Translation Error [2]
It’s been two weeks of Yixing staying with Jongdae. Jongdae could only take off five days from work, but he managed to request his coursework be sent to him online so he can spend a bit more time at home. Yixing doesn’t seem to mind when Jongdae leaves, though; he’s always waiting for Jongdae when he comes home, perched on the couch, looking all too excited.
It's so domestic -- and Jongdae should be worried about how quickly he's settled into the routine, but he can't be bothered. It's just... nice.
It’s been two weeks of cooking, bubble tea, books, some new clothes, and Jongdae doing his best to save as much money as possible so he can comfortably afford the charger for Yixing’s bizarre device. It’s been two weeks of working on their communication, and although Yixing sounds a lot like a first-grader, his Korean has improved remarkably. Jongdae tries not to think about the fact that Yixing has absorbed the language, both reading and speaking, at an inhuman rate.
“Jongdae!” Yixing greets Jongdae on a Thursday evening when the other man comes home. “We have grilled cheese sandwiches?”
“Grilled cheese?” Jongdae repeats with a laugh at Yixing's dinner suggestion. “Uh, well… I guess?”
Yixing bounces off of the couch and into the kitchen, sliding around on socked feet. “Jongdae have good day?” It's the most Jongdae has seen him move.
“I’m tired,” Jongdae admits, but he’s smiling anyway as he enters the kitchen and opens up the fridge. “What did you do while I was gone? Besides look up recipes.”
“Recipe…” Yixing repeats.
“Um--” Jongdae scratches his head idly. “Recipe… for food. How to make food.”
“Oh-- Yixing look up lots of recipe!” Yixing says, sitting down at the kitchen table while Jongdae pulls out a frying pan.
“What other recipes did you look at?” Jongdae asks curiously. He’s been letting Yixing have free range of his laptop while he’s at work, and although it was almost a monumental struggle to get Yixing to figure out how to use it, Yixing quickly got fairly adept.
“Amer…” Yixing hums softly, seemingly trying to recall what he was looking at. “America....n?”
“Explains the grilled cheese,” Jongdae chuckles to himself. He starts buttering slices of bread, putting them into the pan. “Did you see hamburgers?”
Yixing nods, and then wrinkles his nose. “Meat. Not good.”
They learned really quickly that Yixing and red meat don’t get along. Which is a shame, really, because Jongdae is a master barbecue chef (or at least, he’d like to think). He’s been substituting with chicken and pork for the past two weeks and it hasn’t been bad, but he sure wouldn’t say no to a nice, juicy steak right about now.
“You can make hamburgers without meat,” Jongdae says.
“Without?”
Jongdae’s back is turned to Yixing while he speaks, busy putting cheese over the slices of bread in the quickly heating pan. “Yeah. You can make hamburgers with like… a turkey patty. Or chicken.”
“Not ham?”
Laughing, Jongdae hums. “I guess you could make a hamburger with ham.”
“Ham… burger. Burger ham.” Yixing always sounds so cute when he’s confused and trying to put two and two together.
Deciding that explaining hamburger is actually ground beef sounds like a task that Jongdae isn’t quite up to. He finishes making the sandwiches and then grabs a spatula, flattening them down into the pan, letting out a soft sigh. He’s tired from standing on his feet for the past few hours at the corner store…
“Jongdae tired?” Yixing asks, and the scraping of a chair lets Jongdae know that Yixing is standing up.
“A little,” he says, sending Yixing a smile over his shoulder.
“Jongdae feet,” Yixing says as he comes up to Jongdae’s side, his gaze down at Jongdae’s Totoro socks. “Hurt?”
“Kinda,” Jongdae tries to shrug it off.
“Yixing touch Jongdae feet?”
Eyes widening, Jongdae laughs a bit awkwardly and shakes his head. “No--”
“Good touch.” Yixing says, insistent, a smile on his features.
“Maybe later,” Jongdae concedes, with no real intention of letting Yixing’s deft fingers get anywhere near his feet.
“Later. Good,” Yixing says, satisfied with that. He looks down at his own feet and wiggles his toes, before pointing, “Feet. Toes. Ankle… shin. Knee.” he taps at his thigh, brows furrowed in thought.
“Thigh,” Jongdae helpfully supplies.
Yixing brightens and continues, “Thigh, hip, waist. Tummy… chest. Shoulders, neck,” he pats himself on the head, “Head.”
“Good job,” Jongdae praises with a smile. Yixing has really picked up on so much, it’s incredible. His grammar isn’t great, but his comprehension skills have improved, and even though Jongdae feels like he’s talking to a toddler sometimes, he’s happy that they’re able to communicate more and more each passing day.
“Set the table?” Jongdae asks. He’s sure that alone Yixing doesn’t understand those words separately, but when they’re all together in a question, Yixing complies. It’s amazing.
Yixing starts gathering things to set the table with and soon enough, he and Jongdae are sitting down and enjoying their meal of grilled cheese sandwiches. Yixing, although he has found a love for food, still eats like a bird and announces that he’s done after a mere three bites of his sandwich.
“You don’t really eat a lot,” Jongdae says as Yixing puts his leftovers on his plate.
“Yixing no eat,” the other says simply.
Jongdae tries to figure out what that means. “You don’t eat? You don’t… want to eat?”
“Yixing want eat,” Yixing says quickly, patting his tummy. “Food good.”
“Ok,” Jongdae wipes his fingers on a napkin and takes a drink of his water. “You don’t… need to eat?”
“Need?” Yixing asks, head tilting.
“I have to eat, or else… I will get sick,” Jongdae says. Saying that he eats or else he’d die would be a bit too vulgar, and he’s not sure if Yixing knows what ‘dying’ is, yet.
“Sick?” Yixing’s expression grows worried. “Jongdae eat lots! No sick!”
Jongdae laughs, “I won’t get sick-- I promise.”
Yixing calms down a bit, but his head tips. “Yixing no get sick.”
“Ever?” Jongdae asks, blinking.
Yixing shakes his head. “Yixing… immune.”
That’s a big word, but Yixing also seems to understand what it means. “Like, vaccinated?” Jongdae tries.
Yixing blinks slowly. Jongdae stares back. Huh. Guess not.
But if Jongdae is understanding what Yixing is saying… he doesn’t quite understand how Yixing functions if he doesn’t have to eat. Another mystery added to the strange man he rescued two weeks ago.
“Ah,” Jongdae remembers. “Tomorrow we can go get the charger for your phone.”
Yixing perks up again. “Charge?”
Jongdae smiles, “Yeah.”
Clapping, Yixing stands up and starts clearing away the dishes. “Yixing charge!”
Jongdae won’t correct him and say ‘Yixing’s phone charge’, because the last time he tried to do that, Yixing vehemently argued that no, not Yixing’s phone. Yixing charge. Jongdae doesn’t quite understand what that means… and normally, Jongdae hates not understanding things but he finds that the more time he spends with Yixing, the less he cares about knowing each and every detail about everything.
The night winds down and turns into them watching a movie on the couch. Jongdae always lets Yixing pick the movies and surprisingly enough, Yixing doesn’t rattle off a million questions about what they’re watching. Just like books, movies entrance him, and he focuses well on them. Tonight’s movie is a romcom, and Jongdae has seen it once before so he’s prepared for any questions that Yixing may or may not have.
The question that he wasn’t prepared for, however, was when the two main characters on-screen shared a kiss.
“Why lips?” Yixing asks.
Ah. Of all the things they’ve watched, Yixing has never seen anyone in these films kiss. And Jongdae isn’t quite sure if Yixing has seen anyone else (on the street, in a store, or just anywhere) locking lips, so the question surprises him but also makes sense. Surprises him, because he always forgets that Yixing seems to come from another world. Makes sense, because Yixing is the most curious person Jongdae has ever met.
“A kiss,” Jongdae answers.
“Why kiss?” Yixing asks, eyes still on the screen.
“Because they’re in love,” Jongdae replies, trying to keep it as simple as possible.
“What’s love?” Yixing shifts his attention to Jongdae now, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.
“Love… is when you really care for someone,” Jongdae says carefully. “When you’re really happy with someone.”
“Kiss is love?”
“Yes,” Jongdae hopes it makes sense and settles the score, and that Yixing will return to the movie. Because in all honesty, Jongdae isn’t prepared to talk about something he knows so little about. Sure, he loves his mom and dad and even his jerk older brother, but as for being in love… Jongdae’s never been. And he recognizes that, supports that fact about himself under the pretense that he’s just been too busy having fun and not caring about the consequences.
“Caring is love?” Yixing continues.
Jongdae nods. He’s connecting the dots.
“Happiness…” Yixing says thoughtfully, and his next words totally derail Jongdae.
“Yixing love Jondgae!”
Choking on his spit, Jongdae coughs a few times and thumps on his chest, turning horrified eyes over to Yixing, who looks genuinely confused at Jongdae’s reaction.
“No good?” Yixing asks, a bit of rejection in his voice.
“N-no, not-- well, uh--” Jongdae flounders a bit.
“Jongdae care. Jongdae happy. Jongdae save Yixing, teach Yixing,” Yixing says, sounding a bit more determined with each word. “Yixing care, Yixing happy. Yixing love Jongdae.”
“Well, yes, but--”
“Jongdae no love Yixing?” Yixing asks, and now Jongdae feels like a real jerk, because for the first time since they met, Yixing’s eyes are watering a bit. Despite how he’s talking, Jongdae thinks that Yixing really does understand love and the weight that comes with it… but he can’t express it adequately, and Jongdae just feels like garbage.
But he also knows that in the past two weeks… this is the closest to love he’s ever gotten. Someone excited to see him every day, someone who hasn’t gotten sick of his presence. Granted, Yixing can’t really understand Jongdae’s snarky jokes yet, and Yixing doesn’t really have any emotions other than default happy and curious, so it’s not like he can form any negative opinions about anyone, really.
Sighing, Jongdae reaches up and ruffles Yixing’s hair affectionately, still stalling in answering. Yixing nuzzles into his touch, and Jongdae studies his features quietly. Yixing’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly, but the rest of his features are still so smooth and soft.
“Yixing…” he starts softly. Yixing’s eyes open to meet Jongdae’s, and Jongdae suddenly wishes he had reacted differently. Seeing anything but happiness in Yixing’s eyes kills him, and it’s in that moment, that he knows. “Jongdae love Yixing.”
Sure, it’s been two weeks. Sure, this plot is something that could only come out of an anime or a manga or some other ridiculous drama. Sure, it might be taking advantage of Yixing’s naivety to say such a thing. But Jongdae knows that it’s mostly true. Yixing is beautiful, sweet and kind and so very patient. Jongdae knows he at least loves him on a platonic level, like how he loves Jongin and Sehun. And maybe… well, definitely maybe, Jongdae loves him a bit more than that.
At Jongdae’s words, Yixing titters in excitement, throwing his arms around Jongdae’s shoulders and hugging him tightly. “Jongdae love Yixing!” he chirps happily, and when he pulls back, he kisses Jongdae’s cheek. “Yixing kiss Jongdae~”
Laughing and blushing slightly from the kiss, Jongdae pats Yixing’s back softly. “Thank you for the kiss.”
Yixing’s eyes almost disappear, his cheek indenting from how wide he’s smiling.
“Yixing thank Jongdae.”
Jongdae is more than obliged.
--
Jongdae stands outside his apartment door on Friday, the strings of a bag held loosely in his curled fingers. On the other side of this door he knows Yixing is waiting for him to come home -- and not only that, he’s waiting for Jongdae to bring him the charger for his device. And, selfishly, Jongdae is contemplating on whether or not he should actually give the charger to Yixing.
Obviously, Yixing’s device will charge and boot up, and Yixing will be able to contact people. His friends, family, his government -- and he’ll start making arrangements to make his way back to China. He’ll get excited, like he does, and start babbling in that strange language as he tries to show Jongdae how the device works, even though Jongdae won’t understand a single thing.
Selfish. Yixing has a family, a home that isn’t Jongdae’s, friends that aren’t Sehun and Jongin. Yixing needs to go home, wherever his home is.
Jongdae’s gut sinks down to his feet. Maybe this is love. Maybe this awful feeling in his chest is realizing too late that he’ll lose the thing he has sort of taken for granted. The smiles, the laughter, the patience. He’s going to lose it all. Two weeks were too short a time for Yixing to be in his life, and Jongdae feels his eyes growing hot with tears, his knuckles turning white with how strongly he’s now gripping the strings of the tiny little bag.
Yixing deserves so much. He deserves the sun and the moon, he deserves his family and friends and the comfort of his own home. He deserves two bites of three delicious meals a day, he deserves bubble baths and bubble tea.
Jongdae doesn’t deserve to share in any of that. Especially since he’d considered not giving Yixing the charger. Like, what kind of asshole is he? One-night stand asshole, yes. Hit-it-and-quit-it asshole, yes. Sure I’ll take your number but secretly give you a fake one-- yes. All those kinds of assholes. But this kind of asshole is a new low, and for once in his life, Jongdae is self-aware.
He hates himself.
But… he does love Yixing.
And, as those cheesy storylines go: when you love someone, set them free.
Right?
Steeling himself, he opens the door to his apartment and Yixing is in his usual spot on the couch, a nature documentary playing on the television. He perks when he sees Jongdae, calling out a cheery ‘welcome home!’. Jongdae smiles a bit reservedly in response, taking off his shoes and coat and heading into the living room to sit down next to Yixing.
“I got the charger,” he says around what feels like a mouthful of cotton.
Yixing claps excitedly, holding out his hands. Jongdae takes the charger out of the bag and hands it over, watching as Yixing examines it.
“Charge,” Yixing confirms, before he picks up his device off of the coffee table.
Jongdae chooses that moment to stand up, smoothing his palms down the fronts of his legs to unwrinkle his jeans. “I’m gonna make some tea.”
“Tea please~” Yixing chimes, as he starts unraveling the cord that plugs into the wall.
Disappearing into the kitchen, Jongdae puts his hands on the counter and hangs his head between his shoulders. This is it. In about ten minutes Yixing is going to power up his device and start making arrangements to leave. This is how it has to be. Jongdae has taken in the lost bird, nursed it, and now he has to release it back into the wild. He’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. Yixing will be ok.
“Ok,” he says softly to himself, and then grabs the kettle to start filling it with water.
Entranced by staring at the shiny surface while the stove heats it up, Jongdae doesn’t notice Yixing come into the kitchen a few moments later. The hand on his shoulder startles him, and Jongdae turns to see Yixing smile warmly at him. Something is different in Yixing’s gaze. He looks more aware, more… confident. Less curious and more at grips with his surroundings, compared to how spaced out he usually seems.
“What kind of tea do you want?” Yixing asks.
“Chamomile,” Jongdae replies automatically as Yixing moves away to the cupboard where he keeps his coffee and tea. And then, Jongdae blinks.
And blinks again as he stares at Yixing’s back.
“Wait--”
Yixing turns around, hand stopping mid-way to reaching to the chamomile tea. “Do you not want chamomile? The only other option is green tea and if you have caffeine at this hour, you’ll be up all night.”
Jongdae’s heart is doing flip flops and his brain is having a hard time catching up. Yixing is speaking in perfect Korean. In perfect sentences. He’s speaking and moving so naturally.
“You-- uh,” Jongdae jumps when the kettle squeals, and he smacks his hand against the buttons of the stove trying to turn off the burner. Hissing softly, he grabs the pot holder to move the kettle to a cool burner, before rubbing his wrist.
“Are you ok?” Yixing asks worriedly, moving over.
“Don’t--” Jongdae flinches away, clutching his wrist to his chest as he stares up at Yixing with wide eyes. “Why can you talk so well now? What happened?”
Yixing blinks a few times, and then makes an ‘ah’ sound. He holds up his device; the screen is glowing blue, and Jongdae can see some Hangul floating across the screen. “My hardware is restored,” Yixing says. Symbols that Jongdae can’t recognize flit across the screen before converting into Hangul. “I can communicate properly now.”
“That’s--” Jongdae leans forward a bit. “What is it?”
Yixing smiles a bit, handing it over to Jongdae so he can fetch two mugs and some teabags. “It’s advanced technology that helps me navigate foreign worlds. Without it my speech processor malfunctions.”
“Speech processor…” Jongdae watches as more odd symbols convert into Hanja, and then back again. “A translation device?”
“I suppose that’s what humans would call it,” Yixing says, starting to pour the boiling water into the mugs.
“Humans--” Jongdae’s gaze looks up at Yixing sharply. “What do you mean by that?”
Yixing smiles serenely, that same soft smile that first had Jongdae enraptured. “I’m not human, so I needed a device to help me integrate into the culture.”
Jongdae feels his knees grow weak, and he stumbles to sit down at the kitchen table with a bit of a commotion. “But you-- how? What?”
Yixing sets down a steaming mug of chamomile tea in front of Jongdae, and then seats himself across from the man. He’s patient, still kind as ever… but Jongdae is starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s a few moments of silence between them, Jongdae staring at his mug and trying to process everything. Not human. Speech processor.
“So are you like… an alien…” Jongdae asks, recalling Jongin’s words the morning after he took Yixing in.
“I am an interstellar being,” Yixing confirms.
Jongdae starts rubbing his temples. “I think I liked it better when you couldn’t pronounce ‘hello’.”
Yixing laughs lightly, sounding a bit sheepish. It causes Jongdae to look up, and he can see how Yixing fidgets idly with his mug. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you… what I am. I couldn’t figure out how to explain it. And with my motherboard shut off, my basic functions regressed.”
“Motherboard-- you mean that thing?” Jongdae asks, looking down at the device resting on the table.
Yixing nods. “Not only does it help me process languages… It’s my lifeline. It holds all the data from everything ever recorded in the universe. That includes humans, their language, and something as simple as a microwave.” he smiles softly. “But while the device is shut off and I can’t communicate with it, it’s like… wiping the slate clean. I have to learn everything from scratch.”
Jongdae presses a bit harder against his temples. “Ok. So-- … Where are you from? Saturn?”
“Oh,” Yixing smiles brightly. “I am not of this solar system. It would take nine hundred human years to travel to my home planet with the technology Earth currently has.”
Man, this is hard to process. “Ok.” Jongdae heaves a sigh.
Yixing’s smile softens, “Ok. Good.”
Deja vu flashes through Jongdae’s brain, as it helpfully reminds him that those were the first two words he ever taught Yixing. Nostalgia grips him hard even though Yixing is right here in front of him, and Jongdae slouches in his seat, tipping his head back.
“Are you not pleased with this development?” Yixing asks, his voice sounding worried. Sounding like when he was sure Jongdae rejected his love.
“It’s-- I mean, it’s a lot to swallow, Yixing. It’s not every day you rescue someone off your front porch and they tell you two weeks later they’re an alien.”
“Interstellar being,” Yixing corrects softly.
“Right.” Jongdae’s chin tips down so he can level Yixing with his gaze. The scent of his tea wafts into his nostrils as he regards the man -- alien? Being? -- in front of him, and he tries to sort things out. This is still Yixing. Helpful, kind, gentle Yixing. Sure, he can talk much better now, communicate effortlessly, and can now probably register why Jongdae uses a microwave. Have things really changed? The only thing that’s different is… well, Yixing is more like an adult now.
“Do you not love me anymore…?”
The hurt in Yixing’s voice has Jongdae’s gaze focusing on the man once again. His heart squeezes.
“I do,” Jongdae replies softly.
“Then why do you look so sad?” Yixing asks, brows knitting.
“Because,” Jongdae sighs softly. “Despite everything that’s happened in these past two weeks, your device is on, and now you’re going to contact your mothership or whatever and have them come and get you, and you’re not going to be here anymore. It’s going to be just me, like how it was before, all alone. And I mean-- that should be fine with me, right? I’ve never taken anyone seriously, even myself. But there was this guy on my doorstep, and he looked so sad and alone, that I thought… it might be nice to not be sad and alone for once.” his voice gets quieter and quieter as he speaks before he finally falls totally silent, staring at his untouched tea.
“Jongdae,” Yixing says softly.
Jongdae lits his gaze just in time to see Yixing shut off the device, the floating translating words turning black.
“Yixing love Jongdae,” Yixing says, his words simple and his eyes honest. “Yixing not leave. Yixing stay with Jongdae... “ his eyes water a bit, as he places a hand over his chest. “Yixing home.”
The simple way of putting it is calming to Jongdae. This is the Yixing he’s grown used to, even if it isn’t necessarily how Yixing is. But it’s a true, honest reflection of the thoughts and emotions going on inside of Yixing, and Jongdae… rediscovers how beautiful the man -- alien, being -- is. After a few moments of silence, Yixing turns the device back on.
“I couldn’t leave you,” Yixing says softly. “I came to Earth to find a home. You gave me one.”
Jongdae isn’t crying. There’s condensation on his cheeks from the steam of the tea rising and hitting him in the face, ok.
“Jongdae?” Yixing pries softly, and Jongdae finally looks up at him.
“Stay,” Jongdae whispers.
Yixing smiles that serene, beautiful smile, reaching out to put his hand over Jongdae’s. “Yixing… stay.”
web counter