Work Text:
‘And you’re absolutely sure I’m not going to be a nuisance?’
Bin leans his head against Dongmin’s shoulder. It’s half past midnight and the lights in the cabin are low. Dongmin presses a fleeting kiss to Bin’s temple.
‘I swear you’re not going to be a nuisance. Doña Paula insisted on you coming too.’
‘But I don’t speak Spanish.’ Under the blanket, Bin snuggles closer. ‘How’s that gonna work?’
‘You do, a little. And both Doña Paula and Don Jorge speak some English - you’ll be fine, honestly. It’s Christmas. There will be family; their nephews, nieces, the younger ones - it’s gonna be ok.’
‘Says you who speak five languages like a native,’ huffs Bin.
Dongmin laces their fingers together. ‘Stop worrying. You’ll love it.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I know.’
…………………….
The car is climbing higher and higher up a narrow street, slowing down to avoid motorcycles weaving past, giggling children trying to outrun them, and stray dogs.
Bin cranes his neck to look out of the window. ‘You said we will be there soon? But this looks like we’re leaving the village. Are we going to end up somewhere up in the mountains?’
Dongmin laughs. ‘Nearly there.’ The steering wheel slides in his hands as he runs over a pothole.
‘Jeez,’ Bin winces. ‘I thought - not sure what I thought - but -’
‘I know,’ Dongmin reaches over and squeezes his knee. ‘Emilio wanted them to move to Bogotá, even found a nice place for them, but they didn’t want to leave. The whole family lives around here - they said they were too old to start somewhere new. Anyway, you’ll love it. Ah, here we are.’
He pulls to the kerb in front of an unassuming house; the moment he kills the engine, the front door swings open. Doña Paula runs out to greet them, her arms spread wide.
‘Cariño!’
Her small, bony body feels fragile in his arms, like a bird. Dongmin closes his eyes, inhaling the smell of cinnamon and vanilla.
‘It’s good to be back, Doña Paula.’
‘Let me look at you properly,’ Doña Paula steps back and holds him at arms’ length. ‘You’ve grown more handsome since you were here last time. But you’re still too thin,’ her wrinkled face beams.
‘We need to fatten you up, son.’
Don Jorge emerges from the house. He is leaning heavily on his walking stick but his handshake is strong. ‘Welcome back. And who might this be?’
Dongmin’s face burns.
‘This is Binnie.’
Bin shakes Jorge’s hand and offers Paula a sweet, awkward bow. They both shower him with questions about their journey, in a mix of Spanish and English, while ushering them inside. Bin does his best to answer. Dongmin basks in the glow of their attention.
‘Leave it here, cariño,’ Paula takes one of the suitcases from Dongmin’s hand. ‘Antonio - you remember him, Laura’s son - is coming. He can help carry everything upstairs.’
Dongmin laughs, embarrassed. ‘I can carry my own suitcase.’
‘You both are our guests and need to eat after such a long journey; it’s time for lunch,’ Paula swats at his arm. ‘Go, go.’
Dongmin follows Jorge who is already ushering Bin into the kitchen.
‘Oh, that smells good. Is it what I think it is?’
‘Yes, it is. I know you like my sancocho.’
Dongmin laughs. ‘I love you, Doña Paula.’
Paula’s cheeks glow the faintest shade of pink and she gives them a push towards the table. ‘Quick, sit down. You both must be starving. After, you can have a little rest, and tonight we're going to María’s house; we always go there for Christmas Eve. The girls got terribly excited when I told them you were coming for Christmas.’
‘Who’s María?’ whispers Bin. ‘And the girls?’
Dongmin leans closer. ‘María is Jorge’s niece; she has two daughters, twins, Ana and Gabriela; they are twenty.’
‘Twenty and silly,’ Doña Paula shakes her head in disapproval. ‘They have rather - how do you say it in English - got their knickers in a twist when they heard there’s two of you coming this time. Asked me if it’s true that you’re bringing another model with you; and if he’s free. I said he might be a model too but they should leave him well alone; that he is your - ‘ she waves her arms around, looking for the right word. ‘El es tu novio!’
She pats Bin’s hand, chuckling, ‘Don’t worry, son. I’ve told them to keep their fingers off you.’
Bin giggles. Dongmin ducks his head and quickly shoves another spoonful in his mouth to hide his smile.
………………….
The long dining table in María’s house is laden with food, and yet, the women are bringing more bowls and trays from the kitchen.
‘Oh, this looks nice,’ Bin eagerly leans forward as Gabriela sets a heavy platter in front of him.
She giggles. ‘It’s chuleta. Pork. Help yourself.’
‘Thank you,’ Bin smiles sweetly and immediately reaches for the serving spoon.
Dongmin snickers, giving him a sneaky kick under the table. ‘Stop looking so damn cute. They're all dreaming of feeding you and having your babies, no matter how often Doña Paula tells them you are my boyfriend.’
‘Don’t be dramatic,’ Bin piles three cutlets on his already overflowing plate. ‘You’re just jealous because it’s me who’s getting served the best bits now, not you.’
‘Oh, no, Binnie,’ Dongmin lowers his voice. ‘I’ll get served the best bit after all. After this dinner, and presents, and all that, when we get back to Doña Paula’s, I’ll get served the best bit - you.’
Bin giggles. ‘Would you dare, under her roof?’
‘Well,’ Dongmin feels his face burn. ‘If we’re really quiet -’
‘Son!’ Jorge appears at Bin’s elbow, a bottle in his hand. ‘Your glass is empty, and so is Dongmin’s. That won’t do.’
He pours Bin and Dongmin a shot each. ‘Salud.’
‘Don Jorge!’ Bin beams and raises his glass. ‘Salud!’
Dongmin laughs and kicks him under the table again. ‘Your Spanish is improving after every shot.’
Bin kicks him back. ‘You jealous?’
………………..
It’s two o’clock in the morning when María rises from her seat at the head of the table. ‘Ana, Gabriela!’
The girls start clearing the table, collecting empty plates and trays.
‘What’s next?’ whispers Bin.
Dongmin squeezes his hand under the table. ‘Are you not full yet?’
Doña Paula smiles mysteriously. ‘I rather hope Binnie is not full, cariño. It’s time for dessert.’
‘Oh,’ Bin perks up. ‘More buñuelos?’
Doña Paula laughs at his unbridled excitement. ‘Torta de pastores.’
‘You have no idea.’ From across the table, Antonio smacks his lips. ‘It’s Doña Paula’s speciality.’
‘But you can have more buñuelos if you like,’ says Gabriela quickly.
Doña Paula exchanges a smirk with Dongmin, then lightly touches his arm. ‘Come help me, cariño?’
………………
The large cake is on a stand; Doña Paula is carefully dusting it with icing sugar. Dongmin is rummaging in one of the kitchen cupboards, getting another bottle of aguardiente.
‘How are you, cariño?’
Dongmin straightens, bottle in hand. He frowns. ‘What do you mean, Doña Paula?’
The old woman gently wipes the excess sugar from the edges of the cake stand. ‘You seem a lot better than last time. Are you doing well? Are you - are you alright now?’
‘Oh,’ Dongmin squirms a little. ‘I - I am. Much better. Much, much better.’
‘Y el novio?’
Dongmin follows her gaze, back to the living room. Antonio, having swapped seats, is next to Bin, showing him something on his phone; they are both laughing hard.
‘What about him?’
Doña Paula puts down the cloth and leans against the table. She takes a deep breath. ‘He seems like a lovely boy; he really does, but - is he good to you? Treating you well?’
‘He is,’ Dongmin smiles gently. ‘He is the best.’
‘Not with you for the money?’
‘Oh, no,’ Dongmin chuckles. ‘We met before I started modelling. I was skint; had absolutely nothing. And yet, he liked me. Still can’t believe he stayed with me after -‘
He catches himself just in time. ‘Anyway, he joined the same agency shortly after I did - so there is no need to worry about that - he’s certainly not in it for my money. He’s just - him. He’s wonderful; I don’t deserve him.’
‘Oh, but you do. You do, carinõ,’ Paula pats his arm. ‘It doesn’t matter what we’ve done before. We repent and move on. God forgives, you see.’
Dongmin freezes.
Doña Paula smiles at him, her knowing gaze boring into the very core of his soul. ‘Don’t worry, cariño. You’re a good person.’
‘No, I’m not. I’m -’
She shakes her head. ‘I don’t want to hear any more of that. You’re happy and I like seeing you happy.’
She walks over to one of the glass cabinets and opens it. From the upper shelf, she takes a photo of Emilio in a thin golden frame. Her fingers shake as she gently traces the outlines of his face.
‘Mijo,’ her voice trembles. She looks up. ‘He would be happy for you, you know. Happy to see his friend doing well.’
Dongmin’s throat closes up. He tears his eyes away from the photo. It’s a graduation picture; a fresher, more innocent version of Emilio than he remembers, younger perhaps by five years; his smile untouched by the years to come.
He blinks to chase away tears that are starting to well up in his eyes. ‘He was the first one who thought me a better person than I was. No one ever saw me like that before Binnie. Only Emilio. He was a true friend; I do miss him, still.’
He steps closer, wrapping one arm around Doña Paula’s shoulders. ‘I wish he was still here. I wish I could tell him about Binnie, I wish - ‘
‘I know, cariño,’ Doña Paula quickly dabs at her eyes and puts the picture back on the shelf. She closes the cabinet door. ‘I know. But we should go back now. Everyone is waiting for dessert. And I can hear the boys have put the music on - I think Antonio wanted to teach Binnie to dance salsa.’
…………………
‘How was it?’
Dongmin buries his nose in Bin’s hair and pulls him closer. Bin’s smooth skin, wonderfully bare under the sheets, is warm. He greedily runs his hands up and down Bin’s back.
Bin giggles, ‘I had an amazing time.’ He snuggles onto Dongmin’s chest. ‘Everyone’s been really nice. I’ve eaten so much I think I’m bursting. And the dancing was great.’
‘See? I told you you would love it.’
They lie in silence. Behind the curtains, the village is still shrouded in inky darkness but they only have a couple of hours to recover from last night; the dawn will break soon.
The desire is there, the pull to want more, to drown in Bin’s scent, in the velvety warmth of Bin’s skin, yet he lies motionless, pressing Bin against his heart.
‘Do you remember,’ he says slowly, ‘how I planned to wipe Doña Paula and Don Jorge’s memory and pretend to be their son?’
‘Yes, I do,’ whispers Bin.
‘I’m glad I didn’t do it.’
Bin presses a kiss against his sternum. ‘I’m really glad you didn’t. Because what you have now is different, right?’
‘It’s real.’
Bin looks up. His smile is sleepy, sweet. ‘They love the real you. There’s nothing better than that. Nothing matters more.'
Dongmin hugs him tighter. ‘Do you love me? Despite knowing who I was?
Bin’s smile turns wider. ‘Maybe I love you because of that.’
Dongmin kisses Bin’s temple. ‘Merry Christmas, Binnie.’
‘Merry Christmas, Min.’