Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The smell of manure greeted Hao as they traveled down a wide lane of fields. The dirt road underneath the wheels of the car did not make the trip any more pleasant, shaking the vehicle roughly as they headed forward. Not that Hao had wanted to go on this trip anyway. He would've rather stayed in the city, coped up in his room with nothing but his violin and his sheet music. But he did not have much of a say on how to spend his semester break after the incident.

The incident being a very minorbreak down after he had failed to get the solo for the upcoming concert of their university's orchestra. There might've been some crying involved, maybe some shouting. Maybe some music stands hadn't survived the aftermath of the breakdown either. Maybe his minor breakdown could also be described as a mental health crisis just waiting to happen - until it finally did happen. Which led him to his current situation.

The temper tantrum that had come after his grandiose failure of an audition was why he probably shouldn't wonder that his own mother was treating him like a little child and putting him on time out. Instead of letting Hao deal with this setback on his own, she had shown up to his dorm room and quite literally forced him to take a sabbatical. That's what his mother was calling the weeks she had arranged for Hao to stay at his aunt's farm. Like it was some luxury wellness vacation rich celebrities went to rehab for, and not an old stable in the middle of nowhere surrounded by stinky animals.

Needless to say, Hao was less than happy with his current predicament. He leaned his head against the frame of the opened window and pouted. If his mom was treating him like a little child, he might as well act like one.

"Do I really have to do this?" He whined, watching the fields fly past them. The sheer nothingness that surrounded him was already making him anxious, missing the constant buzz of the city.

His mother gave him a stern look. "Yes, you do."

"Please, I've learned my lesson! I will only insult worse violinists in my head from now on," Hao tried again. He really did not want to lose precious time that he could be practicing because he had to milk some cows or whatever you did on a farm. It had been years since he had last visited his aunt out there.

His mom sighed. "Trust me, this will be good for you," she signaled a turn despite them being the only vehicle out there.

"How will wasting time on some farm be any good for me when I should be practicing?" Hao groaned, feeling like his mother really did not understand what had gotten him to this point in the first place.

His mom remained silent for a while, staring ahead at the road. She took a deep breath. "You're not smiling anymore, Hao. I don't want to see you like that. Some distance will do you good."

Hao scoffed, an uneasy feeling spreading in his stomach. He felt weirdly called out. Not wanting to talk any longer with his mother, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and continued staring out of the window for the rest of the drive.

After roughly twenty more minutes, they reached the small village his aunt had settled down in. Big farmhouses and even wider fields stretched around them. Hao's memories of this place were blurry at best. He had always preferred the city to the countryside, not liking the silence and boredom that hung like a looming cloud over this place.

He climbed out of the car defiantly. His mom gave him a scolding look as they unloaded his luggage together. Hao took his violin case first. Despite his mother vehemently arguing against Hao bringing his beloved instrument, he had sneaked it into the trunk. No way was he spending weeks here without practicing at all.

His mother rolled his eyes when she saw it, but didn't argue further, apparently at the end of her wits. After all, Hao had inherited his stubbornness from her.

She pulled him into a quick hug. "Please, try to have a good time. Your cousin is supposed to be here as well, so be nice to him!"

Hao had to hold back an annoyed noise. "Mom, I'm not six anymore. You don't have to tell me to behave."

His mother separated from him, fondness reflecting in her eyes. She softly caressed through his hair. "Please, try to be happy here. For me, okay?"

Hao bit down on his lip. He was defenseless in front of his mother, who had always wanted the best for him. He gave in. "Fine. I'll try."

"That's my son," his mother smiled, patting his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Hao mumbled underneath his breath, never good with these kind of affectionate confessions. But he knew it meant a lot to his mother to hear them, so he tried to say it more often.

Her smile brightened. "I'll pick you up at the end of summer."

With those words, she bid her goodbye, jumping back into the car. Filled with envy, Hao watched her retreat from the farmyard. Of course, his mother could head back to the city, to her job and her nice apartment, leaving Hao to fend for himself in the wilderness. He let out a heavy sigh. Well, there was no turning back now.

He picked up his luggage and made his way to the farmhouse his aunt resided in. Very distant memories of him running around in the fields flashed through his mind. He knew that as a little boy he had spent almost every summer here, playing with his cousin and tending to the animals back when his mother and him had still lived on the edge of the town. But he was twenty-three now, finishing his college degree in music and that little boy was long since gone.

The house of his aunt was old and looked it. There was paint splintering from the facade, a few planks on the porch looked like they needed fixing. An arrangement of flowers was potted on the patio, growing wildly. Two rocking chairs looked out, knitted blankets resting on top of them. The house looked old, but like it was full of stories. In comparison to the sleek buildings in the city that couldn’t be more manufactured, it looked full of character. Hao admitted it had a charm. 

He heaved his stuff up the three stairs leading up to the porch, before he put down his suitcase temporarily. The bell was copper, probably due to years of rusting away. It worked nonetheless, a pleasant 'ding-dong' echoing through the silence.

Shortly after the door swung open, revealing a short woman with wild, curly hair. "Haohao! You're here already!"

Just like her house, Hao hadn't seen his aunt in quite a while. Only the occasional picture sent with the Christmas mail let him know that it was in fact her standing in front of him.

"Yeah. My mom already left. She had work to do," Hao explained the lack of his mother's presence. He was always feeling a bit awkward meeting new people, and even though he technically knew his aunt, it still felt like they were strangers.

"Of course, well, come inside then," his aunt said, stepping aside so Hao could enter. She was a little smaller in stature than his mother, but they had the same kind eyes. It helped Hao overcome some of his awkwardness.

The inside of her home smelled like wood and mint and blueberry jam. The scent helped activate some of his memories, remembering that his aunt brewed her tea fresh and made her own jam.

"Wait, let me get your cousin," she told him, motioning for him to wait in the hallway as she went to the staircase to the left. "Ricky! Come down, your cousin is here!" She yelled, making Hao startle at the sudden volume of her voice.

There was some rustling and groaning, and then the sound of steps approaching. A little while later a boy came shuffling down the stairs. He did not look like the typical farm boy Hao had imagined growing up on a farm. The contact to his cousin had been even more sparse than to his aunt, so he did not know what to expect except that his name was Ricky and that he was four years younger than him.

Ricky had grown a lot taller since they had last met. His hair was a bright blonde and he was wearing slick black pants and a nice shirt tucked into them. Multiple pairs of silver earrings were hanging down his ears. Ricky was more dressed for a runway than a day on a farm.

"Ricky, you remember Hao, right?" His aunt introduced them, as it was obvious that it had been too long for them to have any real recollection of each other.

"Right," he threw Hao's violin case a pointed look. "The violin prodigy."

Hao shuffled on his feet awkwardly, fiddling with his case. "Hi."

His aunt patted his back, moving him to the stairs. "Ricky, why don't you help Hao settle into the guest room while I get started on dinner?"

Ricky shrugged. "Sure."

Then he turned around, heading back up the stairs. It took Hao a second to comprehend that that was his clue to follow him. Quickly, he gathered his luggage and hurried up the stairs after his cousin.

The layout of the house was confusing. Many nooks and crannies made it difficult to memorize the path he was taking. At one door Ricky finally stopped, pushing it open without much ceremony.

"Your room," Ricky stated and Hao nodded as he stepped inside. It was twice as big as his dorm room back in the city where there was hardly space to breathe. A large bed with soft looking sheets was placed in the middle. A round window allowed him a view over the surrounding fields. Although this was only a guest room, they must've prepared it for him, as a fresh bouquet of flowers was placed on the bedside table.

"Thanks. It's nice," he said, putting his suitcase down. The room was probably not soundproof, so if Hao wanted to be a respectful guest, he had to come up with a good schedule to practice.

"It's probably not what you're used to from the city," Ricky replied, eyeing Hao with an unreadable expression. Hao, being the introvert he was, did not know what to respond. So he simply hummed and turned to his luggage.

Ricky kept watching him as Hao began to unpack. It was a bit unsettling. At one point, the silence became too heavy to bear.

"Erm, I like your earrings," Hao tried it with a compliment. He could not yet evaluate Rick's character, but he knew most people liked being complimented.

It seemed to work, as Ricky's posture became a little less stiff. "Thanks. I'm really interested in fashion. I plan on studying it."

It was easy to tell that Ricky had an interest in fashion, obvious by the way his entire get-up depicted perfect harmony.

"So you're gonna move to the city as well?" Hao asked him, keen on finding common ground between them.

"That's the plan," Ricky confirmed. "I've been taking a year to figure myself out, but I'll enroll next semester."

"That's cool. The city is a lot of fun, there's a lot to see. I could show you around," Hao told him, always happy to share his knowledge. "I think you'll like it."

Ricky hummed in agreement. "I think so, too. About time I get out of here. There's not much to do here."

Hao began carefully folding his clothes and tugging them into the closet. "What is there to do then? I mean, you must do something, right?"

Ricky shrugged, letting himself drape over Hao's bed, apparently getting a lot more comfortable with him already. "There's a few people around my age living here. We usually just hang out. I can introduce you some time, if you want to."

 Hao made an indecisive noise. "I'll probably have to practice a lot. But I'll see."

Ricky hummed again, unbothered by Hao's reply. Having reached his limit for small talk, Hao indulged the silence that settled between them as he finished unpacking. Looked like this would be a long summer.

Hao had always believed it was a bad stereotype that people on farms rose to the crow of a rooster. It took him one morning to figure that that was not the case. It seemed like the rooster was performing a solo concerto, so loud and vibrant was its morning call. Hao felt like he was caught in a bad joke. This could not be his reality. He groaned as he buried his face in his pillow.

He almost missed the soft knock on his door. 

"Hao, breakfast will be ready soon. Please come down and join us." The voice of his aunt made him give up on finding his way back to dreamland. A long sigh left his lips as he rubbed over his face.

Even though he had gone to bed quite early last night, he felt tired. After a delicious dinner, Hao had refused the offer of tea and gone straight to his room, because the whole situation had once again become too much for him. The rooster started a second round of morning calls, making Hao cringe. He was no stranger to getting up early to reserve the best practice room, but he had not been prepared to be awoken at sunrise today.

Sluggishly, he made it out of bed, trying to make himself look decent enough to face his aunt and cousin for breakfast. He doubted his t-shirt and sweatpants combo would get a stamp of approval from Ricky, but it would do for now. He wandered his way through the hallway, only taking a wrong turn once before he found the stairs. From there on it was quite easy to find the kitchen, the smell of bacon guiding his way.

If there was one good thing about staying with his aunt for the summer, it was being served home-cooked meals. He had already come to that conclusion yesterday, when his aunt had served a hearty stew with delicious oven-baked potatoes. Something Hao himself, too busy to learn how to cook and therefore living from takeout and convenience store food, could've never produced himself.

His assumptions about the breakfast menu proved right as he entered the kitchen, finding his aunt standing in front of the stove, a pan of sizzling bacon in front of her. She turned around to him when she noticed his presence.

"Hao, can you be a dear and fetch some eggs from the barn? I would ask Ricky to do it, but he's already out to get some bread from the bakery," his aunt asked him, before her attention was occupied by the pan in front of her again.

Not wanting to seem like an ungrateful guest - he was after all living and being fed here for free - Hao agreed, making his way outside. There were some distant memories swimming around in his mind, of him chasing chickens and collecting eggs when he used to spend his summers here. Hao tried to encourage himself as he spotted the barn in the backyard of the farmhouse. It was only some chicken and some eggs. How hard could it be?

Hao was taking back every word. Collecting eggs was a lot harder than it looked. Or maybe his aunt's chickens were just a lot more aggressive than the common chickens. Every time Hao tried to approach their nests, they cackled at him angrily, making him flinch away in shock. When he tried to get over his fear - he was after all a lot taller than a chicken! - they started attacking him, picking at his hands with their sharp beaks. Hao swore these could not be ordinary chickens!

Trying to gather his courage, he slowly neared the chicken that was sleeping alone in a corner. He just needed to grab it to take a look underneath to hopefully find an egg. As cautiously as possible, not wanting to hurt the animal, Hao tried to hold it. Wrong move. The chicken woke up, fluttering its wings in an act of intimidation. Startled, Hao yelped and let go, stumbling over his feet and falling onto his butt rather uncoordinatedly. As if collectively deciding that Hao was their new enemy the chickens started flying around and above him, making him cower in fear.

Hao, surrendering to his fate, only tried to protect his hands by hiding them in his pockets, as they were the most important part of him, responsible for holding his precious violin. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the chicken riot to settle down.

He heard the door to the barn open once more and suddenly all the chicken moved away from him. Not wanting to believe his luck, Hao remained unmoving on the ground.

"What are you doing?" A voice made him jump out of his freeze.

A young man, probably around his own age, was standing in the door, amusement sparkling in his eyes. He was wearing denim overalls with a simple white t-shirt underneath. That was how Hao had pictured a typical farmboy to look.

Hao scrambled back onto his feet, dusting off his pants. "Obviously, I've been trying to get some eggs."

The boy chuckled. " Obviously ."

Feeling like he was being made fun of, Hao defiantly turned his head away. He started another attempt, but at the first sign of a chicken flying his way he flinched back. No way was he getting in the middle of that again. He had been traumatized enough for one morning.

This time, the boy laughed openly at him. "Need help?"

Hao pouted. He did not need help. He needed Jesus to chase the devil out of these possessed chickens.

Taking his silence for an answer, the boy walked past him. The chicken started rustling again as he approached and Hao quickly made his way all the way to the back.

However, instead of attacking him, the chicken peacefully gathered around his feet as the boy dropped a few grains on the ground. Leaving their nests completely unprotected, it was now an act of ease for the boy to collect the eggs.

Hao gasped, indignant. Why had no one told him about this trick? No wonder he had failed at retrieving the eggs!

After having emptied the nests, the boy turned around to look at Hao, who was still keeping a safe distance from the chicken. A smug smile besotted his features as he walked over.

"See, not that hard," he smirked, presenting at least a dozen eggs in his hands.

Hao couldn't believe he was shown up like this. He scoffed. "Who are you anyway? Are you even allowed in this barn?" 

The boy huffed out in laughter as he closed the distance between them. "I think I should rather question what you are doing here. At least I did not scare the chicken."

Hao glared at him. He did not scare the chicken, the chicken literally attacked him! But his pride wouldn't let him say that. He didn't even know who this stranger was who had found him at such a low point of his life.

"These are my aunt's chicken! I'm allowed to scare them!" He replied instead, crossing his arms in front of his chest. After all, it was the truth. He had every right to be here.

The boy's eyes glinted teasingly. While Hao's first impression of him had been of a typical farmboy, up close he could make out a constellation of tattoos across his chest that contradicted that image. It was oddly intriguing.

"Your aunt?" He asked, giving Hao an assessing look. "How come I've never seen you around then?"

It was almost insulting how much he was being questioned, but he supposed after his earlier performance, he should've expected it. "I'm from the city," he explained himself, trying to sound confident. "I'm only visiting for the summer."

The corners of the stranger's lips quivered. "Oh, that explains a lot."

Hao gasped, now truly feeling insulted. It was not his fault that nobody told him about the evil chickens! "And you? Do I have to report you to my aunt for stealing her eggs?"

The boy outright laughed at him again. It did not make Hao feel better. Although the sound of his laughter was quite pleasant, he had to admit.

"I'm Hanbin, I live in town. Your aunt allowed me to collect some eggs whenever I want. I help around the farm a lot," the boy - Hanbin - explained. 

Hao squinted at him suspiciously. "How do I know you're not some lying thief?"

He knew it was unlikely that Hanbin was lying. The way he carried himself around the barn and so expertly tricked the chickens was proof that this had not been his first time around here. Still, he did not want his aunt to be robbed under his own eyes!

"You can just ask your aunt," Hanbin shrugged, again the lack of concern at Hao's accusation proving that he had truly nothing to fear.

"I will!" Hao huffed, just for the sake of it.

Hanbin laughed, this time it sounded a lot softer or maybe Hao only perceived it that way because it was not at his expense. "So, what's your name then?"

Hao pursed his lips. "Why would I tell a thief my name?"

"First of all, I'm not a thief," Hanbin repeated firmly. "Second of all, I'll give you half my eggs if you tell me."

Hao gave Hanbin an interested glance. That sounded like an offer worth considering. He could not possibly return to his aunt's kitchen empty handed.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "My name is Hao."

"Hao," Hanbin said, eyes twinkling as he regarded him with another look. "I like it."

Hao ignored the comment, holding out his hands with his palms open. "Your turn," he prompted.

Hanbin chuckled but did as promised and placed half the eggs into Hao's hands. "There you go."

"Thanks," Hao muttered, because he did have manners despite how he acted earlier. Someone had to be a rolemodel for those lawless chickens!

"No problem," Hanbin told him with a warm smile. It was the kind of smile that made hearts melt when seeing it. Not Hao's heart, though! Just hearts in a general sense. (He had eyes, okay?!) "I'll see you around then, Hao."

Hanbin left the barn first. Hao shook his head. What a weird encounter. He doubted he would see Hanbin around much as he planned to spend most of his time in his room practicing. No audience allowed.

The cackle of a chicken made him shriek. The bunch of little devils were looking at him funny again. No, Hao would not take another chance. He clutched the eggs to his chest and ran out of the barn as fast as his feet would carry him.

When his aunt asked him what had taken him so long, Hao mumbled some excuse about getting lost. No one needed to know about his disaster of a morning. He hoped Hanbin shared the same appreciation for secrecy.

After breakfast, Hao went upstairs again. It was still early, but after his rather adventurous morning Hao did not feel like going back to bed. He doubted he would find much sleep anyway. He shut the door behind him, letting his body drop on top of his bed with a heavy sigh. One day down. He could make it through the summer.

Just as he had gathered the strength to collect all the things he needed for his daily shower, a knock disturbed his privacy as shortly after the door swung open.

Hao held back his scolding as his cousin had not even waited for Hao to allow him entrance. He could have been very much naked!

"My mom said I should show you around town today," Ricky told him, sounding bored already.

Hao cleared his throat. The thought that his cousin liked the idea of him spending the summer here just as much as Hao did did not leave him. "It's alright. You don't have to do that. I could use the time to practice."

"She insisted," Ricky said. "Besides, if I'm busy with you I don't have to help around the farm today. I could use a day off."

"Oh," Hao breathed. He guessed it wouldn't be too bad the get re-acquaintanced with the town. And if it got Ricky a break at least someone benefited from his stay here. "Okay, then. But can I take a shower first?"

Ricky gave him a swift nod before disappearing to what Hao presumed to be his own room. Another deep sigh left his lips. So much for having fun here.

If Hao remembered only vague things about his aunt's farm, he remembered even less about the small little town the farms belonged to. He did remember that as a kid, the town had felt much bigger than it did now. But Hao had not lived in the city back then. Everything had felt bigger before that.

Ricky was as polite of a tourguide as one could wish for. He showed Hao around the neighbors' farms as they nowadays shared a lot of their fields, stables and barns with each other. Then he led them into town, past a few small stores that sold handmade goods, and one singular grocery shop. Ricky dropped a few pieces of information as they wandered the streets, of when the stores opened and who they were run by. It probably shouldn't be as surprising that Ricky knew almost every store owner in a tight-knitted town like this. In the city, where everything was run by big corporate brands, you would be lucky to even know the cashier's name.

They kept strolling, Hao ' oh 'ing and ' ah 'ing appropriately, occasionally asking a question as Ricky kept introducing the town to him. Hao, as an introvert, was quite prone to finding conversations exhausting, but even to him this felt unusually stiff. As kids, he remembered getting along with Ricky quite effortlessly, but he guessed too much time had passed for them to build on the grounds of their old relationship.

Finally, they reached the big marketplace right in front of the townhall. Hao did have a few memories of this place, remembering the big fountain with the iron figurines depicting different farm animals spewing water. He recounted trying to climb on top of the cow as a child, but never quite making it before being caught by his mom. 

"There's a big market here every Wednesday and Sunday," Ricky let him know as they meandered around the place. "But mom and I usually only sell stuff on Sundays."

Hao hummed. "What do you sell?"

Ricky shrugged his shoulders. "Depends. Jams, sometimes fruit or eggs or milk if there is too much for us to eat."

Hao nodded. That sounded plausible. He knew the main income of his aunt were her large cornfields, growing corn that she sold to the big food companies, but earning a little extra money for all the other crops she owned made sense to him. After they had walked around the marketplace once, Ricky steered him towards a small cafe hidden in a corner of the street.

'Cafe Ludia' the sign above the door read in big cursive letters.

"This is my friend's place. We hang out here a lot," Ricky explained as he held the door open for Hao. Even though Ricky had not seemed very keen on showing Hao around this morning, he was glad to be let into some of Ricky's treasured places.

"It's nice," he commented as he took in the cozy interior. A few houseplants were placed in front of the window. A mismatched arrangement of chairs and tables filled the inside, and what looked like hand-made pillows, cloths and blankets gave the place a homey vibe. It was a stark contrast to all the modern cafes Hao frequented in the city. He had meant what he said. It was nice.

Ricky led him to the counter, where the menu was written down on black charts with cute little drawings of the items. Nobody was currently working, leaving Ricky and Hao alone in the cafe.

Apparently very used to this, Ricky started ringing the bell placed on the counter annoyingly often. If they were in the city, Hao would've been more than embarrassed by this behavior, but Ricky did not seem to care about the inappropriateness. His tactic worked as shortly after a worker was summoned from the back. 

Hao's jaw dropped when he saw who was stepping up to the counter. It was the boy from the barn. Hanbin, as the name tag pinned to his apron kindly reminded him. His face flushed a deep shade of red and he tried to hide himself behind Ricky. In hindsight, he felt deeply ashamed of how he had acted this morning, failing spectacularly at collecting some eggs, only to be found by a stranger and accuse him of stealing. Definitely not his brightest moment.

"You can stop that, Ricky," Hanbin greeted them with an annoyed but fond smile and Ricky finally halted his ringing. "Your usual, I suppose?"

"Where's Gyuvin?" Ricky asked him instead of answering as Hanbin got to work.

"Still having breakfast," Hanbin supplied, expertly working the coffee machine. "He couldn't get enough of mom's scrambled eggs."

At the mention of eggs, Hao tried to shrink himself even smaller, which must look quite ridiculous as he was a tall man.

As if only remembering him now, Ricky stepped aside, not helping Hao's attempt to hide and fully exposing him to Hanbin. "Right, this is my cousin, Hao."

Hao's eyes flickered from his feet to Hanbin's face, only to flicker right back to the ground when he noticed his bemused smirk. 

"I know. We've met," Hanbin said, causing Ricky to make a confused noise. Hao wanted to leave town. He knew it had been a mistake to come here.

"We met this morning. In the barn," Hao mumbled in explanation when Ricky wouldn't stop looking at him.

"You mean, I saved you from getting slaughtered by chicken," Hanbin chimed in, making Hao gasp and pout.

"I had everything under control!" Hao fought back - he would not let himself be humiliated by some farmboy! 

Hanbin chuckled. "Sure," he said, sliding Ricky's drink over the counter. It looked like a pink monstrosity, bits and pieces of strawberry peeking through the thick pink liquid and a mountain of whipped cream on top. "So, what can I get you?"

Hao had been so fascinated by Ricky's drink of choice, he was startled a little at being asked for his own order. Not having had any time to study the menu, no words left his mouth. Great. What a way to redeem his reputation. Hanbin must think he was a complete fool. And yet it was all his fault for putting Hao on the spot like that all the time!

Noticing his indecisiveness, Hanbin finally had some mercy on him. Hao probably could not have withstood any more of his teasing. "How about I make you our bestseller? Everybody likes it."

Hao kept his mouth shut and nodded.

Ricky had watched their exchange with vast attention. Perhaps Hao making a fool out of himself finally gathered his interest.

It only took Hanbin a minute of bustling and rumbling to prepare the coffee, this time personally handing it over to Hao, letting their fingers brush. As if having been burned Hao pulled his hand away, the drink sloshing around in its cup but thankfully not spilling.

Before Hao could ask how much he owed him, Hanbin winked at him, "On the house. Don't worry about it."

Well, that was the least he could do after all the emotional harm he had caused Hao today. He accepted the cup with a muttered ‘thank you ’ and a small smile. Then he quickly followed Ricky out of the cafe. He really hoped this would be the last he'd see of Hanbin. Considering the size of this town, however, he somehow doubted it.

For the rest of the day, Hao sequestered himself into his room. His aunt was out at the cornfields, and he declined Ricky's lackluster invitation for him to go out and meet up with this Gyuvin person. If he was anything like Hanbin, Hao could very well abstain from meeting him. Besides, Ricky's invitation for him to come along had not felt very genuine. And Hao knew when he was unwelcome somewhere. If he had to be here against his will, he at least did not want to intrude. It’s not like he didn’t know that he didn’t belong here. He didn’t have to make it more obvious.

The rest of the week, Hao somehow kept himself busy. His aunt gave him minor tasks to help around, noticing that Hao did not really have anything to do here. She let him label her jam jars, or make him sweep the halls so that at least he would not be sitting around in his room all day collecting dust. 

Hao accompanied Ricky and his aunt to the market on Wednesday and Sunday, whereby Ricky quickly made himself sparse, looking for his friends, leaving his aunt busy selling or buying goods. That left Hao silently strolling by her side, trying to not become a burden. 

He figured that his presence here had also been forced upon her by his mother. It made Hao feel twice as terrible. Not only did he not want to be here, but nobody actually wanted him here either. At least judging by the way Ricky was behaving around him. He would never actively shut Hao out or be rude towards him, but Hao could sense that would’ve preferred it if Hao had not joined them for the summer.

So, when Ricky was out with his friends and his aunt was busy with her work, Hao remained all alone in that big empty farmhouse. And that would've been fine with him, if not for one problem. He could not play his violin.

He had tried that first day when Ricky had left him alone to hang out with Gyuvin. But as soon as he had reached for his case, his hands had started shaking. Memories of the incident haunted him, not only in his recent dreams. When he looked at his violin, all those ugly feelings crept up inside of him. The failure, the disappointment, the anger. The sadness.

His violin had always been his best friend, but the one time he tried to pick it up, his hands had trembled so wildly, he had almost dropped the instrument. Ever since, he had been too afraid to try again. So, his violin stayed locked away in its case. All his plans of using his time practicing out the window. It didn’t matter how determined Hao had been to not fall behind, to find back to his music this summer and improve so much he would become the best he had ever been. He couldn’t do it.

Now, he never felt more useless. He couldn't practice like he thought he could. He could not help around the farm much. He was not even fun to be around. He was a simple waste of space. He should have never come here. He didn't understand why his mother had forced this on him.

Sunday evening, Hao was helping clean up dinner when Ricky announced that he would be going out to see his friends. This time, he didn't even bother to ask Hao to come along. Hao couldn't blame him. If he were Ricky, receiving rejection after rejection to his invitations, he would also grow tired of asking. By now, even his aunt noticed the tension between both the boys.

Usually, this was the time of night where Hao would excuse himself to his room to stare at the ceiling, drowning in his too loud thoughts until sleep finally got to him. However, this evening when Hao made his way to the stairs, his aunt called him back.

"Have a cup of tea with me, my dear," she said, already pulling two cups out of the cupboard. Her own was a mug that looked like it had been painted on by Ricky when he was younger. ' mom <3 ' was written in bold letters over the porcelain. Hao frowned, somehow finding it very familiar. Then he remembered that he had gifted his own mother a similar cup years and years ago. Ricky and him had both drawn on them together back in the day, as a gift for mother's day.

Perhaps it hurt more than it should to see it now, a proof of their long forgotten bond. After all, it was Hao who had moved away and never bothered to visit again.

His aunt waved him over to the couch that looked worn out, having been very well loved over the years. Hao padded after her like the little lambs raised on the farms in town.

"It's been a while since I had a tea session with someone," she smiled at him, placing their tea on the little table in front of them. "Ricky used to love them for a while when he was younger. He was a real expert at tea flavors."

Hao managed a small smile. The picture of a young Ricky might be blurry, but he could picture him and his aunt sitting right where they were, dishing about their respective days.

Hao did not expect her next words.

"He really missed you when you moved away," his aunt spoke into her tea cup, before slurping a sip.

Hao turned his head to her, expression full of surprise. "Really?"

"Of course! Don't you remember how he followed you around everywhere? He really looked up to you," his aunt let him in on an open secret. But it had been a secret to Hao. He knew from his blurry recollection that Ricky and him had spent a lot of time together as kids, and had been quite close. But this was news to him.

It somehow only made him sadder. "He's grown up a lot. We both have. I guess things have changed."

Coming back here only made him more aware of how much he had missed. Sure, living in the city was fun and exciting. But seeing the place of his childhood summers and hardly recognizing it stung painfully.

His aunt hummed. "I think you're wrong. I think you both still have those little boys inside of you."

Hao chuckled, bittersweetly. "I'm not sure about that."

Back then, he had always wanted to grow up faster. Perhaps that had made him become an adult too soon.

"Be a little kinder to yourself, dear. This place is still your home. Just like it always used to be."

The words of his aunt lingered in Hao's head for a long time that night. There was no denying things had changed. He could not turn back time and smooth out what he had broken. But it was nice to know that at least one person still wanted him here.

The next day, both Ricky and him were tasked to clean out the stables. Hao had the dawning suspicion that this had something to do with the talk he and his aunt had yesterday, but she insisted that they would be much faster if they worked together.

So, Hao borrowed some old clothes from his cousin and stalked towards the stable in awkward silence.

The stables were used by all the surrounding farms. It was a community project, as most people out here made their money by farming and horses were not really profitable enough to maintain your own private stable. Ricky led the way towards the wooden hut.

A bucket and a pitchfork were pushed into his arms as Ricky opened the stable door.

"I'll start cleaning out the hay in the front and you go to the back, okay?" He instructed him and Hao nodded. He might not have worked on the farm for a long time, and he might not be the best at retrieving eggs, but even he was capable enough to clean out horseshit.

They worked in silence. Whatever his aunt's plan was, Hao thought it was failing miserably.

He had scrubbed out four boxes and was moving on to the fifth when he halted. This horse. It looked familiar.

Someone next to him snorted. "Remember her?"

Hao's gaze narrowed on the horse. The white socks, the dark brown fur. "Shingiru?"

Ricky hummed in confirmation. They had met in the middle of the stable, Ricky having been a little faster and more routined in cleaning out his boxes. His cousin moved into Shingiru's box, working around her.

Hao watched him wordlessly. Shingiru had been a foal when he had last been to the farm. He remembered her because her birth had been such a tragedy. Back then, Hao had spent every day in the stables, watching her regain her strength. He had even been allowed to name her, as everybody had seen how attached he had grown to the horse. His eyes watered a little as he now saw her standing in front of him, strong and healthy and adult. She had grown up well. Something Hao could not claim for himself.

He reached out an uncertain hand, happy when Shingiru let herself be patted by him.

"How has she been?" He asked, fascinated by this animal as he let his fingers wander through her mane. To be honest, he had never really been a fan of horses. They were big and frightening and Hao was a little jumpy anyway. But Shingiru had captured his heart back then and right now.

"Fine, obviously," Ricky grunted, throwing the old hay out. "The world doesn't stop spinning just because you're not here, you know."

Hao tore his eyes away from the horse to look at Ricky instead, who was avoiding his eyes. "I know," he said. "I know, I was just wondering. I haven't seen her for so long and she was so small and weak back then."

Ricky scoffed. "Well, if you hadn't left, you would've seen yourself how well she has been doing ever since."

He was not obvious in his words, but Hao heard the accusation all the same. It hurt, being called out like this, for something that had not really been in his control as a child.

Ricky shook his head dismissively at Hao's silence, finishing his work and heading out of Shingiru's box.

A thousand thoughts shot through Hao's head. A thousand things he should've said way, way earlier. None of them would come out.

"We have to put fresh hay into their boxes now," Ricky instructed him rather neutrally, all hints of his repressed anger vanished.

Hao followed him into the hay chamber. Ricky had already an arm full of hay, heading back to the boxes. It would've been easy to get back to work, forget about this, whatever it had been. But Hao didn't want that. He didn't like spending so much time alone. He didn't like that Ricky was so cold to him. He didn't like feeling like such an outsider in a place he used to call his second home.

His mother had been right. Hao hadn't been smiling for a long time. He couldn't remember the last time had been happy. But he had always been happy in this place. And it felt wrong feeling so empty now that he had returned.

He wasn't sure if Ricky had missed him, but Hao for sure had.

"Ricky," he called out. His cousin turned around to him. He raised an expecting eyebrow when Hao remained silent again. He took a deep breath. Time to fix some broken bridges. "I'm sorry."

Ricky frowned in confusion. He dropped his hay to the ground. "You're sorry?"

"I am. I'm sorry for leaving back then. I'm sorry for not saying goodbye properly. I'm sorry I never called you or visited. I didn't mean to leave you behind."

It felt good to say those words. They had worn on Hao's conscience for years. Even if Ricky wouldn't forgive him, at least his heart felt a little lighter for having apologized.

"You don't have to be sorry. It's not like you could've stayed here," Ricky said, and now it was Hao's turn to be confused.

"Aren't you mad at me for leaving?" Hao questioned.

Ricky shrugged. "I used to be. When I was younger. It almost felt like you thought we were beneath you. The only thing you used to talk about was finally going to the city."

Hao was stunned. Back then, there had been one major reason for their move to the city. Hao, practically attached to the violin since he had been old enough to stand, had gotten accepted into a prestigious program for musically gifted children. Because of that, his mother had uprooted their life, as always unconditionally supportive. They had moved out of the small suburb and into the heart of the city, so Hao could attend the violin academy of his dreams. He had been ten back then. Ten, when he had last spent a summer at the farm.

The acceptance letter had come that summer. Hao had been so excited, he had pinned it to the fridge in his aunt's kitchen and jumped around all day. He hadn't known that his excitement could've been perceived as arrogance. Truthfully, he had only been so excited because he was overcompensating for being so damn anxious about moving. Perhaps that letter had been the beginning of the end.

"I'm sorry," Hao apologized again, even though he was years too late. "I didn't mean it that way. I should've reached out to you sooner."

"I know that now. We were just kids," Ricky agreed. "I could've also reached out."

"No. It was my fault. I left. I am the older one. I should've reached out first," Hao insisted, because those were the facts. If he couldn't be good at emotions, he could at least be good at facts.

"Alright, alright. All is forgiven. It's been years, anyway," Ricky said.

Even though Ricky had said the words, Hao still didn't feel like they had reached a conclusion.

"I don't understand," he stated, furrowing his brows. "If that's not why you're upset, then why..."

Or had Hao been misreading the situation? He sometimes missed a few social cues, but usually he could tell quite well when someone didn't like him.

Ricky let out a long sigh. "I'm not upset. I'm just...it has nothing to do with you."

Apparently giving up on work for now, Ricky let his body sink on top of a big bale of hay. Hao watched as he slumped deeper in between the straws.

It was a rash decision, but at that moment it felt like the right thing to do. He dropped his body right next to Ricky. They stared at the dusty ceiling together in silence.

"It's just," Ricky muttered, having found the courage to open up. "You coming back here made me think of my own future. Like, you always had a plan, you moved to the city to pursue your dreams at ten years old. Meanwhile I was stuck here, not knowing what to do with my life."

Hao hummed in understanding. Many of his peers at university were unsure where their life was headed. It was not a concern he knew personally, always set on his goals, but he knew it was quite a common thing to experience.

"All my friends here seem to have everything figured out. And I spent all of last year at home, left behind," Ricky continued sharing his worries.

"You're not left behind," Hao consoled him. "You've barely been an adult for a year. Nobody expects you to know exactly where you want to go."

"Easy for you to say," Ricky muttered. “Your life is perfect.”

Hao had to hold back a laugh. Lately, his life had been far from perfect

 "Ricky, do you know why I am here?"

He heard the hay rustle as Ricky turned his head to look at him expectantly.

"I had a meltdown at an audition. You could even say I'm going through a minor mental health crisis," Hao opened up. It was only fair that Ricky knew, now that he had been honest as well. "So having a plan might not always be the better option. It's good that you're taking your time to figure yourself out."

To his utter surprise, he suddenly felt a hand reach for his own. It was almost like they were little kids again, holding hands when the night got too dark and the monsters under the bed too real. He squeezed Ricky's hand.

"Thanks," he heard Ricky whisper. "I'm sorry if I acted a little off. I was just stuck in my own head."

"It's okay," Hao comforted him. He had dealt with much worse. People at solo auditions could be quite nasty.

"I also did not help that you turned me down every chance you got," Ricky pointed out, which was fair.

Hao pouted, but couldn't stop the smile spreading. "Fine. I just didn't want to intrude into your friend group."

Ricky snorted. "You're not intruding. Actually, Hanbin has been asking about you. You must've left quite the first impression."

Hao groaned, wanting to disappear in the hay forever.

Ricky laughed, before jumping back up to his feet. He pulled Hao up by their linked hands.

"Come on. You can feed Shingiru some carrots after we're done with the hay," Ricky told him, clapping into his hands motivationally.

Hao grinned. Although he knew his body would hurt tomorrow from all the physical labor, he felt like he had just passed the first hurdle. The sky didn't look so gray anymore.

The next day, when Ricky invited him out for a campfire, Hao accepted the invite. His aunt winked at him when he followed Ricky outside after dinner. Maybe Hao should give her credit for this development after all.

Still, he was feeling a bit nervous as he walked down the streets with Ricky. His track record of first impressions was not the best. He couldn't remember the last time he had actively tried to become friends with someone. Lately, everything he had done was lock himself into his practice room and play until his fingers were short of bleeding. In that regard, it might be understandable that he had gotten a little socially anxious.

When he voiced his concerns to Ricky, his cousin only rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. My friends are all cool."

It did not calm Hao's nerves in the slightest. "Could you at least give me a short briefing? So I don't totally humiliate myself? Again?"

Maybe Ricky was right and he was being dramatic, but if these were the people he would spend his entire summer with, he did not want to start off on the wrong foot.

"Okay, okay," Ricky gave in. "So, you already know Hanbin."

Yeah, unfortunately , Hao agreed, but in his head only.

"Then there is his brother, Gyuvin. He's my age. They both moved here a few years ago. Probably around the same time Matthew did. You might remember Taerae and Jiwoong, they've been living in town back then, too. And the place we're having the campfire at is Gunwook's and Yujin's. I don't think you would remember them, they were quite young then..."

There were already way too many names. Maybe he should not have asked for any information after all, because his head was still buzzing when Ricky pulled him into a yard across the street. They crossed a small field until they reached a small formation of rocks, in the middle of which a fire was already burning.

A few people had already gathered there. Hao's feet stopped moving, but Ricky was not having it. He put a hand on his back and pushed him forward.

"Hey guys, this is Hao, my cousin," Ricky introduced him without any pomp and circumstances.

Hao waved awkwardly, forcing a stiff smile on his face. "Hi."

"Hao?" The guy closest to him spoke up first. "I'm Jiwoong. Don't know if you remember me."

Hao for certain did not remember Jiwoong being this handsome. In fact, all his memories of a boy called Jiwoong were of him being older and therefore cooler than him. Looking at him now, that still seemed to be the case. Much like Ricky, Jiwoong was styled nicely for this rather casual occasion, his black hair neatly combed out of his face. Although his fashion sense was a little less out there than Ricky's, he looked stylish in a way Hao never could have.

"Yeah, no, honestly, I'm not quite sure I remember much," Hao admitted honestly. Luckily, Jiwoong laughed lightly at his confession.

"That's fine. It's been over ten years. I hope we get to catch up some time," Jiwoong said and Hao nodded, slightly overwhelmed. His social battery was already waning and so far only one person had introduced himself.

"I'm Matthew! I'm sure we haven't met before, but it's so cool that you're here the entire summer! I bet we'll have lots of fun, has Ricky already shown you around, or do you still remember the town, you probably don't, so if you need someone to-"

"Matthew, breathe," Jiwoong interrupted who Hao now knew was Matthew.

Matthew grinned apologetically. "Sorry, just excited to meet you!"

Matthew seemed...friendly. At least his tendency to talk would match well with Hao's tendency to listen.

Hao smiled, it already felt a little easier. So far, so good.

Two young boys returned to the fire with woods gathered in their arms. They introduced themselves as tonight's hosts, Gunwook and Yujin, step-brothers. While Gunwook had grown up on the farm, Yujin and his mother had only joined them a few years ago, after a big town wedding. Hao instantly took a liking to them. The urge to squish their cheeks was strong, but he could control himself. For now.

After Yujin and Gunwook unloaded the wood, maintaining the flame of the fire, they sat down on the few rocks that served as seats around the fireplace. 

When Hao was just starting to feel a little more settled, all names matched to faces, three more people entered the scene. Well, at least he was already familiar with one of them.

"We brought the dough!" A tall, lanky boy yelled, holding a plastic bag over his head as he hurried towards his friends.

The other two followed him a lot more mellowly. The guy next to Hanbin was carrying a guitar around his back, making Hao look at him full of interest. A fellow musician, perhaps?

"Calm down or all the dough is gonna end up inedible on the ground," Ricky scolded the first boy. Without having to do much concluding, Hao had a feeling that this must be Gyuvin. The one who Ricky claimed to be his best friend. They made an odd pair.

"Hao!" His name was suddenly called, making Hao shriek and almost slip down his rock.

He had been sitting alone thus far, but now there was a warm presence joining his side, sliding so close their thighs were pressing against each other.

Hanbin grinned at him. "You came!"

Hao stared at him for a moment too long. Out of his farmboy attire, Hanbin looked...different. He was not dressed up like Ricky or Jiwoong were, but the simple combination of a white t-shirt and jeans was working wonders for him. The constellation of tattoos was visible again, proudly stitched across his chest.

Hao gulped, flustered. "Y-yeah. Ricky invited me. I hope that's okay."

"Sure it is," Hanbin smiled, playfully nudging his side. "Have the chickens been giving you trouble lately?"

Hao glared at him. He might be the outsider in this friend group, but he would not let himself be messed with so easily. "If you don't let that go, a lot more than chickens will be giving you trouble."

Hanbin did not need to know that Hao had come up with excuses whenever his aunt asked him to fetch the eggs.

"Ouuhh, Hanbin, careful," someone cackled, joining Hao's other side.

It was the guy with the guitar. Up close, he looked vaguely familiar.

"I'm Taerae," guitar guy introduced himself, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. "I think we tried to dye a sheep blue once."

A light went on in Hao's head. The picture of a boy with dimples and a trouble-seeking nature became a little less blurry.

"Right, I remember," Hao said, giggling slightly at the memory. "I don't even know why we tried to do that."

"Honestly, me neither," Taerae laughed softly, reminiscing about their forgotten childhood.

The group worked well together. It was obvious that they had spent years with each other, working out all the kinks in their bond and now being able to just comfortably enjoy the company of one another. Hao watched the friends tease and joke around with a queasy feeling in his stomach, one that he couldn't quite place. But it felt like sadness.

Nights could get quite fresh in the countryside, despite summer heating up the days. Hao was glad for the strong campfire warming him. Being more than content drifting into the background, Hao startled slightly when Hanbin suddenly addressed him.

"You know how to do twist bread?" Hanbin asked him, reaching for the bag of dough Gyuvin had carried earlier. Hao had wondered what had been up with that.

Faint memories of campfires swirled around in his head.

He pouted. "Maybe as a kid. But I can't really remember."

Hanbin laughed sweetly. "Don't worry. I'll show you."

With practiced movements, he reached for a long stick, wrapping one end with aluminum foil before putting some of the dough around it. Then he held it out into the fire, basically using it as an open oven. Hao watched as Hanbin expertly rotated his stick, until all sides of the dough were turned a golden brown.

With a satisfied grin, Hanbin retracted his stick. He waited a moment for it to cool down, before he pointed it in Hao's direction.

"Try it. It's delicious," Hanbin prompted him, eyes sparkling with joy.

Hao looked at him warily, his stomach shifting uncomfortably. Carefully, he ripped a piece of the bread from the stick. It was still steaming hot as he placed it into his mouth.

He chewed slowly. The bread was perfectly fluffy on the inside and slightly crispy on the outside, warm and soft and absolutely delicious.

He swallowed his bite. "It's good."

Hanbin's smile got impossibly wider as he tried a piece for himself. Then Gyuvin and Gunwook both called out for him, demanding their own piece of dough, which Hanbin handed over with laughter.

The weird tightness in Hao's chest made room for something else. Something warmer. The group fitted together well. Strangely, Hao found himself fitting right in. Even though he mostly remained silent for the rest of the evening, munching on the pieces of bread Hanbin shared with him, he felt welcome here. There was no need to prove himself, to be the best, the nicest, the funniest. He could just be and nobody would call him out for it, for being too quiet, too little. He could simply sit there, listen to Taerae strum his guitar, and he felt no need to change anything.

When Hao and Ricky walked home late into the night, only ashes remaining of the fire, a weird sense of freedom overcame Hao. Like here, in the middle of nowhere, he could learn how to breathe again. His mother had been right. He didn't smile anymore. Not like he used to.

He linked his arms with Ricky and together they laughed into the night, stars sparkling above their heads, proof of endless freedom beyond their imagination.

Hao's routine changed a little after that night. While before, he and Ricky had been tasked with different duties, now they usually worked on everything together. Hao helped Ricky out with his daily tasks and vice versa, leading to both of them being done much earlier with their work. With most of their afternoon now being free to use however they wanted to, they mostly strolled into town. Some days, they would end up at one of Ricky's friends' places, who had quickly warmed up to Hao and the fact that he was now tagging along wherever Ricky went. Most days, however, Ricky would head straight towards the small cafe he had shown Hao on his first day here.

Cafe Ludia was a hotspot for the little friend group, not only because two of them worked there. The place was also cozy, inviting everyone to just lounge around. It was not everyday that all nine of them got together, since they all still had their own life to live. But at least once a week they would gather together for a campfire, a tradition that, as Hao learned, had started years and years ago, and that now he was becoming a part of.

Overall, Hao was having a much more positive view on his stay here. Even the smell of manure didn't bother him as much anymore.

There was only one thing that hadn't changed. 

He hadn't touched his violin after that first failed attempt. He didn't dare to. Somehow, he found himself afraid of playing it. Afraid of what exactly, he wasn't sure. Failure? Another mental breakdown? All he was sure of was the fear. And so the violin stayed hidden in its case.

One morning, Hao came down the stairs to find Ricky and his aunt already at the breakfast table. The smell of fresh pancakes and herbal tea reached Hao's nose. With a grumbling stomach, he slid into his usual seat at the table, opposite of Ricky, who was devouring a giant mountain of strawberries on top of his pancakes.

"Hao," his aunt sighed, creases formed on her forehead. Hao knew that tone. It was for when she had bad news. He stopped in his movement to retrieve his own pancake.

"Yes?" He asked, anxiously. The last time she had used that tone was when the sheep had somehow escaped the fields and they had spent the entire day looking for them.

"I'm sorry it happened this way, but it looks like you'll have to spend some of your time here on your own. Harvest is at its peak right now, so I'll have to be out there everyday from now on. And someone," his aunt gave Ricky a very pointed look, who just innocently chewed his strawberries. "- just remembered that his portfolio for his fashion course is due in three weeks and that he hasn't started yet."

Ricky did not look as concerned as his mother about that. "I'll get it done in time, I promise. I already have it all in my mind."

"Well, good that you have it on your mind. But if I remember correctly, the university wants a thirty page sketch book and one handmade piece, otherwise they'll reconsider your early admission," his aunt reminded her son.

Now Ricky looked a bit more guilty. He gave Hao an apologetic grin. "Yeah, sorry, I think I'll be busy for the next three weeks."

"It's fine," Hao quickly said, although feeling a bit sad. Ricky and him had gotten along so well these past week, hanging around each other almost the entire time. "I'll find something to do on my own."

His thoughts rushed to his violin, before he quickly shut them down.

"Actually," his aunt chimed in, her smile now also a bit guilty. "I thought of something that needs to be done. If you wouldn't mind."

Of course. There was always work that needed to be done on the farm.

That's how Hao ended up in front of the chicken barn once again. He had walked a big circle around there since the chickens had declared war on him. Luckily, Ricky hadn't needed much convincing to collect the eggs for him. Hao sighed. This task would take much longer than simply retrieving some eggs, which was actually not simple at all.

The chicken barn was quite old and brittle. In other words, it was in dire need of renovation. How fortunate Hao suddenly had a lot of freetime on his hands. Yes. Hao would be in charge of the renovation project. Flipping a chicken barn had certainly not been high on his wish list. But it was hard to say no to his aunt, especially over her delicious breakfast pancakes.

So, while Ricky retreated to his room to start working on his portfolio, Hao put on his boots, and a thick pair of rubber gloves, just in case the chicken would try to eat him again, and headed for the place of his nightmares.

Now, Hao was no engineer, he might not even be the most handy when it came to crafts, but he was smart. Exchanging some old wooden planks with new ones couldn't be too hard. Right?

He walked around the barn three times, assessing the areas that needed the most fixing. He knocked against the wood. Yep, this one sounded particularly frail, definitely needed replacing.

"Are you waiting for them to let you in?"

A voice made him startle around. Hanbin was standing behind him, carrying a toolbox in one arm. He was clad in his overalls again, a sight that Hao hadn't really seen ever since Hanbin had first found him in this very place. Usually, Hanbin was working as a barista in the cafe when they met, in a neat white shirt and jeans. His get-up meant that today Hanbin had other work to do, often helping out on the surrounding farms to earn some extra money when his mother could excuse him.

"I don't think polite knocking will get you far with them," Hanbin teased him, putting his toolbox down.

Hao pouted, then he decided to play along. "Well, one of us had to make the first effort."

"Yeah? And how's that been working out so far?" Hanbin asked him, raising his eyebrows with amusement.

"Great, actually. Now they deliver their eggs straight to me whenever I come," Hao boasted, making Hanbin laugh. He felt a sense of pride rise in him for being the reason for that laughter. "So, what are you doing here disturbing our private bonding time? Stealing eggs again?"

Hanbin pointed to the toolbox. "Your aunt asked me to renovate the stall."

"She asked me to do that!" Hao gasped. He couldn't believe his aunt didn't trust him to do this all on his own. On the other hand...she must've noticed that Hao was not the greatest fan of chickens by the way he had avoided the barn at all costs.

"Well, guess we're working together then," Hanbin simply shrugged, like it was not a big deal.

Maybe it wasn't a big deal to him, but Hao had been through his fair share of group assignments that ended up stressing him out like nothing else. That's why he liked to play solos. Nobody to rely on but himself.

He gave Hanbin a onceover. On the other hand, in this case Hao was probably the less prepared group member. Couldn't hurt to give this a try.

"Okay," he agreed with a firm nod, before turning back to the wooden planks. "This one needs to be replaced."

Hanbin was smirking again when Hao looked at him for his input on the project. He was always smirking when Hao was around, whether that be at the cafe or at the campfires, like Hao's presence alone was amusing to him.

"You plan to do that with your hands?" Hanbin questioned, pointing out the lack of Hao's own toolbox.

Right. Hao might've forgotten about that.

Still, not wanting to reveal himself as the weaker link of this group, he pouted, stubborn as he was. "Yes."

Hanbin snorted, clearly not believing him.

Well, watch him then! Hao might not be a gym rat, but he was not as weak as Hanbin seemed to believe!

With all his might, he began ripping at the plank he had pointed out earlier.

"Hao, wait-"

"No, I can do this!" Hao pressed out between his lips, now more than eager to prove himself.

"No, Hao, I mean-"

Adding his feet to this maneuver, Hao finally managed to remove the plank from the hut. He stumbled back, hitting Hanbin's chest, who steadied him before he could hit the ground.

However, before Hao could dwell in his victory, the sound of chicken squeaking distracted him.

His eyes widened as he realized what he had done- He had freed the chicken! The barn now had a hole right at the side where the plank had been.

Hanbin sighed. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

There was no pretending left anymore. Hao had demonstrated just how unfitting he was for this task. The only thing left for him to do was to apologize. "I'm so sorry."

Hanbin chuckled, taking the old wooden plank out of Hao's hands to put it back in its place before any more chicken could escape.

"It's alright, they never run far. We'll put this back up and then catch them," he remained calm, which was good as Hao felt panic rise inside of him as he watched three chickens stray across the yard.

"A-alright," Hao agreed, fumbling with his hands, not sure what to do with them.

Hanbin grinned at him. "Can you hand me some nails and a hammer? They're in my toolbox," he asked him and Hao was happy to make himself useful. "You know what a hammer and nails look like, right, cityboy?"

Hao scoffed. He might not be the most handy person but he was not totally inane.

Glowering, he handed the requested items to Hanbin, who didn't hesitate to get to work. In no time, the barn was as good as new. Well, as good as before.

In comparison to that, catching the chickens felt like a much harder thing to achieve.

Hanbin wiped his hands off on his overalls, assessing the situation. "We have to relocate them temporarily anyway. I'll just ask the neighbors if we can put them in their stable for the time being. I know they don’t use it anymore."

Hao nodded, watching as Hanbin jogged across the farm only to disappear behind the corner of the next farmhouse. Left alone, Hao was hit with the full force of humiliation. Hanbin really must think Hao was a hopeless idiot. He hid his face in his hands, groaning in misery. He ripped at his hair, before exhaling a sigh.

Well, no more of that! From now on, Hao would do his best to not make this harder on Hanbin! If he wasn't the most handy, he would make up for that by being the most hardworking! If there was one thing Hao knew how to do, it was to persevere.

With that in mind, he felt a new energy resurge through him once Hanbin returned with the message that they could leave the chickens with the neighbor.

He practically felt the fire seep through his body, more than motivated as they chased the chickens across the farm.

Hanbin kept laughing at him whenever Hao would scream and squeal, but at least he did not need to step in another time to clean up his mess. One after the other they managed to transport the chickens.

At the end of it all, Hao's body and mind felt fully sore. He would hear chickens scream in his dreams tonight, he knew it. Left without any strength, Hao had dropped his body to the ground in front of the barn, back resting against the door.

Hanbin, coming back from the last trip to the neighbor, spotted him from afar, that everlasting grin plastered on his face. Hao liked it a lot more knowing it was not directed at his incompetence.

Still, it surprised him when Hanbin settled down by his side, their legs bumping into each other.

"Good job, cityboy," Hanbin complimented him, and - sue him, Hao had always been a sucker for praise. "Didn't know you had it in you."

Hao puffed out his chest. "Well, I did use to live here, you know?"

"And every day I become sadder that I didn't get to know you back then," Hanbin smiled, this one a lot less teasing than most of them. He playfully nudged his knee against Hao's.

Hao didn't know what to say, not sure if Hanbin was being serious or joking. Probably joking. Hanbin was always joking, good at making people feel happy and comfortable around him.

"Anyway," Hanbin cleared his throat, getting back up to his feet. "I have to get back to the cafe. I'll see you tomorrow, same time, same place?"

Hao couldn't blink so fast Hanbin had disappeared. One second he was next to him, smirking, the next he was gone, jumping over the fence on his way back home.

Hao huffed to himself. He didn't quite get Hanbin. So far, all their interactions had been brief and in the context of a group hangout. It had always been perfectly pleasant and polite, just like all of Ricky's friends had been to him. Being alone with Hanbin was different, and he didn't understand why that was, yet. But he supposed they would be spending a lot of time together going forward, so there would be lots of opportunities for him to learn.

For now, he deserved a shower, though.