[Fanfic] The Dividing Line

[cykstar.livejournal.com]

YEAH first post! And it's a depressing one...yup. Forgive me if the cut doesn't work ( will go back and either delete my post or try to fix it). LJ-cut hates me.

Title: The Dividing Line
Author/Artist: cykstar
Character(s) or Pairing(s): The Koreas, China, allusions to Japan and America
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Minor violence, wounds, and North Korea is a girl. Just because I think it would be an interesting mix.
Summary: Im Yong Su has one wound that will never heal.

           

A lot of this is written on the general Korean desire for reunification. Also I remember watching a news program of when North Koreans and South Koreans were allowed to see each other and it was heart breaking. So many families had been split up.

 

            Quick note: mugunghwa is the Korean national flower (if me saying mugunghwa flower is like saying flower flower, I’m sorry). Oh yeah, and those cobweb like treats are these delicious candy like things (well, not candy like Starbursts or Sour Patch Kids, but like natural sweets like honey) that used to be served to royalty. I forgot the name for them, thus cobweb like treats.

 

            One final note: WHOO KIM SAMSOON!

 

“Let us become one again. Soviet Union has taught me such wonderful things, Yong Su. Back then—do you remember? Back then you fought against me, took away so many of our dearest people. I remember you crying. Do you remember me crying? Don’t you want the tears to stop? For this endless rain to end forever and to never come back? For those sunny days to return and never disappear”

 

            Yong Su sucked on his (Obviously made in Korea) popsicle, chewing on the plastic and spitting out bits and pieces as they tore off from the tip. He squeezed the bottom, sucking in sweet and sticky juices, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat and into the pits of his stomach.

 

            “Yong Su, just cut that thing in half, aru.” Yao stared at Korea, obviously annoyed by the younger nation’s tedious work.

 

            “But I don’t want to, hyung.” Yong Su spoke, the cold treat bobbing up and down as he freely talked with it in his mouth. “It’s much more fun eating like this.”

 

            “You’re getting plastic all over my rugs, aru!” Yao cried out, noticing stray pieces of chewed plastic on the floor.

 

            “Details, details.” Yong Su mumbled, sucking in more of the melted juice.

 

            “Ya, Yong Su…don’t you want to be together again? Don’t you want to play together again? Remember when that damned Japan ruined our people? Remember when that damned America took you away from me?”

 

            Yong Su sucked in and swallowed the rest of the popsicle, chewing on icy bits before setting the plastic container aside. “Yum.” He sighed contently, a satisfied smile plastered on his face.

 

            “UGH, YONG SU!” Yao grabbed the plastic and quickly rushed over to the nearest garbage can. “STOP ruining my furniture, ARU!”

 

            “Yong Su!”

 

            Yong Su suddenly shot up from his seat and crossed his arms, a haughty laugh escaping him. “Let’s go driving!”

 

            “Oh no, I am not letting YOU drive, aru.”

 

            “But you drive like a granny!”

 

            “And YOU drive like—“

 

            “Details, details.”

 

            “LET ME FINISH, ARU!”

 

            “Yong Su, don’t you remember the good days? Don’t you remember eating kimchi with our fingers on sunny days and picking mugunghwa flowers from the bushes? Don’t you remember those cobweb like treats the King would give us?”

 

            Yong Su suddenly grabbed his chest, wheezing a little. Bullets ran down his face and his vision slightly blurred. “I’ll be right back.” He excused himself quickly, running to the nearest restroom.

 

            Yao turned, following Yong Su with his eyes. He quietly followed, knowing what it was that bothered the boy so much.

 

            “It hurts me just as well. Yours is still bleeding right? Mine is still wide open. No matter how many stitches I put on, it never closes. Never.”

 

            Yong Su kicks down the door ungracefully and tears off his hanbok top. He sees the red bleeding through his bandages and narrows his eyes, sickened.

 

            Yao is leaning against the doorway, staring at the broken hinges of his bathroom door. “Need help, aru?”

 

            Yong Su places his fingers over the wound, hissing as the mere touch sends waves of pain down his spine. “When don’t I?” he whispers sadly, slowly peeling away the stained gauze as Yao retreats to find the first-aid kit.

 

            Yon Su’s braid flickers in the wind, in the thick smog. Her head is bent slightly back, mouth slightly open as her tongue gently licks the blood from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated, never shifting, never ceasing. They remained focused on Yong Su, even as he walked away from her, even as the smog veiled him from her sight.

 

            “I will be weak no more, Yong Su.”

 

            Yong Su stares at his abdomen. It was covered with faded scars; scars that remained yet were disappearing with time. He could remember the searing heat of the blade as it ran across his skin. The pale white skin, lifeless eyes, and unrelenting stance…

 

            Yong Su quickly folded a towel and ran it under warm water. He placed the soaking wet cloth over his bloody wound, hissing as the warm water touched raw flesh.

 

            “Yon Su!” Yong Su cried out, hands reaching out to her. He approached her slowly, desperate, crying. “What are you doing, Yon Su? Our people…you’re killing our family!”

 

            Yon Su holds a primitive sword in one hand and a gun in the other. “Yong Su…we have no need for naughty children, am I correct?” She raises her head, eyes wide and delusional. “Yong Su…Kim Il Sung ahboji is so strong. With him…we can return to those old days. Remember those old days, Yong Su?”

 

            “Eating kimchi under the sun…”

 

            “Picking mugunghwa flowers from the neighbor’s bushes…”

 

            “Climbing trees, laying in the grass…”

 

            “Counting stars and sleeping under the moonlight…”

 

            “Playing with hyung-nim and everyone else…”

 

            “While we shared those cobweb like treats we got from the King.”

 

            “Molding clay into pottery..”

 

            “Painting everything we saw…”

 

            “Writing everything we felt…”

 

            “We shared the same pain…”

 

            “The same joy…”

 

            “And now…the same wound.” Yon Su lunged, quickly slashing Yong Su straight down his chest, right above his heart.

 

            At the same time, out of pure instinct, Yong Su grabbed the gun as she lunged towards him and shot her right below the heart.

 

            Nothing was said as they both stared at each other until Yong Su collapsed into the arms of America. “Yon Su…”

 

            Yong Su breathed heavily; relaxing after the pain subsided. The wound remained, scarred tissue running over his heart, dividing his left and right. Whenever he began remembering her smile, her charm, her dilated pupils, and tears of pain, he bled.

 

            And he figured that it was the tears of their dead people.

 

            Yao returned with the first aid kit and gently treated the wound as best as he could. He wrapped the gauze tightly over Yong Su’s chest and sighed. “Does it hurt?” He asked, a quiet question asked every time memories caused them pain.

 

            Yong Su bent down for his hanbok, saw a blood stain and tossed it into the sink to wash.

 

            “Yong Su…Yong Su…” Yon Su sobbed, finally seeing her brother after so long.

 

            She no longer held her sunny charm.

 

            She was much thinner than before, her cheeks sunken in, revealing high cheekbones and a much too defined jaw. Her once soft and plump hands were bony and cold against his strong and warm ones.

 

            Yet her voice sounded exactly the same as the day they ate kimchi one fine sunny day.

 

            Yong Su quickly grabbed her and squeezed her tightly into him, breathing in the unfamiliar smells. “We’ll be together once more. Just a little more time.”

 

            Yon Su trembled. “I’ve missed you…we’ll become one…for sure…under Kim Jong I--”

 

            Yong Su ruffled his hair quickly, trying his best to forget it all. “It doesn’t hurt. Nothing could ever hurt as much as she’s felt.”

 

            Yong Su stood at the divided line, armed men standing in front of him. It was dead quiet in this place; nothing moved and nothing dared to breath.

 

            More than anything, he wanted to cross that line. Even if it meant being pelted with bullets.

 

            Yon Su watched him from the other side of the line. She did not dare cross the line either.

 

            They watched each other from such a short distance. Close enough to speak and too far away to touch.

 

            Yao patted Yong Su’s back gently. “Come on, let’s go watch some Korean dramas, aru.”

 

            “Really?!”

 

            “Yeah, I kinda want to see that Kim Samsoon one again.”

 

            “Hur, hur, better than whatever Japan could come up with!”

            “Yong Su, look at those mugunghwa flowers! Aren’t they pretty?”

Comments

[paninikins.livejournal.com]

A kim samsoon and hetalia fan! nice (i never finished that series...hmmm). this fic is cool since people are not fully aware that the korea in hetalia is S. Korea, and if they are aware, they don't like talking about it. Nice potrayal of characters especially when China looses his verbal tic (-aru?) when he is serious. you made me happy! :D

[cykstar.livejournal.com]

At first I thought Korea was like the whole Korea (who would eventually die and we would have N. Korea and S. Korea). Then I saw his profile thing and saw that his flag is the S. Korean flag. So yeah, he has to be South.

If I kept the -aru it would ruin the tension XD "I'm your father...aru." does not work at all.