Chapter Text
The heat the prickles his skin is as familiar as it gets. Paired with the scent off the trees that were lucky enough to remain beside lodges made from their fallen compatriots, Hansol knows this all too well. He has become a senior at this camp, or at least, he likes to think so. The wise sage who is knowledgeable of using the back door exit of the cafeteria on taco night without getting caught, the perfect storyteller of classic horror tales on s'mores nights, and the one who wears the revered C armband on the left arm. He did weights out of nowhere in spring after noticing a pile of his dad's dumbbells on the living room floor, and his tendons and muscles have now been endowed with outside form that he can proudly show off.
His mom kisses him goodbye after slumping his duffel behind his shoulder, and she embarrasses her for two things: her act of farewell, and the private drive. Hansol's worry for the second point dimishes greatly at the sight of his former camp friends hopping off their own vehicles, though they are also too distracted with their personal fusses that maybe his mom's way of saying goodbye was okay, to say at least.
"I saw that." Lee Chan remarked. He was twelve when the first met, red dots forming constellations on his face. He stays at Cabin Ten, home of the infamous gamers that sneak off their portable Nintendos and hold game nights so often that Hansol wonders how no confiscation inside their cabin ever happened. They barely talk to each other, though Chan always approaches anyone casually and without initial bashfulness. He leaves to meet a group of boys stretching and straightening their backs after tossing their duffel and backpacks on the ground. Newbies practice their howling at trees that thicken beyond their cabins, while the veterans breathe in the air of their summer home and chase each other off with leaves in their fists. Hansol refrains from using leg power to catch up with Chan, though he retracts back at the advantage of his height. He sprinkles a handful of earth in the concave of his sweater which Chan regretfully uses as a defense when he feels small, bumpy rocks hitting his head and dusting his hair. His hair grays as his face reddens, and his curled fist concentrates blood in it when it was supposed to meet Hansol's flesh, but the blow of the trumpet coerces him to put it down.
Dressed in his ash gray uniform with a sunny yellow bandana tied on his neck, Scout Master Yoon Jeonghan does not look as apprehending as his subordinate, the enthusiastic man muscle Choi Seungcheol. Nobody has ever really seen Scout Master Yoon mad, but previous campers said that it was the last thing to do in camp. Naturally, the boys lined up according to their previous cabin numbers, leaving the new ones arranging themselves, devoid from the rest. Scout Captain Choi talks to them and Hansol observes how his gums must have hurt from smiling too much at their new recruits. The newbies still look tense, but it gradually diminishes as the scout captain welcomes them one by one. They move to ascend on Scout Master Yoon's platform where Hansol remembered feeling humiliated for the numerous pairs of eyes on him, scrutinizing his young movements. Over the years he learned not to care about it since room assignment is only done once, which is the sole purpose of the new faces' recognition on the creaking leverage of wood. The sun shines brightly onto the huge pack of male youngsters who comprise the camp, but moreso at the ones that all stand in between the scout heads. One is particularly striking , hands timidly straightened on both sides as his face glimmers with sweat. Hansol's attention lingers a little longer at him the the rest of the boys, probably because he looks comical, and when he exchanges the glance, he smiles a little, the side grin accentuating the roundness of his plump cheeks.
Hansol feels something erupting inside of him, and it is a tidal wave that crashes pleasantly in his system, retracting back in the ocean and coming back at him relentlessly. The boy stands beside Scout Captain Choi, who leans in to chat as if no amount of socializing and conversations can sate his thirst. He is last on the line, so shiny boy has the time to juggle oranges in front of his exclusive spectator in shorts, though the other boys are also drawn at his act, receiving an audience beneath him.
"I expected more from you, Captain Choi, but I've been saying that for four years already." Scout Master Yoon frankly says with bored and tired eyes. "As for you, Rookie... Boo Seungkwan, save that for tonight's campfire. I'm assigning you at Cabin Six, just right beside the scout representative's of this year's camp." He pats Seungkwan's hair, glossy when the sun hits his head, and cues Scout Captain Choi to blare the trumpet. "A master of archery, he has developed such skill here at camp. I have seen him grow, and decided that Hansol of Cabin Seven is the rightful scout representative this year. This decision was made with the participation of Scout Captain Choi, and last year's representative, Wonwoo of Cabin Ten. If there are any objections, please stand forward."
A minute has passed, yet nobody complied with the scout master's words. Hansol's friends busy themselves with howls of encouragement and pats on the back, further pushing him to meet his senior superiors for his knighthood.
Hansol revers at the audible support bequeathed at him, the warmth of the smiles of the people around him and the sun that mildly toasts his skin, and the tightness of the armband that Scout Captain Choi straps around his arm. It is nothing sort of extraordinary in normalcy, but in the camp's culture, sporting the sole one demands respect. "Been working out, huh?" The scout captain chimes, patting the taut muscle that sucks the armband. Hansol nods, still dazed at everyone's acceptance, and oily boy that somewhat radiates like the sun offers a hand for an introduction, but the Scout Captain Yoon gathers them for a group photo, so he instead puts an arm around Hansol's shoulder as per protocol, but he taps Hansol's armband. Without breaking his smile and eye contact with the camera, he says "Show it off. Congratulations."
Along with Scout Captain Choi, Hansol gives a tour to rookie campers in the vast acres of the camp's perimeter. Outside the boundaries, however, is a nature trail publicly open to all, though its existence is one of the best-kept secrets of the boys and hiking partisans, maintaining its serenity and order as dictated by nature. Seungkwan asks about it during the walk, and the fair-skinned adult tells Hansol that it is part of his training to entertain questions brought up by such people. The scout captain then orders the crowd to circle behind him, and Hansol proceeds on with his first task as camp representative.
"It's nothing like the cities we grew up in. There's hardly any people there, but when there is, they'd give you coffee from their thermos, digestive biscuits, and free adult advice. It's Scout Master Yoon's favorite place. I saw him wearing duck pajamas whenever I wake up before the flags start rolling in and the trumpet is blown."
"Could not have said it better myself, son." Scout Captain Choi bemuses, claps at Hansol's experiential description of the place. He adds, "I don't know about your religious views, but that place is sacred. It demands respect, boys."
They pass by the lake where there are campers who are already paddling in their canoes, but stopped at the sight of the two to salute. The artificial white sand goes into their shoes when the scout captain dashes to scoop the minute particles, a resemblance of his complexion, with his boots and onto their shoes. He gives Hansol the authority to charge, leading the boys onto their next location. One of them asks the representative as they chuck their closed footwear off their bodies, and it s a question of a trivial, casual matter.
"Is Scout Captain Choi always like this?"
"You got that right. Everyday's Halloween for him." Hansol chuckles. "Still, take him very seriously. He's scarier than Jason Vorhees canoing in our lake."
The end of their chase, where the ebony particles from their feet spot the healthy ground of green and brown, is below the shade across a series of marked circles of painted hay. It seems to be untouched due to the absence of arrows stuck on them, but Hansol could still see the neon green marks that the tips of his arrows produced, ends that he secretly painted minutes before practice, and grins to himself upon seeing them amidst the distance. They walk towards the targets, and the scout captain pats the marked bull's eye, then proceeds on doing the same on Hansol's back.
"What does that mean, sir? Hit our representative on the back?" Seungkwan chimes comically and receives a whack on the head courtesy of Scout Captain Choi, who nonetheless, cannot keep his laughter from erupting in his lungs. Seungkwan becomes the star rookie of the squad, making everyone anticipate his presence for tonight's campfire. The tour ends where they first started, beneath the pole that displays their flag far from anyone to see from where they stood. Head tilting is always required, though the best view, in Hansol's perspective, docking his legs at a good distance in the trail is a marvel. The green and yellow sewn together slithers with the wind in most afternoons, and on some days when they have finished their tracks or courses, Hansol risks his bones and spine from being broken, though the fear has gradually melted, and he climbs up the sturdiest tree to admire the camp's panorama. For some reason, it is home, and reality slaps him the his end of stay here means his temporal loss for four years at his primary one as well.
His eyes automatically close as he cringes to the thought of college. The wind passes through him, nature's condolence to his personal anxiety of being far away from the comforts of his home. He tries to forget of what his academic future has in store for him, and he succeeds. Soon, he has one leg dangling off the branch where his lower body rested, and he takes pleasure at watching a mother bird feed her children with a beak full of squiggling protein. Hansol hums, at peace, taking in all what he has yet to lose.
The horn of the trumpet blares all throughout the camp, prompting Hansol to land back on the ground. He has done a great deal of writing and sketches from his secret aerial lair, though he might have taken a short nap up there too. Nature must have lulled him in light slumber, and he thanks his lucky stars for going back down in one piece. Scout Captain Choi greets him after instructing orders of illuminating the common area outside the cabins and he smooths his pitch black bangs before placing his hat. He looks like he took a nap because he looks energized and glowing, but the orange flames the cast their light on him is a major contribution. "Hope you had plenty of rest, sport. It's talent night! Also, our chef is whipping up heap loads of roasted chicken for dinner, with carrots and asparagus on the side."
"No way, sir." Hansol beams, and Scout Captain Choi only nods as he pats him in the back. They go from each cabin to the next, knocking and reminding its occupants of the schedule, to which the captain relentlessly chirps of tonight's feast and its accompanying vegetables. "They're buttered nicely! If you don't like them you can give them to me, but I won't be expecting any of you to be lining up in front of me." He says these words, have memorized them in his heart, and after informing his own cabin of it, Hansol suppresses his snickers as Scout Captain Choi fervently knocks on Cabin Six's door. It did not cross his mind that it houses Seungkwan and his new roommates, who are all in a serious round of playing Uno.
"So that's why you didn't hear me guys." The scout captain's head is tilted sideways, and his voice booms arrogantly. The cards of one of them drops from his hands that clutched them, and knowing that his superior likes to commit acts such as these, Hansol finds difficulty at maintaining a straight face. He ducks behind Scout Captain Choi, who peers close to the boys. "Seungkwan here is winning." He flicks a wrist and plucks his red card, leaving him with only one. He and the scout captain shrieks the two syllables of victory in unison, and his roommates groan, unamused that the brunette that roused them from their naps for a series of card games wins again. "You'll find the roasted chicken more rewarding, then!"
Seungkwan salutes, and Hansol peeks behind the scout captain. "Sir yes, sir!"
"It's not an order, son." Scout Captain Choi guffaws into a hearty laugh, and he points at all of them. "You, you, you, you, and you will all get an unlimited pass, just make sure to get your carrots and asparagus because we're under strict orders not to turn you into bouncing balls like that blondie in Willy Wonka's factory."
The boys look at each other, mouths agape at the news of their parentless luxury. Hansol gets a pat from Scout Captain Choi, who is getting up from his one-knee position that laid comfortably on one of the beds a moment ago. "I'm giving you five minutes to prep up, guys. Miss a second or the chicken will be gone." Seungkwan syncs eyes with the camp representative, who lingers his attention to him for a while. Hansol finds a reason, and that is because Seungkwan is clad in a perrywinkle sweater that swiftly distinguish him from the others' bleak colors and the interior's woody hues. Hansol becomes deathly curious if that is Seungkwan's favorite color, and he schemes of ways on how to ask him such a casual inquiry without having the intention that he dreads. They finish the cabin rounds, and when the two arrive at the cafeteria, the atmosphere is familiarly lively. Scout Master Yoon has his back comfortably resting on the spine of his chair, seemingly amused in a conversation with the Cabin Nine's celebrated craftsman, Mingyu.
"It's his favorite day tomorrow, how can I not forget?" Scout Captain Choi chuckles lightly, taking a seat beside Scout Master Yoon.
"The boy's been raving about how he's a hit with the ladies in... sewing class. His professor gave him an A plus in carpentry, too." Jeonghan recalls his conversation with Mingyu to his subordinate. When the scout master notices that the last of the boys scramble to their cabin mates, he rises, and this prompts Hansol from where he sits, strategically in the middle of the dining area where all can see him. They are diminished into hushes.
"The first cabin to line up varies at every meal time so that it's fair." Hansol announces with a voice he is not used to, and his confidence takes a toll on him. His eyes plead for help, and Scout Master Choi does gestures of rubbing his stomach and bursting his fingers from his palms. "Oh yeah, and don't eat too much, nor starve yourselves. We still have s'mores for campfire later."
"Hell yeah!" A boy not too far from him howls, and others roar in approval or due to humor.
"Other than that, Cabin One can line up now, and the rest shall follow suit." He ends his remark with a thumbs up from his bandana-wearing superiors, and Hansol sits down, blood still roaring in his veins.
"You did well, captain! If I were you I'd run next to the scout master." One of his roommates compliments. Hansol thinks of how his predecessor Wonwoo went through during his time, who, was rather timid as well, but had a league of people who respected him, Hansol included. Chan now sits on the previous representative's chair, eyes wide and crinkling for the most part as he and his cabin mates converse as a distraction for their stomachs. It does not take long, however, that the bothered looks on their faces appear, so some of them vacate their seats for tall glasses of cold water and cups of hot chocolate.
As always, the roasted chicken is delectable. Dinner back at home is a replication of some of Hansol's favorites, and he remembers a lengthy trip at the grocery with his parents which they spent on guessing the ingredients of the camp exclusive. He mistook asparagus for rosemary, noting the greens as he had imagined, but when it came out of the oven, his mom only laughed at his obvious disappointment. The gravy that accompanied it was awesome though, and the strawberry parfait for dessert made up for his mistake. Since then, his mom reminds him to get the recipe from the camp's chef, but it is her annual reminder that solely defines his forgetfulness and ignorance. To this day he still has not entered those two doors separating the cafeteria and the kitchen, asked for the secrets of the wondrous dinner that former campers still reminisce, and exited merrily with a handwritten list of the process.
Hansol's train of thought gets disrupted when he hears somebody from the other table conversing to his seatmate about his own daydreams. "I kid you not, it has herbs that have been combined perfectly! I wouldn't even imagine putting them together." The boy chimes, and Hansol swivels half of his body to reveal that it is Seungkwan speaking to a very amused cabin mate. Perhaps his voice was too loud, as he wonders why his senses react in the swiftest way possible. He reaches out to tap his shoulder and deliberates whether it should be done faintly or with force, but even before Hansol's fingers rest on Seungkwan's skin, Cabin Four's Nick sets a flying chicken on Hansol's hair, slipping and landing on the side of his plate. His vegetables look very disorganized on his tray, and before the rest of the boys can react, he fumes out his anger on the first person his eyes can land on. He rats Seungkwan out without a real reason why, and he spurts out incoherent bursts of shouts and words that caused everyone near the scene to raise an eyebrow.
"Bro, you all right?" Hansol steps out of the bench, raising Nick through his forearm. He fakes his placidity in front of him as he keeps his huge disappointment and anger at him for irrationally cursing Seungkwan, shooting him a look of concern as Nick pathetically cleans himself off. The Scout Master and his subordinate goes behind him, and without any remorse, blames Seungkwan for his accident.
"Sport, is he correct?" Scout Leader Choi inquires, a hand resting on his shoulder that Hansol should have tapped earlier, fingers secretly squeezing it lightly. The scout leader discreetly glances at him worriedly.
"N-no, sir."
Scout Master Yoon observes the nodding of some campers, and questions Nick coldly. "Did you make this up?" Getting a frantic reply from the boy did not help, further proving his faux innocence. "Situations such as these aren't new, so get up and eat your meal in peace." The two left an awkward Nick standing between the boys of Cabins Five and Six, hostility evident in their faces. Seungkwan gets another leg of chicken from his farthest cabin mate that he just finished off in Uno twice earlier, and when everything is back to place during dinner time, Hansol stretches his body to the side and pats him. He gets the shock of his life when Seungkwan covers his hand with his and shows a thumbs up.
If it was not for Seungkwan's hand support, Hansol might have been the second person to fall at dinner.
"What are you? One-third of the Three Blind Mice?" Chan taunts Mingyu as he casually makes his way on a vacant log. Mingyu removes his pair of sunglasses furiously, carefully placing them on top of his hair, but the fumes of the gas starts to sting instantly. Chan relinquishes a hearty laugh, and it further maximizes in volume when Mingyu tries to chase him with the container and threatens him out of anger. Chan bites back with a reminder that nobody forgets not to give Mingyu any incinerator at camp without supervision. Mingyu, in defeat, goes back to work, and when it stings too much he puts back his pair of sunglasses on. His efficiency is one of his best traits, and by the time the campers flock the surrounding logs, mostly in pajamas for bed and some in clothes before showering, Mingyu hands out Hansol sticks to manually make his own fire, blazing and eating the fuel the Cabin Nine distributed on the wood.
"I'd prefer if you guys skip the gas." Hansol remarks, and his nose crinkles at its offensive smell.
"I don't like it either, so I don't mind if my boys and I look for more logs in the woods. Sure you wouldn't tire yourself of doing the fire over and over again? Both you and I know that dessert is the best part of the first night."
Hansol quirks an eyebrow, eyes confident on Mingyu. "Would I fail you?" Mingyu shakes his head and puts an arm on Hansol's back, who separates from him for his own cabin. Mingyu's cabin mates make the prettiest and cleanest s'mores, toasted nicely on the sides and warmly gooey on the insides that mesh so well with the chocolate that Mingyu never fails to bring at camp. It differs greatly from the other camps' sweetened cocoa, as his preference of almost all things are luxurious, and only Swiss chocolate passes his standards. He and his cabin mates gobble them up in no time, eaten at rapid rate because Cabin Ten has adapted to their permanent seatmates' manners. Chan considers himself lucky for plucking half of Mingyu's s'mores before he consumes his third one entirely, since most of his cabin mates got none, especially the rookies. A furious Mingyu starts scolding Cabin Ten especially Chan, but they nod to every word and compliment how Cabin Ten's s'mores have always been the best, and in turn, Mingyu and his cabin mates are shrouded with praises that they start the late night event like they did not even argue in the first place.
In the morning, sweat trickles on the boys' bodies on a normal basis, but not all bothered to change into a new shirt to lessen their laundry days. Campers like Hansol knew how to prevent bacteria inhibition in their clothes by drying off at a tree, and some really take three showers a day in their respective cabins. Air conditioners are sought after in the afternoons, and that is when occupants of Cabin Ten are the loudest. Cabin Nine does not seem to mind because they were either heavy sleepers or outside doing some activity, so nobody demands a cabin relocation.
It is, however, a different situation at night, as the campers huddle together for warmth, stuffing in toasty s'mores and gulping down hot chocolate as if dinner was non-existent. Food abundance has always balanced out the boys' rigorous activities at camp, and instead of preventing them to eat, Scout Captain Choi even encourages them to have another serving, no plate of mashed potatoes nor a thermos of steaming hot cocoa is left full because of his persistence. Now clad in his polka dotted indigo pajama set, the scout captain perfectly blends in with the campers, if not for the yellow triangle tied around his neck. He exudes the glow of a teenager unwary of the business adults have to pertain to, and his gummy grins and hearty laughter make the boys half a decade (and more) younger than him forget of the power he holds. Scout Master Yoon seems to find comfort at switching from log to log and interview the boys' initial camp experiences. At the end of his rounds, no one expected him to stand behind their blazing source of warmth, chest raised and his palm open to show what it appears, a neon green sticker. The scout master grins from ear-to-ear, and Chan and Mingyu look at each other with mouths agape and eyes round like saucers.
"What's he up to now?" Chan swats Mingyu's side when they gaze with fear at their camp superior. Mingyu frantically glances at the scout captain, but his face implicates mild confusion. Guess he would not be as helpful as he thinks he is.
"I don't want anyone here getting indigestion and diabetes from having too many campfire snacks, so allow me to give you entertainment. Now," Scout Master Yoon waves for Seungkwan and turns his shoulders to pat a similar sticker in color on his back. "Those with stickers tampered onto their backs, would you kindly stand up and stand beside me." That sends everyone scurrying to check each other's backs, and when Scout Master Yoon catches his subordinate comfortably placid on their log, he instructs Seungkwan to go to him, and soon, everyone pauses for a moment as they witness the rare sight of the second highest leader of the camp being hauled by one of the newest recruits in front of them. All throughout the comical coercion, Scout Captain Choi is in a fit of giggles as his his arms are stretched with all of Seungkwan's force, leaving a trail of human force in the ground. The boys start to laugh and Seungkwan wish they did not, because they could have at least helped at his physical struggle. The scout captain winds an arm at a panting Seungkwan when he straightens himself up, and Scout Master Yoon, who obviously got a good nap in the afternoon, gleefully announces the start of talent night. Chan and Mingyu hold each other on the shoulder and sigh in relief; God only knows how Scout Master Yoon will direct talent night since his subordinate settles in voluntary show and tell, so now that their mini heart attack has settled in for comfort, they can relax in their seats.
Scout Master Yoon has a good eye for talent, for in a short span of time, his general survey of the boys' personalities makes this year's talent night the most memorable one. Hansol refrains the bugging reason that it is going to be his last one, but he thoroughly and genuinely enjoyed each of the camps' representative's skits, stories, and shows. Scout Captain Choi is a stellar storyteller, and much to the boys' anticipation, he brought another horror tale fresh from the university he taught at, and the camp becomes so silent that the fire's cackle sounds has Chan digging his fingertips on his knees, Mingyu shunning his face from the rest of the world by curling up his body, and Hansol hitching a breath whenever the scout captain's expression varies in the most terrifying ways.
"Oh God, what was that?" A camper frantically frets when the rustle of the woods audibly spooks the boys, and panic consumes them. The supervisors, along with Hansol, take charge in demanding order, and Scout Master Yoon jabs his subordinate on the side for causing the catastrophe.
"I don't want to interlude but frankly and realistically speaking, if you guys won't join the night trail in the next few weeks, you'll miss out half of the fun this summer." Scout Master Yoon says without a hint of regret. "There's no way out, because every one of you will be out there with your flashlights by twos in search of campfire wood. Anyway, you wouldn't mind me telling you a story about Scout Captain Choi making headlines?" There is a sly smile at the end of Scout Master Yoon's lips, eyes gleaming with mischief. The scout captain lunges towards him, but his arms flap wildly like the flames of the fire when Hansol dodges to intercept. Scout Master Yoon pleasingly claps at the camp representative's agility, and he momentarily shifts his attention at his campers who has eased up from the mild scare that they had earlier, and his smile widens at their lightheartedness. "I hope this serves as a warning to you boys, since you don't want to be like your dear scout captain here. Well, I don't know who in the right mind decided to have the university's teaching staff party in Las Vegas, but at least we had a good time, Seungcheol here, especially."
"This is gonna be good." Mingyu giddily whispers to Chan, who spurts out his chocolate drink as a reflex. One of his cabin mates rubs his back and snickers at his words of contempt, mostly directed at the pain in his nose, and the rest at Mingyu.
"So you know Scout Captain Choi isn't the best dancer, but he tries to be. He, however, becomes possessed by the powers of the fifties and eighties combined when his alcohol intake is more than expected, and..." The crowd starts to howl and wheeze in laughter when the scout master threads his knees and hops on them, while his shoulders hunch forward and sings in a baritone voice with an invisible (old mic) clutched near his mouth. He immediately draws himself up, but he snaps his fingers and waves his body to a songs that he croons in a richer tone. Hansol recognizes Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' and sings along with his superior, who maximizes his voice, and soon everybody who knows the lyrics or the tune does the same. Scout Master Yoon takes control of his own laughter and proceeds to talk, but with much difficulty in carrying out the task. "...well, you surely have an idea of what Captain Choi did last semester, and contrary as to what the saying goes, no, it does not stay in Vegas, because I caught it on film. Better prepare yourselves boys, and don't choke on your omelettes tomorrow morning. Better chug it down with your choice of milk, OJ, or apple juice."
'So that explains the projector in our cabin!' Scout Captain Choi's brain rings in alarm, and he restrains himself from either: a) throwing the scout master out in the open fire and traumatizing the boys like he was when he first watched the Revenge of the Sith as an ten-year-old, b) tickling him to death. He opts the second option, and plans his revenge in their cabin.
"With a heavy heart, I now regretfully commence this gala campfire," Scout Master Yoon announces, and Scout Captain Choi tut-tuts at his dramatic announcement. "So what better way to end this night with a song by Seungkwan?" The scout master retreats to his seat, and Seungkwan earns good-natured cackles from the boys at the sight of his makeshift microphone, a marshmallow pierced on a twig.
Seungkwan seems to float buoyantly, and everything about him is radiant. It is a matter of perception, a personal ingress of thoughts that one attaches to someone, because if his camp superiors emit ascendance, the fire behind him makes him glow. Hansol would very much like to detach his eyes because it is too blinding, but he continues to pours his whole focus on him, unable to look at anything but him, oblivious to the seemingly permanent grin that he presently has on his face. It still is present when Seungkwan glances at him, though he becomes aware of its existence, and its falls greatly but does not meet its ultimate end, and Hansol retains a budding smile when Seungkwan starts to sings. Hansol fails to notice that his gums have started to hurt, but it mellows down, and Seungkwan twiddles his voice to a melodic yodel, no percussion nor strings required. The cackles of the fire add was more of an enhancement than a disturbance, and everyone is in trance of the boy in his perrywinkle sweater and navy pajamas, eyelids closed when he hits particular notes, and he ends it smoothly when no one expected him to since it feels good to hear, a velvet hypnosis that reigns over their hot cocoa.
"I miss home." Scout Captain Choi says softly in Korean, eyes glistening, and he tries his very best that they remain stationary in his ducts. Scout Master Yoon raises himself even though his seated self wants to remain on the log, and he replies with a fond smile, his own pair for sight similar to his immediate subordinate. He brings his two hands for an applause, and soon everyone is cheering for Seungkwan, who bows at them, taken aback but greatly acknowledges their audible appreciation.
"Only God knows the many times I played that song when it came out." Mingyu tells Chan excitedly, and he seems to be boiling up another snarky comment but he spoils his mind with his talkativeness and agility. "I learned how to play the guitar because of Busker Busker."
"I wouldn't throw you pennies at Santa Monica Pier." Chan sneers, and his remark insults Mingyu. Upsetting comebacks are always directed toward him, but he has not gotten used to with this unique Chan charm. "People with those mismatched skin tones and cameras hung on their necks might, but they'd regret their decision."
"Some vivid imagination you got there." Mingyu sneers at Chan, but he gleams a saccharine smile at Seungkwan and hi fives him when he passes by. He turns to Chan again, eyes hollowed and voices out his contempt. "Don't you get sick of the beach?" Mingyu snickers in a vile manner that Chan hears for the first time. The campers are signaled to clean their areas and get ready for bed, and when Chan busies himself with the supervisors' earlier commands, Mingyu bumps into him purposely, his contact coming close between a strong, bony force of a football edge's thud. "I know for one that you can't swim." He says defiantly, and proceeds to walk off with the rest of his cabin mates.
A cabin challenge on the first night is too premature, Chan thinks secondarily, but his instincts get the best of him. While most of the other cabins are already tucked in the comfort of their bunk beds, or into another round of the games they brought (Cabin Six lent theirs to Cabin Five), Chan presents himself in the bleakness of their room, the only illumination coming from his portable night lamp. He secures the curtains for a tall, looming figure with a preference for fancy chocolate. He carefully pulls a whiteboard and its accompanying marker from his bed, his heart almost wrenching at the possibility of the creaking sounds it might produce. His old cabin mates are much aware of this situation, and they only rely through fast scribbles on their own whiteboards (Chan almost had a heart attack for five times), or by whispers so inaudible that their confused looks signal retelling of plans. It sounds frustrating, but Chan holds a great deal of patience, completely at par with his best strength that befits him of owning a spot in Cabin Ten.
Strategy.
There is something satisfying about hearing his knuckles crack, more so his whole body as Seungkwan expands his whole body gradually upright, and from right to left. He does his morning routine without haste as the he gains his exclusive right of basking in the rays of sunshine that presents itself bashfully in the circumference of their living quarters. He goes back to his bedside table and grabs a thermos of hot chocolate, which he shakes first before pouring a cup of the lukewarm drink. Perched on the stairs, Seungkwan keeps himself occupied with nature's amusement, both tranquil and beautiful at the same time. He never regrets going here, even though he encountered a little slip off with the hothead of Cabin Four last night. He has tolerated much more madness at his age, from social status bullying in his hometown of Jeju to cafeteria food fights in his current high school. A successful orange farm business and a student body position later, Seungkwan fends off Nick's petty accusations without a thought, and he goes back to his newfound peaceful hobby. He makes it a point to wake up before everyone else does, because it really is rewarding.
Seungkwan automatically raises a cup when he sees the cabin with the number '9' on top, remarkable and exuding a certain kind of allure in its stance. There stood on the doorway is Mingyu, and his chest pumps out as his whole back curves, a stance actually beautiful for someone who exceeds in height as him. His scrunched face and half closed eyes try to garner warmth from the sun, and when Seungkwan tries to look away he hears a sound of a heavy mass falling. He leaves his thermos for the ants to feast on, and he prances to where Mingyu groans in pain. The flooring of Cabin Nine is much different that theirs, and Seungkwan wonders if the renovators missed Mingyu's cabin, but he slides a finger beside his friend who held on his hips dearly, and Seungkwan smells the slimy substance. The scent hits home.
"Uh Mingyu, did you happen to step on a bottle of aloe vera last night?" He questions, but he soon notices that the cafeteria is brought to life by the chef, and for the second time that morning, Seungkwan paces from the kitchen to get two packs of ice to an agonized Mingyu. He thanks him profusely in between expressions of pain, all while some of his room mates who were roused from their slumbers investigate the scene.
"The rain last night was pretty terrible, wasn't it?" Says the stabilized victim who has his upper body resting on the front door of his cabin. Seungkwan shoots him a confused look. "It rained hard yesterday night, the water was-" Mingyu makes a quick survey of the land, all damp. He fumes in anger, and bolts from his seat despite the numbing pain.
Chan: 1
Mingyu: 0
Hansol blares his trumpet, smooth and domineering in its quality of sound, and it is one of the privileges that representatives get to own and take home after leaving camp for good. He holds preference over camp than school, he admits, so it is no surprise that he gets out of bed earlier than usual. The campers follow suit, appearing from their cabins as walking sloths who are unmindful of the whirlwinds that struck their hair. Cabin Nine deserves an award today, he thinks, as they were already huddled in the porch of their home. From sloths to zombies, the boys head to the cafeteria.
All but Cabin Nine. Hansol is about to call for them when Seungkwan jogs towards him and pats him with a casual warning. "I wouldn't get involved, if I were you."
Hansol's eyebrows furrow in alarm. "They're starting off as early as this time?" Mingyu and Chan are not exactly the best of friends, so sometimes they go overboard with their pranks. Only Mingyu and his Cabin Nine mates seem to fit in the standards of the friendly fights that their neighboring campers initiate, and one of the best days of camp involved Mingyu red with rage as he held a baby chick in his hand when he knocked at the door of a waiting Wonwoo. Cabin Ten's former premier camper failed to keep a straight face, and his laughter boomed all throughout camp after yelling, "BOK BOK, BRO!" It was the only juvenile act that reached the supervisors up to this day, and Wonwoo, then fifteen, got the equivalent of two warnings before he was almost suspended from camp. Campers that year clucked in high pitch when Mingyu was around, and he declared that it was the worst summer camp ever. Wonwoo gave him his skateboard at the trunk of his dad's car instead of saying sorry, and he even helped him build his own ramp in the Kims' backyard during spring break. "It's camp. We need not to worry every morning, since it's their problem." Hansol shrugs, and he walks Seungkwan to the cafeteria's entrance, tempted by the whiff of cinnamon and bacon and his invitation to go inside, but duty calls. Mingyu is a hard shell to knock, both figuratively and literally, so Hansol schemes of ways to entice him and the rest of Cabin Nine away from loitering in front of Cabin Ten, though when Chan beams at them, unapologetic, Mingyu makes his way to Hansol guesses, strangle him, Chan piggybacks Mingyu, and he thrashes out of his grasp but the former tightens his grip, pats his back gingerly, and promises to get him more ice. Mingyu constricts Chan's chest with his crossed arms as a response, and he continues to have Mingyu on his back until he is seated at his spot in the cafeteria.
Hansol drowns in his own seat, weary of the thought that he had to go through the two cabins' nuisance everyday for the next eight weeks. A sip of his apple juice and a quick glance at the two farthest logs, who are now minding their own business, settle him, for now. In the midst of his cinnamon bread and bacon and eggs (the chef does wonders of them oil-free on their plates), Hansol notices that the vacant seats facing them are occupied with more familiar faces. Mister Lee of knots and wall climbing camp consumes his eggs like air, a skill he competes with Scout Captain Choi, who also gives a run for his money when it comes to his complexion. Mister Wen likes to drink his fizzy grape juice every morning, an exclusivity he is privileged of as an instructor. He gnaws on his cinnamon-sprinkled crunchy toast as he waves at familiar faces who are enthusiastic to see him at the archery range and the studio, and at the end of the table sat Mister Hong, stabbing a piece of bacon. His lanky figure and bad morning posture are a terrible hindsight of what he is capable of teaching the boys, but everyone who has been familiar of pacing around the camp does. After washing his plate and utensils in the sink, he salutes at his additional supervisors, and Mister Lee vocalizes his delight with a prolonged 'O.'
"You've outdone yourself!" Mister Hong exclaims, and Hansol shrugs humbly. Mister Wen pats him in the back with ceaseless enthusiasm which started to tickle Hansol, but it dies down as his attention is drawn to the scout master. The wheels in motion squeak at his disposal, and Scout Captain Choi almost charges at him when he stopped, but Scout Master Yoon has the endurance of a squirrel, so he prances with ease and laughs lightly while he is at it. With the speed of light his index finger dodges on his half folded Macbook's spacebar, covertly camouflaging itself at a corner, and to his horror, the mp4 file "Sloshedcheol" plays. The speakers blare Elvis Presley's 'Jailhouse Rock' amidst the whoops and cheers in the video, which is also drowned by the incessant howling of the boys. Scout Captain Choi gets restrained for the second time, courtesy of Mister Hong and Mister Lee, who, amidst the tears in their eyes, are perfectly capable of withholding him.
"So you're into this too!" Scout Captain Choi hisses. Mister Lee gladly informs him that his camp superior tasked Mister Wen to circulate the plan to them, but one glance at him tells that he is not of much help. Hansol has been fervently rubbing his back now, having choked on his much loved violet Fanta. Reciprocity at its finest.
"We gotta take notes from Scout Master Yoon." One of Mingyu's cabin mate quips behind him, and he glances at the occupants at the table beside theirs.
Mingyu snickers, voice low. "They had their helmets and pads ready in their room. You know Chan and his mates, they're awfully advanced in everything." Chan catches the two huddled in conversation amidst the morning ruckus (A drunk Scout Captain Choi was shown dancing to Rick Astley's hit, and a kid was already laughing haplessly on the ground, but his cabin mates were too preoccupied in cackling ceaselessly as well), and he smirks before Mingyu turns around to look at him. He goes into his laughing default again.
To Chan's dismay that afternoon, he finds out that Cabin Nine ditches their usual knots and ropes for the scout captain-led trail. Cabin Ten made it a point to sign up after everyone else did, but here came Mingyu and his pals, spraying Nivea Sun Protect all over their bodies. The Catholic in him wants to drop his gear and visit a church ASAP, but he doubts the Lord Almighty will listen to him after missing his prayers for two days already.
Chan walks up to him, arms crossed and a foot tapping. "Fancy seeing you here! Mister Lee wouldn't have his favorite student on his day one? Shocking."
"The boys and I think it's about time for a change. Don't want to get tangled up in a mess before the sun sets, anyway." Mingyu bites back. In the midst of it all Chan accepts his offer of spraying sunscreen on his exposed skin, not wanting to be the toasted marshmallow that he mass-consumed yesterday night. He hears a zip as his eyes were closed, but upon seeing that it was just his cabin mate slinging his backpack, he fends it off without question. "How about you guys? Biking isn't your thing anymore?"
"Touché. Gotta work on our walking for our biking. Don't worry, if you want to sign up for Mister Hong tomorrow we can, together." Chan wiggles his eyebrows so much that Mingyu wishes they start to fall off, and the thought of it has him chortle in his own deluge. Chan stupendously eyes him with irritation.
Scout Captain Choi's voice bellows, and he takes notice of his company. "Cabins Nine and Ten? Are you guys gum or something?" He titters in his own little joke, a lackluster remedy to this morning's humiliating show, and he orders them to line up behind him by twos.
"Go Seungkwan, go!" The boys roars in support, but some of Seungkwan's cabin mates are much louder. Their voices' capacity strengthens when the bikers stopped in their tracks, the corners of their mouths enclosed for added tempo, and this prompts him to only climb higher. Seungkwan finds his winning stone as his last step before he strongly leverages himself upwards to reach the bell when Nick unashamedly steps on his foot, and instead of yelping in pain Seungkwan strengthens his grip on his rocks, swiftly alternating his pained foot for a smaller rock with reluctance. The risk is well-worth it, because as he propels himself in the air he successfully taps the red bell. Seungkwan's still in disbelief amidst the frenzied alarm of his win, up until he lowers himself to the ground. His preoccupation belittles his hindsight of a charging Nick when Mister Lee intercedes between them, chalk particles hazing the air that surrounds his perpetrator. He flicks out a red card in front of him, and he silently scribbles in his little notebook before his eyes train at him with contempt.
"I just confirmed your intention." Mister Lee's voice is monotonous but secures fear to those who go against him. Nick releases his balled fist immediately. "A two-year camper assuming dominance over a newbie? This camp has a reputation of training the finest boys in the country; might as well pack your bags and say goodbye to a good college while you're at it." He walks away and calls for Hansol, who then clips off his helmet immediately. "I won't tolerate this kind of behavior in camp, so keep an eye out for Sanders."
If only he knew what Cabins Nine and Ten have for years, Hansol thought, but those cabin members still get along well. Nick, however, seethes with anger whenever Seungkwan breathes the same air as he does, and unfortunately for him, he has to. For two months, sixty days to be exact. In a rare display of irritation, Hansol's eyes scan Nick from top to toe, and he pretends that his complaints are unheard of to congratulate Seungkwan on the bench.
Seungkwan is proud and beaming, telling his seatmates that while this was not his first time in wall climbing, he made a lot of improvement from his previous experience.
Mister Lee may have given Hansol another responsibility, but he thinks it is his most important to date. He pushes his foot with force on his paddle with a little reluctance, but Mister Hong's eyebrows are underway on their skeptic slanting. The bike path is in parallel of the rocky route that Scout Captain Choi leads, so in Hansol's estimation, they would arrive at the peak much faster than the other campers. Mister Hong trails behind him, and the soft ding of his bike rings as his fingers graze over it for handling.
"It's always a novel sight to see," his voice is smooth and light like an airy feather blown off in the breeze that fights off summer's humidity. Hansol thinks of hyperactive children giggling relentlessly in the playground with chimes in their voices. "The sunset never gets old."
Hansol tries to appreciate what his superior does, but the descending rays of the sun looks like the organic sunny side up eggs that his mom makes for him in mornings. It is only day two in camp, but he secretly misses his mom with great conviction. Chef Seokmin does wonders in the kitchen, but home-cooked meals still reign in Hansol's palate. Nevertheless he veers away from the thought of home, and he basks himself in the present. Most of his biking mates have made themselves comfortable for the meantime, and as the sun is about to set the trekking team arrives, and they rush at the best spot available for the scenic show of nature. Some of them, mostly from Cabin Nine, open their Chip Ahoy packs and bags of pretzels. Scout Captain Choi clicks his tongue at their priorities, but he gets a chewy cookie from one of them eventually.
When Chan rummages for his packet of jelly beans and his expensive chocolate frogs in his backpack, his frantic search leads to nothing- he sees the laces of his shoes tied and facing him from the gash of his backpack. In his internal panic he fails to notice that Mingyu is in shambles of laughter, and Chan has to bottle up his pent up anger in the face of two supervisors as Mingyu hands him the legs of his bitten chocolate frog.
"Saved this for you from the waist up." He taunts, and Chan grips on the back of his shirt so much that Mingyu fears his favorite red dri-fit shirt would rip. He continues to provoke him anyway. "Don't want to get it paralyzed." Mingyu then flashes a warped card with unconventional edges, which Chan recognizes as the wallet ninja that Mingyu has a habit of flipping between his fingers. He recalls that he once unlocked Cabin Five's door with it for the very clever Hansol left their keys inside their cabin. Waking the supervisors seemed like a nuisance more than an obligation, and Cabin Ten watched the whole thing from their porch as Mingyu tinkered his best with his trusty device on the doorknob.
"I gave you a free face mask! You should be acknowledging it!" Chan hisses, and to his great annoyance Mingyu starts unboxing his jelly beans, pops his favorite flavor of all time (tutti-frutti) in his mouth, and passes the box to Cabin Ten. The nerve of this guy!
Chan: 1
Mingyu: 1
Chan's brain immediately starts cooking a plan of Mingyu's unsolvable disappearance that night.
The days become hotter in the following week, so everyone is sluggish and unwilling to move. Sweat sticks on their shirts faster and more often, so the laundry lines become crowded on some days. Hansol wishes he shares the same enthusiasm as Mingyu does when he shoots his dirty clothes in the washing machine, but the closest fun there is in laundry is balling up his shirt like a basketball and aiming a three pointer from his bed to their cabin's hamper. Mingyu's well-off enough to decline any compensation in exchange for laundry services, so Hansol trudges himself to the stuffy room that smells of detergent and iron on a Wednesday night. He feels like a marionette who is in need of someone controlling his strings, due to the fact that he enjoyed his rounds of shooting the bulls eye at Mister Wen's range, so only his eye muscles have the energy to flex when Seungkwan pats an empty seat beside him. His legs do his work for him, but one of them gives up and knees the bench accidentally. Nevermind Hansol's dull nails sinking into Seungkwan's arms for sudden support, because the latter has worried written all over his face.
When Seungkwan has freed them of any causes of future accidents, he asks. "If you're so tired, why would you do the laundry?"
A wave of relief hits Hansol, but he shows no signs of victory. He was lounging on the porch with a word puzzle on his lap and he happened to distract himself from the plethora of letters meshed with hidden words when a sleeveless Seungkwan exits from his own cabin carrying a bag just like how Christmas reruns show Santa Claus and his gifts for the good kids. It was his first failed attempt of falling flat on his face and feeling every one of his muscles against him, but with his own pile in hand and a bug spray in another, his hopes of counteracting his clumsiness has gone down the drain. So did his confidence.
There still are marks on Seungkwan's skin, crescents that look misplaced and like outcasts on where they should not be. He lends a helping hand in emptying Hansol's pile, much to the injured's embarrassment, and pours in the detergent and fabric conditioner for him, too. Hansol stays glued on his feet as he silently marvels at Seungkwan's agility, wondrous eyes in awe when the blue, fragrant liquid swathes his olfactory senses. Its familiarity procures an identity as it blooms from the soft cotton of Seungkwan's clothing to Hansol's own. His eyes abhor compliance to his mind, though at that moment, they sync due to one particular subject, a nightingale with a fire that blazes behind him, a-
"You seem to be adrift." Seungkwan snaps as his hand furiously waves back and forth centimeters from Hansol's eyes. "Are you okay?" Hansol puts on his best composure and shrugs. This seems to do the trick, and they both slump on the vacant monoblocks that Seungkwan saved for them with his own bag.
"Yeah, just too stretched after spending the whole afternoon at the range. I also ran out of clean PJs, and Mingyu didn't want to lend me his so here I am."
Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, and Hansol senses in himself that a mild feeling of nervousness is underway. It never evolves when the pinched skin in between Seungkwan's brows disappears, and is replaced by the merry sound of his voice. "What has Mingyu ever done to you?"
"You should ask Chan that question. But really, it's just tradition."
Seungkwan quips an edgy mouth to one side, and he shakes his head a little. "Mingyu got hurt pretty badly, but you let it slide?"
This is Hansol's first real conversation with Seungkwan, the boy he barely knew but brims his thoughts with expectancy and anticipation, yet he wants to talk about the Montagues and the Capulets' eternal summer dispute with him? Fine, but under the condition that he siphons information on Seungkwan's preference for the distinct pastel colors as opposed to most boys' dull clothing. "I'd get into more trouble with them if I interfere. Don't worry about Mingyu, he's tough as a nail. Saw him jogging last Wednesday before I blew the horn, so I think his chest is still intact with those obnoxiously long legs of his."
Seungkwan nods with relief, because Hansol knows that those two are the earliest risers in camp. Mingyu's a morning person, but Hansol perceives him as the guy who soaks up way too much energy from the sun, and by the time the stars dot out the sky, an imaginary white flag sticks out of his head, and he retreats faster than anyone to his cabin unless he is tasked with putting out the fire. Seungkwan and Mingyu are people whose familiarization with their faces and routines have subdued into normalcy, and Hansol cannot seem to fit himself in between their puzzle. "I have agree with you on that one. I don't think anyone with a broken hip can pass that godawful biking and walking trek. Nearly passed out myself when I hit the hay that night." Seungkwan chuckles in his remorse, and Hansol laughs at him, too.
"What's so funny?" Seungkwan lightly punches him on the arm, but Hansol does not know where to get his answer. Adding fuel to the fire, his chortles grow louder, his upper body rejects the gravity that it has been imposed with, and he was about to crash on the cold, menacing tiles when Seungkwan grabs him by the arm (again) so his face lands on something soft, warm, and fragrant, while his forehead makes a forced touchdown on a pointed, bony structure. It has more warmth than Seungkwan's shirt, and if were not for the pang of pain that resulted from the unprecedented collision of his skull on Seungkwan's collarbone, he would stay still. Except he does not, much to his dismay and to lessen Seungkwan's skepticism.
"Maybe you should skip Mister Wen's classes for a week," Seungkwan manifests his thinking, and he hums with a little pout as he crosses off camp activities in his brain. "Obviously Mister Hong's canoeing and biking is a no-no too, Mister Lee's schedule is wall climbing for the rest of the week, and Mister Kwon would probably jab the hell out of you in martial arts. He thinks it's fun but most of us wanted to crawl back to bed after class." Seungkwan's shoulders mildly collapse, but he perks up, and his tone makes him think like he has uncovered the solution of global poverty. "You can sign up for Mister Xu's class! I'm not into yoga myself since I thought it was my sisters' thing only, but after a class I might have liked it a bit." He confesses, and he proceeds to tell Hansol how his sister eagerly packed him a new set of Climacool apparel and his own mat. "They haven't splurged on me like this since kindergarten, but it's a good thing they got me my own mat, because you don't want to borrow one in the studio, even if it is cleaned after every session."
Hansol shudders at the thought of sweaty mats, and this may be the first time that he gives an ounce of care into good hygiene, which Seungkwan seems to have a habit of maintaining. It is actually a good thing, especially when Hansol is cornered by boys and men who often sleep in pajamas that smell burnt, or reuse their bedtime clothes inside out, for four nights straight. Hansol falls into the latter type, and it only occurs to him right now that he could have cultivated the bacteria that inhibited in his clothes. It piques his curiosity of how it might turn out, but Seungkwan does not seem to be the type to take interest in garage house experiments. If anything, he might have ran away from him and leave him to pile his dehydrated clothing into the dryer, so Hansol shuts off the thought.
"It's only fitting that Mister Xu has yoga in the morning and wellness in the afternoon, so I'll be meeting him the whole day tomorrow." Seungkwan mentions, and this piques Hansol's interest.
"Wellness? Oh uh, lately, I've been having trouble in falling asleep, so I might as well shell out my Thursday for him, too." Hansol sputters, and Seungkwan narrows his eyes at him slyly, but the tension he gives Hansol wears off quick. Seungkwan hauls his clothes from the washing machine and stuffs them into the dryer, pressing the down button before it reached to five and clicked on the start function. Hansol has approximately a duration of a song with an extra minute to spend more time with him, so his hopes of making this memorable are slim, but his nervousness has subdued from the moment of his first accident, mostly because Seungkwan has a way of drowning the awkwardness with people he converses with.
"Wine? That's the secret recipe of the roasted chicken?" Hansol puffs himself out, whistling and clutching the back of his head in surprise.
"Mhm, and that's probably why its costs heaps of bucks a head to go here, unless Chef Seokmin gets his supply of wine from Costco by the bulk. He told me he churns the butter that he glazes on his beloved chickens-dead of course- and has a huge pile of shredded lemon that he sprinkles on them."
Hansol rearranges his mental list, prioritizing 'write to mom' on top, 'waking up at six-thirty' at second, and 'store fresh clothes' at third. "Maybe it's from Mingyu's Nor Cal estate. I heard they got a huge mass of land there, probably because they own a winery."
"'Heard?' 'Probably?'" Seungkwan gapes at him, but he snickers at Hansol's uncertainty.
"They're just rumors circulating around," Hansol is starting to hate the fact that the two of them have probably mentioned Mingyu's name for more than fifty times during their time here at the laundry room, so he interjects without hesitation as a form of forced retreat. "I think it's a little too late for you to sign up for camp here, but yeah, three hundred bucks isn't just something that you pick on the road."
"You're right about one thing, and wrong about the other. Yeah, this particular camp is expensive, but the other ones that I spent my past summers at are lackluster compared to this. It's obvious with the wine-injected roasts, great facilities and all. It's probably too early to say this but you and the rest of the guys are great to me, and I've made more friends here than the ones from my previous camps combined."
Hansol chooses to forego mentioning Nick Sanders, and he beams at Seungkwan. "Glad to have you aboard, too. A number of my great friends have never returned after packing their bags here for the last time, but new ones go in. It's a cycle, but sometimes I wish it'd stop."
"Liked someone from the previous roster?"
Hansol hums inquisitively. "I wouldn't say 'like,' more like, admire? He isn't from my cabin, but Chan's. He's as annoying as he is but more tolerable, and he's on his way to become a counselor at Princeton," Hansol fiddles with his thumbs, and stares on his feet as his voice dips in secrecy. "It makes my head pound how'd Won managed on his own from Cupertino to New Jersey. I'm sure he'd survive on take-out, but chicken nuggets are probably the only affordable things at McDonald's so... am I speaking too much?"
"You really had the nerve to say that to someone from the debate club?" In Seungkwan's consolation, Hansol lightly laughs. "Wow, from West to East. Plane tickets drain the life out of your bank account on school holidays, too."
"Even at the prime of mass aerial transportation, our stupid economy gets in the way." Hansol grumbles.
"How about somewhere local, you know? You're on our supervisors' good side, and they could be your best bets as references." Seungkwan suggests.
If Hansol were a light bulb, he could have probably blinded Seungkwan. His clothes stops spinning, and it is very timely of it to whirl out a beeping sound at its cessation. "I don't have to go too far, right? Seungkwan, you're a genius."
Seungkwan pats him while snickering. "Yeah, tell that to my mom."
Without meaning to, Hansol draws out a line between most of the people that he has met. Call it a dumb defense mechanism, but at an early age he has learned the vitality of fortifying his walls against onlookers with evil intentions. After a mortifying first meeting at Boys' Scouts when he was seven, resulting to him crying on his dad that had just been mocked by his supposed "teammates" due to his Asian heritage, Hansol keeps himself in the comfort of his room, his dad's library, or his nearby cousin's own little music room. By age nine he has learned to play the violin and the drums, and by age ten he has added his own collection of books in one of the dad's bookshelves. The following year, his parents enticed him with all the things he could ask for to go to summer camp, but by then he had already built himself a high wall of fortitude to counter such persuasion. His mom got him a harmonica just to coax him into a drive out in the tamed wilderness that is the summer camp, and much to his surprise, the Scout Master is Korean himself, and conversed with his dad in the mix of languages that he finds comfort in. When he gave him a tour of the assortment of amenities that the camp provides, his dad had an arm around him all throughout. He only released it when his son enthusiastically encouraged him to sign his mandatory documents. He remembers Scout Master Choi giving him a shirt, sunny in color but quite humiliating to wear in public, as a souvenir and as a fellow Korean-American himself, and it became Hansol's favorite bedtime shirt as an adolescent. In just two years he grew out of it due to a major growth spurt, but for keeps, it is perfectly folded and tucked beneath his piled clothing in his closet.
Under the torrid rays of the sun, Scout Captain Choi chooses to take his break as the heat nastily penetrates his skin, and he wonders with great confusion as to why his superior is peacefully numb and deep in his slumber back in their cabin. He attempts to scoop his affogato without much success, so he resorts to drinking his less cold dessert as his eyes trained on the arrow from Hansol's bow. He never disappoints, for the least result that contributes to his score is seven, and most even lack on scoring that high.
"My brother told me that you almost shot someone when you were twelve so you ran back to your cabin, but I'm glad that that didn't stop you. Look at you now!" Scout Captain Choi's voice reverberates with pride, but Hansol replies with meek acknowledgement. Mister Wen taps him on the back, miffed while holding a cup of his consumed dessert.
"You shouldn't be eating here." He says sternly, and the scout captain replies with mock tongue clicking. He snatches the empty cup, and tells them that ice cream will be served for dessert this lunch. Mister Wen lightly chortles as he loads up Hansol's quiver with the bows he collected, and he shakes his head at his colleague's blatant immaturity.
"Sir, I have dealt with two kinds of Chois already, but there isn't that much of a difference." Hansol quips, and Mister Wen's toned down laughter becomes full blown.
Lunch is spaghetti with garlic bread on the side. Seungkwan foregoes the red sauce for his own carbonara plate, and when he walks to his seat, Nick sneers at the sight of him and becomes vocal of his criticism.
"So while we're all stuck at eating spaghetti, you get to have your own kind? Some kid you are." He jests, snatching up his plate and almost snapping his wrist as he slides on his bench. Some of the boys fall into complete silence, eyes trained at the commotion.
"Tell me, Nick. What seems to be your problem with me?" Seungkwan's arms are as rigid as his stare. Hansol hastily shoots from his seat, his courage faster than the arrows he have released from his bow, and stands between the two disputing boys to adjourn them before their supervisors personally interfere, though Scout Master Yoon already took notice of them.
"You squaring up for your little boyfriend?" Nick's voice is belittling, but Hansol's eyes pierce him with contempt, unfazed at the immature buffoon in front of him. "You think you're so mighty with stupid armband of yours? It's stupid, just like chink behind you."
All of a sudden Hansol's blood boils, but after numerous classes with Mister Xu, Seungkwan was right; yoga is a life changer. He keeps his austerity, but he presses precautionary finger on Nick's chest. "Three strikes and you're out. I'm warning you."
Now the rest have become quiet, and some of the camp counselors, Mister Lee included, are on their way to do Hansol's intended purpose. Seungkwan, however, peers over Hansol's shoulder, and says his words loud and clear, "Mind you, I'm Korean, not Chinese."
Chan is the first to laugh, and it echoes throughout the cafeteria, without a doubt. "Serves you right, Sanders!" He hollers in support, and soon everyone has their eyes on Nick at the implication of Seungkwan's remark. They reflect distaste and judgment, which fuels his temper, causing him to aim a relatively poor punch at Hansol. He quickly deflects and even holds him off, but Nick counterattacks with force that Hansol fails to jab equally so he crashes with Seungkwan when he moves rearward.
Mister Kwon sprints to hold Nick off, and Mister Lee casts him a gaze so calm yet terrifying that Hansol clutches on Seungkwan's knee for reasons unknown, but it is a reaction for placidity.
"Solitary confinement," Mister Lee icily declares against Nick Sanders after earning a nod from Scout Master Yoon. "One more slip, and I'll see to it that I'll personally kick you out."
Chef Seokmin chooses this time to announce from his kitchen. He is obviously oblivious to the turbulence happening some of his food's consumers, judging by his voice. "Step right up, boys! Chocolate ice cream will be served momentarily, but you could always switch it up for a scoop of vanilla!" Everyone buzzes into their own realms of talking between cabins, inducing the normal environment in the cafeteria. Mister Kwon releases Nick from his grasp, but as the boys consume their dessert, the horizontal line of the camp counselors eye Nick, without meaning to.
Humidity has been extra nasty for the past weeks, hence the land is gifted with rain. Campfires are postponed on some nights, leaving the campers to stay indoors. Some are driven crazy for the lack of exposure outside at night, but those who brave the inclement skies that seek dominance with their clouds make a run for other cabins in hopes of having company. As they say, the more, the merrier.
"I think... I'm getting the hang of it!" Hansol's cabin mate asserts, but the result fails his assumption. He furiously compensates for his lack of success, and throws a gonggi stone high up in the air just in time to get another one on the ground, but the former one that lands from midair lamely bumps on the curve between his thumb and index finger. Before he knows it, Seungkwan's cabin mate isolates all of the stones, shouting, "My turn!" He ends up finishing until level four because he spends the most time with it every night, but even he has a hard time beating Seungkwan.
"You must've had a pretty good childhood, Seung. This game is rad!" Another one of Hansol's cabin mates remarks. "Mind if we borrow your set every night? We can trade our Cards Against Humanity. It's boring as heck."
Seungkwan looks at his cabin mates for answers, but they all declined with fervor. "Well, they're the judge. I only provide." He turns his attention to Hansol, eyes fixated and his controlled on his breathing, as he creeps a stick beneath a similar one. He roars in success, but his contenders grumble at his winning streak. Seungkwan shuts him up halfheartedly.
"If one of our supervisors knocks on our door, I'm blaming you!"
Hansol snorts. "For all I know, they're either playing poker or mahjong which unfortunately, Mister Xu is both good at. Even Chef Seok joins and he's said to be good, but he doesn't stand a chance against our yoga teacher. No serious bets of course, Wonwoo and Chan found out they were betting on laundry tasks and Starbucks coupons." He fishes for a tortilla chip and licks on his fingers before trying his luck again on the game. He eventually wins after acquiring the most sticks, and he leaves his cabin mate's bed for his own to continue munching on his bag of chips. Seungkwan plops down beside him after opening his pack of Bazooka, chewing on three simultaneously, but is still unable to blow a bubble.
"You'd get the hang of it, eventually." Hansol reassures as Seungkwan huffs relentlessly. He wishes he has a camera on hand to immortalize the puffy-cheeked Seungkwan, or a great artistic sense to sketch him on their break time. For now he resorts to his memory, and he yearns that amidst going against remembering everything he does, just for that specific moment.
"Better stick to chewing it than having it all over my face." Seungkwan chuckles. "Really, one of my sister did so well, but it got stuck on my other sister's hair, and they had an ugly fight after getting forced haircuts. I've never loved my scalp since. Girl siblings are great, but dealing with their girl things get on my nerves sometimes."
"Can't say the same for myself, or for any sibling case at that matter." Hansol sighs, and he slides more on his bed, eating his chips in his laziest yet.
"I heard being the only child is rather... sad."
"I guess I'm one of those lucky kids who got awesome parents, even though my mom still likes sending me off with a kiss, but my dad's really rad. He paints, he surfs, and he doesn't smoke. My mom's very lucky with him."
Seungkwan's eyes brim with excitement. "Your dad surfs?" He questions with peak interest. Hansol knows extremely well that it is an extraordinary feat for a forty year old, though he does not have much interest on people before to talk about it, until now.
"Yeah, and I learned how to swim when he's out in the sea. I almost drowned when I followed him." He chuckles at his near demise in his childhood, and Seungkwan follows suit. By now he sits with his legs folded on his lap, as he casually sips on water after giving up on his bubblegum blowing quest. Maybe Seungkwan should stick to singing. "I was six that time, barely with memories other than watching Barney on Saturday mornings, but all the eps flashed before my eyes in milliseconds, and when I regained consciousness my dad was giving me CPR."
"That's... a very detailed account of your near death experience." Seungkwan states, and Hansol worries that his overexposure of his past might have turned him off. "Do you still swim?"
His pent up concern is immediately coaxed by relief, but he laments over Seungkwan's obliviousness of his skill. Perhaps he should ditch Mister Xu's class, sign up for swimming, and catch Seungkwan's attention for being absent in yoga and wellness, but he is starting to enjoy catlike stretching sessions. "Yeah, still do. Maybe we shoild sign up for swimming together, how about that?"
"I'm more of a... terrestrial kind of person." Seungkwan stammers, finding difficulty in searching the appropriate word to descrive himself, and it results into a comical adjective.
Hansol rraises an eyebrow. "Terrestrial, hm? So you're saying I'm an amphibian?"
"You do feel cold sometimes." Seungkwan replies, his expression relaxed. Hansol takes this as a sign of absolutism.
"I am?" But he sweats like crazy! And Seungkwan's just damn warm, so while he is perpetually his own little fireplace, Hansol has mild problems with his body temperature? "How do you know?"
There's a flash outside, followed by the loud crack of the thunder that blackens the whole camp. Hansol finds his answer when he feels a palm smacking on his arm, and the fingers eventually clam up on his skin. It realizes its occupancy, and it goes back to whichever it came from.
"Surprisingly, you're a little warm enough." Seungkwan tries to fend off his nervousness, it regenerates again when it booms outside. The bed thumps at his disposal, but Hansol takes it as a cue to get more gummy worms, and probably a flashlight.