When I came into my dorm, I found the Chinese boy Hankyung making something on the stove. He shook the frying pan with skill; he looked like that kid Ryeowook with his cooking ability. I wonder if whatever it was tasted any good?

I walked over to him and peered over his shoulder. He looked back at me for a second, and then looked away, placing the frying pan down on the stove to grab something — looked like pepper — off of the other side of the counter.

I stared into the pan, which was full of rice. Rice that had all sorts of pretty coloured vegetables and egg in there. I leaned down to smell it. Damn, that smelt good! I stuck my nose right into the food and breathed in, accidentally some up my nose. “Mmm…” 

“Er, excuse me.” I looked back to see Hankyung looking at me, a bit bashfully, with a pepper shaker in his hand. I may have forgotten he was in the middle of cooking the contraption in this frying pan.

“Oh, sorry.” I moved out of the way. “What is that? It smells delicious.” I picked the grains of rice out of my nose, and chucked them in the garbage. No good were they up there.

“Mn… Beijing fried rice.” he mispronounced the word and didn’t look up from the pan he was shaking, and he grabbed a spatula and stirred it around. I laughed.

“So… Beijing Fried Rice, then?” I copied his accent, and he blushed. “Sounds yummy. Can I smell it again?”

He looked back at me, more embarrassed this time. “Hn… yes… don’t eat it through your nose, okay?”

I laughed again. “Fine, I won’t.” he stuck the pan in front of my face and I breathed in the scent of Hankyung’s dish again. Without getting any up my nasal canal.

“Want some? There is enough.” He asked, giving it one last shake over the stove and then shutting the stove off. 

“Really? That’d be great! I’m starving. I’ll get plates.” I dashed over to the other end of the kitchen and ripped five plates out of the cabinet, and then put four back. I then realized my math was wrong and grabbed another one. On the way back over to Hankyung who was watching me with an amused look, I accidentally dropped one of the plates. It was saved by Hankyung who somehow managed to have the hand-eye coordination to take the exact amount of steps and throw his hands the exact length to catch the falling plate, all within the span of two seconds. 

“How did you do that?” I asked, as he took the plates from me, smiling. He seemed to find me funny. Most people just found me conceited or stupid. He found me funny, which was very encouraging.

“Practice.” Hankyung split the Beijing Fried Rice into two piles and put them perfectly on the white plates, which he set on the tables.

“Are you magic? How did you make them so perfect like that?” I asked. It was kind of a rhetorical question, but he answered anyway.

“Practice.” He seemed to like that word. I wonder if it sounded cool in Korean to him. Because I was leaning my weight on the table, when I jumped up (for no reason), it shook the wood and shook the stuff on the plates.

“Whoops.”

Hankyung grabbed the spatula and fixed everything back into two piles again. A little bit of a perfectionist, maybe? He pushed one plate towards the side nearest me and sat near the other. In a second he got up and walked to one of the cabinets. I followed with my eyes. “Water, you want it?” He asked, stumbling his words again.

“Yes, thank-you. Can you grab us rice spoons too?”

When he sat back down with water for the both of us, he threw me a blank plastic rice spoon. He used these chopsticks with little designs on them. I remember I’d heard him telling Kibum his mother had a pair just like it.

The smell of the rice took me back into reality, and I stuffed some into my mouth. That was literally the best stuff I’d ever tasted. I mean, I loved Korean food, and Chinese food was great too, but this was beyond any other Chinese food. This stuff was good; I wonder how many years of practice he had to have to make this like this. Seriously, I didn’t even think a bunch of rice and vegetables could make something like this. Was he like, a secret expert or something?

“Holy ! I mean, what did you put in this! This is so good, Hankyung!”

He looked a me surprised, and then grinned. “Ah… thank you. I just put in red peppers… egg. And egg.”

“You must be magic. How about you make this for me every morning for breakfast… in return I’ll… make your bed or something. How does that sound?”

Hankyung looked surprised again, and then delighted. “Instead of make bed… you can go get ingredients? I will make and pay, you go to store. Yes…?”

“I’ll pay some days, It’s a deal!” I shot up, knocking the beautiful piles of beautiful food off balance again. I did the American thing and stuck my hand out for him to shake. He looked at it, and I grinned and pulled it away. When I sat back down, he looked really happy. “Thank-you for giving me some. It’s even more delicious when you put it in your mouth rather than up your nose.”

He laughed at my joke.

 

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Hehe. I had to do it. I HAD TO. I'm sorry. I love 'em.