Suits (1/3)
Title: Suits
Pairing: Xiuhan, platonic!Xiuhun/Hunhan
Genre: bodyguard!au
Rating: PG-13
Length: 20,330 words (threeshot)
Summary: Minseok is the longtime protector and voice of reason to a young prince. When Luhan is brought in for backup, Minseok is torn between resentment and fascination.
Notes: In which Korea has a royal family. Very loosely inspired by the lyrics to Raleigh Ritchie's "Bloodsport". No one is shot.
The prince is only fifteen, and nursing a broken heart, when Minseok first comes to the palace.
"Your Highness," the royal secretary says outside the door of the teenager's study. "Your new bodyguard is here."
There is no direct reply, but Minseok can hear murmurs from within the room. The royal secretary bows and opens the door for him, hand held out to signal that he may enter. Minseok slides in noiselessly, the way he has been trained to do at the academy for the past four years.
Inside, it's dark, and the prince is standing over his desk with his back to the bodyguard. In both hands, he clutches the glossy receiver of an antique telephone, and he speaks into it in a quiet, urgent tone.
"It wasn't us," the prince is saying. "You know that, don't you? Good...yes, I trust you, too." His voice shakes. "Don't forget me, Aki."
Minseok registers the foreign name and infers that the person on the other line is the Japanese ambassador's daughter. The papers paint her as a delicate girl with bright eyes, seen regularly in the company of Prince Sehun, the second in line to Korea's throne. The papers also tell of the volatile territory disputes between Korea and Japan, which have spurred public dissent and countless demonstrations in front of the palace.
Yesterday's front page story had to do with two bomb threats. The first was at the Japanese embassy in Seoul. The second was at the Japanese ambassador's private residence. His wife was out, but his pretty fourteen-year-old, Aki, was not. She, the housekeeper, and the family's two pet beagles were evacuated by the police.
If the terrorists who set up the whole thing simply wanted to send a message, they succeeded. Today's news reveals that the Japanese ambassador and his entire family (beagles included) are flying back to Tokyo.
The prince stammers into the receiver, "Will...will we ever see each other again?"
Even on home ground, the King and Queen fear for their safety and that of their sons Joonmyun and Sehun, should there be retaliation from angry Japanese residents. Minseok got the call last night--the one telling him he is part of the team of elite security the palace is bringing in to bulk up the royal guard.
It's a tall order, but Minseok is ready. He graduated a year ago at the top of his class, gaining experience in the months since as short-term security for various high-ranking officials. He is strong, fearless, and intuitive. He might not be as imposing as your average bodyguard, but he considers the medium height and baby face his natural camouflage.
He is also twenty-three, just eight years older than Sehun. He suspects that's why he has been paired with the teenager, and not with Crown Prince Joonmyun, who is only a year younger than Minseok.
The prince mumbles, "I like you, Aki."
Minseok feels sorry for him, sorry for the premature heartache the boy has to go through because of political ties that bind and then break.
"Will you wait for me?" Sehun asks. His voice grows adamant. "I'll come for you when I grow up, I promise. Just wait for me?"
The answer seems to be an agreeable one, because the prince looks relieved. "Okay," he murmurs. "Okay." But the interlude is short-lived, because in the next moment his expression turns stricken. "What? No, don't--as in, right now?" His voice grows desperate around the edges, and in a panic, he says again, "Don't forget me!"
A few seconds of silence tick past, and Minseok can't really tell what's going on, what the girl might be saying over the line. Finally, Sehun very quietly says, "Goodbye, Aki-chan," and hangs up the phone.
That's when he turns around and finds Minseok standing impassively at the door, not having moved an inch since shutting it behind him.
"Who are you?" the prince asks dully.
"Kim Minseok, Your Highness." Minseok bends in a low, respectful bow. "I'm your new bodyguard. At your service."
"Have you been there the whole time?" There is no bite to Sehun's words, only a quiver in his bottom lip.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"So you heard the whole thing."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"I should get used to this, huh?" Sehun looks down at his feet. "Never being alone."
Minseok bows again, apologetic. "I'm sorry, Your Highness."
"She had to go," Sehun tells him out of nowhere. When the young boy looks up at Minseok, his eyes are shiny and wet. "She had to board her plane."
Minseok keeps mum, unsure of how to respond.
"She's important to me. Aki." Sehun swallows hard. "I'm--I feel awful. You might see me crying." He clears his throat, draws himself up. "But I never cry otherwise, just so you know. This is, this is a one-time thing."
"That's quite all right, Your Highness," Minseok says swiftly, using the gentlest voice in his repertoire. "I won't let anybody in." On instinct, he adds, "I am sure you are just as important...to Aki."
The prince almost smiles at him, the corner of his mouth quirking imperceptibly. Then his back is to Minseok once again. He sinks into his swivel chair, places his arms on his desk and burrows his face into his arms, and Minseok knows he's hiding his tears.
In response, the bodyguard squares his shoulders, crosses his hands in front of him, and plants his feet a little more firmly into the ground. Protective, but at ease. For who knows how long, Minseok stands guard by the door, a pillar of comfort in his pressed black suit. He lets no one else see the prince in mourning.
If young Sehun grows up a little wild, it's only because his older brother is being the quintessential prince in comparison.
Less than a year after Minseok joins the royal staff, Joonmyun graduates summa cum laude, with a double major in economics and history. When he walks onstage at his solemn commencement ceremony, Sehun shoots up from his seat in the front row to wallop and whistle. The King and the Crown Prince grin indulgently as the Queen sighs in resignation.
Every day, as Joonmyun sifts through the nitty gritty of his responsibilities, Sehun will peek into his study and pull faces until Joonmyun spots him through the cluster of advisors in the room. The young prince will wave his sporting equipment of choice through the crack in the door--soccer ball, riding crop--and gesture for Joonmyun to follow him. His brother only smiles, sticks out his tongue when nobody's looking, and goes back to the pile of paperwork on his desk.
Sehun never misses an opportunity to spar with Joonmyun's bodyguard, Chanyeol, who is a master of martial arts. Even when Chanyeol is on duty. Especially when Chanyeol is on duty.
"Your Highness," Minseok will murmur when the playfighting runs long and Chanyeol starts to look a little worn. "That's enough for today."
To his credit, Sehun has grown to heed what his bodyguard says.
Even when Minseok tells him it isn't a good idea to sneak off to that underground dance party Sehun's been eying on the Internet (too shady).
Even when Minseok tells him to stay cool after a drunken foreigner insults the hallowed name of Sehun's favorite football team, and Sehun's fists twitch at his sides (not worth it).
Even when Minseok tells him it might be time to head home from one of his cousin's scandalous soirees--the ones that lay out the refreshments on naked models and end up in a game of strip Twister (too many cameras to confiscate). Prince Jongin will tease him for being a pushover later on, but still, Sehun will obey.
For all his mischief, the prince is a good kid. He calls Minseok "hyung," not "Kim," and is always asking Minseok to call him Sehun, not Your Highness. Minseok appreciates the gesture, but finds this foray into first-name basis too fresh for his liking. Whenever he declines, Sehun sulks. To appease him, Minseok makes an effort to speak to his charge in a friendly, familiar tone--not the official, trained timbre he uses with the other members of the royal family.
They share a deep trust. Neither Sehun nor Minseok are particularly forthcoming about private matters, but Minseok understands the youth much more than he lets on. He knows, for instance, that for no particular reason, the prince will sometimes withdraw into himself, preferring not to see or speak to anyone. Minseok pretends to leave on an errand, saying he'll be back shortly--but he just stations himself right outside the door and gives Sehun a full hour alone. When he slides back into the room, Sehun will grin and ask, "Where've you been, hyung?"
Minseok also knows that Sehun would rather be an explorer than a prince; that he pretends not to care about school but spends the quiet hours before bed poring over geography books, memorizing the capital cities of every country on the planet. Minseok has seen the boot-shaped birthmark on Sehun's arm countless times, the prince holding it out proudly to declare, "Look, hyung. Italy."
At the academy, they are taught discipline, respect, precision, and loyalty. They are not taught fondness, the kind of emotion Minseok has only ever associated with his little sister. But he is fond of his charge, very much so, and Sehun idolizes him in turn. In fact, when Joonmyun jokingly asks the royal maknae whom he likes better, his own hyung or Minseok, Sehun will pick at his fingernails and mutter, "You're equal."
The day Minseok comes down with swine flu is the day Luhan comes to the palace.
It's been five years since Minseok accepted his royal post. Sehun is almost fully grown at twenty. The bodyguard used to have three inches on the prince--now, Sehun's got two on him.
In all their time together, Minseok has never fallen this ill.
The King and Queen have him admitted to the royal hospital, despite Minseok's feeble protests to take him to any of the civilian establishments. He has an alarming fever and a hacking cough. The doctors are forced to quarantine him. No one is allowed to visit, not even Prince Sehun (who kicks up a huge fuss about it, unbeknownst to his bodyguard).
Minseok's superior at the agency tells him they've got the prince covered. "We're sending one of our Chinese guys as your substitute. Lots of experience. Spotless record. Don't worry, Kim."
Minseok certainly hopes so, because Sehun is scheduled to appear at a parade today. The political turmoil between Japan and Korea has simmered to a low boil over the years, so that's not why Minseok is frustrated with himself for getting sick. There's a new threat now, an internal one: the morbidly-obsessed fan.
Since Sehun turned eighteen, the media has felt legally entitled to a piece of him, and the prince has racked up an enormous following in Asia.
It wasn't so bad when Joonmyun was his age (although he was very popular). But Sehun's generation is different. It's been fed on celebrity worship and social media since infancy, and never quite understood how certain things, like privacy, could be beyond its reach. The prince is dashing and exciting, just like an idol, making him an easy target of infatuation. "Royal bad boy," the press calls him, releasing photos of Sehun smoking in front of a club and keeping company with Seoul's most infamous rich kids (cousin Jongin included). "Punk rock prince," they dub him, when Sehun dyes his hair bleach-blond and gets both ears pierced, much to the chagrin of the Queen (the King tells his son in private that he thinks it's pretty cool).
When Sehun is spotted around the city, the nicer fans might scream and whip out their phones, but the crazy ones give relentless chase and touch, touch, touch.
This is unacceptable to Minseok. He rarely loses his cool, because he's good at his job, and he can get between a senseless sasaeng and the young prince in two shakes. But parades stress him out--the crush of people can't be monitored as stringently as he would like. At any time, an exuberant crowd could easily turn into a dangerous mob.
So when Sehun calls him after the event and ribs, "Hey, hyung, I'm alive!" Minseok doesn't know if he's joking.
"What happened?" Minseok asks.
"Nothing. I waved. They screamed," Sehun replies. "Your sub is pretty awesome. I like him."
Minseok coughs aggressively into his palm.
"Will you be okay, hyung?" Sehun's voice is less jovial now. "They won't let me come--"
"Good," Minseok interrupts, clearing something nasty from his throat. "I'm contagious." He remembers how anxious the prince gets over separations, and adds, "I'll return shortly, Your Highness. I'm sorry for not being there today."
"Just rest, hyung," Sehun says, gentle but authoritative. "The new guy's got me until you come back."
Nine days later, Minseok is released from the hospital, and he meets Luhan for the first time.
"Morning," says the Chinese bodyguard, extending a hand and a warm look. Minseok has just joined him outside the everyday dining hall, where the royal family is having breakfast. Like the rest of palace security, they wear identical black suits. "You must be Minseok."
"Call me Kim," Minseok replies tersely, shaking his hand. The new guy's familiarity is a little off-putting.
"Call me Luhan," the other says, grinning.
"Your surname?" Minseok asks. "I prefer to stick to protocol."
Luhan's grin falters. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's Lu. Last name Lu, first name Han. But in Korea everyone just calls me Luhan. Even the King and Queen." The bodyguard looks hopeful. "You can, too, if you like."
Minseok considers it for a moment, before begrudgingly giving his reply. "All right. I hear we're the same age?"
Luhan nods. "Just turned twenty-eight." His smooth face accommodates a pleasant smile.
Another pretty boy, Minseok observes. Just like Sehun and the Crown Prince. True enough, Luhan is of doe eyes, peachy skin, and soft, floppy hair; he's probably as tall as their charge, and his appearance is nothing like a bodyguard's.
"I don't know how long you're going to be with us," Minseok says abruptly. "But girlfriends aren't allowed to visit the palace, in case you haven't been told."
Luhan smirks. "And boyfriends?"
That gives Minseok pause for a split second. "No boyfriends allowed, either."
"What happens if you sneak them in?" Luhan's expression is playful and conspiratorial, so Minseok can't tell if he's kidding. "Have you ever tried?"
"Of course not," Minseok shoots back. Strangely enough, talking to the new guy is almost like talking to Sehun. "I always stick--"
"--to protocol. Gotcha," Luhan cuts in amiably. "No boyfriend right now, and even if I did, I'd follow the rules." He eyes Minseok curiously. "And you?"
"What about me?"
"Any girlfriend? Boyfriend?" Luhan grins at him again, totally at home in the conversation.
Minseok, on the other hand, is annoyed.
"That's none of your business," he warns, the words coming out sterner than he had intended.
The substitute stiffens, realizing he's overstepped the bounds. He dips his head in apology. "Sorry," he murmurs. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Sehun pops his head out the door at that moment, so Minseok doesn't have a chance to address the tiny poke of guilt in his chest.
"Hyung, you're back!" the prince cries enthusiastically. He slings his arm across Minseok's shoulders. "All better now?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Minseok says, considerably less icy. "Thank you for checking up on me every day."
The prince shoots him a pointed look, and Minseok knows he doesn't like being thanked for something so natural.
Sehun turns to their other companion. "Guess what, Luhan-hyung?" His eyes are sparkling. "My mother and father want you with us full-time."
There are three major things Minseok dislikes about his new partner.
The first thing is that he talks too much. By the end of the week, Minseok knows the guy's birthday, the names of his parents, the four cities he grew up in (and therefore, the four languages he speaks), his favorite films and television shows, the last album he downloaded into his iPod, how he takes his coffee--not to mention, why Manchester United is the greatest football team in the universe.
Following this deluge of information, Minseok tells Luhan to minimize the chatter and focus on the job.
"Just making conversation," Luhan says, cheerful and unreadable.
The second thing Minseok dislikes is that Luhan seems to copy everything he does. By the end of a fortnight, Luhan has taken to brushing his hair back from his forehead, neat and sharp, just like Minseok's. Luhan's hands fly to his tie whenever Minseok moves to adjust his own. Luhan's also missing both small black studs he was wearing on their first meeting.
"What happened to your earrings?" Minseok asks in spite of himself.
"You weren't wearing any," Luhan explains, "so I took mine out." He doesn't look at Minseok when he murmurs, "You did say to follow protocol."
When Minseok informs him it's more of a personal preference than an actual regulation, Luhan only shrugs.
The third and most offensive thing is how good Luhan is with Sehun. He knows it's childish, that it's a pro, not a con, but Minseok completely resents him for it, anyway.
One time, Sehun drags them out to an all-night fete with cousin Jongin and Co. Minseok sidles up to the prince at around 2:00AM and suggests, in sotto voce, that it's time they got going.
"Just one more hour," Sehun says out of the side of his mouth. Jongin is already smirking at him from across the poker table.
"You've got an early day tomorrow," Minseok murmurs.
Sehun really doesn't want to go home yet. "Please, hyung?"
"Don't forget, Your Highness," Luhan chimes in out of nowhere, "it's World Geography you've got at 7:00."
Sehun opens his mouth, closes it, and pushes back his seat. "Gotta go, boys," he tells his privileged posse. "It's been fun."
"Works every time," Luhan mutters, tossing Minseok a knowing glance.
Without making eye contact, Minseok mutters back, "I had it handled."
Luhan is surprised by his coldness. "I was only trying to help, Kim," he says in earnest, but Minseok is already striding past him to catch up with the prince.
Another time, in the palace, Minseok returns from a bathroom break and finds Luhan teaching Sehun how to swear in English.
"What's this?" Minseok asks, just as Sehun tries out a confident "Motherfucker!"
Unlike Luhan, Minseok does not speak Mandarin and Japanese in addition to Korean. He does, however, have a perfect grasp of the English language.
Sehun turns to him proudly, like a kid who's just learned to ride a bike. "Hey, hyung, do you know what 'motherfucker' means?" Half of Sehun's face pulls up in a mischievous grin. "It means--"
"Yes, I know, Your Highness," Minseok says placidly. "But you've still got those Agricultural Development readings to finish."
Luhan winces--a tiny narrowing of the eyes, like an unresolved blink.
Sehun blows out his lips. "But they're so boring! And Luhan-hyung said I could take a break." Minseok regards him meaningfully, and the way the prince takes up his textbook and yellow highlighting pen is nothing less than begrudging. "You're no fun."
He's just pouting, the way he usually does when Minseok succeeds in getting him to do something he'd rather not. It's innocent, really.
But when Sehun tells him he isn't fun, it's a fist in Minseok's gut. The soft, creeping texture of fear grazes his skin, cool in its touch. It's a fear that the prince might actually outgrow him someday, and a fear he's never had until now.
Irrational--that's the only word for it. Minseok is frustrated with himself, because he has always used reason as a compass. Lately, however, he's been letting his insecurities best his judgment--and yes, he admits, blaming it all on Luhan. Because if Luhan is anything, he's the cooler, more spontaneous, and in some ways, more capable hyung between the pair of them.
And that's a fact.
A few minutes later, as Sehun pores over his readings, Minseok finds Luhan close to his side. "I know, I know," the new guy says under his breath, eyes downcast. "I shouldn't have distracted him. I should focus on the job. You don't have to scowl at me."
"I'm not--" Minseok starts, but he stops when he hears the dismal chuckle.
"Yeah, actually, you are." Luhan mutters. Sehun cocks a glance over his shoulder, and Luhan grits out the rest through a smile. "As usual."
This bothers Minseok, who has always been polite and gracious--not to mention, fair. But his dislike for his partner is too strong, cloying, like a bad taste in his mouth. So he doesn't apologize, even though he knows he should.
What it all boils down to is this: what took Minseok five years to carefully hone between him and his charge, Luhan has made laughably quick work of. It is, in Minseok's eyes, not an intrusion, but a takeover.
And that is something Minseok can't help but hold against him.
If there's one thing Minseok likes about Luhan--and he's not yet decided if this counts--it's that the latter knows nothing of Sehun's first love.
The prince doesn't speak about Aki, not to Jongin or his parents or Minseok. But the bodyguard knows he keeps tabs on her. Every few months, Crown Prince Joonmyun will tell his little brother to check his email, and Minseok never misses the look of confidentiality that passes between them.
Later, he will find Sehun staring at his computer screen, mouthing the unfamiliar syllables of a foreign address.
Once, as Sehun dawdles over his schoolwork for the nth time, he asks Minseok a question.
"Hyung?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Do you think Aki would like me if she knew me now?"
Minseok humors him. "Why wouldn't she?"
The prince furrows his brow. "I'm different from before."
"How so?"
"You know, hyung." Sehun twists up his mouth, a little impatiently. "I'm not...nice. Not sweet."
"You're just a little rebellious, like all boys your age. That doesn't make you a bad person."
Sehun bites his lip. "Really?"
Minseok chuckles. "You're a very sweet kid." The intimacy of it makes him clear his throat. "If you don't mind me saying so, Your Highness."
Sehun beams like he's fifteen years old again. He declares, "You're the best, hyung," and Minseok feels the skin of their old camaraderie slipping over him, warm and close.
Luhan waits until Sehun has gone back to crunching numbers before side-eying Minseok. Slowly. Carefully. Curiously.
"Spit it out," Minseok grunts without meeting his partner's eye.
Luhan smiles, so openly pleased at the small attention, Minseok can actually feel the movement.
It must be said that no matter how many times he speaks to Luhan with frost in his tone or completely freezes him out, the Chinese bodyguard simply dusts himself off and tries again. Minseok hasn't decided if Luhan is overcompensating, or if he's just stupidly good-natured.
"Who's Aki?" Luhan whispers.
It's like the sound of a harp in Minseok's ear.
"The prince hasn't told you about Aki?" he asks, fighting to keep childish hope from coating his voice.
Luhan shakes his head.
Minseok's chest swells with pride.
It's in a show of good will towards Sehun that Minseok uncharacteristically takes the time to explain. "She's a girl the prince used to know," he murmurs. Luhan nods, eyes alert. "Boyhood love."
Luhan mouths an ahh in understanding. That is followed, almost bashfully, by a "Thanks."
"I thought he would have told you by now," Minseok admits.
"He doesn't talk to me about things like that," Luhan tells him. "Just you." Then he's saying something in an even lower tone, and Minseok thinks he hasn't heard him right when the words trickle into his ears. "Because you're special."
He snaps his head to the side. He squints at Luhan really hard. "Pardon?" he tosses out for good measure.
But Luhan only gives him a quick, innocent shake of the head and licks the dryness off his lips. Minseok can't get another sidelong glance out of him for the rest of the day.
The marriage talks begin the day after Sehun's twenty-first birthday.
"Darling," the Queen ventures at the breakfast table. "How do you feel about Lady Suzy?"
"Bae?" Sehun clarifies through a mouthful of poached eggs. "She's cool."
"You shouldn't call her Bae, son," the King murmurs behind his paper. "She's nobility."
"But Bae's my buddy."
"And she's beautiful," the Queen gushes. "How about we get you two engaged?"
Sehun chokes violently on his food, but holds up a hand when both Minseok and Luhan step in from outside the door.
"I'm fine." The prince wipes his mouth on a table napkin. "And I'm not getting married," he directs at the Queen. "I'm still in school!"
"So?" the Queen trills. "You're twenty-one. Royals have always wed early. Now!" She taps her chin with an elegant fingertip. "If not little Suzy, then how about General Lee's daughter? Ha Yi, isn't it?"
"Who's...do you mean Lee Hi?" Sehun laughs raucously. "She's seventeen. You're basically turning me into a public offender."
The Queen's mouth purses. "Oh, dear, you're right." Her fingertip rests against her lips. "And the Prime Minister's girl? Seohyun? I know she's a little older than you but three years is nothing, really--you might as well be the same age. And the royal secretary tells me she comes to see you ride at the club..."
"Actually," Sehun drawls, "she comes to see Luhan-hyung. Jongin reckons it's a pretty lethal crush." He snorts. "She won't give him the time of day."
"Is that so?" the Queen sighs, shooting a glance at the door. The sound of two throats clearing filters into the dining hall.
"Yep," Sehun triumphs. "So let's drop this."
The Queen clucks disapprovingly. "But it really is time you started considering marriage. Or at the very least, a serious relationship." Her expression turns honey-sweet. "You're so handsome, darling, and you've never even been kissed!"
"Mom." Sehun's tone is a warning.
"She's right, son," the King puts in, fluffing out his paper and folding it down into a neat square. "Your mother and I have decided to start looking for a suitable match. We were just letting you know."
"Dad!" Sehun whines.
"I don't see what the big fuss is about," the King rumbles pleasantly. He rises from his chair, tops off his tea, and pecks the Queen on the forehead. "Your brother got married last year. Look how happy he is."
"But he and Jung were together for years," Sehun disputes. "It's totally different from marrying someone you were set up with."
"So make sure to get to know your someone before you get married," the King replies, a tease curling in his voice. "And stop calling your sister-in-law Jung. What does your generation have against calling ladies by their names?"
"Such a pretty name, too," the Queen muses, picking at a strawberry tart. "Jessica."
"If you don't want us to set you up," the King adds, "you could very well make the choice yourself." He smiles at the consternation on his son's face, and his own creases with fine lines of wisdom. "No one's stopping you from finding love, Sehun."
The prince gets it into his head to run away to Japan only two days later. Of course, the first people he tells are Minseok and Luhan.
"Just for a few months," Sehun says easily, like he's talking about sleeping over at a friend's. "Six, maybe seven. A year, tops."
"Absolutely not," Minseok replies. "Absolutely not."
"No, really, hyung," Sehun pushes. "It'll be great."
"Your Highness, you can't just relocate to another country to avoid going on marriage dates."
"Who says I'm avoiding them?" Sehun twinkles, and Minseok knows exactly what's going on.
"Aki?" is the only thing he has to ask, and Sehun's face is breaking into a smile like daylight.
Minseok knows he has to be very, very gentle.
"I know you want to see her, Your Highness," he begins. "And that's understandable, and admirable. I get it, really, I do."
"Why do I feel like you're still saying no to me," Sehun mutters, smile chipping.
"You still have your last year of college to finish, and the semester starts very soon." Minseok is lecturing, but trying not to sound like it. "And you know the last year is the busiest. Besides the academic load, you'll start basic training for your royal duties, just like the Crown Prince did. Not as much paperwork, of course, but there's still a lot to learn."
"I don't care about all that," Sehun says petulantly. "You know I've never wanted the princely life."
"I know, Your Highness," Minseok tells him softly. "But that's the only one you've got."
"Hyung, just listen to me, okay?" Sehun's brows knit together, and his eyes look dangerously similar to the time when Minseok first met him. Lonely. "I told her I'd come find her when I grew up. And I'm all grown up now, like the Queen said. So I'm gonna go find her."
"Your Highness--"
"And you and Luhan-hyung can come with me. I really want you to," Sehun continues. "But you can't stop me." His eyes hold Minseok's in a soft entreaty. "So don't. Please?"
Minseok presses his lips together. This is going to be harder than he thought.
"You know, Your Highness," Luhan says quietly from where he has been standing, a little apart from them. "You could just ask your parents for permission."
Sehun blinks.
Minseok would resent Luhan right now if he wasn't a little embarrassed about not coming up with the obvious solution.
Of course, the King says yes--to Sehun's trip as a whole, not necessarily to the duration of it. That will be decided by his mother.
"Attaboy," he says, when Sehun shyly mentions Aki. "Go get her." And in a softer tone, "Tell her father that his old friend misses him."
The Queen is more practical. She is the fine sieve through which Sehun's plans much pass, grain by grain. The details of his spur-of-the-moment sojourn are turned over and over in her deft hands until they are worn.
"So, you're going to Kyoto?"
"Yup."
"Where will you be staying?"
"At this ryokan. Yes, it's safe--it's in a residential neighborhood. And see, it's got five stars on TripAdvisor."
"You'll be taking Kim and Luhan with you, of course."
"Naturally."
"And when will you see Aki?"
"I don't know...when it's convenient for her."
"She's still in college?"
"Yes."
"You shouldn't go see her on campus, you know. You don't want those fanatics of yours after her."
"I know."
"And she's apprenticing as a tea ceremony master, you said?"
"Yes, she is."
"And you'll be visiting the teahouse?"
"Yeah, I mean, I'm not--if she--as long as that's okay. That's the plan."
"I see. And Kim and Luhan will chaperone at all times."
"Well, not at all times..."
"That's not a question."
"...Fine."
Eventually, the Queen agrees on the condition that Sehun will be back to resume his schooling in three months.
"Three! How about four?" he bargains.
"Three, young man. No later," she says in a disciplinarian's voice.
"All right," Sehun answers good-naturedly.
The voice gentles. "Good luck, darling."
Outside the door, where they are pretending not to listen, Minseok and Luhan snigger at the same thing.
"'Darling' when she wants something," Minseok begins.
"'Young man' when he wants something," Luhan concludes.
They exchange boyish grins.
Minseok is the first to notice what's happening. Luhan is either oblivious or content; his mouth and the corners of his eyes tipping in the same direction--up.
When Minseok shrinks back, frowns, and turns away, he doesn't notice how quickly his partner's face falls.
They arrive in Kyoto in February, on a brisk winter's day. The skyline is a whir of muted blue-gray-white outside the window of their first-class express train from Kansai Airport. Minseok soaks it all in, and he doesn't notice how he's already pressing his fingers up against the glass.
The ryokan is incredible--serene and elegant and proud, with winged tile roofs and bamboo-framed paper walls that whisper when touched. There's an expanse of garden around it that Minseok can only imagine is as green as an emerald in the proper season. It's as much of a treasure inside, ancient tradition and modern amenities blending seamlessly to make a second home.
Minseok already thought it was a good idea to book the entire place (for the prince's safety and privacy), but now, he's even more thankful they have the ryokan to themselves. The staff is so discreet, they seem to spirit away immediately following check-in.
Of course, as soon as Minseok, Luhan, and Sehun have been escorted to their own rooms with their luggage, the prince wastes no time.
"Let's go see Aki," he says.
He's already gone incognito, his face half-hidden underneath a black skull mask and a snapback covering most of his blonde hair. He has the address of Aki's teahouse saved everywhere--on his laptop, his mobile phone. He reaches into the pocket inside his coat, and he's got it in there, too. This one's been handwritten on a map, and it comes with a plotted-out route from the hotel to the teahouse.
"All right, Your Highness," Minseok says, shrugging on the same thick black duffle coat he'd only just hung up. Underneath it, he's dressed not in a suit, but in casual clothes, so as not to attract attention. He hears the snow falling softly outside, and he bundles himself up with extra care.
If there's one enemy Minseok has never quite learned to vanquish, it's the cold.
Luhan's waiting for them downstairs. He's in dark jeans and black boots, with a plaid muffler wrapped around his neck. His coat is navy, and that is the only thing that differentiates it from Minseok's.
Minseok is already too cold to care.
They walk to the closest subway station, and Minseok has to grit his teeth to keep them from chattering.
They speed through the station, buy tickets, and hop into their train. Minseok blows hot into his palms and rubs them together.
They file out several stops later, and Sehun realizes it would have been better to take the bus directly. The station is a five-block walk from Aki's teahouse.
"Where's the closest bus stop?" Luhan asks, peering into the map.
"It's...six...blocks away?" Sehun's smile shapes itself into an awkward square. "This is sort of a traffic-protected area."
"We should start walking, then," Minseok pipes up, never a complainer. "You don't want to miss Aki while she's at work."
The sidewalks they traverse are lined with quaint, interesting shops, the kind Minseok would love to duck into, one by one, and peruse. But the wind nips at every exposed bit of skin on his face and neck, and it weasels its way into his bones, so all he can think of right now is how he'd love to be back at the ryokan, sipping hot barley tea on the warm tatami flooring.
"Do you--do you want my coat?" Luhan asks softly.
They are walking side by side, with Sehun diligently consulting his map in front of them.
Minseok shakes his head.
"You look half-frozen," Luhan tries again. "And I'm totally fine."
Minseok gnaws on his lip and meets Luhan's gaze with doubt.
"Winters in Beijing were brutal," the bodyguard tells him. "And my best friend lived in Changsha, which is pretty much the East Pole. So I'm used to the cold."
"I won't take your coat," Minseok mumbles. "But...thanks."
"Take this, at least." Luhan tugs at the muffler draped loose over his neck and winds it close around Minseok's. He tucks the ends into Minseok's coat and props up his collar. "All right? It's just a scarf."
It takes a beat, but Minseok is nodding sheepishly and muttering his appreciation. Luhan is kind, and he knows exactly why that makes him feel ashamed.
The teahouse sneaks up on them on the right, after twenty minutes of walking. It's a modest place, easy to miss in a narrow alleyway, and only marked by a small wooden sign over the door that reads "En." The wall next to the entrance is painted black and lined with a neat, unbroken row of bamboo stalks. There's a window, too, framed with wood and lined with paper, just like at the ryokan.
Underneath Luhan's muffler, which he has pulled up to cover his nose and mouth, Minseok is smiling. This looks like the perfect place to stop in from the cold.
A roundish woman in a coral kimono opens the door and steps out. "Konnichiwa," she greets them, and that's the last thing Minseok understands before she launches into a cheerful volley of Japanese.
Luckily, it is Luhan she is looking at, and he converses with her for a few moments before turning to the prince. "I told her you're looking for Aki, Your Highness, and she's here." Sehun's eyes widen. "But she--" and Luhan smiles politely at the woman, "--is asking if you have an appointment?"
"Appointment?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Luhan says. "This teahouse is by appointment only."
Sehun opens his mouth as if to say something, but his head only tips to the side, and his lips stay pursed.
Minseok hoists himself up from underneath the scarf. "You didn't know, Your Highness?"
Sehun shakes his head.
The woman says something to Luhan, who nods and repeats the Japanese word for yes. "She says Aki's got a tea ceremony in ten minutes, Your Highness, and that she's very sorry but we need to clear the entrance for all the other guests."
"Can you ask her to tell Aki that it's me?" Sehun musters. "Tell her it's..."
"No names, Your Highness," Minseok murmurs. "No one outside the palace knows that you're even out of the country."
The prince is at a loss. "Okay. Okay, then, just tell her--"
The window slides opens and a head pokes out. It's a girl with a soft face and a swathe of black hair gathered in a chignon at the nape of her neck. She starts to say something to the roundish woman, until she notices the three men standing in the pathway. She dips her head thrice and greets each of them in Japanese, before speaking to her co-worker.
The woman replies swiftly, and she bows to Luhan, then Sehun, then Minseok, before moving to enter. Minseok has just noticed that she's shivering, and he guesses the girl has asked her to come in from the chill.
"Aki," Sehun says. "It's me."
The girl turns to look at him, but her face only registers mild confusion.
"Hello," she replies, using formal Korean. "I'm sorry, but you are...?"
Sehun unhooks the mask from behind one ear, then tugs it off the other. "It's me," he repeats. "Sehun-ah."
The reunion does not go well.
Because he's nervous, Sehun ends up calling En Teahouse "a tiny little place in the middle of nowhere" (he meant "charming" and "secluded") and "pretty dark inside" (he only wanted to see more of Aki's face while they were talking).
"This is my sensei's teahouse," Aki says quietly. "It has always been this way."
Sehun is also fidgety, his limbs jerking unpredictably like a wooden puppet's. They haven't been in the teahouse for more than two minutes before he knocks over a display of delicate tea whisks while trying to take off his hat. Two of them are crushed under his boots as he reels back to avoid the rest.
"Don't worry, I'll buy them all," is how the prince says he's sorry. He means well, but it comes out arrogant.
Minseok apologizes for him in Korean, while Luhan does the same in Japanese.
"These tea whisks are handmade from a single piece of bamboo," Aki informs him in the same quiet voice. "They are carved so precisely, the carver can only produce five of them in a whole day's work."
"Do you mean they're expensive?" Sehun asks, not quite getting it. "I brought my credit card with me..."
"They're not expensive," Aki replies, "but they are precious."
Finally, because he is pressed for small talk in the short amount of time they have before Aki's class begins, Sehun stumbles into the final offense.
He asks her, "So you've been studying this tea ceremony stuff for how long now?"
"Almost three years," Aki replies. "I've been training after school since I was eighteen."
"Wow, three years," Sehun says, and his voice is an obnoxious clap inside the teahouse's tranquil walls. "Don't you get bored with it?"
Minseok and Luhan grimace at the exact same moment.
Aki only smiles and says, "Not at all."
If Minseok wasn't a bodyguard trained to read facial expressions for intent, he would have probably missed the tiny hardening at the corner of Aki's mouth. Other than that, her bare face betrays nothing but politeness.
"Can I come see you again tomorrow?" Sehun asks when Aki's guests finally arrive. This means he has to put his mask back on.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Aki tells him softly.
"Why not?" Sehun's brow furrows, the way it does when he doesn't get his way. "Are you busy with work again?"
"It's my rest day, Your Highness," she murmurs. Sehun grows rigid when his title falls from her lips.
"Why are you calling me that?" he demands. "You know you don't have to. And you never used to--don't you remember?"
"I do remember," Aki says. "But you're not who you used to be."
Sehun shuts himself into his room when they get back to the ryokan and tells both his bodyguards he needs some time.
Minseok doesn't even realize Luhan is trailing after him until he slides open the door to his room, nudges off his sneakers, and hears the knock on the door frame.
"Kim," the Chinese bodyguard says uncertainly. "Can I come in?"
The room is warm and Minseok wants to seal the door shut already so it gets even warmer. He answers, "Sure."
Their socked feet scrape soothingly against the woven matting. Minseok pulls off his gloves and slips out of his coat before padding over to the little tea trolley, where he busies himself with the electronic kettle.
"What are your thoughts on this whole situation?" Luhan asks. Minseok notices he hasn't sat down, so he gestures to the upholstered throw pillows by the window. Luhan arranges himself on them carefully and looks back with rapt attention. There is also a touch of gratefulness there that Minseok doesn't notice.
"He's just a kid," Minseok replies. "He doesn't know how to woo anyone."
"How would you do it?"
"Me?"
"Yeah." Luhan's looking at him intently. "If you were the prince, how would you get a girl like that?"
Minseok think of his first and only girlfriend, Li Na, whom he'd dated throughout high school and lost his virginity to when they were both sixteen. Aki reminds him a little of her, with her simple beauty, fresh like spring.
"If I were Prince Sehun, I would...act less like Prince Jongin."
Luhan chuckles. "It's like he was possessed earlier. He never acts that way."
"Never," Minseok agrees. "He just wants to impress her, really--"
"--but he just ends up insulting her." Luhan shakes his head. "Times like these, I don't miss being twenty-one." He mutters something else under his breath.
Minseok lets an amused sound escape him. "Speaking from personal experience?"
Luhan balks. "You heard me?"
"'But the same thing happens when you're twenty-nine, anyway.' That's what you said, right?"
The other bodyguard looks uncomfortable, and his tongue skates out between his lips. "Yeah. How'd you--"
"Sharp ears," Minseok replies, tugging on one for emphasis.
An odd feeling comes over him as he's doing it, like it's someone else standing in his place, joking around with his partner. It dawns on him that in the year they've worked together, this is the friendliest he's ever been with Luhan. The hand at his ear drops. Somehow--and he doesn't know when, where, or why--he's let his guard down.
And it's not so bad.
Luhan decides to clear his throat just then, almost like he's thinking the same thing. "Going back to the prince," he says, "I was thinking maybe we should stage an intervention."
Minseok takes to this new direction. "How?"
"You know, give him a few pointers. Show him a few tricks. That sort of thing."
Minseok thinks of Li Na, who'd cried when he'd broken up with her before leaving for the academy, but said she'd always love him. "I don't know," he tells Luhan. "I'm not very good with women."
"Well, I'm not saying I am," Luhan laughs. "I mean, I prefer men, but--"
"Me, too," Minseok lets slip, just as Luhan concludes, "The same things apply to most relationships."
And then there is silence.
It's similar to the one that had blossomed between him and Li Na, Minseok recalls, the day he'd come out to her. After that, her tears had streamed, and she'd clung to him as he'd held her tight and told her he was sorry.
"You prefer men?" Luhan finally asks, voice levelled and casual.
"Yes," Minseok replies. "But you're right, the same things do apply."
"Yes," Luhan repeats after him. "I didn't know that about you."
Minseok hums, feeling strange again. "So what's the plan?"
Luhan's eyelids flutter a few times. Focus creeps back into his pupils. "The plan. Right. Yes. Okay. Here's what I was thinking."
They chat for another hour, just the two of them, and it's a new record. Sure, they discuss Operation Aki, but they also end up talking about other things. How Minseok's father had also worked for the royal guard, and how his son grew up wanting to be just like Dad. How Luhan had lived around the world as a child--learning to bike in Beijing, falling off skateboards in California, cramming into trains in Tokyo. How, as a budding adult, he'd chosen to stay in Seoul when his parents moved back to China.
"My first year in Korea, my class got to visit the academy on a field trip," Luhan shares. "I don't know why, but before we'd left that day, I'd already decided to attend." He grins lopsidedly. "Good thing they were accepting foreigners when I applied. Would've broken my heart otherwise."
Later, when they've already moved on to another topic, Luhan scratches at his nape and muses, "It's funny how we never met at the academy." He pauses to let that dissolve in the air, and Minseok brushes his thumb against his teacup until Luhan goes on with whatever he was saying.
"I like Manchester, too," Minseok tells him, when football comes up.
"That's awesome," Luhan says, eyes shining and full of pleasure. "That's so great."
Luhan's kind of...great, too. Minseok will admit it. There's no dramatic flourish when he resolves to stop being such a jerk, no triumphant soundtrack to denote the shift, like in the movies. The more he talks with Luhan, the more he realizes there's nothing that deserves it. Simple as that.
"We'll start the operation tomorrow," Luhan declares, right before he leaves. His eyes trail down to Minseok's neck, which is still wrapped in the plaid muffler.
"Oh, right," Minseok says, feeling the weight of the scarf for the first time. "I didn't realize I was still wearing this. Here--" His hands move to take it off. But Luhan shakes his head, and one of his own hands comes up to press the scarf against Minseok's collarbones. He draws it back hurriedly.
"Keep it," Luhan replies, looking away. "I have another one just like it."
Part 2
Pairing: Xiuhan, platonic!Xiuhun/Hunhan
Genre: bodyguard!au
Rating: PG-13
Length: 20,330 words (threeshot)
Summary: Minseok is the longtime protector and voice of reason to a young prince. When Luhan is brought in for backup, Minseok is torn between resentment and fascination.
Notes: In which Korea has a royal family. Very loosely inspired by the lyrics to Raleigh Ritchie's "Bloodsport". No one is shot.
The prince is only fifteen, and nursing a broken heart, when Minseok first comes to the palace.
"Your Highness," the royal secretary says outside the door of the teenager's study. "Your new bodyguard is here."
There is no direct reply, but Minseok can hear murmurs from within the room. The royal secretary bows and opens the door for him, hand held out to signal that he may enter. Minseok slides in noiselessly, the way he has been trained to do at the academy for the past four years.
Inside, it's dark, and the prince is standing over his desk with his back to the bodyguard. In both hands, he clutches the glossy receiver of an antique telephone, and he speaks into it in a quiet, urgent tone.
"It wasn't us," the prince is saying. "You know that, don't you? Good...yes, I trust you, too." His voice shakes. "Don't forget me, Aki."
Minseok registers the foreign name and infers that the person on the other line is the Japanese ambassador's daughter. The papers paint her as a delicate girl with bright eyes, seen regularly in the company of Prince Sehun, the second in line to Korea's throne. The papers also tell of the volatile territory disputes between Korea and Japan, which have spurred public dissent and countless demonstrations in front of the palace.
Yesterday's front page story had to do with two bomb threats. The first was at the Japanese embassy in Seoul. The second was at the Japanese ambassador's private residence. His wife was out, but his pretty fourteen-year-old, Aki, was not. She, the housekeeper, and the family's two pet beagles were evacuated by the police.
If the terrorists who set up the whole thing simply wanted to send a message, they succeeded. Today's news reveals that the Japanese ambassador and his entire family (beagles included) are flying back to Tokyo.
The prince stammers into the receiver, "Will...will we ever see each other again?"
Even on home ground, the King and Queen fear for their safety and that of their sons Joonmyun and Sehun, should there be retaliation from angry Japanese residents. Minseok got the call last night--the one telling him he is part of the team of elite security the palace is bringing in to bulk up the royal guard.
It's a tall order, but Minseok is ready. He graduated a year ago at the top of his class, gaining experience in the months since as short-term security for various high-ranking officials. He is strong, fearless, and intuitive. He might not be as imposing as your average bodyguard, but he considers the medium height and baby face his natural camouflage.
He is also twenty-three, just eight years older than Sehun. He suspects that's why he has been paired with the teenager, and not with Crown Prince Joonmyun, who is only a year younger than Minseok.
The prince mumbles, "I like you, Aki."
Minseok feels sorry for him, sorry for the premature heartache the boy has to go through because of political ties that bind and then break.
"Will you wait for me?" Sehun asks. His voice grows adamant. "I'll come for you when I grow up, I promise. Just wait for me?"
The answer seems to be an agreeable one, because the prince looks relieved. "Okay," he murmurs. "Okay." But the interlude is short-lived, because in the next moment his expression turns stricken. "What? No, don't--as in, right now?" His voice grows desperate around the edges, and in a panic, he says again, "Don't forget me!"
A few seconds of silence tick past, and Minseok can't really tell what's going on, what the girl might be saying over the line. Finally, Sehun very quietly says, "Goodbye, Aki-chan," and hangs up the phone.
That's when he turns around and finds Minseok standing impassively at the door, not having moved an inch since shutting it behind him.
"Who are you?" the prince asks dully.
"Kim Minseok, Your Highness." Minseok bends in a low, respectful bow. "I'm your new bodyguard. At your service."
"Have you been there the whole time?" There is no bite to Sehun's words, only a quiver in his bottom lip.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"So you heard the whole thing."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"I should get used to this, huh?" Sehun looks down at his feet. "Never being alone."
Minseok bows again, apologetic. "I'm sorry, Your Highness."
"She had to go," Sehun tells him out of nowhere. When the young boy looks up at Minseok, his eyes are shiny and wet. "She had to board her plane."
Minseok keeps mum, unsure of how to respond.
"She's important to me. Aki." Sehun swallows hard. "I'm--I feel awful. You might see me crying." He clears his throat, draws himself up. "But I never cry otherwise, just so you know. This is, this is a one-time thing."
"That's quite all right, Your Highness," Minseok says swiftly, using the gentlest voice in his repertoire. "I won't let anybody in." On instinct, he adds, "I am sure you are just as important...to Aki."
The prince almost smiles at him, the corner of his mouth quirking imperceptibly. Then his back is to Minseok once again. He sinks into his swivel chair, places his arms on his desk and burrows his face into his arms, and Minseok knows he's hiding his tears.
In response, the bodyguard squares his shoulders, crosses his hands in front of him, and plants his feet a little more firmly into the ground. Protective, but at ease. For who knows how long, Minseok stands guard by the door, a pillar of comfort in his pressed black suit. He lets no one else see the prince in mourning.
If young Sehun grows up a little wild, it's only because his older brother is being the quintessential prince in comparison.
Less than a year after Minseok joins the royal staff, Joonmyun graduates summa cum laude, with a double major in economics and history. When he walks onstage at his solemn commencement ceremony, Sehun shoots up from his seat in the front row to wallop and whistle. The King and the Crown Prince grin indulgently as the Queen sighs in resignation.
Every day, as Joonmyun sifts through the nitty gritty of his responsibilities, Sehun will peek into his study and pull faces until Joonmyun spots him through the cluster of advisors in the room. The young prince will wave his sporting equipment of choice through the crack in the door--soccer ball, riding crop--and gesture for Joonmyun to follow him. His brother only smiles, sticks out his tongue when nobody's looking, and goes back to the pile of paperwork on his desk.
Sehun never misses an opportunity to spar with Joonmyun's bodyguard, Chanyeol, who is a master of martial arts. Even when Chanyeol is on duty. Especially when Chanyeol is on duty.
"Your Highness," Minseok will murmur when the playfighting runs long and Chanyeol starts to look a little worn. "That's enough for today."
To his credit, Sehun has grown to heed what his bodyguard says.
Even when Minseok tells him it isn't a good idea to sneak off to that underground dance party Sehun's been eying on the Internet (too shady).
Even when Minseok tells him to stay cool after a drunken foreigner insults the hallowed name of Sehun's favorite football team, and Sehun's fists twitch at his sides (not worth it).
Even when Minseok tells him it might be time to head home from one of his cousin's scandalous soirees--the ones that lay out the refreshments on naked models and end up in a game of strip Twister (too many cameras to confiscate). Prince Jongin will tease him for being a pushover later on, but still, Sehun will obey.
For all his mischief, the prince is a good kid. He calls Minseok "hyung," not "Kim," and is always asking Minseok to call him Sehun, not Your Highness. Minseok appreciates the gesture, but finds this foray into first-name basis too fresh for his liking. Whenever he declines, Sehun sulks. To appease him, Minseok makes an effort to speak to his charge in a friendly, familiar tone--not the official, trained timbre he uses with the other members of the royal family.
They share a deep trust. Neither Sehun nor Minseok are particularly forthcoming about private matters, but Minseok understands the youth much more than he lets on. He knows, for instance, that for no particular reason, the prince will sometimes withdraw into himself, preferring not to see or speak to anyone. Minseok pretends to leave on an errand, saying he'll be back shortly--but he just stations himself right outside the door and gives Sehun a full hour alone. When he slides back into the room, Sehun will grin and ask, "Where've you been, hyung?"
Minseok also knows that Sehun would rather be an explorer than a prince; that he pretends not to care about school but spends the quiet hours before bed poring over geography books, memorizing the capital cities of every country on the planet. Minseok has seen the boot-shaped birthmark on Sehun's arm countless times, the prince holding it out proudly to declare, "Look, hyung. Italy."
At the academy, they are taught discipline, respect, precision, and loyalty. They are not taught fondness, the kind of emotion Minseok has only ever associated with his little sister. But he is fond of his charge, very much so, and Sehun idolizes him in turn. In fact, when Joonmyun jokingly asks the royal maknae whom he likes better, his own hyung or Minseok, Sehun will pick at his fingernails and mutter, "You're equal."
The day Minseok comes down with swine flu is the day Luhan comes to the palace.
It's been five years since Minseok accepted his royal post. Sehun is almost fully grown at twenty. The bodyguard used to have three inches on the prince--now, Sehun's got two on him.
In all their time together, Minseok has never fallen this ill.
The King and Queen have him admitted to the royal hospital, despite Minseok's feeble protests to take him to any of the civilian establishments. He has an alarming fever and a hacking cough. The doctors are forced to quarantine him. No one is allowed to visit, not even Prince Sehun (who kicks up a huge fuss about it, unbeknownst to his bodyguard).
Minseok's superior at the agency tells him they've got the prince covered. "We're sending one of our Chinese guys as your substitute. Lots of experience. Spotless record. Don't worry, Kim."
Minseok certainly hopes so, because Sehun is scheduled to appear at a parade today. The political turmoil between Japan and Korea has simmered to a low boil over the years, so that's not why Minseok is frustrated with himself for getting sick. There's a new threat now, an internal one: the morbidly-obsessed fan.
Since Sehun turned eighteen, the media has felt legally entitled to a piece of him, and the prince has racked up an enormous following in Asia.
It wasn't so bad when Joonmyun was his age (although he was very popular). But Sehun's generation is different. It's been fed on celebrity worship and social media since infancy, and never quite understood how certain things, like privacy, could be beyond its reach. The prince is dashing and exciting, just like an idol, making him an easy target of infatuation. "Royal bad boy," the press calls him, releasing photos of Sehun smoking in front of a club and keeping company with Seoul's most infamous rich kids (cousin Jongin included). "Punk rock prince," they dub him, when Sehun dyes his hair bleach-blond and gets both ears pierced, much to the chagrin of the Queen (the King tells his son in private that he thinks it's pretty cool).
When Sehun is spotted around the city, the nicer fans might scream and whip out their phones, but the crazy ones give relentless chase and touch, touch, touch.
This is unacceptable to Minseok. He rarely loses his cool, because he's good at his job, and he can get between a senseless sasaeng and the young prince in two shakes. But parades stress him out--the crush of people can't be monitored as stringently as he would like. At any time, an exuberant crowd could easily turn into a dangerous mob.
So when Sehun calls him after the event and ribs, "Hey, hyung, I'm alive!" Minseok doesn't know if he's joking.
"What happened?" Minseok asks.
"Nothing. I waved. They screamed," Sehun replies. "Your sub is pretty awesome. I like him."
Minseok coughs aggressively into his palm.
"Will you be okay, hyung?" Sehun's voice is less jovial now. "They won't let me come--"
"Good," Minseok interrupts, clearing something nasty from his throat. "I'm contagious." He remembers how anxious the prince gets over separations, and adds, "I'll return shortly, Your Highness. I'm sorry for not being there today."
"Just rest, hyung," Sehun says, gentle but authoritative. "The new guy's got me until you come back."
Nine days later, Minseok is released from the hospital, and he meets Luhan for the first time.
"Morning," says the Chinese bodyguard, extending a hand and a warm look. Minseok has just joined him outside the everyday dining hall, where the royal family is having breakfast. Like the rest of palace security, they wear identical black suits. "You must be Minseok."
"Call me Kim," Minseok replies tersely, shaking his hand. The new guy's familiarity is a little off-putting.
"Call me Luhan," the other says, grinning.
"Your surname?" Minseok asks. "I prefer to stick to protocol."
Luhan's grin falters. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's Lu. Last name Lu, first name Han. But in Korea everyone just calls me Luhan. Even the King and Queen." The bodyguard looks hopeful. "You can, too, if you like."
Minseok considers it for a moment, before begrudgingly giving his reply. "All right. I hear we're the same age?"
Luhan nods. "Just turned twenty-eight." His smooth face accommodates a pleasant smile.
Another pretty boy, Minseok observes. Just like Sehun and the Crown Prince. True enough, Luhan is of doe eyes, peachy skin, and soft, floppy hair; he's probably as tall as their charge, and his appearance is nothing like a bodyguard's.
"I don't know how long you're going to be with us," Minseok says abruptly. "But girlfriends aren't allowed to visit the palace, in case you haven't been told."
Luhan smirks. "And boyfriends?"
That gives Minseok pause for a split second. "No boyfriends allowed, either."
"What happens if you sneak them in?" Luhan's expression is playful and conspiratorial, so Minseok can't tell if he's kidding. "Have you ever tried?"
"Of course not," Minseok shoots back. Strangely enough, talking to the new guy is almost like talking to Sehun. "I always stick--"
"--to protocol. Gotcha," Luhan cuts in amiably. "No boyfriend right now, and even if I did, I'd follow the rules." He eyes Minseok curiously. "And you?"
"What about me?"
"Any girlfriend? Boyfriend?" Luhan grins at him again, totally at home in the conversation.
Minseok, on the other hand, is annoyed.
"That's none of your business," he warns, the words coming out sterner than he had intended.
The substitute stiffens, realizing he's overstepped the bounds. He dips his head in apology. "Sorry," he murmurs. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Sehun pops his head out the door at that moment, so Minseok doesn't have a chance to address the tiny poke of guilt in his chest.
"Hyung, you're back!" the prince cries enthusiastically. He slings his arm across Minseok's shoulders. "All better now?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Minseok says, considerably less icy. "Thank you for checking up on me every day."
The prince shoots him a pointed look, and Minseok knows he doesn't like being thanked for something so natural.
Sehun turns to their other companion. "Guess what, Luhan-hyung?" His eyes are sparkling. "My mother and father want you with us full-time."
There are three major things Minseok dislikes about his new partner.
The first thing is that he talks too much. By the end of the week, Minseok knows the guy's birthday, the names of his parents, the four cities he grew up in (and therefore, the four languages he speaks), his favorite films and television shows, the last album he downloaded into his iPod, how he takes his coffee--not to mention, why Manchester United is the greatest football team in the universe.
Following this deluge of information, Minseok tells Luhan to minimize the chatter and focus on the job.
"Just making conversation," Luhan says, cheerful and unreadable.
The second thing Minseok dislikes is that Luhan seems to copy everything he does. By the end of a fortnight, Luhan has taken to brushing his hair back from his forehead, neat and sharp, just like Minseok's. Luhan's hands fly to his tie whenever Minseok moves to adjust his own. Luhan's also missing both small black studs he was wearing on their first meeting.
"What happened to your earrings?" Minseok asks in spite of himself.
"You weren't wearing any," Luhan explains, "so I took mine out." He doesn't look at Minseok when he murmurs, "You did say to follow protocol."
When Minseok informs him it's more of a personal preference than an actual regulation, Luhan only shrugs.
The third and most offensive thing is how good Luhan is with Sehun. He knows it's childish, that it's a pro, not a con, but Minseok completely resents him for it, anyway.
One time, Sehun drags them out to an all-night fete with cousin Jongin and Co. Minseok sidles up to the prince at around 2:00AM and suggests, in sotto voce, that it's time they got going.
"Just one more hour," Sehun says out of the side of his mouth. Jongin is already smirking at him from across the poker table.
"You've got an early day tomorrow," Minseok murmurs.
Sehun really doesn't want to go home yet. "Please, hyung?"
"Don't forget, Your Highness," Luhan chimes in out of nowhere, "it's World Geography you've got at 7:00."
Sehun opens his mouth, closes it, and pushes back his seat. "Gotta go, boys," he tells his privileged posse. "It's been fun."
"Works every time," Luhan mutters, tossing Minseok a knowing glance.
Without making eye contact, Minseok mutters back, "I had it handled."
Luhan is surprised by his coldness. "I was only trying to help, Kim," he says in earnest, but Minseok is already striding past him to catch up with the prince.
Another time, in the palace, Minseok returns from a bathroom break and finds Luhan teaching Sehun how to swear in English.
"What's this?" Minseok asks, just as Sehun tries out a confident "Motherfucker!"
Unlike Luhan, Minseok does not speak Mandarin and Japanese in addition to Korean. He does, however, have a perfect grasp of the English language.
Sehun turns to him proudly, like a kid who's just learned to ride a bike. "Hey, hyung, do you know what 'motherfucker' means?" Half of Sehun's face pulls up in a mischievous grin. "It means--"
"Yes, I know, Your Highness," Minseok says placidly. "But you've still got those Agricultural Development readings to finish."
Luhan winces--a tiny narrowing of the eyes, like an unresolved blink.
Sehun blows out his lips. "But they're so boring! And Luhan-hyung said I could take a break." Minseok regards him meaningfully, and the way the prince takes up his textbook and yellow highlighting pen is nothing less than begrudging. "You're no fun."
He's just pouting, the way he usually does when Minseok succeeds in getting him to do something he'd rather not. It's innocent, really.
But when Sehun tells him he isn't fun, it's a fist in Minseok's gut. The soft, creeping texture of fear grazes his skin, cool in its touch. It's a fear that the prince might actually outgrow him someday, and a fear he's never had until now.
Irrational--that's the only word for it. Minseok is frustrated with himself, because he has always used reason as a compass. Lately, however, he's been letting his insecurities best his judgment--and yes, he admits, blaming it all on Luhan. Because if Luhan is anything, he's the cooler, more spontaneous, and in some ways, more capable hyung between the pair of them.
And that's a fact.
A few minutes later, as Sehun pores over his readings, Minseok finds Luhan close to his side. "I know, I know," the new guy says under his breath, eyes downcast. "I shouldn't have distracted him. I should focus on the job. You don't have to scowl at me."
"I'm not--" Minseok starts, but he stops when he hears the dismal chuckle.
"Yeah, actually, you are." Luhan mutters. Sehun cocks a glance over his shoulder, and Luhan grits out the rest through a smile. "As usual."
This bothers Minseok, who has always been polite and gracious--not to mention, fair. But his dislike for his partner is too strong, cloying, like a bad taste in his mouth. So he doesn't apologize, even though he knows he should.
What it all boils down to is this: what took Minseok five years to carefully hone between him and his charge, Luhan has made laughably quick work of. It is, in Minseok's eyes, not an intrusion, but a takeover.
And that is something Minseok can't help but hold against him.
If there's one thing Minseok likes about Luhan--and he's not yet decided if this counts--it's that the latter knows nothing of Sehun's first love.
The prince doesn't speak about Aki, not to Jongin or his parents or Minseok. But the bodyguard knows he keeps tabs on her. Every few months, Crown Prince Joonmyun will tell his little brother to check his email, and Minseok never misses the look of confidentiality that passes between them.
Later, he will find Sehun staring at his computer screen, mouthing the unfamiliar syllables of a foreign address.
Once, as Sehun dawdles over his schoolwork for the nth time, he asks Minseok a question.
"Hyung?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Do you think Aki would like me if she knew me now?"
Minseok humors him. "Why wouldn't she?"
The prince furrows his brow. "I'm different from before."
"How so?"
"You know, hyung." Sehun twists up his mouth, a little impatiently. "I'm not...nice. Not sweet."
"You're just a little rebellious, like all boys your age. That doesn't make you a bad person."
Sehun bites his lip. "Really?"
Minseok chuckles. "You're a very sweet kid." The intimacy of it makes him clear his throat. "If you don't mind me saying so, Your Highness."
Sehun beams like he's fifteen years old again. He declares, "You're the best, hyung," and Minseok feels the skin of their old camaraderie slipping over him, warm and close.
Luhan waits until Sehun has gone back to crunching numbers before side-eying Minseok. Slowly. Carefully. Curiously.
"Spit it out," Minseok grunts without meeting his partner's eye.
Luhan smiles, so openly pleased at the small attention, Minseok can actually feel the movement.
It must be said that no matter how many times he speaks to Luhan with frost in his tone or completely freezes him out, the Chinese bodyguard simply dusts himself off and tries again. Minseok hasn't decided if Luhan is overcompensating, or if he's just stupidly good-natured.
"Who's Aki?" Luhan whispers.
It's like the sound of a harp in Minseok's ear.
"The prince hasn't told you about Aki?" he asks, fighting to keep childish hope from coating his voice.
Luhan shakes his head.
Minseok's chest swells with pride.
It's in a show of good will towards Sehun that Minseok uncharacteristically takes the time to explain. "She's a girl the prince used to know," he murmurs. Luhan nods, eyes alert. "Boyhood love."
Luhan mouths an ahh in understanding. That is followed, almost bashfully, by a "Thanks."
"I thought he would have told you by now," Minseok admits.
"He doesn't talk to me about things like that," Luhan tells him. "Just you." Then he's saying something in an even lower tone, and Minseok thinks he hasn't heard him right when the words trickle into his ears. "Because you're special."
He snaps his head to the side. He squints at Luhan really hard. "Pardon?" he tosses out for good measure.
But Luhan only gives him a quick, innocent shake of the head and licks the dryness off his lips. Minseok can't get another sidelong glance out of him for the rest of the day.
The marriage talks begin the day after Sehun's twenty-first birthday.
"Darling," the Queen ventures at the breakfast table. "How do you feel about Lady Suzy?"
"Bae?" Sehun clarifies through a mouthful of poached eggs. "She's cool."
"You shouldn't call her Bae, son," the King murmurs behind his paper. "She's nobility."
"But Bae's my buddy."
"And she's beautiful," the Queen gushes. "How about we get you two engaged?"
Sehun chokes violently on his food, but holds up a hand when both Minseok and Luhan step in from outside the door.
"I'm fine." The prince wipes his mouth on a table napkin. "And I'm not getting married," he directs at the Queen. "I'm still in school!"
"So?" the Queen trills. "You're twenty-one. Royals have always wed early. Now!" She taps her chin with an elegant fingertip. "If not little Suzy, then how about General Lee's daughter? Ha Yi, isn't it?"
"Who's...do you mean Lee Hi?" Sehun laughs raucously. "She's seventeen. You're basically turning me into a public offender."
The Queen's mouth purses. "Oh, dear, you're right." Her fingertip rests against her lips. "And the Prime Minister's girl? Seohyun? I know she's a little older than you but three years is nothing, really--you might as well be the same age. And the royal secretary tells me she comes to see you ride at the club..."
"Actually," Sehun drawls, "she comes to see Luhan-hyung. Jongin reckons it's a pretty lethal crush." He snorts. "She won't give him the time of day."
"Is that so?" the Queen sighs, shooting a glance at the door. The sound of two throats clearing filters into the dining hall.
"Yep," Sehun triumphs. "So let's drop this."
The Queen clucks disapprovingly. "But it really is time you started considering marriage. Or at the very least, a serious relationship." Her expression turns honey-sweet. "You're so handsome, darling, and you've never even been kissed!"
"Mom." Sehun's tone is a warning.
"She's right, son," the King puts in, fluffing out his paper and folding it down into a neat square. "Your mother and I have decided to start looking for a suitable match. We were just letting you know."
"Dad!" Sehun whines.
"I don't see what the big fuss is about," the King rumbles pleasantly. He rises from his chair, tops off his tea, and pecks the Queen on the forehead. "Your brother got married last year. Look how happy he is."
"But he and Jung were together for years," Sehun disputes. "It's totally different from marrying someone you were set up with."
"So make sure to get to know your someone before you get married," the King replies, a tease curling in his voice. "And stop calling your sister-in-law Jung. What does your generation have against calling ladies by their names?"
"Such a pretty name, too," the Queen muses, picking at a strawberry tart. "Jessica."
"If you don't want us to set you up," the King adds, "you could very well make the choice yourself." He smiles at the consternation on his son's face, and his own creases with fine lines of wisdom. "No one's stopping you from finding love, Sehun."
The prince gets it into his head to run away to Japan only two days later. Of course, the first people he tells are Minseok and Luhan.
"Just for a few months," Sehun says easily, like he's talking about sleeping over at a friend's. "Six, maybe seven. A year, tops."
"Absolutely not," Minseok replies. "Absolutely not."
"No, really, hyung," Sehun pushes. "It'll be great."
"Your Highness, you can't just relocate to another country to avoid going on marriage dates."
"Who says I'm avoiding them?" Sehun twinkles, and Minseok knows exactly what's going on.
"Aki?" is the only thing he has to ask, and Sehun's face is breaking into a smile like daylight.
Minseok knows he has to be very, very gentle.
"I know you want to see her, Your Highness," he begins. "And that's understandable, and admirable. I get it, really, I do."
"Why do I feel like you're still saying no to me," Sehun mutters, smile chipping.
"You still have your last year of college to finish, and the semester starts very soon." Minseok is lecturing, but trying not to sound like it. "And you know the last year is the busiest. Besides the academic load, you'll start basic training for your royal duties, just like the Crown Prince did. Not as much paperwork, of course, but there's still a lot to learn."
"I don't care about all that," Sehun says petulantly. "You know I've never wanted the princely life."
"I know, Your Highness," Minseok tells him softly. "But that's the only one you've got."
"Hyung, just listen to me, okay?" Sehun's brows knit together, and his eyes look dangerously similar to the time when Minseok first met him. Lonely. "I told her I'd come find her when I grew up. And I'm all grown up now, like the Queen said. So I'm gonna go find her."
"Your Highness--"
"And you and Luhan-hyung can come with me. I really want you to," Sehun continues. "But you can't stop me." His eyes hold Minseok's in a soft entreaty. "So don't. Please?"
Minseok presses his lips together. This is going to be harder than he thought.
"You know, Your Highness," Luhan says quietly from where he has been standing, a little apart from them. "You could just ask your parents for permission."
Sehun blinks.
Minseok would resent Luhan right now if he wasn't a little embarrassed about not coming up with the obvious solution.
Of course, the King says yes--to Sehun's trip as a whole, not necessarily to the duration of it. That will be decided by his mother.
"Attaboy," he says, when Sehun shyly mentions Aki. "Go get her." And in a softer tone, "Tell her father that his old friend misses him."
The Queen is more practical. She is the fine sieve through which Sehun's plans much pass, grain by grain. The details of his spur-of-the-moment sojourn are turned over and over in her deft hands until they are worn.
"So, you're going to Kyoto?"
"Yup."
"Where will you be staying?"
"At this ryokan. Yes, it's safe--it's in a residential neighborhood. And see, it's got five stars on TripAdvisor."
"You'll be taking Kim and Luhan with you, of course."
"Naturally."
"And when will you see Aki?"
"I don't know...when it's convenient for her."
"She's still in college?"
"Yes."
"You shouldn't go see her on campus, you know. You don't want those fanatics of yours after her."
"I know."
"And she's apprenticing as a tea ceremony master, you said?"
"Yes, she is."
"And you'll be visiting the teahouse?"
"Yeah, I mean, I'm not--if she--as long as that's okay. That's the plan."
"I see. And Kim and Luhan will chaperone at all times."
"Well, not at all times..."
"That's not a question."
"...Fine."
Eventually, the Queen agrees on the condition that Sehun will be back to resume his schooling in three months.
"Three! How about four?" he bargains.
"Three, young man. No later," she says in a disciplinarian's voice.
"All right," Sehun answers good-naturedly.
The voice gentles. "Good luck, darling."
Outside the door, where they are pretending not to listen, Minseok and Luhan snigger at the same thing.
"'Darling' when she wants something," Minseok begins.
"'Young man' when he wants something," Luhan concludes.
They exchange boyish grins.
Minseok is the first to notice what's happening. Luhan is either oblivious or content; his mouth and the corners of his eyes tipping in the same direction--up.
When Minseok shrinks back, frowns, and turns away, he doesn't notice how quickly his partner's face falls.
They arrive in Kyoto in February, on a brisk winter's day. The skyline is a whir of muted blue-gray-white outside the window of their first-class express train from Kansai Airport. Minseok soaks it all in, and he doesn't notice how he's already pressing his fingers up against the glass.
The ryokan is incredible--serene and elegant and proud, with winged tile roofs and bamboo-framed paper walls that whisper when touched. There's an expanse of garden around it that Minseok can only imagine is as green as an emerald in the proper season. It's as much of a treasure inside, ancient tradition and modern amenities blending seamlessly to make a second home.
Minseok already thought it was a good idea to book the entire place (for the prince's safety and privacy), but now, he's even more thankful they have the ryokan to themselves. The staff is so discreet, they seem to spirit away immediately following check-in.
Of course, as soon as Minseok, Luhan, and Sehun have been escorted to their own rooms with their luggage, the prince wastes no time.
"Let's go see Aki," he says.
He's already gone incognito, his face half-hidden underneath a black skull mask and a snapback covering most of his blonde hair. He has the address of Aki's teahouse saved everywhere--on his laptop, his mobile phone. He reaches into the pocket inside his coat, and he's got it in there, too. This one's been handwritten on a map, and it comes with a plotted-out route from the hotel to the teahouse.
"All right, Your Highness," Minseok says, shrugging on the same thick black duffle coat he'd only just hung up. Underneath it, he's dressed not in a suit, but in casual clothes, so as not to attract attention. He hears the snow falling softly outside, and he bundles himself up with extra care.
If there's one enemy Minseok has never quite learned to vanquish, it's the cold.
Luhan's waiting for them downstairs. He's in dark jeans and black boots, with a plaid muffler wrapped around his neck. His coat is navy, and that is the only thing that differentiates it from Minseok's.
Minseok is already too cold to care.
They walk to the closest subway station, and Minseok has to grit his teeth to keep them from chattering.
They speed through the station, buy tickets, and hop into their train. Minseok blows hot into his palms and rubs them together.
They file out several stops later, and Sehun realizes it would have been better to take the bus directly. The station is a five-block walk from Aki's teahouse.
"Where's the closest bus stop?" Luhan asks, peering into the map.
"It's...six...blocks away?" Sehun's smile shapes itself into an awkward square. "This is sort of a traffic-protected area."
"We should start walking, then," Minseok pipes up, never a complainer. "You don't want to miss Aki while she's at work."
The sidewalks they traverse are lined with quaint, interesting shops, the kind Minseok would love to duck into, one by one, and peruse. But the wind nips at every exposed bit of skin on his face and neck, and it weasels its way into his bones, so all he can think of right now is how he'd love to be back at the ryokan, sipping hot barley tea on the warm tatami flooring.
"Do you--do you want my coat?" Luhan asks softly.
They are walking side by side, with Sehun diligently consulting his map in front of them.
Minseok shakes his head.
"You look half-frozen," Luhan tries again. "And I'm totally fine."
Minseok gnaws on his lip and meets Luhan's gaze with doubt.
"Winters in Beijing were brutal," the bodyguard tells him. "And my best friend lived in Changsha, which is pretty much the East Pole. So I'm used to the cold."
"I won't take your coat," Minseok mumbles. "But...thanks."
"Take this, at least." Luhan tugs at the muffler draped loose over his neck and winds it close around Minseok's. He tucks the ends into Minseok's coat and props up his collar. "All right? It's just a scarf."
It takes a beat, but Minseok is nodding sheepishly and muttering his appreciation. Luhan is kind, and he knows exactly why that makes him feel ashamed.
The teahouse sneaks up on them on the right, after twenty minutes of walking. It's a modest place, easy to miss in a narrow alleyway, and only marked by a small wooden sign over the door that reads "En." The wall next to the entrance is painted black and lined with a neat, unbroken row of bamboo stalks. There's a window, too, framed with wood and lined with paper, just like at the ryokan.
Underneath Luhan's muffler, which he has pulled up to cover his nose and mouth, Minseok is smiling. This looks like the perfect place to stop in from the cold.
A roundish woman in a coral kimono opens the door and steps out. "Konnichiwa," she greets them, and that's the last thing Minseok understands before she launches into a cheerful volley of Japanese.
Luckily, it is Luhan she is looking at, and he converses with her for a few moments before turning to the prince. "I told her you're looking for Aki, Your Highness, and she's here." Sehun's eyes widen. "But she--" and Luhan smiles politely at the woman, "--is asking if you have an appointment?"
"Appointment?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Luhan says. "This teahouse is by appointment only."
Sehun opens his mouth as if to say something, but his head only tips to the side, and his lips stay pursed.
Minseok hoists himself up from underneath the scarf. "You didn't know, Your Highness?"
Sehun shakes his head.
The woman says something to Luhan, who nods and repeats the Japanese word for yes. "She says Aki's got a tea ceremony in ten minutes, Your Highness, and that she's very sorry but we need to clear the entrance for all the other guests."
"Can you ask her to tell Aki that it's me?" Sehun musters. "Tell her it's..."
"No names, Your Highness," Minseok murmurs. "No one outside the palace knows that you're even out of the country."
The prince is at a loss. "Okay. Okay, then, just tell her--"
The window slides opens and a head pokes out. It's a girl with a soft face and a swathe of black hair gathered in a chignon at the nape of her neck. She starts to say something to the roundish woman, until she notices the three men standing in the pathway. She dips her head thrice and greets each of them in Japanese, before speaking to her co-worker.
The woman replies swiftly, and she bows to Luhan, then Sehun, then Minseok, before moving to enter. Minseok has just noticed that she's shivering, and he guesses the girl has asked her to come in from the chill.
"Aki," Sehun says. "It's me."
The girl turns to look at him, but her face only registers mild confusion.
"Hello," she replies, using formal Korean. "I'm sorry, but you are...?"
Sehun unhooks the mask from behind one ear, then tugs it off the other. "It's me," he repeats. "Sehun-ah."
The reunion does not go well.
Because he's nervous, Sehun ends up calling En Teahouse "a tiny little place in the middle of nowhere" (he meant "charming" and "secluded") and "pretty dark inside" (he only wanted to see more of Aki's face while they were talking).
"This is my sensei's teahouse," Aki says quietly. "It has always been this way."
Sehun is also fidgety, his limbs jerking unpredictably like a wooden puppet's. They haven't been in the teahouse for more than two minutes before he knocks over a display of delicate tea whisks while trying to take off his hat. Two of them are crushed under his boots as he reels back to avoid the rest.
"Don't worry, I'll buy them all," is how the prince says he's sorry. He means well, but it comes out arrogant.
Minseok apologizes for him in Korean, while Luhan does the same in Japanese.
"These tea whisks are handmade from a single piece of bamboo," Aki informs him in the same quiet voice. "They are carved so precisely, the carver can only produce five of them in a whole day's work."
"Do you mean they're expensive?" Sehun asks, not quite getting it. "I brought my credit card with me..."
"They're not expensive," Aki replies, "but they are precious."
Finally, because he is pressed for small talk in the short amount of time they have before Aki's class begins, Sehun stumbles into the final offense.
He asks her, "So you've been studying this tea ceremony stuff for how long now?"
"Almost three years," Aki replies. "I've been training after school since I was eighteen."
"Wow, three years," Sehun says, and his voice is an obnoxious clap inside the teahouse's tranquil walls. "Don't you get bored with it?"
Minseok and Luhan grimace at the exact same moment.
Aki only smiles and says, "Not at all."
If Minseok wasn't a bodyguard trained to read facial expressions for intent, he would have probably missed the tiny hardening at the corner of Aki's mouth. Other than that, her bare face betrays nothing but politeness.
"Can I come see you again tomorrow?" Sehun asks when Aki's guests finally arrive. This means he has to put his mask back on.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Aki tells him softly.
"Why not?" Sehun's brow furrows, the way it does when he doesn't get his way. "Are you busy with work again?"
"It's my rest day, Your Highness," she murmurs. Sehun grows rigid when his title falls from her lips.
"Why are you calling me that?" he demands. "You know you don't have to. And you never used to--don't you remember?"
"I do remember," Aki says. "But you're not who you used to be."
Sehun shuts himself into his room when they get back to the ryokan and tells both his bodyguards he needs some time.
Minseok doesn't even realize Luhan is trailing after him until he slides open the door to his room, nudges off his sneakers, and hears the knock on the door frame.
"Kim," the Chinese bodyguard says uncertainly. "Can I come in?"
The room is warm and Minseok wants to seal the door shut already so it gets even warmer. He answers, "Sure."
Their socked feet scrape soothingly against the woven matting. Minseok pulls off his gloves and slips out of his coat before padding over to the little tea trolley, where he busies himself with the electronic kettle.
"What are your thoughts on this whole situation?" Luhan asks. Minseok notices he hasn't sat down, so he gestures to the upholstered throw pillows by the window. Luhan arranges himself on them carefully and looks back with rapt attention. There is also a touch of gratefulness there that Minseok doesn't notice.
"He's just a kid," Minseok replies. "He doesn't know how to woo anyone."
"How would you do it?"
"Me?"
"Yeah." Luhan's looking at him intently. "If you were the prince, how would you get a girl like that?"
Minseok think of his first and only girlfriend, Li Na, whom he'd dated throughout high school and lost his virginity to when they were both sixteen. Aki reminds him a little of her, with her simple beauty, fresh like spring.
"If I were Prince Sehun, I would...act less like Prince Jongin."
Luhan chuckles. "It's like he was possessed earlier. He never acts that way."
"Never," Minseok agrees. "He just wants to impress her, really--"
"--but he just ends up insulting her." Luhan shakes his head. "Times like these, I don't miss being twenty-one." He mutters something else under his breath.
Minseok lets an amused sound escape him. "Speaking from personal experience?"
Luhan balks. "You heard me?"
"'But the same thing happens when you're twenty-nine, anyway.' That's what you said, right?"
The other bodyguard looks uncomfortable, and his tongue skates out between his lips. "Yeah. How'd you--"
"Sharp ears," Minseok replies, tugging on one for emphasis.
An odd feeling comes over him as he's doing it, like it's someone else standing in his place, joking around with his partner. It dawns on him that in the year they've worked together, this is the friendliest he's ever been with Luhan. The hand at his ear drops. Somehow--and he doesn't know when, where, or why--he's let his guard down.
And it's not so bad.
Luhan decides to clear his throat just then, almost like he's thinking the same thing. "Going back to the prince," he says, "I was thinking maybe we should stage an intervention."
Minseok takes to this new direction. "How?"
"You know, give him a few pointers. Show him a few tricks. That sort of thing."
Minseok thinks of Li Na, who'd cried when he'd broken up with her before leaving for the academy, but said she'd always love him. "I don't know," he tells Luhan. "I'm not very good with women."
"Well, I'm not saying I am," Luhan laughs. "I mean, I prefer men, but--"
"Me, too," Minseok lets slip, just as Luhan concludes, "The same things apply to most relationships."
And then there is silence.
It's similar to the one that had blossomed between him and Li Na, Minseok recalls, the day he'd come out to her. After that, her tears had streamed, and she'd clung to him as he'd held her tight and told her he was sorry.
"You prefer men?" Luhan finally asks, voice levelled and casual.
"Yes," Minseok replies. "But you're right, the same things do apply."
"Yes," Luhan repeats after him. "I didn't know that about you."
Minseok hums, feeling strange again. "So what's the plan?"
Luhan's eyelids flutter a few times. Focus creeps back into his pupils. "The plan. Right. Yes. Okay. Here's what I was thinking."
They chat for another hour, just the two of them, and it's a new record. Sure, they discuss Operation Aki, but they also end up talking about other things. How Minseok's father had also worked for the royal guard, and how his son grew up wanting to be just like Dad. How Luhan had lived around the world as a child--learning to bike in Beijing, falling off skateboards in California, cramming into trains in Tokyo. How, as a budding adult, he'd chosen to stay in Seoul when his parents moved back to China.
"My first year in Korea, my class got to visit the academy on a field trip," Luhan shares. "I don't know why, but before we'd left that day, I'd already decided to attend." He grins lopsidedly. "Good thing they were accepting foreigners when I applied. Would've broken my heart otherwise."
Later, when they've already moved on to another topic, Luhan scratches at his nape and muses, "It's funny how we never met at the academy." He pauses to let that dissolve in the air, and Minseok brushes his thumb against his teacup until Luhan goes on with whatever he was saying.
"I like Manchester, too," Minseok tells him, when football comes up.
"That's awesome," Luhan says, eyes shining and full of pleasure. "That's so great."
Luhan's kind of...great, too. Minseok will admit it. There's no dramatic flourish when he resolves to stop being such a jerk, no triumphant soundtrack to denote the shift, like in the movies. The more he talks with Luhan, the more he realizes there's nothing that deserves it. Simple as that.
"We'll start the operation tomorrow," Luhan declares, right before he leaves. His eyes trail down to Minseok's neck, which is still wrapped in the plaid muffler.
"Oh, right," Minseok says, feeling the weight of the scarf for the first time. "I didn't realize I was still wearing this. Here--" His hands move to take it off. But Luhan shakes his head, and one of his own hands comes up to press the scarf against Minseok's collarbones. He draws it back hurriedly.
"Keep it," Luhan replies, looking away. "I have another one just like it."
Part 2