“Well, I’ve listened to Aaron Yan. He sings as well.”
“Ah, yes. The one I resemble. I’ll play you some Mandopop, but first, let’s hear your top three K-pop songs.” When Simon gave him a pained look, Hong-Wei laughed. “All right. Your top five? Ten?”
“I’ll give you a general sampling without giving them a superlative order.” Picking his phone up off the table, Simon settled against Hong-Wei.
Simon waded through his files, searching for the best song to play first. He had his favorites, of course, but he wanted to select the right song to lure Hong-Wei into his world. He ended up with “View” by SHINee.
“I mean, I know it’s not anything special.” Simon tensed, abruptly aware of each note of the song, of every movement and breath of the man behind him.
Hong-Wei ran his hands down Simon’s arms. “It’s fine. It’s a pleasant pop song. Do you know what they’re saying?”
Simon did his best to remember. It had been a while since he’d looked up the lyrics. “I know they talked about tasting the light and seeing the color of the music, or something like that. About sixth senses, how the listener shouldn’t hide anymore because tonight is the night. It’s okay if it’s a little rough, because it’s a beautiful view. Take them to the beautiful view, etc. There’s stuff about oceans, skies, and promises to show you everything.”
“All right, then. So they’re not holding anything back.”
“Well, they’re a boy band, and their roles are to be everyone’s princes on stage, so it fits. Though for SHINee the story is sad. Their lead singer committed suicide. The pressure the producers and managers put on these guys to maintain their roles and keep up their images is insane. It got to him, basically. He was a vocal supporter of LGBT rights too, and the trolls online went after him. The whole thing made me so upset.”
Hong-Wei continued stroking him. “That is sad.”
Feeling as if he’d brought down the mood, Simon went in an entirely different direction for his second choice. He played “Peek-A-Boo,” and three notes hadn’t played before Hong-Wei chuckled.
“My sister loves this group. I can’t remember the name, but it’s something like cake?”
“Red Velvet. I love them. All their stuff is so great.”
“Yes. As I said, she’d watch your dramas with you as well.”
Simon tipped his head back to give Hong-Wei puppy-dog eyes. “Will you watch my dramas with me?”
Now Hong-Wei had the look of someone wanting to get out of the question. “You’re going to hit me with both in one night? Here I thought I was being so cool with the K-pop.”
“Well, one could argue you were too cool with the K-pop, and now I’m feeling bold.” Simon shifted to sit sideways between Hong-Wei’s legs and bit his lip to stop his smile as he added, “Jared and Owen watch them with me.”
All Hong-Wei’s reluctance evaporated. “Pick your favorite show. We’re watching it now.”
Soon after they had a bowl of popcorn, a bottle of wine, and It Started With a Kiss playing on the television.
“So let me get this straight.” Hong-Wei sipped at his wine. “This is the Taiwanese version of this drama, the original Taiwanese version which came out in 2005, though recently they made a Taiwanese remake of this same show. But first this story was a Japanese manga and a Japanese drama, and between the two Taiwanese editions it’s seen a second Japanese adaptation, a Korean version, and a Thai version, the Japanese one last and consisting of two seasons. And this version we’re watching also has two seasons. Did I get it right?”
Simon beamed at him. “You got it perfectly, and in one try, with the show playing in the background and everything. Owen and Jared have seen it seven times, I’ve explained it a million ways, and they still say it doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.” Hong-Wei reached for popcorn. “As for understanding what’s going on while the drama plays, it’s not difficult. I mean, I understand the language.”
“That’s why I picked this version. Well, and because it’s the best one. I think it’s pretty faithful to the manga. In the Japanese versions she’s Kotoko, not Xiang Qin, and they make a few other cultural changes with each country’s version. I love this one, though. I love so many Taiwanese dramas. Netflix has a lot, but there are so many more on DramaFever. I can leave my account logged into your TV.” He blushed. “I mean, I know you don’t really want to watch them except with me.”
“I love the idea of sitting here and watching shows with you.”
Simon gave him a hard glare. “You’re only doing this because you want to one-up Owen and Jared. Which I admit, I used to lure you in, but now all I can think about is you’re secretly hating this, and I regret it.”
“You shouldn’t. Maybe I took up the challenge because of it, but now that you’re tucked up against me, cheeks flushed and excited as you explain things about a show in my native language….” He trailed off, and Simon was surprised to see how soft and almost shy Hong-Wei’s expression had become. “Well, let’s put it this way. If you moved into my house in high school because of an earthquake the way the heroine in this show did, watched Asian dramas with me, and gazed at me like that, I’d have fallen in love with you a long time ago.”
Simon’s heart stopped, fluttered, and flipped over. He pulled back, staring at Hong-Wei, the show forgotten. “What—what did you say?”
Hong-Wei looked truly abashed now. “You heard me.”
Simon’s chest swelled, and he could barely breathe. “You just told me you loved me. During It Started With a Kiss.”
Hong-Wei’s whole face was red, and he couldn’t meet Simon’s gaze. “Yes, and I believe I’ve said I loved you before, haven’t I? Now stop. Your reaction is making me needlessly self-conscious.”
He had said so already, yes, but Simon almost wished this had been the first time, because this was an Asian drama moment come to life. Of course, if he looked at it another way, he’d now received two beautiful confessions from Hong-Wei. Who cared what order they’d come in.
He leaned in and kissed Hong-Wei sweetly on the lips. “I love you too. And I want you to know if I’d gone to your high school, I absolutely would have been your Yuan Xiang Qin.”
They ended up watching the show all night long, Simon dozing occasionally because he was exhausted. Hong-Wei, however, stayed awake for the entire thing because he was hooked. “This is so charming. Ridiculous, but charming.”
Simon sighed happily. “I know. Nothing makes me feel better after a terrible day than to put on this show. In this version he’s so in love with her—subtly so, but it’s clearly present in the way it isn’t in any of the other versions. Plus they play with each other. The director obviously let them riff and then kept rolling and put it in the final version. None of the other ones do that. So watching this means it’s like visiting family. Nothing against my actual family, but….” Simon wasn’t sure how to phrase the rest without sounding offensive.
“I know exactly what you mean. It’s like the perfect family in a bubble, with contained, controlled reactions. The conflict is measured out with spoons. And since it’s a romantic comedy, you know the ending, you know how it will resolve, so it feels safe. I understand why you love this. I can’t say I mind it either.”
They watched a good chunk of the show that night, and as soon as Hong-Wei finished his rounds the next day, they dove right back in, Hong-Wei turning the television on as soon as he had his shoes off. They ate more takeout and snuggled together under a soft throw on the couch as the drama raced ever closer to its thrilling conclusion.
Simon’s heart felt so swollen with love and happiness. This is what I’ve waited for. Who I’ve been waiting for. This kind of understanding and sharing of his joy was so much more than he’d ever hoped for, and yet here Hong-Wei was, right beside him. He wanted to hug Hong-Wei, to press him into the couch and kiss him so passionately he’d never recover.
But it was almost time for the kiss in the rain, so he
kept quiet.
When the show was finished at four in the morning, they stumbled up the stairs together, exhausted.
“I can’t believe we watched the whole thing,” Hong-Wei murmured blearily. “But that ending was worth it.”
“Wait until you see the sequel. It’s even better than the first one. At the end of each episode while the credits roll, they dress up as elderly versions of themselves and watch the highlight reel of the preview for the next one. Their relationship is a lot more developed, as are the ones of the other characters, and they tie so many things together. The ending is so incredibly moving too—I cry my eyes out every time. It’s tragic, though, because there was supposed to be a part three, but it never got made. Ariel Lin, the actress who plays Xiang Qin, had to bow out for health reasons.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“You’ll really be aching when you see the second season and realize you could have had more and I tell you what it was supposed to be. But it’s still good, and in a way, the open-ended nature of it is good too. Also, Aaron Yan is in this, by the way. He was in the one we just finished, but he has a more prominent role in the second installment.”
Hong-Wei cast a side glance at Simon. “He’s not a doctor, is he?”
“No, he’s Chun Mei’s boyfriend. Ah Bu. The rich guy. This is his first role. It’s not his best, but it’s his start.”
Hong-Wei seemed to relax. “Good. Because I’m not competing with this guy.”
Simon nuzzled his shoulder. “Aaron Yan doesn’t hold a candle to you.”
“You remember that.” Hong-Wei kissed Simon’s hair. “We’ll start watching tomorrow. Maybe at a more sedate pace, though?” He smiled. “I can see why you enjoy these. They’re heartwarming. And they make me proud, to know my home country made them.”
“While Asian romance dramas all have this same spirit, I feel the Taiwanese ones have the most heart. I love them all, though. I enjoy the warm, fuzzy feelings they give me.” Simon stroked Hong-Wei’s bangs, his forehead, his cheeks. “But I like the warm, fuzzy feelings you give me best of all.”
They fell into bed together, a tangle of weary limbs. It wasn’t their most dramatic or cinematic lovemaking. In fact, they were almost too tired to carry themselves over the finish line. Even so, of all the times Hong-Wei had made love to him so far, the morning after binge-watching his favorite Asian drama with his boyfriend was forever Simon’s favorite.
Chapter Thirteen
HONG-WEI WASN’T only falling in love with Simon. The rest of Copper Point was steadily seeping into his heart as well.
Simon’s family, particularly his mother, charmed him by degrees, and by the end of July, when Maddy asked them over for dinner, he looked forward to it. The Lanes liked it when he brought takeout from China Garden, begging him to order from what everyone called his secret menu, despite Zhang formally printing it up and calling the section Little Taipei. It was with the Lane family Hong-Wei finally taught his boyfriend how to use chopsticks, in part because Simon’s mother and his younger sister, Lia, who was home from college at the time, fussed with him until he became so annoyed Hong-Wei was pretty sure Simon got the knack of it to spite them. They cooked Taiwanese dishes for Hong-Wei too, always asking what he missed the most.
“It’s beef noodle soup,” he said when they wouldn’t give up, “but I’m so picky, you shouldn’t bother. I’m terribly spoiled and only like the version my grandmother and sister make.”
They didn’t attempt to make the soup, but they did learn how to make a decent oyster omelet, which he appreciated.
Hong-Wei even had a soft spot for the way Simon’s father barely engaged with anyone and stayed in his chair reading the paper until someone lured him into the conversation, at which point he doled out words as if they were diamonds. It reminded Hong-Wei of his grandfather, and made him a little homesick.
Several times, in fact, he left the Lane household and sat in his condo with his phone in his hand, his father’s contact information pulled up, his thumb ready to dial. As of yet, he couldn’t bring himself to press the button. Whenever he failed to call, he took a walk along the bay and asked himself what else he needed to do before he was ready to reach out, what achievement would make him feel worthy again.
It wasn’t only the Lanes occupying Hong-Wei’s time, though. Ram Rao was always dragging him out for coffee, so much so that Hong-Wei usually had to schedule their appointments so he could see Simon after and soothe his jealous feathers. Ram had no romantic designs on him, this much Hong-Wei could tell. Ram was all about his potential quartet. At first they met to discuss theoretical plans, but once Hong-Su shipped his violin, Ram plotted in earnest, coming to meet Hong-Wei at the hospital cafeteria on his break.
“When do you think we should start practice?” Ram tapped the side of his paper cup with a mad look in his eye. “Do you think three times a week is too much?”
“Definitely. I’ll be lucky if I can attend one rehearsal, only ever on the weekend, and if I get called in for an emergency surgery, we’ll have to reschedule. I can keep up with practicing on my own. I’ll play at Simon’s—and Jared and Owen’s house, so I don’t bother my neighbors.”
Ram sighed. “All right. Well, I guess we’ll make do. I can hardly argue with the surgeon. That’s grim, you never getting time off. You need backup.”
“They’re working on it. I have more than I did when I first started, though I’m also busier than I was then too.” Hong-Wei smiled. “In any event I’m looking forward to the quartet. I’m a bit rusty, and I’d like more time to practice than I’ll have, but I’ll make it work.”
“You’re kidding, right? I still have goose bumps from when you picked up the student violin in my office and launched into that Mozart piece like you were onstage.”
Now Hong-Wei was flustered. “I was warming up.”
“Exactly my point. You totally could have gone into music, man.” Ram patted him on the arm. “But I’m glad you’re here as our doctor. Never know when we’re going to have something so dire that we’ll need you, and in the meantime, you can play.”
They were interrupted by a commotion at the front of the cafeteria, and people began to pour into the room. Ram looked confused, but now Hong-Wei had learned to read the signs. He gestured to where Simon, Owen, and Jared were taking their places next to the portable stereo. “They’re doing one of their performances. Jared must have a discharge.”
Ram’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I’ve heard about these. I’m excited to get to see one.” The music began, the guys began to dance and lip-sync, and Ram wrinkled his nose, laughing. “Oh my God, they’re kind of bad. I love it. This is Simon’s K-pop stuff, right? They should do some Bollywood numbers. Really bring the house down.”
That night Simon had to work, and though Owen and Jared tried to get Hong-Wei to come over, he declined, opting to sit at home instead. He thought a lot about what Ram had said—all the things he had said. About playing music and being a doctor especially, but also how much joy he’d had over the quartet and the silly performance in the cafeteria.
When his sister called, he was almost relieved. “This was a good move for you after all, wasn’t it. You’re exhausted the same as you always were, but you’re happy now. That’s new.”
“I like it here.” He didn’t try to hide the vulnerability in his voice. “I know this isn’t the sort of place everyone expected me to end up, and I found my way here in an unconventional manner, but… I think I’m glad this is where I landed.”
Her tone was soothing, not the usual wry sarcasm. “Don’t be scared. It’s okay. I’m glad you’re happy.”
He was scared, but he decided it was time to take the first step, with Hong-Su. “I know I’ve let everyone down, but I’m working hard here in Copper Point to be the doctor the community needs. I’m doing good work. I can say that now with confidence. It’s not as showy as what I was doing before, but it matters to the patients here.” He gripped his phone tighter. “It matters to me
.”
The pause on the other end of the line was torture, but when she finally spoke, she didn’t say what he expected her to. “You need to have this conversation with Mom and Dad more than you need to have it with me. But I’ll tell you this much. Don’t assume you know how they feel. Don’t assume you know what I think about your situation either. I understand you were disappointed in yourself when you left, and I wasn’t going to tell you not to be hard on yourself because I was raised in the same house as you, and I get it. At the same time, I get you, Hong-Wei. I know what our parents don’t know, what our grandparents can’t understand, what it was like to be thrown into this country and try to turn into all-American kids as quickly as possible, while still being good Asian kids too. Never mind figuring out you were gay all by yourself on top of it all. I just want—” Her voice broke, and it took her a moment to recover. “I just want you to be happy. I mean it. I know happy to you means succeeding, making them proud, making yourself proud. So I want you to be able to do that in whatever way works for you. What I want you to hear from me, though, is that all I want for you, all I want, is for you to be happy. And I’ll always be here to help you find it, no matter how many times you fall down trying to find that happiness.”
Hong-Wei shut his eyes, but the tears that had begun halfway through his sister’s speech continued to fall. “Thank you.”
She sniffled, then let out a long sigh. “All right. Enough of making ourselves a mess. Let me tell you this funny story that happened to me this afternoon.”
He listened to her story, let her voice wash over him, soothing him, centering him the way it always did.
IT WAS the Firefighter’s Pancake Breakfast, the annual fundraiser during the second weekend in August, and Simon was losing his patience.
Simon, Hong-Wei, Jared, and Owen had gone together with the intent of letting Hong-Wei and Simon split off, but when most of the board turned up as well, including John Jean Andreas, they decided it would be best to drift apart. Simon ended up sitting with his mother, watching Hong-Wei be flirted with by the entire town, including Ram.
The Doctor's Secret (Copper Point Medical Book 1) Page 23