[fic] SuperJunior - "Painted as Opposites" (1/?)
Title: Painted as Opposites [Chapter 1]
Author: phasera
Pairing: Siwon/Donghae
Summary: (AU) Loosely inspired by the k-drama Princess Hours.
Chapters: o1 | o2 | o3 | o4 | o5 | o6 | o7 | o8 | o9 | 10 | #
Note: This story is incomplete, and I will not be working on it anytime soon. I appreciate the readers who still enjoy this story, and I'm sorry I cannot promise you a conclusion.
---------------------------Chapter 1--------------------------
"Time to rise and shine, your Highness."
As he did every morning, Prince Siwon woke to the sounds of Yesung, his highly overpaid personal secretary, whipping back the curtains in his bedroom and calling out to him in mocking sing-song. And as he did every morning, Siwon rolled over, buried his face underneath his pillow, and contemplated replacing his secretary with a trained monkey and an alarm clock.
Allowing himself twenty extra seconds of indolent lounging, Swion kept his eyes squeezed shut and reached for the threads of the dream he'd been having. It had been a good dream, for once. There might have been another boy-maybe Hankyung?-but he couldn't remember clearly, and so he let it go with a vague wistful feeling.
Finally he got out of bed, feet automatically finding his slippers, arms stretching out for the robe that Yesung slipped over his shoulders while reciting the day's schedules. "First order of business: their Majesties wish to see you over breakfast, Highness, to discuss a matter relating to your upcoming birthday."
Siwon was briefly startled, because he'd forgotten about that. As he got washed and dressed he counted up the days and realized it was true-in less than a week he'd be turning twenty-one years old. He sat on his bed to tie his shoes, movements uncharacteristically slow as he wondered what birthday-related matter his parents would possibly have to discuss at the eleventh hour. Likely not party plans or dealings of that sort-everything had been arranged for it months in advance: the guests already invited, the gifts already bought and wrapped, the caterers and musicians already hired.
Every birthday since he'd turned sixteen had felt more and more like a national holiday than an actual birthday, and Siwon had accordingly come to care less and less about them; it wasn't at all surprising that he'd practically forgotten about this year's event. Well, it was probably nothing to worry about; perhaps one of the caterers had canceled and they wanted him to approve a last-minute menu change. He thought that it could be nothing cataclysmic, surely.
Of course, as it turned out, Siwon couldn't have been more wrong.
*
"Siwon, we're very sorry, but you're going to have to get married," the Queen announced. The prince nearly spit out his tea. He lifted a linen napkin to his mouth and blinked at his mother from behind it, wondering if she could have possibly just said what he'd thought she'd said.
"I have to..." Siwon cleared his throat, finding it had suddenly gone dry. "Sorry, Mother, but could you please say that again?"
To her credit, the Queen actually looked apologetic towards her son, or at the very least sympathetic to his plight. The elaborate hair pieces in her traditional wig trembled as she spoke, and while she would never indulge in an unseemly habitat such as twisting a napkin or biting her nails, her hands were clutched together rather where she had them folded neatly in her lap.
"Apparently there was a betrothal contract drawn up years ago by your esteemed Grandfather and an close friend of his-a contract that he'd never spoken of to anyone but your Uncle, because the agreement only involved his heir, your cousin Kibum-" At this point the Queen faltered, seemingly unsure of how to continue.
The King picked up the thread of the tale, his own hand moving to enfold both of the Queen's in a comforting gesture. "Your Grandfather's health has suffered greatly since my brother's death; the last time I spoke with him was the first he'd ever mentioned about anything regarding that incident." Moving slowly, Siwon's father placed his other hand flat on the dining table, sliding something towards his son; when he lifted up his palm, a silver ring lay glinting against the polished surface of the wood. The King nodded towards it. "Last week, your Grandfather gave me that ring and told me about the contract. I went to the Palace's lawyers to check, and it's true: such a document does exist. And it it still legally binding."
Siwon stared at the ring, but didn't touch it. Hearing Kibum's name from his mother's lips had been like a kick to the stomach; for years Siwon's family had treated his Uncle's wife and son as if they were dead instead of exiled. "My cousin," he said, his tongue feeling heavy and slow. "You said the arranged betrothal was meant for him."
"It was meant for the Crown Prince, Siwon. That has been your title for five years now."
Though he felt reluctant right down through to his bones, Siwon at last picked up the ring and examined it. It was plainly designed, just a simple band with an etching around the inside that said Honor, Friendship, and Love.
"Your esteemed Grandfather had two of those rings made to seal the contract," the Queen told him, her voice gentle as if to soften the blow. "The other one is carried by the grandchild of his friend. Apparently the friend once did a great service for him, and this was your Grandfather's way of repaying the debt."
But he doesn't have to pay anything, Siwon thought, uncharitably. A second later he recanted it, feeling guilty. If it was a debt to be returned, then it was a matter of family honor. He blew out his breath in a sharp exhale, the only outward sign of his conflict and frustration. He knew his parents were waiting for his reply, but a tight knot had appeared in his throat and the only word he could force out around it was: "When?"
"As soon as possible. Perhaps even upon your birthday, provided you and the girl are both willing."
From childhood, Siwon had understood that the partner of his inevitable marriage would be chosen for him, but he'd always been led to expect that after much deliberation and with his own consult, his parents would elect upon some cultured, beautiful girl with good background, breeding, and manners. And he'd been led to expect that the engagement could last years, allowing the two of them the time to become acquainted before having to be officially bound by marriage.
Now the King and Queen were telling him that by the end of the week, he was going to be wed to a complete stranger; probably a commoner, an average girl of no particular familial, social, or educational background. Someone he'd never even heard of before. Someone he would have no idea how to relate to; someone who would have no idea how to relate to him. He couldn't imagine a more awkward or nightmarish situation with which to start a lifelong relationship.
He looked down at the ring he still held, thinking about the inscription. If this marriage really were to happen, it would be the biggest damned cosmic joke of the century.
"We are truly sorry, Siwon," his Mother told him quietly, interrupting his gloomy reverie. "We know this must be a shock, and we would never ask this of you in other circumstances."
"Our people are currently tracking down the family of your Grandfather's friend. They're very close and we expect to have all the information and the identity of the girl by no later than this evening," the King added.
They didn't even know the name of the girl yet. Siwon laughed once, almost soundlessly, and then he stood up. "Mother, Father, please excuse me. I will be late for class if I don't leave soon." Hesitating a moment, Siwon finally slipped the ring into his pocket; he couldn't bear just then to wear it.
His mother put a hand out to stop him, looking worried. "But Siwon, you haven't said a word yet about any of this."
The Prince smiled tightly, his back and shoulders ramrod straight as only a childhood filled with lessons on posture could provide. "There's nothing to be said. I understand what's expected of me."
Bowing shortly, he turned his back on the King and Queen's troubled faces and left the dining suite, heading towards the side exit of the palace where his car and chauffeur were waiting to drive him to school. When he was standing in the driveway, Yesung came over, wordlessly handing Siwon his school bag and jacket. Siwon eyed his secretary with suspicion, wondering if he knew what Siwon's parents had just told him.
Just then two young maids passed by, heading towards the kitchens with a load of groceries. As usually happened, they began giggling and whispering when they caught sight of the prince.
"Can you believe his Highness is getting engaged?" one girl squealed to the other, obviously mistakenly thinking they were out of Siwon's earshot. Of course, they knew about it. Gossip traveled faster than wildfire within the palace halls; sometimes it even seemed as if the servants knew everything that was going to happen before his own family did.
"It's so romantic," cooed the maid's friend. "I wonder who she'll be? Does she have any idea right now how lucky she is?" At this, both of the maids sighed rapturously, making huge doe eyes at the prince as he pretended to be deaf and slipped into the back seat of the car.
Gritting his teeth, Siwon yanked the door shut with more force than was really necessary. He never should have gotten out of bed that morning.
~*~
"It's a masterpiece, Donghae."
Stepping back to survey his work, Donghae grinned and swiped his hand across his forehead, blissfully unaware that he was leaving a bright blue streak of paint on his face and that it wasn't the only one. He turned to look back at his roommates, saluting them both with his still-wet paintbrush.
"I can only take one-third of the credit, though," he said, walking back to the two of them and slinging an arm over both of their shoulders so that they could all admire their creation together. Hyukjae didn't even bother to complain about the brush Donghae held that was now dripping onto his t-shirt; after three or so hours of painting, they were all pretty much spattered from head-to-toe with different colors.
"Do you think the Dean will appreciate our genius?" Sungmin chuckled, holding up his cell phone to snap a few pictures of their university's atrium, his tangle of phone-straps glittering in the early-morning sunlight as he captured their mural in digital form. Such preservation was needful, because the artwork in question would probably be completely washed off by lunchtime.
Hyukjae sighed, shaking his head with a mock-martyred air. "No, he won't be able to understand it. We're too far ahead of our time. Like Van Gogh, in a way."
Donghae's bubbling feeling of triumph began to deflate somewhat as he wistfully contemplated the 20-foot tall mural that was doomed to a short lifespan. He and his friends had woken up before dawn to be able to finish it on time-he'd actually sacrificed sleep for this project. The professors who despaired over him would have been proud. Or they'd have wondered why he couldn't put the same about of effort into studying.
Sungmin checked the time on the face of his cellphone. "Crap, you guys, we need to move it. Classes start in ten minutes."
Cursing and springing into motion, the three boys hustled to collect their many scattered paint cans, brushes, rags and buckets, ferrying all the incriminating items into a nearby maintenance shed, which Donghae had luckily had the foresight to pick the lock of the night before.
Students and professors were already trickling towards the atrium as the three of them were still stashing the evidence and slinging their backpacks onto their shoulders. Luckily, the atrium wasn't situated on a central part of the campus or they'd have been discovered much earlier. Hiding behind a clump of bushes and muffling laughter in their sleeves, they watched with voyeuristic glee as their fellow students pointed and exclaimed over the mural; Donghae even saw a few of them whip out cameras and cellphones to snap pictures of their own.
Even as the clock tower tolled out eight o'clock, the bells echoing almost reproachfully through the air, a large crowd still clustered around the mural, unwilling to leave the mysterious spectacle for their undoubtedly less interesting morning lectures.
Sungmin, who had smudges of pink paint on both cheeks and in his buttery-blonde hair, still managed to look smug over their accomplishment. "We're going to be legendary after this, just watch."
Donghae hummed agreement, running his fingers through his own hair to retie the short ponytail that held it back and which perpetually came loose. His fingers snagged on dried bits of paint and made him wince, but that couldn't stop him from whole-heartedly returning his roommates' grins. "Hey, it's our senior year-we've got to go out with a bang, right?"
"Of course. Otherwise, what did all those student loans actually pay for?" Hyukjae snorted. "A bachelor's degree in modern art that means shit in the real world?"
"Or a musical arts degree," Sungmin added, resting his chin on Hyukjae's shoulder. Sungmin and Donghae were both co-majoring in art and music.
"We could always form a band and get famous," Donghae said, waggling an eyebrow. It was an oft-discussed topic among them. "We could call ourselves The Painting Gorillas!"
"Um, Donghae, do you mean guerrillas?" Sungmin said. Hyukjae cracked up laughing, but cut it off with a choking sound as an inhumanly loud bellowing split through the morning air.
"Just what the hell is going on here?"
A massively bear of a man came storming up the walkway, red in the face as he glared at the mural, running up to the atrium windows with all the fury-and musculature to match-of a charging rhinoceros. Their school's infamous Dean Kang Ho Dong himself.
"That portrait of him is so accurate," Sungmin whispered, giggling as they cowered further into their suddenly too-thin cluster of shrubbery.
"Why thank you," Hyukjae replied.
"Shhh," Donghae hushed them, carefully watching the fox-sharp and familiar face of the school's assistant dean, the man in charge of disciplinary matters. Donghae had seen the inside of his office more than once, and tried to avoid the experience whenever possible. The assistant dean stood amongst the other school administrators that had arrived at the atrium in Dean Ho Dong's wake, scanning the surrounding crowd with narrowed, beady eyes. He was said to be able to sniff out a student's guilty conscience at a hundred paces.
Donghae fought off the instinct to flee as the assistant dean's gaze swept over there hiding place. He stayed where he was, nervously fidgeting with the silver ring on his right hand, his thumb spinning it round and round on his index finger. It had belonged to his grandfather, who had given it to Donghae in turn; on Donghae's slender fingers the ring had always been a bit loose, but he'd never once lost it.
Sungmin picked up on his anxiety and followed his gaze. "Hey, relax," Sungmin whispered. "There's no way they can prove it was us, right?"
The three boys stared at each other, then at each other's mussed and paint-spattered outfits. Then their eyes simultaneously went wide as they realized the one key item they'd left out in every stage of planning for this: a change of clothes.
"We're art students," Sungmin muttered, finally showing a hint of anxiety. "It's normal for us to look like this."
Even so, all three of them flinched like startled deer as Dean Ho Dong's next pronouncement came booming out across the lawn.
"Probation, suspension, expulsion!" Ho Dong barked, making no few of the students in the crowd jump and begin to inch away from. "I have the power of life and death over all of you impertinent hooligans!" The man straightened, adding even more inches to his already imposing height to glower more effectively. "But if the perpetrators of this crime step forward of their own choice, I promise to be somewhat lenient."
Hyukjae was wringing his hands. He'd always been the weakest link in their trio; the one their teachers and parents had tried to crack first. "Maybe we should-" He started to rise, but Sungmin and Donghae quickly yanked him down, hissing for him to shut up and stay put.
"So what the hell are we gonna do?" Hyukjae hissed back, glaring at Donghae in a way that clearly communicated: this is all your fault.
Well, to be fair, the original idea for the mural had been Donghae's idea. But they had encouraged him. They should have known better than that by now.
Donghae gripped Hyukjae's shoulders bracingly. "We'll be fine, okay? You guys, trust me."
Sungmin and Hyukjae exchanged a glance, and then groaned. "I hate it when he says that."
His friends obviously had enormous faith in him. But Donghae let it slide, and instead looked around, assessing and dismissing various escape routes. "There," he hissed, pointing to a small woodsy path that led back to the main part of the campus. If they could just somehow manage to get away from the scene of the crime unnoticed, then they could slip in amongst all the other students going to class and be disguised.
"Now all we need is a really good distraction," he muttered, thinking aloud.
As if in answer to a prayer, one of the girls in the crowd suddenly shrieked, flailing and pointing towards the walkway that bent around the atrium. "The Prince!" she squealed, and a dozen other girls immediately took up the cry.
"The Prince is here?"
"Oh my god, Prince Siwon, oh my god!"
It was common knowledge that Prince Siwon was a student at their university (probably for the simple fact that is was located so near to the Royal Palace); but unfortunately for him, it was the start of a new term, and there were still hundreds of freshmen who hadn't yet become immune to his day-to-day presence. Within seconds of stepping out of his vehicle, the poised young man was swamped.
Or course, the prince's security team often took steps to have their charge be discreet and non-visible on campus; steps like using back entrances and walkways whenever possible. But today, as it just so happened, there was a large gathering of students in the back entrance to the campus where he normally went to disembark.
Donghae had seen the prince before, but only once or twice-he was a Political Science and Economics major, and that college occupied a separate portion of the university, neatly divided from the Liberal Arts colleges where Donghae and his friends spent most of their time.
Donghae couldn't help it-he stared, still catching only a glimpse of Prince Siwon before he was blocked from sight by his security team and the crowd of students that had rushed him. The Dean and the other administrators also gawked at the spectacle, none of them yet moving to try and help. If Donghae hadn't felt a little bit sorry for the prince, he might have laughed himself sick at the sight of Dean Ho Dong's eyes almost bulging out of his head, no doubt horrified that royalty was about to be witness to his humiliation.
Then hands were pulling at Donghae's arms and shoulders, pulling him up and out of the bushes. "C'mon, c'mon, this is our chance," Sungmin and Hyukjae both hissed at him, and Donghae turned away, allowing himself to be led off. He turned around at the top of the pathway, wanting either one last look at either the mural or one last look at the prince-he wasn't sure which-but instead Donghae found himself locking eyes with none other than the assistant dean.
The scowl on the man's face stretched into a sinister leer, and he raised one hand in a mocking salute. No doubt of it, he'd seen them.
"Um, you guys?" Donghae choked out, panic bubbling in his chest along with a fit of what would no doubt have been hysteric laughter should he have chosen to let it loose. "We should probably start running now."
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© 2007
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a/n: special thanks to ch_ar_me for helping me out by betaing this chapter.
6/01/2010 - this chapter is the edited and reposted version of the original.
Author: phasera
Pairing: Siwon/Donghae
Summary: (AU) Loosely inspired by the k-drama Princess Hours.
Chapters: o1 | o2 | o3 | o4 | o5 | o6 | o7 | o8 | o9 | 10 | #
Note: This story is incomplete, and I will not be working on it anytime soon. I appreciate the readers who still enjoy this story, and I'm sorry I cannot promise you a conclusion.
---------------------------Chapter 1--------------------------
"Time to rise and shine, your Highness."
As he did every morning, Prince Siwon woke to the sounds of Yesung, his highly overpaid personal secretary, whipping back the curtains in his bedroom and calling out to him in mocking sing-song. And as he did every morning, Siwon rolled over, buried his face underneath his pillow, and contemplated replacing his secretary with a trained monkey and an alarm clock.
Allowing himself twenty extra seconds of indolent lounging, Swion kept his eyes squeezed shut and reached for the threads of the dream he'd been having. It had been a good dream, for once. There might have been another boy-maybe Hankyung?-but he couldn't remember clearly, and so he let it go with a vague wistful feeling.
Finally he got out of bed, feet automatically finding his slippers, arms stretching out for the robe that Yesung slipped over his shoulders while reciting the day's schedules. "First order of business: their Majesties wish to see you over breakfast, Highness, to discuss a matter relating to your upcoming birthday."
Siwon was briefly startled, because he'd forgotten about that. As he got washed and dressed he counted up the days and realized it was true-in less than a week he'd be turning twenty-one years old. He sat on his bed to tie his shoes, movements uncharacteristically slow as he wondered what birthday-related matter his parents would possibly have to discuss at the eleventh hour. Likely not party plans or dealings of that sort-everything had been arranged for it months in advance: the guests already invited, the gifts already bought and wrapped, the caterers and musicians already hired.
Every birthday since he'd turned sixteen had felt more and more like a national holiday than an actual birthday, and Siwon had accordingly come to care less and less about them; it wasn't at all surprising that he'd practically forgotten about this year's event. Well, it was probably nothing to worry about; perhaps one of the caterers had canceled and they wanted him to approve a last-minute menu change. He thought that it could be nothing cataclysmic, surely.
Of course, as it turned out, Siwon couldn't have been more wrong.
*
"Siwon, we're very sorry, but you're going to have to get married," the Queen announced. The prince nearly spit out his tea. He lifted a linen napkin to his mouth and blinked at his mother from behind it, wondering if she could have possibly just said what he'd thought she'd said.
"I have to..." Siwon cleared his throat, finding it had suddenly gone dry. "Sorry, Mother, but could you please say that again?"
To her credit, the Queen actually looked apologetic towards her son, or at the very least sympathetic to his plight. The elaborate hair pieces in her traditional wig trembled as she spoke, and while she would never indulge in an unseemly habitat such as twisting a napkin or biting her nails, her hands were clutched together rather where she had them folded neatly in her lap.
"Apparently there was a betrothal contract drawn up years ago by your esteemed Grandfather and an close friend of his-a contract that he'd never spoken of to anyone but your Uncle, because the agreement only involved his heir, your cousin Kibum-" At this point the Queen faltered, seemingly unsure of how to continue.
The King picked up the thread of the tale, his own hand moving to enfold both of the Queen's in a comforting gesture. "Your Grandfather's health has suffered greatly since my brother's death; the last time I spoke with him was the first he'd ever mentioned about anything regarding that incident." Moving slowly, Siwon's father placed his other hand flat on the dining table, sliding something towards his son; when he lifted up his palm, a silver ring lay glinting against the polished surface of the wood. The King nodded towards it. "Last week, your Grandfather gave me that ring and told me about the contract. I went to the Palace's lawyers to check, and it's true: such a document does exist. And it it still legally binding."
Siwon stared at the ring, but didn't touch it. Hearing Kibum's name from his mother's lips had been like a kick to the stomach; for years Siwon's family had treated his Uncle's wife and son as if they were dead instead of exiled. "My cousin," he said, his tongue feeling heavy and slow. "You said the arranged betrothal was meant for him."
"It was meant for the Crown Prince, Siwon. That has been your title for five years now."
Though he felt reluctant right down through to his bones, Siwon at last picked up the ring and examined it. It was plainly designed, just a simple band with an etching around the inside that said Honor, Friendship, and Love.
"Your esteemed Grandfather had two of those rings made to seal the contract," the Queen told him, her voice gentle as if to soften the blow. "The other one is carried by the grandchild of his friend. Apparently the friend once did a great service for him, and this was your Grandfather's way of repaying the debt."
But he doesn't have to pay anything, Siwon thought, uncharitably. A second later he recanted it, feeling guilty. If it was a debt to be returned, then it was a matter of family honor. He blew out his breath in a sharp exhale, the only outward sign of his conflict and frustration. He knew his parents were waiting for his reply, but a tight knot had appeared in his throat and the only word he could force out around it was: "When?"
"As soon as possible. Perhaps even upon your birthday, provided you and the girl are both willing."
From childhood, Siwon had understood that the partner of his inevitable marriage would be chosen for him, but he'd always been led to expect that after much deliberation and with his own consult, his parents would elect upon some cultured, beautiful girl with good background, breeding, and manners. And he'd been led to expect that the engagement could last years, allowing the two of them the time to become acquainted before having to be officially bound by marriage.
Now the King and Queen were telling him that by the end of the week, he was going to be wed to a complete stranger; probably a commoner, an average girl of no particular familial, social, or educational background. Someone he'd never even heard of before. Someone he would have no idea how to relate to; someone who would have no idea how to relate to him. He couldn't imagine a more awkward or nightmarish situation with which to start a lifelong relationship.
He looked down at the ring he still held, thinking about the inscription. If this marriage really were to happen, it would be the biggest damned cosmic joke of the century.
"We are truly sorry, Siwon," his Mother told him quietly, interrupting his gloomy reverie. "We know this must be a shock, and we would never ask this of you in other circumstances."
"Our people are currently tracking down the family of your Grandfather's friend. They're very close and we expect to have all the information and the identity of the girl by no later than this evening," the King added.
They didn't even know the name of the girl yet. Siwon laughed once, almost soundlessly, and then he stood up. "Mother, Father, please excuse me. I will be late for class if I don't leave soon." Hesitating a moment, Siwon finally slipped the ring into his pocket; he couldn't bear just then to wear it.
His mother put a hand out to stop him, looking worried. "But Siwon, you haven't said a word yet about any of this."
The Prince smiled tightly, his back and shoulders ramrod straight as only a childhood filled with lessons on posture could provide. "There's nothing to be said. I understand what's expected of me."
Bowing shortly, he turned his back on the King and Queen's troubled faces and left the dining suite, heading towards the side exit of the palace where his car and chauffeur were waiting to drive him to school. When he was standing in the driveway, Yesung came over, wordlessly handing Siwon his school bag and jacket. Siwon eyed his secretary with suspicion, wondering if he knew what Siwon's parents had just told him.
Just then two young maids passed by, heading towards the kitchens with a load of groceries. As usually happened, they began giggling and whispering when they caught sight of the prince.
"Can you believe his Highness is getting engaged?" one girl squealed to the other, obviously mistakenly thinking they were out of Siwon's earshot. Of course, they knew about it. Gossip traveled faster than wildfire within the palace halls; sometimes it even seemed as if the servants knew everything that was going to happen before his own family did.
"It's so romantic," cooed the maid's friend. "I wonder who she'll be? Does she have any idea right now how lucky she is?" At this, both of the maids sighed rapturously, making huge doe eyes at the prince as he pretended to be deaf and slipped into the back seat of the car.
Gritting his teeth, Siwon yanked the door shut with more force than was really necessary. He never should have gotten out of bed that morning.
~*~
"It's a masterpiece, Donghae."
Stepping back to survey his work, Donghae grinned and swiped his hand across his forehead, blissfully unaware that he was leaving a bright blue streak of paint on his face and that it wasn't the only one. He turned to look back at his roommates, saluting them both with his still-wet paintbrush.
"I can only take one-third of the credit, though," he said, walking back to the two of them and slinging an arm over both of their shoulders so that they could all admire their creation together. Hyukjae didn't even bother to complain about the brush Donghae held that was now dripping onto his t-shirt; after three or so hours of painting, they were all pretty much spattered from head-to-toe with different colors.
"Do you think the Dean will appreciate our genius?" Sungmin chuckled, holding up his cell phone to snap a few pictures of their university's atrium, his tangle of phone-straps glittering in the early-morning sunlight as he captured their mural in digital form. Such preservation was needful, because the artwork in question would probably be completely washed off by lunchtime.
Hyukjae sighed, shaking his head with a mock-martyred air. "No, he won't be able to understand it. We're too far ahead of our time. Like Van Gogh, in a way."
Donghae's bubbling feeling of triumph began to deflate somewhat as he wistfully contemplated the 20-foot tall mural that was doomed to a short lifespan. He and his friends had woken up before dawn to be able to finish it on time-he'd actually sacrificed sleep for this project. The professors who despaired over him would have been proud. Or they'd have wondered why he couldn't put the same about of effort into studying.
Sungmin checked the time on the face of his cellphone. "Crap, you guys, we need to move it. Classes start in ten minutes."
Cursing and springing into motion, the three boys hustled to collect their many scattered paint cans, brushes, rags and buckets, ferrying all the incriminating items into a nearby maintenance shed, which Donghae had luckily had the foresight to pick the lock of the night before.
Students and professors were already trickling towards the atrium as the three of them were still stashing the evidence and slinging their backpacks onto their shoulders. Luckily, the atrium wasn't situated on a central part of the campus or they'd have been discovered much earlier. Hiding behind a clump of bushes and muffling laughter in their sleeves, they watched with voyeuristic glee as their fellow students pointed and exclaimed over the mural; Donghae even saw a few of them whip out cameras and cellphones to snap pictures of their own.
Even as the clock tower tolled out eight o'clock, the bells echoing almost reproachfully through the air, a large crowd still clustered around the mural, unwilling to leave the mysterious spectacle for their undoubtedly less interesting morning lectures.
Sungmin, who had smudges of pink paint on both cheeks and in his buttery-blonde hair, still managed to look smug over their accomplishment. "We're going to be legendary after this, just watch."
Donghae hummed agreement, running his fingers through his own hair to retie the short ponytail that held it back and which perpetually came loose. His fingers snagged on dried bits of paint and made him wince, but that couldn't stop him from whole-heartedly returning his roommates' grins. "Hey, it's our senior year-we've got to go out with a bang, right?"
"Of course. Otherwise, what did all those student loans actually pay for?" Hyukjae snorted. "A bachelor's degree in modern art that means shit in the real world?"
"Or a musical arts degree," Sungmin added, resting his chin on Hyukjae's shoulder. Sungmin and Donghae were both co-majoring in art and music.
"We could always form a band and get famous," Donghae said, waggling an eyebrow. It was an oft-discussed topic among them. "We could call ourselves The Painting Gorillas!"
"Um, Donghae, do you mean guerrillas?" Sungmin said. Hyukjae cracked up laughing, but cut it off with a choking sound as an inhumanly loud bellowing split through the morning air.
"Just what the hell is going on here?"
A massively bear of a man came storming up the walkway, red in the face as he glared at the mural, running up to the atrium windows with all the fury-and musculature to match-of a charging rhinoceros. Their school's infamous Dean Kang Ho Dong himself.
"That portrait of him is so accurate," Sungmin whispered, giggling as they cowered further into their suddenly too-thin cluster of shrubbery.
"Why thank you," Hyukjae replied.
"Shhh," Donghae hushed them, carefully watching the fox-sharp and familiar face of the school's assistant dean, the man in charge of disciplinary matters. Donghae had seen the inside of his office more than once, and tried to avoid the experience whenever possible. The assistant dean stood amongst the other school administrators that had arrived at the atrium in Dean Ho Dong's wake, scanning the surrounding crowd with narrowed, beady eyes. He was said to be able to sniff out a student's guilty conscience at a hundred paces.
Donghae fought off the instinct to flee as the assistant dean's gaze swept over there hiding place. He stayed where he was, nervously fidgeting with the silver ring on his right hand, his thumb spinning it round and round on his index finger. It had belonged to his grandfather, who had given it to Donghae in turn; on Donghae's slender fingers the ring had always been a bit loose, but he'd never once lost it.
Sungmin picked up on his anxiety and followed his gaze. "Hey, relax," Sungmin whispered. "There's no way they can prove it was us, right?"
The three boys stared at each other, then at each other's mussed and paint-spattered outfits. Then their eyes simultaneously went wide as they realized the one key item they'd left out in every stage of planning for this: a change of clothes.
"We're art students," Sungmin muttered, finally showing a hint of anxiety. "It's normal for us to look like this."
Even so, all three of them flinched like startled deer as Dean Ho Dong's next pronouncement came booming out across the lawn.
"Probation, suspension, expulsion!" Ho Dong barked, making no few of the students in the crowd jump and begin to inch away from. "I have the power of life and death over all of you impertinent hooligans!" The man straightened, adding even more inches to his already imposing height to glower more effectively. "But if the perpetrators of this crime step forward of their own choice, I promise to be somewhat lenient."
Hyukjae was wringing his hands. He'd always been the weakest link in their trio; the one their teachers and parents had tried to crack first. "Maybe we should-" He started to rise, but Sungmin and Donghae quickly yanked him down, hissing for him to shut up and stay put.
"So what the hell are we gonna do?" Hyukjae hissed back, glaring at Donghae in a way that clearly communicated: this is all your fault.
Well, to be fair, the original idea for the mural had been Donghae's idea. But they had encouraged him. They should have known better than that by now.
Donghae gripped Hyukjae's shoulders bracingly. "We'll be fine, okay? You guys, trust me."
Sungmin and Hyukjae exchanged a glance, and then groaned. "I hate it when he says that."
His friends obviously had enormous faith in him. But Donghae let it slide, and instead looked around, assessing and dismissing various escape routes. "There," he hissed, pointing to a small woodsy path that led back to the main part of the campus. If they could just somehow manage to get away from the scene of the crime unnoticed, then they could slip in amongst all the other students going to class and be disguised.
"Now all we need is a really good distraction," he muttered, thinking aloud.
As if in answer to a prayer, one of the girls in the crowd suddenly shrieked, flailing and pointing towards the walkway that bent around the atrium. "The Prince!" she squealed, and a dozen other girls immediately took up the cry.
"The Prince is here?"
"Oh my god, Prince Siwon, oh my god!"
It was common knowledge that Prince Siwon was a student at their university (probably for the simple fact that is was located so near to the Royal Palace); but unfortunately for him, it was the start of a new term, and there were still hundreds of freshmen who hadn't yet become immune to his day-to-day presence. Within seconds of stepping out of his vehicle, the poised young man was swamped.
Or course, the prince's security team often took steps to have their charge be discreet and non-visible on campus; steps like using back entrances and walkways whenever possible. But today, as it just so happened, there was a large gathering of students in the back entrance to the campus where he normally went to disembark.
Donghae had seen the prince before, but only once or twice-he was a Political Science and Economics major, and that college occupied a separate portion of the university, neatly divided from the Liberal Arts colleges where Donghae and his friends spent most of their time.
Donghae couldn't help it-he stared, still catching only a glimpse of Prince Siwon before he was blocked from sight by his security team and the crowd of students that had rushed him. The Dean and the other administrators also gawked at the spectacle, none of them yet moving to try and help. If Donghae hadn't felt a little bit sorry for the prince, he might have laughed himself sick at the sight of Dean Ho Dong's eyes almost bulging out of his head, no doubt horrified that royalty was about to be witness to his humiliation.
Then hands were pulling at Donghae's arms and shoulders, pulling him up and out of the bushes. "C'mon, c'mon, this is our chance," Sungmin and Hyukjae both hissed at him, and Donghae turned away, allowing himself to be led off. He turned around at the top of the pathway, wanting either one last look at either the mural or one last look at the prince-he wasn't sure which-but instead Donghae found himself locking eyes with none other than the assistant dean.
The scowl on the man's face stretched into a sinister leer, and he raised one hand in a mocking salute. No doubt of it, he'd seen them.
"Um, you guys?" Donghae choked out, panic bubbling in his chest along with a fit of what would no doubt have been hysteric laughter should he have chosen to let it loose. "We should probably start running now."
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© 2007
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a/n: special thanks to ch_ar_me for helping me out by betaing this chapter.
6/01/2010 - this chapter is the edited and reposted version of the original.