1947, Seoul.
Seonghwa picks at his food cautiously.
He's not used to having lunch with his father, and he's afraid that if he makes some kind of mistake, some momentary slip in his manners, if he slurps his soup wrong, that it'll set him off.
"Shall we take a trip?"
Seonghwa's head snaps up.
He isn't sure if he heard right.
"I need to settle some matters in Mokpo. I'm selling the old house. I thought you might want to see it once before I do."
Seonghwa's eyes widen, and he places his chopsticks down quietly.
"You're selling the house?" he asks softly.
The house filled with memories of summers with his mother and his uncle and his cousins.
The beach and the tangerines.
"Yes."
Seonghwa's hands settle on his thighs and rub up and down anxiously.
He wants to say no, no, don't sell the house, but he knows it has to happen, and he knows why.
Nobody lets on, nobody tells him anything, but he knows there haven't been any dinner parties in the past year, he knows that fast talking Japanese man hasn't come by with this exquisite pottery, 15thcentury, or this lovely painting, very refined, it would suit your tastes just like this wonderful collection of wines, shall I pour you a glass?
Nobody tells him anything, but he knows his father has started drinking in the mornings.
"I'd like that very much, abeoji," he says softly.
Nobody tells him anything, but he hears the muttered words in the school hallways.
Fucking Jap sympathizers, they had it coming.
His hands clutch at the fabric for a moment.
Perhaps it's for the best, anyway, he thinks.
"I'll tell the old woman tomorrow morning. She'll be helpful to have around. The boy too."
His heart lifts for a moment at the thought of sharing his childhood with Hongjoong.
The thought of taking him down to that beach and the wharf, down that winding road from the old house to town.
"Yes, sir," he says, and picks up his chopsticks again.
"It's been a while," the man mumbles. "Quite a while."
__
"Mokpo?" Hongjoong says.
He's squatting on the pavement outside the bakery, snapping his fingers and wiggling them about, trying to get the attention of a small cat hiding behind the garbage bins.
"Where is that?"
"Down south," Seonghwa replies. "Coastal town."
YOU ARE READING
↱SEMPITERNAL↲ ⇾seongjoong⇽
FanfictionA story where Hongjoong and Seonghwa find each other in three lifetimes. "What if I said I'd find you in lifetimes to come? What if I loved you in all my lifetimes past? Wouldn't that be lovely?" "I think I'd say you're a god awful poet."
