Archive of Our Own

Matthew's tired.

He doesn't know how many more 'I think you shouldn't have done that' or 'That's too much' he can bear to hear until he's close to ripping his hair right out of his scalp. Frustration seeps through the cracks of what used to be an infallible smile full of teeth and crinkled eyes, because even smiling too wide is a sign that he's far too friendly in an unfriendly society. He is ousted as a foreigner not just because of his twang when he speaks, but also because he is simply too radiant and friendly—it is difficult to interact and make friends.

When he introduces himself as 'Matthew', people gasp and whisper amongst each other: "See? I knew it! He's a foreigner!"

Matthew wishes to feel less foreign, so he introduces himself as 'Woohyun' for a while. Although it is also his name by birth, he still feels strange when the name rolls off of people's tongue. He doesn't feel… himself.

"So much for being Korean too. You'll fit right in. Bullshit," Matthew grumbles to himself, kicking the gravelled path the same time an indignant huff leaves his parted lips. Rocks fly from underneath the sole of his shoe and land in dissonant 'click clacks' against other ones that make up the path, but the company of the rocks are not enough to fill the void the people around him refused to.

Yet, it is all he knows despite having lived here for months by now. He doesn't admit it out loud lest it truly becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, but he is lonely.

Matthew knows better than to believe that moving into a new country is a walk in the park. He knows it is far from the truth when he's come face to face with international students back in Canada—he sees what loneliness does to adolescents his age, but they eventually settle with time. Matthew welcomes them in too, and in turn, gains friends that he doesn't forget. It can't be blamed on him then when he isn't faced with the same warmth no matter how much he's not done it for something in return. Although Canada is much colder than South Korea's ever been physically, the gaps in between the human warmth and a lack of interaction sends a different sort of chill down Matthew's spine.

He tries not to think too much into it—there is no benefit to rumination, unfortunately. All Matthew can do is make peace with his own lonesome. He clings onto the last parts of what still feels like home when he goes to stay with his aunt in her house outskirts of Seoul instead of returning back home in the summer when he is granted a break from university because his student visa's run into a problem that renders him unable to leave. His parents and sister are far too busy with their life in Canada to visit, so it's unfortunately one set of bad news after another. Matthew is just lucky his aunt invites him over with open arms, but even she is unable to patch his fragile teenager heart together enough. He feels sorry every time he subjects her to his issues, either way, and so resolves that he can somehow settle it alone. Himself. In his lonesome.

Thankfully, after a month or so of living at his aunt's, no less lonelier than he was when he first did, he's worked up a little bit of a system for himself that works. Beyond playing with kids and being that dependable older brother or something, Matthew finds comfort in an unconventional way. He traverses alone past the neatly trimmed field of grass that his aunt calls her backyard. This is not where he ends his journey, though. Past the clearing and a fence that separates her land from state property, there is a lush forest a distance away, separated by a large body of water. Matthew can't believe that this is exactly the sight that greets his aunt every single day, if he's honest, and cannot believe even more so that she doesn't spend more time in her backyard at the very least. Either way, he's also thankful for her lack of free time, because how can Matthew, at his age, even begin to explain his newly developed hobby without raising concern over his well being?

… though. He supposes his newfound hobby he's amassed over the month is nothing too concerning to write home about. His aunt doesn't seem to mind his pockets of disappearance at the end of the day, and Matthew finds it at least relaxing to indulge in his hobby—an activity that he can only do by the riverbed, so it's no wonder his footsteps lead him there like clockwork. He's beat from the trials and tribulations that today brought, and so decides he deserves to wind down the only way he knows how.

The view before him is breathtaking no matter how many times he's seen it.

Azure blue skies, clear without a cloud in sight. The lush forests are a distance away and seem unexplored. Matthew wonders if it's ever possible for him to cross the large river between him and the trees—it's not a thought he entertains for long, either way. With how vast everything here is, Matthew reminds himself just how small he is, and how much smaller his problems are. And because they are so small, Matthew believes he can toss them away, though he does take on a more literal interpretation of his own words. This is where he develops his new hobby, as he walks all the way to the edge of the riverbank.

Matthew bends down to gather a few handful of stones, loading them onto his hoodie he treats as a makeshift pocket. They range from larger ones to smaller ones, some irregular and jagged and others smooth, battered down by the relentless passage of time that wears down on their uneven surface. Today, he wishes to attempt to figure out which sort of rock is the best for his hobby. It's almost as if he's running an experiment. Matthew picks the first stone from the top of the small pile he's gathered, studying it with more interest than one usually gives to a mere stone. He rubs his thumb against the jagged surface, weighing it a few times in his hand, before he poises himself to throw, arm pulled back and heel digging into the gravel beneath his shoes. The crisp noise cuts through the quiet of the lake, and, with a decisive swing of his arm, Matthew throws the singular stone towards the undisturbed surface of the river, now disrupted by the stone as it skips along the surface of the water a few times until it falls into the river with a satisfying 'plop' sound. He can't help but celebrate his victory when the stone skips an extra time more than usual—it seems the more experienced, less insecure adults were right: Skills came with more practice. With how many times Matthew has come to skip stones on this very lake, he believes he is on his way to becoming a pro. Whatever that entails with this hobby of his.

The cycle continues. Matthew takes note of the shape of the stones he picks up in his hand, studies them by bringing them close to his face but yet without much thought behind his eyes, and then skips them the same way he does all the time. Matthew also believes he breathes all his worries into them—with every swing of his arm and a flick of his wrist, Matthew throws his worries away into the huge river, for the large body of water to consume to help Matthew forget. The weight he feels on his hoodie that diminishes from the amount of stones he throws into the river breaches beyond the physical realm, and finally, Matthew feels the stress and loneliness that almost become his closest friends here, in South Korea, dissipate.

How many stones has it been? Matthew loses count, eventually, but there is no point in keeping track. He continues skipping them across the surface, admiring the sounds of the stones as they meet the water, and eventually, reaches his last stone. Matthew's experiment is also already forgotten—halfway in between his introspection, he's forgotten entirely to study the shapes of the stones before tossing them. He is more so focused on the process now, and poises himself once again to skip his last stone before he has to pick more up before a blinding light forces him to screech to a halt in his actions, distracted enough from the sudden brightness that burns white even beneath his eyelids he squeezes shut, the stone slipping past his fingers and toppling lamely onto the gravelled ground beneath his feet, rolling a small distance away, returning back to the ground in a perfect camouflage.

"What the—" Matthew mutters underneath his breath as a hand swiftly raises to shield his eyes from the blinding light. The air around him suddenly feels heavy—it's a dense humidity that, whilst quite representative of a muggy South Korean summer, was simply too much. Matthew feels as if he's been dragged underwater, lungs constricted and breaths coming to him shallowly, but yet, he knows that he is still rooted on the ground beneath his sneakers. The flash of light is gone, but what he sees next is even more ridiculous, straight out of a fever dream.

An unidentified object seems to steadily rise, water cascading over its silhouette as the water tension takes just a bit longer to break. Matthew doesn't believe anything to be this buoyant to stay undisturbed within the lake for so long, but instead of a 'something', he is met with a 'someone', except this person doesn't just come up to the surface.

No. Instead, he rises to the surface so steadily that Matthew is convinced that there is a platform that is pushing this strange individual up. Matthew squints and peeks underneath his hand that he's previously used to shield himself from the blinding light, but it is still too bright for him to discern anything at all. A part of Matthew believes he's dreaming, either way.

"You," a voice sounds, booming in its volume, yet soft in its delivery—it sounded gentle in Matthew's ears, at the very least. Matthew gasps and grows wide-eyed, unfortunately rooted to the ground from all of his shock. When the glimmer dies down, Matthew's arm slowly lowers, too, and he is greeted with a sight like never before.

Clad in iridescent blue robes that look more like water than fabric, the beautiful man seems to come closer to Matthew and yet still remained woefully on the river's surface than anything else. Matthew is convinced he's dreamt up this being in his own lonesome, though. Except, it feels less like fantasy and more real when the strange being looks at Matthew with a frown on his features, incredibly soft and plump lips pressed into a soft pout. His gaze, when it lands on Matthew, is cold like steel, colder than the water of the lake when he occasionally takes a dip at the shallower ends when the muggy heat gets too unbearable. Matthew shudders, but he cannot look away.

"Hey," the stranger speaks once more. Matthew sucks in a deep breath and tries to level himself in between the stranger's speech, "Could you, maybe, stop throwing rocks at my home?"

"Whoa… you're like, beautiful. And I'm Matthew."

Oh, well. That's awkward. Matthew doesn't expect himself to be caught in this situation, where he clearly does not register a single word the stranger says in favour of Matthew letting him know that he personally finds the stranger beautiful. Perhaps, this can be something he can look back upon and laugh at a few years down the road when he is hopefully more accustomed to South Korea and hopefully with friends actually his age instead of way, way younger, but for now, he is embarrassed that he even thinks like this.

Clearly, the stranger thinks the same. There's a soft gasp that falls past his lips before he shakes his head and disappears as quickly as he materialises—in a flash of blinding light that has Matthew squeezing his eyes shut once more.

When he opens them again, the stranger is gone.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･ ❪ 🌊 ❫ ･﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Matthew doesn't believe in love at first sight.

It's a frivolous concept that many people use as an excuse to justify their physical attraction—Matthew is unfortunately a victim of hearing his friends back in Canada rave about their wild dormitory life to him in their shared group chats with other friends, sometimes with pictures so intimate he's unsure why they're attached to the messages that share way too much information it has Matthew's head reeling. They talk about love at first sight like it's something that can be possible, but Matthew is always a sceptic when it comes to this. There is no way anyone can feel something as strong as 'love'. It can be classified as lust, a mutual interest, and being attracted to another party, but what Matthew believes is that what he feels towards this river being-human-god-thing is definitely not lust, nor is it just sole attraction, but rather, love.

Or perhaps it is just a really pretty manifestation as a product of his loneliness. Either way, he has too much time to spare, an endless amount of stones to throw, and an unwavering determination to see the being again. There is blind faith and also utter bravado that stems from a tad bit (read: a lot) of stupidity. Matthew is also nothing if not determined and incredulously optimistic. He doesn't keep track of the sheer amount of stones he's thrown by now, and to be honest, it's not as if Matthew is doing much more than his usual already—he visits the river every single day, and perhaps spends a little more time than usual, but it's nothing too out of the ordinary. The only thing that's different is that now, Matthew is looking forward to something, or rather, someone.

Even despite all this, though, he realises that there is still some upper limit that he somehow reaches after another week of skipping stones. Matthew tries to throw more this time around, until his arms are sore with the amount of swings he's done, but for some reason, the strange being doesn't resurface from the river's depths once more.

"Do you not want to see me again?" Matthew mutters into the next stone as he brings it to his lips, "Or are you just a figment of my imagination?"

Matthew wishes that it is otherwise. He doesn't know how believable he can sound if he tells anyone about his supernatural sighting, and though there are many tales that talk of river nymphs and water creatures that litter folklore, they don't do what he's seen justice at all. He doesn't think the being he's seen is horrific like the stories tell him, and the grotesque images that get pulled up and spooks him into a sleepless night are a definite far cry, too. Matthew wonders if that being he's spotted is a siren, then. But then again, he hadn't sung, so maybe not..?

"Please show up so I know I'm not going crazy," he pleads softly, throwing the last stone he has collected for the day towards the river. It doesn't skip this time around, much to his own bewilderment. Matthew can only watch as it immediately breaks the tension of the surface and sinks in with a soft 'plop'. Silence ensues, beyond the soft rustle of leaves as the wind breezes past the lush green foliage, married with the sounds of cicadas that do nothing to appease Matthew's sense of failure.

Great. Now he's lost his ability to skip stones too.

Matthew sighs and decides to submit to fate—he must have been so lonely that he dreams of a pretty boy surfacing from the river to soothe over the ache loneliness leaves. He casts one last forlorn gaze towards the river before he soon turns, taking a step to begin heading back towards his aunt's house.

"You're leaving so soon, today. Are you not going to wait for any longer?"

It's the same voice, icy cold yet oddly comforting once more. Matthew gasps and turns back towards the river once again, eyes widening the moment his gaze falls upon the being. He's not dreaming! It's not a figment of his imagination! Pray heavens, for Matthew has not gone crazy from loneliness!

"You're real!"

For some reason, Matthew's excited exclamation must be amusing to the being somehow. Matthew watches as plump lips curl into a soft smile, expression mixed with equal parts amusement and disbelief. Or at least, that's what Matthew can make of the being's expression. He takes a few more steps forward, rushed and excited, until he stands right at the edge of the riverbank where gravel meets water.

"You're an interesting one," the being mutters. This time, he looks a little less foreboding, more approachable—of course, he is still clad in the same iridescent blue robes, hair somehow dry and even fluffy-looking even despite the fact that he very clearly emerges from the river. Matthew is not going to question logic here, though, because nothing about this is anywhere near logical. All he's glad about is that he's not hallucinating at all.

"I am? I think you are even more so, though. Like, you're literally emerging from the river. I still think I'm dreaming," Matthew admits, a sheepish grin appearing on his features, "I didn't even know how to get you to resurface beyond throwing more stones into the river. I thought I was going crazy."

Matthew watches the expression on the being's face twist into a slight frown for a split second. A part of him is worried he's suddenly said something wrong, but all he witnesses in the end is the being coming closer to him, stopping only when he's just what seems like a few steps away from the riverbank—if someone can walk on water, that is.

Whoa. From here, Matthew can see… everything. It's not something bad, of course, but it only makes this whole situation grow even more ridiculous. It shouldn't be possible for someone—or hell, even something—to be this beautiful. It feels like an unfair sort of playing ground, because what Matthew witnesses is this: Soft fluffy hair, subtly styled and textured, eyes sharp yet holding the slightest bit of softness all thanks to his warm, honeyed brown irises that seem to reflect more than just Matthew within them. There are depths to the sweet brown that Matthew cannot even begin to fathom, but when he looks at the being's face in general, where thick brows frame the prettiest pair of eyes, a gentle slope to a perfect nose, lips so much more pink and plump and looking so very soft up close, proportions so perfect that it has Matthew wondering how such a being can even exist… it's otherworldly beauty, but human nonetheless. Matthew can't help but grow even more intrigued, even more so as his eyes continue to study the being before him, at how he owns beauty marks—one under his left eye, another on the side of his nose bridge, one lower on his cheeks. They somehow highlight each of the being's delicate features, and—

"You've been staring for an awfully long time. Are you quite alright?"

Oh.

The smile that graces Matthew's features is… sheepish. His cheeks soon tinge with colour, red and warm, and his neck is somehow flushed, too, so clearly evident past the collar of his shirt. He doesn't know how to explain away his blatant staring, but he is nothing if not honest to a fault.

"You're just really beautiful. I couldn't help but stare," he admits way too easily. This time, it seems that he doesn't cause the being to just disappear into thin air—he remembers how he calls him beautiful and is then left alone to think about their encounter. Matthew is just glad that it's not the same this time around, and even better, too. The being laughs, his voice so delightfully light as it fills the air around them with jovial sounds, whether out of amusement or happiness, Matthew doesn't know. He just wants to keep making him laugh.

"Say," comes Matthew's voice, when the laughter draws to an end, "… can I ask you something?"

Matthew's not sure if the being is making a whole show out of this, but he sees the way contemplation looks on him—gently pursed lips, subtly furrowed brows, and eyes that look upwards just slightly as if it'd aid his thought process. At least the answer Matthew receives is not a negative one.

"What is it?"

"Can I court you, somehow?"

"You've only met me twice. You want to court me?"

"Some people sleep with one another on their first meeting. I mean, not that I want to sleep with you or something! I just. You're just. Really beautiful."

"I know. You told me three times by now. More, if you count the amount of times you whisper about meeting 'the beautiful creature-human-god-thing' again into the stones you throw into the river."

"…"

"…"

"Anyways. Can I?"

The being laughs.

Matthew finds himself wanting to crawl into a hole and die from the embarrassment. He doesn't know how much more the being actually knows, but Matthew somehow doesn't want to find out today. At the very least, he is still determined in his pursuits to court this being, human or otherwise (he is not human, Matthew's sure). Was this birthed from loneliness? Matthew cannot help but wonder if his own desperation is off-putting. Beyond the being's beauty and Matthew's obvious attraction towards him, he feels a pull to the being like the constant waves, tugging him deeper and deeper, even though he's physically still standing right at the edge of the riverbank. It doesn't make sense for the analogy to be used here, maybe, but there is an undeniable pull that he feels towards the being.

Maybe he is also too lonely, but this is the first time no one looks at him with disdain or discomfort—only amusement. Matthew can deal with being a source of amusement.

"I'm not easy. You can try, but there is no guarantee I will accept your attempts. What if you give up halfway? You were about to give up ever seeing me today, after all."

Matthew winces, but it's mostly because he's accurately called out for his wavering determination. He doesn't feel as if it's fair, though. Matthew makes it known with a soft pout and a subtle furrow of his brows.

"I thought you were not real! I've been coming back every day trying to catch another glimpse of you. You're not exactly the most believable thing to exist in the world, you know. You're like, the first and only being I see come out of a river like this. I thought I had to check myself into a psychiatric ward from all my delusions," Matthew whines. He can't help but gently kick at the gravel underneath his shoe—it's a proof of his indignation towards being wrongfully called out when he has good reason to give up.

The being, sadly, does not show much compassion to his plight.

Yet, he isn't making Matthew feel small. It's impossible for him to feel that way, when the smile that spreads across the being's face is gentle. Matthew finds it easy to feel himself grow warm with affection, enough that he has to shove his hands deep into the pockets of his pants lest he feels the temptation to surge forward. He is too touchy, too overwhelming, and maybe the being is just as conservative as the people he's met so far. Not that there's anything wrong with that—Matthew just doesn't want to ruin anything by being too forward.

"I won't stop you. Try your best," the being replies soon enough, "But I have to cut our time today short now. Your aunt is waiting for you."

Matthew blinks a little slowly, nose scrunching up just subtly.

"You know her?"

"The waters and breezes whisper and so do the stones you toss into the river—I know more than you think," he answers, and then smiles once more. This time, there is more mystery in his expression. Matthew cannot deny it intrigues him more, as much as it's increasingly more horrifying that the being somehow knows so much about Matthew when all he knows now is a confirmation that he is very much real. (He hopes.)

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Matthew asks, voice soft, words desperate.

"If you wish earnestly enough, then yes."

Matthew isn't given time to respond. All at once, the bright flashing light happens once more and causes Matthew to have to squeeze his eyes shut and for his arms to shield his face.

When he regains his bearings once more, the being is gone.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･ ❪ 🌊 ❫ ･﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Matthew is happy. Much to his satisfaction and against his worries, he does see the being once again when he heads down to the river the very next day. Matthew doesn't come empty handed, either—if he's to up his efforts of courting the being, then of course he has to bring some offerings. That, and he believes he, like what the being has mentioned, has wished earnestly enough.

"What's this?"

"Oh. You know. A protein shake. I don't know, it's something very precious to me," Matthew mutters, staring as the being holds onto the bottle. Now that he thinks about it, it is quite hilarious. What the hell is he doing, bringing something like this as an 'offering'? Matthew can't help but notice how odd this looks, too. This otherworldly being, dressed in such pretty blue robes that flow like the water, that Matthew still does not believe is real, holding onto a bottle of protein shake. It's why he ends up laughing underneath his breath, barely hiding his amusement which does garner the attention of the being.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing… nothing. I just think it's a silly present to get for you, now that I think about it. Protein shakes… well. I have them before my workouts."

The being frowns, and Matthew watches closely as he uncaps the lid, takes the smallest sip, before he's frowning in disapproval.

"This tastes disgusting."

"Health never tasted good. You can give it back to me if you don't like it… I'll bring something better for you next time!"

The being gasps softly, eyes widening right afterwards. All he does is sink deeper into the river, holding the bottle closer to his chest.

"No. I'm going to keep it."

Matthew doesn't know why, but that warms his heart entirely. He smiles, brighter than he's done ever since he's arrived in South Korea.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･ ❪ 🌊 ❫ ･﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The cycle continues. Matthew loses track of the number of days he's spent at the river, talking to the being that resurfaces each time Matthew comes close to it. They talk about everything under the sun—the being shows Matthew where on the riverbanks has the best spots to sit at and they will spend hours there together, where Matthew even finds the opportunity to share his worries that he also gains advice for. His days are a little brighter, and he dreads the encroaching sunset as the golden orb dips behind the trees before it floods the skies with a deep orange reflecting and bouncing off of white clouds now tinged vermilion, the edges glowing yellow, and then a little bit more until it gets too dark and Matthew's aunt calls, or texts, him to return home for dinner before the food goes cold.

Matthew doesn't visit empty-handed. Not even once, for he puts in effort in presenting the being with a few items, too—protein shakes were clearly not the way to go, but he brings other things this time. Matthew doesn't know what the being has seen before, so he takes his chances with everything—once, it's an ice pop from the convenience store nearby. The other, it's a trinket that he finds from a vintage store owned by this really nice grandmother that tries to introduce him to her granddaughter that's his age. (Or grandson, when Matthew doesn't show enough interest. How can he tell this nice, well-meaning grandmother that his heart is seized by the rivers?)

Today, though. He brings something quite new, quite… special. He doesn't know what brings him there, but Matthew feels a pull he cannot reject into the small jewellery shop in town. It's almost as if he's hypnotised, because he doesn't even look at the balance in his bank account before, or after, he purchases his next gift for the being.

"This is.. really sparkly," the being mutters softly. Matthew studies him closely, as he peers into the open box Matthew is holding up for him. Matthew hopes that the 'sparkly' part is not off-putting, and something that the being actually enjoys.

"So… do you like it?"

There's silence. Perhaps a touch longer than what Matthew wishes for it to be, but there's a gentle nod that he witnesses right after. Matthew's heart leaps, and he feels as if he's suddenly floating from just how happy he is.

"Can you put it on for me?"

"If you put it on. It means you accept my courting attempts."

Matthew is usually confident to a fault and he doesn't see himself stopping this anytime soon. Some people find it horridly off-putting, and others find it subtly intimidating, but it's how he gets through life. It doesn't help him that much so far in South Korea, but…

What he sees then, is a positive response. The being smiles softly as he turns, his back facing Matthew. He can't help but let out a soft sigh from his parted lips. There's admiration that Matthew breathes out as he admires the being before him—he smells of the river, a gentle breeze of calm. Sweet, grassy pine, Matthew doesn't feel tense whenever he's around the other. It's quiet, so quiet like someone's stuffed cotton in his ears. He doesn't register anything beyond the being.

"You're making me wait an awful long time."

Matthew chuckles softly, a soft apology quick to leave him before he takes the necklace from the box, making sure to level the pendant after he pockets the box. He leans in, gently circling the necklace around the being's neck. Matthew can't help but hold his breath for a long while as he focuses on putting the necklace on, fingers shaking as he unclasps the hook. By some stroke of miracle, Matthew doesn't lose hold of the butterfly clasp, and successfully places the necklace on the being's neck.

When he turns around again, Matthew sees the pendant, finally settled on its proper place. The orange teardrop-shaped diamond is beautiful as it rests between the being's collarbones, a perfect complement to the shimmering blue robes. Matthew can't help but grin, feeling awfully proud of himself for the choice he makes. For some reason, Matthew feels like a small part of him is now permanently on the being, too.

That, and he's accepted. Finally, after many days of trying to do so, Matthew gains approval from the… being.

Wait. Dread settles deep into his bones and courses right through his veins, a chill running down his spine. He shudders unwittingly and stares at the being before him, bewildered.

"I… never got your name. Oh my god. I have never gotten your name. Do you even have one?"

"Did you finally realise that? After all these while? Should I laugh, or should I cry?"

Matthew thinks the being shouldn't do either, and on the contrary, perhaps Matthew should be the one doing it instead. He feels awfully played, pout deepening on his features.

"You should feel bad. It's not good manners to not tell people your name!"

"You never asked, Matthew."

"Wait, why do you know my name? Why is this energy not reciprocated?"

"You told me the first time you called me beautiful," the being reminds all too helpfully. Matthew wants to whine and grumble in protest, and he does.

"It's Zhang Hao. You can just call me Hao, though," the being—Zhang Hao—replies. Or rather, he relents, almost as if he's weak to Matthew's whining.

Although he does get a name, Matthew is still taken aback. The last time he's checked, they're in… South Korea. Whatever that leaves Hao's lips does not sound Korean to Matthew, which means Hao is… not Korean? This shocks him even more, but beyond that, Matthew also feels oddly connected to Hao now. They're both on foreign land, after all. Although Matthew is ethnically Korean, he still can't quite belong. It's almost sad that he feels the most connection with some sort of otherworldly being, but if he's honest, he doesn't want it any other way.

"You don't sound like you're from here, Hao," Matthew comments, a subtle frown appearing on his features, and although it doesn't actually matter that much, "Where are you really from?"

"I originated from the waters in China. Fate brought me to reside in this quaint little town in Korea, and I've just… decided to settle here ever since."

Matthew isn't thinking much. Well, he stops thinking ever since his first encounter, but everything just simply makes sense to him now. Although he doesn't know the true depths of Hao's origins, the less he thinks, the better it is for the both of them—it shouldn't matter where Hao is from beyond him quenching his curiosity, and it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Matthew is just glad that he has Hao, and that through all his courtship, he's finally accepted. Matthew doesn't care much beyond that.

"I'm glad I met you, Hao. I'm also glad you decided to settle here."

Hao doesn't reply beyond a shadow of a smile, but Matthew doesn't exactly need him to. All he wants, after all, is just for Hao to know he's thankful. Hao's presence does him so much good—although it is not a complete solution to all the turmoil he felt ever since he's come to Korea, he at least feels less lonely by now.

"Do I soothe the loneliness you feel inside your heart, Matthew?" Hao asks softly. Matthew finds himself frowning subtly at that, like he's been read too well by someone he doesn't even mean to be read by. Yet, Hao speaks nothing but the truth—all the soft whispers in the stones Matthew throws are the desperate yearning in his heart, a reality he cannot deny. It aches and tugs at his heartstrings, but that balms over and eventually dissipates by the gentle companionship he's been offered by an otherworldly being. Matthew sometimes wonders if their time together will somehow be just another fleeting moment in his life, but even if that is the case, he will hold onto Hao tight. As soon as he's allowed to.

"I think you do more than just that, Hao. I don't think I've ever felt like I wasn't judged for who I was ever since coming here," Matthew admits, though it's accompanied with light laughter that he does so, "Being a foreigner is tough. Not for the weak of heart. I don't have friends."

A part of him is almost too embarrassed to actually look at Hao. How is someone supposed to recover at his age as they admit that they suffer from a severe lack of friends? This isn't grade school. Matthew never struggles, but the loneliness that he feels in South Korea tells him otherwise. The grey cement of the buildings seem to close in around him in the city, and he's only offered reprieve here, where the winds rustle at the grass and tickle at his skin when he settles upon them. If he was Zhang Hao, Matthew would have judged himself to the moon and back by now (except he is kind to a fault and not one for judgement—if it didn't involve himself). It takes a saint to refrain from judgement, and surprisingly enough, it is exactly what he receives from Hao. Or rather, what he doesn't.

"I can't say you have friends, but you do have a friend," Hao mutters, gesturing to himself in a way Matthew can only describe as an awkward way. It pulls laughter from Matthew, because how can it not, and just as naturally as it is for his brain that tells him to breathe without even him knowing, Matthew falls deeper into the lull of Zhang Hao's unexpected charm. He's utterly besotted by the otherworldly being whose complexities seem to seep beyond the rich soils that make up the riverbed, a place that Hao calls his home, too. Matthew wonders if the stones he throws in make up the gravel of Hao's home, but doesn't allow himself much time to think—it's rude for conversation to halt for this long, and so he opens his mouth to speak.

Laughter seems to seep out first, though. They're gentle sounds as Matthew smiles, widely, all teeth and gums. He laughs, and the weight of a burdensome world where he doesn't quite fit in seems to lift. The breeze carries it all away, and all that is left is adoration and affection.

"You're really the best, Hao. Though, am I really stuck in the friend zone?"

"… what's a 'friend zone'?"

Matthew gasps like Hao not knowing what the 'friend zone' means is the most ridiculous and unrealistic thing he's heard in his whole life, and proceeds on a whole impromptu lecture about the 'friend zone' to a student that doesn't even know what he's gotten himself into.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･ ❪ 🌊 ❫ ･﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The next time they meet again, it's… unconventional.

Matthew doesn't know how to explain it beyond that—the hustle and bustle of the people around them is disorienting enough, but there is a calm that stands beside him either way, washing over his frame in a tenderness that doesn't feel like it should exist. When he looks to his side, Matthew has to tilt his head up slightly to properly look at the person beside him.

Zhang Hao is… tall. He knows this as much when he sees the being surface from the depths of the river, but when they are standing right next to one another, the height difference seems augmented. It is the first time he manages to stand this close to Hao, too, and Matthew worries he will grow used to it, especially considering he's been thinking of it for the longest time.

In all honesty, it's almost ridiculous.

—

"Hao. It's a little upsetting… I'm a little upset, actually. A lot upset, even."

There's a pout that played on Matthew's lips as he spoke, brows furrowing together so much it creased at the fats between his brow bones. At this, Hao grew alert, head immediately lifting, where his gaze would inevitably shift rapidly from the rocks that made up the riverbank towards Matthew.

"What is ailing you, Matthew?" Hao asked quickly enough, voice soft, yet laden with worry. The concern was heartening, warming at the edges of his aching heart. Perhaps Matthew was a little dramatic too, but he believed he could not be blamed. There was a huge summer fair—the hugest for this small town, filled with activities and food stalls alike. Matthew was excited about it for he had always been one for such festivities, and it would have been his first upon coming to Korea. Except…

"There's a nice summer fair happening and I want to go. But I want to go with you, and it's just a pity you can't leave this place…"

"Hmm? No, I can, Matthew. We can go together if you'd like. Is that a date?"

"What the fuck."

—

Thinking back, maybe it was indeed funny. Hao's laughter when he realises just how shocked Matthew is at this revelation is redemption enough either way—he finds that he doesn't quite mind not knowing. Beyond the fact that he's mourning all the times he spent in restaurants alone, wishing there to somehow be a way to bring Hao to all his favourite places, that is.

But Matthew believes that they can make up for lost time.

The fair is a good place to start, he believes. It is also a place so unexpectedly well set-up, considering the fact that they're not in Seoul. Matthew sees them all the time, walks past them even, but has never felt welcome enough to enter them. Although it's quieter here, the stalls are still full of people, both participants and booth owners. Some are selling goods, and there are a few booths that seem to exist to disseminate oddly specific and specialised information more than anything else, but Matthew is focused on finding the food stalls, especially with the insanely rich aroma of food that wafts liberally through the air, working as trails that seduce self-proclaimed foodie and consumer of all delicious food to closer to them. Yet, all the bright colours and exciting fanfare is secondary to Zhang Hao. Matthew finds himself—more often than not—just sneaking glances at the taller male walking beside him. At times, he catches Hao's gaze too. Yet, those glimpses at one another are new. Matthew is used to always looking at Hao when they spend time together at the river, but with the added elements of a crowd and a festival brimming with things to peruse, he finds his attention varied. Somehow, Matthew finds he prefers the quiet of the river now, which is decidedly the oddest thing he's ever thought of. This one last glance at Hao solidifies his suspicions: Hao prefers the same thing as Matthew does.

"Hao," he calls out, voice set a little louder all due to the hustle and bustle surrounding them. The loudness of his voice seems to cause Hao to startle just briefly before he gathers himself and turns his attention to Matthew with a smile, who of course finds the entire scene that unfolds in front of him so insanely adorable.

"Is the crowd okay with you?" Matthew quips even if he already knows the answer. The brief flicker in Hao's smile is enough to answer his question, but Matthew waits for a response either way.

"Not really," Hao mutters, honest enough. "But it's still bearable. That's how festivals are. Don't worry about me."

Matthew wonders if Hao knows it's already too late. He's worrying, but he promises to try doing so a little less than his current usual. (He's failing horribly.) Unknowingly, they've already stepped so close to the side that the crowd just filters past them, engaged in such lively chatter that their voices end up in a loud, almost disorienting blend of chatter. Matthew tunes it all out and keeps his attention fixated on Hao, before something catches his attention right behind the being—it's hard to see past the taller male, Matthew will admit, but the bright neon of the sign right above Hao's is just as hard to miss.

"Hook-A-Duck?" Matthew squints, reading the yellow and orange colours. He must admit, it's the neon duck that catches his attention first. He spots Hao turning in his peripheral vision, too, in what Matthew presumes as an attempt to look at where Matthew's attention is dedicated to.

"What's that?" Matthew hears a soft voice ask. He can only offer a shrug to Hao, before he's all smiles once more, taking Hao's hand in his to guide him towards the makeshift festival(? Carnival?) game. The booth is mostly empty, with the only exception being the booth owner that welcomes the two with such gusto that only comes with a desperation for participants for an admittedly rigged game. Matthew can't blame them, though. They're also trying to make a living.

He only realises one thing perhaps a little belatedly as they slow to a stop in front of the stall. Matthew is holding onto Hao's hand as easy as it is for him to breathe. With the lack of resistance when Matthew guided them forward earlier on, his preposterous and presumptuous action goes unchecked, causing Matthew to breathe a quick gasp before an apology sits at the tip of his tongue, spilling out the same time he moves to loosen the grip on Hao's hand. This time though, he is met with resistance. Hao's hand, subtly cold in Matthew's own, is larger than his. He witnesses the lithe fingers grip around his palm so tightly it surprises Matthew. One thing is for certain—Hao's grip only loosens when Matthew stops trying to break their hands apart. His cheeks are flushed all thanks to Hao, and he's about to say something, until—

"Hey, you two! Interested in a game of Hook-A-Duck? It's only 5,000 won a round! Maybe you'll be able to snag a grand prize right up." The booth owner is enthusiastic, Matthew will give him that—but it is more unsettling that he goes from almost unbothered to this sudden show of enthusiasm as he gestures to the small rotating pool of rubber ducks with a metal hook drilled into the top of their heads. Matthew is only granted a moment before the booth owner quickly adds with, "It's worth it! Look at the grand prize, isn't it adorable?"

Matthew squints at the grand prize. Nestled amongst smaller plush toys, is a much bigger one. With its seemingly soft and fluffy brown fur with the shape of a typical teddy bear, it does seem like an adorable gift, if not burdensome at how large it is. Matthew feels as if it will be more than half of his height if its long limbs were to dangle downwards. Either way, it's the only large prize there, and Matthew knows the likelihood of actually winning it is small. When the booth owner explains the rules and time limit even more, the likelihood only bumps down even further—a time limit of thirty seconds, some ducks being empty, no sure-win prize. All his hopes are even more dashed when the booth owner presents the fishing rod meant to hook the rubber duck up. It's comically long, and probably heavy because of that. All of a sudden, Matthew feels sorry for all the children that falls for the scam that is this booth.

"I think we'll pass, right Ha— Hao?"

"Matthew… I want it," Hao mumbles. One quick glance at him is all Matthew needs to know that the other is absolutely enamoured by the grand prize. Matthew gulps, wonders just how many 5,000 won bills he has to burn through, and then resolves to get the prize for Hao even if it kills (bankrupts) him.

Matthew believes that there is no hope left for him. He is damned, utterly and entirely so. He's run his bills so much he has to pull out the 'big guns' as he calls it—10,000 won bills for two attempts at once. Ten rounds in, and he's failing terribly. The ducks he pulls up are either empty duds, or he fails entirely because the game is entirely too against his odds.

"This is impossible!" He gasps out loudly, digging into his pocket to grab his last 10,000 won bill. Two more chances.

"Matthew. You can stop, you know. It's okay. You spent a lot of money already," Hao leans in close to whisper, nose crinkling upwards as soon as Matthew brushes him off, too determined to get Hao the prize that he doesn't allow his determination to waver at all.

"Just this one last time. Or two. If we're lucky, it'll just be one," Matthew insists, handing the crumpled bill to the booth owner. The rod doesn't even get handed to him to begin with because it hasn't left his hand in a long while. Mathew tries one last time, resolute, as the tinny sound stemming from the cheap speaker fills his ear once more when the timer for thirty seconds begins again. He manoeuvres the rod so that the string dangles over the pond once more as he tries to hook one duck — just one that will hopefully bring him to the grand prize. The ducks spin around faster than the ring at the end of the string can hook them up, much to his own chagrin. A quick glance towards the timer tells him that he only has a few seconds of the meagre number of seconds he's given to begin with and how he probably has to surrender another 5,000 won. He's halfway through coping with the future loss.

Matthew doesn't notice it at first, if he's being honest. In fact, it happens so quickly that he doesn't pick it up—the water in the pool slows to a stop, before a rubber duck seems to rise just a fraction higher than the rest, before the hook catches onto the metal ring at the end of the string. Matthew gasps and pulls up the duck, eyes growing wide with excitement.

"Hao! Hao hyung! I caught it!" He exclaims, bright and so very excited. Matthew's quick to hand the duck over to the booth owner once he brings it to his hand—Hao's excitement is softer and quieter, but the brightness in Hao's eyes doesn't go unmissed by Matthew. They only have to cross their fingers and hope that the duck is the luckiest duck now—grand prize for Hao, the one thing Matthew's been working so hard for. He watches closely as the booth owner flips the rubber duck to declare the hopeful end of Matthew's suffering.

"You won a prize! Although it's not the grand prize, you get to choose one of the smaller plush toys as your prize," The man declares, and shows the rubber duck to both Matthew and Hao. Matthew's face falls just a tad.

"Not the grand prize? This sucks," he whines, and falls into despair until Hao squeezes Matthew's arm, smiling.

"That's fine, Matthew. The prize is enough, look," he urges, "We even get to pick which little critter we want to bring home. And I think I know just the perfect one."

Matthew blinks a few times at that. "You do?"

Hao nods firmly, his actions resolute as he points towards the pile of plush toys. Matthew squints to try to figure out which one Hao is pointing towards. His experience is clearly lesser than the shop owner who quickly picks up the exact plush Hao wants, confirmed with a quick nod of his head that causes the soft fluff of hair to flit about in the air. Matthew finds that part of Hao especially adorable, but doesn't comment on it beyond the all too endearing smile that can't help but form on his features.

"Look, Matthew. Isn't he adorable?" Hao asks softly. It's only then that Matthew's attention drifts away from admiring Hao to look downwards the same time the plush lifts upwards. It's soft, fluffy, and definitely a much more manageable size than the grand prize. The fur is a bright golden orange with dark brown fur on the tips of the ears and white at its tail. Recognition settles in quite belatedly, but Matthew notes that it's a fox plush toy. A huge jump from a bear, if he's being honest.

"I thought you'd get another bear. A smaller one, maybe," Matthew speaks, even though he doesn't exactly answer Hao's question. It is adorable, yes, but Hao's choice confuses him. There are many bears that just look like the mini version of the grand prize, after all.

"I thought so too, but look," Hao replies, bringing the plush up even more, until it's right beside Matthew's face, "It looks just like you. I didn't see it just now, but I like this way better than the grand prize."

Matthew swears he'll burst right then and there. He doesn't know how it's possible that this much love can manifest in one single person, but the warmth that he feels build up in his chest and rising in his body is so overwhelming that he can't help but to throw his arms around Hao, pulling him down into the tightest of hugs. He doesn't even let go when Hao lets out a soft gasp in surprise, and instead, only tightens his arms around Hao even more so until he gives up and returns the hug, too.

"You're really the cutest, Hao. How is that even possible?"

"You tell me, Matthew. You're the only one that finds me cute," Hao mutters, pulling back from the hug just a tad. Matthew has the opportunity to take a proper look at Hao from up close once more. He appreciates the softness in Hao's gaze this time around—it's a far cry from the first time their eyes met at the river when Hao implored him to stop throwing stones into Hao's home. There's affection in the warmth of Hao's irises as he peers at Matthew, and he's a hundred percent sure that that same love is reflected in his own gaze, too. Matthew doesn't know what to say beyond a soft—

"Sorry to break your moment, boys, but there are people who want to play, too," the booth owner's voice sounded, cutting through the fluffy warmth that Matthew feels fill the air. So much for him wanting to be romantic and profess his love right here. Hao takes it in stride better than he does, though, because he's only laughing and apologising as he holds onto Matthew's hand first this time around, guiding him away from the stall.

Matthew finds himself falling in love even more—irrevocably so.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･ ❪ 🌊 ❫ ･﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Their date night ends rather quietly. After deciding that the festival is still far too loud to function in, the two of them make a last-ditch attempt to buy dinner from the generous spread of food stalls. Matthew's a little cash strapped, but Hao swoops in—with money Matthew doesn't even know how Hao gets—and pays for their dinner. They carry plastic bags that Hao doesn't quite agree with (he only calms down when Matthew swears he'll recycle them properly) and head back to their shared quiet haven. Even so, there is still something different this time around: It's not Matthew coming to find Hao by the river anymore, but rather, they're returning back here together. It feels a little weird, if he's being honest, but he doesn't hate it at all. In fact, he enjoys it even more like this.

Another thing is that Hao isn't in the water this time around. Matthew's glad that Hao decided to join him on the picnic mat he unfurls—a little thing he tucked carefully between two rocks that Hao tells Matthew about. With how often he comes, after all, it makes less sense for him to constantly bring the mat around again and again. The food is placed carefully on the picnic mat too, in front of them, when the two of them sit close to each other, shoulders almost pressed against each other's. Matthew feels as if this is perfect.

Sometimes, Matthew also thinks about the loneliness he used to feel. It's so far away now, especially when Hao lets out a soft yawn and leans his head gently to rest against Matthew's shoulder. The weight feels so ever present—constant, gentle, sweet. In moments like these, the loneliness feels like a speck he can just toss away with a gentle flick of his finger. Matthew doesn't feel lonely anymore.

"Hao. Hao hyung," Matthew whispers, raising his hand to gently cup the side of Hao's head, fingers gently combing through the soft locks of hair in long, affectionate strokes. Hao replies with just a soft hum, the flesh of his cheek pressing firmer against Matthew's shoulder. It brings laughter to easily slip past his parted lips, leaning his head to gently press against Hao's own, "Are you not hungry?"

Hao hums, nodding his head a few times. Despite this, he doesn't move away from Matthew's shoulder at all. Not one bit.

"A little. But this is so much better," Hao replies after a moment of silence. Matthew can't help but smile, entirely too endeared by everything—Hao's antics, his words, his gentle presence right beside him, soothing and gentle just like the very body of water he originated from—which brings about such a fond memory that has Matthew chuckling faintly.

—

"Hao hyung. You know, I've been calling you hyung, but are you really older than me?"

"Are you able to trace back to the origins of water, Matthew?"

Matthew found himself pausing for a moment. He frowned, thinking about that One Oddly Specific video he's seen on the internet about. The title: "history of the entire world, i guess". Water existed so long ago, that Matthew found his nose scrunching up subtly as he shook his head.

"I don't think it's possible. Water has existed for so long, I feel."

Hao nodded.

"I've always existed as long as water existed. I just gained consciousness as… whatever I am, a long time ago. Definitely from before when you were born."

"Whoa. That means we have a HUGE age gap with one another! That's pretty scandalous, isn't it? And you still are allowing me to court you?"

Matthew shouldn't be grinning as much as he was. Especially when Hao was sulking at him, his plump lips puckered into a pout as his brows knitted together. How was he supposed to stop grinning when Hao was so adorable?

The splash of water that soaked him from head to toe (it's definitely not a splash, if he was honest) was enough to wipe that smile away from his face, even if only briefly.

Fine, Matthew supposed. He deserved that.

—

"You look like you're thinking about something fun," Hao notes with a soft laugh, amused.

"Yeah, a little bit. I was thinking about the time you splashed me with water. Remember that, hyung?"

Hao laughs almost immediately and nods.

"How can I forget? I was regretting my decision to let you court me at that moment."

Matthew lifts his head up then, turning to look at Hao—who looks right back at him, round eyes so sweet as their gazes meet.

"Do you regret it now, hyung?" Matthew asks quietly. Although he feels as if he knows the answer already, he can't help but worry either way. What if he's wrong? Disillusioned? Maybe Hao doesn't feel the same as he does, after all, and is just looking for a friend in Matthew?

"Do you want me to splash you with the water again?" Hao questions, brows raising whilst his hand waves forward—Matthew witnesses the way the water raises from the river, shimmering in the moonlight, floating in the air that doesn't seem real at all. The sight before him is magical as much as it is a reminder that Hao is very much capable of splashing the water all over him once more. Matthew doesn't want to risk getting their dinner soaked with water too. Water-logged fried chicken doesn't sound the most delicious, even if Matthew isn't known to be picky with food at all.

"Oh, Hao hyung, no. I just want to… I just want to be sure."

The water falls back into the river with a faint plop the same time Hao's smile gently forms on his features. He leans in—Matthew forgets how to breathe—and kisses Matthew square on the lips for the first time.

Matthew expects his first kiss with Hao to be electric. He expects fireworks to burst in his chest and for the feeling to seize him up entirely the same way people always talk about kissing the people they love, but with Hao, it is just like his presence as always. It's the same calm that brings Matthew to the river all the time, finding solace first in the stones he skips, and then eventually, in the male that emerges from the very same body of water. Matthew feels as if he's home. He doesn't even know when his eyelids flutter shut, but he remembers the way he kisses Hao back, soft lips upon soft lips, heart open and warm with love that he doesn't quite know where to place at all except for on—and to—Hao.

When they pull back from the kiss, Matthew's breath quickens. He still doesn't know how to deal with all the love he still has remaining, threatening to burst out at the seams. But Hao does it all for him—as he always does.

"Matthew-yah," Hao calls out softly, cold hand cupping at Matthew's cheek. It burns, soft and warm, flushed against Hao's palm—and the chill helps Matthew calm down a little. Enough for a split second, until Hao's words wreck waves through the entirety of Matthew's body once more.

"I love you."

Matthew doesn't even take even half a second to respond.

"Hao hyung! Oh, I love you too! I love you so much."

Hao laughs, leaning their foreheads together with a smile Matthew can only register as pure fondness.

"Silly Matthew. Come now, our food's going to get cold…"

Matthew's laughter joins Hao's chorus, and they spend the rest of their night together, side by side by the river—in love, eating, laughing, and kissing.

Matthew is glad he's thrown all those stones in the river all those while ago.