Weird Chinese Food [M]

Written: --

Last updated: 9/12-16

Posted: 9/12-16

Word count: 2,1k

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Minghao is woken up by a familiar marimba tone. The sound of his wake up alarm is one of the few things in this world he has come to hate. Maybe it’s the implied echo generated in the phone speakers, or just the idea of waking up from his peaceful sleeping state that always makes him instinctively panic.

With a sigh he sits up and turns the off alarm. Normally this is the part of his morning routine where he debates with himself whether he can go back to sleep or not, but today is different.

He’s just moved to a new school. A new house. Even a new country. He is too afraid of slacking, and already coming off as careless to the people here, to allow himself to be lazy.

He dresses in a dark blue, knitted sweater and a pair of ripped jeans. With Minghao's slender body structure nothing is too tight - the outfit is actually rather comfy.

It takes him a minute or two to get down the stairs to the kitchen through the obstacle course of boxes still spread out all over the house.

“Good morning, Hao,” his mother says giving him an apologetic smile.

Minghao knows it's about more than just the messy house. She worries about all of those things a mother worries about when her son is put in a life changing situation. He doesn't blame her, since he doesn't really give her a reason to think that things are fine. It never mattered to Minghao that he would eat lunch all by himself, and never have plans after school. He liked it that way because it was his way.

Of course though, as a parent, his mother started wondering what she did wrong and what she could do to help.

“How was your first day of school? Did you make any friends?”

He had expected the question. Because of all the work with moving in, they didn't have time to talk properly last night.

“It was fine I guess. I try keeping up with the English but it's hard.”

She nods.

Studying a language in a classroom for three years is one thing. Using a language in real life is something completely different.

“There were these guys that I ate lunch with, and one of them spoke Chinese.”

Minghao was pretty sure that the other two were Korean, judging from the few words they had dropped into their conversation. But he didn't like assuming things before he was entirely sure.

“Really,” she said looking like she couldn't believe it. “Are they your friends?”

Are they? The thought hadn’t occurred to him. He sat with them, and they didn’t seem like they were offended by it. In fact, they invited him. And they had been nice to him. Maybe they’re just nice people. Friendship is a little bit more than talking, right? Don’t you actually need to know each other?

But once the thought is planted in Minghao’s head it becomes hard for him to abandon. What if those Asian kids sitting in the hallway could actually be his friends? Maybe if he’s nice enough they’ll accept him.

It seems straightforward in his head, but another thought strikes him. How do you become friends? For the first time in his life his low understanding for the art of small talk and social skills makes him feel disabled.

A look from his mother brings him back to reality. Where he has still only interacted with these people once, barely said a word and probably mada a huge fool out of himself.

“Well, we had lunch together and they were nice. I don’t think that means we’re friends.”

It’s too late to have breakfast now, he realizes after checking the time on the microwave. He goes to grab his lunch box from the very empty refrigerator when an idea hits him.

“Can I bring some of the leftover bean buns from yesterday?”

He already knows the answer, but it would be out of character for him to not ask first.

He rushes out of the door, happy with his idea. For the first time in his life he is excited to get to school.

And then his mood is brought down when he remembers the reality.

This is an important year, or Minghao’s case important last months. School is easy in his opinion, he knows what the teachers want. Achieving good results without trying too hard brought him satisfaction and motivation enough. Of course he has his struggles. For example, speaking in class. Even if Minghao knows the answers to every single question, when the teacher asks him the answer will magically disappear from his head making him feel stupid.

But it was long ago since he had stopped worrying about things. About grades, friends, the future and pretty much everything. That way life is a lot easier. If things happen they’ll happen anyways, one way or another problems will eventually solve themselves. Things have a tendency of doing that.

He doesn’t mind living like that, not really. But sometimes he gets frustrated with himself. It bothers him, because as much as he doesn’t mind being on his own he wishes that one day he won’t have to be lonely. Things would just be so much easier if he was sure that “destiny” would come his way no matter what. Instead the thought stresses him out and he’ll just bury it deep down with those embarrassing memories he tries to forget. The truth is, unfortunately, that this year matters. A lot. And so far he's just procrastinated it away.

 

 

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The lunch bell rings. While everyone else storms out of the classroom Minghao takes his time to put homework and papers back into their respective folders. When he gets to his locker to get his lunch box the corridors are close to empty.

He takes out his lunch box and walks towards the spot with benches right outside of the cafeteria.

Only one of the the boys from yesterday is present. Minghao clearly remembers him as the one who asked him to sit with them. The one who spoke Chinese. He sits down, not sparing the boy a glance or word.

It is close to impossible to make the atmosphere more awkward, but somehow it doesn’t seem to affect the person sitting right next to him.

He really should break the silence but as usual his brain refuses to help him. It is stuck on imagining what it would be like if they were friends. Maybe it would have been easier if the other tall boy was here. He seemed friendly and easy to talk to.

“Whe-re are.. eh.. yeour fre-friends?” he tries, internally dying because of how bad it sounds.

When Minghao looks up from his state of shame he finds a face of someone failing to hold back a smile, making him feel that much more stupid.

He manages to kill his chuckle.

“Wonwoo and Mingyu take their time sometimes, I try not to bother getting involved.”

Minghao lets out a stiff breath, mentally thanking the other for switching to Chinese. They exchange another awkward smile.

“I’m Junhui.”

That’s right, he heard the name yesterday but he wasn’t able to decide who it belonged to. In theory, it's a Chinese name, so figuring it out wouldn't have been hard. Then again, assuming things made Minghao nervous.

The pair of eyes staring at him reminds him that it’s his turn to introduce himself.

“I’m Minghao.”

And with a nod the silence falls again. Though a little more permanently this time. They both decide to open their lunchboxes to eat.

Junhui is just staring off into the wall as if he is ignoring the outside world. It doesn’t bother Minghao, silence is easier to deal with than conversation in his opinion.

It’s when he remembers the bean buns that his brain switches back a slightly more panicky mode.

It was all so well planned out in his head. Now he’s just sitting there with a box of bean buns in his hands, staring at his company. It feels too awkward to back out now. Maybe if he stares long enough the situation might solve itself.  

“Are those bean buns?” Junhui points at the box in Minghao’s lap.

He gives a slight nod in shock, mentally cursing himself for relying on chance in a situation like this.

“You can have one if you want.”

The other accepts his offer, chewing on the bun with a mildly content look on his face. Minghao observes him for a couple of seconds. He’s handsome. Maybe not by American standards, but still. He has delicate but sharp features and large brown eyes.

He goes back to his food.

The tension slowly eases, the silence more comfortable as they eat. Just as Minghao opens his mouth to say something, a voice echoes through the otherwise empty corridor.

It’s Junhui’s friends.

Minghao doesn’t catch what the taller one says, but he looks happy. Junhui answers back, voice mocking. The quiet one almost blushes. His expression is blank, however, and just like Junhui’s, a little intimidating. Minghao makes a mental note to be careful around him. In case he ever gets the opportunity, that is. Maybe they’ll reject him. Maybe they’ll leave him to fend for himself in this huge new country, socially inept and too scared to even-

“Mingaho?”   

“Huh?” Again his head flies up, caught in deep thought.

“That’s your name, right?” the taller one asks, receiving only a nod in response.

“I’m Mingyu Kim, I think that we have English class together next period.”

Minghao just slowly nods, unsure if he understands the question right. Mingyu talked fast so all he got was ‘English class’ and something about ‘text’. On second thought, it seems more likely that he said ‘next’.

Unexpectedly, Junhui elbows Mingyu in the side, mumbling something making him nod and look at Minghao again but in friendlier manner.

“Not very good with English?” he says, slower this time and widening his eyes understandingly. “I could help you practice English after school if you want to.”

No functioning human being could resist the smile Mingyu gives him. Not that he would have anyways, but it was one of those smiles that could make you feel like life was worth living even after a day of feeling like .

Minghao barely has time to open his mouth before Junhui cuts into the conversation.

“You never offered me that sort of help when I was new and struggled with English.”

Mingyu’s smile is quickly replaced with a glare as his head turns to Junhui’s, who shares a similar expression.

The tension building up is interrupted by the so far quiet boy.

“Jun, you seem very strange of it today.”

The calm voice catches them off guard. Only Junhui is able to brush it off with a sigh, totally unfazed. Mingaho looks at the boy, perplexed. His way of talking is monotonous and blank, but thick with meaning and importance at the same time. An odd interpretation to make after only hearing one sentence, yes, but something tells Minghao this guy is always like this.

He tears his gaze away, not wanting to weird the boy out, only to find Mingyu staring in the same direction. And then, as if what Minghao saw had only been a mere hallucination, he snaps his head back to look Minghao in the eye.

“I think we have PE together too. You know, football and stuff? Wonwoo and Jun are also in that class.” His expression is even again, lips quirking up in a friendly smile.

“Don’t call me Jun,” Junhui mutters.

“Naaaawe, is Jun angry?” Mingyu teases. A series of mocking, incomprehensible to Minghao, follows. Before he knows it, lunch break is over, and he has to fetch his books for his after-lunch classes.

The three say goodbye to him, Mingyu expressing his excitement for PE and English. Minghao swallows around a bundle of nerves, more happy than he’ll admit when Junhui translates his friend’s words to Chinese (even if he understood them in the first place.)

He walks to class with a smile on his face.

Maybe making friends is easier than he thought.

*****

a/n

• Andtherewego’s first chapter anyone actually will read

• A lot of serious teamwork went down in this

• And way too much late night skyping

• But this is coming together

• We are trying

• Bare with us

• Let’s continue praying for more china-lines   ;-)))))))

• sorry that was an awful pun good night