dépaysement for everyone
Title: dépaysement
Recipient: everyone
Pairing: none yet, but eventual ken/ravi
Rating: g
Wordcount: 2058 words
Summary: Wonshik and his mother move in with his grandmother in Korea from France.
Notes: so this is really shitty, but i like the au and i plan to continue it eventually. thanks for reading c:
Wonshik didn’t have the most orthodox of upbringings. His mother rented a small bakery and the even smaller apartment above it, with just enough room for the two of them and the stray dog that would stop by for leftovers every now and then. His father was never really in the picture; the only remnants being a few hazy memories of his own and a worn oak cigar box that he kept in case he found anything special to keep inside of it. His mother never really talked about him, but the two of them were quite happy on their own - he’d never known anything else, really - so he didn’t mind.
He helped his mother around the shop by cleaning tables and sweeping floors and sometimes decorating pastries, though that was a rarity because most of the frosting ended up in his mouth and on his hands and all over his clean shirt. After the sun began to set and the number of people outside beneath the lights of the city began to dwindle, the shop long empty for the night, his mother would lay out books across one of the tables and Wonshik would have school.
When he wasn’t helping his mother or being homeschooled, Wonshik liked to take walks around the town. It was a small place just on the outskirts of Pérols; far enough from the coast that the smell of fish didn’t cloud the air, but close enough that business was still good. They got a lot of big orders from fishermen, and more foreigners than you’d think. Wonshik liked to make up stories about the people who came into their bakery; stories about travelers from strange distant places, about pirates and spies and criminals running from the law, about people who had traveled across ocean and sea for a taste of the magnificent breads and pastries made by his mother.
Sometimes he liked to think that his father might be a traveler, that maybe he could be too, someday. But he didn't dwell on it.
Wonshik didn’t just people-watch in the shop, though. On his walks, he would make up stories about the neighbors and the people who ran the shops around theirs. He had a theory that the man ran the shoe store a few doors down was hiding something in the back room, and the lady at the fruit stand across the street was the only one who knew about it. That was why he always gave her such good deals on shoes. To keep her quiet.
There were a few kids in his town, too, but none of them really talked to Wonshik. So Wonshik never really talked to them. That was fine. Wonshik was perfectly happy with his mother and sometimes the dog in their small apartment that always smelled like bread from their bakery below.
Until Wonshik’s grandfather died.
Wonshik returned from one of his walks one afternoon to the sight of his mother sitting at one of the tables, crying. She had gotten a call from her mother a few minutes earlier. Wonshik had never met his grandfather, and he wasn’t quite sure what a stroke was, but from what his mother said, they were going to be flying to Seoul in a few days to comfort his grandmother and go to the funeral.
In the days following, Wonshik’s mother spent a lot of time on the phone with several different people - usually her own mother. It became evident that they would probably not be returning to France, but they didn’t have terribly much in the way of necessities so packing wasn’t really that much more difficult.
Wonshik thought the permanent move might have something to do with the letters he found in the trash marked “Overdue," but he never said anything about it.
When he was packing, he was sure to wrap his father’s old cigar box carefully in some of his tee shirts.
☆
Wonshik’s grandmother’s house was nestled in a quiet neighborhood surrounded by trees, trimmed and kept yards in front of each cookie-cutter house. It was a far cry from the bustling cityscape he was used to, and the house smelled more of mothballs and potpourri than it did fresh bread, but his mother seemed happy to be with family and he got his own room, so he could learn to adapt.
His room had a large oak desk in the corner with a drawer full of envelopes and blank cards, a cedar chest at the foot of his bed that he had yet to open, and a window facing the side of the house next to theirs. He didn't have that much to make the room feel more like his, but as he was unpacking his clothes into the empty drawers of the desk, he got to his empty cigar box and decided to slide it under his bed for safekeeping.
For dinner, his grandmother made some dish he couldn’t pronounce with noodles and vegetables all mixed together and Wonshik got to use chopsticks. He’d used them a few times before when his mother made dishes from her childhood and such, but as he dropped a piece of mushroom for the fifth time back into his noodles, he decided he much preferred forks.
☆
The next day Wonshik met someone new.
Except, she wasn't so much a person as she was a plump grey tabby cat with a smudhed face and gold eyes he learned belonged to his grandmother. Her name was MungMung and she seemed to have taken it upon herself to follow Wonshik everywhere. It wouldn’t have been so bad if MungMung had let him pet her, but she for some reason absolutely despised him and wouldn’t even let him look at her without pinning her ears flat to her head. It was okay - Wonshik had always been more of a dog person, anyways.
Preparations for his grandfather’s funeral were in full-swing and there wasn't much Wonshik could do, so he stayed in his room for most of the day with MungMung asleep on his bed. Earlier that day his grandmother gave him a leather-bound journal and a new package of pens.
”Your mother told me you like to make up stories.”
He’d never really thought about writing his theories down, but he didn’t have anything better to do so while MungMung napped on his pillow, waking occasionally to hiss at him and shift positions, he sat at his desk and wrote. He filled a few pages with theories about people he remembered back home, and when he tired of that he wrote short poems. Somewhere along the line he became sidetracked and ended up staring out his window instead.
His gaze had been shifting in and out of focus in the vague direction of the neighbor’s window for a while after trying to trace each individual line of the shutters with his eyes. His absent daydreaming was interrupted when the neighbor’s curtain moved and a boy who looks to be close to his own age came into view.
He had cropped brown hair and wore thick-rimmed glasses, and he didn’t seem to notice Wonshik. Which was good, it was always just a little bit embarrassing when he was caught people-watching. The boy turned away and disappeared for a moment, and just as Wonshik was beginning to think of theoriesl about him, his mother called him from the kitchen.
☆
Living in Korea with his grandmother was very different from living back in France. For one thing, the food was much different, and Wonshik couldn’t help but miss the smell of fresh bread. For another, Wonshik couldn’t go out on walks anymore - at least not alone. His grandmother lived in a larger city, albeit in the suburbs, and neither she nor his mother thought it would be completely safe.
At the beginning, he found himself spending countless hours curled up on his grandmother’s couch watching television. They’d never had a television back home, so he watched as many different channels as he could, wondering if the programs would have been similar.
However, his grandmother would always come in and watch her own programs, boring things that put Wonshik to sleep, and his mother suggested that he was spending too much time in front of electronics. So, he ended up spending most of his time in his room, MungMung sleeping peacefully on his bed like always while he filled his journals with more notes and poems and doodles.
At some point he would always end up staring at the neighbor’s window. And, at some point, the boy would always come and open the curtains. Eventually, Wonshik began to write down theories about him.
He could never tell quite what the boy was doing. Sometimes he looked like he might be reading something - letters from someone far away across oceans and seas, or directions to a secret underground spy headquarters - other times he looked to be singing - or maybe screaming because he was being kept captive - and others he would just sit and stare off to the side. Wonshik could never tell what he was doing then, but he speculated that maybe he was a vampire, waiting for night to fall so that he could sneak out and claim his next victim.
☆
One day, Wonshik woke up to a familiar smell. He wandered to the kitchen and found the welcoming site of his mother baking bread. She brightened when she saw him and gestured for him to have a seat at the table.
"Good morning, mon chéri. Did you have a good sleep?"
"Oui, maman. Et vous?"
She gave him another smile and wiped her hands on her apron, "Oui, what sleep I had. I was up early to start on les beignets."
"Oh? Is something special happening?"
"Did grand-mère not tell you? We're having some guests over for breakfast, so I suggest you go get dressed." She swiped her thumb over Wonshik's cheek, leaving behind a smudge of flour. "I'll call you when they arrive."
☆
Wonshik hears the doorbell ring as he's pulling on his shirt, followed by the sound of his grandmother and a few unfamiliar voices. He tosses his nightclothes into the hamper and wanders to the entryway.
He hears his grandmother before he sees their guests, "Oh, and here he comes! Wonshik-ah, come say hello to the neighbors. This is Mr. and Mrs. Lee, and their son Jaehwan."
At least his mother always thought it important that he spoke the same languages as she.
Wonshik would consider French his mother-tongue; it’s what he used most, how he talked to all the vendors on the streets, the neighbors, and of course all the customers in the bakery. But Wonshik’s mother grew up in Korea and was fluent in the language, so she was sure to include both French and Korean lessons in Wonshik’s school, and when it was only the two of them together, she’d flip between to keep Wonshik sharp. This has resulted in him being next-to-fluent in both, but he’s always most comfortable speaking french.
Either way, he bows and mumbles a small hello to their guests.
His grandmother rambles on about how nice Wonshik is and that Jaehwan is around his age so they should be great friends, but Wonshik doesn't focus on any of it, too caught up on the fact that the boy he's been staring at for the past week is currently standing in his house.
Next thing he knows the adults are moving into the kitchen and Wonshik is instructed to show Jaehwan around the house until brunch is ready.
He doesn't know why he feels so nervous as he's leading Jaehwan down the hall, it's not like this is anything new, and he's used to people giving him odd looks when they discover him staring. For all he knows, Jaehwan hasn't even caught him. He gives the other boy a half-smile as he shows him his room, trying to be friendly.
"So you're from France?"
Wonshik nods and begins to tell him about where exactly he's from, eyeing Jaehwan as he walks to Wonshik's desk and runs his fingers over the smooth wood. He nods when Wonshik finishes speaking, then turns to look at him.
"So.. why have you been spying on me?"
Oh.
Merde.
mon chéri: my sweetie
Oui, maman. Et vous?: yes, mama. and you?
les beignets: literally 'the doughnuts.' different from american doughnuts, common breakfast food
grand-mère: grandmother
merde: shit
Recipient: everyone
Pairing: none yet, but eventual ken/ravi
Rating: g
Wordcount: 2058 words
Summary: Wonshik and his mother move in with his grandmother in Korea from France.
Notes: so this is really shitty, but i like the au and i plan to continue it eventually. thanks for reading c:
Wonshik didn’t have the most orthodox of upbringings. His mother rented a small bakery and the even smaller apartment above it, with just enough room for the two of them and the stray dog that would stop by for leftovers every now and then. His father was never really in the picture; the only remnants being a few hazy memories of his own and a worn oak cigar box that he kept in case he found anything special to keep inside of it. His mother never really talked about him, but the two of them were quite happy on their own - he’d never known anything else, really - so he didn’t mind.
He helped his mother around the shop by cleaning tables and sweeping floors and sometimes decorating pastries, though that was a rarity because most of the frosting ended up in his mouth and on his hands and all over his clean shirt. After the sun began to set and the number of people outside beneath the lights of the city began to dwindle, the shop long empty for the night, his mother would lay out books across one of the tables and Wonshik would have school.
When he wasn’t helping his mother or being homeschooled, Wonshik liked to take walks around the town. It was a small place just on the outskirts of Pérols; far enough from the coast that the smell of fish didn’t cloud the air, but close enough that business was still good. They got a lot of big orders from fishermen, and more foreigners than you’d think. Wonshik liked to make up stories about the people who came into their bakery; stories about travelers from strange distant places, about pirates and spies and criminals running from the law, about people who had traveled across ocean and sea for a taste of the magnificent breads and pastries made by his mother.
Sometimes he liked to think that his father might be a traveler, that maybe he could be too, someday. But he didn't dwell on it.
Wonshik didn’t just people-watch in the shop, though. On his walks, he would make up stories about the neighbors and the people who ran the shops around theirs. He had a theory that the man ran the shoe store a few doors down was hiding something in the back room, and the lady at the fruit stand across the street was the only one who knew about it. That was why he always gave her such good deals on shoes. To keep her quiet.
There were a few kids in his town, too, but none of them really talked to Wonshik. So Wonshik never really talked to them. That was fine. Wonshik was perfectly happy with his mother and sometimes the dog in their small apartment that always smelled like bread from their bakery below.
Until Wonshik’s grandfather died.
Wonshik returned from one of his walks one afternoon to the sight of his mother sitting at one of the tables, crying. She had gotten a call from her mother a few minutes earlier. Wonshik had never met his grandfather, and he wasn’t quite sure what a stroke was, but from what his mother said, they were going to be flying to Seoul in a few days to comfort his grandmother and go to the funeral.
In the days following, Wonshik’s mother spent a lot of time on the phone with several different people - usually her own mother. It became evident that they would probably not be returning to France, but they didn’t have terribly much in the way of necessities so packing wasn’t really that much more difficult.
Wonshik thought the permanent move might have something to do with the letters he found in the trash marked “Overdue," but he never said anything about it.
When he was packing, he was sure to wrap his father’s old cigar box carefully in some of his tee shirts.
☆
Wonshik’s grandmother’s house was nestled in a quiet neighborhood surrounded by trees, trimmed and kept yards in front of each cookie-cutter house. It was a far cry from the bustling cityscape he was used to, and the house smelled more of mothballs and potpourri than it did fresh bread, but his mother seemed happy to be with family and he got his own room, so he could learn to adapt.
His room had a large oak desk in the corner with a drawer full of envelopes and blank cards, a cedar chest at the foot of his bed that he had yet to open, and a window facing the side of the house next to theirs. He didn't have that much to make the room feel more like his, but as he was unpacking his clothes into the empty drawers of the desk, he got to his empty cigar box and decided to slide it under his bed for safekeeping.
For dinner, his grandmother made some dish he couldn’t pronounce with noodles and vegetables all mixed together and Wonshik got to use chopsticks. He’d used them a few times before when his mother made dishes from her childhood and such, but as he dropped a piece of mushroom for the fifth time back into his noodles, he decided he much preferred forks.
☆
The next day Wonshik met someone new.
Except, she wasn't so much a person as she was a plump grey tabby cat with a smudhed face and gold eyes he learned belonged to his grandmother. Her name was MungMung and she seemed to have taken it upon herself to follow Wonshik everywhere. It wouldn’t have been so bad if MungMung had let him pet her, but she for some reason absolutely despised him and wouldn’t even let him look at her without pinning her ears flat to her head. It was okay - Wonshik had always been more of a dog person, anyways.
Preparations for his grandfather’s funeral were in full-swing and there wasn't much Wonshik could do, so he stayed in his room for most of the day with MungMung asleep on his bed. Earlier that day his grandmother gave him a leather-bound journal and a new package of pens.
”Your mother told me you like to make up stories.”
He’d never really thought about writing his theories down, but he didn’t have anything better to do so while MungMung napped on his pillow, waking occasionally to hiss at him and shift positions, he sat at his desk and wrote. He filled a few pages with theories about people he remembered back home, and when he tired of that he wrote short poems. Somewhere along the line he became sidetracked and ended up staring out his window instead.
His gaze had been shifting in and out of focus in the vague direction of the neighbor’s window for a while after trying to trace each individual line of the shutters with his eyes. His absent daydreaming was interrupted when the neighbor’s curtain moved and a boy who looks to be close to his own age came into view.
He had cropped brown hair and wore thick-rimmed glasses, and he didn’t seem to notice Wonshik. Which was good, it was always just a little bit embarrassing when he was caught people-watching. The boy turned away and disappeared for a moment, and just as Wonshik was beginning to think of theoriesl about him, his mother called him from the kitchen.
☆
Living in Korea with his grandmother was very different from living back in France. For one thing, the food was much different, and Wonshik couldn’t help but miss the smell of fresh bread. For another, Wonshik couldn’t go out on walks anymore - at least not alone. His grandmother lived in a larger city, albeit in the suburbs, and neither she nor his mother thought it would be completely safe.
At the beginning, he found himself spending countless hours curled up on his grandmother’s couch watching television. They’d never had a television back home, so he watched as many different channels as he could, wondering if the programs would have been similar.
However, his grandmother would always come in and watch her own programs, boring things that put Wonshik to sleep, and his mother suggested that he was spending too much time in front of electronics. So, he ended up spending most of his time in his room, MungMung sleeping peacefully on his bed like always while he filled his journals with more notes and poems and doodles.
At some point he would always end up staring at the neighbor’s window. And, at some point, the boy would always come and open the curtains. Eventually, Wonshik began to write down theories about him.
He could never tell quite what the boy was doing. Sometimes he looked like he might be reading something - letters from someone far away across oceans and seas, or directions to a secret underground spy headquarters - other times he looked to be singing - or maybe screaming because he was being kept captive - and others he would just sit and stare off to the side. Wonshik could never tell what he was doing then, but he speculated that maybe he was a vampire, waiting for night to fall so that he could sneak out and claim his next victim.
☆
One day, Wonshik woke up to a familiar smell. He wandered to the kitchen and found the welcoming site of his mother baking bread. She brightened when she saw him and gestured for him to have a seat at the table.
"Good morning, mon chéri. Did you have a good sleep?"
"Oui, maman. Et vous?"
She gave him another smile and wiped her hands on her apron, "Oui, what sleep I had. I was up early to start on les beignets."
"Oh? Is something special happening?"
"Did grand-mère not tell you? We're having some guests over for breakfast, so I suggest you go get dressed." She swiped her thumb over Wonshik's cheek, leaving behind a smudge of flour. "I'll call you when they arrive."
☆
Wonshik hears the doorbell ring as he's pulling on his shirt, followed by the sound of his grandmother and a few unfamiliar voices. He tosses his nightclothes into the hamper and wanders to the entryway.
He hears his grandmother before he sees their guests, "Oh, and here he comes! Wonshik-ah, come say hello to the neighbors. This is Mr. and Mrs. Lee, and their son Jaehwan."
At least his mother always thought it important that he spoke the same languages as she.
Wonshik would consider French his mother-tongue; it’s what he used most, how he talked to all the vendors on the streets, the neighbors, and of course all the customers in the bakery. But Wonshik’s mother grew up in Korea and was fluent in the language, so she was sure to include both French and Korean lessons in Wonshik’s school, and when it was only the two of them together, she’d flip between to keep Wonshik sharp. This has resulted in him being next-to-fluent in both, but he’s always most comfortable speaking french.
Either way, he bows and mumbles a small hello to their guests.
His grandmother rambles on about how nice Wonshik is and that Jaehwan is around his age so they should be great friends, but Wonshik doesn't focus on any of it, too caught up on the fact that the boy he's been staring at for the past week is currently standing in his house.
Next thing he knows the adults are moving into the kitchen and Wonshik is instructed to show Jaehwan around the house until brunch is ready.
He doesn't know why he feels so nervous as he's leading Jaehwan down the hall, it's not like this is anything new, and he's used to people giving him odd looks when they discover him staring. For all he knows, Jaehwan hasn't even caught him. He gives the other boy a half-smile as he shows him his room, trying to be friendly.
"So you're from France?"
Wonshik nods and begins to tell him about where exactly he's from, eyeing Jaehwan as he walks to Wonshik's desk and runs his fingers over the smooth wood. He nods when Wonshik finishes speaking, then turns to look at him.
"So.. why have you been spying on me?"
Oh.
Merde.
mon chéri: my sweetie
Oui, maman. Et vous?: yes, mama. and you?
les beignets: literally 'the doughnuts.' different from american doughnuts, common breakfast food
grand-mère: grandmother
merde: shit