Heads or Tails
Title: Heads or Tails
Rating: G
Pairing: Hyukjae/Donghae
Length: One Shot | 3,537
Summary: Even across worlds and across lives, he would.
x x x
1.
The weather had not been kind these past few months. The ground arid and cracking under the farmer’s boots, crops wilting within a week and wells slowly drying up. He knew the famine was taking a toll on his people; the rare silence that fell upon the usual rowdy bunch spoke volumes to him.
But whether it was fate or mere coincidence that made him ride into the town that day to check on and speak to them personally about what he could do to appease the situation (actually, he just wanted to escape Heechul and his sour mood because the heat was simply too much for him to take and it was affecting the entire castle)-Hyukjae wasn’t sure. Quite frankly, he didn’t have the capacity to think that through.
Because while he sat straight on his horse, his hands clutching the reigns as he scanned what was left of the once rich greenery of the farmlands, he caught sight of a head of very chocolate brown hair. The rays of the sun bounced off the tresses in a way that hypnotized Hyukjae, his eyes trailing down the strands as they curled around a smooth cheek and soon he found himself staring into even browner eyes.
Now, it wouldn’t have been too unusual if brown was a common color and everyone didn’t have roughly the same shade hair, but it wasn’t, and they did, because this was a country of the Sun. Everyone was blonde. Supposedly.
“Hey, you.” Hyukjae pulled his horse to a stop, much to her dismay. “Brown man.”
He looked offended.
“Excuse me?”
Hyukjae frowned, wondering if people out of his country had difficulty understanding speech.
He gestured to the color of his horse, “Brown.” He said slowly-for good measure-paused, then gestured to himself, “Man.”
Hyukjae watched his eye twitch.
“I understood you the first time. Now,” He walked up to Hyukjae, tilting his head up and pointing a finger to his face, “my skin may be slightly darker than yours but I am not brown.”
He exhaled loudly at the confusion on Hyukjae’s face.
“If you are referring to my hair, then I suggest you use the term brunette.”
“Brunette.”
“Rolls off the tongue well, no?”
“Brunette.” Hyukjae repeated, fascinated by the word.
“Uh, yeah.” The Brown Man raised an eyebrow at his dazed expression, “Knock yourself out.” He turned his back and walked off.
“Wait!” Hyukjae pulled his horse to follow him, going further from the farmlands. “Brown Man! I command you halt this instant! Brown Man!”
“Would you stop calling me that?!” Hyukjae had the pleasure of staring into his eyes again, watching them dance in irritation. “You make me sound like dung.”
“Then I request for the name by which you wish me to address you.”
The brunette-Hyukjae liked using that word now-murmured something under his breath and he had to strain to hear. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
He looked up, red tinting his cheeks and it was an odd sight but Hyukjae decided he quite liked it. “Donghae.”
“Donghae.” Hyukjae smiled brightly and Donghae had to look away before his blush spreads down to his neck-it’s annoying when he gets sensitive like that. He couldn’t help the smile that creep on his lips though; after all, it was the first time someone had asked for his name.
“Hm.” The blonde said thoughtfully, “Not too far off from dung, now is it?”
It happened all too fast but Hyukjae found himself splattered on the ground beneath his horse, the belt that kept his saddle in place now clutched in Donghae’s hand as he stomped away.
His clothes were soiled-Sungmin is going to throw a fit, he’s sure-, his horse was stomping her foot in amusement and what was left of his pride as Sun prince reduced to dust.
“How dare you, peasant-” Hyukjae scrambled to his feet rather ungracefully, never in his life had he been treated with such disrespect. But after two messy steps, Donghae suddenly turned around, flipped him the finger and left with a huff.
Hyukjae was dumbfounded.
And he’d never left his mind since.
The prince hoped to meet Donghae again (to ask him what the finger in the middle was supposed to mean, just that, really) so he rode into town every afternoon, hoping to see a familiar head of brown hair, but he never did.
Eventually, he was arranged to marry a princess from the West, and being the dutiful prince he was to his people, he agreed and it was the biggest wedding celebration in the country. She was beautiful, big eyes, long silky hair and was the perfect housewife any man would beg for.
But she never could make Hyukjae smile the way Donghae did.
Even if her hair was brown.
x x x
2.
The evening danced with lights and the clinking of glass as ladies clad in long luxurious gowns, gloves that reached their elbows and silky hair curling into their waists; men in long-tail coats and suede boots chattering in polite tones and somewhat forced enthusiasm.
Beady, intricate and colorful masks adorned their eyes as they danced, ate and complimented each other’s outfit. It was the grandest ball of the year, hosted by one of the two most powerful clans of the city. Everything from the long royal curtains to the giant glass chandelier hovering about the ballroom was prepared with utmost care.
Rose petals were scattered on the marble floor-famous emblem of the family hosting the event. The Masquerade Ball was open to the entire city save for anyone associated with the castle on the opposite end.
Hyukjae sighed as he walked out to the balcony, in need of some fresh night air after hours of forcing a smile and dancing with ladies whose perfume made him want to sneeze every other minute. He knew that he shouldn’t be out here, that this ball was very important to his dad and that he should go in and get acquainted with the guests like a good son should.
But he didn't like parties and standing up straight and this goddamn mask was so itchy-Hyukjae ripped it off in one go, only to have it topple over the edge and land with a soft thud on the grass below.
He could still see it down there, the beads glinting with the occasional light that went its way. He gulped.
Key had personally made and even sewed the beads on that mask for him weeks before the actual party because he was so excited, saying it was definitely going to suit his red hair-and if he lost it now, he wasn’t so sure he’d live to see sunrise.
Hyukjae looked around, already crossing out the option of going back in and out the front door once he heard Key’s boisterous laughter not too far from the entrance to the ballroom. He sighed, and figured climbing down was the only way. They were on the second floor and surely, it wasn’t too high.
“Hyung!”
“Oh, good.” Hyukjae turned around, “Sehun, cover for me, will ya.”
“Wh-what? Hyung, where’s your-ah! Careful!”
“I dropped something.” Hyukjae said casually with a wave of his hand as he disappeared under the balcony. He heard the door open, someone ask for where he was and Sehun’s panicked reply, but their voices easily got drowned out by the chatter and classical music.
It wasn’t long before his boot reached the soft grass of the castle garden. He knelt down, feeling around for the mask for a few minutes. He saw something glinting to his left and by some weird push of adrenaline, pounced on it.
But just as his fingers reached the plastic, he felt legs trip over his side, a person landing with an oof! on the grass beside him.
“Woah,” Hyukjae got to his feet, inwardly sighing in relief as he held the mask in his hand, “you alright there? Sorry about that.”
“Y-yeah.” The stranger groaned, ignoring the hand Hyukjae offered and stood on his feet. “I’m fine. Just…what were you doing lying on the ground like that?” Hyukjae heard the frown in his voice.
“I was…ah…” He wasn’t sure how to put it without embarrassing himself. “Well,” He cleared his throat, “what were you doing running around my garden?”
The man looked up at him in shock and for the first time, their eyes met. Hyukjae wasn’t sure but he swore he thought he saw recognition flicker across the stranger’s (quite stunning) eyes.
“Your garden?” He looked shocked. “So you’re…Hyukjae?”
Hyukjae frowned but nodded nonetheless. He thought the entire city would know his face by now.
“And you’re…” He tilted his head to get a closer look at the plastic bag he noticed the man clutching, “…carrying a fish around.”
“Ah! Well, yes, uhm I…” The brunette stared openly at him now, as if trying to memorize every detail of his face and it made Hyukjae feel odd. “…really like them. Fish…” he trailed off.
“I can see that.” A firework blast into the air, probably a trial run because the show was supposed to start in an hour, but it lit up the brunette face in a way that Hyukjae thought was unfair to all the women aspiring for beauty through make-up, and expensive clothes and countless trips to the hairdresser.
“Are you from around here or…?” Hyukjae cleared his throat again, “It’s just, I don’t think I’ve see-”
“Hyung! Are you done yet?” Sehun whimpered loudly from above, “I can’t do thith anymore! Pleath!”
Hyukjae sighed; Sehun wasn’t much of a liar and his lisp shows when he gets really stressed. He started to feel a bit guilty for leaving the kid alone up there.
“I’m actually in a bit of a hurry,” He glanced at him through the corner of his eye, “but you could come with-”
The brunette’s eyes widened, as if remembering his place, before spinning around. “No, no thank you. I’m in a hurry as well. My father’s sick, you see, and-”
“Hyung! He’th coming! Key’th coming!”
“You sound like you really should get going.” The brunette smiled a bit sheepishly, before taking a step back and bowing at him. “It was an honor.”
Hyukjae scratched the back of his head, “No need to bow.”
He looked up at him, smiled brightly, and ran off before Hyukjae could protest, the water in his plastic bag shining under the moonlight.
“Wait!”
But to no avail, he was too far off for Hyukjae to chase after him and Sehun was seriously starting to sound desperate up there, so he sighed and began his climb up the castle wall.
Once he threw his leg over and his foot on palace floor again, he swore he heard what sounded like the brunette’s voice shouting in the distance.
‘It was nice seeing you again!’
That night, his father introduced him to lines and lines of the finest women of the city. Needless to say, it was difficult to talk to them when all he could think of was grass and fireworks and fish.
He wished to see him again, ask for his name, maybe even give him a tour of the castle.
But, wishes don’t always come true.
And never again did the redhead meet that one person who made him feel…odd.
x x x
3.
The cheers and screams of the crowd around him were muffled by the adrenaline he felt slowly pumping through his veins in preparation for another of many fights. He jumped in place, shaking his legs and arms, and exercising his jaw, the mouthpiece slightly uncomfortable but Hyukjae knew it would be the last thing he’d dub ‘uncomfortable’ after what was going to happen.
His dark, cropped short hair exposed his jawline and it quickly became his signature trait as a boxer. Photographers always managed to catch his glistening jawline as he lands a punch or when he dodges a hit and Hyukjae’s not entirely sure if it’s a good thing or not to be remembered for his jaw and not his jab.
Nonetheless, he’s been on one hell of a streak these past few matches-bagging two knockouts against fighters who weren’t even on his weight level and his popularity just seemed to skyrocket.
Eunhyuk! Eunhyuk!
They chanted as he jogged up to the ring, the announcer shouting his name into the microphone. He took off his robe, shook hands with his opponent, and waited for the bell to ring.
It wasn’t that Hyukjae was a violent person; boxing was all he ever knew. Youngwoon taught him personally at a tender age of 7, and since then, he really couldn’t imagine himself as anything else when he grows up. Although the training makes it very good for self-defense in case of robbery or thugs, he doesn’t break out into a fight on the street just for laughs.
The boxing ring, on the other hand, is a whole different thing.
Hyukjae fought with precision and speed, taking time to learn how his opponent moves, his weaknesses, his blind spots. Then he strikes, his mind set and muscles burning. He’d be in a whole different world and no one could reach him.
So it came as a shock when he found himself distracted during the fight instead of being in his usual trance with nothing but his gloves, opponent and the sound of the bell. He just couldn’t help but look back at that corner outside the ring, a pair of doe eyes watching his every move with awe and a spark of something else.
They were a deep brown, wide and beautiful and-he dodged an uppercut, shuffling to the left to get a better view-Hyukjae felt he could stare at them forever.
Youngwoon slapped him lightly on the cheeks, hissing at him to get a grip, because he actually lost that round.
And get a grip, he did.
Hyukjae shook himself out of his reverie; fought with a force the audience hadn’t seen on him before and got himself his third knockout in a row-all with a single goal in mind.
The crowd went wild and the reporters stumbling to get first dibs with an interview from the famous Eunhyuk, but Hyukjae could care less as he waved them off with a polite smile, saying very shortly how grateful and happy he was, before stalking off into his dressing room to put on some real clothes.
He heard Youngwoon shouting at him from behind, angry for leaving him alone with the reporters and ‘where the hell do you think you’re going, you have a bruise on your cheek, get back here!’, or something along those lines.
And Hyukjae did consider going back because he was in pain and really, what were his chances of finding one person in a place this big? But then he rounded the corner and found himself staring into those eyes again and all thoughts just flew out the window.
He should’ve been angry, really, or at least offended by the lack of respect for his personal space, but Hyukjae couldn’t find it in himself to protest as the stranger flings his arms around his neck and whispers into his ear. His breath was warm against his ear, and his hair tickled the side of his neck. Dumbstruck, the boxer could do nothing but gulp as the man released him, stepped back and smiled before running off.
He walked back to his dressing room in a daze, trying to figure out what in the world just happened and if that was considered sexual harassment from a stranger. Or had they met before? Brown Eyes seemed to have known him already.
Hyukjae racked his brain for any sort of memory of him but came up with nothing. Besides, he may have a bit of a bad memory but if he’d seen eyes those beautiful before, he knew he’d have the decency to remember it.
“Taeyeon told me she saw you with someone.” Youngwoon mentioned casually as he entered his room, his earlier rage forgotten. “A friend?”
“Nah, just some weirdo.”
His coach raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off.
Then, by some bizarre impulse, Hyukjae told Youngwoon something he thought he’d never tell him until he’d reach his fifties at the least.
And he walked out; trying to somehow convince himself he hadn’t just quit his entire career because some stranger told him he didn’t like seeing him get hurt.
A stranger with beautiful brown eyes, mind you.
x x x
4.
He never gets caught, not even once.
Not that he does bad things often.
He may look like the ‘bad boy’ type of guy with his flaming red hair, piercing, and girls hanging off his arms, but he hadn’t broken as much school rules as he looked like he did. Sure, he’d snuck into the archives one time to find the answer key, and yeah, he smoked behind the gym near the trashcans from time to time but hey, it’s not like he got anyone pregnant.
He wasn’t a bad guy, he tells himself. He just had great sexual appeal and a peculiar taste for fashion-come to think of it, he should go get that tattoo with Kyuhyun this week, the bastard’s been delaying it for months.
Okay, so maybe he was a bit of a bad boy.
But didn’t bad boys, well, get into trouble? Suspension? Detention?
He’d never had those, no matter how well Jungsoo kept an eye on him like the suspicious condescending goody two-shoes he was known as. He just never got caught.
Hyukjae found it odd, to say the least. And a bit suspicious.
Then one day, he came across a student scrubbing the walls with a sponge and a bucket of water and Hyukjae remembered him as one of the guys he had Calculus with. He sat a few seats behind him and after a bit of recalling, he matched face with name.
Donghae was a year younger, a junior while Hyukjae was a senior graduating this year. He wasn’t part of the nerds or the jocks or the eccentric bunch of girls guys Kim Heechul spearheaded-he was just a normal guy with about a handful of friends who decided it was better to just blend in the background. So it came as a bit of a surprise to see him washing walls since he didn’t seem the type to get into trouble.
Curious, Hyukjae walked to Donghae, and after taking a closer look, he recognized exactly what the brunette was scrubbing off the walls.
“So you’re the one behind it.”
Donghae squeaked and spun around with his eyes wide. “Wh-what?”
“That.” Hyukjae pointed at the one-eyed monster on the wall, “I spray painted that myself this morning.”
“It’s not what you think!”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, slightly amused at how flustered Donghae was, “and what do I think?”
“That I’m violating your bad boy image and I should be punished and tossed to the ends of the earth like the filthy meddler I am?” Donghae tried.
Hyukjae laughed and asked him if he’s been doing this all these years and Donghae figured the cat’s already out of the bag so he nodded. Hyukjae laughed again and he was a bit hesitant at first, but Donghae smiled, and got carried away by the sound of Hyukjae’s laughter, so he said You should do that more often before he could stop himself.
The brunette braced himself for a punch in the face, but instead, Hyukjae spoke sincerely.
“Thanks, Donghae.”
That single moment made all the cleaning after school hours, driving people away from where he knew Hyukjae went out for a smoke, convincing the school nurse to make a letter of pardon for when Hyukjae skipped class those few times and standing guard outside the archives when he heard about Hyukjae sneaking in for answer keys, all worthwhile.
He knows my name.
Hyukjae graduated that year and though they never quite met up since, he knew he’d left some sort of impression.
And that was all he needed. Really.
x x x
5.
“God, Donghae. Don’t you have your own room?”
"Yes, but I like it here more. Don't you want to play with me?”
“No, I don’t want to play with you. Now move over, I’m tired and we still have schedules tomorrow.”
“We always have schedules.”
“Just move, you’re taking up the whole bed.”
…
“Wipe that grin off your face.”
“I’m not the one being all cuddly.”
“Shut up, or I’m kicking you out.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Yeah. I would. Then I wouldn’t have to see your annoying face everyday.”
“You cried when I left for M promotions.”
“Something got in my eye!”
“You cried again when all I ever did in china was film Skip Beat.”
“You cried too!”
“Just admit you la-la-like me~”
“Shut up. I’m tired.”
…
“I’m glad I get to see you all the time, Hyukjae.”
“What brought this on?”
“Just felt like saying it.”
“Weirdo.”
…
“I’m glad I get to see you too.”
“I know.” - ♦
. . . .
A/N: I don’t know what this is. I just had to get it off my chest. And how to pick EXO bias? I cannot, it seems impossible T^T
Rating: G
Pairing: Hyukjae/Donghae
Length: One Shot | 3,537
Summary: Even across worlds and across lives, he would.
x x x
1.
The weather had not been kind these past few months. The ground arid and cracking under the farmer’s boots, crops wilting within a week and wells slowly drying up. He knew the famine was taking a toll on his people; the rare silence that fell upon the usual rowdy bunch spoke volumes to him.
But whether it was fate or mere coincidence that made him ride into the town that day to check on and speak to them personally about what he could do to appease the situation (actually, he just wanted to escape Heechul and his sour mood because the heat was simply too much for him to take and it was affecting the entire castle)-Hyukjae wasn’t sure. Quite frankly, he didn’t have the capacity to think that through.
Because while he sat straight on his horse, his hands clutching the reigns as he scanned what was left of the once rich greenery of the farmlands, he caught sight of a head of very chocolate brown hair. The rays of the sun bounced off the tresses in a way that hypnotized Hyukjae, his eyes trailing down the strands as they curled around a smooth cheek and soon he found himself staring into even browner eyes.
Now, it wouldn’t have been too unusual if brown was a common color and everyone didn’t have roughly the same shade hair, but it wasn’t, and they did, because this was a country of the Sun. Everyone was blonde. Supposedly.
“Hey, you.” Hyukjae pulled his horse to a stop, much to her dismay. “Brown man.”
He looked offended.
“Excuse me?”
Hyukjae frowned, wondering if people out of his country had difficulty understanding speech.
He gestured to the color of his horse, “Brown.” He said slowly-for good measure-paused, then gestured to himself, “Man.”
Hyukjae watched his eye twitch.
“I understood you the first time. Now,” He walked up to Hyukjae, tilting his head up and pointing a finger to his face, “my skin may be slightly darker than yours but I am not brown.”
He exhaled loudly at the confusion on Hyukjae’s face.
“If you are referring to my hair, then I suggest you use the term brunette.”
“Brunette.”
“Rolls off the tongue well, no?”
“Brunette.” Hyukjae repeated, fascinated by the word.
“Uh, yeah.” The Brown Man raised an eyebrow at his dazed expression, “Knock yourself out.” He turned his back and walked off.
“Wait!” Hyukjae pulled his horse to follow him, going further from the farmlands. “Brown Man! I command you halt this instant! Brown Man!”
“Would you stop calling me that?!” Hyukjae had the pleasure of staring into his eyes again, watching them dance in irritation. “You make me sound like dung.”
“Then I request for the name by which you wish me to address you.”
The brunette-Hyukjae liked using that word now-murmured something under his breath and he had to strain to hear. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
He looked up, red tinting his cheeks and it was an odd sight but Hyukjae decided he quite liked it. “Donghae.”
“Donghae.” Hyukjae smiled brightly and Donghae had to look away before his blush spreads down to his neck-it’s annoying when he gets sensitive like that. He couldn’t help the smile that creep on his lips though; after all, it was the first time someone had asked for his name.
“Hm.” The blonde said thoughtfully, “Not too far off from dung, now is it?”
It happened all too fast but Hyukjae found himself splattered on the ground beneath his horse, the belt that kept his saddle in place now clutched in Donghae’s hand as he stomped away.
His clothes were soiled-Sungmin is going to throw a fit, he’s sure-, his horse was stomping her foot in amusement and what was left of his pride as Sun prince reduced to dust.
“How dare you, peasant-” Hyukjae scrambled to his feet rather ungracefully, never in his life had he been treated with such disrespect. But after two messy steps, Donghae suddenly turned around, flipped him the finger and left with a huff.
Hyukjae was dumbfounded.
And he’d never left his mind since.
The prince hoped to meet Donghae again (to ask him what the finger in the middle was supposed to mean, just that, really) so he rode into town every afternoon, hoping to see a familiar head of brown hair, but he never did.
Eventually, he was arranged to marry a princess from the West, and being the dutiful prince he was to his people, he agreed and it was the biggest wedding celebration in the country. She was beautiful, big eyes, long silky hair and was the perfect housewife any man would beg for.
But she never could make Hyukjae smile the way Donghae did.
Even if her hair was brown.
x x x
2.
The evening danced with lights and the clinking of glass as ladies clad in long luxurious gowns, gloves that reached their elbows and silky hair curling into their waists; men in long-tail coats and suede boots chattering in polite tones and somewhat forced enthusiasm.
Beady, intricate and colorful masks adorned their eyes as they danced, ate and complimented each other’s outfit. It was the grandest ball of the year, hosted by one of the two most powerful clans of the city. Everything from the long royal curtains to the giant glass chandelier hovering about the ballroom was prepared with utmost care.
Rose petals were scattered on the marble floor-famous emblem of the family hosting the event. The Masquerade Ball was open to the entire city save for anyone associated with the castle on the opposite end.
Hyukjae sighed as he walked out to the balcony, in need of some fresh night air after hours of forcing a smile and dancing with ladies whose perfume made him want to sneeze every other minute. He knew that he shouldn’t be out here, that this ball was very important to his dad and that he should go in and get acquainted with the guests like a good son should.
But he didn't like parties and standing up straight and this goddamn mask was so itchy-Hyukjae ripped it off in one go, only to have it topple over the edge and land with a soft thud on the grass below.
He could still see it down there, the beads glinting with the occasional light that went its way. He gulped.
Key had personally made and even sewed the beads on that mask for him weeks before the actual party because he was so excited, saying it was definitely going to suit his red hair-and if he lost it now, he wasn’t so sure he’d live to see sunrise.
Hyukjae looked around, already crossing out the option of going back in and out the front door once he heard Key’s boisterous laughter not too far from the entrance to the ballroom. He sighed, and figured climbing down was the only way. They were on the second floor and surely, it wasn’t too high.
“Hyung!”
“Oh, good.” Hyukjae turned around, “Sehun, cover for me, will ya.”
“Wh-what? Hyung, where’s your-ah! Careful!”
“I dropped something.” Hyukjae said casually with a wave of his hand as he disappeared under the balcony. He heard the door open, someone ask for where he was and Sehun’s panicked reply, but their voices easily got drowned out by the chatter and classical music.
It wasn’t long before his boot reached the soft grass of the castle garden. He knelt down, feeling around for the mask for a few minutes. He saw something glinting to his left and by some weird push of adrenaline, pounced on it.
But just as his fingers reached the plastic, he felt legs trip over his side, a person landing with an oof! on the grass beside him.
“Woah,” Hyukjae got to his feet, inwardly sighing in relief as he held the mask in his hand, “you alright there? Sorry about that.”
“Y-yeah.” The stranger groaned, ignoring the hand Hyukjae offered and stood on his feet. “I’m fine. Just…what were you doing lying on the ground like that?” Hyukjae heard the frown in his voice.
“I was…ah…” He wasn’t sure how to put it without embarrassing himself. “Well,” He cleared his throat, “what were you doing running around my garden?”
The man looked up at him in shock and for the first time, their eyes met. Hyukjae wasn’t sure but he swore he thought he saw recognition flicker across the stranger’s (quite stunning) eyes.
“Your garden?” He looked shocked. “So you’re…Hyukjae?”
Hyukjae frowned but nodded nonetheless. He thought the entire city would know his face by now.
“And you’re…” He tilted his head to get a closer look at the plastic bag he noticed the man clutching, “…carrying a fish around.”
“Ah! Well, yes, uhm I…” The brunette stared openly at him now, as if trying to memorize every detail of his face and it made Hyukjae feel odd. “…really like them. Fish…” he trailed off.
“I can see that.” A firework blast into the air, probably a trial run because the show was supposed to start in an hour, but it lit up the brunette face in a way that Hyukjae thought was unfair to all the women aspiring for beauty through make-up, and expensive clothes and countless trips to the hairdresser.
“Are you from around here or…?” Hyukjae cleared his throat again, “It’s just, I don’t think I’ve see-”
“Hyung! Are you done yet?” Sehun whimpered loudly from above, “I can’t do thith anymore! Pleath!”
Hyukjae sighed; Sehun wasn’t much of a liar and his lisp shows when he gets really stressed. He started to feel a bit guilty for leaving the kid alone up there.
“I’m actually in a bit of a hurry,” He glanced at him through the corner of his eye, “but you could come with-”
The brunette’s eyes widened, as if remembering his place, before spinning around. “No, no thank you. I’m in a hurry as well. My father’s sick, you see, and-”
“Hyung! He’th coming! Key’th coming!”
“You sound like you really should get going.” The brunette smiled a bit sheepishly, before taking a step back and bowing at him. “It was an honor.”
Hyukjae scratched the back of his head, “No need to bow.”
He looked up at him, smiled brightly, and ran off before Hyukjae could protest, the water in his plastic bag shining under the moonlight.
“Wait!”
But to no avail, he was too far off for Hyukjae to chase after him and Sehun was seriously starting to sound desperate up there, so he sighed and began his climb up the castle wall.
Once he threw his leg over and his foot on palace floor again, he swore he heard what sounded like the brunette’s voice shouting in the distance.
‘It was nice seeing you again!’
That night, his father introduced him to lines and lines of the finest women of the city. Needless to say, it was difficult to talk to them when all he could think of was grass and fireworks and fish.
He wished to see him again, ask for his name, maybe even give him a tour of the castle.
But, wishes don’t always come true.
And never again did the redhead meet that one person who made him feel…odd.
x x x
3.
The cheers and screams of the crowd around him were muffled by the adrenaline he felt slowly pumping through his veins in preparation for another of many fights. He jumped in place, shaking his legs and arms, and exercising his jaw, the mouthpiece slightly uncomfortable but Hyukjae knew it would be the last thing he’d dub ‘uncomfortable’ after what was going to happen.
His dark, cropped short hair exposed his jawline and it quickly became his signature trait as a boxer. Photographers always managed to catch his glistening jawline as he lands a punch or when he dodges a hit and Hyukjae’s not entirely sure if it’s a good thing or not to be remembered for his jaw and not his jab.
Nonetheless, he’s been on one hell of a streak these past few matches-bagging two knockouts against fighters who weren’t even on his weight level and his popularity just seemed to skyrocket.
Eunhyuk! Eunhyuk!
They chanted as he jogged up to the ring, the announcer shouting his name into the microphone. He took off his robe, shook hands with his opponent, and waited for the bell to ring.
It wasn’t that Hyukjae was a violent person; boxing was all he ever knew. Youngwoon taught him personally at a tender age of 7, and since then, he really couldn’t imagine himself as anything else when he grows up. Although the training makes it very good for self-defense in case of robbery or thugs, he doesn’t break out into a fight on the street just for laughs.
The boxing ring, on the other hand, is a whole different thing.
Hyukjae fought with precision and speed, taking time to learn how his opponent moves, his weaknesses, his blind spots. Then he strikes, his mind set and muscles burning. He’d be in a whole different world and no one could reach him.
So it came as a shock when he found himself distracted during the fight instead of being in his usual trance with nothing but his gloves, opponent and the sound of the bell. He just couldn’t help but look back at that corner outside the ring, a pair of doe eyes watching his every move with awe and a spark of something else.
They were a deep brown, wide and beautiful and-he dodged an uppercut, shuffling to the left to get a better view-Hyukjae felt he could stare at them forever.
Youngwoon slapped him lightly on the cheeks, hissing at him to get a grip, because he actually lost that round.
And get a grip, he did.
Hyukjae shook himself out of his reverie; fought with a force the audience hadn’t seen on him before and got himself his third knockout in a row-all with a single goal in mind.
The crowd went wild and the reporters stumbling to get first dibs with an interview from the famous Eunhyuk, but Hyukjae could care less as he waved them off with a polite smile, saying very shortly how grateful and happy he was, before stalking off into his dressing room to put on some real clothes.
He heard Youngwoon shouting at him from behind, angry for leaving him alone with the reporters and ‘where the hell do you think you’re going, you have a bruise on your cheek, get back here!’, or something along those lines.
And Hyukjae did consider going back because he was in pain and really, what were his chances of finding one person in a place this big? But then he rounded the corner and found himself staring into those eyes again and all thoughts just flew out the window.
He should’ve been angry, really, or at least offended by the lack of respect for his personal space, but Hyukjae couldn’t find it in himself to protest as the stranger flings his arms around his neck and whispers into his ear. His breath was warm against his ear, and his hair tickled the side of his neck. Dumbstruck, the boxer could do nothing but gulp as the man released him, stepped back and smiled before running off.
He walked back to his dressing room in a daze, trying to figure out what in the world just happened and if that was considered sexual harassment from a stranger. Or had they met before? Brown Eyes seemed to have known him already.
Hyukjae racked his brain for any sort of memory of him but came up with nothing. Besides, he may have a bit of a bad memory but if he’d seen eyes those beautiful before, he knew he’d have the decency to remember it.
“Taeyeon told me she saw you with someone.” Youngwoon mentioned casually as he entered his room, his earlier rage forgotten. “A friend?”
“Nah, just some weirdo.”
His coach raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off.
Then, by some bizarre impulse, Hyukjae told Youngwoon something he thought he’d never tell him until he’d reach his fifties at the least.
And he walked out; trying to somehow convince himself he hadn’t just quit his entire career because some stranger told him he didn’t like seeing him get hurt.
A stranger with beautiful brown eyes, mind you.
x x x
4.
He never gets caught, not even once.
Not that he does bad things often.
He may look like the ‘bad boy’ type of guy with his flaming red hair, piercing, and girls hanging off his arms, but he hadn’t broken as much school rules as he looked like he did. Sure, he’d snuck into the archives one time to find the answer key, and yeah, he smoked behind the gym near the trashcans from time to time but hey, it’s not like he got anyone pregnant.
He wasn’t a bad guy, he tells himself. He just had great sexual appeal and a peculiar taste for fashion-come to think of it, he should go get that tattoo with Kyuhyun this week, the bastard’s been delaying it for months.
Okay, so maybe he was a bit of a bad boy.
But didn’t bad boys, well, get into trouble? Suspension? Detention?
He’d never had those, no matter how well Jungsoo kept an eye on him like the suspicious condescending goody two-shoes he was known as. He just never got caught.
Hyukjae found it odd, to say the least. And a bit suspicious.
Then one day, he came across a student scrubbing the walls with a sponge and a bucket of water and Hyukjae remembered him as one of the guys he had Calculus with. He sat a few seats behind him and after a bit of recalling, he matched face with name.
Donghae was a year younger, a junior while Hyukjae was a senior graduating this year. He wasn’t part of the nerds or the jocks or the eccentric bunch of girls guys Kim Heechul spearheaded-he was just a normal guy with about a handful of friends who decided it was better to just blend in the background. So it came as a bit of a surprise to see him washing walls since he didn’t seem the type to get into trouble.
Curious, Hyukjae walked to Donghae, and after taking a closer look, he recognized exactly what the brunette was scrubbing off the walls.
“So you’re the one behind it.”
Donghae squeaked and spun around with his eyes wide. “Wh-what?”
“That.” Hyukjae pointed at the one-eyed monster on the wall, “I spray painted that myself this morning.”
“It’s not what you think!”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, slightly amused at how flustered Donghae was, “and what do I think?”
“That I’m violating your bad boy image and I should be punished and tossed to the ends of the earth like the filthy meddler I am?” Donghae tried.
Hyukjae laughed and asked him if he’s been doing this all these years and Donghae figured the cat’s already out of the bag so he nodded. Hyukjae laughed again and he was a bit hesitant at first, but Donghae smiled, and got carried away by the sound of Hyukjae’s laughter, so he said You should do that more often before he could stop himself.
The brunette braced himself for a punch in the face, but instead, Hyukjae spoke sincerely.
“Thanks, Donghae.”
That single moment made all the cleaning after school hours, driving people away from where he knew Hyukjae went out for a smoke, convincing the school nurse to make a letter of pardon for when Hyukjae skipped class those few times and standing guard outside the archives when he heard about Hyukjae sneaking in for answer keys, all worthwhile.
He knows my name.
Hyukjae graduated that year and though they never quite met up since, he knew he’d left some sort of impression.
And that was all he needed. Really.
x x x
5.
“God, Donghae. Don’t you have your own room?”
"Yes, but I like it here more. Don't you want to play with me?”
“No, I don’t want to play with you. Now move over, I’m tired and we still have schedules tomorrow.”
“We always have schedules.”
“Just move, you’re taking up the whole bed.”
…
“Wipe that grin off your face.”
“I’m not the one being all cuddly.”
“Shut up, or I’m kicking you out.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Yeah. I would. Then I wouldn’t have to see your annoying face everyday.”
“You cried when I left for M promotions.”
“Something got in my eye!”
“You cried again when all I ever did in china was film Skip Beat.”
“You cried too!”
“Just admit you la-la-like me~”
“Shut up. I’m tired.”
…
“I’m glad I get to see you all the time, Hyukjae.”
“What brought this on?”
“Just felt like saying it.”
“Weirdo.”
…
“I’m glad I get to see you too.”
“I know.” - ♦
. . . .
A/N: I don’t know what this is. I just had to get it off my chest. And how to pick EXO bias? I cannot, it seems impossible T^T