Chapter Text
Hwang Hyunjin had known many injustices in his nineteen years of life. Like when his personal chef took a vacation without warning, leaving him at the mercy of the common housekeeper's cooking. Or when his favorite Mercedes had to go to the workshop for three full days, forcing him to use the Porsche as a backup. He even remembered with horror that day when his credit card was declined at Gucci because he had reached the monthly limit of two hundred thousand dollars.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to this.
Sitting in the back of a pickup truck that had known better decades ago, Hyunjin clung to the cracked leather seat as if his life depended on it. Every bump in the dirt road seemed specifically designed to torture him, sending shockwaves through his delicate nervous system. His perfect brown curls, which normally looked as if they had been touched by L'Oréal angels, now stuck to his sweaty forehead.
"To relax." his mother had said with that smile that promised problems. "Dr. Kim says you need a calmer environment for your heart, honey."
Relax? RELAX? Hyunjin would have preferred a thousand times more therapy sessions with the most boring psychologist in Seoul than this... this forced exile to the countryside.
The driver, a middle-aged man in a worn-out cap, looked at him in the rearview mirror from time to time with a mixture of amusement and pity. He had probably never transported someone wearing a T-shirt that cost more than his monthly salary.
"We're here, boy." the man announced with an accent that Hyunjin could barely decipher.
Hyunjin looked out the dusty window and felt as if he was contemplating the end of civilization as he knew it. Green fields stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a wooden house that seemed to have been built when his great-grandparents were young. There wasn't a single glass building in sight. Not a single Starbucks. Not even a decent cell phone antenna.
It was the apocalypse, but with more vegetation.
The van came to a stop with a mechanical whine that likely meant it had lived longer than medically recommended for a vehicle. Hyunjin took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what he was sure would be the worst experience of his life, and opened the door.
The smell hit him like a slap scented with manure.
Wet earth, animals, growing plants, and something his aristocratic nose flatly refused to identify invaded his nostrils with the subtlety of a hurricane. Hyunjin staggered, bringing a perfectly manicured hand to his mouth, fighting the nausea that threatened to make him lose the remains of his caviar breakfast.
"Oh my God..." he muttered under his breath, trying to breathe through his mouth. "What's that smell?"
That's when he heard the laughter.
It wasn't a kind or sympathetic laugh. It was the kind of laugh you save for when someone slips on a banana peel or when a cat does something particularly stupid on the internet. A laugh that clearly said, "Look at this idiot."
Hyunjin looked up, blinking to focus through the tears the smell had brought to his eyes, and came face-to-face with arguably the most intimidating person he'd ever seen.
The boy, for he was clearly young, perhaps his age, looked at him with a smile that bordered on the diabolical. He was larger than Hyunjin, with broad shoulders that spoke of years of real physical work, not personal training sessions in fancy gyms. His black hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had been working in the sun, and his eyes... God, his eyes were like sharp knives that seemed to be gauging exactly how long it would take to make him cry.
"Wow, wow," the boy said in a voice that had the same effect as whiskey: smooth but with a touch that burned. "What do we have here? A lost little princess?"
Hyunjin felt as if cold water had been poured on him. Little princess? Did this... did this peasant dare to call him a little princess?
"Excuse me..." he managed to articulate, trying to sound as dignified as possible while struggling with gagging. "I don't know who you think you are, but—"
"Minho." the boy introduced himself, clearly having fun with the situation. "And you, obviously, are the famous guest from the city that we're supposed to 'civilize'." He made quotation marks in the air with a gesture that dripped with sarcasm. "Let me guess: you've never seen a cow in person, have you?"
"Of course I've seen cows!" protested Hyunjin, though the truth was that his only experience with cattle had been in National Geographic documentaries on his 75-inch TV.
Minho folded his arms, and Hyunjin couldn't help but notice how defined his muscles looked under the work shirt. Not that he was looking. Not at all.
"Sure, sure." Minho said mockingly. "I bet you know how to milk one too, and you've cleaned a stable."
"I don't clean anything!" The answer came out before Hyunjin could stop it, and he immediately realized he had made a serious tactical mistake.
Minho's smile widened like that of a cat that had just cornered the most pathetic mouse in the world.
"Of course not." he murmured. "Let me guess more: you have people who clean for you, who cook for you, who probably put toothpaste on your toothbrush every morning."
Hyunjin felt as if he was being dissected under a microscope. And the worst thing was that everything this... this barbarian was saying was technically correct.
"That's not—" he began to protest, but was interrupted by a completely different voice.
"Minho!"
They both turned to see a blond boy with freckles scattered across his cheeks like golden constellations. He was smaller than Minho, but there was something about his presence that immediately made Hyunjin feel less like he was being attacked by a predator.
"Stop bothering the poor boy." said the blond with an accent that sounded slightly different, softer. "Can't you see he's dizzy?"
He approached Hyunjin with an expression of genuine concern. "Are you okay? The journey from the city can be quite tiresome, and the change of scenery..." He looked at Minho reproachfully. "And some idiots don't help."
"Hey!" Minho protested, but there was something playful about his tone now. "I was just... welcoming him."
"Your idea of welcoming includes traumatizing people." the blond retorted, and then turned to Hyunjin with a warm smile. "I'm Felix, and this insensitive brute is Minho. Ignoring about eighty percent of what he says is a proven survival strategy."
Hyunjin found himself smiling for the first time since he had stepped out of the van. "Hyunjin." he introduced himself, and then added almost as an apology: "And yes, I'm a little dizzy."
"It's completely normal." Felix assured him, beginning to guide him towards the house. "The first time I came here from the city, I almost vomited too. The air is so much more... intense here."
"Are you from the city too?" asked Hyunjin hopefully. Perhaps he had found a soulmate in this wasteland of civilization.
"Melbourne, actually." Felix replied with a smile. "I came here two years ago as part of an exchange program and... well, I never left."
Before Hyunjin could fully process this information, a new voice joined the conversation.
"Felix, you shouldn't carry so much weight by yourself."
Hyunjin looked up and had to make a conscious effort not to open his mouth like a fish. If he had thought Minho was big, this new guy completely redefined the concept. It was as if they had taken a professional wrestler and dressed him in farm clothes. Muscles that had clearly been developed by years of real work, not by protein powder and Instagram poses.
"Changbin." Felix murmured with a smile that somehow managed to become even brighter. "I'm not carrying anything heavy."
"Your backpack weighs more than you." Changbin replied in an affectionate tone, reaching over to take Felix's backpack with an ease that suggested it was like lifting a feather to him.
Hyunjin watched this exchange with fascination. There was something about the way Changbin looked at Felix, how his movements became infinitely more careful when he was around the blond boy. And Felix... Felix blushed in a way that even someone as socially incompetent as Hyunjin could interpret.
"Oh." Hyunjin muttered, and then, because his social filter had never been particularly strong, "Are you...?"
"Together?" Minho finished with a smile that suggested he'd been waiting for exactly this question. "Felix and Changbin have been in their own romantic bubble for months. It's nauseating."
"It's not nauseating!" protested Felix, but his cheeks had turned a pink that rivaled sunsets.
"It's adorable." Changbin corrected with a smile that completely transformed his intimidating face. "Minho is jealous because no one wants to deal with his charming personality."
"My personality is perfect, thank you very much." Minho replied with feigned dignity. "It's selective."
Hyunjin found himself witnessing this exchange as if he were watching a live sitcom. There was something almost surreal about the ease with which these boys teased each other, about the obvious comfort they shared. It was... unlike anything he had ever experienced.
In his world, conversations were transactional. People were kind because they wanted something, or because their parents had money, or because they needed to maintain certain social appearances. This... this seemed genuine.
It also looked completely terrifying.
"Well," Felix said, clearly trying to rescue Hyunjin from his daze. "Why don't we take you inside? You can settle in, meet the others, and maybe get something for your stomach."
"The others?" asked Hyunjin in a weak voice.
"Oh, there are eight of us in total." Changbin explained casually, as if this was completely normal information. "Well, seven plus you now. Chan and his boyfriend Seungmin are probably in the stables, and Jeongin should be wrapping up online classes."
Hyunjin processed this information slowly. Eight people. Living together. On a farm. Like some kind of... gay agricultural commune.
His mother definitely hadn't mentioned this part in the brochure.
"Online classes?" he managed to ask.
"University," Felix explained. "Jeongin is the baby of the group, but he's probably the smartest of all of us. He studies veterinary medicine."
"And Chan basically runs this place." Minho added. "He's like our unofficial big brother, except he's in his twenties and acts like he's responsible for all of us."
"Because he is." Changbin said with a smile. "Remember the time Felix got lost in the woods chasing butterflies?"
"It was for a photography project!" protested Felix.
"Sure." Minho and Changbin said in unison, clearly having had this conversation before.
Hyunjin followed them into the house, feeling as if he had entered an alternate dimension. Everything was so... normal. So comfortable. So different from the carefully choreographed interactions of his usual social life.
The house inside was exactly what he expected: rustic, obviously lived in, with furniture that had seen better decades but somehow radiated warmth. The walls were covered with photographs that had clearly been taken by someone with real talent, showing candid moments of the farm's residents. Hyunjin recognized Minho laughing as he fed what appeared to be a particularly dramatic chicken, Felix covered in flour in what was obviously the kitchen, Changbin carrying what appeared to be a sack of feed that weighed more than the average person.
"Felix takes all the pictures." Changbin explained, noticing his gaze. "He has an incredible eye."
"It's not a big deal." Felix muttered, but Hyunjin could see the pride in his eyes.
"Did you study photography?" asked Hyunjin, genuinely curious.
"More or less self-taught." Felix replied. "YouTube is an amazing teacher."
Hyunjin blinked. In his world, if someone had a talent for something, they hired the best tutors, enrolled in the most prestigious schools, bought the most expensive equipment. The idea of learning something as complex as professional photography from free videos on the internet was... revolutionary.
"Here's your room." Minho announced, opening a door that revealed a small but clean space. A single bed, a wooden desk, a window that looked out onto what seemed to be endless fields of... something green.
Hyunjin observed the room and felt an existential crisis approaching. There was no television. There was no minibar. There was no private bathroom. There was not... none of what constituted his basic definition of civilization.
"The bathroom is at the end of the hallway." Felix explained, as if he'd read his mind. "We all share it, but we have a pretty civilized schedule."
A shared bathroom. Hyunjin had read about this concept in history books, but he had never imagined that he would have to experience it in person.
"Are you okay?" asked Changbin with genuine concern. "You look a little green."
"I'm perfectly fine." Hyunjin lied, because admitting that the idea of sharing a bathroom with seven strangers terrified him more than the possibility of having to physically work didn't seem strategically smart.
Minho was watching him with that smile that suggested he could read exactly what he was thinking.
"Don't worry, little princess." he said in a tone dripping with false tranquility. "I'm sure you'll fit perfectly into our... rustic lifestyle."
And there was that word again. Little princess. Hyunjin didn't know why, but the way Minho said it made something strange happen in his stomach. Something that was definitely not nausea.
Well, maybe it was a little bit of nausea.
"Perfect." he muttered, placing his one Louis Vuitton suitcase on the single bed that had probably cost less than his shoes.
"Dinner is in an hour." Felix kindly informed him. "We'll give you time to settle in, and then you can meet everyone."
The three boys walked out, leaving Hyunjin alone with his thoughts and the growing realization that his mother had possibly orchestrated the most sadistic situation in the history of mother-son relationships.
He sat on the bed, which creaked ominously under his weight, and looked out the window at the endless fields that stretched to the horizon.
Six months. He had to survive six months in this place.
With that boy Minho who seemed to have made it his personal mission to turn his life into personalized hell.
On a farm where apparently everyone was gay and happy and knew each other intimately.
No domestic service. No personal chef. No private car. Without anything that made life worth living.
Hyunjin slumped back on the bed and looked at the wooden ceiling.
"God..." he murmured. "What have I done to deserve this?"
From somewhere in the house, he could hear Minho's laughter, as if the universe itself was making fun of him.
This was going to be a long, long six months.
But as he lay there, feeling as if he had been exiled to the end of the world, a treacherous part of his mind couldn't help but think about the way Minho's eyes had crinkled when he smiled, or how his laugh had sounded genuinely amused instead of mischievous.
Not that it mattered, of course.
Not at all.
It was definitely going to be a long, long six months.
─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───
Hyunjin had managed to remain relatively stable for about thirty minutes. He'd meticulously unpacked his designer clothes in the wooden closet that smelled of old cedar and dampness, organized his imported personal care products on the small dresser, and even managed to connect his phone to the farm's Wi-Fi (which, to his utter horror, had a speed that likely dated back to the prehistoric age of the internet).
But then the nausea returned with a vengeance.
It started as an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, the kind of discomfort that he normally solved with an Italian antacid that cost two hundred euros a box. But this time it was different. This time, the sensation grew and spread like a toxic wave that threatened to overflow everywhere.
The smell of the farm, which he had managed to temporarily ignore while concentrating on organizing, returned with all its aromatic force. It was as if someone had created a perfume called "Essence of All That Smells Bad in the Field" and decided to spray it directly into his nostrils.
Hyunjin put a hand to his mouth, feeling saliva accumulate in that ominous way that always preceded disaster. His eyes filled with tears and his stomach contracted with a violence that took him completely by surprise.
"Oh no," he muttered under his breath, "oh no, oh no, oh no."
He got out of bed with an urgency that would have impressed any Olympic sprinter and headed for the door. The hallway seemed to have inexplicably stretched out, as if he was in one of those dreams where you run but never get anywhere. Each step was a struggle against his own digestive system, which had seemingly decided to rebel against years of refined, processed food.
The bathroom. He had to get to the bathroom.
He finally came to the door at the end of the hall, which had a hand-carved wooden plaque that read "Bathroom" with typography that had probably been made by someone with more enthusiasm than artistic skill. Hyunjin didn't stop to appreciate the rustic décor; he pushed open the door and went in like a desperate hurricane.
The bathroom was exactly what he had expected from the rest of the house: functional, clean in a practical sense, but definitely not what he would consider "hygienic by the standards of a five-star spa." There was a claw-footed bathtub that had probably seen several generations of the Lee family, a sink with a faucet dripping with a hypnotic rhythm, and there, like a desert oasis for his despair, was the toilet.
Hyunjin walked towards it with all the grace of a caffeinated zombie, falling to his knees in front of the white porcelain without even thinking about the implications of touching the bathroom floor with his thousand-euro designer pants.
That's when he heard the sound.
A small "splash" that had definitely not come from him.
Hyunjin looked up, blinking to focus through the tears of nausea, and found himself staring directly at a pair of bare legs that clearly belonged to someone who was sitting on what he had assumed was an empty toilet.
"What the fuck—?" a male voice began to say, but Hyunjin no longer had control over his digestive system.
The entire contents of his stomach, which included the remnants of a breakfast of smoked salmon, caviar, artisanal toast, freshly squeezed orange juice, and various vitamin supplements that cost more than the average person's monthly salary, were projected with the force of a geyser onto the toilet occupant's legs.
The shriek that followed was so sharp and prolonged that it could probably be heard from the next county.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! GROSS! GROSS! SOMEONE HELP ME!"
Hyunjin, between gags, managed to focus enough to see that he had vomited on a light-brown-haired boy who was looking at him with an expression of absolute horror that rivaled the best horror movies. The boy was slim, with round cheeks that normally probably gave him an adorable look, but at this point were contorted into a grimace of total disgust.
"I'm sorry." Hyunjin managed to articulate between more gags. "I thought... I didn't know that..."
"HE'S THROWING UP ON ME!" shouted the boy, who had clearly gone into complete panic mode. "HE KEEPS VOMITING!"
And sure enough, Hyunjin wasn't done. His stomach seemed to have decided that this was the perfect opportunity to expel not only that day's food, but possibly everything he had eaten in the past week. Another wave of nausea hit him, and more stomach contents joined the mess he had already created.
The boy's screech intensified, and Hyunjin could hear the sound of footsteps running down the stairs, alarmed voices, and what sounded like someone tripping over furniture in their haste to get to the bathroom.
"What's going on?" Felix's voice came from the hall, immediately followed by Changbin's. "Jisung? Are you okay?"
Ah! So the boy's name was Jisung. Hyunjin filed this information away as he continued to empty his stomach onto his new victim's legs.
The bathroom door swung open wide, and suddenly the small space was filled with people. Felix appeared first, followed closely by Changbin, and finally, with an expression that promised the end of days, Minho.
"What the fuck—?" Minho started, and then stopped abruptly when he fully processed the scene in front of him. "Really? REALLY?"
"Help me!" sobbed Jisung, still sitting on the toilet with his legs covered in vomit. "This... this idiot came in and started throwing up on me!"
"I didn't know..." Hyunjin tried to explain weakly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I thought the bathroom was empty..."
"Didn't it occur to you to KNOCK ON THE DOOR?" Minho roared, and Hyunjin had never seen someone go from moderately irritated to completely furious so quickly. "Or maybe, I don't know, LOOK before you start throwing up all over the place?"
"Minho, breathe." Felix interjected, although his voice also had a hint of tension. "Accidents happen."
"ACCIDENTS?" Minho gestured violently towards the disaster. "Look at this! Jisung is covered in vomit! The bathroom looks like a war zone!"
"Technically," Changbin said, clearly trying not to laugh, "it's more like a biological warfare zone."
"That doesn't help!" shouted Minho and Jisung in unison.
Felix carefully approached Jisung, avoiding the puddles of vomit with the skill of someone who had clearly navigated similar situations before.
"Come, Jisung." he said softly. "Let's clean you up. Changbin, can you help Hyunjin? It looks like he's about to faint."
And sure enough, Hyunjin felt as if the world was spinning around him. His vision had become blurry at the edges, and his legs trembled with the strength of someone who had just run a marathon.
"I... I'm so sorry." he murmured, feeling real tears threatening to fall. Not tears of nausea this time, but tears of pure and utter shame. "I didn't want to... I've never..."
"Of course you never had." Minho muttered, but his tone had lost some of its previous edge. "Little princesses like you probably have private bathrooms the size of my room."
Before Hyunjin could answer, though he honestly had no idea what he could say to defend his current situation, Changbin picked him up with surprising gentleness.
"Come on," said the larger boy. "We'll take you back to your room. Felix, can you handle this?"
"Of course." Felix replied, already guiding a still-sobbing Jisung into the shower. "Minho, could you bring the cleaning supplies?"
Hyunjin expected Minho to refuse, or to say something cruel, but to his surprise, the boy simply nodded and walked out of the bathroom with heavy footsteps that promised that this conversation was definitely not over.
Changbin guided Hyunjin back to his room with a patience that seemed completely at odds with his intimidating appearance. Once inside, he helped Hyunjin sit on the bed, and then knelt in front of him, examining him with critical eyes.
"When was the last time you ate something?"
"This morning." Hyunjin muttered. "Salmon, caviar..."
"Heavy stuff." Changbin observed. "Your stomach is probably in shock. The change of environment, the stress of the trip, and then rich food... it's a recipe for disaster."
"I'm sorry." Hyunjin said again, because it seemed to be the only thing he could say.
"Stop apologizing." Changbin said, but not in a cruel way. "Accidents happen. Yes, it was... particularly dramatic, and Jisung is going to be traumatized for at least a week, but he'll survive. We'll all survive."
"Minho hates me." Hyunjin muttered.
"Minho doesn't hate you." Changbin assured him. "Minho is... protective of his family. And Jisung is part of that family. Give him time. Once he sees that you're not just a spoiled rich boy, he'll calm down."
"What if I am just a spoiled rich kid?"
Changbin laughed, a deep and genuine laugh that somehow made Hyunjin feel a little better.
"Then you'll learn to be something else. That's the point of being here, isn't it?"
Before Hyunjin could answer, there was a soft knock on the door. Felix walked in with a reassuring smile and a glass of water.
"Jisung is fine," he announced. "A little dramatic about the whole experience, but that's normal for him. And Minho is cleaning the bathroom, which is his way of processing his emotions."
"Cleaning is his way of processing emotions?"
"Minho likes to have control over his surroundings." Felix explained, sitting on the bed next to Hyunjin. "When he feels overwhelmed or upset, he cleans. It's therapeutic for him."
"Then he must be very upset." Hyunjin muttered.
"A little bit." Felix admitted. "But not with you specifically. He's upset with the situation. There's a difference."
Hyunjin took a sip of water, grateful for something that would soothe the horrible taste in his mouth.
"Are you always so... kind to disasters?"
Felix and Changbin exchanged a look that spoke of years of silent communication.
"We've all been disasters at some point." Felix said softly. "This farm... it's a place for people who need a second start. Or a third. Or a tenth."
"You needed a second start?"
"More like a third." Felix admitted with a sad smile. "But that's a story for another day. For now, I think you should rest. I'll bring you something light to eat later, when your stomach has calmed down."
"And maybe in the future," Changbin added with a smile, "try to knock on the door before entering the bathroom."
Despite everything, Hyunjin found himself laughing. It was a weak laugh, a little hysterical, but it was a laugh.
"I promise." he said. "I'll definitely knock on the door."
And so Hwang Hyunjin's first day at the Lee farm officially began: covered in his own vomit, having traumatized a complete stranger, and being the target of the justified rage of the most intimidating boy he had ever met in his life.
It was definitely going to be a long, long six months.
─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───
Hyunjin woke up to the feeling that someone was whispering his name very softly, as if they were a mother trying to wake up a sick child. For a confused moment, he thought that he was back in his room in Seoul, that the whole farm thing had been a particularly vivid nightmare, and that his housekeeper was trying to wake him up for some important appointment he had forgotten.
But then he opened his eyes and saw the wooden ceiling, felt the rough texture of the sheets that were definitely not Egyptian silk, and reality hit him like a cargo truck full of unpleasant memories.
"Hyunjin?" The voice was definitely Felix's, soft and worried. "Are you awake?"
Hyunjin turned his head and saw Felix sitting on the only chair in the room, with Changbin standing behind him. They both looked at him with expressions of genuine concern, as if he were a critically ill patient rather than just a city boy who had had a spectacular digestive crisis.
"What time is it?" Hyunjin muttered hoarsely.
"Almost nine o'clock." Changbin replied. "You missed dinner, but we thought you probably needed sleep more than food."
"We brought you something." Felix added, and that's when Hyunjin noticed the steaming bowl in his hands. "Homemade chicken soup. Nothing complicated, nothing that might offend your stomach."
Hyunjin slowly sat up, feeling as if he had been asleep for days instead of just a few hours. His mouth had that terrible taste that comes after vomiting, and his stomach felt like an abandoned battlefield.
"You didn't have to bother." he murmured, though the gesture really touched him in a way he hadn't expected.
"Of course we have to bother." Felix replied with a smile. "That's what we do here. We take care of each other."
"Even when we vomit on our housemates." Changbin added with an amused smile.
Hyunjin blushed to the roots of his hair.
"God, Jisung must hate me. Probably everyone hates me. I've been here less than a day and I'm already the worst guest in human history."
"Jisung doesn't hate you." Felix assured him, moving over to sit on the edge of the bed. "He's okay. After showering three times and telling the story to everyone in dramatic detail, he was actually laughing about it."
"He was laughing?" Hyunjin raised his head in surprise.
"Jisung is dramatic." Changbin explained. "He loves having stories to tell. And you just gave him the most dramatic story of the whole year. Possibly of the entire decade."
"I'm not sure if that's good or bad." Hyunjin muttered, accepting the bowl of soup Felix offered him.
"It's definitely good." Felix assured him. "Trust me, it's much better to be memorable for funny reasons than to be completely forgettable."
Hyunjin accepted the bowl with trembling hands, immediately noticing that it was handmade ceramic, probably local, definitely not from the Chinese porcelain tableware he was used to using. But when the scent of soup reached his nose, he had to admit that it smelled incredibly good. Homemade, comforting, as if it had been made with love rather than obligation.
"Did you make this?" he asked, looking at Felix.
"We both did." Felix replied. "Changbin is surprisingly good with soups."
"My grandmother taught me." Changbin explained with a shy smile that contrasted completely with his intimidating appearance. "She said that knowing how to make good soup was essential to keeping the family happy."
Hyunjin took a small spoonful, waiting... well, he wasn't sure what he expected. His experience with "homemade" food was mostly limited to his personal chef's occasional attempts to make something "rustic," which usually resulted in pretentious versions of simple dishes that cost more than a normal person's monthly salary.
But this... this was different.
It was simple, yes, but in a way that felt nourishing rather than primitive. The broth had a depth of flavor that suggested hours of slow cooking, the vegetables were perfectly cooked, and the chicken melted in his mouth as if it had been prepared with endless patience.
"This is... really good." he said, and he couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.
"Did you expect it to be horrible?" asked Changbin with amusement.
"I... I'm not sure what I expected." Hyunjin admitted. "I guess... simple food has always seemed to me synonymous with boring food."
"Ah," Felix said understandingly. "The problem with complicated food is that sometimes it forgets to be delicious because it's so busy being impressive."
Hyunjin contemplated this observation while taking another spoonful. It made sense, although he had never thought of it that way. Most of the food he ate regularly was designed to impress: exotic ingredients, elaborate preparations, artistic presentations. But this soup, made with ingredients that had probably cost less than ten dollars in total, somehow felt more satisfying than any five-star meal he'd ever had.
"Thank you." he said after a moment. "For the soup, for explaining everything to me, for... for not making me feel like a complete mess."
"You're welcome." Felix replied with a warm smile. "And Hyunjin, what happened today with Jisung... honestly, in a month we'll all be laughing about it. Even you."
"If you say so." Hyunjin muttered, though he secretly doubted he could ever laugh at throwing up on a stranger in a shared bathroom.
"I say so." Changbin confirmed. "This place has a way of taking your worst moments and turning them into the best stories."
There was a knock on the door, and before anyone could answer, it opened to reveal two more people.
"Hyunjin!" The voice was incredibly energetic for someone who had supposedly just been traumatized. "Are you awake? I have people I want you to meet!"
It was Jisung, the boy he had vomited on just a few hours ago. But instead of looking traumatized or furious, Jisung was smiling broadly, as if vomiting on him had been some kind of bonding experience rather than a biological disaster.
Behind him was another boy that Hyunjin immediately knew had to be Jeongin. If Jisung was pure energy, Jeongin was pure warmth. He had a smile that could light up entire cities and eyes that shone with genuine kindness that was almost overwhelming.
"Hello!" said Jeongin in a voice that was as warm as his smile. "I'm Jeongin. I heard you had a pretty... adventurous day."
"That's a very kind way to describe it." Hyunjin muttered, his face burning with embarrassment.
"Jisung told me the whole story." Jeongin continued with obvious joy. "With sound effects and everything. It was very entertaining."
"Sound effects?" asked Hyunjin faintly.
"It was an artistic performance!" Jisung protested proudly. "I have to say, it was probably my best performance of the year. Felix almost fell out of his chair laughing."
"Jisung has a talent for drama." Felix explained with a smile.
"And besides," Jisung continued, reaching over to sit at the foot of Hyunjin's bed with the familiarity of someone who clearly didn't know the concept of personal space, "I wanted to apologize for yelling so much. I was in shock, but I shouldn't have made such a scene."
"You're apologizing to me?" Hyunjin couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I vomited on you!"
"Yeah, well," Jisung said with a mischievous smile, "technically it was an accident. And honestly, you've given me the best story to tell in years. I've already sent messages to my sister with all the details. She thinks it's hysterical."
"Your sister thinks it's hysterical that a stranger vomited on you." Hyunjin repeated slowly, trying to process this logic.
"My family is weird." Jisung admitted cheerfully. "But in a good way."
Jeongin sat down next to Jisung, and Hyunjin couldn't help but notice how their hands automatically met, intertwining with the ease of something they had done a thousand times before.
"Can I ask a question?" said Hyunjin suddenly.
"Of course." Jeongin replied.
"Why is everyone so... kind? Shouldn't you be furious with me? Or at least annoyed?"
The four boys exchanged glances, and there was a moment of silent communication that Hyunjin couldn't decipher.
"We've all had bad days." Felix finally said. "We've all done embarrassing things, we've had accidents, we've screwed up in spectacular ways. To be cruel to you for an accident would be... hypocritical."
"Besides," Jisung added with a smile, "it's obvious that you're completely out of your element. And there's something adorable about seeing someone so obviously rich and spoiled trying to adjust to normal life."
"I'm not adorable." Hyunjin protested. "I'm a mess."
"You can be both," Jeongin pointed out with wisdom that seemed beyond his years.
Hyunjin found himself smiling in spite of himself, sipping more soup as he listened to Jisung recount an exaggerated version of his "bathroom trauma" that somehow made it seem more like a comedy than the disaster it had been.
And for the first time since he had arrived at the farm, Hyunjin felt something that could have been hope.
Maybe, just maybe, these six months weren't going to be a prison sentence after all.
Something that felt very much like the possibility of finding a real family for the first time in his life.