Work Text:
“the world begins at a kitchen table. no matter what, we must eat to live.
it is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. we make men at it, we make women.
this table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.
perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.”
— perhaps the world ends here, joy harjo
———
even if the world ends tomorrow,
shen ricky’s day begins at the kitchen and ends when kim gyuvin lifts the morning paper up from the table to read.
the morning paper had come in the wee hours of the morning, with the cheerful ring of a bicycle bell as dawn broke and scattered its colors across the sky. ricky had been the one to open the door to take it, stifling a yawn as he murmured a thanks to the neighborhood paperboy, han yujin. gyuvin had always had a particular soft spot for the boy, always lunging forward to suffocate him with his barrage of affection and kisses, even as the feisty sixteen-year-old struggled in his grasp and spat foul curses at him, though with no actual heat present in any of them.
today, there was none of the usual fiery defiance or snark in yujin’s face. ricky tucked the paper under his arm and trained his eyes on him instead. he didn’t need to read the paper. he knew exactly what would be greeting him.
“how’s your mother doing?” he asked softly, as yujin bit his lip. suddenly, he really seemed like his age, in his too-big helmet that nearly slid over his eyes, and the beige messenger bag weighed down on his lanky frame, he was just a lost teenager who was seeing the end way before he should have.
“she’s alright.” yujin said, shifting the bag up on his shoulder. “she’s at home, probably with terry right now. he’s been whining non-stop since morning.”
ricky nodded. a silence flowed between them, in which none of them knew what to say, before ricky broke it to say, “get home soon after you deliver all the papers, kay?”
he dropped something in yujin’s hand, and the boy looked down at the familiar creamy white wrapper of his favorite coconut candy, stark against his pale parm.
“okay,” he said quietly, throwing a leg over his bicycle to continue making his rounds. “thanks, ricky-hyung. tell gyuvin i said hi.”
he was gone, and ricky shut the door, moving into the kitchen to pop two pieces of bread into the toaster, and fill the kettle.
he was just spreading his favorite strawberry jam across their golden toasts when gyuvin walked in, dragging his feet across the smooth tiled floor to slump down at the table, face nearly slamming into the porcelain plate ricky had laid there moments ago.
“morning,” ricky says, clicking his tongue as he moved the plate away so gyuvin wouldn’t smash the sixth tableware of the month. it was one of his favorite plates too, passed down from his mother, rimmed with painted indigo vines. “slept well?”
“like a baby.” gyuvin sits up and yawns, figure leaning back in his chair with his mouth now closed in a little pout. “good morning kiss?”
ricky shoves him away, gyuvin’s laugh ringing in his ears. “not with your morning breath, no.”
“but i brushed my teeth, kim ricky.” gyuvin drawls out, drawing out the syllables of ricky’s name and dragging them over the expanse of his mouth, chewing it over the grooves of his molars so they came out as riiiiiicky.
ricky rolls his eyes, just as the kettle began to shriek. he pours the scalding water into two mugs and swirled the tea bags in them. he had chosen chamomile tea for them this morning, which he knew was an odd choice, considering it was usually taken at night. chamomile tea was good for soothing the mind and letting sleep come easy, with all the rest and peace it stood for. maybe ricky wanted a bit of that this morning.
when he turns back, gyuvin had taken the morning paper in his hands and was staring at the cover. ricky’s fingers tense around the mug handles.
the large red headline emblazoning the front page spells it out in large capital letters, as if it decided they may not be able to read it clearly: END OF THE WORLD, D-1.
it was no surprise to any of them, not when it had been the talk of town for months now. at the start, there had been pandemonium, a general shrieking panic as people ran around, the helplessness in them manifesting into a bundle in them that knotted so deeply into itself it could not be untangled. there were tears, screams, curses, and protests. but there was nothing that could change their fates.
the poets predicted it long ago. they all closed the books and dismissed their desperate scribbles. the scientists predicted it long ago. they all shut the radio off, and went to start a bonfire in the backyard. the tarot cards predicted it long ago. they laughed them off, threw them down the garbage chute, and called it all a scam.
no one sees the end coming until it is upon them.
when ricky opens his eyes again, gyuvin was looking right at him, big brown eyes searching for something in his gaze. the morning light had filtered into the room through the open window, and lit his eyes up with a sheen of golden glow.
“let’s go out, gyuvin-ah.” ricky says. gyuvin doesn’t protest. they stuff their toasts in their mouths, and went to get their coats, not bothering to clean up the crumbs on the table. they leave their tea on the kitchen counter, the liquid now growing colder by the minute. there will be no peace for them today.
———
even if the world ends tomorrow,
they put on their shoes and set off on a walk around the neighborhood, gyuvin’s arm winding around ricky’s with their sides pressed together. and they walk.
they walk past the laundry line of the house next door, where a plain, damp bedsheet billows in the unrelenting wind, secured only by two electric blue plastic pegs. the window is open, and an old telenova blares out of it, melodramatic declarations of love drifting out into the air, bemoaning the fate of a lover and their inevitable loss. in a fit of mischief, gyuvin tries the lock on their bright red mailbox, and find that it is unlocked. there are no more letters left in there, only the cool metal being adorned with long-worn, yellowed stickers cheering of far-off travel destinations and tacky sport team slogans.
“that’s not tacky!”
“gyuvin, your favorite football team is tottenham. i don’t think you get a say in this.”
they amble past the white picket fence of the neighbor, paint peeling away to reveal pale, flaky wood. they gaze into the watchful eyes of the black labrador lounging in the yard, as gyuvin comments that it reminds him of eumppappa, his childhood italian dog. they challenge those glassy eyes to make a sound. he does not bark this time. last week, he snarled when a young child passed by the fence, and had her fleeing away in tears. now, he lays on the overgrown grass, and stares out at them wordlessly, through the long blades of yellowing grass. the neighbors have not been tending to their backyard. maybe they think it is pointless. maybe it is pointless. soon, no one will be around to admire the flourishing greenery and healthy compost and prize-winning gardenias.
“let’s go cycling.”
“sure.”
they take the rusty bikes near the front door out for a ride, and pedal down the street, letting the wheels turn on its own as they wooshed down a slope, gyuvin letting go of the handlebars to wave his long arms frantically in the air as ricky yells at him to be careful. they tire out quick enough, and trace back their steps on the worn-out pavement on foot, step over cracks in the concrete, from where the weeds poke out stubbornly. ricky doesn’t think they particularly care if it were all to end around them soon. they have a long-standing history of surviving in places they were doomed to meet their demise in. somehow, they must think this time will be the same as always. they will find a way.
———
even if the world ends tomorrow,
they take the car out of the garage, that old baby blue mustang, and drive into town. ricky’s behind the wheel, because he was the first one out of them to get his driver’s license, and he’s better at parallel parking.
“you know, i still don’t get how you got such a good driver's license photo.”
“you can just say i'm too handsome for your heart.”
they wind the hood down, and gyuvin stands up from the seats, stretching his arms out to embrace the sky and have the rushing wind meet his face. he hollers something indiscernible to the sky, and ricky does it too, straining his vocal cords as the wind carries their yells away. they get to the nearest diner to order the biggest strawberry milkshakes and sodas, and shoot spitballs at each other with their crumpled paper straws.
they head to the playground, where gyuvin smears ricky’s cheek with mud and leads to the blond promptly chasing him to tackle him down to the grass and trap him in a headlock. ricky swings across the monkey bars with ease; gyuvin tries to clamber down the kiddy slide, though his lanky frame gets stuck for a good while, and ricky has to pull him out and disentangle him as he laughs at how red gyuvin’s face is from mortified embarrassment.
“that was not one of my finest moments.”
“i’m glad you’re self aware.”
they go buy the groceries again.
the cold draft from the store washes upon ricky when they walk in, making him shiver. gyuvin is already dragging him to where the trolleys are and coaxing him into one. soon, ricky is sailing down the aisles, giggling as gyuvin, from behind the handlebars, laughs too, the old wheels rattling over smooth linoleum. gyuvin slaps the sacks of rice when they come across them and they grin at each other. they peer at the dead fishes laying out on crushed ice in the plastic carts, study their insides being opened and sprawled everywhere, and gyuvin tells ricky he hopes his dead body is cremated and his ashes are scattered in the sea, not dissected across melting ice like this. ricky gives a hollow laugh.
“go get the apples— the expensive ones, from fuji.” the blond resorts to telling gyuvin, as he raises an eyebrow at him.
“wow, the dent in the bank account is going to go crazy.” gyuvin whistles, grinning as ricky laughs at him. “but i guess it will hardly matter after today.”
they go get milk, and remember to pick out the bottles deep inside the freezer. they get the ice cream last, a whole tub of cotton candy pink, so it doesn’t melt in the trolley. when they pay, ricky asks for a plastic bag, forks out the extra 20 cents, and lets the cashier keep the change.
———
even if the world ends tomorrow,
they go home, unlock the front door, leave their shoes messily strewn across the shoe rack, and slide across the wooden floors with socked feet. gyuvin races ricky to the fridge to put everything away, even the melted ice cream, and they dance in the refrigerator light to their horrible rendition of an elton john song. ricky’s voice cracks when the song pitches out of range for him. they call for pizza because it’s ricky’s favorite, and make it large with extra cheese because that’s the way gyuvin likes it, and open up the bottle of expensive wine they got as a housewarming gift from ricky’s rich aunt all those years back. gyuvin runs the bath, makes sure it’s warm, and lights some candles around the bathroom for the “atmosphere”. ricky gets out the bath bombs they got as free wedding favors, and they watch them fizz in the water and turn it daylily pink. ricky slips into the bathwater with gyuvin, naked limbs entangling with each other’s, and they stay there until the skin on their fingertips wrinkle.
even if the world ends tomorrow,
when the doorbell rings, ricky, swathed in a fluffy pink bathrobe, runs to the door to pay and thanks the delivery driver, and tells her she has beautiful eyes. he heads out to the backyard, where gyuvin has set out the lawn chairs, and they start a bonfire again. they watch the smoke disappear up into the air. in the city center, there are no stars to be seen in the polluted night sky. regardless, they look for constellations, and trace them on their skin, connecting the moles on their bare backs. gyuvin kisses on every single mole on ricky’s back, and ricky shivers at both the chilly night breeze, and also at gyuvin’s warm breath fanning at the crook of his neck.
they crank up the music until it’s way too loud, and sing their throats hoarse. gyuvin sings shawn mendes, like he always does, and ricky sings his usual r&b.
“you sounded better in the shower last night.”
“oh shut up, maybe the acoustics in the bathroom are just better.”
they tell stories. gyuvin gesticulates a point with crumbs-covered fingers and a blanket draped across his back. his side profile is bathed in soft, orange-golden light, and his eyes are equally as fierce when they look at ricky’s. gyuvin tells ricky the story of that summer trip he went on with his family when he was six. he tells him when he vomited as a child down the sink and had to wake his mother in the dead middle of the night. he tells him about his first love back in middle school, how she just looked at him and smiled and then he found himself falling.
even if the world ends tomorrow,
they lay next to each other on the damp grass, and ask each other questions they cannot answer.
“what if we never met all those years back?”
“did you ever think you would die so soon?”
“when was the last time you thought of home?”
“if you were to live this life again, would you do anything different?”
“do you regret anything?”
“what do you think happens next?”
“are you scared?”
ricky turns his head to meet gyuvin’s eyes, already staring at him.
“gyuvin,” he whispers out. gyuvin hums to show he’s listening, and waits for him to go on. “i will always love you.”
gyuvin’s face splits into a blinding grin. “i will always love you too, kim ricky.”
he leans in, and seals their lips together in a promise.
and even if the world ends tomorrow,
even as the countdown ticks to zero,
even as the bonfire burns down to its last embers,
even as the earth explodes into violent flames around them;
let us go out with a gentle kiss, ricky thinks, before he is lost in gyuvin again.