Ship/Member: Seokmin/Jeonghan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: actor seokmin, farmer jeonghan Permission to remix: No
***
Jeonghan wakes him up at five to feed the calf.
“It’s really—”
He can’t even say the word, because it’s like, well, no shit, Seokmin. In the morning, grass is wet. In winter, New York is fucking cold.
“You’re going to have to invest some of your Hollywood bucks in a new coat, hotshot,” Jeonghan teases, bemused. But he’s already pausing in his steps to take his scarf off. Seokmin nuzzles his nose into the red wool, grateful for the fuzzy warmth.
“What’s the calf’s name?”
“Oh— I tried giving her one, but she likes it better when I just call her Cow.”
“Cow,” Seokmin repeats. Jeonghan watches him closely for a reaction. “You just say, good morning, cow?”
“She likes it,” Jeonghan says, grinning. “It’s motivational. She’s going to grow up faster. You’ll see.”
The barn is surprisingly warm. The calf is nestling on a bed of hay, her eyes big as dinner plates.
“Hello, Cow,” Jeonghan sing-songs. He kneels, and she immediately nuzzles her velvety brown face into his outstretched mitten.
“Okay, okay.” Jeonghan’s been carrying what looks like a baby bottle, only it’s twice the size of his hand. When he holds it out Seokmin realizes it’s filled with milk. “You feed her milk? Isn’t that cannibalism?”
“Seokmin, how is that—” Jeonghan shakes his head, tamping down a smile. He pats the hay next to him forcefully.
Seokmin kneels, takes the bottle. He waffles a little bit as the calf blinks up at him, innocent, waiting. He feels ungainly and awkward all of a sudden. Next to Jeonghan he’s a teenager again. Too long limbs, trying desperately to impress an unattainable crush.
Jeonghan sighs. Seokmin opens his mouth to apologize on instinct but then he notices that Jeonghan’s eyes are smiling, and his mittened hands are rising to cover Seokmin’s.
They lift the bottle together. The calf cranes her neck forward and starts to drink and then doesn’t stop, tilting her head up excitedly, coughing when she goes too fast. Laughter spills out of Seokmin so hard that he almost drops the bottle, but Jeonghan steadies it.
“She’s so hungry! Slow down, slow down.”
“Told you calling her Cow makes her aspire,” Jeonghan says, smug. He's pressed against Seokmin's back. He's so warm. Warm as home.
Their calf stops drinking eventually. They watch her ears flick, her big eyes droop as she falls asleep again like a child. Do calves dream? Do they remember their mothers?
Jeonghan doesn't move away. His chin digs into Seokmin's shoulder. Their shadows on the dusky red of the barn wall look like one body.
Seokmin has this weird vision, a vision of a hundred years in the future, of the soft earth outside the barn. Of him and Jeonghan. Their two skeletons in the dirt, holding each other for all of eternity.
Later they walk back to the house, boots crunching steady in the snow.
Seokmin’s cheeks and ears are flushed. He wonders what the pasture looks like in the summer. He imagines dark rolling green, with bees and wildflowers and an endless sky. The kind that’s so blue it almost gives you vertigo.
Imagines Jeonghan in overalls and a wide straw hat, his face pinkened, sun-bright, humming under his breath. Jeonghan watching the stars. Jeonghan at the dinner table, his face softened in candlelight. Smiling the way he did in the barn. The way he always seems to do when Seokmin is around.
Seokmin ducks his head down against the neverending white of the world and tries to breathe normally. Being here feels like looking at a friend knowing that someday they’re going to change, or they’re going to leave you, or you’re going to leave them, and things will never be the same.
Things will never, ever be as good.
How the fuck are you supposed to go on? How the fuck can you live with that? How the fuck has he been living with it?
“Did you know that your thoughts are as loud as you are,” Jeonghan says, puncturing the nothingness.
His trucker cap is pulled low over his face, cheeks angular in the pale early morning shadows. But he’s looking at Seokmin and his eyes are steady, calm. Knowing.
Jeonghan doesn’t fear the same things.
Of course he doesn’t. Seokmin is being silly. Overthinking. Going anywhere but the present. He hasn’t learned. He hasn’t changed. But it’s no use crying over spilled milk because the field isn’t green now, but soon it will be. Soon Seokmin will be gone again.
***
a/n: this will probably change a lot in the future as i edit, but it's from a current wip! jeonghan is seokmin's childhood friend.
[FILL] be still, my indelible friend
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: actor seokmin, farmer jeonghan
Permission to remix: No
***
Jeonghan wakes him up at five to feed the calf.
“It’s really—”
He can’t even say the word, because it’s like, well, no shit, Seokmin. In the morning, grass is wet. In winter, New York is fucking cold.
“You’re going to have to invest some of your Hollywood bucks in a new coat, hotshot,” Jeonghan teases, bemused. But he’s already pausing in his steps to take his scarf off. Seokmin nuzzles his nose into the red wool, grateful for the fuzzy warmth.
“What’s the calf’s name?”
“Oh— I tried giving her one, but she likes it better when I just call her Cow.”
“Cow,” Seokmin repeats. Jeonghan watches him closely for a reaction. “You just say, good morning, cow?”
“She likes it,” Jeonghan says, grinning. “It’s motivational. She’s going to grow up faster. You’ll see.”
The barn is surprisingly warm. The calf is nestling on a bed of hay, her eyes big as dinner plates.
“Hello, Cow,” Jeonghan sing-songs. He kneels, and she immediately nuzzles her velvety brown face into his outstretched mitten.
“Oh no,” Seokmin says, his heart plummeting. “That’s so— that’s really adorable.”
“You feed her.”
“Okay, okay.” Jeonghan’s been carrying what looks like a baby bottle, only it’s twice the size of his hand. When he holds it out Seokmin realizes it’s filled with milk. “You feed her milk? Isn’t that cannibalism?”
“Seokmin, how is that—” Jeonghan shakes his head, tamping down a smile. He pats the hay next to him forcefully.
Seokmin kneels, takes the bottle. He waffles a little bit as the calf blinks up at him, innocent, waiting. He feels ungainly and awkward all of a sudden. Next to Jeonghan he’s a teenager again. Too long limbs, trying desperately to impress an unattainable crush.
Jeonghan sighs. Seokmin opens his mouth to apologize on instinct but then he notices that Jeonghan’s eyes are smiling, and his mittened hands are rising to cover Seokmin’s.
They lift the bottle together. The calf cranes her neck forward and starts to drink and then doesn’t stop, tilting her head up excitedly, coughing when she goes too fast. Laughter spills out of Seokmin so hard that he almost drops the bottle, but Jeonghan steadies it.
“She’s so hungry! Slow down, slow down.”
“Told you calling her Cow makes her aspire,” Jeonghan says, smug. He's pressed against Seokmin's back. He's so warm. Warm as home.
Their calf stops drinking eventually. They watch her ears flick, her big eyes droop as she falls asleep again like a child. Do calves dream? Do they remember their mothers?
Jeonghan doesn't move away. His chin digs into Seokmin's shoulder. Their shadows on the dusky red of the barn wall look like one body.
Seokmin has this weird vision, a vision of a hundred years in the future, of the soft earth outside the barn. Of him and Jeonghan. Their two skeletons in the dirt, holding each other for all of eternity.
Later they walk back to the house, boots crunching steady in the snow.
Seokmin’s cheeks and ears are flushed. He wonders what the pasture looks like in the summer. He imagines dark rolling green, with bees and wildflowers and an endless sky. The kind that’s so blue it almost gives you vertigo.
Imagines Jeonghan in overalls and a wide straw hat, his face pinkened, sun-bright, humming under his breath. Jeonghan watching the stars. Jeonghan at the dinner table, his face softened in candlelight. Smiling the way he did in the barn. The way he always seems to do when Seokmin is around.
Seokmin ducks his head down against the neverending white of the world and tries to breathe normally. Being here feels like looking at a friend knowing that someday they’re going to change, or they’re going to leave you, or you’re going to leave them, and things will never be the same.
Things will never, ever be as good.
How the fuck are you supposed to go on? How the fuck can you live with that? How the fuck has he been living with it?
“Did you know that your thoughts are as loud as you are,” Jeonghan says, puncturing the nothingness.
His trucker cap is pulled low over his face, cheeks angular in the pale early morning shadows. But he’s looking at Seokmin and his eyes are steady, calm. Knowing.
Jeonghan doesn’t fear the same things.
Of course he doesn’t. Seokmin is being silly. Overthinking. Going anywhere but the present. He hasn’t learned. He hasn’t changed. But it’s no use crying over spilled milk because the field isn’t green now, but soon it will be. Soon Seokmin will be gone again.
***
a/n: this will probably change a lot in the future as i edit, but it's from a current wip! jeonghan is seokmin's childhood friend.