No matter how much I try to smile, I feel so lonely
An alien who's trying to fit in with earthlings
— HAN, Alien
🌠
“Hyung!” he called out. “I'm coming!” Eight-year-old Jisung looked around the area, his voice resoundingly loud, amplified by nature being quiet save for the high-pitched chittering of some birds.
It was the middle of the afternoon on a hot summer day. He was playing hide-and-seek with his new friend, so he kept his eyes sharp as he surveyed his surroundings. His fists were clenched, something he usually did when he needed to concentrate. He kept on the lookout for a flash of blue, or a hint of lavender—colors that would be out of the place among the greens and browns of the hills where they were playing.
And then he noticed it; a hint of soft purple peeking out from behind a tree.
Jisung lit up, excited. “Found ya!” he yelled, breaking out into a run towards the tree.
In his hurry, he stepped on a pebble; slipped on one and then he was falling forward, and it felt like the ground was coming for him, about to meet him and swallow him whole—
Jisung gasps softly, shoulders jerking as he abruptly wakes up from his sleep. He blinks and looks down at his own hands as they loosen; his nails, blunt as they were, had left shallow indents on his palms.
He takes a deep breath and rubs both of his eyes with the backs of his hands so he could push himself to complete wakefulness. His dream had been so sharp and vivid to the point where it almost felt like a long lost memory. Even the feelings from the dream linger; there's a hint of alarm from having almost fallen through the ground, but as the seconds tick by it is quickly overtaken by the joy and excitement from having spotted…. who was it? A friend, he's sure, because otherwise there would have been no reason for him to feel so jubilant about finding that person.
But the details of said dream are quickly starting to get away from him, dissipating until the high-definition sharpness has dulled down, the images in his mind becoming hazy and blurry, leaving nothing but traces of that exhilaration he had felt.
He sighs to himself and glances outside the train window instead. Right on time because he realizes that they're pulling up at his station. If he had slept through the next ten or fifteen minutes he would have completely missed the correct stop.
He gathers his things which include one suitcase, one backpack and one duffel bag—all his earthly possessions, really, as he had finally managed to rid himself of everything he doesn't need anymore. He didn't really have any choice; now that he has graduated from university, the cheap housing that he had enjoyed in Seoul thanks to his scholarship is no more.
Instead of putting down roots in Seoul, instead of starting a career in the bustling metropolitan of the capital, he instead decided to take a break for a couple months, going back home to his grandparents in the countryside so he could figure out his next step in life. He hadn't been able to visit as much as he usually did during his last year in school, so maybe that played a bit into his decision.
The train station is a forty to fifty minute bus ride away from his grandparents' village, Seukje-ri, and as he moves through the station he realizes how much of a hassle lugging all his bags is going to be. His grandfather had offered to pick him up but Jisung had vehemently refused, insisting that he's now a grown adult who can take care of himself, but clearly he had not thought this through.
“Hyung! Jisung-hyung!” A loud voice cuts through his internal whining, effectively catching his attention. He looks up, turning towards the direction that the voice is coming from and is pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face waving him over.
“Jeongin-ah!” he calls back, struggling a little as he drags his bags towards the younger male who, fortunately, doesn't waste time in jogging over to meet him halfway. “Are you going somewhere?” he asks once they're face to face.
Jeongin's family lives close to his grandparents—although Jisung supposed that everyone in the village can easily be considered neighbors. Jeongin is younger than him by a year so they hadn't been in the same year at school, but growing up, Jisung saw enough of him because not only did his family run the bakery that sold Jisung's favorite red bean buns, but he and his brothers also often helped out at his grandparents' strawberry farm during harvest. In high school, they also belonged to the same extracurricular club, one that Jisung had started himself, although he's pretty sure that Jeongin had only joined because clubs were required and Jisung's was the only one that allowed him to sleep away during club hours.
“Your folks sent me to pick you up,” Jeongin explains, much to Jisung's surprise—although, in hindsight he should have probably expected it. “Ajussi said you wouldn't let him do it himself.”
“Well, yeah.” Jisung chuckles. “I know how busy it gets this time of the year.”
Jeongin shrugs. “It's busy all times of the year,” he says absentmindedly as he stares at Jisung's luggage. “How exactly were you planning on getting to the village?” he asks, shaking his head with a disapproving chuckle.
“I was managing, wasn't I?” Jisung huffs. “I was gonna put the suitcase away in the bus compartment and—”
“And after you get off the bus?”
Jisung winces. The bus stop at the village is a fifteen to twenty minute walk from his grandparents' house; again, he really had not thought this through. He regularly visited while he was in university, but he only ever stayed a couple of nights at most and he had never had to move back all his belongings after he first left close to six years ago.
Jeongin laughs and simply picks up the duffel that was precariously balanced on top of the suitcase. “And that's why they sent me,” he explains, flashing a bright, toothy smile before he starts leading the way towards the station exit. “They sent me with their truck.”
Jisung hums. “How much are they paying you?”
Jeongin scoffs. “Is it so unbelievable that I'd do this out of the goodness of my heart?” Jisung gives him a pointed look and Jeongin laughs some more. “My girlfriend has a summer internship here, downtown, three times a week, and they let me use the truck to pick her up when her work runs late—and very often it does.”
“Girlfriend? You?” Jisung teases, feigning shock. Jeongin is a cute boy though, fun and amiable, so it really isn't a surprise that he would be dating—Jisung just remembers him as a little boy for the most part, but even he is an adult now, clearly.
Jeongin scoffs; it's not as if they're close friends, but he's always had an easy countenance and seems at least aware that Jisung is only playing with him. Soon, he's helping Jisung load his bags in his grandparents' truck and then they're finally on their way to their small village where both of them had grown up, making small talk while on the drive, with Jeongin talking mostly about his girlfriend (they celebrated a hundred days a week ago, apparently) and how his studies are going for him (he's on a break, but he has two terms left before he graduates with a degree in Child Psychology), and Jisung making throwaway comments here and there.
Seukje-ri was once Jisung's mother's hometown, but he wouldn't have known if she hadn't passed away when he was only three years of age. As with most parental deaths, it had greatly impacted Jisung's life. Her funeral had been the first time that Jisung met his only living set of grandparents, and for a long time, he wouldn't see them again.
For a couple of years after her passing, his father struggled as a single parent of two in Seoul, doing his best to make ends meet. Jisung was seven when his father had landed a big opportunity; a job posting in Malaysia which also marked the chance for a new start for the family. He had, however, agonized over the kind of adjustment two young boys would need to make in a country where neither of them spoke the native language, and so his father decided that it would be best to make temporary arrangements – Jisung and his older brother were to stay with their maternal grandparents in the countryside, only for a year, while he focused on work and assimilation in a new country. The idea was that it would be easier to help his sons settle in once he himself had better means to.
It had not been an easy year; their grandparents were like strangers to Jisung and his brother, but for a while it worked because they had each other. To their father's credit, he had pulled through and kept his promise. After a year he came back to pick up his sons; Jisung was going on 9, while his brother was 14.
His brother, despite being right on the cusp of puberty, had unexpectedly adjusted quite well in a foreign country, settling in like life in Kuala Lumpur was a glove custom made especially for him. Unfortunately, it was an entirely different matter for Jisung. He couldn't cope, couldn't settle in no matter how hard his father tried to help; he became frail and sickly, and he wouldn't even attend school and couldn't make friends. In the end, his grandmother suggested that it might be better for him to return home to Korea and live with them, and this was how it came to be that it is in the little town of Seukje-ri that he had ended up spending the rest of his youth.
“Did you miss home?” Jeongin asks as they drive down the familiar road to Seukje-ri.
Jisung hums in consideration. Did he? It's home. It's not perfect, but it's a part of him. He doesn't necessarily miss it when he's away, and sometimes he feels a lingering itch to explore more, but it does feel comfortable whenever he returns.
In the end he shrugs. “It's nice to be back,” he answers simply.
His grandparents' house hasn't really changed at all since Jisung last stepped foot inside it. Granted, it's only been a little over half a year since he had briefly visited last year during Chuseok, but generally it hasn't really changed much since Jisung was 8 and he first arrived at the house.
“Halmeoni!” he calls out brightly, toeing his shoes off by the threshold. “I'm home!”
He waits for several seconds before his grandmother appears in the entryway. Her face lights up as soon as she spots Jisung, who immediately mirrors the expression.
Contrary to the house, she has definitely changed a lot over the last two decades, give or take. When Jisung was a little boy, she had always seemed rather intimidating; always put together and with a rather stern expression. She always kept her hair dyed jet black and pulled back in a tight bun with not a strand out of place. These days her expression is softer; her face is more aged with visible lines, but she also wears a smile more often. Her hair is still kept in a bun, but it's practically snow white now as she had stopped bothering to dye it after Jisung graduated high school. She has also always been small in stature, but she looks even tinier now, in part because Jisung has grown, but also because her posture has worsened over the years.
She moves slower as well, which is why Jisung takes it upon himself to close the remaining distance between them so he can envelop her in a hug.
“Where's Harabeoji? At work?” he asks after they both pull away.
His grandmother nods. “But he should be home soon and we can all have a late lunch together,” she clarifies.
“You haven't eaten yet?” Jisung asks, his nose wrinkling in surprised disapproval. “It's already 2 in the afternoon.”
“We wanted to eat with you,” she says simply. She squeezes Jisung once more before completely letting her go and looking over his shoulder instead, towards Jeongin who has just followed inside the house with Jisung's suitcase in tow. “You're welcome to stay and eat as well, Jeonginnie,” she invites him.
“I'd love to, ajumma, but—” he winces and bows apologetically. “I think my parents saved a plate for me at home.”
“It would be rude to keep them waiting then,” Jisung's grandmother agrees, clapping Jeongin on the shoulder. “Go on. Thank you for driving our Jisungie home, and send your parents my regards.”
After Jeongin leaves, she goes back to the kitchen to get their meal ready while Jisung drags the rest of his things into his old bedroom—which also hasn't really changed much. It's not very sizable, practically a 4x4 box with walls decorated with various posters, one of which is an X-Files “I WANT TO BELIEVE” poster that had been a tongue-in-cheek birthday gift from his brother when he turned 13.
Not five minutes later, without giving him time to unpack, he hears his grandfather announce his presence so Jisung walks back out of his room. He comes up to his grandfather to greet him, but they don't hug—he never has been showy with physical affection, but he smiles at Jisung and gives him a gentle hair ruffling; Jisung has gradually, over the years, gotten used to the gesture enough that now he is able to feel the intended warmth.
“Welcome home, boy,” his grandfather says, and Jisung respectfully bows in response.
The lunch spread is made up of Jisung's favorite side dishes, with the main course being sundubu jjigae, his grandmother's best dish that he constantly missed when he was living in Seoul. To be fair, he always missed homemade cooking in general because for the last several years, save for maybe the eighteen months he had spent fulfilling his mandatory military service, he had more or less subsisted on a convenience store diet. The life of a broke college student, and such.
Over the meal, Jisung chows down food while his grandfather talks about that season's harvest. Truthfully, it's a topic that doesn't really interest Jisung despite having grown up in a farming village. Once upon a time this had been a source of tension between them but it seems that these days, his grandfather has accepted that Jisung is never going to take over his family's strawberry fields. To make up for it, Jisung tries his best to pay attention when he talks about any of it.
His grandmother, on the other hand, has more to say about the village people. She mentions that the Nams' middle son, who had been in Jisung's year at school, had gotten engaged last December, while the Chois' eldest daughter, whose wedding was the talk of the town the last time Jisung was home, has finally announced a pregnancy. Jisung is just as interested in these topics as he is about farming, which is to say not very much at all—he may know these people, but he has never really been very social with them, and all he can do is nod and occasionally hum in response to show he's listening. There's a feeling emanating from his grandmother, silently courting his interest; asking without words when Jisung is going to make similar strides in his personal life but he tries to ignore it. He doesn't have anything to share on that front.
At one point, she makes a mention of Jeongin and his girlfriend which at least makes Jisung genuinely perk up. Jeongin had talked some about his girlfriend during their drive to the village, and for once, Jisung has something to add to the conversation.
These are his maternal grandparents and even though Jisung has little to no memories of his mother, they have done their best to raise him and talk to him about her, and for that he will always be thankful to them.
That said, the road had not always been smoothly paved. His grandmother was intimidating, working him around the house in a way that Jisung could never dream of saying no to. She enforced a curfew with an iron grip—but when Jisung broke her rules, it was his grandfather that he had to contend with. When Jisung was in middle school until the early years of high school, going through the peak of his puberty, he had dealt with more than a few lashings from his grandfather.
It was during the last year of high school that they had softened, and Jisung always attributes that to the fact that he had been able to maintain a good standing academically, eventually earning himself a scholarship at a good university.
To be fair, despite the ups and downs, they were generally kind to him, showing their love in their own ways. It was just that Jisung was an odd child, originally a city boy at heart with city boy interests. They did not understand him, and he did not understand them, but he appreciated them; appreciated that they took him in when his own father didn't possess the faculty to deal with him.
For better or for worse, he was a product of his grandparents' love, care and discipline and despite his complicated relationship with them and his hometown, when it came down to it, for now, they represent home.
After lunch, after Jisung has helped clear the table and wash the dishes; after his grandfather has headed back to the fields, Jisung announces that he's going out for some air.
“You should rest,” his grandmother suggests with a slight frown. “Aren't you tired?”
Jisung smiles and shakes his head. She isn't wrong because he is tired, but he also has a lot of pent up energy thanks to the three hour long train ride. Besides, he always likes to walk around whenever he comes to visit; he likes to see how much the village changes when he's away—usually never much, if at all, but it's habitual on his part by now. The constant familiarity of the village always helps him calm down.
“The weather's too nice to remain cooped up in my room,” he tells his grandma instead as he kisses her on the cheek. “I won't be gone long.”
In square footage, Seukje-ri isn't really very small, with a spacious expanse of farming fields worked by locals. The population, however, is quite compact and all the villagers more or less know each other.
Objectively, a part of Jisung has always appreciated this about the town. There are very few secrets among the townspeople and it made everyone feel closer; familiar.
Unfortunately, the rest of his parts are less objective and are all too familiar that it's that exact same thing that makes it hard for someone as odd as Jisung to truly fit in.
As a kid, adults in town had found him curiously precocious; they had engaged with him with obvious amusem*nt, humoring him, and Jisung took to it like moth to a flame—at least until he hit puberty and childish precocity wasn't a gift anymore, but just another reason for people to find him weird.
It didn't help that his peers, kids his age, were always far more discerning. They found him strange from day one and it was never in an amused way. No one was outright mean; in a small town politeness has great value—but it was clear that they didn't know how to deal with him, and in his ostracization, Jisung more than felt the weight of their impressions of him.
In the city, there were many different kinds of people; even there he hadn't really found a perfectly fitting niche but at least he didn't feel as lonely and excluded because he knew there were at least others like him, also cut from different cloths.
And yet, for some reason, here he is, back at home, unsure what's next for himself.
The entrance to the village is twenty minutes away from his grandparents' house. The area also doubles as the commercial center of the village, with the bus stop is just a stone's throw away from the town hall and other small commercial businesses in town, such as the one neighborhood Chinese eatery, the open public market that sets up thrice a week at best, and the local bakery that Jeongin's family runs. Most establishments there have been around far longer than Jisung has been alive, and for everything else, townspeople don't mind making do with the forty-minute travel to the nearest city.
That isn't where Jisung plans on heading, though. The elementary school, which had boasted of roughly only 150 students during Jisung's time there, is somewhere along the way to the village town hall, going from Jisung's grandparents' home. This is his destination—or, well, the path to his destination.
He goes around to the back of the school, knowing exactly where he can slip through a broken area of the school's perimeter fence. Like most things in the village, it's yet another thing that has barely changed over the years—when Jisung had graduated elementary and had started attending the junior high school one town over, he had frequently kept sneaking back through this unwitting entrance, and it was all because the elementary school provided a shortcut to his favorite place in the village.
When he was a boy, thanks to his inability to fit in with the other children, he had been constantly trying to find ways to amuse himself. One of these ways was him going around all the nooks and crannies of the school, and when he had ran out, he had expanded to beyond the school grounds, and this was how he had secured himself a secret spot of his own—a clearing hidden past the woods behind the school, a little ways past the feet of the rolling hills that border one side of their village.
When he was a child, it was the perfect spot to play games by himself, make-believe skits where he could act out all the parts without the judgment of others. And when he had tired and outgrown such childish plays, it had become a place where he could sit by himself and his tumultuous thoughts or, every so often, one of the same five sci-fi novels his high school library offered that teenaged Jisung would borrow in rotation.
It takes one roughly five minutes to get there from the school, but almost immediately, after he emerges from the trees and bushes and he arrives at his special clearing, Jisung feels warm comfort bloom in his heart.
As he looks around, it dawns on him that this is where the dream from earlier, the one he had on the train, had taken place. He hadn't realized it immediately because in his dream, the field had stretched across an infinite expanse; but now he recognizes it was simply an exaggerated version of this exact area.
He inhales deeply, and then he looks around. There's something about this place; he can feel it, he always has been able to feel it, but he has never been able to put it to words.
Whenever he comes here, it always feels like he's waiting for something, but he doesn't know what, exactly. The comfort the place offers is always assuring; as if one day, whatever he's waiting for will come to him, and maybe that's also part of why he always comes back.
For now, he pushes aside that familiar anticipation, just sitting down on a dead tree stump like he always does when he's there. It's his self-proclaimed thinking throne, or at least it was when he was fourteen.
He sighs to himself and he lets all the extra thoughts go; that's another thing this place has been good for over the years. It's just… easier. Everywhere else, his thoughts feel heavy, but here they always ease up. He smiles serenely, and for the next half hour he stays there comfortably, phone out and open on his favored music app, playing his current playlist of beloved songs.
The combination of the setting with music always helps him; allows him to keep at bay thoughts that he doesn't need to dwell on, allows him to gather his wits and feelings, not necessarily coherently, but never overwhelmingly.
Going from Jisung's special spot, over the hill is also a shortcut that leads one straight to the commercial area of the village, which is where he heads to after he's done stewing in his thoughts.
As expected, not much has changed there either. He heads to the 7-Eleven first, which is right next to the bus stop. He goes there to buy himself insect repellent cream—the thing he has missed the least, living in the countryside, are the mosquitos that love to feast on him at night.
The clerk at the counter is the same one that has been working there ever since the store first opened 7 years ago, when Jisung was still in high school. He greets Jisung with familiarity and he asks Jisung how school in the city is going, and when Jisung shares that “I just graduated, actually,” he's congratulated because that's the expected response, and not because the clerk genuinely cares. It's fine, though, because Jisung is used to it.
Afterwards, he crosses the street to go to Yang's Bread, the bakery that Jeongin's family has been running for several generations now. As a boy, whenever he would upset his grandparents enough to earn himself a beating, his grandfather would always come home the next day with a dozen pieces of Jisung's favorite red bean buns, his own way of apologizing at having to be physical. In a way, Yang's Bread is reminiscent of his grandfather's rare affection for him, and that's why Jisung has special appreciation for it.
The bell chimes above his head when he enters and he expects Jeongin or any of his brothers to greet him from behind the counter.
“Welcome to Yang's,” someone calls out in monotone, and finally, Jisung is met with the first change; the first new thing—or, rather person—town.
The person behind the register is an unfamiliar boy—more accurately, a man. He has a small face, but with a chiseled jaw, and an even more sculpted nose. He has big eyes framed with thick lashes and even though his greeting had been deadpan and his expression is mostly vacant, the corners of his lips are turned up slightly in an almost feline manner. Both of his ears were decorated with multiple piercings, similar to Jisung's own. The sunrays coming through the glass windows shine on him like a spotlight, hitting his dark hair in a way that gives it a beautiful purple sheen.
He tilts his head, eyes filling with curiosity as he watches Jisung. “Hi,” Jisung can only greet back with a tentative smile. The man is almost inhumanly beautiful and a bit distracting, to say the least, and he's always had trouble being around extremely good looking people but he tries to keep calm. “Where're Jeongin and his brothers?”
“Busy. Do you know the Yangs?”
“Uh. I grew up here. Everyone knows everyone here,” Jisung comments. Except you, he bites back. I don't know you.
“Oh.” The stranger smiles and he's even more attractive. When their gazes lock, Jisung is suddenly hit with an intense feeling of déjà vu.
Despite having absolutely no idea who the man is, there's something eerily familiar about him. He doesn't feel new or out of place; he gives Jisung a vibe that he fits in perfectly with the cozy homelike feeling that Seukje-ri offers.
It's weird, but Jisung had grown up repeatedly telling himself that weird isn't necessarily bad—after all, that's how he had always been perceived in this town.
“I'm Jisung.” He doesn't know why he introduces himself; it's not as if he goes around doing that to every stranger or store clerk that he meets. He mentally reasons that it's because everyone else in the village knows who he is anyway, what's one more person? “Han Jisung,” he clarifies properly. “Do you know the Kangs? Up the road, past the elementary school?”
“Kangs—the strawberry Kangs?”
Jisung nods. “I'm their grandson.”
“Ah. Han Jisung. Of the strawberry Kangs,” the stranger reiterates. There's an amused sparkle in his eyes now and Jisung finds himself smiling for it. “I'm Lee… Minho.”
“You're new in town,” Jisung points out bluntly.
“I guess?” Minho laughs, sweet, tinkling music to Jisung's ears. “I've been here for a few months but I suppose that's ‘new’ to someone who grew up here.”
“Do you—are you related to the Yangs?”
“Uh—is this an interrogation?” Minho shakes his head, chuckling as he proceeds to answer anyway. “They took me in when I had nowhere else to go. I temporarily live in their shed, pretty much.”
Oh, Jisung mouths, before nodding wordlessly. He takes in the information he's provided with and files it away for later. “Well it's nice to meet you Lee Minho-ssi.”
Minho keeps giving him a curious look. “It's nice to meet you too Han Jisung-ssi but… are you going to buy anything?”
“Ah!” Jisung laughs sheepishly; he'd almost forgotten what he was there for originally. “Strawberry filled donuts please,” he says. “Half a dozen.” He grins; he knows the Yangs make their jam filling with fresh strawberries that his grandfather supplies them with and he also knows that his grandparents take pride in that. It always makes them happy when products made from their own come back to them.
“Coming right up,” Minho answers, and as he works behind the counter, readying his order, Jisung can't help but watch him move around, mesmerized by his appearance and overall curious about his strange familiarity.
“I'll come back for you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Pinky promise?”
“What's that?”
Eight–year-old Jisung held out his stubby pinky and was only met with confusion. That didn't deter him though; he beamed widely, not feeling an ounce of self-consciousness despite his missing canine tooth, and he took his friend's blue hand. He looked up and found that his friend was looking at him with wide eyed curiosity so his smile grew even more.
Jisung took it upon himself to inwardly fold all of his friend's fingers, one by one, until only the smallest one remained, and then he crooked his own pinky with it.
“This is a pinky promise!” he explained matter-of-factly. “It means you can't break the promise! Or else!”
“Or else?”
“Or else!” Jisung repeated without further explanation, and then he fell back on the ground, laughing, and his blue skinned alien friend followed suit, their pinkies remaining linked all the while.
When Jisung wakes up, he feels a slight constriction on his chest.
“Pinky promise,” he whispers as he stares at the ceiling. With a sigh, he brings his hand up, staring at the back of it before curling all his fingers inwards, save for his pinky which he wiggles around.
He sighs and drops his hand again, resting it on his stomach. He hasn't had that dream for a while. Then again, he hasn't had dreams about his blue friend in general for a long time, and now he's two for two because today he's sure that's also who he had been playing hide-and-seek with in his dream yesterday.
He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, keeping them close as he tries his best to remember details from the dream before he loses them again like he did on the bus yesterday.
Big eyes. Blue skin. Soft, lavender hair.
When he was only 8, when he first came under his grandparents' care, he had gone through a period when he had made up an imaginary friend. Not just any imaginary friend at that, but an imaginary alien friend, lost and temporarily stranded on Earth in the middle of his travels in space.
What was his name again? Jisung tries to search his memories.
“Lee Know,” he whispers. That was his name. Rather, that's what Jisung called him. He supposedly had a longer name, one that was hard to pronounce, especially for an eight-year-old Earthling like Jisung, so he had simply shortened it to the only two syllables he could pronounce, Lee Know.
He chuckles to himself. God, he was such a lonely kid with an overactive imagination. What does it say about him that instead of approaching the other village kids to play with them, he had instead conjured up an entire alien to keep himself company? It certainly didn't help when he started going around telling everyone at school that aliens were real because he was friends with one and he was going to introduce them all to him when his alien friend came back for him like he promised.
Pinky promised, even.
Truly, he can only laugh at his younger self's naïveté.
When his father had finally taken him and his brother to live in Malaysia, a part of him had been so distraught—what if Lee Know didn't know where to find him? It didn't help the anxiety he developed from living in a foreign country, surrounded by people he didn't know how to communicate with. It's a little embarrassing to admit now that he's in his twenties, but it was a part of why his father had eventually needed to send him back to Korea.
He was around twelve or thirteen, when his older brother had convinced him to stop talking about childhood fancies. It was one thing to be young and be in earnest belief of aliens, but twelve was the age to transition into being a Big Boy, the age to start leaving his imagined friends behind.
He didn't necessarily stop believing in aliens after that, but he certainly stopped talking about them with his brother. Eventually, with fading memories, even he had to admit how unlikely it is that he had truly met an extraterrestrial being.
He sighs and rolls off his bed. He wonders why his brain is conjuring up these lost, long-forgotten 'memories'. He used to frequently dream about Lee Know when he was younger, but the dreams had come fewer and further in between as he grew older. During his last couple of years in university, he wasn't even really having any more of them, so why now? Why again? Is it because he's back home? Because he's back with the intent of staying—at least for a while?
“Halmeoni, do you have any errands you need me to run?” Jisung asks over breakfast. He's eating alone because his grandparents typically wake up at the crack of dawn to start their day, but his grandmother is bustling about in the kitchen anyway as Jisung feasts on the spread she prepared for him.
“Why? Are you planning on going out today?”
Jisung shrugs; it's not as if there's much else he can do except go on walks around town. He thinks he might go and find somewhere to gather his thoughts, maybe even get some writing done—he had figured that he'd have some free time now that he's home, and he thought maybe he could try his hand at writing a novel like he had always dreamed about doing.
That, or he could go and try to look through online classifieds and finally start his job hunt. The data signal is atrocious at his grandparents' but he knows it's not so bad closer to the area of the town hall.
“Well, we don't really need anything right now, but would you mind taking your grandfather's lunch to him?”
“Ah.” That's extremely out of the way, the opposite direction of where he was thinking of heading to, but he doesn't mind a longer walk, he supposes. It would be a way to kill time, at least. “I don't mind, halmeoni.”
“Your grandfather had your bike serviced a week back, his grandma says, surprising him. “So you can use it if you want.”
Cycling is the easiest way to get around the village, but Jisung had essentially retired his bicycle after high school graduation. He couldn't be bothered maintaining it for the short visits he made every so often while he was still a university student, not when he was only ever around for a couple of days at a time and he mostly kept to himself at his grandparents' home. Not to mention it was simpler to just walk if he needed to get anywhere.
He's definitely going to be sticking around for more than just a weekend this time, though, and that his grandfather had thought ahead to get his bicycle ready makes Jisung feel grateful.
“Maybe I can ask harabeoji if I can do anything to help at the farm,” he suggests, momentarily motivated to do anything for his grandfather to show gratitude. “I have nothing else to do anyway.”
His grandmother looks contemplative. “I think he would appreciate that. You already know how much he enjoys it when you show interest in the work he does, but you also know that helping around in the fields would involve waking up much earlier than you're used to these days.”
Jisung winces because she's right. He remembers all too well because in his teenage years he had been required to help out at the farm, especially whenever school was out, and it involved waking up before the sun was up, even during summers when he would have preferred to sleep in. His lackadaisical attitude had been the cause and reason for many arguments; many beatings had from his grandparents' trusty wooden spoon.
His grandmother lets out a quiet chuckle, probably because of his expression. “Jisungie,” she starts, her tone soft as she sits down at the table across from him.
“Yeah?” Jisung glances up at her after shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth. “Yes?” He corrects himself, knowing that his grandparents have no appreciation for informal speech. He feels the atmosphere between them shift, growing more serious with tension building, just a little.
“You know we have come to understand that you don't want to take over the strawberry farm, right?”
Jisung is surprised at the sudden inquiry, but slowly, he nods, his gaze consciously traveling back down to his food. Despite having tasked him to help out when he was younger, they have never really burdened him with any sorts of expectations when it comes to taking over the farm eventually. He knows a lot of his peers in high school who hadn't pursued higher education because they had been expected to start work at their respective families' farms, and most of the few who did go to college went for agriculture or business related degrees. Truthfully, a part of Jisung had always felt guilty for not wanting it more; for wanting something else even though to this day he isn't actually sure what that something else is. It's why he tries never to touch upon the topic.
“Your mother ran away when she was 18 because we expected her to take over the farm,” his grandmother continues; Jisung can only nod some more as he's known this story since he was 17. “We never considered that she would want to do something else, and when she told us, we reacted badly. As a result, we lost her. We wasted so many years we could have had with her and then… she was just gone.”
Heavy melancholy settles in the room at the mention of his mother's untimely passing. It was a traffic accident, the immediate aftermath of which was something Jisung had been too young to really, truly, consciously fathom at the time. For one, he didn't understand back then why he never met his maternal grandparents before her death.
His grandmother smiles at him now, wrinkled and tentative but loving and genuine; she places her hand on Jisung's arm and squeezes gently. “We know we don't really talk about your mother a lot, but we really don't want to make the same mistakes that we did with her—so we want you to do what you want and we'll support you unconditionally. You know that, right?”
Jisung finally looks up again, a faint smile curving on his lips. He does know that—he hadn't always, but the way they had allowed him to live as he pleases after he graduated from high school had more than shown their love and sincerity towards Jisung and his life choices, and he appreciates them for it. The problem isn't them – the problem is the lack of direction he has in life. The problem is that he's the one who doesn't know what he wants to do, the one with vacant plans for the future.
Originally, he had entered university with plans to pursue a Bachelor of Science in Physics, but he had soon learned that none of the career paths the degree offers is anything he was interested in—and that was his problem, because clearly he shouldn't have chosen to study physics to begin with.
When he was a teenager, someone had told him that was what he should major in if he wanted to know more about the stars; about outer space, about the universe and what more it has to offer. But he had quickly learned that it wasn't really the science that he was interested in; it was the poetry of it. He found out that in truth, as much as he was curious if there was life out there, he wasn't really interested in learning how the universe works.
After a miserable two years studying for a degree that bored him, he had gone away for his mandatory time in the military, and after he came back, he decided to switch majors. He had instead gone for a degree in literature; he had lost his science scholarship in the process, and he had needed to take on multiple part-time jobs during his last few years at university so that he wouldn't completely burden his grandparents—or his Dad, completely settled in Malaysia by then—because of a decision he made himself, and now he has a degree that isn't really helping him land a job that pays well or even excites him.
He wants to write, is the truth, but despite the imagination he possesses, it's hard when he feels like he's lacking in actual experience. A part of him longs to travel; longs to find out what more life can offer him, but another truth is that—he's scared.
It doesn't help that even from childhood, he has always carried a lingering feeling of anticipation in his heart. He had always felt like he was waiting for something big—something important. He thinks, if anything, now is the time to also figure out what he's been waiting for all of his life—because if it doesn't finally come to him, he knows the only recourse he really has is growing up, and growing into complete adulthood.
Jisung is pleasantly surprised to find a familiar face when he arrives at his grandparents' strawberry fields. Jeonghoon, Jeongin's oldest brother, who is a year older than Jisung, is there—but he had expected that. The Yangs have always helped at the farm, and Jeonghoon has long become his grandfather's official right hand, a result of Jisung defaulting out of the position.
The surprise comes in the form of Lee Minho, who is right there, sweating in the fields along with them. He's the first one Jisung sees when he arrives, and he's immediately distracted. Minho is even more beautiful under the noontime sun, which Jisung feels is unfair because biking for five minutes under the same sun has him already sweating buckets and he feels disgustingly sticky all over.
“Jisung-ah!” It's Jeonghoon who spots him first and when he calls for him both his grandfather and Minho also look up to greet him. He flashes a bashful smile at all of them, feeling strangely shy all of a sudden; he attributes it to the intensity of Minho's gaze.
“I have everyone's lunch,” he announces softly. Now he realizes why his grandmother had packed so much food; it was so all of them could share.
There are a couple of small wooden tables and benches at the edge of the fields where his grandfather's workers could take meal breaks, or just breaks in general. His grandfather and Jeonghoon end up sharing one, purporting that they have a few things to discuss. Jisung wonders if he should feel more upset about this, but he couldn't bring himself to be, not when it results in him sharing a table with Minho instead.
It turns out his grandmother packed a whole lot of kimbap rolls and two medium sized containers of what was left of her sundubu jjigae.
“I didn't know you helped out here,” Jisung comments, cutting through the silence as Minho unwraps the tinfoil of a kimbap roll, while Jisung himself takes off the lid of the jjigae they're going to share between the two of them. He belatedly realizes that it's a silly comment because he's only been back in town for one day, so of course he wouldn't know.
Minho, thankfully, simply shrugs. “A couple of times a week, I do,” he explains. “I also help the Hwangs out with their cabbages sometimes.”
Jisung observes Minho, unable to take his eyes off of him to the point that he has to push away the persistent thought that he's otherworldly handsome. He tries his best to focus on their actual conversation. “And the rest of the time you man the Yangs' bakery?”
When Minho chuckles, the corners of his eyes wrinkle adorably. “Sometimes I do odd jobs here and there for some of the families—like run errands for the aged villagers whose children live in the city now, but mostly, yeah, especially since Jeongsu is officially apprenticing in the kitchen now.” Jeongsu is the youngest among the Yang brothers; Jisung assumes that means he's the one expected to take over the bakery one day, with Jeonghoon busy at the Kang's farm and Jeongin pursuing a degree in Education. “I'm going back there after lunch, actually,” Minho continues. “Jeongin has some errands to run so I'm taking over the afternoon shift.”
“I'll probably head back with you,” Jisung volunteers.
“Sure.” Minho keeps smiling, and it must be contagious, because Jisung finds he can't get rid of the one plastered on his own face.
Silence takes over again, and the two of them quietly eat lunch. Jisung's eyes dart around their surroundings, briefly settling on his grandfather and Jeonghoon who seem to be discussing something important as they eat lunch, just a few yards away from him and Minho.
“Harabeoji is probably going to leave him in charge of the farm eventually,” he muses softly, as he turns back to Minho.
“Jeonghoonie?”
“Mhm.”
Minho pauses and looks at Jisung carefully as if he's trying to read him, which makes Jisung feeling slightly awkward.
“What?” he asks. “Something on my face?”
Minho shakes his head. “Is it a problem if he does?”
“If Jeonghoon-hyung is left in charge, you mean?”
Minho nods this time.
“Nah.” Jisung smiles. “He seems to actually enjoy backbreaking farm work.” He laughs. “Couldn't be me. Yesterday Harabeoji was talking about how Jeonghoon-hyung has some ideas about new variants of strawberries or whatever. I couldn't even follow the explanation.”
Minho laughs, nodding some more in agreement. “What about you? If you're fine with someone else taking over your grandfather's farm then does that mean you're going to be doing something else?”
Jisung shrugs. “That's the plan. Except so far, there is no plan.”
Minho gives him a questioning look. “Innie said you're a writer.”
“Did he?” Jisung snorts. “Can I really call myself that if I'm not making money off my writing?”
“No idea.” Minho snorts. “You tell me.”
Jisung wrinkles his nose. “Let's talk about you instead,” he suggests instead, wanting to shift the topic away from himself and his obvious lack of life direction. “You said you arrived here a few months ago?”
Minho nods, and simply goes along with the abrupt maneuvering of the conversation. “It's been three? Four months, maybe?”
“Why?” Jisung blurts out, not meaning to sound as incredulous as he does.
“What do you mean why?” Minho laughs. “Why not?”
“I just mean—” Jisung shrugs. “Seukje-ri is the middle of nowhere, practically. And it isn't like we're known for anything touristy or interesting in particular. Can't imagine why anyone who doesn't already live here, or at least grew up here, would willingly make their way here.”
“Well maybe it wasn't willingly that I found my way here,” Minho retorts soullessly.
“That'd make more sense actually—if you got lost and somehow ended up here.” Jisung snorts; he's not sure if Minho is serious or joking but he teases anyway. “So is that actually what happened?”
Minho doesn't answer immediately; he takes another big bite of his kimbap roll, helping push it down with a spoonful of jjigae. Jisung notices that he takes his time chewing before swallowing, as if he's avoiding answering the question. He doesn't really want to press—rather, he doesn't think he has the right to, so he keeps eating as well.
“I was looking for someone,” Minho says softly, finally answering after a couple of minutes.
“Oh.” Jisung blinks. “Did you find them? This is a very small town, everyone knows everyone.” He chuckles quietly.
Minho shrugs; shakes his head.
Jisung wants to ask who it is exactly that Minho is searching for; wants to ask what this person is to him but Minho doesn't seem to be open for discussion on that front so Jisung carefully lets it go. “Well,” he says, “if I can help in any way, just let me know.”
Minho smiles. “Thanks.”
They easily move on to other topics after that; from Mrs. Yang's meticulous process when making fruit jelly that she has been trying to teach Minho, to Minho's impressions of everyone in town based on the odd jobs he has performed for them; their conversation even touches upon Jisung's favorite cafe in Seoul and why he thinks they have the best Americano.
Next thing they know, lunch break is over and it's time to get back to work, at least for Jisung's grandfather and Jeonghoon. Minho, like he mentioned earlier, is headed to Yang’s bakery to take over manning the register.
“I can give you a ride,” Jisung finds himself volunteering. “I mean—if you don't mind standing on bike pegs…?”
“I don't,” Minho tells him; Jisung thinks he notices that his smile grows wider too. “If you're sure it's fine.”
“I really wouldn't offer if it wasn't,” Jisung assures him, grinning.
Minho feels warm against his back when he gets on the bike pegs, and his grip on Jisung's shoulders is light but firm; he smells like sun, sweat and strawberries, and it surprises Jisung how comforting the scent is.
They don't really talk during the bicycle ride, but Jisung finds that he doesn't feel self conscious about the silence. Instead, he's able to enjoy the warm breeze whipping past his face as they roll downhill to the center of the village.
“Thanks,” Minho tells him after they get to their destination and he gets off the bike. “For the ride and the company.” He smiles at Jisung, blinding despite how modest it is. “Oh! And the food, of course,” he adds at the last second.
Jisung laughs and waves a hand dismissively. “The food was from my grandma, and the company went both ways.” He pauses, and for a couple of seconds he and Minho just stare at and regard each other.
“Well, I gotta go inside now,” Minho finally says, breaking the quiet. “Are you gonna go inside to buy something?”
“Ah—” Jisung shakes his head. “Not today but—” he laughs shyly, about to do something—about to ask for something—that he's never dared to do before. “Can we be friends?”
Minho blinks, clearly caught off guard. And then he bursts into laughter, which has Jisung's face heating up, yet he doesn't feel like Minho is laughing at him. He simply seems amused.
“Of course,” Minho tells him. “I'm surprised you even have to ask—I already figured we were already heading towards that anyway.”
The following days find Jisung settling into a routine. He would wake up at around 9, have the breakfast that his grandmother sets aside for him, and then he would proceed to help her with chores around the house or with her garden in the backyard. An hour and a half before noon, they would start preparing lunch, which Jisung then delivers to his grandfather, Jeonghoon and occasionally anyone else who happens to be helping them out at the fields for the day.
In the afternoons, after lunch with his grandfather, Jisung finds himself frequenting the Yang's bakery where he would sit at one of the few tables they have there, laptop open under the guise of not even writing, but going through online classified ads.
“Find anything interesting today?” Minho suddenly asks one day, looking over his shoulder and taking him completely by surprise. Jisung practically jumps in his seat, one hand clutching at his chest while the other instinctively exits out of the active tab to show his desktop (his wallpaper a safe, stock photo of the Virgo constellation) instead.
There's a split second of awkward silence before Minho pulls away and starts laughing. “What are you hiding?”
“N-nothing!” Jisung stammers. And it's true; it's not as if he's hiding anything scandalous or salacious, he was genuinely just caught off guard. Not to mention Minho is so close, and deep, deep in his subconscious, Jisung knows Minho is the reason why he's been spending so much time at the bakery. He sighs, gathers his wits, and maximizes his browser once more, showing YouTube on screen, open on a pair of travel vloggers' most recently uploaded video.
“Oh, what's this?”
“It's ‘Bin & Chan’,” Jisung explains.
“What's that?” Minho asks, comfortably taking the seat adjacent to Jisung's and once again glancing at the periphery of the laptop screen.
Jisung squints at him. “Shouldn't you be working?”
Minho gives him a pointed look before getting around them. “Do you see any other customers? There's only you. Technically I'm working by entertaining you.”
“Tch.” Jisung scoffs and playfully rolls his eyes. For someone who has never been good at socializing, he feels incredibly at ease when he's with Minho. Where with others it takes him a while to feel comfortable enough to quip—if he even gets to that point at all—with Minho, banter seems to be the only way they communicate.
One time Jeongin had made a throwaway comment about Minho being odd, and initially Jisung had frozen up at that, knowing that the adjective does not have a history of being positive. Jeongin hadn't seemed malicious with his retort though, and Minho had laughed like he was proud to be described as such, so Jisung let it go. He thought at the time, maybe that's why it was easy to be around Minho; they were a pair of oddballs.
“Uh. They're a pair of travel vloggers,” he explains, clicking on his browser icon again and going back to the now paused video. He fast forwards to a moment that shows two men talking to the camera. “The guy with the curly hair and the dimples—that's Chan. He's kind of the straight man—I don't mean straight as in heterosexual but like. He's the straight man to Bin's wise guy, yeah?”
Minho only gives him a dubious look, like he couldn’t care less about the distinction Jisung is trying to make.
“Some rumors say they're boyfriends, but I digress,” Jisung mutters in clarification before pointing to the shorter, stockier man on screen. “That's Bin. He looks kinda scary and serious but he's actually the funny guy. They're ‘best bros’ or whatever, and they travel a lot. Their content is really fun because they go to really cool places, but they're also fun ny in the way they banter and the way they engage with the locals wherever they go.”
Minho nods and Jisung can tell he's still a little confused, but also a little intrigued.
“Wanna watch?” he offers, grinning as he angles his laptop so Minho can have a better view.
“Aren't you supposed to be job hunting?” Minho asks.
“Tch. That can wait—” Jisung laughs. He has barely looked at job ads that day, quite frankly. “This episode they're in Thailand and the thumbnail is Bin dropping a massive sized fish while Chan looks on with absolute horror. I bet it's super funny. Bin can be a really big baby.”
Minho smiles, shrugs yet again and leans back in his seat, resigned. It's all the answer Jisung needs before he hits play on the video.
The afternoon passes; every so often a customer will come in and Jisung will pause so that Minho can tend to them. Nevertheless, time flies, and soon they've seen at least half a dozen, fifteen to twenty minute Bin & Chan vlogs.
“Have you ever been to any of those places they've visited?” Minho asks, stretching his arms above his head and in the process unwittingly drawing attention to the slither of skin that becomes visible as his shirt rides up his stomach.
“Uh.” Jisung forcefully snaps his eyes away from that area and consciously focuses on Minho's face instead. “Not really. I… I've only really been to here and Seoul. Oh, and to Malaysia. I visit there every couple of years or so.”
“Why's that?”
“Why do I visit Malaysia?” Jisung shrugs. “My dad and my brother live there.”
“No, I mean…”
“Why have I never really gone anywhere?” Jisung chuckles. “Travel isn't cheap.”
Minho gestures at Jisung's laptop; to the paused video of Bin & Chan. “Isn't the point of their channel to show how you can travel cheap and still have fun? That was my takeaway from the last hour and a half.”
Jisung is quiet for a second because Minho is right; he shrugs again. “I guess.”
Minho taps fingers on the table. “Do you, though? Want to visit the places they've been to? Or just—travel and see new places in general?”
Jisung exhales softly. “Maybe. A bit.” An understatement, frankly. There's a reason why a lot of his favorite YouTube channels are travel vloggers. “My mother, she wanted to travel all over the world,” he offers wistfully. “I never really got to know her but that's what everyone who knew her has told me. My grandparents, mostly. Even my brother knows this about her. That's apparently why she left Seukje-ri right after high school. And then she met my Dad and they were supposed to travel the world, but then they had my brother, and then me, and her— their plans got derailed.” Jisung sighs softly. “I guess… I can kind of see the appeal in it. Seeing new places… experiencing new things. But you know, I've never even been able to explore my own country. Never even been to Jeju.”
He's trying to downplay his own desire; trying to be nonchalant about how much he would love to be able to go to places he has never been to before, to be able to experience life in ways different from the monotony of the last two decades. He doesn't really want to explain why he doesn't just up and leave; he doesn't really know how to explain what is holding him back.
“Well at least you've been to… where was it again—Malaysia!”
“Yeah but like I said, that's only because my family lives there.”
It's Minho's turn to shrug. “Still counts.”
“How about you?” Jisung asks, trying to divert the conversation away from himself.
Minho hums. “I've seen places, yes. Experienced lots of new things,” he says, tone playful. “I've traveled a lot.”
“Yeah? Like where?” Jisung finds himself leaning closer, curious.
Minho laughs. “Far away places you can only dream of,” he answers, teasing.
Jisung huffs; he wants to press more; wants to have Minho tell him all about his adventures so he can vicariously live through his experience, but Mrs. Choi, who works at the village hall across the street, is suddenly entering the store, and Minho has to get up and do his job.
When he's done with that; when Minho joins him again, Jisung simply starts another episode of the Bin & Chan vlog series.
Eight-year-old Jisung pressed his palm against Lee Know's, comparing the size of their hands and the shade of their skin.
They both had stubby fingers, but Jisung's were a tad smaller. Lee Know had an extra finger on both hands which fascinated him, but for some reason, he was most in awe of Lee Know's pearlescent, sky blue skin. It was a stark contrast to his own honey brown skin, partly born from genetics, but partly darkened from all the time he had been spending under the sun recently.
“You kind of, uh… um—shine? Shim—shimmer? Your skin. It's lam—lumin—I mean, under the sun—” Jisung stammered. The word he was looking for was luminous, but he was unable to properly convey what he wanted to say with his still immature vocabulary. “You glow!” he eventually went with, giving up on bigger words.
Lee Know laughed and curled his fingers with Jisung's, locking their hands together. “Where I'm from, the sun isn't as bright so the glow isn't as stark.”
Jisung pursed his lips, his big eyes closely observing his friend. He took in his features and made a mental note of all the ways they were the same; of all the ways they were different.
With his free hand, Jisung reached up for Lee Know's hair. His touch was tentative; curious. “It's a pretty color,” he complimented. It felt soft, much like Jisung's own, albeit not as thick. The color was a lovely lavender, and Jisung decided it was his new favorite.
“It'll get darker when I get older,” Lee Know shared, and it was only then that Jisung noticed his ears as well. They were a tad more pointed than Jisung's own, the left one decorated with a simple, black stud earring on the upper shell, but mostly Jisung's attention was drawn to them because they were literally glowing . They were so bright that Jisung thought if it was nighttime, they would be enough to illuminate the entire area around them.
“You're lighting up!” he observed cheerfully, playfully tugging at one of the ears only to have it glow even brighter.
Lee Know flinched, but he didn't swat Jisung's hand away. “They—they do that when our kind is happy,” he mumbled, and young as he was, Jisung understood what was implied—that his new friend was very happy. This knowledge made him incredibly joyful as well, and it showed in the way his toothy grin widened even more.
“I like this too,” he merrily chirps, poking the stud earring on Minho's right ear. “I went to the mall with my brother once and we passed by a place that gave you holes in your ears so you could wear earrings and he said he was going to get some when he goes to high school. I'm gonna do it too so I can be like my hyung! He's really cool and so are you Lee Know.” He paused, and then as an afterthought, he added, “I'm going to stop wearing my glasses too when I grow up.” He nodded, mostly as an affirmation to himself. “I'm going to be super cool!”
“I like the way you are now, Jisungie,” Lee Know mused.
“Well!” Jisung once again squeezed the hand that he was still holding in his. “I like you too, Lee Know!”
“You wear—?” Minho looks surprised at his appearance at the bakery that day. He's pointing at his eyes, and Jisung realizes that he means the glasses that Jisung has on.
“Uh, yeah.” Jisung slumps down at his usual seat. He suddenly realizes that it's the first time that Minho is seeing him in glasses and it makes him feel self-conscious. “Couldn't wake up properly this morning and in my half-blind attempt to get ready I accidentally spilled what was left of my contact solution.” He groans and rubs his palms all over his face; his dream was so nice that morning and he hadn't really wanted to get out of bed. He had spent at least twenty minutes trying to fall asleep again so he could be back in dreamland, eight years old and having the time of his life with his new best friend, the blue alien.
Then again, he didn't want to deprive himself of seeing Minho that day—but now that the older man is seeing him in his half unkempt state he's kind of regretting not staying in bed.
“Cute,” Minho murmurs, giving his hair a quick ruffle, messing it up more than it already is and Jisung feels his cheeks warm up. He decides that okay, maybe making his way to the bakery after delivering his grandfather's lunch like he regularly does wasn't such a bad idea.
“I should go to the nearest mall and buy more contact solution,” he surmises. “Maybe go shopping in general—if I finally get around to sending out my CV, I'll probably end up with a couple of job interviews lined up soon enough but with nothing appropriate to wear.” He takes a deep breath as he tries to be casual; he kind of wants to invite Minho to go with him but he wants to be smooth about it.
“You wanna go later?” Jeongin interjects, surprising Jisung because he hadn't even noticed the younger man come up to them. “I'm going downtown later and I'm bringing your grandparents’ truck. I'm picking Jiheon up after her work and then we're gonna catch a late night movie. I don't mind going a little early to do some shopping myself.” He glances at Minho, and then at Jisung. “You guys in?”
Bless Jeongin, Jisung thinks. Doing God's work for him. He looks at Minho first, waiting for him to give an answer. When the older one shrugs, Jisung nods in affirmative. “Okay sure, it would be easier than taking the bus. Jiheon wouldn't mind?”
Jeongin's girlfriend, Jiheon, also grew up in the village, but she's a few too many years younger than Jisung so they never were in middle school or high school at the same time. Thanks to Jeongin, he's gotten reacquainted with her since coming back to Seukje-ri, but she's also been very busy with her internship, so Jisung still doesn't really feel like he knows her very well.
“Nah.” Jeongin gestures with dismissal. “It's fine, but I'll text her to let her know it won't be just us.”
“That's because Heonie's tired of Innie,” Minho teases. “She'd be excited to spend time with us instead.”
“Yah, hyung!” Jeongin huffs, but the laughter that follows is proof enough that he isn't bothered by Minho's comments. “Just be back here before 4. Jiheon gets off work around 6, so we have to get to town before that.” He leaves them with a salute, and then he rounds back to the counter just as a customer arrives.
“Back here?” Jisung straightens up in his seat and turns to Minho. “You're going somewhere?”
Minho holds up the brown bag he's cradling in his arms which Jisung probably should've noticed before. “Delivering bread to Mrs. Ahn,” he explains. “I also told her I'd take her old washer to the recycling yard in the next village.”
“Ah.” Jisung tries his damnedest not to show his disappointment at the fact that Minho isn't going to be behind the bakery counter that day; he knows the man does odd jobs here and there for the families in Seukje-ri, but he supposes he's been spoiled because over the last week or so, Minho has mostly just been at the bakery, keeping Jisung company during quiet afternoon hours.
“You wanna come with?” Minho suddenly asks, interrupting Jisung's sad boy train of thought.
“Oh!” Jisung immediately lights up. “Can I?”
Minho shrugs, but there's a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “If you wanna.”
“Yeah, sure!” Jisung immediately stands up, not even bothering to acknowledge the embarrassment he should be feeling at being over enthused by a simple invitation from Minho. “Hey Innie!” he calls out to the younger man. “Do you mind if I leave my laptop with you behind the counter?”
Jeongin looks at him just as he hands over change to the customer, and he finishes the transaction. “Sure?”
“Okay, cool.” Jisung grins. “See you around 4!”
Outside, Minho places the brown paper bag filled with bread in the basket of a bike that Jisung recognises was once Jeongin's.
“You want one?'' Minho offers, taking a bun out of the bag and offering it to Jisung as the latter unlocks his own bike from the rack.
“I thought those were Mrs. Ahn's?” Jisung eyes him warily.
Minho chuckles. “There are some extras. For the road.”
“What's the filling?” Jisung asks, honestly tempted by the delicious smell of the freshly baked bread.
“Red bean,” Minho answers.
“Oh!” Jisung lights up and eagerly accepts the offered bun. “My favorite.”
Minho beams, proud and seemingly knowing, as if he already knew as much. He grabs a piece of bread for himself as well before mounting his bike. “Mine too,” he says. “It's how I met the Yangs… followed the smell of bread to their bakery, and I haven't left since.”
Jisung just laughs, assuming that Minho is talking in hyperbole. “It reminds me of childhood,” he murmurs in admittance. Red bean buns were his grandfather's choice of apology bread.
Minho smiles mysteriously; intriguingly. “Ah, me too.” He stuffs the bread in his mouth, holding it between his teeth, and he kicks off his ride, Jisung left laughing as he pedals after him.
As usual, when Jisung is spending time with Minho, the next few hours fly by quickly. Mrs. Ahn generously feeds them a deliciously filling meal for lunch, supposedly in exchange for helping her get rid of her old appliances—with Jisung around, she asks that they also help her get rid of her old mini fridge on top of the already promised washer. After the feast she served them, it felt awkward to decline.
“It was a trap,” Jisung whispers to Minho when he's sure that Mrs. Ahn is out of earshot. They're attaching a pull cart to Jisung's ride, and simply strapping on the old washer to Jeongin's old bike. “Are you sure you can balance and carry that thing on your back?” he asks, slightly worried. “It's an uphill ride to the next village.”
In the end, it's Jisung who struggles a little on the way. That doesn't stop him from ogling the way Minho appears to pedal with ease despite his cargo, his thigh muscles tightening as he rides up the road.
Jisung has been very careful about admitting to himself how attracted he really is to Minho. He's gorgeous, yes, but Jisung purports he can say as much because he's not blind and that Minho is beautiful, is simple fact.
But the way he always feels hyper aware when Minho is around; the way his heart races when Minho would smile at him, and the way he simply feels happy being around the older man… he can't really deny it anymore. Minho isn't just attractive, but Jisung is attracted to him.
It isn't as if he's completely inexperienced in the romance area. In high school, he kept to himself, yes, but when he was living in Seoul, Jisung had gone on dates here and there. Some of them were even born from efforts he made himself. A few of those dalliances only lasted a night at best, and a few of them went on for three, sometimes four, dates, but none really ever stuck. And Jisung didn't mind; he was used to the loneliness. He never expected anything more than brief fun. With Minho, though, he thinks he wants to have expectations and that's why he doesn't know what to do next.
“You and Minho-hyung have been spending a lot of time together, haven't you?” Jeongin comments as he and Jisung stand in line together at the ticket booth at the Cineplex.
Earlier, Jisung and Minho had finished their errand with little time to spare. Nevertheless, Jisung had opted for a quick shower at home, and ultimately the three of them hadn't been able to roll into downtown until around six in the evening. While Jeongin went to pick his girlfriend up, Minho had accompanied Jisung in buying his contact solution, along with a few other items his grandmother asked him to get, like a new pair of thermal socks and protein supplements that they don't really carry at any of the pharmacies closer to their village. He didn't have time left to go shopping for new clothes, but he didn't mind because that had mostly been only an excuse he came up with so he could ask Minho to go downtown with him.
They had dinner at the Burger King next to the Cineplex, and now here they are—Minho had gone to get them popcorn at the snack bar, accompanied by Jiheon, while Jisung and Jeongin queue for tickets.
“Yeah?” Jisung gives him a puzzled look, pretending that he doesn't understand what the younger is getting at even though he thinks he knows. He's never been a subtle person when it comes to emotions; he's always worn them on his sleeve, so he supposes his crush is obvious. At least Minho hasn't been treating him differently for it. “We have?”
Jeongin laughs. “Okay, sure, play dumb.”
Jisung scoffs. “I just don't get your point.”
“I'm just making observations,” Jeongin points out. The line inches forward and a beat passes, “He's a bit odd isn't he?”
Jisung's brow furrows because— this again. “You kinda mentioned that before,” he hums, trying to hold back his mild irritation.
“I don't mean it as an insult,” Jeongin presses. “He's just interesting, is what I'm saying. He's… four-dimensional sometimes. Maybe more.” Jisung chuckles. “16D or something. Like he's on a different plane from everyone else.”
“He—” Jisung frowns. “He doesn't feel like that, though? I mean sure, sometimes I don't completely understand him but… he doesn't feel out of this world or whatever.” If anything, Minho is the first person that has made Jisung feel like he's not completely other.
“Again, not a bad thing.” Jeongin affirms, putting his hands up in defeat. “And that's kind of my point! With you he seems perfectly normal. You fit perfectly, like you're two of a kind. It's fun to watch you together.”
Jisung puffs his cheeks out; he's still unsure about what Jeongin is saying but there's clearly no malice behind his remarks so he tries to let it go. “Sure, I guess.”
When they get to the front, Jeongin asks for four tickets for When The Stars Shine, a romance movie that has been the talk of the internet recently. Apparently it has made everyone who has seen it cry, but Jisung immediately perks up with confusion when Jeongin mentions the nme.
“Wait, aren't we watching Death Toll?” he asks, mouth pursing and hand motioning for the booth employee to pause from processing their order.
“What? No!” Jeongin looks taken aback. “We don't want to watch a grim and gory horror movie.”
“But Minho-hyung and I were so excited about that one!” Jisung huffs. “Come on, Innie… we thought that was what we were going to see!”
“No—nope!” Jeongin decidedly protests. “I'm gonna need to be able to sleep tonight, thank you very much. And Jiheon hates horror films too.”
Jisung frowns and Jeongin mirrors his expression; meanwhile the person behind them in line hisses at them to hurry it up.
“Let's just split up then,” Jeongin decides. “Because I'm not budging.”
“Fine.” Jisung sighs. He glances behind the ticketer, at the display showing the screening times. The romance movie doesn't start until twenty minutes after the horror one—which begins in approximately five minutes—but the latter is also roughly ten minutes longer, so their movies would at least finish close to each other.
“See? You and Minho-hyung are two of a kind. Same taste and all,” Jeongin comments after they pay and he hands the right tickets to Jisung.
“Why? Because we both wanna watch a horror movie? We have an entire theater just like us, then.” Jisung huffs, even though his face feels absolutely warm.
“Okay, you know what, maybe you just want an excuse to cling to him when the killer appears on screen,” Jeongin teases.
Jisung scoffs. “I'll have you know—I don't easily fold at horror movies!”
When they meet with Minho and Jiheon, he tries his best to push away the butterflies in his stomach, grinning as he waves the tickets in Minho's face. “We're watching Death Toll, hyung!” he announces; he jerks his thumb in Jeongin's direction. “Meanwhile these two are gonna be gross and watch some sappy movie.”
Jiheon wrinkles her nose at them. “If the two of you get nightmares tonight that's not on us.”
Jisung flashes a co*cky smile. He isn't really worried; his dreams, after all, have been very immaculate recently.
The horror movie ends up having one too many jump scares for Jisung's liking and a plot that is so thin, he ends up calling the big twist ten minutes into the run time. Minho is impressed by that, laughing at Jisung's little whispered comments throughout the movie that he makes behind their shared bucket of popcorn, that Jisung can't bring himself to be disappointed by the film itself.
They have time to waste after their screening ends, especially when they bolt out of there the second the credits start to roll.
“Wanna go get coffee while we wait for them?” Minho asks, gesturing at the Starbucks that shares a building with the theater.
Jisung is tempted, but, “‘M still super full,” he says, hand patting his stomach. He had a big meal, and on top of that, he had snacked on popcorn and M&M's throughout the movie. “Besides, I really shouldn't have caffeine at this time of night.”
“Yeah, actually,” Minho agrees, even though it had been his suggestion. “Same.”
They end up loitering right outside the entrance of the cineplex. It's late, close to 11PM, and once the rush of exiting moviegoers has passed, it's mostly quiet.
“How eerie,” Minho remarks as the chilly evening breeze kisses their cheeks. “Do you hear the bell?”
Jisung huffs. In the movie, bells signified the next death, and the line do you hear the bells? had been uttered a few times by various characters. Jisung, of course, hears nothing of the sort. “Are you trying to scare me?”
“Well—”
Jisung punches his arm before Minho can say any more. “Shut up.”
Minho snickers, and Jisung finds himself staring at him. The moonlight shines on him directly, illuminating and highlighting his features even better than when he's under the sun. The purple sheen of his hair is even more apparent, shimmering— sparkling, almost.
“Tell me the truth, hyung,” Jisung starts, teasing yet mesmerized. “Do you put glitter in your hair?”
“What?” Minho laughs and instinctively reaches up to run his fingers through his hair.
Jisung chortles. “Nothing. Just—” he looks over and his first instinct is to reach out to do the same; to run his hand through Minho's shiny, dark purple locks, but he controls himself. “How did you get that color? It's almost like… a deep amethyst. But it's only like that under the. moonlight.”
Minho laughs. “What?” he shakes his head, and his hair lightly bounces.
Soft, Jisung thinks. He really wants to touch but he doesn't want to be weird or invasive.
“It's my natural color,” Minho says, attempting to wink, but ultimately failing when both eyes blink, just one squintier than the other. It makes Jisung laugh and assume he's joking.
“Whatever.” Jisung rolls his eyes with fondness he can't quite hold back. “You can keep your beauty secrets.”
Minho giggles, shoulders shaking, and when Jisung's gaze inadvertently lands on his lips, he notices them quivering. It dawns on him how much he wants to kiss the older man, a simple yet profound—and absolutely damning—realization that has his own breath hitching. Before he can figure out what to do with this brand new, acute awareness, they start to hear people from inside the building start to filter out; the other movie is over, and so is their moment alone together.
“Come on, let's go and meet Innie and his girl,” Jisung says, a frustrated sigh escaping him involuntarily.
Minho hums, and as they both turn to head back inside, Jisung suddenly feels Minho reach for him. Minho's hand is smaller than his, Jisung realizes, but not by much and the difference only allows their fingers to slot together perfectly.
Minho doesn't say anything, and if Jeongin or Jiheon notice, neither do they. Jisung's heart pounds in his chest, and his cheeks burn—but all the way home a smile doesn't leave his face.
Something shifts after that night. Jisung stops pretending to hang out at the bakery for the Wi-Fi and he starts accompanying Minho to some of his odd jobs around the village – at least the ones he does during afternoons, because not even Minho is going to get him to wake up at ungodly hours just so he could help farm the fields.
When it's just the two of them, they hold hands like it's the most normal thing in the world – and maybe it is, at least to Minho. It should be to Jisung as well, but he likes it too much for it to be; then again, he has never had any other friend he could casually hold hands with, so what does he know?
“So this is where you learned your maths?” Minho asks as he peers into the windows of the elementary school. The building is empty and quiet, with students out for vacation.
Jisung is leading Minho through the school; through his shortcut to show him his special place. Not counting his older brother, who had camped out with him there once when Jisung was only ten, Minho is the first person he's bringing there, and it feels right.
“Come on,” he says, tugging at Minho's hand. Even though he regularly does this, he would still rather keep his trespassing quick and to a minimum. “I hated maths, by the way.”
Minho laughs, and stumbles after Jisung as they enter the woods. “What subject did you like?”
“In grade school? Recess.” He makes it sound like a joke but it was a hundred percent true. Instead of playing with his classmates he would sneak away and do his own exploring.
Minho snorts. “Recess. Of course.”
“And reading,” Jisung admits sincerely. “In high school I liked Korean. Had a teacher who was really good at teaching poetry and all the classics.” He glances over his shoulder and grins at Minho. “I also enjoyed composition class. I ran a newsletter in high school, actually. That was my extracurricular. Me, Innie and this other boy named Yongbok made up the entire staff.”
“Jeongin? Wrote for a newsletter?” Minho huffs, clearly both surprised and amused.
It's Jisung's turn to laugh. “You could say he was in charge of distribution. It was mostly my project, anyway. I did most of the work. I established the club when I got to high school, and it disbanded after I graduated.”
“That's cool.”
Jisung hums. He doesn't volunteer the information that it was a newsletter that revolved around UFO and occasionally, supposed supernatural sightings—basically anything and everything about the unknown. Jisung regularly looked up theories on Area 51 sightings and reported on them in the newsletter. One time he and Yongbok had gone on a two hour trip to Daegu to interview a middle school student who purported that she had an alien encounter. The entire project didn't help his reputation as a weirdo in high school, and even though Minho probably wouldn't judge him for it, he doesn't really want to revisit those memories. That high school students are generally way more harsh than children in elementary school, is one thing he had learned back then.
When they emerge from the trees and they get to Jisung's quiet clearing, Minho lets out a soft gasp.
“Here—” he mumbles, brow furrowed as he looks around the area.
Jisung grins. “It's nice here isn't it? It's quiet, and at night you see all the stars so brightly,” he shares, glancing up at the sky only to squint and shield his gaze with a hand because the sun is still high up and it's blinding.
“Yeah, it is,” Minho agrees softly, as he and Jisung squeeze together on the dead tree stump, knees pressing together.
“When I was a kid, I'd tell halmeoni that I was gonna go and play with friends and then I'd spend hours here playing by myself.” A beat passes before Jisung adds, so quietly that it's barely audible, “I didn't really have any friends.”
Minho squeezes Jisung's knee and turns to face him. It's only then that the latter realizes how close they are, and he feels so self conscious that he doesn't dare turn and meet Minho's gaze.
“Even the Yang boys?” Minho asks gently.
“The Yangs were always the nicest,” Jisung admits reflectively. “But they didn't—I didn't—we didn't really play together as children. Innie didn't really become a friend until high school, and even then barely. He was popular—all the Yang boys were. I never was. No one liked being around me.” It still stings to say it out loud, but he isn't even really sad about any of it anymore, Jisung thinks. He's only being factual.
He thinks about Lee Know and the way he's been regularly featuring in his dreams more and more. This was their place; in his dreams, this clearing is where they spend all their time together. He liked being with Jisung, and Jisung liked being with him. Mentally, he berates himself – Lee Know was a figment of his imagination, created to make himself feel less lonely. Of course he liked Jisung's company.
“—ing with you.”
Jisung almost misses what Minho is saying. “What was that?”
“I like being with you,” Minho simply repeats; his tone even, his words straightforward with no room for misinterpretation.
Jisung's smile curves wider. “I like being with you too.” It's surprisingly easy to believe them coming from the other man; surprisingly easier yet to say them back.
Minho nudges his knee against Jisung's. “My childhood wasn't—well, I wouldn't say it was unhappy, but it was a little lonely sometimes.” He rubs his palms on his knees, shifts a little in his seat. “It was just me and my mom and we traveled a lot. I hated it.”
“Oh?” Jisung finally twists his body to face him, but this time it's Minho with a faraway look in his eyes.
“I just wanted to stay in one place when I was young.” Minho chuckles. “It's funny because now that I'm older I can't—I can't imagine doing that anymore. Staying put for too long.”
“Ah.” Jisung deflates at the casual comment. He knows what Minho's implying. Sooner or later he's going to have to pick his feet up again and go.
“Once, when I was a kid I tried running away,” Minho shares.
“Yeah? Where'd you go?” One time, in Malaysia, Jisung had tried doing the same thing, but he only really got as far as one block away from the house he was living in with his father and brother. He had been pretty helpless and hopeless over there, unable to speak or read the language; that little misadventure had been one of the catalysts to his father agreeing to send him back to South Korea.
Minho smiles enigmatically. “Do you think certain meetings can change your life?” he asks instead of answering Jisung's question.
“I think every single person you meet changes your life.” Jisung says. “Even by just a little.”
Minho hums. “When I ran away I met this other kid. You have to understand, up until that point I only had my mother – and in our travels, I met many people but they were all adults that she dealt with. People around whom I always had to behave, had to be perfect for. And then I met this boy and he had hands sticky from candy, but also had the brightest sparkle in his eyes, and the cheekiest grin, even though he was missing one of his canines at the time.” He laughs. “He taught me how to play a lot of games and it was the most fun I've had in my life at that point. I remember, that boy once told me that he wanted to see the world when he grew up.”
“What happened to him? That boy? Did he ever see the world?”
Minho shrugs. “My mom found me and I didn't see him again after that.”
“Where… where was your dad?” Jisung asks tentatively
Minho shrugs again. “I'd never met him. My mother, she moved around a lot even before I was born… For the longest time, she wouldn't even talk to me about my father.”
“I see…” Jisung nods slowly. “I was the opposite,” he shares. “Had a dad—no mom.” He smiles wistfully. “Appa didn't like talking about her either. Mostly it was my brother and my grandparents who told me about her. They're the ones who told me that my mom dreamed of seeing the world. For a while, I thought maybe a part of me could want that, too.”
“But?”
“What do you mean but?”
“Just figured there's a but because you ended up not traveling a lot.”
“I don't know,” Jisung admits. “It's not that I don't want to, it's like there's something here that I can't bring myself to leave yet.” He knows he could have looked for work overseas if he really wanted to, that he could have chosen to travel even just within the country. But no—after graduation, the first thing he did was pack up and head back home. Even he doesn't know how to justify that decision.
“Your grandparents?” Minho presses.
It isn't them, but Jisung isn't sure how to explain that he doesn't know what it is either. He's waiting for something unknown; something that he feels trapped and unable to move on from. What it is, he doesn't know and saying that it's his grandparents have always been the easiest shield. “I guess,” he answers.
Minho looks at him as if he's seeing right through his false answer. “I hope you figure it out, whatever it is,” he says eventually.
Jisung looks at him again, and finally their eyes meet. There's a glint of something unfamiliar in Minho's eyes; curiosity, amusem*nt—desire, maybe, if Jisung allows himself to boldly hope.
“Yeah,” he whispers, “me too.” His gaze involuntarily drops down to Minho's lips and, unconsciously, his tongue peeks out, wetting his own.
When he lifts his gaze again and he sees that Minho is still staring at him, so intense, he becomes sure. It is desire, and Minho wants him as much as Jisung wants him. The realization is enough; Jisung allows himself to forget everything else; allows himself to ignore their surroundings, and he simply leans in, fingers lightly touching Minho's cheek as their lips meet and press together.
At first there's only quiet; stillness. A countdown starts ticking in Jisung's head—three, two, one. Just as he's about to pull away, shy, nervous, Minho wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer.
And then his mouth is open, waiting, inviting, and Jisung gives in. This time it's the kind of kiss that's earnest, eager; it takes Jisung's breath away and gives it right back.
When they pull away, Jisung's cheeks feel warm. Minho's eyes look dazed, and his lips are slick, puffy. And then Jisung notices his ears, bright red and practically glowing, and Jisung feels his heart skip a beat.
Jisung feels like he's on Cloud 9 when he gets home. His grandmother seems a little taken aback by his positive countenance, to the point of calling him out on it.
“You seem especially chipper,” she says with a fond yet surprised expression, and it makes Jisung wonder if he's been appearing gloomier than he thought.
He doesn't know how to respond, so he just smiles, kisses her on the cheek, and then he proceeds not just just to help her cook dinner, but he goes on to clean up afterwards without being asked to.
After dinner, he retreats into his room with one goal in mind. When he was younger, he had discovered that his room had a few loose floor boards—they had been helpful when his grandmother wanted him to clean his room, because he would stuff his toys in there and call it a day.
He's pretty sure his grandparents knew about his hidey hole—it's their house after all—but they never really said anything.
The first thing he finds inside is a tent bag that was technically his brother's. He pulls it out, pretty sure that it's missing a few pegs and poles and that's why his brother left it in his care, but he thinks he'll dust it off in the morning anyway.
As he pulls out old random toys and books, he can't help but laugh because he's forgotten how much he used to just shove in there so his room would give the appearance of being clean.
He pulls out a thick collection of papers stapled together, all printouts of articles on UFO sightings and even blog entries of supposed encounters with the third kind. So much of his allowance was spent on having these printed at the village hall where they offered printing and photocopying services. Jisung winces as he flips through the pages and skims over the words; he hasn't really stopped believing that there's other life out there somewhere, but some of these articles are clearly not proof of anything, as entertaining as they were to read—but once upon a time some of the testimonials were close to being his personal gospel.
He sighs and feels around under the floor some more. He finds a tin box that he has genuinely forgotten about; it's from very far back—he’s pretty sure he hasn't seen it since he was a little boy, 8 at the oldest, before his father had taken him to live in Malaysia.for a year.
He opens it and smiles softly. The first item that greets him is an old picture of him and his mother, their background a nice view of an ocean sunset. He's around a year old in it, two at best; he certainly doesn't have memories of the picture being taken but he has memories of holding on to it after she passed.
There are a few other items; a curiously shaped seashell, and a flat stone that he thinks could be good for skipping. His memories relating to those things are hazy, but he thinks that he got them when he was out exploring with his brother when they both lived in Seukje-ri. Once upon a time, they really were close, he muses, and he makes a mental resolve to check on with him soon. There are other pictures; mostly of him and his family, his father, mother, brother, and his heart aches from missing them. There are also some Malaysian coins, and he knows those are from his father, given to him when he came home to pick them up and take them with him.
And then, at the very bottom he finds what he had been looking for. An earring; a black stud, made of onyx, he thinks. He gasps softly to himself because frankly he had been half expecting that it wouldn't be there at all. The only memory he has of it surely can't be real.
Or could it?
He remembers the way Minho's ears had gone so red they were almost glowing, and hope sparks in his chest.
And then he laughs to himself.
“Don't be a f*cking idiot,” he berates himself under his breath.
He finally has something good going for him, and he'd be an idiot to risk it. Even Minho will probably think he's crazy if he brings it up.
“My mother is going to pick me up soon,” Lee Know said.
It had already been a week since they first met, and Jisung had never met Lee Know's mother. He didn't think much of it—it wasn't as if Lee Know had met his grandparents. The adults in their life were mere afterthoughts when they were together.
They were laying on the ground together, shoulders pressed against each other's, eyes closed as they bathed in the sun's warmth.
“I don't have a mom anymore,” Jisung answered.
“I'm sorry,” Lee Know said softly.
“Halmeoni told me that my mother had the same cheeks as me,” Jisung volunteered, poking and pinching his own face with his free hand as he talked.
“Oh. I got my skin color from my mom!” Lee Know giggled.
“It's pretty,” Jisung told him, still fascinated by the pearlescent glow of Lee Know's blue skin. “What about your dad? Get anything from him? My hyung said we got our eyebrows from him.”
“Oh.” Lee Know's bright countenance dimmed. “I don't know. I don't have a dad.”
“I'm sorry,” Jisung mirrored his earlier words.
A beat passed, tree leaves rustling as the warm summer breeze blew past them.
“We have each other!” Jisung offered cheerfully.
“Oh.” Lee Know giggled. “We do!"
“You're like my soulmate,” Jisung declared.
“What's that?”
Jisung turned on his side and opened his eyes so he could look at Lee Know who, as it happened, was already looking at him. “I heard it in a movie,” he explained, grinning. “I asked my brother what it means and he said it's someone who is very important to you. Someone who is your other half! Someone who is always fun to be around!” He burst into a flurry of giggles while Lee Know broke into a wide smile.
“Soulmates,” Lee Know echoed. “I like that.”
It's a few days later, in the middle of the night when Jisung hears soft tapping against his window. He doesn't think much of it at first; he assumes it's birds, maybe—or even rain. He turns away from the sound and pulls his blanket over his head; for several seconds the sound stops.
And then it starts up again just as Jisung starts slipping back to unconsciousness.
He groans and throws off the covers, forcing himself up to his feet so he can stomp towards the windows. When he pushes it open, he finds Minho right there, smiling at him and carrying a bundled up blanket under his arms; the irritation that had built up dissipates in a split second.
“What are you doing here?” he whispers. He's questioning Minho's presence, but the truth of it is that he's feeling somersaults in his stomach. Something about Minho's presence in the middle of the night when everyone should be asleep, calling for him through his window instead of the front door, seems incredibly romantic—and Jisung feels silly for thinking it.
“There's a meteor shower tonight,” Minho tells him quietly. “Do you want to watch it with me?”
Oh. Jisung places his hand over his heart, willing it to calm down. The invitation has him feeling even more things. “Okay,” he quickly agrees. “Just let me get my jacket.”
He pulls on his favorite trapper hat and his green bomber jacket, and then he sneaks out of the window and follows Minho's lead. Their hands are clasped and it's not long before he realizes that the other man is leading him through the elementary school grounds; through the exact same shortcut he had taught Minho several days ago.
“Are we going…?”
“It's the best place to watch the sky,” Minho says, nonchalant and matter of fact.
Once they emerge into the clearing, Minho lays out his blanket on the ground and then he proceeds to unceremoniously plop down on it.
“Come on,” he gestures for Jisung to join him, hardly waiting before he lays on his back.
Jisung has to hold back a giggle when he crawls in next to Minho. He lowers himself on his back, his hat naturally falling off his head in the process, and then they're lying side by side, shoulders pressed together. When Jisung looks up at the night sky, at the half moon shining down on them, surrounded by a twinkling of stars, something inside him startles.
It feels like déjà vu.
Funny how it's not the first time he's been struck with that feeling recently.
Minho's hand slips into his, and Jisung feels his heart stutter just before his entire countenance relaxes.
This is nice, he thinks, glancing sideways and taking in his companion's profile.
“It is,” Minho agrees, and Jisung realizes he had actually said the words out loud. “Look—!” Minho sounds excited, almost like a kid as he points to the sky.
Jisung forces his attention away from Minho; diverts it to the vast night sky instead; to the stars — which he now realizes are streaking across the sky one by one.
“Whoa,” he mutters. “It's started.”
He has a vague recollection of witnessing something similar to this long ago. It happened one night, when he was living in Kuala Lumpur; it was much less of a display back then, pollution and city night lights mixing with what would have been a prettier view. As was usual when he was younger, it was his brother who had heard about the shower and he was the one who had woken Jisung up so they could watch together. ‘Make a wish,’ he had said, and so Jisung did—he just couldn't remember what it was for the longest time.
He feels Minho squeeze his hand and he thinks he just might recall it now.
“Do you believe?” he asks. “In life beyond the Milky Way—in life among the stars?”
Minho doesn't hesitate; barely takes a second to consider the question. “Yes,” he answers, direct and matter-of-fact. He doesn't sound skeptical, nor does he sound like he's just humoring Jisung. He simply sounds sure of his answer.
It emboldens Jisung. “I do, too,” he whispers.
Minho turns his head to look at him, and even though Jisung keeps his focus on the night sky, he can tell from his periphery that Minho is smiling at him.
“It's just logical, isn't it?” Minho points out. “The universe is so vast. It's incredibly myopic and narcissistic to assume that life only exists on this planet.”
Jisung laughs. “Well. That's humans for you. Myopic. Narcissistic.” He closes his eyes and inches closer to Minho; allows his cheek to press against the latter's comforting shoulder. “I met an alien once,” he whispers so, so, so softly.
Minho doesn't say anything, doesn't react to his sudden revelation and so Jisung keeps going.
“I met an alien and I befriended an alien,” he says quietly. “His skin was blue and his ears glowed brightly when he was happy. He told me he was lost, and when I offered to help him find his way he said it was okay, I didn't have to. So I asked him to play with me instead. In this very clearing, these very woods, I taught him how to play hide-and-seek, and tag, and I even shared my marble collection with him. I even introduced him to Pokémon!” Jisung laughs, almost breathless because the more he recalled things about alien friend, the more he couldn't stop talking, not even to pause for breath. All the dreams he's been having of Lee Know recently have transformed into full, high definition memories, sharp and clear.
Minho, however, continues to be silent and it slows Jisung's roll.
“f*ck,” Jisung hisses, breath finally caught. f*ck. Given a moment, he suddenly feels ridiculous and embarrassed. “Sorry,” he says, unsure what exactly it is that he's apologizing for. He forces out laughter. “I had a very vivid imagination as a kid, I guess. That's what my brother used to tell me.” He exhales shakily. “At school, one time, I told this kid, Hyunjin—I sat next to him in class so I thought we could be friends. So I told him that my best friend was an alien and he—he laughed at me.” He pauses, nervous. “You can laugh too, if you want,” he mumbles to Minho.
“Why would I laugh?” Minho finally speaks up, mild confusion evident in his tone.
Jisung feels him touch his chin, urging him to turn sideways to face him.
“How well do you remember your alien friend?”
“Vividly,” Jisung admits feebly.
“Well then, if it's so vivid in your head, what makes you think it was just your imagination?” Once again Minho speaks matter-of-factly, like he has all logic and rationale on his side.
Jisung bottom lip quivers; for a couple of passing seconds, he and Minho stare at each other.
“Because,” he starts, voice cracking. “He never came back.”
And that's it, he realizes. That's what has been tying him to Seukje-ri. Once upon a time his alien friend had promised to come back for him, and this is the only place he would know to come back to.
Jisung laughs out loud, mostly at himself, because now it feels even sillier. He was waiting for nothing, clearly; he couldn't figure it out because it was nothing. All along, a part of him had remained 8 years old, hoping his supposed alien friend would come back for him in this little village that might as well be in the middle of nowhere.
“Maybe he's still trying to find his way to you,” Minho comments casually, intruding past Jisung's spiralling thoughts.
That makes Jisung laugh even more. Minho is absolutely the best, he thinks, because the dryness of his tone actually manages to anchor him. When he lifts his gaze, Minho is so close to him and Jisung is hit with certain observations.
Under the stars, under the night sky, Minho appears to be shimmering.
With his free hand he reaches up to rub his eyes. “Minho…?” he calls out gently.
“Hmm?”
“Why are you literally blue?”
The memory is clear as day now.
“I'm leaving soon,” Lee Know had told him after stuffing in his mouth the last of the red bean bun Jisung had brought with him to share.
The sun was about to disappear over the horizon, the day almost over. Jisung knew his grandparents would be looking for him soon, and if he didn't start to make his way home in the next few minutes they would likely send his brother for him.
Not that his brother knew where he was.
“What do you mean leaving soon?” he asked.
Lee Know chuckled but there was no joy in his tone. If anything it was the opposite, and even at only eight years old, Jisung could detect that something was wrong, he just didn't understand it at the time.
“My mother found me and she's picking me up,” Lee Know finally explained. All along, Jisung figured that Minho was not much older than himself, but in that moment Minho's expression carried a certain tiredness that Jisung had, at the time, only ever seen on adults. “I'm gonna go,” Lee Know continued. “Soon, I won't be here.”
“Oh.” Eight-year-old Jisung felt his entire being deflate. “But. Why?”
Lee Know shrugged. “Because she's my mother. I have to be with her.”
“My father left me and my brother here and he went away,” Jisung whispered petulantly. “He said he'll come back,” he added after a beat, almost like an afterthought. He had a lot of complicated feelings on the matter, none that he could fully comprehend at the time, at his very young age.
“I'll come back,” Lee Know volunteered, his voice filled with renewed resolve. He took both of Jisung's hands and gripped them tightly like he was afraid to let go. “I'll come back for you!”
Jisung grinned; he was missing one of his canines, but he absolutely didn't care. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Pinky promise?”
“What's that?”
And then he had taught Lee Know what pinky promises were and how they went, and his heart had immediately felt comfortable. Trusting. Assured.
When he was a little boy, he always wore a threaded bracelet on his left wrist. He and his older brother each had one, and his was blue and red. His mother had braided them long ago; when he was three he had to loop it twice around his wrist, but at eight, he had since readjusted the fit.
He winced as he focused on untying it. Lee Know looked confused at first but after Jisung succeeded in taking it off, he had proceeded to wrap the item around Lee Know's tiny, pretty blue wrist instead.
“This is all I have from my mother so you have to give it back when we meet again,” he said simply.
“Oh.” Lee Know blinked, and he looked so cute that despite the tense atmosphere, Jisung had burst into an enthusiastic giggle fit. “Okay then!” Lee Know nodded and then he unpinned the black stud he wore on his ear. “Where I come from, we get one of these every time we pass a new milestone!” he explained. “I got this after I passed basic navigation!” What that meant, Jisung wasn't sure. “You also have to keep it for me until I come back for it, okay?”
“Okay.” Jisung nodded eagerly; he may be young but he understood that the earring was something important to Lee Know. “Okay!”
At that point, the sun had all but completely gone, replaced by the moon and its companion stars.
“I really need to go,” he said, aware that if he got in trouble then he would have a harder time seeing Minho again before he left. “I'll see you later, okay Lee Know?”
“Okay.” Lee Know smiled and Jisung had been overtaken by an urge to hug him, so he did.
The embrace was quick but tight, and it felt right and comfortable.
“Take care, Lee Know!” he said after he pulled away, waving goodbye before ultimately starting to make his way back home.
“Take care, Han Jisung!” Lee Know's voice echoed behind him.
“It's really you?” Jisung asks, mild awe evident in his tone. He sits up, brow furrowed as he looks down at Minho, studying his features intently as if he can't believe anything anymore.
He reaches for Minho's face; allows his fingertips to glide across his skin, exploring his features, and Minho simply lets him. He's so beautiful, Jisung thinks, even now that he's a pale shade of blue—or, maybe more so now that he is this color, his skin iridescent under the moonlight. He touches Minho's ears, more pointed than he remembers from the last few weeks, now more aligned with his memories of Lee Know. Minho has always worn a variety of earrings from the day Jisung first met him, but now Jisung understands; remembers what they're meant to symbolize because of childhood memories that he's slowly piecing together in full. His fingers tangle through Minho's thick head of hair, now definitely a rich shade of purple, a lot darker than the shade of lavender it had been when they were children.
“How?” he finally asks.
“Does it bother you that I look different?” Minho asks. “Because I can—”
Jisung watches, and in a split second Minho's features transform. His ears go back to being rounder at the tips and the color of his skin goes back to a peachy flesh.
“No, no—” he argues. “You were—you're beautiful,” he stresses. “I was just confused?”
Minho chuckles, and he sits up to face Jisung at eye level. “My kind has the ability to alter our physical appearance. We… we travel a lot, so…” he shrugs. “It's a necessary ability so we can fit in better with locals.”
Jisung purses his lips, so many questions coming to mind. The most important one surfaces and, nervous, he averts his gaze. “You never came back like you promised, why?”
“I did, though,” Minho says. He sighs and leans forward, forehead resting on Jisung's shoulder. “I came back the year after and you weren't here.”
Oh, Jisung thinks. It makes sense because the year after, he had been in Malaysia.
“And then I came back again,” Minho adds. “I'm here now.”
“That's… true,” Jisung acquiesces.
Minho hums. “Do you want to hear my entire story?”
Jisung doesn't answer immediately; they both pull away from each other at the same time and meet each other's stares instead.
“Yes, please,” he says quietly.
Minho breaks out a small smile; nuzzles Jisung's nose with his own. He reaches inside his jeans pocket, and when he pulls out his hand Jisung lets out a gasp. On his palm is a bracelet made of red and blue threads, looking old and worn out.
“I wore this every day for years,” Minho said softly as he reaches for Jisung's hand. “On the day I arrived here again, it snapped and I was afraid I'd lose it before I could give it back.”
He pauses after it's done tying it around Jisung's wrist. Their eyes meet and Jisung feels a little heady, knowing this is real but still afraid to believe. He fiddles with the thread bracelet and swallows quietly.
“You said you were going to tell me your story,” he mutters.
Minho chuckles and his eyes literally twinkle. “I think you knew this before,” he starts, “but my real name is ఌꨄ︎ఌ︎☆᯾⁂☦︎ఌ︎ and I come from the star called ꧁ఌ︎ꨄ︎༄༆𖦹☆꧂.”,
Jisung almost chokes. “What?” he laughs. “That's—how do you even—” He shakes his head, unsure how to even repeat the name that Minho supplied him with. The closest his 8-year-old self could mimic were the syllables Lee and Know, and apparently his 24-year-old self can't do much better. “What do I call you?”
“You can call me anything you want.”
“Even… baby?” Jisung asks, teasing, with a cheeky grin.
“No.” Minho sounds deadpan but his ears give him away with their telltale glow.
Jisung holds back a giggle; he pokes Minho's knee and steals a kiss away from the corner of his lips. “Tell me your story, baby.”
Minho huffs, but he grabs Jisung's hand and presses their palms together. Jisung notices that the extra fingers, one on each hand, that he remembers from his dreams, from his childhood, are back. Minho hooks one with Jisung's pinky, and he starts talking again
“My race—my kind, we're space travelers,” he begins. “Traversing solar systems and galaxies is our purpose. We assimilate ourselves into races that are alien to us and we learn about their culture, and we document and archive our unique experiences. In a way, uh—” he laughs and looks down at their joined fingers. “I guess it's kind of like what your favorites Bin & Chan do, but we have done it for centuries… lightyears. My mother liked to travel by herself when she was younger, and one of her earliest destinations was right here on Earth.” He looks up and meets Jisung's wide eyes before he whispers softly, “And this planet… is where she met my father.”
Jisung stares at him. That was a twist he hadn't been expecting. “Your… father.”
Minho only laughs. “Yeah.” He lowers his head. “Yes. I'm half Earthling.”
“So… wait. What, then? You were here because…?”
“Mhm. Back then, I ran away from my mother because I wanted to know who my father was. I was… I had just turned… well in the equivalent of Earth years, I had turned ten, but that's the first big age in our culture.” He touches his ears; touches the earrings that lined the shell of his ears. “Do you remember that round pin I wore here?”
Jisung blinks; and then he laughs and reaches up to touch his own ear. He had started wearing it a few days ago after he found it, on his outer conch piercing, but his hair had grown long enough that it hid part of his ears. It also made sense that Minho hadn't noticed before, especially as it was basically hidden in plain sight, just one among multiple piercings Jisung has.
Now it's Minho's turn to look shocked when his attention is specifically called to tiny onyx stud. “You kept it too.”
“Of course.”
Minho smiles. “That was my first one—we call them ꕥ★✵᯽♔︎. In your language, I think the closest word is… badge? Certificate?” I turned ten and I had passed the certification for Basic Star Navigation and I guess that boosted my confidence. I had figured out from looking into my mother's travel logs that she had me after her Earth posting had ended, so I came here, wanting to know more about this planet.” He chortles. “It's a long story—but I crashed here in the escape pod from my mother's ship. I guess… I wanted to see if I could find my father but… I met you instead.” He smiles pensively. “Like I mentioned before, children grow up fast where I come from. Starting from when we're really young, we train and acclimate ourselves for space travel so we don't really experience childhoods the way Earthlings do. It was doubly true for me because my mother chose to school and train me herself instead of sending me to The Academy—it was how her parents trained her, so it was what she knew. But I was her only child, and it got lonely a lot. Being with you was the first time I got to play games and just be a kid—it was the most fun I had even though we didn't really have a long time together. That time… that experience with you, it just stuck with me.”
“Me too,” Jisung whispers, understanding all too well what the other is saying.
Minho smiles. “Here's the thing, though. We're explorers, but we're not supposed to displace anything when we visit new stars and planets. We're supposed to assimilate, and then when it's time to leave, we're supposed to go without a trace. Our only purpose is to capture new experiences and document them. When it's time to leave, we aren't supposed to leave anything of ours, while the only thing we take from the people we encounter are their memories of us.”
“Taking memories?” Jisung parrots, wrinkling his nose; he's unsure as to what Minho means.
“Mhm.” Minho nods. “We have, uh, something that allows us to do that.”
“Like some Men in Black type of sh*t,” Jisung murmurs.
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” Jisung chuckles and shakes his head. “Go on.”
Minho looks into his eyes, and once he's seemingly determined that Jisung genuinely wants to hear more, he goes on.
“My mother, she messed up,” Minho relays. “She fell in love with an Earthling—and instead of leaving without a trace, and instead of taking nothing with her, she left with a kid. She had me. But she still had to do what she needed to do, so she erased my father's memories of her. Back then, I told you she was coming for me right?”
Jisung nods.
“When she did, when we were here, she also… Well, first she explained to me that he didn't know about me—that my father didn't even know about me because she made sure of it. And then she showed me who he was. She showed me that he was living a happy and peaceful life with a family of his own.”
Minho sounds very matter-of-fact while telling his story, but in that moment, Jisung feels his heart ache greatly for him. “Hyung…”
Minho smiles and pulls him closer; gently kisses Jisung's temple. “It's ok. I understand it now. I'm only telling you about all of these things because—” he shrugs. “It's all part of the story. And. Uh. You kind of know the family. My father's family.”
Jisung groans as the worst thought comes to him. “Minho if you tell me we're actually related—” His heart starts to sink to his stomach, but then Minho starts laughing.
“No!” Minho exhales shakily. “It's… it's the Yangs. Mr. Yang. He's my Dad. Jeonghoon, Jeongin, Jeongsu… they're my half brothers.”
Oh.
Oh boy. Jisung certainly hadn't expected that. Now it makes sense why Minho has such an affinity for them. He watches Minho, and he could tell that he's doing his best to look unbothered, but Jisung notices the little things; like the way Minho's bottom lip quivers, and the way his eyes look glazed over. It all adds to the heartache that Jisung is already feeling.
“It's really okay, Jisungie. I'm not super sad about it or anything.” Minho sighs wistfully. “The year after that, I came back here. My mother thought I just wanted to catch one last glimpse of my father again. His family. We were about to head to a planet that's located galaxies away from Earth so she let me go back because she felt she owed me as much. I had to promise that I wouldn't disrupt their life, and ultimately it was no problem because the real reason I came back was to fulfill my promise to you.”
“But I wasn't here,” Jisung whispers in realization.
“You weren't,” Minho reinforces. A flash of sadness passes over his expression, but it's gone almost as soon as it appears. “After that, I focused on my studies. I trained until I passed certification for Solo Exploration. And then I came back here and… you still weren't here.” He chuckles almost in a self-deprecating manner. “It's almost funny, the first time I came here for him, and I found you—and recently, when I came back to try and find you again, I found them instead. Because, yeah—I finally ended up getting to know my father… my brothers.” He looks up, eyes Jisung directly, and the smile on his face is bright and blinding. “And then one day you walked into the bakery. I immediately knew it was you. My Han Jisung.”
“You didn't say anything then,” Jisung points out.
“I wasn't sure that you remembered me.”
“How could I forget?” Jisung frowns. “I tried, you know. I pretended to forget because it was silly to keep believing that I had met a blue alien in my childhood, but—” he touches Minho's face again, as if to make sure of his existence yet again, “—you're real.”
”I'm real,” Minho echoes. “Jisung, hey, why—” His expression contorts into one of concern and Jisung doesn't understand why until he feels dampness on his own cheeks.
He's crying and he didn't even realize it. Minho sweeps away the tears with his knuckles and Jisung chokes back on laughter because he's once again reminded that Minho's extra fingers are back.
“You really do have six fingers to a hand,” he points out, half crying half laughing.
“I do.” Minho grins as he wiggles the extra finger. “And I'm blue. And I can speak and understand over ten thousand languages, half of which you have probably never even heard of—I've been to hundreds of stars and planets in my lifetime, but right now I'm here with you.” He lowers his voice into a barely audible whisper; Jisung had barely registered that Minho had been moving closer, and closer, and closer, and now their faces are barely a centimeter apart. “For you.”
Jisung's heart skips a beat and then he does what he supposes Minho had been expecting, wanting him to do—he surges forward and covers the rest of the distance between them.
Jisung kisses him.
It's not the first time they've done this. It is, however, the first time after everything has been laid out bare; no more secrets, just truth and honesty, mixed with raw emotions. The kiss this time is sweet, languid, and Jisung takes his time to really appreciate Minho and the way he feels, tastes.
Maybe it should be strange, maybe it should be different, weird, literally out of this world tasting someone extraterrestrial—but it's just Minho, and kissing Minho is perfect. It feels perfect, it feels right, and just as he suspected, Jisung never wants to stop.
Nothing much changes; at least nothing noticeable to outsiders. If anything, one could say that Minho and Jisung have become more inseparable but they were already a unit in the eyes of most of the villagers even before, so no one really makes a comment about it.
Almost every night, they would sneak out together and spend hours talking or kissing. Jisung still can't take it out of his head, how it really should feel strange, making out with an actual alien , but it doesn't. Minho just feels right; just feels like a good fit with him, physically and emotionally.
It should be perfect, really, except every night, Jisung can't help but feel like their time is actually fleeting. Like he's running out of time with Minho, but he never mentions it; he's afraid of bringing it up, but it remains in his thoughts, constant and loud when they aren't together.
When he's able to observe them, he takes note of how Minho is with the Yangs; takes note of how well he gets along with the Yang boys. Sometimes, the differences between them are obvious; Minho's calm countenance and strange humor aren't always a fit with the Yangs' rowdiness and simple-minded sensibilities, but there are times when he meshes with them seamlessly and it's during those moments that Jisung is sad that they would never know they're brothers.
Minho always acts unaffected; always acts happy around them, but his countenance only offers Jisung more melancholy. He's reminded that Minho is going to leave them too, just like him, when the time comes. It's also never something he brings up; never something he and Minho talk about.
At least until one day and Minho suddenly asks, “Are you still waiting for that unknown thing?”
Jisung is confused at first because he has completely forgotten about once agonizing over this. He's already figured it out after all, he has already realized that what he's been waiting for all along was Minho; that what he had been holding on to all this time was Lee Know's promise, and now he's gotten it.
He supposes, though, that he also forgot to tell Minho about this brand new enlightenment.
“No,” he answers truthfully. “Because it's not unknown anymore. I was waiting for you to come back and I didn't want to miss you coming back.”
He notices that he has no trouble being straightforward with Minho, even though with every other person he probably would have.
“Well technically you did,” Minho jokes. “The first time I came back, you were gone. And then again, recently, I came back and you were away at school.”
“But I'm here now aren't I?” Jisung nudges him gently; kisses Minho's shoulder affectionately.
“I'm gonna go soon,” Minho says quietly.
Déjà vu, Jisung thinks. Yet again. “How soon?” he asks, just as quietly.
“In a few days.”
Jisung frowns. “Are you going to take my memory like your Mom did with Yang-samchon?”
Minho doesn't answer immediately. “It's protocol,” he whispers eventually.
Jisung makes frustrated noises.
“But I don't want to,” Minho admits.
They're both quiet for a while.
“Do you still want to see the world?” Minho eventually asks.
“Huh?”
“Because I can show you more than the world,” Minho offers, surprising Jisung who snaps at attention, slack jawed as he eyes the other. “But…” Minho continues, and Jisung feels his heart dive down to his stomach, because of course there's a but.
“But?”
Minho chuckles. “I guess there isn't actually any but,” he settles with, smiling bright and wide. “If you want to come with me to explore anything and everything… then please come with me.”
At that moment, fireworks explode in Jisung's chest, and tears once again well up in his eyes.
He realizes now that this is what he has been hoping for—an invitation from the one person that makes him feel like he belongs; the one person that makes him feel wanted, no conditions, qualifications, caveats.
“I want to,” he answers, practically tackling Minho on the ground, unable to contain his happiness. “I really, really want to.”
“There are a lot of humanoid planets,” Minho explains. “Like our kind, on our star. But there are also some planets whose main inhabitants are vastly different from you or me. I don't like going to those planets much.” He shrugs. “It's not very fun assimilating with them – either I get bored quickly or they have ways that are too troublesome to adapt.”
Jisung sighs. “Still. You have the ability to physically shift… but I— I simply don't.”
Minho laughs, reaches up to flick Jisung's chin. “It's alright, we have holographic technology that's light years beyond Earth's. You only need to appear similar. And we can always just stick to humanoid planets.”
Jisung hums. Minho has been telling him a lot about the different stars and planets; constellations and galaxies that are waiting for them, and he's both nervous and excited. Now that they've determined that Minho is taking him along when he goes, it's mostly all they've been talking about. Quite a leap, considering the way Jisung used to tiptoe around the topic of Minho's travels before.
Right now, they're in Jisung's special clearing again— their special place, as Jisung has dubbed it in his head. They're staring at the night sky together, Jisung sitting upright, legs criss crossed while Minho is resting his head on Jisung's lap.
“Hyung… What do we tell people when we leave?” Jisung has been wondering about this for a while. There's nothing more he wants than to run away with Minho, but…
But.
If he and Minho had reconnected earlier; if Minho had re-entered his life when he was a teenager and asked him to run away together, Jisung would have gone in a heartbeat, with no thought and consideration as to what he would be leaving behind. As far as he was concerned, he probably wouldn't have been leaving anything—or anyone—behind.
But he would have been a child, and he wouldn't have really known better than he does now. Because now he's older, wiser, and well aware that he does have people—he has his grandparents, who have been nothing but sweet, kind and supportive. He hadn't always understood them, but now he can tell that they have always wanted nothing for him, except for whatever makes him happy.
He has his older brother; as estranged as they are, he knows if he phoned and he asked him to, he wouldn't hesitate to come running. He even has his father, even though he sees him once a year at best, if at all. They have many unresolved issues, none of which can be fixed overnight, but Jisung is finally at an age where he could understand that the decisions his father made for him in his youth aren't black and white. They have a lot of work to do to mend their relationship, and Jisung doesn't think he wants to miss out on that opportunity.
His friendship with Jeongin, and even the other Yang boys, has grown stronger in the last couple of months, and as much as Minho might feel enough some days, Jisung is aware he has more to lose now—and as scary as that should be, it actually also feels nice.
As exciting as the idea of traveling with Minho is, as much as he wants it more than anything else, it's also scary; he's unsure if he's ready to lose everything— everyone— that he has only really started to appreciate recently.
“You already know, we're supposed to erase all traces of ourselves after we go,” Minho admits. “I'm supposed to erase all traces of myself here.”
“Okay… how exactly do you do that?” Jisung knows Minho has mentioned this before, but he's never really explained the process to it.
“We–well, I have to do this thing—” Minho pauses like he's trying to figure out how to put into words what he needs to explain. “We do it through touch, and I don't really know how it works, it's an ability that's born to my kind. We only have to do it with people whose lives we have affected by being around—the people we only encountered in passing, people who only knew us in their periphery, we kinda just slip through the cracks of their memories after enough time passes.”
“I kind of want you to show me but I also obviously don't want to be your test subject.” Jisung chuckles. “I never want to forget you.”
“You'll get to see the process one day.” Minho smiles softly. “I was supposed to make you forget me, you know? Back then.”
Jisung blinks, taken aback. “Why didn't you?”
Minho shrugs. “Dunno. Simply didn't want you to forget me, I guess.”
Jisung chuckles; unable to stop himself, he leans down to give Minho's nose a quick peck.
“But maybe…” Minho wrinkles his nose, but then he smiles up at Jisung. “I've been thinking that maybe it's not really necessary.”
Jisung's breath hitches. He wonders if Minho can read his mind; if he could tell what has been plaguing his thoughts and giving him doubts. “What happened to ‘it's protocol’?”
Minho shrugs; he laughs and turns to his side and hugs Jisung's midsection. “It isn't protocol to ask someone to run away with me either.”
He blows a raspberry against Jisung's stomach, and it makes the latter giggle.
“Is it really okay that you did that?” Jisung asks, fingers gently threading through Minho's hair. There's giddiness rising in his chest—would he really not have to give up anything?
Minho shrugs. “As long as you want to, it'll be okay.” He looks up, smiling. “But like I was saying—I figured, I have you now. I have a reason to be remembered.”
The words warm Jisung up, because yes, Minho does have him, and in turn, he has Minho. He hums.
“Because with you,” Minho continues, “why does everyone else need to forget about me? We don't need, no—we don't want anyone to forget about you, after all.”
Jisung closes his eyes. He's really about to have his cake and eat it too. That makes him nervous; life isn't always so kind, but when he opens his eyes and he finds Minho smiling at him, he immediately feels comfortable.
“You're saying that if we don't take anyone's memories, that means we can visit anytime we want, right?” Jisung confirms. “You can remain connected to your Dad, your brothers. And I would love it if we could visit my family every so often, as well.”
Minho chuckles. “That sounds really nice.”
Jisung smiles down at him. “My brother would like you, I think. My Dad would be happy if I'm happy because, well, he thinks he owes me happiness.” He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant; as contentious as his relationship with his father has been, as an adult, Jisung would like to think that he himself has mellowest a lot—their relationship still isn't perfect, but he's learned that it's pointless to let it affect him too much.
“We can visit them in Malaysia whenever you want,” Minho murmurs, looking at him like he's able to read through Jisung's inner thoughts. “You can show me around.”
Jisung laughs. “Don't really know my way around there,” he admits. “I've visited a few times over the years but I tend to stay in whenever I'm there.” He laughs. “I guess I can show you around my Dad's neighborhood.”
“Well, then, we can explore together,” Minho says. “That's the entire point, right? Exploring together.”
Jisung nods, feeling content and happy. “And I can write,” he whispers.
“Hmm?”
“I can experience the world, and beyond—and maybe I can finally find something to write about,” he elaborates.
Minho snorts. “What I'm hearing is you said yes to my invitation so you can have novel material,” he huffs.
“Oh absolutely.” Jisung rolls his eyes and pinches Minho's cheek. “What other reason would I have?”
“Me,” Minho answers curtly. “Obviously.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jisung laughs. “I guess you're a decent perk.”
Minho groans; puts on a petulant expression that makes Jisung laugh. He wipes off the pout the only way he knows how, and he plants a swift kiss on Minho's lips.
The corners of the alien's mouth twitch, a telltale sign that he's holding back a smile and Jisung grins triumphantly.
“Hyung,” he murmurs softly, stealing one more quick kiss before continuing, this time with a much more sincere tone. “I think it's still right to say our goodbyes to people here.”
Minho hums in agreement. “Right. Proper goodbyes and all. We should.”
They make a plan that involves them practically going door to door. The idea involves visiting all the families that Minho had offered his services to during his time – it's something that Minho was supposed to do anyway if he were to go and erase their collective memories of him, but now with Jisung it's less a goodbye forever, and more a see you later.
Mrs. Ahn, who they had helped the most as a unit, who always fed them a feast every time they were over helping out with chores and errands, tries to get them to stay.
“You kids are young,” she tells them as if that's supposed to be reason enough for them to stay put and not the complete opposite. “You will have enough time to see the world when you're older. Preferably when I'm not on this earth anymore.”
It sounds like a joke, but Mrs. Ahn says it with such sincerity and solemnity that when Minho and Jisung look at each other, they both have to bite the insides of their cheeks so neither of them laugh out loud.
“We'll come and visit as much as we can, Mrs. Ahn,” Jisung promises. “On holidays, especially! Just like I did when I was in university.”
Jisung doesn't really know if it's a promise that they can keep; he has no idea how space travel works, after all. His words do little to calm Mrs. Ahn down anyway. It was clear that she was more concerned about losing Minho, and not so much Jisung, even though he's the one she has known since he was a kid.
Jisung wonders if he should feel hurt, but then Minho glances at him and exchanges exasperated looks with him. Jisung has to hold back giggles and he finds he doesn't really care what Mrs. Ahn thinks of him.
“You know, you're the only one I've seen her adore that much,” Jisung whispers to Minho after they leave her house. “She doesn't even dote on her own son half as much.”
“Wouldn't you say I'm just that plain loveable?” Minho retorts, complete with an attempt at a wink that miserably fails, which only makes Jisung laugh harder.
“You're alright,” he comments playfully. “Above average enough that I'm willing to run away with you.”
The Yangs aren't all that surprised about Minho leaving soon—probably because he has always been transparent with them about only passing through—but they do immediately express enthusiasm that Minho has found a travel companion in Jisung.
“You better come and visit a lot though,” Mrs. Yang tells them, her eyes watery despite the wide grin she's sporting. She gives Jisung a hug, and one as well to Minho, twice as tight. “You have to make sure that Jisungie's grandparents don't go too long without seeing him.”
“What she's saying is that you should make sure that she doesn't go too long without seeing you,” Jeongin interjects, laughing.
While Mrs. Yang takes Minho aside to give him the family's secret recipe to their favorite red bean buns (Jisung has no idea how they will replicate that; how they will find ingredients in outer space but Minho knows best on this front he accedes), Jisung ends up hanging out with the three Yang brothers in the living room, playing video games.
“You know, hyung, I remember when we were kids and you kept to yourself a lot,” Jeongin comments to Jisung while Jeonghoon and Jeongsu are in the middle of Round One of some fighting game.
“Yeah?” Jisung pulls away his attention from the game on the screen and places it on Jeongin who is on the couch next to him. “That was just because no one wanted to play with me,” he says, shrugging casually.
Jeongin's face scrunches a little. “No offense, hyung, but that absolutely wasn't it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you were always talking about your beloved alien best friend,” Jeongin begins to explain, “and you always made it sound like he was better than the rest of us. It was kinda annoying, but I guess in high school I realized you weren't that bad. Just a little too enthusiastic with your X-Files or whatever.”
Jisung blinks, genuinely in shock at hearing Jeongin's explanation of things. “Wait, really?”
“We were all kids, if you wanted to join in on games, you could've!” Jeongin points out. “But you never did.”
Jisung exhales softly; it now dawns on him that he took himself out of socialization just as much, if not more, as he was ostracized by his peers.
“This summer, though—you and Minho-hyung…” Jeongin smiles. “Even though the two of you are often in your own world, you've been a lot more open! It's the first time that I feel like I've really gotten to know you, hyung—and it kinda has been really nice. I was even talking to Heonie about it, and she told me that she was surprised at how funny you actually are.”
Jisung softens and feels his insides melt at Jeongin's rare show of sweetness. After that first movie night, he and Minho have spent a lot of time hanging out with Jeongin and Jiheon, at times joined as well by Jeongin's brothers. He hadn't really thought much about those times, just enjoying himself, but looking back he really has gotten closer with all of them, getting to know them more than he ever has, despite all of them technically growing up together in their small town.
“Yang Jeongin!” he cries out, laughing as he makes grabby hands at the younger man. “Give me a smooch!” he jokes, being outlandish as a way to hide how pleased and touched he genuinely feels.
“Ew!” Jeongin groans, and in turn makes a show of pushing Jisung away. “Gross! Stop—it's our turn on the game!” he yells, laughing and hitting Jisung with a throw pillow.
Next on their list are Jisung's grandparents; he assures Minho that they have nothing to worry about, and he's quickly proven right by their reaction.
If anything, his grandmother seems relieved that Jisung has found something to be excited about. His grandfather is mostly silent, but that's typical of him; Jisung is more than aware—if he doesn't approve of something, he's always sure to make it known.
Instead, he nods gruffly, and tells Minho, “Your help in the farm will be missed.”
The simple comment makes Jisung beam with pride; he knows that his grandfather's words are that of approval.
“Does your father know about your immediate plans?” his grandmother asks. “Does your brother?”
“Not yet,” Jisung admits. “But I'm planning on calling them tonight, actually. And we're thinking of going to visit them some time soon when they can accommodate us.”
He and Minho have talked about this; they'll visit a different planet first, maybe a moon—or a star, anywhere in the galaxy that Jisung wants to see just so he can prove to himself, without a doubt, that there's life out there. And then they'll try to come back to Earth as soon as they can so Minho can properly meet the rest of Jisung's family.
“That's good,” his grandmother approves. “And when you go—tell your brother and your father that they should also find time to visit us here. It's been too long.”
“Yes, halmeoni,” Jisung agrees, laughing even as he feels tears well up in his eyes. She reaches for him; wraps his arms around him, and Jisung knows, as eager as he is to go out into the world—even beyond—his grandparents are always going to make Seukje-ri feel like a certain kind of home.
Ultimately, the hardest part is calling his family in Malaysia. It's strange, because neither his brother nor his father have played big parts in his life for years, but he supposes that's what makes it difficult; despite everything, they're family.
And it's hard, because it's a call that's supposed to serve as a goodbye—but it isn't as if Jisung is going to be able to tell him that he's off to spend a few months, maybe even years, in outer space. Not to mention, unlike the villagers of Seukje-ri, they haven't been witness to the connection he has formed with Minho; essentially, the phone call comes down to him telling them about finding someone special with whom he wants to see the world and beyond; someone he wants to experience life with.
He'd also love to tell his brother that it's the tiny blue alien he couldn't shut up about when they were children—but he knows better now; knows that he can't make a believer of someone who doesn't want to believe. He supposes that's fine; either way he's more focused on having his brother have a positive image of Minho.
When he makes the calls in his room, Minho stays with him, but Jisung asks him to keep quiet; to let him manage the calls but he absolutely appreciates the silent support Minho provides without having to be asked.
He's glad when it's his brother who answers the line first. Growing up, they started out really close despite the big gap in their age; even after they started living in different countries, for a while, his big brother was the closest to being Jisung's idol. Somewhere in his teens, though, they started growing apart, and now when Jisung tries to remember when the last time was that they talked, he could barely recall. It's definitely been months, at least.
“Hey, hyung,” he greets over the line.
“Hey little brother,” his brother greets, surprise evident in his tone. “Something wrong?”
Jisung chuckles; it's pretty telling of where their relationship stands, the way his brother reacted to the call. “No, no,” he assures. “It's–”
“Yeah? What's up?”
“I met someone,” Jisung finally says; beside him Minho offers a smile, eyes sparkling, ears glowing and he feels emboldened.
“Oh! Jisungie!” When his brother lets out a chuckle, a hint of relief is easily detectable. “Are you calling to say you're getting married?” His brother also sounds surprised, but also genuinely enthusiastic and it makes Jisung somewhat relax.
“Hyung, no. No! What?!” His brother's laughter echoes from the other end of the line and Jisung giggles and clicks his tongue. “I'm calling because we… we've decided to go traveling together, so. Yeah. We'll probably be off the grid or whatever, and it'd be hard to contact me so… that's—that's why I called.”
His brother chuckles. “Is that all, really, Jisungie? What's their name, then?”
“Minho,” Jisung supplies, and beside him, at his mention, Minho squeezes his hand. “Lee Minho.”
“Plan a stop here in KL,” his brother tells him. “Introduce him to us.”
Jisung smiles to himself. “Yeah,” he answers. “Definitely, we'll pencil in you and Appa.” He chuckles; tries to keep the atmosphere light, and his confidence up. “Can you put Appa on the line, now?”
“Okay, yeah, 'sec.”
“Jisung-ah?” His father comes on the line several seconds later, and Jisung immediately has his guard up again.
“Hey, Appa,” Jisung greets softly. “How are you?”
“I'm fine, son. How are you? Your brother tells me that you have news.”
Jisung takes a deep breath; he essentially repeats to his father everything he had just told his brother, and his old man just listens until he finishes with his news.
“What did you say his name is? Lee Minho?”
Jisung hums. “Yeah.”
“I hope you can bring him to meet us soon.”
“Well. Halmeoni says you and hyung should come and visit even sooner,” he shoots back, wincing when he realizes that he sounds a bit petulant. “Sorry. I mean—she told me I should tell you that. I'm not trying to be cheeky or anything.”
His father chuckles. “It's okay. Nothing to apologize for. It has been a while, huh?” There's a pause that follows, a silence that almost makes Jisung wonder if the line has gone dead. And then his father speaks again, “How was the strawberry harvest this year?”
“Good,” Jisung answers. “Pretty good from what I hear. Harabeoji has mentioned having a lot of export contracts this year, and I guess the strawberries have been selling really well?”
“That's good. Great,” his dad says, and then, after another brief pause, “Your mother and I—we both wanted to tour the world, did you know?”
“Yeah—” Jisung's breath hitches; it's very rare for his father to bring up his mother first. “Yeah, actually. I've been told. I'm sorry, Appa.”
His father chuckles again. “What are you apologizing for? We saw a few places. We might not have toured the world but we saw most of the country—did you know that?”
“No,” Jisung admits, before he recalls a vague memory. “Actually, I think I know you went on a trip to Jeju once. Halmeoni showed me pictures. She said you shared them with her.”
His father laughs, louder and heartier this time. “Jisungie, we all went to Jeju Island. We had that trip when you were a baby—it was the summer right before you turned two, and we all had great fun as a family.”
“Oh.”
“I took this one photo of you and your mom at the beach—we had it on display at our old house. And then you took it, and slept with the print under your pillow for at least a year after… you know.”
“After she passed,” Jisung whispers softly in confirmation. He remembers that photograph sharply because he had recently found it tucked away into his childhood tin box, old, wrinkled and fading. He hadn't realized that it had been taken at Jeju.
“I'm glad you're going to be traveling with someone who is important to you,” his father commends him. “I hope you can have all the adventures me and your Umma never experienced. You better tell us stories, okay? It would be nice to hear—to read your stories, Jisungie.”
Jisung smiles brightly; he even nods even though his father obviously can't see. He feels Minho's hand on his face, and he realizes it's because he's wiping Jisung's slowly falling tears away.
“I will, Appa. We'll send postcards.” He doesn't know how he's going to do that from other planets, but he'll make do. He and Minho will figure it out. “I miss you, Appa,” he says finally.
“You too, son.”
It was late at night and there was soft tapping on the window. At a young age, Jisung was a light sleeper and the sound immediately had him stirring.
On the futon next to his, however, his brother only rustled the sheets but stayed deep asleep. Jisung forced himself up, and softly padded towards the window. When he pushed it open, Lee Know was there, looking at him with shining eyes.
“Lee Know?” Jisung was confused, and he rubbed both of his eyes with tiny closed fists to make sure he was awake and not dreaming. “Are you already back?”
Lee Know laughed. “I haven't left yet. I wanted to say goodbye to you.”
“How did you find me?”
Lee Know didn't really answer; he just held out both of his hands for Jisung to take, which the latter did. He leaned over the window until he was halfway out.
“The moon is big tonight,” Lee Know commented, and that diverted Jisung's attention to the night sky and the bright orb that illuminated it. “The stars, too,” Minho added.
“Can we make wishes on them?” Jisung asked in a hushed tone.
Lee Know shrugged. “One day I'll take you to see them up close.”
Jisung gasped softly. “That's possible?”
Lee Know laughed; squeezed Jisung's hands before letting them go. “You'll find out one day, Han Jisung.”
They leave in the middle of the night, without much fanfare. All their goodbyes are over and done with—at least the way they see it.
The villagers think they're leaving early in the morning and taking the first bus; the first train out—it's not like they can tell people that they have to leave while it's dark; that they aren't taking a bus or a train, but a spaceship.
A real life spaceship that Minho has hidden in the thick of the woods.
Jisung doesn't know what he was expecting with regards to Minho's ship; when Minho takes him to it and turns off the cloaking device that hides it from plain sight, it's admittedly a little disappointing. It's barely the size of his grandfather's truck, and apart from the fact that it looks incredibly out of place in the greenery of the woods, the vehicle doesn't look especially out of this world.
But then Minho takes him inside and Jisung can't help the gasp that escapes him at the sight of its interior.
“You're really—you—you're really not from this world,” he trips over his words, absolutely in awe at how much bigger and more spacious it is than it looks from the outside.
Minho laughs. “The blue skin didn't give it away?” he jests. He had dropped the physical alterations as soon as they had entered the woody hillside of the village; he had offered to keep looking human but Jisung assured him that it didn't matter to him. He liked the ways in which they were different, especially since all the parts that matter fit just right.
“It's like f*cking TARDIS in here,” he mutters as he looks around the ship.
“Who?” Minho asks, and Jisung laughs and shakes his head.
“Exactly,” he comments. “Doctor Who.”
Minho looks at him with confusion.
“Don't worry. I'll catch you up on all the nerdy pop culture sensations from Earth,” he assures Minho, smiling before he plants a smooch on his cheek. “We have all the time while we're in space. My life is truly a sci-fi novel now,” he comments jokingly.
When he was eight, he befriended a small, blue alien lost in the wild—lost on Earth, anyway. When he was twelve, he was almost convinced that he had made it all up. And now he's 24, very much an adult—and he's glad that at his core, he had never stopped believing.
“So where are we off to first?” Minho asks as he takes the control seat in the center of the ship.
“Um.” Jisung, both nervous and excited, takes the chair next to him and makes sure to strap himself tightly. He looks out at the dark view that's facing them and he laughs. “Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning!” he chirps happily.
Expectedly, it doesn't really garner any kind of excited reaction from Minho, who only gives him a strange look. “That's another reference to something isn't it?” he asks with amusem*nt.
“Absolutely.” Jisung laughs. “Should've made you watch more movies and read more books…”
“Well, like you said, we have time.” Minho smiles. “There are parts of the galaxy better experienced and not hyper jumped through.”
Jisung spins in his seat; excitement is certain taking over everything else now and it helps that Minho keeps looking at him with such obvious affection that he can't help but provide more amusem*nt. “Okay. Let's go, then!”
“Right.” Minho laughs. “Second star to the left—”
“The right!” Jisung interjects. “Or left. I don't really care. Surprise me.”
The viewing window darkens and instead of the outside view, a galaxy of stars are suddenly shown on the screen. A map, Jisung realizes, as Minho zooms in on it. The stars twinkle, and Jisung only laughs more when everything else dims and only the second star to the right of the screen is left.
“And straight on 'til morning,” he echoes giddily.
🌌
An unintentional collision, a coincidental stardust
You came here as a piece of a star
— YOUNHA, Stardust
![This Star - bitsori - Stray Kids (Band) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)](data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABCAQAAAC1HAwCAAAAC0lEQVR42mP8/h8AAvMB+NzmkbcAAAAASUVORK5CYII=)
