Chapter Two

Slap and tend (ouch, my pride)

“No! You don’t understand. Argh!” Hyukjae screams frustratedly, as his slender fingers tangle themselves in his auburn mess of hair and pulls the roots harshly.

It really . It how Hyukjae is trapped in this dingy little place, somewhere in the middle of China — a place faraway from Korea, home. It how he can't walk around without help, even when he’s in the bathroom he needs a person there to support him. And the bathroom isn’t even a room: it’s a small poorly built plastic squat toilet from the late nineteenth century buried half heartedly in the remaining concrete blocks that are still managing to stay rooted (unlike some of the others that were somehow able to come loose from the cement and earth). And the worst of all, Hyukjae can't communicate without feeling like he had just saved the world; it is so tiring to ask a few questions regarding his whereabouts yet a simple task like that is able to drive Hyukjae over the border of insanity.

Grumbling to himself, Hyukjae furrows his brows and absentmindedly starts massaging his ankle. He's angry at himself for being so stupid, so brainless because if he just suppressed the urge of climbing this mountain, then he won't be stuck in a mess like this; furthermore with a swollen knee that he sprained from when he fell and tumbled down the mountain. His ankle is injured too, but compared to swelling of his knee and the pain he feels whenever he traces his fingers lightly over it: it’s nothing. Then of course, there are the annoying scratches. They itch so badly because he probably rolled over some poisonous plants and every two days, this green icky goo paste is applied to those open wounds, stinging like hell and it’s extremely cold, but in a way the pain overshadows the itch; successfully aiding Hyukjae to sleep without clawing himself all over.

Currently sitting in the shade of a huge willow tree, with the ends of the tree trimmed nicely and evenly, Hyukjae busies himself with staring at the strangers working in the yard, under the deadly sun. Now having taken a proper look, their clothing suggests them being far from ordinary citizens of China, but rather more closer to monks. The grey thin material draped over the white cloths, creating a neat and organised look.

All except one.

The young boy whom Hyukjae has seen so many times; either popping in his room to clean (not that Hyukjae is messy, trust me he’s a clean freak, but it’s a little hard to move around with a pair of old wooden crutches, a swollen knee and half of your body aching) or just to check up on him. As usual, the boy wears a charming smile on his thin pink lips, which no doubt girls will swoon over; that is, if there are any girls. He knows that in some monasteries or temples the female is forbidden to enter, and although it may seem extremely ist the rule is followed from as early as the religion started. But then again, aren't most religions full of weird rules? Anyway, as Hyukjae turns his attention back to the boy, he notices the boy has some sort of special place within the temple. Unlike the rest of the monks, the latter did not dress in the same grey robe, but instead in a plain white tee and old-fashioned jeans. Heck, Hyukjae thinks those jeans must be from the 80s or something.

Another thing he observed was that first, the boy is young. Very young; he must be in his late teens or somewhere similar. Also, the cute brunet had hair. It sounds ridiculous, but everyone else living in this place is bald, except him and the boy. But the main thing Hyukjae noticed is that this boy has a soft spot inside the chief monk, because he was always allowed that extra bowl of rice just by a flutter of puppy eyes; and whenever the boy forgot his chores (which was quite rare) or was late because of helping others, a jut of the bottom lip and a twiddle of thumbs had the chief monk sigh before ruffling his hair and let him off the hook.

And then there were his looks.

The boy’s fringe falls over his forehead, resting childishly above his eyes, giving him an adorable look. Each of the black coal strands look so soft, that Hyukjae just want to pet it because Donghae looks like a puppy; so cute. And through the thin stretch of fabric Hyukjae can see the well-endowed body; hint of six packs forming and the pectorals looks firm and strong. Don’t even get him started on that , that divine behind Hyukjae gets to see every time the younger bent down, and, his thighs couldn’t be any juicier than they already are. Seriously, what does this boy eat to get a gorgeous body like that? Hell, he’s not even consuming any proteins (from the observations he had made during the four days he had stayed here, he is absolutely certain that the boy is a vegetarian; and so are the others. Except him of course, but there's no meat anyway so he has to join in).

Just when Hyukjae thinks the boy couldn’t have any more good qualities for him to say about his person, he proves him wrong. Although they have the language barrier as a main obstruction to becoming friends or whatever, Hyukjae can conclude confidently that the boy has a heart of gold. From the way he would make conversations with Hyukjae, yet he knows that Hyukjae doesn’t understand him and vice versa, the things that he does touches Hyukjae's heart deeply, stirring an insatiable concoction of confused and wondrous feelings inside him. Hyukjae thinks it is way past spring, for it is already through to summer, yet, now, he feels a large herd of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.

But it is not the appearance of the boy that has Hyukjae whipped and intrigued, the boy’s nature is just as interesting and beautiful.

Like that one time, the boy was resting when he saw several of the monks pant as they bring buckets and buckets of water that was collected from a nearby stream. The brunet had sprung up from his place and immediately jogged over to carry it; and Hyukjae had coincidentally saw it and smiled. Or the other time, an injured baby swallow had fell out of its nest on a particular windy day whilst its parents were out hunting for food. The brunet, who had seen the entire course take place, immediately jumped outside and came back panting; cradling the little furry fluff ball in his open palms and he began nurturing the wound on its body. After a few days, the bird had healed and Donghae very sadly had parted with his small friend. But now, Hyukjae isn’t sure if it is due to his hearing but he swears that the bird chirps just a bit louder, sweeter and more melodious whenever the boy walks past.

Sometimes he thinks he’s noticing the boy too much, although he's not doing it intentionally because he doesn’t wake up and think of the boy as the first thought that pops up in his mind, no. However with the lack of communication and entertainment, he is slowly becoming crazy, or more like a madman.

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It is exactly noon when Hyukjae screams out loud. He's had enough of the craziness in this place, but this time it is out of pure annoyance when he realises that his phone is not with him. The past few days had somehow kept his mind busy, the fact that he has a phone and could call for help completely slipped his mind…well, until now. Almost instantly, the doors to his room slam open, four monks and Donghae appearing like magicians. The scene would have looked absolutely hilarious if not for Hyukjae in a very bad mood, which means him in a nasty temper. Throughout his years of being a soldier, if there’s anything he learnt the best it would be his terrible temper — able to snap at the littlest of the littlest things.

So, without any concern for the eardrums of neither his fellow helpers nor his own lungs, he screeches like a banshee, “My phone! My phone!” Seeing eyes blink blankly one after another, he curses out loud.

“Aish, motherers. P-H-O-N-E! Where’s my phone? Do you even know what it is? A rectangular shape, rec-tan-gal.” Hyukjae sarcastically explains, taunting he monks. He sees the elders stilling, like statues before realising that it is probably another episode of Hyukjae tantrum so shaking their heads almost pitifully, they walk back to their chores.

Hyukjae screams angrily into his thin pillow, letting out all the accumulated anger, frustration, helplessness, loneliness and annoyance. When he allows the object to be released, he sees Donghae staring at him with unreadable eyes. And, mistaking the looks for pity, which he hates receiving; Hyukjae has a go at the poor boy by the door.

“What? Too stupid to realise what I'm after? Then go! Go like the rest of them, see if I care! You all see me as a lunatic anyway, so why stay any longer? ing get lost! Oh, and why don’t you make yourself useful? Don’t show your face until you find my phone.”

Hyukjae regrets his words immediately as he sees Donghae widen eyes orbs, as if understanding him before tears starts gathering. The last image of Donghae in Hyukjae's mind is a kicked puppy, eyes shiny and woeful.

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Hyukjae almost forgets about the inc