Archive of Our Own

"I'm not leaving!"

Nightfall in this provincial mountain slope was dark enough to make anyone believe shadows were made here. It wasn’t a place people should be in this late into the night as not even the smallest sliver of moonlight made it past the tall, aged trees whose thick branches desperately reached out to each other to form a roof over anything that traversed the uneven path beneath it. 

The gunshots have faded since Private Kong had been shot. The silence was almost as dead as the night and the soldiers it took with it. But in one narrow path downhill a steep mountainside, the sound of heavy steps were being swallowed by the damp soil beneath the feet of two men on the run for their lives.

It seems the rebels must have thought they captured the last of the soldiers that merely followed directives from the government to trespass the land that rebels considered independent of South Korean governance. A moment of mercy was granted to the last two surviving men from the captured and killed on-ground unity as they searched for a place to catch their breath.

Unbeknownst to the custodians of this deceivingly uninhabited territory, Private Kim Mingyu had put every fibre in his body to use, to keep from losing control down a slippery path, making his way deep into the pitch black jungle with the full weight of his wounded corporal on his back.

He stifled groans and swallowed almost every breath that tempted to make a sound just to keep himself from being discovered. Though the shooting had ceased, Mingyu knew it was only a matter of time until the mountainside rebels learned that two men from their unit were still missing. It was even more terrifying to think that these were the type of rebels who wouldn’t rest until all bodies were counted, to ensure no one would return to the government with new information.

Private Kim acted swiftly, moving through rows of trees and boulders in search of a seemingly safe spot to stop for a moment so he could mend the wounds of his leader. Once he could stop the bleeding, they’d have a much better chance at the downhill hike towards a better chance at escaping alive. All Mingyu knew was that there was a town on the neighboring island. He just hoped he was heading in the right direction.

A thick elder tree caught his attention when he almost fell over one of it’s elevated roots that had tripped him from the shin down. It’s wide bark and gargantuan roots revealed its age as they rose from the soil, almost ready to uproot itself. It was almost as if this tree knew this area was no good and not worth calling a home. This fight with the rebels had gone on for at least two decades. Who’s to know how many bodies are buried beside all these roots, fertilizing the jungle to keep it as healthy as it is?

Mingyu noticed a large crevice that was formed by two conjoining roots. It looked like it was perfectly carved for someone of Corporal Lee Myung Do’s size. Mingyu didn’t hesitate any further, placing down his commanding officer’s wounded body to lay comfortably in the space. The morbid part of Mingyu’s mind was tempted to entertain the idea that this space was probably more a coffin than a resting spot. But Mingyu was stubborn and quickly shook the thought off. He was not about to witness another death.

It hadn’t yet sunken in for the young private that all his comrades were killed in a matter of minutes in the middle of the night. It was of no help to him either that he was one of the three that were on guard, sleepless, and exhausted. 

At this point, Mingyu had been running for hours in a never ending wood while he’d been awake for almost 36, on high alert. His insides were trembling with exhaustion and he could barely open a velcro pocket steadily, but his eyelids refused to shut for even a second.

Adrenaline coursed through him so rapidly that he barely felt the bleeding gashes on his arms, legs, and the wound of a bullet that grazed against his obliques, all because he didn’t have time to grab his kevlar vest or guns before running into the woods.

Mingyu’s left brow had bled earlier when the pole of the tent back at the base camp collapsed on him during the ambush, splitting it open. The blood had dried past his eyelids and down his cheek in a reddish brown color. It would probably stain his skin lightly even if he successfully washes the layer off.

But of all the things to worry about, nothing occupied Mingyu's mind at full capacity more than his hurt corporal. Lee Myung Do had been gasping for a good hour on Mingyu’s back, losing more blood than the young private realized, but enough to alarm him.

This is the perfect window to tend to his wounds , Mingyu thought as he positioned his leader comfortably. There should be at least five to ten more minutes to at least stop the bleeding before making another stop downhill to catch their breath again. It wasn’t much time, but Mingyu was determined to make the most of it. 

The rebels moved swiftly despite the zero visibility in the woods because they were familiar with the area that they'd been hiding in for years. And even though Mingyu knew he had at least five minutes, it was in his best interest to finish in four or less.

He frantically searched his pockets for whatever was in them. Since they were ambushed, he had no time to select what he’d be taking from the base camp. He had no idea what he pulled, so he began to spill the contents out. He worried about a trail but decided to just leave everything there or form a trail in the opposite direction they’d both be running.

All he needed was something--anything that he could use to stop his corporal from bleeding to damn death.

"Kim," Corporal Lee's strained voice escaped him in almost no decibels, not catching even a morsel of Mingyu's focused attention as he searched for a canister of liquor, a bandage, a piece of cloth, a belt—anything that could help.

"Kim," it was louder, but still not enough for Mingyu to stop. Realizing there was nothing, Mingyu pulled his shirt off and ripped it in half to make it longer as he got right in there to start wrapping the shoulder of his hyung. With the remainder of his strength, Corporal Lee snatched Mingyu's wrist in a blood-stopping grasp, halting the young private's actions, "I don't have much time."

"Exactly, sir," Mingyu agreed, holding the makeshift bandage in place, "I’ll make this qui--”

"Listen. To. Me," for a moment, Mingyu’s heart swelled to hear the familiar, uncompromising tone of his leader, hoping like hell this was a sign that he was regaining strength while completely ignoring every possibility that this might be the last time he’ll ever hear it.

"You have time to run," he began, softer, "But I don't. I need you to get out of this alive."

"Sir—"

"Do it. Our time ends here, and you still have a great chance to hold onto—," he coughed, "—yours. Do your comrades and I one final service of surviving."

"If you could wait here, I can bury you in leaves to go find help and retur—"

"You won't have a chance to bury me at all."

Mingyu's vision began to blur as tears pooled in his eyes, stinging. His lip then began to quiver beyond his control, but he had to keep himself from falling apart. He was their only hope.

"Someone needs to tell our families what happened. Someone needs to—" with this cough, blood splattered onto his chest, "—carry us back home by surviving."

"I'm not leaving."

Mingyu was clear about the decision he made, but his corporal wouldn't have it, "This is an—"

"Sir, with all due resp—"

"KIM. THIS IS AN ORDER."

It was like Mingyu’s voice was stolen from him. He has never once disobeyed an order and he wasn’t about to start now. Not when it’s coming from a dying man’s lips. 

Mingyu watched Corporal Lee’s pained movements as he reached up to his chest to rip out his own name tag, “See to it my wife gets this,” and he reached for his neck to yank out his silver tag, “Make sure this gets to my wife after she delivers our son.”

“When is she giving birth?” Mingyu tried to say steadily.

A labored breath escaped the corporal. It didn’t sound good, “Tomorrow.”

"Sir—" Mingyu was at a loss for words as his tears began to spill from his eyes.

"Live your life as we would have," his voice was almost inaudible, "You are not without purpose anymore, Kim. You’ve become a man since you joined us. Now, please, live well and full.”

The tighter Mingyu gripped his corporal's shirt, the more limp his hyung’s body had gone until it was finally cold and stiff, leaving nothing but a blue lipped corpse lying before the scarred recruit.

For a moment, Mingyu's posture gave in as he sobbed over the body of a man who was just about to become a father but had always been one to him. And in this moment as time finally slowed, images of his comrades dying began to project themselves onto the back of his eyelids.

So much carnage, so much loss...and for what?

Of all the people who survived this, it had to be Mingyu, the only one who joined the Marine Corps just because he no longer had anywhere to go. He joined on a whim, to find his purpose, or to at least feel useful after having spent most of his youth simply trying to survive.

Suddenly, a gunshot—far into the distance—but still, unmistakably, a gunshot—an all too familiar one, echoed through the forest, reginiting Mingyu’s alertness.

The sound rudely yanked Mingyu from his thoughts and back to the present moment. He had one last order left to fulfill. And with that, he gathered fallen leaves to cover his corporal’s body as much as he could, hoping the camouflage would at least let him sink into the earth over time and spare him from being massacred by the rebels.

Once he felt he did all that he could, he started to run, swiftly threading through the woods though his vision was blurred with tears, sure of where he needed to be, but unsure if he was moving in the right direction.

.

It has been two years since you’ve been home, the longest time you’ve ever been away. You couldn’t wait to see your parents and all the familiar elements of your childhood landscape on the way to your humble bungalow on a hill.

To finally be back in the familiar mainland you so frequently escaped to in your teenage years was so refreshing from the city life you’d grown accustomed to. Seoul was amazing, exciting even, but you missed home so much, and everything else that surrounded it.

"I see someone's finally decided to return home!" you turned to see Mr. Han's familiar blue boat was being loaded up with empty crates just as he’d finished delivering the fish supply of vendors for the day. Though he uses it solely for fishing, he has never thought twice about letting you climb on board whenever you wanted to get to the mainland from where you lived.

"Mr. Han!" with all your luggage, you waddled over to his boat, excited to see a familiar face, "Can I hitch a ride?"

"Have you been gone that long? Did you forget who snuck behind my crates every Saturday night just to mingle with the other kids at the market? Of course you can hitch a ride, and there’s no need to ever ask. Come on over.”

You laughed, recalling exactly what those nights were like as you hauled your things over to the front of the boat. It was good to be home, to be around familiar faces that were as excited to see you as you were to see them. It was a very welcome change from the pace of life you’d grown accustomed to in Seoul while attending university.

"So, did you finally become a nurse? Like you always wanted?"

Well, someone was bound to bring it up eventually...

In your latest two years of university, too much had changed too quickly, and that was the main reason you couldn't bring yourself to come home. Of course, you told your parents you were too busy to come home, but that was simply so they wouldn’t worry. You were not prepared to disappoint them even if what had happened wasn’t your fault. 

A disruptive admissions scandal turned your university upside down, causing several of its patrons to pull out from renewing their support for the school. Apart from the sports budget getting cut in half and halting the construction of the new library and social sciences building, many financial aid scholarships took a blow as well, yours included. 

And though you were lucky enough not to have your scholarship completely taken away because of your good standing, you only took a 50% cut alongside other scholars on the Dean’s List. 

However, even with the tuition cut in half, the cost was still far more than what you and your family could afford. You felt you had no other choice.

Keeping it a secret from your family, you filed for a leave of absence and took on a part-time job as a receptionist for a hospital. On your off-duty schedule, you volunteered as a candy striper for more practical experience and took on a job as a department store clerk to fatten your savings. The plan was to save up to go back to school and finish your degree...without your parents ever finding out.

Unfortunately, you were on your way home because it had become too overwhelming. This time, you want to come clean and maybe get some rest. There was no age limit to getting an education anyway and you always had next year to try again.

It was a simple plan, until you got home to find a 6-foot-2 man sleeping in your bedroom.

The living room was quiet and your parents were on their knees, apologetic about having lent your room to a complete stranger. You just sat there, confused, because though you’ve all been discussing this for a good twenty minutes, they still haven’t answered your question of why the man was sleeping on your bedding despite it being almost half his size.

You rubbed your temples, “I’m not pressed about the room use, eomma. I’m worried about him being a complete stranger. Do you guys understand the danger of housing a soldier you don’t know when we live on the neighboring island of the rebel militia? He could be a fugitive or have committed cowardice. Just because his pants have a familiar pattern, it doesn’t make him of the same affiliation as appa.”

“He’s wearing two tags, so I’m not sure if he’s Private Kim Mingyu or Corporal Lee Myung Do,” you mother said.

“Did you try asking him?”

“He hasn’t spoken since he got here,” your father explained, “I’m worried whatever he experienced is still fresh. Trauma can do that to you, you know. It’s a lot like the time I enlisted. I thought I was only going to serve in a camp until they sent me back here for those rebel missions before it got bad enough to become an on-going operation. They learned I knew the area well, but I was lucky to only ever man the boats and not have to go in where all the action was. He looks like he was at the heart of it.”

You remembered that story well, “He’s still a stranger, appa.”

Your father repeated it to you a million times. And if it was true that the man in your room had gone through the same ordeal, you decided it would be best to let him stay here until he recovered, provided none of the neighbours figured out he’s a soldier.

The next morning, you got up earlier than usual to attend to the soldier. Your parents, who were in their senior years, shouldn’t be doing this much work anymore. How in the world did they manage to mend his wounds when he was almost twice their size?

You prepared a large batch of kelp soup, rice, and kimchi on a tray for him. You would have prepared more, like meat, but you still had to go to the market today. Balancing the tray carefully, you managed to knock on the wooden frame of your bedroom door. You pressed your ear against the thin material, hoping to hear if he’d woken up yet.

“Are you decent?” you called, “May I come in?”

But instead of answering, you stepped back as soon as you heard the shuffle. He slid the door open in nothing but his uniform pants and the bandages your mother dressed his wounds in the night before. On the side, one of your dad’s larger shirts was discarded next to your table.

He was a large man, definitely over six feet tall, strong arms, a toned chest, and a stomach that was no less than what you’d expect someone from the Marine Corps to have. 

His skin was tanned, almost golden, but littered with bruises that looked to be a few days old. And his eyes? God, his eyes. They were beautiful in the most painful way. They almost clearly told you he’d seen too much. It was tempting to stare at them, but you didn’t want to make him self-conscious.

He stepped aside and let you in to put the tray on the small table where the household first aid kit was. You realized he was in the middle of trying to change his bandages, “I’ll get you more bandages. Ones that you can wrap around your torso so it stays on longer. I can tend to your wounds if you’ll let me. I’ve done this before.”

Embracing the base of his ribs, he winced as he sat down before the food, nodding in thanks.

“Eomma, how did you find him?” you asked your mother as you dug through the storage for fabric bandages, reminding yourself you need to buy new ones and update the first aid kit when you get to town.

Your mother was preparing tea for the soldier and turned on the stove to start boiling some ginger, “It was about 2am,” she recalled, “Your father and I were asleep when we heard a crash on the front gate. He checked it and this poor man had collapsed against it. We could barely make out his face because his brow and hairline had bled so much. Cleaning him took us a whole day. Also because he was unconscious and huge! When he woke up, he was so scared, but I guess seeing an old couple was enough for him to let his guard down. What harm could we do? Honey, if you had seen the way he fell apart when he realized he was safe, you too would have let him stay for as long as he needed to.”

“How long ago was that? The night he arrived?” you packed up the supplies, mentally noting you needed to get more soon if this soldier was going to be staying here for a while.

“Almost a week ago,” your mother moved in closer and lowered her voice, “The first few nights he had night terrors and all we could do was let him ride it out. But now he just paces outside when he can’t sleep. He paces until the sun comes up and sleeps in the morning. But his bleeding hasn’t stopped. It’s not gushing out, but every day it seeps through the bandages like it’s not healing. Maybe the infection is getting bad. I hoped it would have slowed down by now. Is there something you can do about it?”

“I’ll take a look,” you said. “

Your mother reached out and cupped your cheek, “Thank you. It’s almost as if fate brought him here to us because you were going to come home and bring him back to good health.”

With the soldier now at home, you wondered if there would ever be a good time to tell your parents about school. So far, they only know you’re home for a vacation. You had to find the time to tell them soon. You didn’t have the heart to lie to them any more than you already have.

“A nurse can never compete with a mothers’ care, eomma,” you said. “He wouldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for you.”

You took the tea and fresh bandages to the room to find he’d already finished eating. He had practically scraped the rice bowl clean and the soup bowl looked new, “More food? I made a lot.”

He nodded, “I’m glad you like it,” you said. “Do you mind if I clean your wounds first?”

The soldier shook his head as he gulped down his water, “There’s ginger tea as well. I hope you can drink a lot of that so you’ll get better faster. Then tomorrow, I can get us abalone for soup and some vitamins to help you get your strength back.”

You moved to the door, “Eomma, can you bring in more soup, rice, and kimchi, please? I’ll take care of the bandages.”

“Alright, turn to the side and hold onto your shoulder so I can see the big one that won’t stop bleeding,” he obeyed and you gently tapped him, “Don’t stretch too much, it might agitate the wound and tear the areas that have just started to heal.”

You scooted closer and slowly peeled off the gauze which was adhering to the raw parts of the wound, “A bullet hit you,” he must have endured much more than you imagined, “I don’t think eomma cleaned this too thoroughly. But then again, not many people have experience with bullet wounds. Luckily, there’s no bullet lodged in there, it’s just a very deep gash from a very sharp bullet.”

You looked up at him, remembering one night in the E.R. when a mall shooting took place in a nearby town. There were no more beds in the local E.R. so a lot of the patients went to your hospital. You knew what an ordinary gun’s bullets were like, but the suspect of the shooting used military-grade weapons that created wounds that left similar marks to the ones on this soldier.

Does this mean he was shot at by the Korean military? Was he indeed a fugitive?

“This is going to sting,” you warned him as you began to clean the wound. For the first time, you heard his voice as he winced and grunted in pain. It was low and rough. And for some reason, the sound awoke some of the butterflies in your stomach.

No, he’s a fugitive. Stop , you thought to yourself.

“I’m going to change the gauze again tonight before bed, but this bandage around you can just be washed whenever you shower,” you said. “I don’t think you need stitches, but you do need zippers to hold it together. It’s a pretty deep gash.”

You decided to take a chance, “How did you get it?”

He turned his head in your direction for a brief moment, but his gaze remained downcast. Once again, he did not reply, “Alright, less questions, I promise,” you said.

In silence, you packed up the supplies and placed them in the corner of the room, “I’ll get you new clothes too. If anyone here sees you in military garb, it’s going to cause a stir in the town. So, please, stay home and away from plain sight just for today. I would have lent you my fathers’ clothes if you weren’t Godzilla’s human offspring.”

A soft chuckle startled you and you turned to find him facing away, his head down as he shook slightly from laughter. A small smile played on your lips, guess he’s human after all.

“I’ll leave in an hour,” you said as you stood, “Let me know what you need before then.”

.

“Honey, I can do it,” your father insisted. “You’re here on vacation. I’ll get the supplies.”

“Okay,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “What’s the difference between a band-aid and bandage?”

Your father pats you on the shoulder, “Go out there and make us proud.”

“Just please make sure he doesn’t leave the house,” you pleaded to your parents. “I don’t mind taking care of him at all, but it would be a problem for me if the neighbours started talking. Do you guys promise?”

“We promise, dear,” your mother assured you. “Be safe and come home right away.”

.

On the walk back up the hill to your home, the smell of meat hit your nose. It was mouth-watering, especially since you’ve been living on instant noodles and convenience store food for most of your time in Seoul. You opened the gate only to be greeted by a cloud of smoke and your parents slightly intoxicated on the pyeong sang, sharing a blanket.

“Honey!” your father called, “Our young hero is apparently an excellent cook!”

You looked to the side and saw the soldier grilling beef and corn, fanning the flame as he did so. He was still in his military pants but this time, his shirt was your oversized Hello Kitty sleeping shirt which looked like a normal shirt on him. It was bright pink and his sleeves were rolled up. You couldn’t help how your eyes had involuntarily darted to his arms as they flexed from how quickly he fanned the flame. That, and he was also wearing your mom’s floral apron which was cinched at his waist. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on his broad shoulders, thick arms, and small waist. Not now , you reminded yourself.

Your mother jumped out of her seat and helped you bring your things inside, “He’s in much better spirits, I see,” you said to her once you entered the kitchen. “Did he finally talk?”

“Not really,” your mom unpacked your purchases on the counter, “He saw your father struggle and stepped in to help. We let him. He has a knack for it.”

.

You woke in the middle of the night to the sound of the front door. You looked at your parents and they were fast asleep. You suspected it was probably the soldier who was stepping out. Your mother did say he had a habit of getting up to walk around until dawn.

Putting on your jacket and shoes, you opened the front door and found him in the navy blue track suit you bought him. It fit perfectly.

He was pacing the pebbled area between the front gate and the house. You leaned against the door to watch him with his hands in his pockets. The closer you looked, you noticed he was breathing heavily, as if he was about to sob, but was holding it back. 

You know what this is.

He was having a panic attack.

“Can I help?” You spoke up. He spun around, eyes red, brows furrowed, bottom lip quivering. He nodded desperately, almost shaking off the sweat from his brow.

You went into the house and pulled up a clean towel from the storage cabinet nearby, “Here,” you handed it to him, “Wring it, squeeze it, pull it, anything. Get rid of the excess energy that you have. I would advise you to go for a run, but our street lights are still not finished. Go on, then.”

And he did just that. He wringed the towel, squeezed it and pulled it in opposite directions, “Don’t be afraid to destroy it. We have more. If this will take you through a hundred towels, it’ll be worth it if you feel better.”

For a while you watched as he let out his aggression on the towel. It wasn’t much, but to you, anxiety had always started with too much energy. Releasing that energy was your first aid response to it before you moved on to more calming methods. You were happy to see how it was working on him, how he was calming down because of it.

“How do you feel?” He simply nodded in response, stretching out the towel to fold it properly and taking a seat next to you on the pyeong sang. “When you get agitated, nervous, or anxious, try to dispense excess energy first. Aside from the towel, you can exercise, do heavy chores like cutting wood—get creative. It's a good first aid response sometimes.”

He nodded and placed the towel on the mat, “I have something else to show you, but I still don’t know your name.”

The soldier reached into his shirt and pulled out two silver tags. He clipped his chin down to look at the names before tucking one back in. He leaned forward to show it to you and you leaned in too to see Private Kim Mingyu.

You looked up smiling, mere inches from him, “Hello, Private Kim Mingyu of the Republic of Korea Military Corps. Nice to meet you.”

He smiled. For the first time since you met him, he smiled and it’s like he became an entirely different person. There was life in his eyes. A bright, bright light radiated from him and very nearly pulled you in. Especially because he looked at you with such gratitude and sincerity.

“Would you like to try a breathing exercise?” he nodded, pulling his feet up from the ground and tucking it under him on the platform. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness.

.

Days have gone by and meeting Mingyu outside at 3am to calm him down has become routine. During the day, now in civilian clothes, he would assist your mom in cooking or your dad with his chores.

Your parents weren’t young, so it was nice to share the bulk of the work with Mingyu instead of everything falling on your lap.

Another reason coming back home was important to you, was because your parents were older than the folks of people your age. They had tried to conceive for almost fifteen years when, like a miracle from the heavens, your mother finally gave birth to you at the age of 45 while your father was 55. It was the happiest moment of their lives, but the age they were in made your childhood very different from other kids.

They couldn’t exactly keep up with you. At least not in the way they wanted to. While other kids’ parents coached the games or choreographed dance performances, being their age, your parents always had very limited participation. And you could never miss the hurt in their eyes when they were mistaken to be your grandparents.

But you never held it against them because there was never a shortage of love in your home. 

Now, in their senior years, you wanted to make them feel like they could live a little easier. You wanted to give back. But right now, you found yourself in a pickle, and on the brink of breaking news that could break their hearts.

Mingyu was a great help since you and your parents learned he could cook. He seemed to enjoy it too which allowed you and your parents time to sit and chat for a moment before dinner.

Here goes nothing, “I have something I’ve been wanting to tell you both, if you don’t mind.”

Your father set down a fresh batch of makgeolli and put out four glasses for it, “Of course not. We could even listen to you speaking Gibberish for a whole day and we’d still be enchanted. It’s just so nice to have you back home.”

“That’s the thing. I told you I’d only be here for a few weeks right? Well, I’m here for a lot longer than that… indefinitely.”

“I would be overjoyed, but I’m worried about your studies,” your mother said.

You took a deep breath right as Mingyu placed the food in the middle and began serving everyone, “Two years ago, the university had to endure a scandal. It reached the patrons and they began to lose funding. It affected my scholarship and I was expected to pay 50% of it which was still almost 150% out of our budget. I didn’t want you to worry, so I filed for a leave of absence to work in the hospital as a receptionist and candy striper. I also juggled a job as a department store clerk.”

Mingyu’s actions slowed as he listened. Your parents stared at you in shock, “I was too ashamed to come home so I stuck it out in Seoul for two years, hoping that I could earn enough to return to school. And though I’m close to having enough for a whole academic year, I’ve gotten so tired. So I came home to rest.”

You finally looked them in the eyes, “I’m so sorry to disappoint you. I’m not yet a nurse, but since my time in the hospital, I learned so much. I promise you I will complete my education soon.”

The silence and tension were thick enough to cut with a machete. 

Your father was staring blankly at the center of the platform while your mother had a worried look plastered on her face. Mingyu was the only one who looked you in the eyes. He took off his grilling glove from one hand and reached over to squeeze your hand.

Something about his soft smile was so reassuring to you that it lent you a little bit of strength as you awaited your parents’ response.

Your father finally looked up at you when Mingyu finished handing everyone their bowls of rice, “Mingyu, I’m sorry you have to sit through a tense discussion of a family. I hope it doesn’t cause you too much discomfort.”

“Honey,” your father began, “I’m not happy you kept this from us for so long, but I couldn’t be happier you’re home. You made a hard decision and you stuck to it for as long as you could. I’m proud of you. Sometimes life wins a round or two over us, but we don’t have to be defeated by it.”

“He’s right, dear,” your mother consoled you, “You could have come running home the day it was announced, but you made a way. I think you earned this rest so you have more energy later on to make more adult decisions again. You’ve done well. You deserve a break.”

That was all it took for the waterworks to start. You sobbed into your arms which you folded over your knees that were pulled to your chest as your parents moved away from their seats to embrace you. Mingyu sat there, witnessing how loved you are, unable to avoid wondering what that felt like.

That same night, you got up at 3am like clockwork and went out to meet Mingyu, but he wasn’t where he would usually be. You went around the house quietly so as not to wake your parents, and found no sign of him.

You returned to the pebbled area and sat on the pyeong sang, maybe he went for a walk. But low-key, you were nervous he might have made a run for it.

While he was in good enough shape to return to his real home, you were more worried your parents would feel abandoned by—

Your ears perked up when you heard sniffling. It sounded like it was coming from outside the gate. So you opened up and looked around before noticing someone sitting on a street corner with their knees to their chest.

“Mingyu?” 

He looked up at the sound of his name. You couldn’t see much, so you approached him, noticing he’d been in tears.

“I’ll go get you a towe—“ you felt a tug at your sleeve as he stood.

“Can we take a walk instead?” Were the first words he ever spoke to you.

.

The first few moments of the walk were silent, except for the sound of your feet and his alternating against the grain of the rough road. His hands were in his pockets as he mentally searched for the words to say to you.

Mingyu noticed how patient you were with the silence. He almost wanted to keep things this way so he could watch how you were almost comforted by it. In fact, he felt rude for wanting to speak. But he needed to, and you were the first person he wanted to say it all to.

Mingyu’s voice was soft but almost as coarse as the path beneath him, it was a smooth shift from the silence, “My father and mother died when I was 8,” you looked up at him as you listened intently, “I was left with their friends who turned out to be bad people. By 15, I began to live on my own. I didn’t finish high school, but I like to think I was street smart. I was able to fend for myself before joining the army at 23. The men were like family to me—hyungs I never had. But even that didn’t last very long. And when I saw your parents embrace you earlier, I realized I forgot what it was like to have my own. While my comrades were like brothers to me, the love of a parent is very different. I was just missing them and my comrades a little bit more than usual today.”

You watched as he sniffled back the tears, grateful he opened up. Somehow, you’d begin to worry about his silence. He wasn’t mute, that was sure, but sometimes trauma can cause neurological damage. Not being able to function like you used to can cause so much frustration.

You could only hope this is one of many things he’s found the courage to share.

“Family is a strange concept,” you said as you both turned a corner and stopped under a dimming street lamp. “I’ve always had my parents with me. They’re together, alive, healthy, and they can provide. But growing up, kids would always make me feel like it was the wrong kind of family, that it wasn’t normal. It was only when I got older that I understood what family meant. To me, it’s anyone you’re willing to be a home for.”

You made sure to look Mingyu in the eyes when you told him, “I don’t know how much of your home is left, but for whatever’s lacking, I hope you know you have us.”

You didn’t see it coming when Mingyu moved in to embrace you in his arms. At first you thought he was about to cry, but you realized it was a sigh of relief, as if he’d learned to breathe again.

.

Your father had taken a liking to Mingyu. In fact, there were times they would both complain in unison about how you nagged them about their chores. Even though they had a way of getting on your nerves, you were happy to see them get along. You knew that even if your father loved you very much, it was different for a man to have a son, so you let them have it.

Having Mingyu around has made your father feel young again. They even started getting to work on the storage shed, converting it into a man cave. Actually, it wasn’t much of a man cave. It still remained to be a storage shed, except it was more organized so they could fit two chairs inside and a steel water drum that Mingyu fashioned into what could function as both a side table and an ice box for drinks.

Some days, they would be there for hours.

You and your mother were standing outside the shed in your apron, gloves, and spatulas, halfway through preparing dinner as you both listened to the cackling that echoed from the shed, “He’s made your father very happy lately,” your mother said as you nodded.

“I’m glad,” you replied, “But the dishes are piling up and I have half a mind to drag them both out by the ears.”

Your mother playfully smacked you, “Let them have it today. We can always hostage the meat if they spend too long in that shed again.”

.

You noticed that Mingyu was incredibly invested in your father’s fishing work, so you took it upon yourself one day to make sure you two got to help him out. 

Mingyu was like a kid at Christmas. 

By 3am, as you got up to prepare breakfast, you saw him outside in the freezing morning climate preparing his own equipment from your father’s excess tools. He fixed the lines and diligently sorted the bait and extra hooks. He was so invested you decided not to spoil his fun by telling him your dad’s chosen method was to cast a net instead of individual lines.

As Mingyu walked ahead to the dock, insisting he carry everything but the kitchen sink, you and your father followed closely behind. You had a backpack of packed meals and a jug of hot coffee in one hand while the first aid kit was in the other.

“You know I love you, right?”

You looked at your father quizzically, “What makes you say that? I know you do.”

“Good,” he nodded. “I didn’t want you to think I’ve forgotten about you because I’ve spent so much time with Mingyu.”

“I’ve had you all my life, appa,” you said with a smile, “I like that there’s someone else that appreciates you and eomma the way I do. Besides, he’s been more helpful than I can possibly imagine. We need muscle at home and he’s got plenty.”

“Plenty enough to make you want to marry him, maybe?”

“Appa!” you yelped as you whacked his arm, catching Mingyu’s worried attention.

Mingyu stopped and spun around, “Ahjussi! Are you okay?”

Your father fell into a fit of giggles, “I’m fine,” he gasped through his laughter, “I’m fine. I was making fun of my daughter again. She hates it when I do that.”

“I got worried,” Mingyu straightened up, chest puffing up, “I thought you fell or something.” Mingyu turned around and began walking again, but your father called out to him.

“Mingyu,” Mingyu turned to meet your father, “Call me appa.”

.

It was a sweet gesture for your father to let Mingyu call him appa . You couldn’t help but beam the entire day as he maxxed out the use of the word, inserting it every chance he got.

When more than enough fish was caught, your father took time to sit with Mingyu and teach him his own way of line fishing. “This is great if you just want to fish for the house. The net is more for the fish I need to deliver to the local markets.”

Mingyu rolled up his line, “How much of the market fishes can you keep?”

“Whatever’s excess of about 50 kilos,” your father explained.

Mingyu’s brows furrowed, “That’s a lot. But not if your fish is this big all the time,” he gestured at the ones at the back of the boat.

“Exactly,” your father nodded. “It’s not hard, but it’s gotten harder since I’ve aged. My arthritis forces me to spend a little more time on the boat than I used to.”

You watched as Mingyu’s face lit up, “How about I work for you, appa?”

“I can’t make you work, you already do so much at home!”

“No, I’m serious,” Mingyu said, “My injuries are healing well, I’ve still got the stamina from my training, and I would feel better if I could help you come home earlier to rest.”

Your father looked at you and you mouthed, “Muscle, appa.”

He laughed, “Alright, but I’m paying you a wage for your work.”

“Please, appa, you’ve already given me a home, meals, and a family,” Mingyu looked at you both, “I don’t need wages. My retirement from the army will start coming in once I can go to the mainland and contact the provincial base.”

“When do you plan on going? I need to go to the mainland too,” you handed him his coffee, “Want to go together?”

“I don’t care if you’re a millionaire,” your father scoffed, “I’m going to pay wages for work done. End of discussion.”

You leaned in to whisper to Mingyu, “I suggest you take it if you want to avoid your first father-son quarrel.”

He beamed so brightly it was blinding, “Father-son,” he repeated softly.

.

You and Mingyu set out for the mainland on Mr. Han’s boat. It was a thirty minute ride out of your island, so it gave you two some time to appreciate the scenery. “I never want to leave,” you heard Mingyu say, “Even if you all get tired of me, I want to have a place here some day.”

Your curiosity set in, “Are you not bothered about the experience that got you here?”

“No matter how far I travel, those memories won’t leave me,” he admitted. “Besides, it led me to you, didn’t it? I’ve been able to start fresh here. My pain is in the jungle, but my healing was in your home. I love it here.”

“Is it too soon to ask you what you saw?”

“I’m worried you might think I’m a coward,” he admitted. “I didn’t deserve to be the one that survived that mission.”

“What makes you say that?”

He leaned back on the edge of the boat, his elbows resting on the ledge as he stretched his feet, “We were ambushed while I was on the night shift. If I wasn’t dozing off, I would have heard them approach and had time to grab a weapon. There were eleven of us. As I retreated into the woods, I made the mistake of looking back to see eight of the men already dead. My best friend, Private Kong, and our leader Corporal Lee made it to the woods. We split up to increase our chances of surviving, but Corporal Lee was shot in the shoulder before we could get far enough from each other.”

“Right,” you softly muttered, “The name on the other tag that you have.”

Mingyu nodded and let out a shaky sigh, “I turned back to get him against his orders and proceeded to run with him alongside me. I tried to run in a direction to reach Private Kong at some point. The moment we locked eyes and he was about to come help me carry Corporal Lee, he was shot in the head. I can’t forget the way the bullet came out the other end...almost clean. I wanted to go back for his body, but there was no way the corporal and I would survive if I did that, so we kept running.

“As we continued to flee, he got heavier, and I noticed he was losing blood. The worst part was when I realized where the bullet had hit him. It was shot at an angle that went from his shoulder to his heart. I had no way of knowing how deep it was, but it was enough for me to know he had a chance of surviving. Had it hit his heart, he wouldn’t have died on the spot. So, I carried his full weight for a few more hours.”

“Who attacked your unit?”

“Locals,” he lied.

“What island were you on?”

“I forget,” but he knew. He even remembered the exact coordinates of their ambushed camp, but saying it would mean you would be unknowingly dragged into this mess. There were some things that were better left unsaid.

“I don’t know if it counts for anything, but I’m happy you survived,” you said as you reached over to squeeze his hand, “Knowing you has brought so much light into our lives.”

Whenever Mingyu looked at you, his strength escaped him. He could almost collapse, but he also felt a surge of superhuman strength at the same time. Knowing you and your family gave him purpose just as he believed he was turning into someone who’d be dead on their feet.

“I can’t even express what you and your family mean to me,” Mingyu turned his hand so his fingers intertwined with yours. His grip was secure. To you, he was the human manifestation of what safety felt like.

You fought the urge to be consumed by the butterflies in your stomach and the electricity that surged from his touch. It was so different from the night he squeezed your hand when you were breaking the news to your family about your leave of absence from school. That was comforting. This one, this grip--it’s sure. It elicited a feeling of desire and a need to live in his presence.

.

You finished your errands for the day and approached the war office where you agreed to meet Mingyu. It was a busy, slightly disappointing space with the most depressing interior. You looked around and spotted Mingyu sitting with an officer at a desk. Deciding to sit where you could still see him, you continued to watch his expression from a distance. He was sitting with attention as he fought back tears in between what he was saying. The officer across him transcribed everything.

This went on for another ten minutes before they both stood and saluted each other. The officer reached out once more and shook his hand. 

Mingyu spotted you and you stood to meet him, “Well? How did it go?”

“I have some paperwork before me, but I’m officially retired. My pension will start coming through and if I’m needed for service, it’ll only be for office work and not action.”

You reached up and caressed his shoulder, “What made you cry?”

“Naming every member from my unit that was killed,” he took a deep breath to keep from crying once more, “It was the first time I said their names since the ambush.”

The breathing exercises didn’t work, because he collapsed onto the chair and began to sob. You took a seat next to him and pulled his head to your chest, rubbing his arms and back to comfort him. When he found the strength to sit up, he said, “There’s no way to retrieve their bodies. Their families won’t even have a body to bury. What peace can come from it?”

“There is no peace when someone dies, no matter how they go,” you said to him, “But you gave them closure with your report. Their families won’t be guessing, Mingyu. They now have the chance to heal. At least now their memory can be properly honored.”

Mingyu’s breathing slowed as he calmed down. Even though he was still filled with grief, he believed you. He needed to if he wanted to heal from this.

.

The boat ride home was beautiful as you watched the sunset from the cool breeze that passed through the boat. You forgot to bring a hair clip, so your hair began to flap in the wind obstructing your view and what could have been a peaceful experience, “This,” you spat hair out of your mouth, “I do NOT miss.”

Mingyu chuckled and dipped into his envelope of military paperwork, taking a rubber band from a file, “Hold still, okay?” he moved to turn your body to face where the wind was coming from so it cleared your face.

“But, I wanna see the sunset,” you pouted.

“You will if you just sit still for a while,” he turned your head again as you attempted to look at the orange orb setting in the distance. He placed the rubberband on his wrist as he gently stroked your hair back with one hand while the hair was gathered in the other. He peered at your profile on each side to make sure everything was pulled back.

“Tell me if it’s too tight,” he said, bringing his teeth to the band on his wrist to pull it up to his knuckles. 

You shook your head lightly, “It’s fine.”

He tugged at your ponytail for a brief moment so he could get the band in, “I’ll cut it off for you when we get home so you don’t tug any hair off,” he split the ponytail in two, pulling it in opposite directions to tighten it. When he finished, he gently gripped your shoulders and turned you to face the sunset, finally.

“Ah!” you cooed, leaning forward to cross your arms on the edge of the boat and stare dreamily into the sunset. Mingyu did the same next to you.

“Beautiful sunset, isn’t it? It’s different from here,” you said.

“What do you mean? I’m staring at the sunrise,” you heard him say. You turned, ready to poke fun at him for not knowing the difference, but your breath got caught in your throat when your eyes met his, realizing he had been watching you the entire time.

.

Dinner would have been ready a lot sooner if it wasn’t for all the moments you spaced out.

“I don’t want to nag you, but I think you’re close to burning the soup,” your mother commented. You snapped back up in a slight panic when you learned she was just pulling your leg.

“Anything the matter?” she asked as she took over the soup and gestured for you to wash the lettuce.

“I just had a long day,” you said. “I’m a little tired, but it’s no big deal.”

“Alright,” your mother was one of the most observant people you know. Pretending like nothing wrong wasn’t going to fool her, but she went on and continued to cook. She knew you enough to know you’d come forward sooner or later. Fortunately, her hunch was a positive one.

“Why don’t you bring that tray over to Mingyu so he can put the cooked meat on it?”

“What?” you tried not to sound too surprised at the mention of his name, “What about Mingyu?”

“Why are you so startled? I just asked you to bring the tray, not kiss him,” she smiled facing away from you, trying to dig a little and see if her hunch was right.

“Why would I kiss him?” you asked, almost dropping the dishes, “He’s like my brother.”

“But he’s not.”

“But he’s like it.”

“He’s still not though.”

“Eomma,” you deadpanned, “Where are you going with this?”

“Where are you going with him ?”

“Okay,” you threw your hands up in defeat, “I’m not having this conversation.”

“But we already did,” she said, feigning innocence. “Oh come on, honey, don’t tell me you never once found him attractive? He’s a living, breathing Adonis.”

“Eomma!”

“Scold me all you like,” her nose up in the air, “But I will have the last laugh when there’s a baby crying in the next room.”

“You’re insufferable!” you took the tray and walked out to the sound of her maniacal laugh.

Mingyu? Attractive? A living Adonis? Your mother was clearly just trying to have some fun. 

You slipped on your sandals and stepped out into the front yard, your dad was nowhere in sight. He was probably in the shed. 

Instead, you were met with a shirtless, sweaty man chopping wood. Mingyu looked so much larger without a shirt on.

Hey! What are you thinking? You mentally slapped yourself. 

This wasn’t like you. 

You were surrounded by beautiful men in Seoul and didn’t dare look at any of them twice, yet here you were almost drooling at the sight of an worked up, shirtless Mingyu wiping the sweat off his brow like he were a piece of meat and you hadn’t eaten in days.

You put the tray down on the pyeong sang and scurried back inside to grab a towel, “Kim!” you called out as you tossed the towel at him. It plopped right on his face and he laughed as he pulled it down.

“I thought someone from my unit came back to life when you called me by my surname,” he laughed and lifted the towel up, “Do I look anxious? I’m just chopping wood for your dad. I’m actually fine today.”

“Not that,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re dripping in sweat.”

“Oh,” he put down the axe and stood upright, stretching to release tension from his chest and shoulders, “Thanks,” and for some cruel reason, he decided to arch his back. No matter how much he stretched, every single muscle line was still defined, embedded into his skin. You noticed his healing scars. You would never wish for anyone to get injured the way he did, but seeing those scars against the definition of his obliques was...different.

He lifted the towel to his chin, then around his neck, past his shoulders and collar bones, and in a zigzag motion, he wiped his torso down past his chest, washboard abs, and then below his belly button. As if you didn’t suffer enough, he tugged at the garter of his sweats to wipe the bones that jutted from his hips. And because God seems to hate you, Mingyu decided to tuck the tip of the towel to his waist band (which was not on the waist), yanking his pants down another few millimeters.

“We’ll be ready with the side dishes in twenty minutes!” you all but yelled as you slammed the door.

Your father stepped out into the yard, confused, “Something wrong? Why was she yelling?”

“I’m asking myself the same question, appa,” Mingyu scratched his head.

“Well, even if you didn’t do anything wrong, just assume you did and you’ll live a longer life,” he pat Mingyu on the back. “Happy wife, happy life.”

“Wife?”

Your father looked confused, “What?”

“You said happy wife, happy life,” Mingyu repeated back.

“Did I?” he feigned forgetfulness, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Hey!” your father scolded, “I might be an old geezer, but I know what I did and didn’t say.”

“Sorry, appa,” Mingyu turned and wiped his brow while your father snickered on his way back to the shed.

.

“It’ll only be two weeks,” your mother explained, trying to soften your reaction. Your father had altogether decided to tap out of the discussion after your multiple objections and concerns, leaving your mother to persuade you herself.

“Seriously, help me understand, eomma,” you straightened up again, setting your irritation aside, “Your younger sister has the money to hire ten people to tend to her farm and she’s asking you to come over and take care of it for cat food? In your old age? One wrong move in that creaky, cheap stable of hers and appa could get paralyzed! Is she insane?”

“She’s my sister, honey, and it’s just two weeks,” she pleaded. “She’s going to be in the hospital--”

“Getting a breast lift!”

Mingyu choked on his mouthful of rice, your father patted him on the back, “Honey, don’t talk about your aunt that way.”

“Only when she stops working you to the bone for a fraction of a day’s wages,” you stood, “This is outrageous and it drives me nuts that you can’t see that. I love you guys very much, but you’re being pushovers. You’re supposed to be retired, rested, enjoying the fruits of your labor. Instead, you’re getting into more labor.”

“Think about it, sweetie,” your father said, “It’ll be helpful for your return to school too.”

“No way!” you’ve had just about enough. “I never asked for money because I knew you’d do this. I knew it,” you began to tear up. “You’ve already given me everything I ever needed and you’re still out here covering for me. I won’t allow it. If I see any deposit in my bank under any of your names--even HIS--,” you pointed at Mingyu, “I’m never speaking to you again!”

You stormed off into your room.

.

You were curled up under a blanket in the corner of your bedroom when you heard the door slide open, “Go away!”

“If I did I’d have nowhere to sleep,” Mingyu said, gnawing on a steamed sweet potato.

“Oh,” you sat up, “I forgot.”

He took a seat on the opposite corner, “But if you don’t feel like talking to them yet, you can sleep in here with me. There’s enough room. I mean, it’s yours after all.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay right here if that’s okay,” you said, pulling in your blanket.

Mingyu leaned against the wall, his legs folded under him as he continued chewing. You noticed he kept looking back at you, “I feel like you want to say something.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your flow earlier,” he said, “You were so angry I thought you needed to let it out.”

“What is it?”

He kicked his legs out and used it to drag himself closer to you, “I was thinking,” he leaned forward, “What if we went instead of your parents? We could do the work, you could haggle for a higher price since we’re overqualified and can clearly do more. Your parents get to rest, the household makes more money, and we make a trip out of it. What do you say?”

You sustained your pout, you weren’t ready to be calm about it. You were still mad your parents even considered it, but it sounded like a really good idea.

Mingyu put the potato to your lips and you looked up at him. You went to your room too early and missed out on the sweet potatoes which were your favorite. So, you jut your head forward slightly and bit into the potato, “Fine,” you said with a mouthful.

He grinned, “Do you want to tell them?”

“Not yet,” you said as you swallowed, “I’ll call up my aunt tomorrow to arrange it.” you opened your mouth again and he brought the potato back to it as you took another bite.

.

As much as you disliked your mom’s younger sister, you loved Jeju island. It was a bit of a journey from your island to the mainland, to the provincial airport, to Seoul, to the main airport again; but all the transfers were worth it.

“How much money is my dad paying you?” you asked, eating the eleventeenth item Mingyu fed you as you got on the bus from the Jeju International Airport to your aunt’s farm.

“Well, he won’t let me pay rent, so I decided to feed his daughter,” he lifted a mooncake, “Ah.”

You obediently opened your mouth and took a bite, “Oh, this one’s good. What is it?”

“Matcha and red bean,” he said, popping the other half into his mouth.

You swallowed, “Where is this need to keep feeding me coming from?”

“If I fatten you up enough, you’ll have a harder time running away from me.”

You lifted your brows inquisitively, “What makes you think I want to run away from you?” Mingyu’s response was to turn away quickly and feign a cough the moment he felt heat rise to his cheeks, “I’m trying to get my parents to stop working and you’re keeping me from working too.”

Mingyu slumped, rolling his eyes as you bit down a laugh, “You just had to ruin everything, didn’t you?”

“Well, you’ve ruined men for me, Kim Mingyu,” you admitted, looking out the window and adjusting to a resting position so you could take a nap, “I’ll never get a boyfriend now because you’ve set the bar too high. If I die single, it’s you’re fault.”

You close your eyes and let the movement of the bus lull you to sleep, completely missing how your words might as well have been an arrow to his chest. Mingyu couldn’t quite understand how he could ever feel this way about anyone after you either.

.

To your aunt’s credit, the farm was beautiful. Her home had rice fields on their side with a grassy field south of the bungalow leading to a grassier terrain of undeveloped land. A five minute walk from the house, at the edge of the grassy field, was a stable and a few chicken coups. It wasn’t for commercial production the way the rice fields were, but they needed upkeep as well.

Your aunt accepted the horses and chickens from a friend who’d closed down their farm several years ago. She wasn’t too fond of them, but she liked the idea of having horses around and free eggs. So, she always made it someone else’s problem...specifically, your parents’.

She had already left for Seoul to have her surgery(ies), and her housekeeper, Jiwon, greeted you in the driveway, “Will you be coming over while she’s away?” you asked him as he handed you the house keys and other items needed for the upkeep of the house all in a big brown envelope.

He shook his head, “I resigned a month ago, but agreed to do this turnover before returning home to Ulsan. I can show you to your room and then show you around.”

“Sounds good,” Mingyu nodded, looking around as you both followed Jiwon to the bedrooms. Mingyu leaned in closely to you, bending slightly so only you could hear it, “Her children would be so lucky to inherit this place.”

“She has no kids,” you said, “My parents are next in line for this.”

“No way,” Mingyu’s eyes sparkled, “What a great place for them to retire.”

“They don’t want it though,” you said. “They like where they are. That’s where they fell in love.”

“Remind me to ask them about their love story,” he said to you, “I love listening to those things.”

“It’s like something straight out of a book,” you told him, “Every anniversary, I beg them to retell it. I would love to tell you, but hearing it from them is half the story.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his gaze lingered a little longer on you before Jiwon showed you the room. It was cozy with a queen-sized bed, a windowsill perfect for reading on rainy days, and it’s own bathroom. It didn’t look Korean at all, which greatly reflected your aunts’ obsession with western design. You could have sworn she was a country girl from the west in her past life. Even the curtains were a tacky floral print that were probably vomited out of an eighties southern lifestyle magazine.

“No offense to your aunt--” Mingyu started, but you lifted a hand.

“I would give her every offense if I could,” you looked around and faced Minyu, mouthing, “It’s hideous.”

He stifled a laugh and nodded, “Jiwon-ssi? Where will I be sleeping?”

“This is it,” he said. “The only other bedroom is the master bedroom and it’s locked. She was expecting your parents.”

“Oh,” you blinked, “Even the bed? It’s the only one?”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Mingyu quickly said, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Aren’t you two siblings?”

“NO,” was the rather loud, unified chorus line response from you both.

.

Once Jiwon finished turning everything over, he left his phone number with you in case of an emergency.

“So,” you sat across Mingyu on the large L-shaped couch across the fireplace, “We’ve got the rest of the night to relax, and then we can get started tomorrow at the barn and then cook for the rice farmers afterwards.”

“Sounds good,” an awkward silence fell between you both. Every time you were ever alone with Mingyu, it was only for a few moments before you rejoined your parents again. This time, the people that came and went won’t give two hoots what you were both up to. The stable boy would come in once a day for about two hours, and the rice farmers had a rest house near the fields. At the rest house, they had their own place to dine, rest, and freshen up. Basically, the house was just occupied by Mingyu and yourself, for two whole weeks.

“Did it ever occur to you that we might actually get bored?” Mingyu asked. “We’re just doing several rounds a day of making sure nothing catches fire. And a bunch of cooking.”

“Not really,” you said. “We have to go to the bank to collect their wages at the end of every week. We cook their lunch so they don’t have to work during their break. And we feed the animals in the morning before the stable boy takes over in the afternoon. Oh, and we have to keep the house clean. It’s enough to do without dying of boredom.”

“You’re right,” he nodded. And once again, an awkward silence.

Mingyu threw his head back on the sofa before rolling it to the side to look at you from a twisted angle, “How about tonight? Why don’t we just cook ourselves a fancy dinner and pop a bottle of wine open?”

“Are we allowed any of the wine?”

Mingyu lazily reached for the brown envelope on the table which had notes from your aunt, and he read it verbatim, “You may access wine from the bottom shelf. Only those fourth from the bottom and below. The ones on top are gifts.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you shrugged, “What can go wrong?”

.

Dinner was excellent. Mingyu always knew what to do when it came to food. There was something incredibly attractive about a man who knew his way around the kitchen. You kept yourself busy with a glass of wine while Mingyu moved about the kitchen like a figure skater. He had such few and simple ingredients, but managed to make something so delicious.

You had earlier inspected the kitchen to write down a grocery list for the next day and found absolutely no sweets, yet Mingyu managed to cool two ramekins of whipped cream folded in the chocolate of a melted candy bar. You were fascinated by this guy.

He was so thoughtful of every move that you could have watched him for weeks and weeks on end. The way he bit his lower lip, focused on grating the cheese on the pasta. The concentration in his eyes when he wiped the trickled sauce from the sides of the plates. And the smile that grew on his face when he finished the dishes and brought them to the table.

That smile. He was such a man yet he had the giddiest grin you’d ever seen. His eyes would shut when he was really happy. In other times, it would sparkle when he’d get excited. And tonight, it sparkled.

Had it not been for the wine, you probably would have stitched together more coherent sentences complimenting his use of your aunt’s dwindling pantry items and their Cinderella transformation into a fancy dinner. What in the world could this man cook up if he had everything he wanted to cook with?

“Is it so hard to believe a man can cook?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you hiccuped. “Men cook meat...usually. You cooked an excellent pasta and you know how to select wine to pair with it. Am I not allowed to be fascinated?”

“Please, shower me with compliments,” he grinned, his cheeks getting rosy, “Before I went into the on-ground teams, I worked in the kitchens. But before the army, I was a server at a fancy restaurant. I spent my days off learning from the cooks and assisting.”

You’ve had your share of fancy dinners before, especially in Seoul, but there was something extra special about this one tonight. But because of the liquor in your system, you weren’t quite sure if you were more enchanted by the food or the cook.

Mingyu was much more stable than you were with just the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks turning more and more crimson. Meanwhile, you were slowly starting to look like the fresh tomatoes from your pasta. When you weren’t looking, he slowly started to inch your glass away from you, but you weren’t sloshed enough not to notice.

“Are you--,” you blinked rapidly looking for your glass, “Are you trying to cut me off?”

“Trying? I’m going to make sure that’s the last you see of your glass,” he said, half-lidded and tilting his head forward to look at you through his lashes.

As the conversation dwindled because you claimed you stopped feeling your tongue, you and Mingyu moved to the couch to put your feet up. You were both slumped so far down the couch that your butt cheeks were the only things that kept you from melting onto the carpet and underneath the coffee table.

Your tongue might have given up on you, but Mingyu’s was just fine, “What’s your dream?”

You slowly turned your head, tongue sticking out from between your teeth as you deadpanned him and pointed at it, “Right,” he nodded. “Well, my dream is to have a place like this one day. Some place where my kids can run and always have something to do. A quiet place away from the city and endless sky to stare at so that even the smallest change in hue is noticeable.”

You nodded, humming as you pulled your drying tongue back in.

“You know,” his voice was softer, “As much as I would love to have kids, I don’t want to have them if it’s not with the right person. I want them to have a mother who’s kind, understanding, and holds space for them. This way, when the kids get in trouble, their first instinct is to call us.”

He looked at you, “I want to raise my best friends with my best friend.”

You smiled back and tilted your head, endeared by the thought, “Maybe ten of them,” he said as you instinctively covered your crotch with your hands. Mingyu burst out laughing, not expecting that kind of reaction.

“Seven?” he asked with his brows raised as you frantically kept shaking your head, “Five?” still a no from you, “Four?” you lost some of your tension and relaxed. You shrugged in response.

“Two or three? That sound good?”

You smiled, nodding.

Mingyu chuckled and watched as you closed your eyes, your hands relaxed on your lap as your mind floated on the cabernet sauvignon sloshing around in your head. 

A soft smile plays on your lips as you let the alcohol settle. 

Mingyu painted a very pretty picture for you to watch with your eyes shut, leaving you completely unaware of how much heat had risen to Mingyu’s face. Had he sat any closer to you, you would have heard exactly how close his heart was to leaping out of his chest. All because you responded to him as if you imagined what it would be like to have kids together .

He allowed the alcohol to lift his spirits with images from his wildest dreams. Images like the day he would get to kiss you, the night he would get to show you how much pleasure you deserved, the time he would get so nervous to ask for your father’s permission, that rush to the hospital because your water broke, and the days later that he would spend with you preparing for your grown children to visit.

He wanted to live a life full of stories he owed his grandchildren. 

Stories he got to write with you.

His mind jumped heart first into his deepest dreams when he got to look at you freely. Every time you fell asleep on the bus, boat, or plane getting here, he managed to steal the most loving gaze at you. This was just another one of those moments, and he didn’t hesitate to hope at least a hundred thousand more opportunities to do so awaited him.

It tortured Mingyu that he couldn’t recall when he’d fallen in love with you exactly, because it was so gradual, so natural. Every day gave him a new reason. Every minute his affection amplifies.

To Mingyu, sometimes it felt like he already loved you before meeting you. You were so familiar to him, and you fit into his heart as if you were carved from it.

He had so much space in him all this time, and he believed it was some kind of gaping hole, an abyss, a void. But when he got to know you, he realized that the space was just a reserved seat. It was never empty, it was waiting to be occupied. 

Mingyu thought he needed a new life, a new purpose; but really, all he ever needed was you.

You were his purpose.

And it was killing him to have been guessing for almost a year if he meant the same to you.

So with one big fuck it under his breath, Mingyu lifted himself from his position and closed in, craning his neck to press his lips against yours. He could hear nothing else but his own heartbeat.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled back an inch, enough to break the kiss. Mingyu immediately drew himself back and buried his face in his hands, “I’m so--,” he groaned, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I--I’m so, so, so sorry.”

Your only response was to stare at your feet as the tears pooled in your eyes and Mingyu wanted nothing but to have one of the horses crush his skull or drown himself in the rice water. He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or steal your peace just because he couldn’t resist it.

When your tears broke through the surface tension and glided down your cheeks, you lifted your hand to rub your eyes, muttering something Mingyu couldn’t hear.

“I can’t understand what you’re sayi--”

You stood, angry, tears still flowing, “I wanted to experience the moment before our first kiss!”

Mingyu looked at you confused, but you continued, whimpering even harder thanks to the wine, a complete mess of drunken tears, “I always imagined that we would move in slow motion, you know? I imagined I would get to feel your breath on my lips before they’d meet--that I would get a moment to settle into your hold and relish how small I felt in your arms. But no, you decide to kiss me when the room’s spinning, when I want YOU to make the room spin!”

But his only takeaway was, “YOU want to kiss ME?”

“Only every day, Mingyu,” you said weakly. Slowly, you sat back down next to him and grabbed a pillow to hug as you tucked your legs in.

His voice broke the quiet, “Did I blow it?”

You rubbed your eyes, choosing not to respond, “I’m genuinely sorry,” he said sitting up properly on the couch. “I really had no idea. I hope you’ll forgive me. How can I make it up to you?”

Mingyu had no care for reason at this point. Even if he truly knew nothing of your intentions, he wanted nothing more than to fix it. Being right was not his priority. Being with you, was.

You shrugged, “Do it right next time.”

Mingyu took the breath one would take before jumping off a diving board, “Does thirty seconds from now count as next time ?”

Your nod was brief because you almost instantly got lost in his eyes and the way he pleaded with them.

“I want to, but I’m scared I won’t remember it since I’m almost drunk,” Mingyu chuckled at your worry. He was so enamoured of you.

“Almost drunk?”

“Mister, you’re on thin ice,” you reminded him.

“Alright,” he stood and bent down to take your hand in his, guiding you to your feet. He raised your hand and placed it on his nape and proceeded to do it to the other one. “If you forget how I’m about to kiss you, then that just means I’ll have to remind you again.”

Your mind blanked as you let him puppeteer you to fit into his embrace. His hold was secure but gentle enough to let you know you could step out of it at any time.

His hands lowered themselves to your hips, where he gripped you firmly when you lightly stumbled as you moved closer to him. He kept his stance steady but bent over from his chest up so you wouldn’t have to reach too high. Then, he started to sway slightly. Not too much that you needed music, but enough to make his steps smoother as he inched towards you.

He never once broke eye contact, adamant about letting you see how sincere he was about this. He wanted to kiss you so badly. 

Soon, his forehead met yours and you indeed felt his breath on your lips. “Like that?” he asked and you hummed in response. He leaned in so he was less than an inch from your lips, “This is as far as I go,” he said very softly, “You decide where we go from here. You call the shots.”

And just like that, you close the gap. 

Almost instantly, his arms snaked around your torso to pull you in, as if he wanted you to melt right into him. And you could have--GOD, you wish you could have.

His right hand moved up to cradle the left side of your head so he could gently guide it to a position where he could devour you. His lips guided yours open and he smiled against you when he tasted the wine. Somehow it was sweeter on your tongue than on his.

He was convinced that drinking the wine this way was much more intoxicating than drinking it straight from the glass, bottle, or vineyard.

He could have stayed here forever, ready for his lips to live on yours for as long as time existed.

Mingyu couldn’t believe that the lips he’d spent months staring at were right there against his own, moving him to take the lead and savor every second. 

Heat overcame him as his embrace tightened and his kiss got hungrier. He had to tear himself away from you and against his own will to catch his breath. He was panting heavily as he kept his forehead on yours.

“Why’d you stop?” you asked, breathless, lips almost swollen. He reached up to stroke your bottom lip with his finger as a smirk formed on his lips. He seemed proud to have done that to your lips.

“Because,” he panted, “If I didn’t, I’d never be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to,” you all but squeaked, “You have my permission.”

“You’re intoxicated,” he said. “I want you to be there fully, however far we go. You’ll need all the energy, my darling.”

You nodded in agreement and settled to embrace him, your head on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, your arms wrapped around him and barely meeting as his labored breathing expanded his ribs. His heart was racing too. There was no note or song beautiful enough to match this sound.

.

You woke the next morning to feel weight on your ribs and turned to find Mingyu had fallen asleep spooning you. Had his arms not been so heavy, you would have turned to wake him with a kiss. Instead, you settled for gently shaking him and calling out his name. He stirred, and a few moments later, yawned and stretched awake, pulling his arm from you so you could finally turn to look at him.

His bed head was adorable , you thought. His hair stood in all directions and his face was slightly swollen from sleep. His lips were especially plump and you couldn’t help but lean in to kiss them.

His eyes grew wide and he slapped his hand over his mouth, his speech muffled, “I didn’t brush my teeth yet!”

“I don’t care,” you snuggled up to him and rested your head on his chest. It was a different kind of comfort and you couldn’t imagine how you could get up now. This was much more comfortable than your original sleeping position.

Whenever you felt cozy, you had a tendency to let your hands dance around the sheets and take in all the softness, trying to bury yourself deeper into your spot. But this time, with Mingyu underneath you, you let your hands glide across his torso, feeling every inch of him while you remained in slight awe and disbelief that you could now do everything you’ve imagined yourself doing with him.

“Ah, forget it,” Mingyu muttered. You looked up wondering what might have upset him, but he moved too quickly to flip you on your back and caged you in with his hands and knees. He hovered over you for a moment before he slowly, excruciatingly dipped down with the intention to kiss you. And just as he was about to get both your lips to meet, he stops and tilts his head back. You looked at him, confused, while he smirked, sending your stomach into a frenzy of pterodactyls in a mosh pit.

He lowered himself to your jawline, tracing it with butterfly kisses before exploring the expanse of your neck. Your throat. Your collarbones. He fixated on one spot an inch below your clavicle, but it was too late when you realized what was happening. You gasped and looked down, unable to see it. Your eyes darted back up to him, “Did--did you leave a mark, Kim Mingyu?!”

“Where’s the fun in making out if I won’t leave one?” he chuckled as he lifted one hand to pull the bedside alarm clock close, “We still have a few minutes,” he wiggled his brows.

“Really?” you looked at the clock, “I thought we had thirteen more days here.”

He looked like he was about to go feral, “You’re right. I get to wake up next to you for thirteen whole days,” he kissed your throat, “I get to hold you for that much longer,” he lifted your shirt without exposing your chest and hiked up the middle of the hem to plant a kiss on your sternum as you giggled.

“We get to cuddle for another twelve nights,” he beamed as he kissed the top of your belly button, and then he sat up on his knees to tug on the garter of your shorts, “Anything can happen in the next two weeks,” he got back on his hands and knees to kiss your forehead.

“One condition,” he whispered as he kissed the sweet spot below your ear.

“What is it?” you hummed.

“You call the shots,” you could hear how he said it through gritted teeth, feeling the sheets tighten around you as he channeled his energy to his grip. It was taking all his willpower not to lose control now that he was so close to tasting you, “I’m only good at taking orders. I take them very, very well, too.”

.

End of one-shot

QUESTION FOR THE READERS : So… Mingyu...whatta hunk, huh? But no, for real. Though I don’t have a crush on this man the way others do, I know how to appreciate a fine specimen. As an OT13 stan, I see the appeal in all of them. ALL. List your biases, wreckers, and if you want me to write another SVT fic, who should I write about next?

Hello there! 

Thank you for reading all the way through my 13k typewritten daydream. This is my first Seventeen fanfic, so I’m quite happy to have completed this task. I wrote this in a day after spending three weeks staring at a blank document, and one week drooling in front of the outline. Why do I do this to myself?

Funny thing though, Mingyu is not my bias or bias wrecker. He’s actually the one member I wish was my best friend. But I look at these personas from a writers’ perspective and try to see how I can fit my characterizations of them into my stories. 

Of all the story ideas I have collecting dust at the back of my brain, Mingyu x soldier au was a light bulb moment for me. 

I ended up choosing him because my artist collaborator and new Carat friend, Anna, told me her top 3 in SVT because naturally, I can’t choose a member to save my damn life. So, I made it her problem hahahaha

Anna said Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Seungkwan. It was strange to me that I didn’t choose Seungkwan who I’ve openly thirsted for since stanning Seventeen officially in February 2021. My hopes and dreams are the contents of his posterior, might I add. And Seungcheol causes a lot of my short-circuiting on a regular basis.

However, Mingyu as a soldier was so intriguing to me. I imagined an entire drama. I don’t even know how I came up with the concept TBH. I wasn’t much of a fan of military k-dramas anyway...or maybe I am. Who knows?

Do reach out to me anywhere, even anonymously. Let me know what you think. This story is posted on Wattpad (misscheesecakeee) & AO3 (misscheesecakeee) with an index on Tumblr (misscheesecakeee). I also have Twitter (mcheesecakeee). Your interaction is gold to me. I would appreciate even just GIF reactions. It makes a huge difference to know I’m not writing to a wall.

And please be sure to follow me on Twitter or Tumblr. I definitely NEED to write more SVT stories as a Carat and I need more Carat friends. These 13 men make me so happy.

Much fluffy, cheesecakeeee love,

Id