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He hadn't said anything the whole walk home and that was a little difficult. Honestly, you didn't blame him. You had known this would happen, had tried to prevent it or scale it down. You'd wanted him to meet your family (if he absolutely had to, like, three hours before your wedding) in a controlled and small group. You knew what they would think, it was the same kinds of things they'd said to you when you'd told them you'd started to learn Korean, when you were looking to study overseas, move to Korea for training in your field. But he'd desperately wanted to go for a major family event, wanted to meet and get to know everyone, even if he struggled with English. Your suggestion of just going to his family's for the holiday had been overridden.
He stopped at the base of your sister's apartment, where the two of you were staying while you were back home, and he just sat down on the steps, chestnut fringe falling into his eye as he looked off at nothing. You could practically hear the off-handed, thoughtless comments cycling around in his head. He may not speak English particularly well, but through the year spent in your company, he understood it pretty well and knew exactly what they were saying, trapped and unable to respond without using you as a translator, which would take the bite out of the insult somewhat.
You sat down just behind him, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. It seemed to shake him out of it enough for him to glance back, able to make out the edge of you coat before he looked back out onto the empty street. This was a college neighbourhood and just past midnight on New Years. No one was going to be here that didn't leave nearby and the only reason your sister had given you her keys and access to her home was because she was the first (and only) family member to know about Chanyeol before you brought him home and her sympathy outweighed her privacy.
"Your parents don't like me because I'm Asian, do they?" He said, voice flat and blunt, back in his native Korean.
"Pretty much." Was all you could say. You'd both heard the comments, there wasn't much else to add. You felt guilty, and you knew he felt bad for making a bad impression on your folks. "Don't worry about my parents."
"How can I not?" He murmured back, deep voice given new gravel from the emotion rubbing his voice raw. "They're your parents. Mine loved you - was I just not good enough?"
You sighed heavily. "Unless your race miraculously changed, they would never give you the time of day." You slid down the step, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing what was exposed of his neck. "They will never give you the chance to make a good impression. Never. Whether they know it or not, they're racist. It has nothing to do with you. It has nothing to do with how happy you make me, how much I love you. They don't care about that because your skin colour is different from theirs."
He huffed an insincere laugh. "How come you turned out so level headed?"
You shrugged, tightening your arms. "I grew up in a different time, I guess, around different people and ideas."
You felt him swallow. "Would you break up with me if they told you to?"
You bumped his head with yours and nosed at his jaw, blowing along a sensitive section of his neck to get him to giggle. "Fuck, Yeol, I moved to Korea even though they didn't want me to. I still live there. You think their opinions affect me that much anymore? At all? No. I've made my choice. They can either accept it and keep their mouths shut, or we just don't see them again. Either way if fine by me. Only my siblings are really worth seeing anyway. And they'll fly to us. You know my sister has a massive crush on Jongdae and would die if you invited him over while she's visiting."
He chuckled, more genuine this time, and leaned back into you. "Well, we do have to repay her for loaning us her apartment."
"Exactly. She can fly fourteen hours. You fly enough and I'm starting to miss kimchi already." You nosed him again and he smiled. "C'mon. Let's go inside before the temperature drops anymore and those luscious buns of yours freeze off."
His smile turned into a cheeky grin. "Oh, I think I know what we can do. Hope your sister's neighbours are out . . . "
"Are you sure you really want to do this?" You asked, nervously checking your watch and making sure your car keys were in your pocket so your aunts couldn't persuade you into drinking (despite the fact that it would be a welcome distraction and make the whole event less catastrophic) and your asshole cousins couldn't take your rented Mercedes for a test drive.
Chanyeol beamed at you, a light and enthusiam in his face that made you cringe thinking about watching it vanish as the night progressed. "Absolutely. Let's go."
You knocked on the door and your sister, having been forewarned of your arrival for damage-control's sake, almost immediately opened the door. She beamed at both of you and lead you in, stopping just short of the living room where racious laughter and glass clinking was already taking place. "Hey guys. Let me take your coats." She beamed at Chanyeol and shook his hand. "Nice to see you again, buddy."
He beamed and did a small bow. "You too."
"Your pronunciation's gotten better." She winked at you. "Taking lessons from this dork?"
Chanyeol laughed. "My dork is, ah, good teacher."
You cleared your throat. "Anyway, moving on. What's the damage assessment?"
She sobered up. "Literally everyone is here. They all want to meet this new boyfriend of yours and have been grilling me since I got here over what he looks like, what he does, all that shit. I didn't know if you wanted me to say anything, so I just kept my mouth shut."
"Good. Thank you. Didn't want them to start talking before we even got here." You gave her a hug and the way she hugged you back told you that this was going to be a long night.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, Chanyeol?" You asked again, nervousness lighting up your stomach as your keys dug into your thigh.
He cocked his head, still smiling. "Of course I am. Why do you keep asking? They can't be as bas as you say."
You could have kissed him for his naivety, but you knew he wouldn't want to seem improper and would keep that kind of PDA on the minimum. "Can you do me a favour, sis?"
She looked back at you from the overflowing coat rack. "What do you need?"
"Can you go tell them we're here?"
She nodded and left the room. From the other side of the wall, you could hear her powerful voice over the white noise of too many conversations. "Hey Mom, Dad. Did you call for an import?"
"What?" You could hear your father say and the other family (if you could call them that outside of the geneological obligation) quieted down.
"My Koreaboo sibling is in the foyer."
You took Chanyeol's hand. "Try not to take what they say personally. They're . . . different from me and my siblings."
"If they're responsible for someone as wonderful as you, then how can they be bad?" His confidence was at once soothing and disquieting, because you knew what was coming.
They rounded the corner and met your gaze, warm smiles on their faces which gained an ugly twist when they noticed Chanyeol.
"You're home." Your mother said, tone having fallen a little too flat for your liking.
You took a deep breath. "Yeah. He wanted to meet the family."
"And who is he?" Your father demanded, making the independant in you shrink up and hiss defensively, almost instantly angry that he would think he has any choice in who you date. But you maintained the decorum you'd been taught and smiled as tightly as you could manage without sneering.
"This is my boyfriend, Chanyeol."
"You're dating a Chinaman?" Your aunt called from the living room, stomping over and taking as close a look at him as she could while smelling that strongly of alcohol.
"He's Korean." You replied brisquely. "I live in Korea, not China."
"Same difference." She dismissed.
"Big difference, actually." You sister, miracle that she was, interjected as she came in with a drink for Chanyeol, who took it silently and a with a nod of gratitiude. "Don't mean to harsh you, Auntie, but Korea's actually closer to Japan than China. And no, he's not from North Korea and no, he doesn't know anyone from there."
Your aunt huffed. "I wasn't going to ask that." She pushed between your parents, coming up and inspecting him like he was some prize winning stallion she was considering buying. "What I was going to say is that I didn't know Asians came this tall. Is it a genetic fluke?"
"There are actually quite a few of them that are tall." You replied. "Yifan, Sehun, Jongin, Zitao, they're all as tall or taller than Chanyeol."
"I don't know how you remember all of those ching-chong words." Your aunt muttered, apparently losing interest. "It's just nice to know you're back in a proper country."
Chanyeol's eyes flickered down to you and you could already see his confidence draining away. I told you so was on your tongue, but rubbing this in would help neither of you ang you have four hours and a dinner before midnight, when your family woud allow you to escape. "You're doing fine, baby. Let's just go find a seat."
"Hey!" Your uncle yelled as he came down the stairs, probably from the bathroom. "I know you just came back from whatever-country, but in this house we speak English! None of that Chinese crap!"
"Maybe I should have brought one of the M members. At least then they'd be right." You murmured to Chanyeol, a smile sneaking onto his lips until your uncle spoke again.
"Oh, so you brought one of the chinks back then, huh? Pretty tall, I bet he costs a lot to rent. What do you have him do for you?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Or to ya?"
"O-kay, you've had too much to drink." Your sister took him by the biceps from behind and steered him back into the living room, giving you a pitying and apologetic look as she left.
Your parents had laughed at his joke, but Chanyeol was blooming red with embarrassment.
"Considering that he's an internationally popular singer, I imagine quite a lot." You spit back, your parents stopping their chortling to send you an offended look, as if they weren't making the man you'd been dating almost since you moved to Korea as uncomfortable as humanly possible.
"He's a singer? How come I've never heard of him?"
"Well, unless they're from this country, I don't expect you to know about them." You said, just keeping the venom from your words. "So, where are you keeping the snacks? we haven't eaten since before we got in."
"I don't imagine there's much more to eat than air over there." Your mother chuckled. "Come on, they're this way."
You and Chanyeol had been through quite a lot together. Not only was work, school and distance sometimes an issue between you (though the makeup sex was way more than worth it), the darkening of his skin was another problem. He'd gotten more and more insecure about himself as the other members began to very suddenly improve, kicked off by Sehun's growthspurt and his transition from cute, bratty maknae to sassy young sex object. He'd felt like he was falling behind, not representing EXO well enough. And then, Luhan, Yifan and Zitao left and he was a mess. Even though he wasn't in M, he felt a strong connection to all of his bandmates and was devastated when they left, though he held no hard feelings towards them. The two of you had got through that all together: assuring him that he was beautiful inside and out no matter what, that EXO would still be successful and together even with the other three gone.
But colourism hadn't prepared him for this, and even you were surprised when one of your lead-weened cousins decided to pop her sixteen-and-pregnant ass down next to the two of you and look him over.
"Aren't Asians supposed to be yellow?"
Chanyeol's brow furrowed. "No. We're human."
She raised an eyebrow at him and snorted. "I meant your skin. You don't look like a chink."
Chanyeol blinked vaguely at her, but your sister burst in the room, yelling out that dinner was ready and that you were supposed to assemble around the table. You took Chanyeol to the table, your gracious sister taking up his other side and the two of you boxing him in like Secret Service. Which was fine, because he leant over to you and ditched trying to talk in English for a bit.
"Why do they keep calling me a . . . what was it? Chink?" He murmured, even though you both knew you were the only two who spoke Korean. You sister knew some basic phrases, but wouldn't interrupt you anyway, even if she could understand.
"Because they're racist."
Before he could continue, your mother and aunts were bringing out food and he was distracted by it, eyes lighting up for the first time since you'd entered the house. You told him what everything was and told him what he would probably like most and how to eat everything.
"What, he doesn't even know what carrots are?"
"He's Korean. Or course he doesn't. All they have is air over there, and I hear that's in shortage with how many of them there are!"
"Maybe she just wanted a taller sister for when she's in Korea. God knows, he sure has the face of a girl."
"You were right about the potatoes." Chanyeol whispered, nudging you with his elbow. "What else do you got for me?"
"Have you ever had saltwater-steamed asparagus?"
"What's that?"
You passed him the bowl and he dutifully scooped some out, passing it down to your sister.
"Oh." His eyes closed and he almost moaned. "That is so good."
You smirked, playfully nudging him back. Focus on Chanyeol. Ignore your asshole relatives. You can almost leave. Then sexytimes. Maybe blow him in the car. Yeah.
He laid his head down on your shoulder, something that was somewhat of a ritual whenever the two of you ate anything anywhere, and stole from your plate, downing some turnip before you would reprimand him. The way his face bunched up in distaste was punishment enough, though, so you let him chew and swallow, quickly downing the rosé your sister handed him.
Your relatives took notice of it, though, and started to make fun of him for not liking the frankly disgusting orange slop you'd been made immune to over childhood. He smiled back at them, taking the mockery graciously, but you could tell me was confused as to why they decided that he would be the object of ridicule when your younger cousins were also quietly grimacing at the dish.
"They're assholes. Don't worry about it." You assured, squeezing his thigh.
"Oh Lord, you've gone completely pagan!" Your grandmother almost screeched, pointing a horrified finger at you.
"What?"
"I saw your hand go under this table! What kind of disgraceful acts do you think you can get away with here just because you've been in a heathen land for such a long time?"
"Grandma!" You hissed, horrified. One, you'd never seen your grandmother as having such a filthy mind, and two, Chanyeol had turned into a statue at your side.
"Answer me honestly, dear. Have you two had sex?"
Now, wasn't there a loaded question? "Look, this isn't something we should discuss. Ever. At all. But especially not here. Where people are eating."
"Oh, you have!" She looked like she was ready to cry. "You have!"
Chanyeol gently placed his wine glass down and cleared his throat, almost visibly switching to English. "We're dating, not married. We don't . . ." He scrambled for the words. ". . . don't do that."
That seemed to quell your grandmother's hysterics, but now that would be the topic of coversation probably until you showed up in the country again. And the entire younger generation was collectively rolling its eyes. Of course you'd had sex - you'd been going out for a long time and neither of you had been virgins when you'd met. Duh. Plus, where else had you learned all those particularly useful Korean swear words?
"Is she okay now? Did I get her to stop making a scene?" Chanyeol's tone was almost pleading.
"Yeah, yeah, we're fine now. But as soon as we can, we're leaving here." You promised and Chanyeol just nodded. Of course he'd been uncomfortable the whole time and likely particularly offended by the names and questions he'd been asked.
"Are you sure that you don't do math and work at a tech call centre?" One of your uncles asked again.
"No. I'm a musician." Chanyeol replied, poking at his food after his appetite had been lost in all the massive sex and racism.
"What instruments do you play?"
"Piano-"
"Yup, you're definitely Asian." He gave a toothy grin which Chanyeol returned politely, if for nothing other than courtesy. Not that he'd received any.
"I also play drums and guitar." He finished quietly.
"Now I kind of wish we had a piano. You could play." Your uncle continued on, unhindered. He ignored both Chanyeol and your sister's guitar in her old room.
"Pity." You muttered, looking down the table at your brother, who had been trapped in the kitchen with your mother. He gave you a helpless look and mouthed Sorry.You nodded to him, sneaking your hand down to lace your fingers with Chanyeol's, hopin that you could give him some kind of grounding in this whirlwind assault on his senses and pride.
Dinner wasn't much longer and eventually everyone migrated back into the living room, the tv turned on to watch the New Year's ball drop.
The stupid questions didn't stop, but since your brother had been freed and your sister was Chanyeol's other bodyguard, it was safe to say the four of you made your own segregated group. You talked untilt he ball dropped, waited fifteen minutes, then claimed you didn't feel well and were going to go home with Chanyeol. Your grandmother gave you a stink eye, your aunts and uncles making Asian driving and dick jokes and your father refusing to shake Chanyeol's hand before you left.
But by the time you'd made it back to the apartment, walking up to the steps, it was clear Chanyeol had finished processing the words thrown at him and the bitterness had started in.
You had never been happier to be on a plane. Your sister, after getting a call from four neighbours for noise complaints (which you were particularly proud of), had offered to drive you to the airport, your brother busy on an errand but stopping by long enough to kiss you goodbye and wish Chanyeol the best of luck with the upcoming tour.
"Tell Jongdae I said hi, yeah?" Your sister giggled as Chanyeol hugged her.
He beamed, restored from your . . . session last night. "I will."
"Well, go on. Get through customs and give me a call when you land back in Seoul, okay?" She gave both of you one last hug and walked back to her car with a wave.
Oh yes, on a plane back to Korea, finally putting the ocean's worth of distance you wanted between you and your relatives back in its correct place, was the best feeling you'd had all week. Chanyeol was beside you, hand twined with yours, head on your shoulder and body lax despite the fact you two were in first class and he was a perfectly good headrest of his own. But that was okay, because it was just the two of you again, going back where you belonged and free from scrutiny.
Fuck, you loved Chanyeol.