Page 8 of Damian & Jun: Episodes 5-8
“I think I should change what I said, then: Yohei, Geun, Jaewoong, and Su-jin are my family.”
Damian smiled. “I thought so.”
Jun had to look away before he teared up. He wasn’t used to someone looking at him with as much affection and compassion as Damian was looking at him right then. He pulled his hand back and busied himself with drinking more water. Wiping his mouth, he said, “So, uh, holes. We did family. What’s next?”
“Pretty sure that was the CliffsNotes version.” Damian smiled, his eyes still soft. He didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped some of the shredded cheese and meat together, put it in his mouth, and chewed, staring off into the corner, thinking. “Education. What kind of education have you had?”
“Education, er,” Jun rubbed the back of his head. “Bit all over. I sort of finished Korean high school in Seoul. In Seattle, I went to a public school in English and did Chinese studies at home with my mom. I first learned English from my nanny and preschool—at least, that’s what she told me. I don’t remember my nanny. I do remember preschool. But my mother always spoke to me in Mandarin. And then in Korea, I did a lot of different things. Bak brought in tutors and had different people teach me. I’m not sure all of them were real teachers? Like sometimes we talked about weird stuff. There was this old dude who just went on about his travels in India for a month. He showed me lots of pictures of temples and cows and lots of snakes, but I don’t think he liked them? Before I went there for a show, that’s what I thought India was all about.”
Damian chuckled. “There’s so much more to India. So much good food, so many different cultures. A lot of modern business energy.”
Jun nodded vigorously. “I think he was telling me about his trip when he was really young, like sixty years ago. Pretty sure he was a missionary. Every time he was in a picture, he was holding a book with a cross on the front of it. He showed me documentaries on African lions, too. I’m not sure why, but he talked a lot about somebody named El Shaddai being stronger than the lions. I kept waiting for the El Shaddai person to show up in the movie, but it didn’t happen.”
Damian started to laugh. “You don’t know who El Shaddai is?”
“No.” Jun raised an eyebrow. “I guess you do?”
“Was this old dude a white guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Totally a missionary. El Shaddai is another name US Christians use for the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Basically, the deity worshipped by Jewish people, Christians of all sects, and Muslims. I don’t know if Christians in other countries use the name or not.”
“I thought Muslims worshipped Allah?”
“Allah is god in Arabic.”
“Oh. But then why do people not just say god when they’re speaking English? Is it a religious thing? Like, I say ?? (Meiguó) when I’m speaking Chinese to refer to the United States, and I say China when I’m speaking English to refer to China.”
Damian leaned back in his chair, a grape between his fingers. “You know, that’s a good question. I don’t know. Because Catholics don’t refer to their god using Latin when speaking English; otherwise, they’d say deus. And Latin used to be the language most European Christians used in their liturgy.”
Jun tossed the stem of his grape at the fruit tray. “I feel stupid. I don’t know all this stuff.”
“A lot of people don’t.” Damian popped his grape in his mouth. “You should ask Émeric. He speaks Arabic. Maybe he knows. A lot of this kind of knowledge you pick up randomly as you travel and talk to people. I bet you know tons about music, sound stages, dance, Korean trivia, and things I don’t know.”
“Just like you know a ton about law.”
“There’s always more to know about the law.” Damian yawned. “That’s why I try to read a couple of new cases a week or at least summaries on them. I’m always meeting people who know something I don’t. It’s anxiety inducing. Which is why I decided to learn law for two different countries so I could be even more embarrassed.”
Jun giggled. “Do you read two or three cases a week in each language or just collectively?”
Damian rolled his eyes. “How much music do you listen to every week, and how many new dance routines do you check out?”
“Too many.”
They shared a moment of perfect, beautiful understanding, grinning like idiots.
Damian made a silly face. “Imposter syndrome’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
Jun laughed outright.
Damian waved his hand at the food. “Do you want more?”
Jun grabbed three more profiteroles and some meat as well as a handful of blueberries. Damian cleared off the trays and came back with more water.
A little while later, curled up in Damian’s bed again, Damian’s groin pressed perfectly against his rear, Jun snuggled down. “So, if I have to pee again, should I just bite you, or is there a better way to wake you?”
Damian groaned and pulled Jun in tighter, pinning him down with his leg again. “Bite me and I’ll bite back.”
