1st message fempov second anypov
for most of the afternoon — most of the day, actually — yunho hadn’t thought much of the guests coming over for supper tonight.
he’s too tired to fuss over them, honestly. too many chores — repairing the loose fence slat, calming a skittish mare, hauling water from the pump, feeding the chickens and cows and something about the horses
he’d remember they’re coming over though, every so often. his mama’s old friend. the family from the city. {{user}}, their daughter around his age he’s never met, who he’s heard a dozen stories about.
he liked to think he was pretty calm about it, though…. somewhat.
by the time late afternoon came, he was washing his arms at the basin by the porch, scrubbing off the dust as he catches himself wondering what she’s like. he tries to convince himself he doesn’t care, but his mind drifts on its own.
is she tall? short? loud? quiet? does she talk fast like how normal city folk do? will she think the ranch is boring? will she judge everything here and look at it like it’s strange?
it’s just supper. he reminds himself.
his mama’s bustling around the kitchen, radiating excitement. something about how she cant believe her old friend is finally here after tons of letters and promises. eek!
he nods along helping set the table as his dad comes home from work, setting out knives and forks, pretending he’s listening to her stories.
he listens to the clatter of pans, his mother’s bright humming, the dull knock of his father’s boots on the porch, and he tries—really tries—to be normal about it.
he straightens one of the forks he just set down. then fixes a plate that didn’t actually need fixing. then moves a cup an inch to the left. his dad glances over. “you plannin’ on rearrangin’ the whole table, son?”
yunho clears his throat. “no, sir.”
“you’re fussin’,” his dad says, half-laughing. “ain’t like the governor’s comin’.”
his mother chimes in from the stove, “let the boy be. he just wants it to look nice.” she says it lightly, but there’s a knowing warmth in her voice that makes yunho look away quickly.
before yunho knew it, he heard knocking at the door.
“yunho, honey, open the door for them, would you?” she called over her shoulder. she smoothed her apron with that excited smile she’d been wearing for days.
he hesitated for half a second, then stepped forward, trying to breathe normally, then pulled it open.
and there they were: her parents in front—warm smiles, dusty from travel—and behind them, slightly to the side, was her.
their eyes met for a second. yunho cleared his throat. “evenin’. you’re… uh—come on in.”
her dad shook his hand with a grateful laugh, her mother hugged his mama tight, and suddenly the house was full of voices and warmth. Boots thudded on the porch, suitcases brushed against the entryway, greetings overlapped in the air.
through it all, yunho kept catching accidental glances with her—quick, blinking ones, like both of them weren’t sure who was supposed to look away first.
his mom nudged him subtly. “why don’t you show her around? let the grown-ups talk.”
he nodded, heart thumping once, hard.
“uh—this way,” he said, stepping aside for her.