun to sit next to him. “I’m glad I came in here.”
Something fluttered in Ji Eun’s heart, and she clasped her hands over her knees. Was it perhaps her too-tight dress that was causing her this breathlessness? She held a hand up to her chest.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.
“Yes,” she nodded, turning to look up at him. He looked her over, concerned with one hand raised, wanting to make sure she was all right but probably hesitating because, well, they had just met. “I’m all right. Thank you.”
The boy stopped by often now. His name was Hyukjae. Michele and Paul called him “Hugh”, which made Ji Eun giggle whenever they did. Sometimes he came in the evenings, sometimes in the afternoon. He was a mystery. Ji Eun never found out what he did for a living- he just seemed to pop by at the most opportune times. Michele figured he must be at least ten years older than Ji Eun was. Ji Eun didn’t care.
Of course, he stopped by every Sunday. A little while after they got to know each other, her uncle suggested they sing together. Michele came to man the other puppet. They sang La mere Michel, and it was such a rousing success that the children came to like Hyukjae as much as Ji Eun, calling out “Hugh!!!” when they came to the shop on Sundays.
One afternoon after Ji Eun had just gotten off the phone with her mother, she heard a familiar whistle from the street. She laughed and looked out the window, waving.
Hyukjae brought hot chocolate and croissants from the café down the street, and they sat outside the shop on the little wooden bench and ate.
“I was speaking to my mother a while ago,” Ji Eun sighed softly.
“And?” Hyukjae asked, spitting out croissant crumbs as he did so. Ji Eun laughed and brushed the few that had fallen on her skirt daintily away.
“She wants me to go back to Korea. To go to university in Korea.”
Hyukjae paused, putting his half eaten croissant back down. He looked down on the ground for a minute, solemn, before he asked, “And what did you say?”
“I said I would,” Ji Eun turned to Hyukjae, a sudden rush of tears threatening to sneak past her eyes and roll down her cheeks. Her voice trembled a little. “I miss her very much.”
“I see,” Hyukjae nodded. He reached for a napkin and wiped his mouth clean.
Ji Eun turned away slightly disappointed. What had she expected? For him to ask her to stay? They barely knew each other, she realised. She should not have expected him to feel the same thing she felt for him- him, the older boy, who probably had a girlfriend, a Parisian girl, more sophisticated and did more than just sing in a puppet shop on Sundays.
Then she felt a hand take hers and squeeze tight.
She turned to look at him, but he was looking resolutely ahead. She looked down at their hands, laced her fingers through his, and held on.
She would always remember the taste of her first kiss- chocolate and freshly baked croissants.
Ji Eun’s classmates invited her out to a stroll at the artist village. It was the most bohemian place in Seoul, one of her classmates said. “Very well suited for our arty Paris-educated Ji Eun-ssi,” she continued, before Ji Eun had smacked her with a piece of calico.
She spent more money than she should have on handmade glass trinkets and beaded necklaces. They were just about to leave the market when Ji Eun spotted a mime, slumped against a bench at the edge of the market, just like the one when she was in Paris…
Walking over, she slipped a coin into the box, and watched as the mime came to life.
Her eyes widened in surprise as the mime began to dance a familiar dance and smile a familiar smile. He turned to her, and she gasped.
When the dance ended, the mime made to slump back to the bench but Ji Eun began to sing.
Au clair de la lune, mom ami Pierrot…
The mime got up suddenly, took Ji Eun’s hands, and began to dance again, this time with her.
En cherchant d’la sorte je ne sais ce qu’on trouva
Mais je sais que la porte, sur eux se ferma…
All of Ji Eun’s friends were looking at them in wonder, and when Ji Eun finished her song, the mime sat her down on the bench and smiled down at her.
Ji Eun wanted to laugh out, cry out, scream and shout. How could she have never known?
“Hello Hyukjae,” Ji Eun said happily.
“Enchante,” he replied, with a bow.
Then someone slipped another coin into the box, and Hyukjae picked her up to dance, and they started all over again.
Au clair de la lune, mom ami Pierrot…
More notes:
I’m sure you’ll know this song once you hear it.
the English translations for the parts I’ve taken
Au clair de la lune, mom ami Pierrot…
In the light of the moon, Pierrot, my friend
En cherchant d’la sorte je ne sais ce qu’on trouva
Mais je sais que la porte, sur eux se ferma…
In all of that looking, I don’t know what was found
But I do know that those two shut the door behind them.