“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jongin asked, keeping a weary gaze on the bare landscape they had been zooming past for what seemed like hours now. A remote backwater town was not what he had in mind when Minseok told him they were moving to a new place. Then again, he should have known that a remote backwater town was exactly what Minseok would have in mind after living in the city for so long.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Minseok said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Jongin sighed and turned around to look at the backseat, where three cardboard boxes filled with remnants of their lives were neatly placed. He still found it surprising how little they had, although he shouldn’t. They were both practical people after all – at least Minseok was, and whatever Minseok was, Jongin would be too. Or try to be.

It was safe to say that they had accumulated absolutely nothing in the eight years or so that they had lived together. It was easier to decamp that way, Minseok had said. The whole time Jongin had known him – ie his whole life – Minseok had never owned much anyway. Not because he couldn’t, but simply because he didn’t want to, and that was the kind of mentality that Jongin had gone out of his way to embrace. Their possessions consisted of a week’s worth of clothes (laundry was every Sunday at 9 am, weather notwithstanding), some small kitchen appliances, and whatever else they had on them. Their new house was fully furnished and they could buy anything else they might need, Minseok had told him. Jongin knew he was right, but it did nothing to silence the niggling feeling he would always get every time they moved of having left something behind.

Like himself, for example, but didn’t he do that eight years ago?

“Why are we moving?” Jongin asked. He knew the answer to that question, but it was always fun to hear the absurd reasons that Minseok would come up with.

“Because a circus is taking over the city,” Minseok said, eyes still on the road. “You don’t want to go to clown school, do you?”

“No,” Jongin agreed. “Clowns creep me out.”

Minseok glanced at him. “I wonder how you became a police officer.”

“You’re the one who made me watch that movie.”

“How long ago was that?” Minseok asked, chuckling. “Was it ten years ago?”

“More than that. I was eight.” Jongin shuddered. “That movie broke me.”

“Speaking of that movie,” Minseok said, pulling off the main road to drive past a petrol station – which was the first sign of life Jongin had set eyes on in a while – and onto a dusty path. “Doesn’t this place look familiar?”

Jongin watched the row of similar looking buildings they were passing. He wouldn’t have been able to tell which ones were houses and which ones were business establishments if it wasn’t for the signs hung above the doors. He let his gaze travel to the west, where there seemed to be woods in the distance.

“Our new house is somewhere up there,” Minseok said, pointing in the general direction of a hill further north from where they were.

“Oh god,” Jongin said when he realized why the small town looked oddly familiar. It was an almost exact replica of the rural town in that traumatizing film. “I hope there aren’t any clowns waiting for us.”

***

“Where do we buy food here?” Jongin asked, placing the last of the few boxes that they had brought onto the floor of their new ranch house. A quick survey of the neighbourhood – if it could be called that – told him that there was nothing but houses within walking distance. Even those were probably about a twenty minute walk away. The houses were spaced so far apart that he was certain that he could scream bloody murder and none of his neighbours would hear a thing. He couldn’t quite tell if that was good or bad.

“The service station,” Minseok said distractedly, shuffling through what seemed to be guides and maps.

“You mean the one all the way down on the main road?”

“Yeah,” Minseok said, setting the papers in his hands aside to look at Jongin. “Are you hungry?”

Jongin nodded. “If a service station is the equivalent of a grocery store here then I guess we won’t be eating real food for a while.”

“I think there’s a supermarket in the next town,” Minseok said, grabbing one of the boxes on the floor to start unpacking. “We can go there on the weekend.”

“Why don’t we move there?”

“They don’t have a waterfall,” Minseok said, matter of fact. “The car key’s by the door. Do you know how to get back to the main road?”

“I’ll manage. A waterfall though. That’s the only reason we’re in this godforsaken place?”

Minseok frowned at the small toaster in the box. “This town will grow on you.”

“I hope so,” Jongin said doubtfully. “Do you want anything from the service station?”

“Just get two of whatever you’re getting.” Minseok gestured at the toaster. “And some bread for tomorrow since apparently you like toast.”

“Okay. I’m leaving,” Jongin said, unmoving.

Minseok looked at him quizzically.

“I’m leaving,” Jongin repeated, still waiting. He stifled a smile when Minseok complied with his silent request and gave him a quick goodbye kiss – or three, because one was never enough.

“Try not to get lost,” Minseok said, returning his attention back to the boxes.

“What are we?” Jongin asked, out of habit.

“Buddies.”

“Childhood friends?”

“Work partners.”

“Sounds about right,” Jongin said, nodding. “You sure you don’t want anything specific?”

“Surprise me.”

***

“Where are your eyes, head?”

You bumped into me, Jongin wanted to tell the rude man leaving the service station, but there was something in his mannerisms that told Jongin the man wouldn’t hesitate to swing the large bottle of milk he was carrying across Jongin’s head if provoked.

“Who the are you?” the man asked, frowning.

Was that his way of trying to be welcoming? Gee, the locals here are friendly. “I just moved here.”

“Oh yeah?” the man said, eyeing Jongin contemptuously. “What do you do?”

“I’m a police officer.”

The man scoffed and walked away, leaving Jongin more confused than offended. Was this meant to be a lawless town? He shoved that thought to the back of his mind and entered the service station. Grabbing a loaf of bread, a packet of instant noodles, and a couple of meat pies, he walked up to the checkout counter, where a tall man was looking at him curiously.

“I’ve never seen you before.”

Jongin barely managed to stop himself from sighing. “I just moved here.”

“Whereabouts from?”

“The city.”

The woman behind the neighbouring counter gave a derisive snort.

“Cool,” the man said, finally scanning the items Jongin had placed on the counter. “I’ve never been to the city.”

Jongin gave a vague nod. This place was definitely a hick town.

“Do you want a bag?”

“No, I’m good,” Jongin said, picking up the things he had bought from the counter before heading out to his car. He opened the passenger side door and dumped everything on the seat.

“Fancy car.”

Jongin startled and quickly turned around to face the man who had stealthily approached him.

“You’re new here, right?”

“Yeah,” Jongin said tepidly.

“Who’s the other guy?”

Jongin frowned. “Who?”

“The one who was driving when you came this morning.”

“My colleague,” Jongin said hesitantly. Was this guy supposed to be the town gossip?

“Like a business partner?” the man asked.

“No, we’re police officers.”

The man nodded, an indecipherable smile on his face. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

***

“I think the locals are weird,” Jongin said after closing the front door.

“You mean friendly,” Minseok said, walking up to Jongin but frowning when he saw what he was carrying. “Instant noodles? Really?”

“You didn’t tell me what you want,” Jongin defended, handing the loaf of bread to Minseok. “And I hope you were being sarcastic when you said the locals are friendly because I can assure you they’re anything but.”

“Our neighbour just dropped by with home-baked biscuits,” Minseok said, heading to the kitchen with the loaf of bread.

“Laced with arsenic?” Jongin asked, following him.

Minseok shot him a disapproving glance. “She was nice. Stop being so prejudiced.”

“I’m not,” Jongin said, placing the noodles and meat pies on the kitchen counter.

“You are.”

“How?”

“You have this preconceived notion that everybody here are weird country bumpkins. You’ve had a permanent look of disgust on your face ever since we got here,” Minseok pointed out when Jongin opened his mouth to protest. “If the locals aren’t nice to you, that’s because you deserve it.”

Jongin paused, contemplating, before giving a conceding nod. “I guess you’re right. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Minseok said, opening a small plastic container filled with biscuits and offering it to Jongin. “Try one.”

Jongin took one and gave it a tentative bite. “It’s not poisoned.”

“If it is I’d be dead.”

“It’s good,” Jongin admitted, popping the rest of the biscuit into his mouth.

Minseok replaced the lid on the container, looking pleased. “To be fair though, she was a bit odd.”

“Yeah?” Jongin said, positioning himself on the counter. A kitchen chair was something they should definitely add to their shopping list.

Minseok nodded. “She told me to call her Auntie Oh.”

“Must be a country bumpkin thing,” Jongin said, before adding quickly, “I meant that in a nice way.”

“Since when is calling someone a bumpkin a nice thing?”

“It’s the kind of lifestyle that I’m trying to adopt. You know, baking biscuits with Auntie Oh over yonder.”

Minseok frowned. “Seriously though, you should try to get used to this place. We’ll be here for a while.”

“Why?” Jongin groaned.

“I like this town.”

“Oh,” Jongin said. Minseok was always telling him to not get attached to any of the places they had moved to. “Well, if you like it then I guess I’ll just have to learn to like it too.”