One

Fall

One

“A paper, Sir?” a little voice asks and it makes Chanyeol’s head snap away from his meal.

Standing about an arm length away is a small child, about five or so.  His clothes are worn down, too big newsboy cap on his head, bare feet covered with dirt.  He wears a messenger bag at his side, stuffed to the brim with newspapers. The boy holds out a rolled one out with both hands hopefully.

Chanyeol’s seen lots of these boys around ever since he arrived the day before.  But this one’s strange. In this district they have pale hair, most blond and the very few with pure white.  Under the boy’s cap sticks out black strands - much like Chanyeol’s own.

“One,” Chanyeol agrees even if he doesn’t care for news.  It’s always the same, but this choice earns him a toothy smile and crescent eyes - a look of happiness he hasn’t seen in years.

“Thank you, Sir!” the boy bows after they’ve made a trade.

And Chanyeol can’t help but watch the child dart off to the next table outside of the restaurant.

 


 

It becomes a ritual - buying a paper from the same boy every bruch hour.  Chanyeol has a stack of unread papers in a box in his studies now. The black haired man wonders what he’s even going to do with it when he moves again.  He can’t take them with him, having no space during the whole moving-one-place-to-another.

But the child would make his way down the street everyday, with his too heavy messenger bag and glowing eyes.  He can’t help but buy one just to see the cute toothy grin and crescent eyes. It’s come to the point where the twenty-seven year old sets a silver coin on the table before he even orders his food.

And it’s not often the bag would be empty, but there are the child’s lucky days where he does manage to sell that much.  But there would always be one for Chanyeol, held tightly in two tiny hands.

“I sold out the moment I passed down a block,” the boy rushes as he tries to regain his breath. “But I saved one for you, Sir!”

The businessman is unable to hold back his smile, seeing how proud the boy is as he holds out the roll of papers for a trade.  Chanyeol hands over the silver coin and takes the papers with a half smile.

“Sit,” he orders and the boy’s eyes double in size, head spinning to see the chair across the table. “Come on now, you’ve ran all the way and saved one for me.  The least I can do is buy you a drink.”

“But,” the boy trails off in hesitation, biting his bottom lip when he sees the restaurant owner watching from inside. “I’m not allowed to.”

The man delivers a glare through the window when the boy’s head bows down to look at his shoeless feet.  The owner had the common sense to walk away. “Well, I bought this table for a meal. It’s my table and I say that you can, Boy.  Sit.”

“Yessir,” the boy answers hastily, hopping into the seat awkwardly.

The moment the black haired child sits down a waiter comes over and Chanyeol orders the boy a sweet drink and a small breakfast plate.  The child looks like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“What’s your name, Boy?” Chanyeol asks gently as the waiter walks off.

“ ‘Ma calls me Sehun, but the kids here can’t say it so they call me Shixun,” the child claims with a little pout.

The name is oddly familiar, Chanyeol’s heard it somewhere.  No doubt, probably back at home where everyone else speaks Korean too.  With the boy’s hair, Chanyeol is willing to bet his whole inheritance that, at least, his mother comes from the same town.

“I’m Park Chanyeol,” the young man returns; and he expects anything but a “I’m a Park too!”.

Chanyeol chuckles, definitely Korean, and he jokes, “Maybe we’re related.”

And the child, Sehun, giggles in delight.  “Yeah, maybe. It’s a nice thought. I’ve only got ‘Ma.”

And Chanyeol’s heart breaks a little hearing the boy say it so nonchalantly.

 


 

“You know, I didn’t think you would actually come all the way here to find him,” Yifan admits with a low chuckle and Chanyeol can only nod at his blond friend. “Where else left?”

“Just two cities… Then out of the country,” the younger answers hesitantly. “It’s not easy finding red hair.”

“He might have dyed it,” Yifan suggests gently as he leads them deeper into his manor. “He talked of it often.”

Chanyeol grimaces at the thought of his favorite wine colored hair gone.  As such as the tiny boy said so, he always prayed for Baekhyun to grow to love it as much as he does.

Yifan blows air out of his nose, suddenly laughing.  But the sound is bittersweet, and Chanyeol knows that the taller misses their former little servant too.  “If you hadn’t been so obsessed with him, I would think that you’re just using him as an excuse to run away from your arranged marriage.”

Chanyeol scoffs at the mention of his childhood friend. “Yoona’s absolutely pleased I’m running around the whole country.  She sends me mail every week to tell me how much my parents are pissed.”

“I heard she’s found someone else too,” Yifan mentions, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile. “The poor soul.”

“Yes, that Ok boy,” Chanyeol confirms as they heard little running footsteps from the floor above of them before crying of horror. “Bath time?”

“Unfortunately,” Yifan sighs as they hear the water begin to run. “Luhan never wants to be cleaned and once he’s in, he never wants to come out.”

“Junmyeon must be having a blast raising him,” the Korean jests and Yifan lets out a barking laugh

“If his hair isn’t already white, it would be now,” the Wu son returns easily. “Only if you had a son too, Chanyeol.  They would be friends now. Hurry up and find Baekhyun and make a kid for our sake.”

“I’m trying,” Chanyeol answers, but his voice is suddenly tired and weak.

He doesn’t do anything when Yifan’s hand fall onto his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

 


 

“Summer’s almost over,” Chanyeol states casually on their daily trade. “Excited for school, Boy?”

The child loses his smile, eyes dimming so quickly that it makes Chanyeol’s heart crack.  Sehun bows his head as he shakes it, little toes wiggling nervously. “You have to pay to go to school, Mister Park Sir.  And they won’t let street rats like me in anyway.”

For the first time, Chanyeol struggles to find an appropriate reply.  He comes from a fairly decent town, where all children receive education no matter what part of town they come from.  They shared books with those who are unable to buy them, or donated them once they’ve been used. They might have not all gone to school with each other, but they all had a chance.

“And plus, ‘Ma already taught me how to read,” Sehun continues and he fidgets his hands. “And math, a lot of history.  Not science though, because ‘Ma said that only Appa is good with that. But ‘Ma said that Appa’s busy so… I’ll have to learn it when I’m older.”

“Well, I’m decent with science too,” Chanyeol says and the boy peeks up. “I can teach you if your dad’s busy working.”

There’s a moment of silence, little face scrunched up before a little nod that makes Chanyeol smile for the rest of the day.

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Geraltihista18 #1
Chapter 8: Is this complete?
Chanbaek641 #2
I'm loving it!