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it’s around seven in the evening when chan finishes his shift at attacca, a clothing store nestled in the small mall near his university.
his eyes droop as he drags himself out of the mall, ignoring the weird stares he receives from the customers on the way. all he really does is deal with customers and restock the clothing, but he is exhausted, and it doesn’t help that his arms hurt from yesterday’s dance practice either.
it’s friday today, a day for drinking and staying up late watching the whole twilight series, but chan can’t because his body physically won’t let him. he desperately wants to scarf down oily chinese food and pass out until monday because somehow that’s the only thing his body will let him do.
at the entrance of the attacca is junhui, his gorgeous boyfriend of two years, standing in all his glory for the whole mall to take in. junhui’s head is down, eyes on his phone and most likely watching cat videos on instagram. he’s wearing a black cap, dark skinny jeans that are clinging deliciously to his long legs, and a half-red, half-black hoodie vertically separated through the middle. he looks like the typical campus crush that has people falling to their knees, and it makes chan think about how lucky he is.
to junhui’s side are college freshmen girls, nervously standing around like they’re about to ask for his number. chan, in his nutrient-deprived state, scoffs and walks right up to junhui with a confident stride, not letting them have a chance to speak to him.
on another day, chan might have watched from the side to see what junhui would do (he watched enough of john quiñones’ what would you do to be an expert on watching from the side), but he so desperately wants to be in his boyfriend’s arms right now that his feet move quicker than the speed of light.
junhui notices chan immediately and opens his arms wide for an embrace. chan giggles as he lets himself drown in the bagginess of junhui’s hoodie. he hears junhui whisper something about missing him into his hair, and chan runs his fingernails down his back. “junjun,” he sings cutely, liting his head to meet the elder’s eyes, which light up like fireworks at the sight of chan. “let’s get out of here.”
junhui nods and leans down to lovingly kiss chan right on the cheek. on their way out, chan sends a smug smile to the girls as junhui takes his hand like he won some sort of game, maybe something like the bachelor. they flush and turn away, leaving chan victorious. fuck being tired, chan thinks, now he’s feeling powerful.
“was that really necessary?” junhui asks as he leads chan to the car. “you should have left those poor girls alone.”
“what—oh, that? of course it was necessary!” leave it to junhui to see through him like a piece of glass. “i like to call it survival of the fittest.”
“i like to call it bullying.”
“yeah, right! you were playing along, too!”
junhui laughs and opens the car door for him like the gentleman he is, bowing dramatically like it was an honor to open the door for chan. chivalry thrives inside of junhui, and while junhui rarely mentions anything about his childhood, chan thinks he was probably raised that way. the first time junhui did this was on their second date and it made chan blush profusely, but now it’s an inside joke between them two years later and chan admits it’s kinda funny now.
junhui turns around and backs out of the parking spot, putting his arm behind chan’s headrest as he does so (not because he needs to, but because chan thinks it’s hot. and it, of course, is). chan asks how junhui’s residency at the hospital is going so far, considering he just started it, and junhui blabbers all about his day, talking endlessly about his new patients (without breaking hippa) and how cool it was to finally feel like a doctor.
pride pits at the bottom of chan’s stomach. junhui was always known for his complete infatuation with medicine and the vast research he’s done with it. seeing him now after his first day of residency makes his heart swell with pride and happiness for him. junhui may come from a family of doctors and has been expected to become a doctor from birth, but he’s glad that junhui actually enjoys what he does and is passionate about it.
chan gets asked about his day too, but all he talks about is what he ate for lunch because his days are pretty boring compared to junhui’s. the most he can talk about is the unbearable customers, too, but he leaves it out. why would he bring down the mood when junhui’s already beaming from ear to ear? he’s about to ask junhui what they’re going to do for dinner before junhui taps his thigh vehemently.
“ah, bǎobèi, sorry. i got busy and kinda forgot to tell you this…” chan looks at him curiously. usually chan wouldn’t mind if junhui got too busy to mention something, but junhui looks a little worried now, an unsure expression on his face. uneasiness settles at the bottom of his abdomen. “my family has this bi-yearly reunion thing—it’s kinda like a tradition—and...well, my whole family wants to meet you. and, um, my mom is included.”
fuck feeling powerful, chan thinks, he feels exhausted all over again.
he groans, throwing his head back against the headrest. full offense, but he would rather jump off a bridge than meet junhui’s mother. his mother has shown complete distaste for chan ever since he and junhui started dating. he met her once over the phone and her tone and attitude towards him was so off-putting that he really thought she hated him.
in that same phone call, she told junhui that chan was sucking the family’s money from them and was only with junhui because he was handsome. when junhui told him that, chan had to laugh because she hadn’t even met him once! who does she think she is!!
“why?” he whines, petulantly smacking junhui’s innocent arm. “she hates me!”
"no, she doesn’t…” junhui starts, reaching over to grab chan’s thigh and rub his thumb against it soothingly. it doesn’t really help. “she just doesn’t understand.”
“she literally hates me,” chan replies, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “and she still sends you pictures of girls that you should marry!”
“and i ignore them!”
“but she still does it! she obviously doesn’t want me to be part of your family.”
junhui’s shoulders sag sadly. “hey, don’t say that. here, how about this? we can just drop by quickly and say hello. it won’t be that bad,” junhui coaxes, releasing chan’s thigh and reaching for his hand instead. chan grabs his hand and pretends to bite him out of revenge, but junhui just laughs in his face. “c’mon, bǎobǎo. it’ll be over before you know it.”
“when is it?” chan kicks his feet up onto the dashboard and slumps into his seat like a hormonal teenager. junhui clicks his tongue out of disapproval, but relents and lets him leave them there for now.
“sunday,” he answers.
chan makes a disgruntled noise, but he catches junhui’s frown in the rearview mirror and it makes chan feel like the worst boyfriend in the world. he sits up and throws his head back onto the headrest in defeat. “fine! i’ll go. but only for a little bit, okay? they better have fancy shit there. like escargot.”
“that’s my baby,” junhui coos, rubbing the back of his index finger against chan’s cheek adoringly. chan grumbles and pushes his hand away. “now, you wanna get some chinese food and take it back home?” there goes junhui again, seeing right through him. chan smiles.
“and ice cream,” he adds. junhui raises an eyebrow, about to mention the diet chan said he was on. chan looks away shamelessly. “i need it to prepare myself for sunday.”
junhui laughs loudly and squeezes chan’s hand. “sure, baby,” he says, pulling smoothly into the parking lot of their favorite chinese restaurant.
two days, chan thinks, is proving to be not enough time to mentally prepare. it’s saturday night and normally junhui and chan would be all over each other, but chan physically cannot look at junhui without cringing or having a breakdown.
chan is currently sitting on the couch, laptop on his lap trying to research ways on how to impress a rich asian mother. he even rewatched crazy rich asians three times just to see how rachel girlbosses her way through the trenches of rich society. chan, who is just a middle class citizen who lived with his mom until he was eighteen, has no idea how to appear at least somewhat appealing to junhui’s mother and it’s been driving him crazy the whole day. he’s too busy thinking about potential ways to fake his death that he barely hears junhui sneaking next to him and sliding next to him on the couch.
“excuse me,” junhui sings, putting his hand on the back of chan’s neck and pulling him closer. their lips are about to touch before chan shoves him and turns his face away.
“argh, don’t touch me. if you touch me too much, your mom is gonna think i’m some sort of slut,” he groans, scooting away.
junhui, baffled, sits there and stares. “i’m sorry, what?”
“like, i have separation anxiety from you and then you feel bad and give me money,” he explains as if explaining could possibly make it make sense. and it doesn’t make sense. junhui continues to stare at him, speechless. chan sighs. “if you touch me too much now, you’re gonna touch me too much tomorrow. and then your mom is gonna think ‘woah, that korean seduced my—“
‘“that korean,’” junhui parrots between incessant laughs.
“stop.” chan drawls, slapping his boyfriend’s thigh, “‘that korean seduced my son for money.’ that is what she’s gonna think.”
junhui shakes his head and leans his head against the couch cushions. “no, she’s gonna think: ‘wow, chan must be so irresistible that my son can’t keep his hands off! i must have him as a son-in-law!’ and then she’ll kiss your feet.”
“okay, can we be realistic?” he slams his laptop closed and turns to face junhui head on. he doesn’t mean to come off so rude but it’s junhui’s mother and no matter how much they might hate each other, he still wants to make a good impression. and when that fails (when, not if, because it will), at least he’ll make a good impression on the rest of the family.
hopefully.
his boyfriend chuckles and props his feet onto the coffee table. “right, because your rendition was so realistic i almost thought my mom was in the room.”
chan watches as junhui leans over and grabs the tv remote from the cabinet to the side of the couch. “i’m preparing for the worst,” he refutes, eyes on junhui’s side profile as he flips through netflix. “or maybe her thinking that i’m a whore is actually the best case scenario.”
“best case scenario, actually, is that she leaves you alone the whole night,” junhui replies. searching through the horror genre for anything new.
chan frowns and sets his laptop on the coffee table next to junhui’s feet. “so you think that she’s going to hate me even more and ignore me.”
“i think,” junhui whispers, his eyes hooded as he turns to chan, “that you’re thinking too much.” he connects their lips with a hum, satisfied that chan actually let him do it that time. chan stares back when he pulls away, maybe too lost in thought like junhui knew he would be, and junhui takes it as an invitation to kiss him again. when he pulls away, he puts both of his hands on the back of chan’s neck, pulling him so close that their heads bump.
“jagi,” chan whispers against junhui’s lips, “if she tries to kill me, you’ll defend me, right?”
junhui chuckles and closes his eyes. “in a heartbeat,” he answers confidently before slowly laying chan down onto the couch and kissing him feverently.
“—yung! jun!”
junhui startles awake and his hands immediately come up to cover his eyes from the harsh sunlight coming in from the open windows. he hears chan shuffle around the room, throwing their closet and drawers open with so much force that it shakes the whole room.
he lifts himself by his elbows off of the bed and tries to follow the sound of chan moving around. “bǎobǎo, what’s wrong? why are you screaming?” he inquires drowsily, his voice deep from sleep. he drops his hands to see chan, covered in nothing but a white bath towel hanging loosely around his hips, staring back at him. the elder’s eyes travel down his body shamelessly, and he does a double take at how his wet hair drips droplets of water onto his shoulders. junhui smirks. “why, hello there.”
chan rolls his eyes and throws his dirty shirt right at his face. junhui laughs and pretends to be shot by it, falling back onto the bed dramatically. “oh, stop it. i’m mad at you.” he shuffles some more with the drawers in front of him in search of something.
“and why is my beautiful, gorgeous, and breathtaking boyfriend mad at me?” junhui asks, rising to his feet with the shirt in his hand.
in the drawers he finds a nice, ironed dress shirt and stares at it, wondering if its too formal for a luncheon. he feels sturdy arms wrap around his waist as he shoves the shirt back into the drawer with a huff. “you didn’t even tell me where or what time we’re meeting your family, what i should wear, or whether or not we should bring a gift!” chan struggles in junhui’s grasp before elbowing him lightly in the abdomen. “i need to know these things!”
junhui laughs and leans down, placing a chaste kiss on his boyfriend’s nape. “eleven. my house in seoul. dress casually. and don’t sweat the gift, your presence is enough.” chan wants to turn around and smack junhui, but he lets junhui kiss his cheek and run to the bathroom instead.
as junhui hums his pretty little chinese songs in the shower, chan dries himself off and dresses himself in something casual: a simple white shirt, a baby blue cardigan, and faded blue jeans.
he throws his hand against the back of his neck like an old person would, complaining that this lunch date with junhui’s family is spiking his blood pressure through the roof.
it’s only eight in the morning and he’s already losing his mind. at this rate, he might die before lunch time. he stares holes into his outfit some more, hoping to god that dressing casually to junhui’s family is actually casual and not wear-your-least-expensive-gucci-shoes kind of casual.
chan throws together another outfit in case their sense of casual turns out to be the latter. on their bed are black slacks, a black turtleneck, and his favorite silver necklace laid out in a nice, clean order. he sighs and stands akimbo in front of it.
it looks like he’s about to attend a funeral, and at this point he might as well be: his own.
junhui comes out of the bathroom whistling before a wide smile breaks out on his face. “you look good, baby!” he takes a clean towel from one of the drawers to dry off his hair. “blue’s your color. and yellow. and every other color.”
“this outfit or the one on the bed?” chan asks over him. he doesn't mean to ignore junhui’s compliments, but he’s about one inch away from falling into his own grave and a second away from running into the street. junhui’s eyes flit between the two choices.
“um,” he starts, loosening the towel around his waist to dry his legs off. “do you want to look like you're about to frolic in daises or like dwayne the rock johnson on his way to the morgue?”
“well, i’d like to look—wait, what?“ he cocks his head to the left. “what does the rock have to do with this?”
junhui glances at him sparingly as he shoves his long legs into some dark jeans. “y’know, that picture of him when he was younger .”
“no?”
“ah, nevermind.”
chan narrows his eyes before deciding i do not care anymore and gesturing to the clothes on his body. “okay, this outfit then?” junhui nods with a smile, throwing on a navy turtleneck and a loose dress shirt over it. chan follows as he bounds towards the dresser, fumbling with his precious rings to find the best fitting one. junhui looks expensive, even more so than usual as he adorns his fingers with rings and his wrist with an expensive watch. chan gestures weakly at his boyfriend’s outfit, exasperated. “i thought you said to dress casual.”
the elder looks at him questioningly. “this is casual,” he replies, slipping the promise ring that chan gave to him last year back on.
chan scoffs and crosses his arms across his chest. “if that’s casual i might as well look like a hobo right now.”
“hey, hey,” junhui speaks softly, reaching over to cup chan’s cheek with his hand. his hand is soft and warm and it reminds chan of his baby blue blanket that he would carry around as a toddler. he nudges himself closer. “what’s got you worked up?” concern is evident in junhui’s voice, and, like always, chan is grateful for him in every way possible.
chan sighs as junhui brushes some of his dark red hair out of his eyes. “i dunno, i just don’t want to stand out and look dumb in front of everyone because of what i’m wearing. it also doesn’t help that your mom hates me.”
“she doesn’t hate you. and don’t worry,” junhui sings. chan relaxes into his hand with a smile; junhui always knows the right words to say. “you’ll always look dumb in front of everyone—i’m joking!”
well. nevermind.
chan’s face falls and he punches him in the chest for ruining the moment. “you’re so mean,” he grumbles. “your mom already wants me dead. i don’t want to get hated by anyone else.”
“relax, shǎguā, they won’t hate you!” he pauses and blinks. “i think.”
“hyung.”
“that was a joke, too!” he ruffles chan’s hair with a laugh. “look, it doesn’t matter if they hate you, right? it should only matter that i love you and that i will always want you.”
chan grabs a comb and runs it through his hair with a huff. “yeah, okay.”
“it’s alright, baby, i’ve got your back,” he watches jun kiss his cheek through the mirror, “and it’ll go better than you think.”
chan really hopes that’s the case.
it’s not the case. he already wants to die and he’s not even inside of the house yet.
because when junhui mentioned “my house in seoul” about an hour ago, he assumed it was a house not a whole entire mansion with three balconies and a fifteen minute walk to the front door.
he’s definitely exaggerating, but from the perspective of an iksan boy who grew up in a tiny town house, this mansion is huge.
“hyung!” chan exclaims as junhui opens the car door for him. “what the hell is this?”
junhui looks at him quizzically. “my house?” he replies, because obviously it’s super-rich junhui’s five star mansion.
and while he knew junhui was rich, he didn’t think it was richer than god kind of rich. “this,” he starts, taking in the whole scene as he steps out of the car. it’s a three story mansion with bright lights strung around the garden, illuminating the pathway to the front door. it’s an extravagant take on rising modernity, built with bricks covered in render and grey brick decorations. tall but skinny windows add to the overall style of the house and have been added to the house in a delicate, symmetrical pattern. chan only saw these kinds of places in the backgrounds of a karaoke video, but this is real! “this is a palace.”
“huh. that’s one way to describe it, i guess,” junhui replies, and that’s all he says.
they walk hand in hand to the front door (because junhui insisted) and are greeted by a tall chinese man when they ring the doorbell. “welcome home, young master,” the man says in chinese, and chan’s kind of proud of himself for knowing that. the years he spent studying chinese when he was younger felt like preparation for this moment. “oh!” the man looks at chan, startled. “hello and welcome!”
the last part is said in perfect korean and chan’s eyebrows raise. he shouldn’t be surprised, especially since they’re in the korean capital, but he didn’t expect it from junhui’s chinese household. “hi, thank you,” he replies, smiling. the man bows politely and chan does the same.
junhui steps in, dragging chan inside with him by the hand. “guǎnjiā bolin, where’s mother?”
guǎnjiā. butler. chan should have known. curse these rich bastards. “right inside talking with your aunt, young master.”
“aunt yú yàn?” the butler nods with a small grin. junhui pumps his fist in the air excitedly like a child. “yes! channie, let’s go.” he tries to drag chan to the left and into the open room beyond the hallway, but chan fumbles and almost trips over his own feet.
“wait a sec, i didn’t even take off my shoes yet,” he hisses, trying not to be so loud. he feels like he’s walking on broken glass or he’s a spy trying to avoid the red lasers in some overrated action movie. in a place like this, he feels like any noise or sudden movement will sound an alarm and the police will be here in less than two minutes.
“oh, no need to take off your shoes,” the butler, bolin, assures, patting him on the shoulder. “make yourself comfortable.”
no need? no need!? he looks lost, mostly because his mother would skin him and feed him to the chickens if she found him wearing shoes in the house. junhui looks at him curiously and chan’s face flushes. “oh. okay, sorry.” he already feels horrible and embarrassed, and it doesn’t help that junhui drags him into the living room with no time to recover, and he’s met with several chinese people staring right at them.
they don’t spare him a glance, not even the children playing by the television, but instead all welcome junhui with wide smiles: “it’s junhui!” “hi, junhui!” “how are you junhui?” and not a single person addresses him. he sighs internally.
“junhui! how have you been?” a man, who seems to be junhui’s cousin, asks in chinese as he comes up to them, and chan doesn't know if its to make him feel excluded or if they just don’t know korean, so he keeps quiet.
“i’ve been fine,” junhui replies in korean, and chan understands now. so the whole family is against him. he sends a look to junhui, who just shakes his head and puts a protective arm around his shoulders.
an older woman comes closer, maybe an older cousin or aunt, and pats chan shoulder. he feels somewhat comfortable and at ease. “oh, junhui, is this your friend?” the language is korean now, and chan’s glad.
“nope, this is my darling boyfriend,” junhui replies happily. a woman, presumably junhui’s mother (the resemblance is uncanny), makes a face from the home bar on the side.
the woman in front of them gasps, not a homophobic gasp, but an i didn’t know you were dating someone gasp. chan keeps in a sigh of relief. “your boyfriend!? how long have you been together?”
“we’ve been together for about two and a half years.” two years, five months, to be specific. chan thinks but keeps his mouth shut in a straight line.
“and you didn’t tell me!” judging by their close relationship, this must be aunt yú yàn, junhui’s beloved relative who lived in paris for half of his life. he remembers her being his mother’s youngest sister by almost ten years. makes sense.
junhui laughs. “well, you were off the radar for a while. where were you?”
aunt yú yàn thinks, eyes glancing off to the side as a long fingernail taps against her bottom lip. “mexico...the netherlands, and i think i stopped by china for half a year. i don’t remember,” she turns to chan. “make yourself at home...” she trails off, a name missing from her welcome invitation.
“chan,” he answers confidently, filling in her blank.
“chan! what a nice name.” he thanks her and starts to bow, but she stops him halfway. “oh, no need. you can be comfortable around me. i’m zhao yú yàn, call me auntie.”
chan beams because hell yeah! someone is on his side! “thank you, auntie,” he replies and keeps himself from bowing a second time.
she gives both of them a friendly nod and heads towards another group of cousins to greet them as well. chan gives his boyfriend a wide-eyed glance that says “woah, she’s cool” and junhui nods slowly with a big grin on his face with a look that says “heh, i know right.”
unfortunately for chan, junhui is a huge mama’s boy and adores his mother as much as she adores him, so the next guest to greet is, of course, his mother. chan takes a deep breath as junhui takes him by the hand again and leads him towards the home bar. from the right stands an array of the finest wine, nestled nicely in little individual cabinets. then is it really a bar? it’s more like a tiny winery, y’know, in the walls of junhui’s house. because why wouldn’t it be there.
junhui’s mother pretends not to see them mostly because she has dignity and no humility so people need to come to her first. with her shall wrapped loosely around her shoulders, his mother continues to gaze outside through the large window, sipping on her 1942 bacardi white rum. it’s narcissistic, but chan thinks it’s actually kind of girlboss, so he lets it go.
his mother looks dignified and clean, as all asian mothers are, but there is an air of superiority surrounding her. in fact, it’s a bit asphyxiating. or maybe that’s just his anxiety getting to him. her hair is tied in a tight bun and sits high on her scalp, not a hair out of place. she adorns a black, sleek dress with the white shall pooling at her elbows. just from looking at her, chan knows he shouldn’t be on her bad side.
too bad he already is.
“māmā,” junhui sings, tapping on her shoulder. junhui sounds really excited, as he should. chan’s not sure if it’s because he’s introducing his long-term boyfriend to his mother or just the fact that he’s meeting his mother in the first place. or maybe it’s both, and chan can’t blame him. it must have been three years since he’s seen his mother, especially since he went to college in massachusetts. harvard. yeah, he’s smart, chan knows.
mrs. wen turns around quite dramatically as if she had no idea he would show up. a smile appears on her face and it’s so identical to her son’s that chan muses further about how she really did give all of her genes to her son. she’s pretty with the same moles in almost identical places. it makes it hard to hate her when she looks so much like his hot boyfriend. it makes him sigh internally again.
“jun!” she exclaims and wraps her long arms around him in a tight embrace. “oh, my darling boy, how have you been?” her chinese is definitely refined as if she’s been rich all of her life so even the little things such as language should come the same way.
“great, māmā,” he replies and lets her give him a big kiss on his cheek. he pulls away from her grasp, a smile still on his face. he gestures to the man on his right and her eyes follow. “māmā, this is chan, my boyfriend. remember?” although chan can understand the bare essentials of chinese, he’s glad that junhui makes an effort to change it to korean whenever chan’s involved. he squeezes junhui’s hand to thank him.
chan bows sincerely. as much as he dislikes this woman he still wants to marry junhui (...hopefully) so he has to put up with her a little bit. might as well get used to it now. “nín hǎo!” he greets happily (as happily as he physically can. again, he knows she hates his guts!).
“ah, your friend. welcome.” she barely spares him a glance before returning to junhui and beaming, ready to ask another question.
junhui shakes his head. “no, he’s my boyfriend.” her smile falls and silence ensues. “i can prove it if you want—”
“no. no.” she emphasizes, panic in her tone. chan thinks it’s kind of funny. mrs. wen turns to chan with a (fake) smile and puts a hand on his shoulder. “hello, chan. nice to meet you. i hope you enjoy today’s luncheon with junhui’s lovely family.”
“xiè xiè nín,” he manages to squeak out before she’s already calling people to gather outside for the luncheon where the long table is already set up. junhui starts to lead chan by the hand outside, but he stops and tugs junhui backwards. “did you see that? she ignored me and she tried to reduce me to a friend.”
“yeah,” he says, nodding slowly. “i know. i’m sorry. maybe she’ll come around while we eat?” chan’s jaw drops slightly in awe because if she didn’t come around in the year since they last “met” then how was she supposed to come around in the span of an hour or two?
he lets junhui lead him outside and he’d be lying if he said the area wasn’t gorgeous. in the middle of the large garden in the backyard of the vast mansion sat a long table with seats for every member of the family. inside the garden was a large lake with swans and a porcelain statue of a woman praying in the middle, water pouring from her eyes and back into the lake with every tear. okay. where the hell do you just find swans and why are they in the lake behind junhui’s house??
junhui leads him near the rightest most side of the table, near the head, and he cautiously takes a seat. on the table are different flowers for every seat (his is a lilly) and napkins that also look like swans on the top of a gold encrusted plate. just breathing the air of this place makes him feel fancy.
servants come out of the mansion and place the food in front of all attendees. even the children, who were rough-housing before, are sitting calmly and stay clear of their food. in fact, everyone is keeping their hands away from the food and swan napkins. christ, chan thinks, rich people are weird.
the seat at the head of the table is still empty but the plate and accessories still remain. he raises an eyebrow and nudges junhui. “who sits there?” he asks amidst the chatter of the family members.
junhui’s eyes follow his line of sight and he crosses his arms. “ah,” he chuckles, “my dad.”
“uh...where’s your dad…” chan asks worriedly, afraid he’s stepping on thin ice because he knows a thing or two about missing fathers and junhui doesn’t talk about him much.
junhui gestures his head to the side. “right behind you.”
chan jerks up and turns around faster than the speed of light just to see no one behind him. “ugh!” he exclaims and keeps himself from completely obliterating junhui on the spot. junhui starts laughing uncontrollably, holding his stomach. “i knew it. you tricked me.”
“bàba’s in thailand, babe. work.”
“then who sits there? why aren’t we eating?”
before junhui can answer, everyone starts to stand, junhui included. chan turns to see mrs. wen in a new gown. a grey one that has gold freckles and stars that adorn the bottom. objectively, it’s really pretty and it suits her very well. she holds up a hand and everyone takes their seats. chan fumbles back down and junhui grabs his hand to calm his nerves. his mother makes her way to the seat at the head of the table and raises her glass of red wine.
chan assumes that because junhui’s father is gone, his mother is the man of the house.
oh god.
“thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to come to our luncheon. i hope you all enjoy yourselves today.” everyone toasts and begins eating while chan is left stunned. mrs. wen takes her seat as a servant pushes her chair in for her and she begins her meal.
while chan sits there like a bug-eyed idiot, junhui starts picking stuff off of his plate and placing it on his own. “what are you doing, xīngān bǎobèi?” his mother asks curiously with a bite to her connotation.
“channie doesn’t like cucumbers,” he replies simply, picking out the cucumbers out of the salad like it’s second nature.
christ almighty. chan thinks and attempts to make eye contact with his mother like a chump and he startles because she’s already staring at him. he lets out an awkward laugh and taps junhui. “no, i...i like cucumbers, it’s fine.” he tries to stop junhui because what if she’s the kind of person who can’t stand picky eaters? now he’s double, no, triple hated.
“you hate cucumbers.”
“no, i don’t.”
“but you took them out of your kimbap yesterday morning.”
he continues to feel mrs. wen’s stare crawl on his skin and shit, junhui’s just making this worse because now she thinks he’s some sort of poor little bastard who can only eat kimbap, cry, and lie. and speaking of cry, he might just do that right now. “i love all kinds of food,” he refutes, as if it would make anything better.
junhui gives him a weird look before laughing brightly. “right, okay, here. eat up cucumber man,” he says, returning all the cucumbers back onto chan’s plate with a confused glance.
now chan wants to die because now he’s cucumber man and what could be any more embarrassing than being known as cucumber man in front of junhui’s whole family. he reaches under the table and pinches junhui’s thigh in a way that spells jun. hui. stop. talk. ing. junhui slaps his hand away.
he wants to die even more because he really hates cucumbers and now he has to eat them to prove to his mother that he loves cucumbers and—
“if you don’t like cucumbers, no need to eat them,” mrs. wen interjects before promptly taking a bite of her salad. to the side, auntie yú yàn chuckles and eats her salad as well, cucumbers and all. to his dismay, even junhui laughs and now he’s ready to set up his own appointment for the morgue because he will be a dead body in about an hour.
the real meal is served after the appetizer: a medium rare steak with A class potatoes from the best farms in the world and more grilled vegetables on the side. it’s perfectly seasoned, juicy, and seared brown on the outside. just the way he likes it. too bad that he’s going to barf if he so much as bites into it.
“so where do you come from, chan?” one of junhui’s uncles from his father’s side asks from farther down the table, breaking him from his inner turmoil.
“iksan, sir,” he answers nervously.
a woman nearby gasps, most likely one of junhui’s cousins. she’s sporting an expensive, purple silk slip-on dress with gold and diamonds hanging from her neck and ears. her aura screams perfection with an incessant lack of subtly. “oh, the city of jewelry!” she lets out a laugh, but it comes off like a scoff. “i went to the museum of jewelry years ago expecting to buy some fine jewels for my collection. turns out there’s just a bunch of old stuff lying around in there!”
other girls around her began to giggle, including two identical twin girls who are wearing back and white dresses and even blink in sync.
while chan doesn’t know much about the museums from iksan nor does he care to visit, he doesn’t appreciate the scorn coupled with their response about his hometown. “i’ve never been,” he says quite dryly because conversation comes hard with rich people who have already experienced everything in the world. that and he spends more time in junhui’s apartment more than in iksan.
“save your money and don’t go, love. go to china if you want to experience real history,” she replies, giving chan a smile. the girls continue to giggle. a bit upset, chan looks away. as almost everyone in korea is, chan is patriotic, and even if they are only insulting his hometown, the fact that they dared to compare it to china speaks volumes. they didn’t have to say it for him to understand that his origins makes him inferior here.
after the conversation dies down, a man in front of him clears his throat after taking a bite of his steak. “chan, what do your parents do?” he asks, cutting himself another piece. “they seem like doctors, am i right?”
“um,” he says before swallowing the lump in his throat. junhui holds his hand from under the table. “my mother’s actually a teacher and my father died when i was very young...so…i don’t remember much about him. so, uh, no, they’re not doctors.”
the man’s face distorts into a pitiful gaze. “oh, sorry about that, son.”
chan shakes his head and waves his hand. “no, it’s alright. don’t worry about it.”
it’s times like this where chan thinks his perfect hearing is a curse because he hears the older male cousins snicker about chan being a bastard with a poor background and even poorer parents. his cheeks turn red in humiliation, and while he expected this, he didn’t think it would reach to this extent. to his right, he feels junhui squirm uncomfortably, and he can tell that junhui heard what they’re saying about him too.
“and what do you do?” chan feels a shiver run down his spine at the voice. from the side a piercing stare slices right through him to the point where he feels frozen in his seat. mrs. wen is staring daggers right into him, and he doesn’t understand how this reunion has turned into an interrogation but he bites his lip and answers.
“i’m studying to become a professional dancer.”
“ballet?”
“um, more like modern or contemporary.”
mrs. wen makes a face of disgust and does so with such speed that chan almost misses it. “i see,” she replies without an ounce of interest in her tone. his polite smile falters. he knows that ballet is the most respected form of professional dance and people more than often mistake his passion for that instead, but hearing such distaste from junhui’s mother makes him feel horrible. something heavy starts to weigh in his stomach down but he ignores it as junhui tightens his grip on his hand.
“junhui!” a young girl at the end of the table exclaims, gaining everyone’s attention. chan feels extremely grateful to this unnamed girl; he doesn’t know if she read the room or just blurted out of curiosity, but he savors the time he has out of the spotlight even if it’s just for a few minutes. “how did you guys meet?”
junhui does the honors and explains their encounter at mcdonalds some years ago. chan has no energy to get embarrassed at the story, especially when he’s heard it and relived it so many times that he’s about numb to it.
the young girl coos at the end of his story. “so are you guys going to get married?”
both junhui and chan look at her and then slowly turn to look at each other, stunned. junhui’s uncle from his mother’s side clears his throat and leans forward, elbows on the table, “that’s right, have you been thinking of marriage lately?”
junhui smiles sheepishly as chan darts his eyes away and red creeps onto his cheeks. “well, about that—“
“isn’t it too early to talk about junhui’s marriage, zhàngfū?” his wife asks as she beckons a servant over to cut her steak for her. he appears quicker than the speed of light and cuts the steak with such precision that it makes chan wonder if he really is a machine made to cut steaks and take orders.
a bustling noise is heard to chan’s side. “it’s never too early!” mrs. wen interjects into their conversation, sitting up straight. chan looks at her but keeps his mouth shut. “junhui, we’ve been over this before. why don’t you get married to lihua? you met her in china, remember? her family runs hotels in europe.”
junhui sighs and attempts to brush it off by returning to his meal. “mā.”
“or jiang! she’s a bit older than you but she’s successful!” her tone sounds a bit exasperated.
“mā.” chan looks at him, almost trying to telepathically tell him that it’s alright but junhui ignores him out of frustration.
“either of them could be fine!”
junhui’s head jerks up to glare at her. “mā, that’s enough. stop.”
she ignores him and doesn’t even give him the chance to stop her. “at least one of them could bear your child! unlike this,” she gestures accusingly at chan, “...this boy!”
“mǔqīn!” junhui’s cutlery clatters against the plate as he tosses it down in agitation. all eyes are set on him after his sudden outburst and silence follows shortly. his mother gives him an icy glare for the noise. “mǔqīn, apologize to chan. that was unnecessary and rude.” her eyes fall to chan and she stares at him menacingly. inside of chan’s head, he screams cool! quadruple hated!
being right next to them as they fight was definitely not on today’s agenda, and while chan is always flexible when it comes to his schedule, this was not it. he sinks into his seat, takes a bite of his steak awkwardly, and thinks damn why is it so good.
she scoffs in his face like he’s not worthy of the apology. “i didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, did i?”
“that’s not the point, mǔqīn. you’re insulting channie for no reason. and not just you, it was everyone here!” she doesn’t say anything as she cuts herself a piece of steak. the rest of the family, except for aunt yú yàn, stare at junhui unapologetically as if chan deserved his treatment. junhui sends a glare to everyone at the table. “listen well because i am not going to repeat myself. if you offend channie, you’re offending me. he deserves an apology.”
and from that, the rest of the family would probably listen. he is the heir to the family fortune and has the power to change the inheritance at any moment. it would be most beneficial to them to keep their mouth shut, but the fact that they need that incentive to be decent human beings is sickening.
“honey, you know i don’t apologize to anyone. no one here does!” she says as condescendingly as possible. she shifts her gaze from junhui to chan, a smile appearing on her face. “especially when we’ve done and said nothing wrong.” a shiver runs down chan’s spine again. her words pierce him and then he understands: he’s not welcomed here unless he’s chinese, wealthy, and, most importantly, a woman. against his will, tears well in his eyes, clouding his sight.
this is just like crazy rich asians!! i thought they were exaggerating... he thinks as he focuses his eyes on his plate.
junhui stands to his feet and grabs chan by the hand, ready to drag him out of there. “wen junhui, sit down,” mrs. wen demands, her eyes not leaving her food. despite his better judgment, chan stands to his feet as well after realizing that he really can’t take their scornful gazes any longer.
“i’ll come back when you have an apology for chan,” he spits back, not sparing her a glance as he takes chan out of the garden, through the mansion, and right back to his car.
the car beeps at the sound of junhui unlocking it and before he knows it, they’re both in their seats. dazed, chan stares forward, thinking about the speed in which it took them to get to the car, and for that he’s grateful but somehow dizzy. over the console, junhui leans over to kiss chan right on the lips, hands on both of his cheeks like he’s afraid he’ll disappear from his grasp. chan kisses him back with the same energy as if he’s thanking him for taking him out of that situation. junhui doesn’t let him go for a good five minutes, chasing his lips continuously until his nerves calm down.
tears start falling down chan’s cheeks and he sobs into the crook between junhui’s neck and his shoulder. it’s a bit dramatic and it’s not like that junhui’s family bullied him to death, but the whole ordeal was mentally scarring—especially since chan could feel eyes on him with every breath that he took. his boyfriend smooths his hair, ruffling it just in the right places like his mother did when he was younger. it makes chan sob even harder.
“hey, bǎobèi…” junhui whispers against his cheek.
“yeah?” chan whispers back.
he leaves a kiss on his salty, tear-soaked cheek. “no matter what anyone says, i’ll always choose you. i don’t care if its my mom or fucking god. i’m not letting go.”
chan turns a crimson red, mostly because it’s unexpected, but it makes him feel warm at the thought that mama’s boy junhui would storm out at any time to protect chan over and over again. and chan’s not one to protect his dignity adamantly or even stand up for himself, so it’s nice to see that someone in his god forsaken world would go out of their way to do it for him.
before he can utter a reply, junhui turns the key and the engine starts revving. confused, chan raises an eyebrow and leans back into his seat. “where are we going?” he asks.
“i promised you escargot,” junhui starts to explain, hand on the stick shift and setting it to reverse. chan rolls his eyes and starts to laugh despite the wet tear trails on his cheeks. junhui turns to him, grinning as he straightens the wheels. “so i’m getting you escargot.”
“you don’t have to do that,” chan whispers because even if he laughs, yells, or complains, junhui is unpersuadable. especially when it comes to his boyfriend.
he reaches over the console again to wipe chan’s tears away. “you know i do,” he sings with a slight irk to his mouth like he’s keeping himself from laughing.
chan sniffles and chuckles for him, laughing at the unspoken words that spill from junhui's eyes.
and as junhui takes his hand in his own, a breath of fresh air refills his lungs.
after doing some recuperating and thinking about how humiliating the whole luncheon was, chan laughs after throwing himself backside down on their king sized bed. junhui’s standing near the walk-in closet, trying to find his set of their matching pajamas for their promised movie night.
junhui walks over, sporting his black pajamas with white accents to match chan’s white pajamas with black accents. on both of their pajamas is written dick and balls because what could be more matching than a pair of dick and balls? “what’re you laughing at?” he asks as if he’s afraid that chan’s laughing at him.
“nothing, i just did some thinking and i realized that i don’t care if your mom likes me or not. i mean, all i did was almost eat disgusting cucumbers and talked about my dead dad so when i think about it, she has no reason to hate me unless i did something wrong,” he glances at junhui, who throws himself on the bed next to him. “and at least you like me, right?”
junhui scoffs. “hell no, i am in love with you,” chan rolls his eyes, “head over heels. infatuated. over the moon in love, bro.”
with those last words, chan starts laughing again. “you can’t just end that with bro.”
“just did, bro,” the elder replies and scooches close enough that their hands brush. “and good for you! forget about my mom. she’s old and had plastic surgery, okay? she has nothing on you. and i’m marrying you no matter what she says.”
“what?”
“...what?”
“you just said…” junhui looks confused as he stares back at him, like he didn’t say anything at all. chan scoffs. “nevermind.”
junhui grabs the remote and starts browsing through netflix as he always does, looking for the next horror movie to watch. “uh huh.”
he turns on squid game, which is more of a thriller than horror, and silently chews on the sour patch kids that chan bought him yesterday after work. chan wants to focus on the show, but instead he keeps shifting his gaze from the ceiling and junhui, thinking as he bites his lip. his cheeks turn red before he even starts speaking his mind.
“hey, jagi,” chan calls, his face not moving even an inch as he keeps his gaze on the ceiling. he shuts his eyes in embarrassment.
unlike chan, junhui turns his head to face him and chan can feel his beaming smile. “hm?” he hums.
“you know that i would choose you, too, right?” he gathers the courage to turn his head to meet junhui’s deep brown eyes, two identical black holes that sucked chan in months before their encounter at mcdonalds and months before junhui even knew his name. silently, he watches as junhui’s irises expand like they’re taking in chan whole, and maybe they are. maybe he was always destined to be sucked into junhui’s eyes and drown in his inescapable gaze. and at that thought, chan smiles widely. “no matter what anyone else says.”
“yeah,” junhui whispers so quietly that chan almost misses it. and if you thought that junhui’s grin couldn’t get wider, you were wrong. “i do.”
chan nods slowly, his eyes on junhui’s red lips. “good,” he breathes slowly as junhui leans closer, his breath smelling like the sour watermelon flavor and he drinks it all in, every moment of it. “good.”