Yoongi was sweating like an ox. It was supposed to be early spring, but the planet had decided that it was going to skip spring this year for the sake of jumping right into summer. Yoongi hated summer. It was too warm, too bright, too everything, and it was making the fish rot faster, which meant it was too much work for too little money. With a groan he wiped off the sweat on his face and emboweled the next fish.

The wives around him were chatting away happily as ever. They seemed to like the sudden summer breeze and had replaced their winter jackets for pullovers with sleeves rolled up to their elbows. Their hats had been replaced as well with colorful scarfs to hold their hair. Yoongi was still sweating in his winter garments, fooling himself that if he kept up the image of cold, the heat would retreat again.

"Have you heard from your Haesong? How's his engagement coming along?" Ahnji asked Eunha.

Eunha had established herself as the unofficial leader of the women squad in Jookchon. Her biggest pride were her twins, Haesong and Jaesong. Both of them had fled this rotten island the very moment they had turned eighteen, just like every other young person. Jaesong was now working his ass off for some manager job in a sub-sub-sub-branch of some company from Seoul, and Haesong had managed to get engaged with a rich girl from Seoul who was willing to pay for his expenses while he did his PhD. She was coming from an academia family, so Haesong had to keep up appearances if he wanted her father to agree to this marriage. Those twins had been the most successful in building a new life that had nothing to do with the sea and fish. The rest of the sons and daughters had gotten some minor jobs in minor companies and Ahnji's daughter had somehow managed the civil service exam and was on her way to become a policewoman.

Yoongi knew all of this because there was nothing else to talk about. Their whole island had about twenty thousand inhabitants, and their sole income was made by fish, oysters, and langoustines. Every day was the same just as the wind that was always blowing.

"They'll come visit us in May," Eunha reported proudly. "And we plan on visiting her family in July. They have a house in Gangnam." The group of women dissolved into screeches and chaotic chatting, so Yoongi ignored them and focused back on his fish.

Abruptly the chatter died down.

"Am I dreaming?" whispered Ahnji. A gush of whispers echoed hers.

When Yoongi looked up to see what the interruption was about, he indeed saw a strange sight. There was a young man approaching them. He was obviously a tourist, no one would come to a fisher island with a wool coat and leather shoes. The question was why a tourist would come to this god forsaken land in the first place.

"So handsome," he heard one of the wives, answered by a gush of giggles.

Yoongi didn't know if he should be repulsed or amused by their girlish behavior, but they had a point. That tourist was one hell of handsome. This place had never seen a beauty like that before. Hell, even if the tourist had been average at best, his youth would have been attractive. Apart from Yoongi there was only one young couple left on this island, Jongwoo and Minha, and those two were, quite frankly, not up to intellectual standard to survive anywhere else. They were good people though and Yoongi liked them for they were decent neighbors.

"Good afternoon, aunties," the handsome man greeted them and caused another gush of whispers and giggles. Yoongi instantly liked his voice. "Is there a hostel here or some place where one can stay for a few weeks?" Mr. Tourist wanted to know.

Eunha snorted. "Young man, you've come to the wrong place. This isn't some holiday resort. We don't have hotels and bars."

"We have one bar though," Hwaseung said laughing, "Old Kim's place."

That lit up the tourist's face. "Does he rent out rooms?"

"Nah, why would he?" Hwaseung disappointed the guy. "There's no one coming anyway. Well, except for you, young man." The wives giggled again.

"What brings you here anyway?" Eunha asked him. "Are you some kind of reporter or photographer?"

The man shook his head. "No, just needed some time away from home," he said with a nervous flicker in his eyes. "The air's nice here. Anyway, is there really no place?"

Eunha shrugged. "You can ask around. Maybe someone has a spare room." She tilted her head down the street that was running along the port. It was crowded with women, working on cleaning the fish their men had brought home today.

"Okay, thank you," Mr. Tourist said and left for the next group of wives.

"He's so cute. My Jaemi would like him," Ahnji said with sparkling eyes.

"Which girl wouldn't," Eunha said brusquely. "He definitely belongs in the city. Maybe he's one of those idol boys from the TV."

All the wives nodded. "I bet he's from Seoul," said Hwaseung. "He has that capital dialect."

"He's from Daegu," murmured Yoongi and everyone turned to him. His family had once come from Daegu too, so he had easily spotted the tilt of the tongue.

"Are you sure?" Hwaseung asked. "He doesn't look it."

"Do I look it?" Yoongi asked bored.

She frowned at him. "You're different."

Yoongi snorted and ignored her. She was probably right, though. He was from Daegu only by inheritance. He hadn't seen the city even once because his grandparents had moved to Jookchon when his dad had been a kid. And now Yoongi was stuck in this shit hole.

The arrival of the tourist was giving everyone a topic to throw themselves upon like starved vultures, and the guesswork and joking was becoming increasingly uncomfortable to listen to, so Yoongi pulled out his earphones and logged himself out of the loop. If Mr. Tourist was smart enough to leave, he'd be forgotten within a week, if he was stupid enough to stay, he'd be the talk of the town with things he didn't even knew he had done. Yoongi didn't really want to listen in any case.

With the music blasting, his work was done much faster than normally, so he excused himself early. Picking up his cane, he heaved himself out of his chair, stretched his stiff limbs and turned to go home. His bones were aching worse than normal from the sudden change in weather, and he just wished to lie down for a bit before dinner.

Yoongi was living with his grandma. She had given him the upper level of the house when his grandpa had died, insisting that she needed company and that it was time for him to have his own place. Yoongi was sure that she had done it to ease the tension between him and his parents. He was grateful anyway. Grandma would cook for him and he would help her with day-to-day problems such as changing lightbulbs and the gas tank or repairing the toaster. If he felt like it, he could accompany her in the downstairs living room for her favorite TV series and they would swoon over the handsome actors. His gran was the only one whom he had told that he liked boys and girls. His parents would never understand, least of all his mom.

"Yoongi-ah, come help grandma," the old woman called for him the very moment he opened the door.

He dropped his key on the shelf and slipped out of his jacket as fast as his bad leg allowed, then he hurried over to her.

"Little Mao shredded the curtains, help me get them down, please," she asked of him when he entered the living room.

"That stupid cat," Yoongi hissed under his breath and limped over to his gran. "I can drown it, you know."

"Don't you even think of it, boy!" she scolded him.

Little Mao was a scrawny white cat with a nasty stare and an even nastier temper. It only liked grandma and treated the rest of the world like its personal enemy, Yoongi included. The ugly little shit had only stopped pissing on his carpet when he had installed a door at the top of the stairs to keep it out. Yoongi really would've loved to kick the beast down the mole. Once his grandma had breathed her last breath, he'd burry that thing with her.

"Can you hand it down to me?" she asked him.

With the support of the cane, Yoongi climbed the chair, then he handed the stick to his gran, so that he could work on the curtain rod.

"I wanted to change them anyway," said his gran. "They look awful."

"We can agree on that," said Yoongi and she smiled. "I'll ask dad to bring some when he goes ashore."

"What a good grandson I have. Lucky me," she said happily and took the curtain rod when he handed it down to her.

Once she gave him back his cane, he climbed down.

"There's been a tourist at the port today," he informed her of the hottest news. "He looks like that Yeo Jingu, that guy from Hotel del Luna, like he came straight from a TV drama."

"Oh? What's he searching for?" she asked while fiddling the cloth off the rod. "Is he a photographer?"

"Apparently he only wants some fresh air," said Yoongi with a shrug. "The wives think he's from Seoul, but he sounds like a Daegu guy."

That seemed to catch his grandma's attention more than anything else. "Well bring him around then! We can't ignore a fellow Daegu man. Where's he going to stay anyway? The Songs closed down their business decades ago."

Yoongi shrugged.

"Did you get his number?" his gran wanted to know now.

Yoongi spluttered. "Why? Why would I get his number?"

"I thought you said he's attractive?"

"Grandma, I can't just ask a random guy for his number just because he's handsome!" Yoongi croaked.

"Why not? You might be his only chance for a roof over his head, and then you will have to share a bed, and then –"

"No! No, I'm not listening to this!" Yoongi cut her off. They really should stop watching those sappy romance dramas.

But she wouldn't let it go. Her smile had vanished. Instead, she looked serious when she grabbed his shoulders with her bony hands. "Yoongi-ah, I know that you don't believe it, but you deserve happiness, too."

"What are you say –"

"You know what I'm saying," she interrupted his mumbling. "You have locked yourself away for the better part of your youth. Don't you think it's time to leave your shell?"

Yoongi couldn't look her in the face, so he stared over her shoulder. She couldn't understand. She was his gran, so, of course, she would always love him, but in the eyes of everyone else he was a cripple. At least in this place, no one really cared. But he didn't want to know how people would look at him in the capital.

"Think about it," his grandma said and squeezed his shoulders tightly. "I'll be out for the evening. I'm meeting the girls at Old Kim's. Will you come along?"

Yoongi shook his head. He didn't feel like showing himself today.

"Fine. You know where to find food, so eat. If I find everything untouched, I will force it down your throat," she threatened him, then she finally let go of him.

Yoongi smiled at her. "I love you too, grandma."

"I love you more," she said and cupped his cheek with a soft smile. "And don't forget to call your dad about the new curtains. I want blue ones, just like the house color."

"Yes, grandma."

"Oh, and tell your mom that I made Kimchi. She can come and get her share."

"Yes, grandma."

"Now, go shower, you smell like fish."

Yoongi laughed. "Yes, grandma." And he limped up the stairs to his own quarters.

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