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He is a boy . Minseok muses when the car pulls up and Kim Jongdae steps out. Dressed in a sweater that looks expensive, he is woefully overdressed for Minseok’s humble little farm. Tan judges him, as she does when he crosses the gates, past the threshold of his nice and neat city life and into Minseok’s world, where he will stay, hopefully a little longer than the others.
“Minseok ssi?” His voice has a smooth lilt, like honey, pleasant and warm like sunshine. Minseok decides that he likes it.
“Hi.” Minseok extends a hand, and a smooth hand grasps his. Their eyes meet, and for a moment, the air stills.
Jongdae is the one who breaks it, with a giggle that spears warmth into Minseok’s chest, the curly corners of his lips remind him awfully of his barn cats. Minseok laughs too, pulling him into a hug.
“You look younger than your picture,” Jongdae says, teasing. “I was half expecting to be catfished.”
“You came all the way out to the country to meet a man you didn’t trust?” Minseok’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead, and Jongdae laughs again. Once more, Minseok is reminded of the morning sun.
“You invited a man you met on a dating app to your farm,” Jongdae retorts as Minseok guides him towards the front door. “I’m just hoping that the six months we spent talking means you truly aren’t a serial killer.”
It is not quite as shallow as that. Minseok has been to the city plenty. They have been on dates to cafes and fancy restaurants and movie theatres, and it had worried Minseok at first, that the distance would be a deal breaker. Jongdae is a city boy, as evidenced by his probably cashmere sweater that has sleeves extended past his hands, giving him adorable sweater paws.
Minseok would not be caught dead in something like that. For one, Tan will claw it to shreds. And another, he spends too much time sweating in the barn and out on the fields to wear something as delicate as cashmere.
He can play in Jongdae’s world, but Minseok’s heart will always be out here, with his horses and cows and rabbits. And the barn cats and the giant dog that comes bounding out, barking so loudly that Jongdae takes a step back, stunned.
“Gom, yah!” Minseok catches Gom’s collar, tugging him away before he can leap upon Jongdae, and possibly crush him into the dirt. That cashmere sweater will not survive the trip. “Sorry, he’s just excited.”
“I can tell,” Jongdae says. To his credit, he does not look nearly as scared as Minseok expects him to. Instead, he crouches down, offering his hands, and Gom leans forward, tail wagging so hard his entire body moves. “Hello, beautiful.”
Minseok winces when Gom drools all over the sleeves of Jongdae’s very nice sweater, but Jongdae does not even seem to care, caressing Gom’s head fondly.
The routine that they settle into unnerves Minseok with its simplicity. He had expected more complaints when Jongdae discovered the rickety shower, but Jongdae only laughed and called it charming. Gom follows him everywhere and Minseok is half convinced that Jongdae will have to take him home when he eventually leaves; he loves him so.
Jongdae volunteers to help with the farm chores, and once they discover that Jongdae did not indeed pack enough farm clothes, Minseok gets to see him wander around in his own. It feels like claiming almost, as he watches Jongdae crouch on his kitchen floor to fuss over Tan, wearing a blue shirt that is a little large for him.
The shutter sound is loud when he snaps a photo, and it makes Jongdae look up, flashing him a smile that makes his knees go weak.
Minseok takes him to see the fruit trees once the morning chores are over. The summer trees are laden, their branches so heavy they are bent over like old men bent over their canes.
“The peaches are ripe,” he says when Jongdae gazes at him with shining eyes. “Take as many as you want. We’ll make peach jam later.”
-
It is nicer than he imagined, waking up to birdsong. What is even better is that Jongdae can roll over and see Minseok’s face first thing in the morning. He loves this quiet pocket of Sunday mornings, where Minseok lets himself sleep in, where he can lie still and simply watch Minseok breathe.
Jongdae toys with the idea for a while, simply selling the apartment and moving here, where the birds always sing in the morning, where the sun paints everything it touches in gold. They never get this in the city.
Jongdae always wakes too late when Minseok is over, and then has to rush off to work while Minseok figures out his coffee machine and starts his day with leisure. Over here, it is the opposite.
Minseok wakes before even the sun, stirring Jongdae awake. Even though he insists that Jongdae should stay in bed, Jongdae will crawl out to join him in the kitchen, inhaling the smell of coffee filling the air. He will hug Minseok around the middle and waddle everywhere with him until he fully wakes up.
The countryside is a different sort of quiet in the morning when Jongdae steps outside. He has learned Minseok’s routine, how to let the poultry out, and where to find the feed for the animals. Minseok does not actually need the paper he sticks over every container, but it helps Jongdae remember how many scoops of feed the horses need.
He tries milking the cows, but they prefer Minseok’s touch to his, for sure.
Minseok teaches him how to make peach jam that day they go to pluck fruit from the trees, and the kitchen is filled with the sugary scent of peaches cooking. They sit at the kitchen table, feeding each other bites of the leftover fruit, teeth sinking into soft, sweet flesh, sharing sticky kisses.
“Those are fancy boots,” Minseok comments the day he offers to take them riding.
“They have a heel,” Jongdae says, lifting his feet. “I read online that’s what they should have.”
Minseok’s chuckle warms him all the way inside like he has just had hot cocoa on a winter’s morning. They hold hands all the way to the barn, where Minseok demonstrates how to put the bridle on a gelding called Baek. Minseok is very fond of one-syllable names, as evidenced by Tan, Gom and now Baek.
Jongdae gets his own, a grey gelding called Kkum who is sweet and gentle and stands very still even when Jongdae struggles to get his feet into the stirrups.
They ride up a hill to watch the sun rise and Jongdae dreams.
He tires of his office job, and a life here working with Minseok seems so very much like a fairytale. But this is Minseok’s life, and Jongdae is not sure if he is welcome for so long.
Six months is not long enough to invite himself into someone else’s home. Even if it is the life that he has dreamed for himself.
So, he keeps on, collecting eggs in the morning until the hens know him, cutting wheat with Minseok when the time comes, and learning how to grind it into flour. Minseok teaches him how to bake, with the sweet peaches from his trees, and the strawberries they pluck from the bushes that border his property, and Jongdae dreams.
-
Minseok learns the shape of his want too quickly. He learns the texture of Jongdae’s skin, the softness of his lips makes him want to stay in bed just for a little longer. He resists, but only barely.
Jongdae looks most beautiful when he is sleep-tousled, fresh out of bed in a soft sweater just marginally too big for his narrow shoulders. Minseok learns that he likes the way yellow, and blue look on Jongdae, whether it is the woolen blue of a sweater, or cake batter yellow smeared on his cheeks.
It scares him, how easily he can imagine Jongdae staying.
In the afternoons when the chores are done, they sit by the lake sometimes and Jongdae writes. He has a little notebook and a fountain pen that writes in pretty purple ink. Minseok thinks it suits him, the magical quality of lavender ink on blank pages.
“What are you writing?” he asks, holding up a ripe strawberry. He is careful to shield the pages; he does not want to stain Jongdae’s careful writing.
“My book,” Jongdae says through a mouthful of fruit. “I’ve been working on it on and off. It’s been two years.”
“What happens when it’s done?” Minseok asks.
“I try to sell it. Then I write the next one,” Jongdae says derisively. Minseok loves him for it. He says things like there is no room for error like there is no other way the universe can and should bend but to his will.
Gom comes rustling up, laying his head in Minseok’s lap. Minseok strokes his head gently, thoughtfully.
“I’m applying for a grant,” Jongdae says, after a few more lines of scratching.
“A grant?”
“So, I can quit my job and write.”
“The city does that?” Minseok blinks.
“Yeah. I have a portfolio. The results come out next Tuesday.”
Minseok loses track of time quickly, but Jongdae does not. He has a fancy smart watch and a calendar that he sits on Minseok’s window counter that has pictures of kittens all over it. Minseok likes it because it makes it feel as if Jongdae is making himself at home.
“And what happens if you get it?” he asks, tangling their fingers together.
Jongdae looks at him, then looks away.
“When I get it? I’ll have to find a quiet place to write. To finish my book.”
Minseok’s heart thuds, and he leans closer, setting his chin on Jongdae’s shoulder. Jongdae’s lips are the most perfect shape to kiss, soft and pouty and warm, and when he puckers them up, Minseok cannot resist.
He pecks him gently on the corner of his mouth, before retreating back to his shoulder.
“Where?”
For the first time, Minseok sees doubt in Jongdae’s eyes. Jongdae swallows, chewing his lips, and Minseok wills him to say it. To say the words he wants him to.
The silence stretches out between him, broken only by the rustle of the wind through branches and Gom’s quiet huffs as he pants. He gets up, darts after something in the underbrush and they are left alone, sitting in a pool of unspeakable words.
“Does it have to be quiet?” Minseok asks finally, turning over Jongdae’s hand. Jongdae jumps, blinking long lashes at him.
“Hm?”
“The place you have to go. Does it need to be quiet?”
“Well–, I’d like it to be in nature.”
“What if it has a dog?” Minseok asks, and Jongdae just looks at him.
“A dog?”
“Mm hm. And a cat,” Minseok continues. Jongdae’s eyes twinkle, and the cloud of doubt lifts. He pretends to think.
“I don’t know.”
“There’s half a dozen horses,” Minseok says, trying and failing to hide a grin in Jongdae’s shoulder. “ Definitely a dozen chickens.”
“The clucking could be a deal breaker,” Jongdae says, but he is smiling now. Minseok shuts his book for him and tugs him into his lap, ribboning his arms around his waist.
“But you get eggs every morning, and coffee. And we get to milk the cows.”
“There’s a we?” Jongdae giggles, and it is the most beautiful sound.
Minseok laughs and yanks him down into a kiss that sears all seven colours of the rainbow into his eyelids. He tastes strawberries on Jongdae’s lips, and yearning turns from dream to reality.
“It’s a little early,” he says, once they pull apart, and Jongdae is pink-cheeked and panting. “But hell yes, there’s a we.”