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Early summer;
Soonyoung tugs his overalls on over his boxers at 4:00 am on the dot—usually, he could get away with 4:30, but lately Wonwoo has been picky about what time she’s milked at, and Soonyoung isn’t willing to deal with her while she’s cranky.
Wonwoo the goat was named after Jeon Wonwoo, who is not a lady or a goat. He’s a pain in the ass. Wonwoo the goat is similarly difficult, but much less endearingly so; her problem is that she’s moody, while Jeon Wonwoo’s is that he’s spectacularly unfunny and not getting any less handsome by the day, which pisses Soonyoung right the fuck off. It’s not fair that he has to see him with his dumb cute face and his dumb floral gardening gloves every morning, fog settled over the pasture behind their family’s farms and roosters crowing at the sight of the morning sun.
Soonyoung is in the goat barn in no time, cooing a soft good morning to the chickens on his way. He’s the fastest at milking the goats, even faster than his dad. Soonyoung thinks it’s because he’s younger and more handsome, and the lady goats like that—Wonwoo (not the goat, but probably also the goat) thinks it’s because Soonyoung has a heavier hand. And Jeon Wonwoo would know that, wouldn’t he? He’s trying not to blush now, but to no avail. Wonwoo the goat yells at him for spacing out—she ran out of grain in the meantime. He scrambles to refill it so he can finish milking her, the other goats, and then feed the chickens before he goes to school.
The coop is closer to the far left side of Wonwoo’s family’s farm. Some days, Soonyoung’s routine lines up with Wonwoo’s in a way that leaves them close enough to talk, just over the fence. Soonyoung will wipe sweat from his brow and tug on the straps of his overalls and Wonwoo will smile, make fun of him for smelling like goat. Soonyoung retorts that he smells like radish—he doesn’t really, though. The strawberries overpower the radish smell, so Wonwoo has a tendency to smell fresh and sweet. Or like fertilizer. Dirt. Sometimes manure. There’s no in between, unfortunately.
Today, Wonwoo is by the fence, yanking weeds from the ground meticulously. Soonyoung always thought it was admirable how focused Wonwoo got while tending to his crops, but he would never say that, even though Wonwoo always says how amazing it is that Soonyoung can recognize all the chickens and remembers all their names. To be fair, half of them are Kokko (Soonyoung wasn’t so creative as a kid), but Wonwoo still laughs low in his chest every time Soonyoung tries to call a chicken like a dog.
“Wonwoo-yah,” Soonyoung calls from over the fence, brushing chicken feed off his overalls and watching a Kokko run to the scraps at his feet. “Good morning.”
Wonwoo perks up, shuffling towards him. “Morning.” A rooster, one of Soonyoung’s, crows loudly. Wonwoo’s nose scrunches up in laughter.
Their palms rest steadily on the fence, faces inches away, but Soonyoung knows he can’t kiss him. They’re out in the open. It’s a recipe for disaster.
Wonwoo tugs at the neck of his shirt repeatedly, trying to cool his sweaty collarbone. Soonyoung is absolutely transfixed—he’s suddenly compelled to dab at his forehead, too, cursing the summer for heating the air so much even at 6 in the morning.
“Mingyu is coming home today,” Wonwoo says conversationally, with an unceremonious tug at his gloves, “he’ll be excited—the strawberries are really good this year, right?” His smile is smug, proud.
Soonyoung cringes slightly. Mingyu might’ve grown up on a farm, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t transformed into a completely arrogant city kid. He comes back a few weeks out of every summer to help out, since his grandparents grow watermelons, and though he does a good job, his heart isn’t in it. He’d rather annoy Wonwoo or Soonyoung or flirt with the stable boy from the neighboring horse farm, Junhui.
“They are good, really good.” Soonyoung comments, thoughts back on the Jeon family’s prized strawberries. “I don’t think they’ve been this good for a while.”
Late spring, 2 years ago;
Soonyoung’s family had lost quite a few hens. They’d gotten sick—about 6 of them, and had all passed overnight. One was a Kokko, two were Sooncheol and Soonbae, and the others were To Kill A Mockingbird, Catcher in the Rye, and Lord of the Flies. Wonwoo had named them, of course. Whenever Soonyoung let him name a hen, he’d name it after a novel he had read. It got a little ridiculous, especially considering that Soonyoung shortened their clunky names down to one or two syllables, so they were “To Kill,” “Catcher,” and “Lord” respectively.
Soonyoung was working the morning that he found them. He’d just gone in to feed them, harvest any eggs that had been laid in the night, and was greeted quite unfortunately by a horde of stressed out chickens, angry roosters, and those 6 lost hens. He’d seen chickens die before, but only ever one at a time—he’d gotten so overwhelmed in that moment that he just walked out of the coop and cried softly in the grass next to it, until Wonwoo climbed over the fence and squatted in front of him.
He’s already done with work, it seems. His hands are glove-free. “What happened, Soon-ah?”
Soonyoung whimpers. “They’re—I knew they wouldn’t make it through the night…”
“Oh.” Wonwoo says awkwardly, extending a hand to his shoulder and rubbing it firmly. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. It was their time, right? It was their time. There’s nothing more you could’ve done.”
That just makes Soonyoung cry harder. He’s rubbing tears out of his eyes and smearing dirt on his face in the process. He just wants to go back to bed.
“Soon-ah, it’s okay. Kokko and her friends are in a better place now, yeah? And now you can raise new baby chicks—you haven’t had chicks for a while.”
He really hasn’t raised chicks for a while, but he’s still a bit desensitized to the idea of them when he’s in charge of monitoring the eggs in the incubator. Wonwoo won’t say it, but he’s thrilled, already thinking of names for them. Certainly one of them should be Kokko, and then the others can be novels. Me Before You, maybe, or Pride and Prejudice. He sometimes sneaks into the coop and talks to them—he’s much more endeared by chicks rather than chickens, as he’s never figured out how to hold a hen properly.
A chicken egg takes around 21 days to hatch—the night they’re due to start pipping, Soonyoung wanders out to the coop to check on them before bed. He’s met with a blanketed silhouette in front of the incubator, seated beside a whole pallet of fresh strawberries, at least ten discarded tops littered on the ground for the hens to pick at. It’s Wonwoo. The bags under his eyes are visible when he turns his head towards the entrance of the coop, widened in shock upon seeing Soonyoung there. His profile is illuminated artfully by the warm light of the incubator, and suddenly, taking care of chicks doesn’t seem like it’ll be too much of a chore.
“What’re you doing in here?” Soonyoung asks in a whisper, laughing softly.
“I was… checking up on them… for you…” He murmurs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. Soonyoung squats beside him, looking at the incubator intently. “Shit, this one is cracking—that’s normal, right?”
Soonyoung smiles before hearing a quiet peep, which makes Wonwoo jerk his head in Soonyoung’s direction. “It’s called pipping; they’re going to hatch soon. You should go to bed, Wonwoo-yah, it’s good to catch up on sleep on the weekend.”
Wonwoo doesn’t budge at Soonyoung’s suggestion. “I want to see them hatch,” He confesses finally, “can you stay up with me? I have strawberries.”
Soonyoung cannot deny Wonwoo or strawberries, so he huddles close to him under his blanket for warmth, nibbling on strawberries until early in the morning—Wonwoo looks like he could cry when the first chick pops its head out of the egg, peeping drowned out by the roosters crowing, but still audible.
He doesn’t cry, but he does hold Soonyoung’s hand, bony fingers gross and sticky with strawberry juice fitting snugly between softer and chubbier ones.
Early summer;
So, if Mingyu had visited sometime after that night Soonyoung spent at the incubator, Wonwoo asking Soonyoung to be his boyfriend at some point in between those events, then those chickens were two years old now, and Soonyoung and Wonwoo have been dating for two years without a single soul besides themselves knowing about it.
It’s funny, the way they keep it under wraps. Their strategy is strange and sometimes burdensome, consisting of insulting or bothering the other whenever in public, making them appear more like cousins or good friends rather than lovers. If a boy at school comments that Soonyoung is close friends with Wonwoo, Wonwoo will reply with a chaste “unfortunately,” and Soonyoung will punch him in the arm. If a girl at school tells Soonyoung that Wonwoo is handsome, Soonyoung will gag, and Wonwoo will hit him in the back of the head. It’s simple and effective, keeps suspicious eyes off of them.
The only time they have to be nice to each other is when they’re sure they’re alone—there’s this shed, not far from Soonyoung’s family’s coop, that no one ever goes in. It’s relatively new and clean, used to store all the unused equipment. Plus, the only windows are well above Soonyoung and Wonwoo’s heads, so they often retreat there for a clumsy make out session or a messy, unpracticed hand job. That shed has seen some unsavory things.
Fortunately, they can get away with cuddling in their own bedrooms, so long as their parents aren’t due to walk upstairs. The farmhouses are both pretty old, thankfully, so the stairs tend to creak as a warning for anyone approaching. That gives them ample time to pull away and sit a more modest distance from each other.
Presently, however, there is almost no distance between them. They’re a mess of tangled limbs and hands toying with the short hairs at the back of each other’s necks, breath tickling skin even through clothes.
“We should probably go downstairs, huh?” Soonyoung muses. Wonwoo can feel his words tickle his upper lip. “Mingyu texted me an hour ago saying he was on the train here.”
Wonwoo groans, sitting up with reluctance. “Can’t he stay at Junhui’s house or something? I’m not big on the idea of sharing my room with him.”
Usually, Mingyu stayed with his grandparents, but they were having work done on the house, so they talked with Wonwoo’s parents and arranged that he would stay with him. Wonwoo would rather choke, but it is what it is, he supposes.
“I wish he could, for your sake, but Junhui would enjoy that too much.” Wonwoo scoffs at that and rubs his eyes drowsily.
Late summer, 1 year ago;
Mingyu’s clothes are folded neatly into his suitcase, sorted meticulously, and Junhui stands in the doorway of his childhood bedroom, broad-shouldered and daunting.
“Beloved,” he sings, “leaving so soon?”
“Would you stop?" Mingyu begs with a chuckle. “No one’s home, alright? You can stop flirting with me. It’s a weird diversion tactic, anyways.”
Junhui clicks his tongue. “I guess you’re right.” He practically throws himself on Mingyu’s bed, then, eyeing the clothes on the floor that have yet to be packed. “But really, you’ll bring Jihoon next year, won’t you?”
Mingyu is supportive of Junhui and Jihoon, all things considered. It’s admittedly a bit strange—Junhui falling in love with Mingyu’s close and ultimately more successful friend after auditioning for the entertainment company he works at. Junhui is the model type, the kind of handsome country boy you’d see in a mildly raunchy calendar or something. It seemed unlikely that he’d fall for the short, brilliant, prodigy type, but he did. He definitely did, and Jihoon did too, hard enough to keep in contact with him even with his busy schedule. Junhui would stay up with him on the phone while he composed songs late into the night. They hadn’t seen each other since the last time Junhui went into the city, which was his follow-up interview with the company. In other words, it’s been a while, and while Jihoon does love Junhui, he’s very busy.
Mingyu sighs. “I’ll try, Junhui, but no guarantees.”
“He’s so frustrating.” Junhui’s whine is loud, almost hurting Mingyu’s eardrums.
Another sigh from Mingyu. “Listen, when I told you to audition for the company by my house, I didn’t expect you to have the hots for Jihoon, one of their literal, actual producers—don’t complain to me, this is all on you.”
“Don’t sass me, brat.” He retorts, but it comes out a lot more sad than threatening. “Mingyu-ah, do you think he really likes me? Like, do you think he’s avoiding me? I know he gets vacation time in the summer…”
How many times can Mingyu sigh in the span of a conversation? “Have you ever asked him why he doesn’t come?”
“…No?”
“Junhui,” Mingyu deadpans, fingers at his temples, “oh my God, how has he not told you he’s afraid of horses?”
Early summer;
“My stomach hurts,” Mingyu moans, seated on a bale of hay in the goat barn while Wonwoo helps Soonyoung groom the goats. Wonwoo doesn’t have a knack for animals, but he does like to brush the goats. It keeps them distracted while Soonyoung trims their hooves.
“Probably because you ate enough strawberries for 4 people.” Wonwoo offers. Mingyu sounds like he’s going to complain again, but is cut off by Soonyoung barking a firm order.
“Wonwoo, stop,” he had said, and Jeon Wonwoo had a mini heart attack before he realized Soonyoung said it because Wonwoo the goat was fidgeting.
“You scared the shit out of me, Soon-ah, why did you name a goat after me?”
“Because she’s a pain in the ass.”
“Fuck you.”
Mingyu is howling with laughter at the two of them, falling back on the hay bale and seemingly forgetting his previous ailment. He stays in that position and fiddles idly with the hay that pokes out of the sides, twiddling it between his fingers and listening to the goats call out moodily. The second he closes his eyes, his finger brushes up against something soft and furry rather than rough and grass-like, and his eyes open to see a raggedy cat licking itself rather roughly beside him.
“Oh,” Mingyu coos, “it’s a kitty! You guys didn’t tell me you had a cat here…”
Soonyoung scoffs. He looks over for a moment while trimming Wonwoo’s last hoof, and meets its eyes. They’re dark and angry, ready to kill something, and Soonyoung almost feels bad for wishing that something could be Mingyu. “That’s the barn cat. It’ll claw your fucking face off—I wouldn’t touch it.” Soonyoung had tried it, once. Just the top of its head, but it growled low in its chest, so he stopped quickly. It happens to be the best barn cat he’s ever had. It’s relentless, even going as far as to kill the shrews that tend to muss up Wonwoo’s crops. Wonwoo had hopped the fence to the Kwon’s property once to see 8 shrew heads lined up neatly on one side of the goat barn, the cat sprawled out and bloated with its dinner.
Mingyu starts leaning off the bale, not reaching towards the cat, but looking at it with purpose. “Aw, why’re you calling him an ‘it?’ You name the chickens, hyung, why doesn’t he get a name?”
Soonyoung huffs, leading Wonwoo off her grooming stand. “Because the chickens aren’t killing machines.”
“Mingyu, don’t.” Wonwoo joins, not nearly as serious as Soonyoung, but still concerned.
“Don’t what? I feed a whole bunch of stray cats back at home, they all love me. Why are you so—” And that’s when Mingyu grabs the cat under its arms, immediately followed by a loud, girlish scream from Mingyu and a similarly shrill screech from the cat.
Junhui can hear it from his dining room, where he’s seated awkwardly across from Jihoon, suddenly shy in his presence. Jihoon hasn’t even unpacked his suitcase and Junhui already has butterflies at the idea of sharing a bed with Jihoon later in the night—not even because of his plans to have sex with him, just because he's thought a lot about how good of a cuddler Jihoon probably is.
“What was that?” Jihoon asks, and the way his head cocks is so cute, something Junhui doesn’t get to see often.
“Mingyu, I think. He probably got pecked by a chicken or something.”
“No, no, there were two screams…” Jihoon trails off. He suddenly takes his hat off and ruffles his hair, mouth parted slightly, and Junhui is taken aback. Jihoon shoots him a puzzled glare when he rests his hat on the table.
“Oh my God, Jihoon, did you know that you’re perfect and I love you?” He gushes, cooling his cheeks on then polished wood of the table, reaching his arms across to tug on Jihoon’s sleeves.
Jihoon’s glad Junhui can’t see how red his face is turning. “Shut up, weirdo.”
Early fall, 14 years ago;
The first time Soonyoung went into town, not the city, but town, he was a whopping 4 years old. He was a chubby faced kid, and that was magnified with how much he was crying as his mom dropped him off for his first day of Kindergarten. There weren’t many kids in his class—they were pretty much all the kids of the farmers in the area. All the parents were close but Soonyoung had spent most of his 4 years playing with chickens rather than kids, and when he did play with kids, he played with Junhui, who didn’t speak a lot of Korean. That unfortunately meant that Junhui was not in his Kindergarten class. He’d start school a year later, leading him to meet Mingyu, the kid who bragged about the fact that he was moving to the city with his parents after elementary school.
Soonyoung, through his tears, does spot a familiar face—Wonwoo, from the neighboring vegetable farm. They’d fought the first time their parents introduced them a year ago. Soonyoung found it hard to pronounce “Wonwoo” so it came out as “Nonu” no matter how hard he tried; both the Jeon parents and the Kwon parents ate it up, but it frustrated Wonwoo, so they don’t speak again until they’re sat side by side in the circle of children, Soonyoung still sniveling pathetically and calling for his mom.
They were taking turns telling the class their favorite color. When it was Soonyoung’s turn, he blurted out “yellow” in a sob, and Wonwoo smiled despite everything.
“Mine’s yellow, too,” He'd said, “we should be friends.”
So Soonyoung stops crying, if only for a second, and nods. It’s sort of a superficial reason to be friends, but colors are important when you’re four. At playtime, Soonyoung and Wonwoo bond over that and many other things. Soonyoung talks a lot about chickens and Wonwoo listens intently, remarking that lettuce and radishes are tasty but boring. They end up shoulder to shoulder at a pop-up picture book—the last page has a big pop-up of a castle where a prince and a princess are getting married.
“We should get married, Nonu-yah,” Soonyoung suggests, and Wonwoo just nods gently. He doesn’t seem as excited as Soonyoung initially, but he’s the first to tell his parents, who smile and ruffle his hair. Soonyoung’s parents do the same, but then ask if Soonyoung would rather marry a girl. He says no—they laugh at his insistence, but he doesn’t think much of it. Being married is boring after a few playtimes, anyway.
Early summer;
“You two bicker like a married couple.” Mingyu says from the fluffy toilet seat cover he’s seated on, arms extended in front of him and still bleeding. They’d been arguing over whether to use gauze or band-aids, hydrogen peroxide or antibacterial spray, and Mingyu was just sitting there, Soonyoung holding a clean rag over his worse arm while Wonwoo googled it.
“Wait, it’s not rabid, is it?” Wonwoo asks. Mingyu whimpers audibly.
“No? Wonwoo, just check if it’s okay to use peroxide on it.” Soonyoung suggests. “Also, if we’re a married couple, then I want a divorce.”
Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “It should be okay to use peroxide on it, yeah. It says if it’s deep to use gauze…”
“Oh, it’s deep.” Soonyoung assures, peeking under the cloth.
Wonwoo unravels a bit of the gauze from the roll in the first aid kit, passing it off to Soonyoung while he dabs the wounds gingerly, hydrogen peroxide fizzing up and making Mingyu seethe.
“Would you stop?” Wonwoo laughs, “You had it coming, man.”
Mingyu really can’t disagree with that, so he sits still, watching while Soonyoung and Wonwoo diligently work together in patching him up. After the peroxide debacle, they went quiet not out of spite, but out of purpose. Mingyu’s arms are bandaged in no time and Wonwoo goes to work at the sink, soaking the small spots of blood on his shirt with peroxide too.
“Married couple,” Mingyu reiterates, “you see what I mean? And I’m your dumb kid who always gets himself into shit, divorce would be—”
“It’s gonna be a long one, isn’t it?” Soonyoung guesses, in reference to the summer. Mingyu knees him and he hides behind Wonwoo at the sink, crowing with laughter.
Mid summer;
Junhui’s family’s horseback riding camp starts in a few days—the time leading up to this has been spent trying to get Jihoon used to horses, which has taken a lot of apples and sugar cubes and even more cringes from Jihoon at the feeling of horse lips against his hand.
Junhui thinks he’s finally gotten there, though. Jihoon watches him ride a horse for the first time in July, as he had been reluctant to before. He stays at the fence, completely immersed in Junhui’s posture and how strong he looks atop him. His name’s Jerry, which is not as elegant as Jihoon thinks it should be. Junhui seriously looks like a prince while riding him, so much so that Jihoon is overwhelmed when he leads Jerry up to where he stands at the fence, backing away slightly. He’s overwhelmed, definitely not scared. Definitely not.
“Don’t be afraid, Jihoon. He’s not going to hurt you, especially not while I’m riding him.” Junhui reasons while urging Jerry forward a bit more. Jihoon reaches out to pet between his eyes, cautiously, but he still does it. The horse’s eyes are soft but intensely dark, like Junhui’s. His coat is impossibly silky. Most importantly, he’s still and soundless, head bent down a bit to let Jihoon run his fingers down his face. Jihoon thinks for a second that he could abandon being a composer for this—he sees why Junhui decided to take a break from modelling.
Mingyu’s phone vibrates and lights up next to his arm, a notification reading “jihoonie pet a horse today!!!” He laughs breathily to himself, almost sits up on his air mattress to show Wonwoo, realizing almost immediately that he ducked out a while ago, wordless save for a short “I’ll be right back.” That’s fine and all, but it’s been almost an hour and it’s dark out. Mingyu is a little worried until Wonwoo slips back into his room, crashing onto his own bed.
“Hey, Wonwoo.” He says, raising his brow and glaring in his direction. Wonwoo lies spread eagle on his bed, hair more tousled than Mingyu remembers it being before he left.
Mingyu sounds like Wonwoo’s parents when he prods, “Where were you, hyung? You smell like sawdust.”
“I was putting some stuff away from earlier, don’t sweat it.” Wonwoo lies. He’d been in the shed, doing… you know. He was with Soonyoung in the shed.
Mingyu’s mouth falls open. “Wonwoo, oh my God, is that a hickey?”
Fuck. He’d told Soonyoung to be careful.
Mingyu laughs boisterously while Wonwoo covers his neck. There’s no good excuse for a hickey. What could he say? That he gave it to himself? That a girl from school gave it to him? That’s unlikely and Mingyu knows that.
“Might be,” He says. His face is hot. He wants to hit Mingyu or maybe roll over and go to bed, he can’t decide. Mingyu laughs at him for what feels like forever until speaking again.
“You’re really bad at covering shit up, hyung, you know that?”
“What do you mean by that? Did Soonyoung tell you something?” Wonwoo asks, panicking. It’s not evident in his voice, but his heart is racing.
Mingyu’s clutching his stomach, cheeks cramping. “I meant the fucking hickey, Wonwoo, what does Soonyoung have to do with it?” He pauses then, laughter dissipating, leaving the room dead silent while Wonwoo hides his face in his hands.
“Oh. Oh. You’re fucking Soonyoung. That’s…”
“I’m not fucking Soonyoung!” It’s honest, to some degree, but he corrects himself nonetheless. “I’m not just fucking Soonyoung, I’m also, like, doing other… less sexual things…” Jesus, everything is awkward.
“Ah.” Mingyu nods. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to, but I support you, man.”
People finding out about him and Soonyoung was inevitable. He both dreaded the day it happened and anticipated it—there’s an added weight to his shoulders, but also one taken off, and he can’t quite decide which one is heavier.
Mid spring;
“You want to leave first?” Wonwoo asks, glancing at the door of the shed. They always made sure they didn’t go out together, so no one would be suspicious. Wonwoo even going to that part of the Kwon’s property so often was shifty in the first place. Soonyoung doesn’t reply, just pulls Wonwoo closer to him and exhales.
“This is so stupid, isn’t it?” Soonyoung says, his head tucked into Wonwoo’s shoulder, lips red and softened with kisses. “That we have to hide in a shed just to kiss each other?”
Wonwoo would be lying if he said he thought it wasn’t. In this moment, though, Soonyoung seems fragile, so he doesn’t say anything. His fingers tap at the small of his back, smoothing down the fabric of his shirt lovingly.
“Do you ever want to just stop?” Soonyoung suggests, serious as he’s ever been. His voice is tiny, almost frail, like it could break if either of them spoke any louder. He swallows.
“No.” It’s a simple answer but it makes Soonyoung back out of his arms, analyzing the look on his face. It’s hard to read. There’s tension evident in his brows, the way the wrinkles lead Soonyoung’s gaze down the bridge of his nose. Soonyoung’s eyes soften when they reach his lips, which are quivering slightly—he feels a tear from Wonwoo’s cheek fall into his hair as he crashes back into his chest, holding him tighter, if that was at all possible.
“It’s okay, Nonu-yah, I don’t either.”
Mid Summer, 3 years ago;
The hottest day of the year is never kind to the farmland. The crops suffer no matter how many times they’re watered and the animals are cranky, Soonyoung’s goats crying loudly, the chickens pacing and crowding around their water. Mingyu is drenched with sweat after hauling watermelons to and from wheelbarrows—his shirt is off as he leans against the wall of the stable, blue popsicle smeared on his lips. It could be sexy if Mingyu had the capacity to be sexy at all. He’s much too lanky, though, just finishing up puberty, and looks pitiful.
Soonyoung and Wonwoo had finished working hours ago and had already showered. That was no use, clearly, as they too were downing popsicles like nobody’s business. Junhui stood seemingly unaffected, fanning the three nonchalantly.
“You guys are weak,” He says, “it was even hotter in China in the summer—my body’s used to this kind of heat.”
“Junhui, you moved here when you were three.” Wonwoo says.
“And? I was born in the summer, my blood’s thinner, or whatever.”
“Sure.” Mingyu scoffs. A shout follows it when Junhui twists one of his nipples roughly. Soonyoung slaps Wonwoo in the arm from laughter, and Wonwoo would protest if he wasn’t equally hysterical.
Mingyu is focused on eating his popsicle and holding his chest, but still stares down at Wonwoo and Soonyoung intently as they calm themselves down. He furrows his brow before biting off an unmanageably large chunk of sickly sweet ice, having to talk without biting down on it.
“You two would make a good couple.” He decides. Junhui looks at him funny but doesn’t disagree.
Soonyoung licks a drop off the popsicle stick that threatens to drip down his arm, still smiling at Mingyu’s misfortune. “How?”
“Like, you’re loud and like dancing and singing and you’re actually funny, and Wonwoo is quiet and likes to read and makes dad jokes and stuff. You hype Wonwoo up and Wonwoo keeps you in check, you know? Plus, you look good together. Your faces and stuff.”
“I guess...?” Soonyoung had never thought about that until then—Wonwoo was his best friend, wasn’t he? Like Junhui and Mingyu, but more important, since he’s not nearly as annoying.
“I’m totally right—I’m not always an idiot, you know.”
Mid fall, 2 years ago;
Mingyu is not always an idiot, but he usually is. Soonyoung and Wonwoo would never admit that Mingyu’s comment that day is what kick-started their mutual questioning of their relationship, whether they were friends or more, and it all seemed right when they’d started dating in the spring. Soonyoung would sneak kisses after they finished work, pepper Wonwoo’s face with them when they spent time together in their own rooms.
That was fine and all, until school started. They agreed to be more careful and try to cover it up the best they could, but things seemed to change drastically the day Junhui commented that “it looked like you kissed Wonwoo when you both squatted down by the Kokkos this morning, Soonyoung.” He did kiss Wonwoo. Junhui wasn’t sure of what he saw, and he needed to keep it that way. Not just to Junhui, but to everyone.
So that was the beginning of their habit of making rude, offhand comments about each other. It was only while other people were around, and while it was funny sometimes, it was new, and Wonwoo sometimes sees a tinge of sadness in Soonyoung’s eyes when he pokes fun at him. He hopes Soonyoung doesn’t see the same in him, but he clearly must’ve—he leads Wonwoo down the long way home one day after school, clearing his throat with purpose.
“So, like, I don’t mean anything bad that I say about you, but do you mean any of the stuff you say about me?” His voice isn’t sad, more peeved if anything. Wonwoo gulps. It’s really hard to fight with Soonyoung, truly exhausting, since he’s usually the peacemaker. Wonwoo has to choose his words carefully.
“No, of course I don’t.” He says earnestly, kicking a pebble in the dirt path. He wants badly to hold Soonyoung’s hand, to reassure him, but affectionate gestures won’t do them any good at the given moment. People could see. They’re much too far for anyone to hear them, though, so they’re safe in that aspect.
Soonyoung laughs bitterly. “Is it bad that I don’t believe you?”
Wonwoo knows Soonyoung was the one to start being so secretive, but he honestly doesn’t hold it against him—does Soonyoung think he does?
“Soon-ah, trust me, I don’t like to pretend I don’t like you—”
“Then don’t pretend.” Soonyoung murmurs, eyes locked on his shoes as they kick up dust from the ground.
Soonyoung is much more insecure than he lets on, then. Wonwoo is smart. He can figure that out, but there are still some things he can’t quite understand, like how Soonyoung feels so much, so often—it’s to the point that he’s nervous when he truly cherishes something, keeping his more trivial feelings to himself. It’s so strange that he can withhold so much while simultaneously not withholding anything at all. He’s so fragile, so loving, and so unbearably inconsistent.
“Soon-ah,” Wonwoo sighs, holding his pinky inconspicuously, “we both know it’s not that simple.”
Whatever anger Soonyoung harbored then seemed to melt away, and his face softened, but retained a bit of sadness. Keeping secrets is always inevitable, unfortunately, and though Soonyoung is stubborn, he can understand that.
“I love you.” Soonyoung blurts, his ears going bright red. That’s one thing that he withholds—it’s the first time Wonwoo’s heard it out of his mouth. He can’t even recall him saying it to his parents.
Wonwoo holds his hand briefly, as if by instinct, squeezing it tightly before letting it fall to his side. “I love you, too. Don’t worry so much.”
Mid fall;
“Don’t worry so much.” Mingyu tells Soonyoung over the phone, sounds of a train audible in the background. “I talked to Wonwoo, too, you know. All the old people like you two, I can guarantee they’ll be supportive—they didn’t care too much when Junhui told them about Jihoon, right?”
“Yeah, but Junhui was also obvious.”
(So, so obvious—all summer, he’d come down from his room literally clinging to Jihoon, arms wrapped around his waist and bent over as Jihoon trudged down the stairs for his morning coffee, pressing his lips onto his neck. When Junhui’s parents took them to the train station on the day Jihoon was leaving, Junhui kissed him goodbye. Jihoon definitely hit him, but Junhui’s parents weren’t too shocked. How could they be?)
Mingyu, besides coming home to help on the farm in the Summer, also comes for Chuseok in the fall—all the farmers in the area gather at Mingyu’s grandparent’s house to eat, and now that the work is done on their originally big, lofty entertaining room, there’s a lot more space and a lot more to look forward to, like Mingyu being able to stay in his own room this time instead of Wonwoo’s. Thank God.
There’s also a lot more to dread, though, since Wonwoo and Soonyoung agreed it was a good time to let their parents and their aunts and uncles know about them. Soonyoung bites the nail of his thumb, whining into the phone pathetically. Mingyu probably rolls his eyes on the other end.
“Look, my stop’s coming up, so I’ll see you soon, alright? Bye-bye.”
The best way to do this, to come clean, was one by one. Soonyoung’s hanbok has never been as uncomfortable as it was in the seconds before he told his parents about Wonwoo—the sweat makes it stick to his back, and suddenly it feels tight, constrictive.
Wonwoo places a reassuring hand on Soonyoung’s shoulder, a welcome weight, one that grounds him enough let their long kept secret fall apart as it falls from his lips.
Early winter;
Junhui’s going back to the city because he was offered a part in a drama—Jihoon will deny that he had any part in that, but just for the sake of mentioning, he will have a part in composing the soundtrack. Junhui described Jihoon as a godsend, the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and while Wonwoo hasn’t conjured up a miracle like that for Soonyoung, he feels the same way.
“Do you think Jerry will be okay without me?” Junhui asks.
Soonyoung sighs. “Yes, Junhui. Jerry will be fine.”
“When we facetime, you have to put him on too, okay? Jihoonie will want to see him, too…”
His leg is bouncing incessantly, listening carefully for a monotone, ambiguous woman’s voice to announce that his train has arrived. Soonyoung is looking at Junhui, drained, while Wonwoo’s head is resting heavy on his shoulder. Junhui made Wonwoo help him pack all night, so he didn’t sleep—he tries to now, lids squeezing shut with a small yawn.
“Whatever you say, man. Just—”
“Fuck, fuck, the train’s here, fuck—” Junhui blurts, gathering his luggage haphazardly. He’s off in the blink of an eye, calling a short “see you!” in Soonyoung and Wonwoo’s direction. Soonyoung watches the train door shut behind him and briefly wonders if anyone would ever see him in that position, leaving his lot of unfittingly named chickens, his bitch of a barn cat, Wonwoo the goat. The only thing he knows he wouldn’t leave is Jeon Wonwoo, who is most certainly not a goat, but his human, bipedal boyfriend. His parent’s future son-in-law. His kindergarten sweetheart.
Soonyoung didn’t know Wonwoo could sleep while sitting up, but that seems to be what he’s doing. He wonders if Wonwoo’s having one of those half-asleep kind of dreams, hearing the sounds of the trains departing and thinking about what it would be like to do what Junhui’s doing. Maybe he has the same image Soonyoung has in his head, their fingers entangled while the fields out the window behind them slowly turn into buildings that become bigger and bigger until they look like they sway with the wind. There really is no rush, though; Wonwoo is just fine like this, even if he didn’t have time to shower after his morning routine and still smells like dirt. Soonyoung can fantasize all he wants about him seated in front of a big picture window, ten stories above the ground and nose buried in a romance novel he’ll deny enjoying—but at the end of the day, the image of him seated in front of a rotting fence, Me Before You pecking insistently at his feet, is equally as pleasing.
Soonyoung feels a wetness seep through the sleeve of his shirt. It could very well be Wonwoo crying, either from Junhui’s departure or eyes watering in his sleep, but the gigantic yawn he unleashes after tells Soonyoung that it’s probably drool.
He shrugs Wonwoo off his shoulder, patting his knee a few times to wake him up. “Nonu-yah, your mom would be mad at me if I let you sleep on me at the train station. I was supposed to be over for dinner, remember?”
Wonwoo stretches with a groan. “Let her be mad. I feel like I’m dying.”
“I’m sorry, babe. I’ll yell at Junhui later for you.”
Wonwoo smiles and nods, standing to turn and begin the walk home. Soonyoung follows closely behind.
The sun is plunging in the sky, making Soonyoung squint until his eyes are almost entirely closed. Wonwoo’s footsteps are steady, mirroring Soonyoung’s, and with each step they take, the sound is mixed with a chorus of tractors running and cows mooing. Down the road, Soonyoung can make out his mother on the Jeon family’s porch—she’s handing off a pallet of eggs to Wonwoo’s mother. She looks off into the distance and spots them on their way home, pointing and waving enthusiastically. Wonwoo laughs gently, then, while Soonyoung gives a shy wave back.
“What?”
“It’s just funny how things work out, huh?” Wonwoo says quietly. Soonyoung has an idea of what he means, but there’s a lot of weight to a remark like that, so he can’t be sure. He leaves it that way, wrapping his arm around Wonwoo’s waist and pulling him to his side.
“Yeah. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, I guess.”