[fic] SuperJunior - "Painted as Opposites" (8/?)
Title: Painted as Opposites [Chapter 8]
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 fic, and I'm very sorry I cannot promise you a conclusion.
------------------------Chapter 8------------------------
Donghae tilted his face towards the sun while he considered, feeling the dampness on his skin already drying to salty-stickiness in the breeze. He inhaled deeply, letting the sea-scented air linger a moment in his lungs before expelling his breath. He went with an obvious choice. "Hawaii?"
Kibum shook his head, the wet strands of his hair clinging to his forehead before he brushed them back. "Depends on the island, but too touristy for me."
Donghae nodded, feeling the board underneath him rise and fall with the ocean's swells, his legs moving lazily in the blue-green water to keep him balanced. Earlier in the morning had been best for a typhoon surf, but it was getting late for good waves, so they'd been passing the time with idle conversation. He thought of another location. "What about Australia?"
Kibum's teeth flashed bright in a smile. "That one's as good as they say. But the reefs can be killer."
The nape of his neck felt hot, so Donghae splashed a handful of water down his back, feeling it trickle cold down his spine. He hummed idly, still thinking. "Oh, got one-Vietnam."
"No, never been there," Kibum conceded. "But Chiba is better, anyway."
Donghae whistled low, impressed. "So you've surfed everywhere in the world that's good to surf, pretty much." He lifted his hand, gesturing sardonically at the gentle swells around them, rippling like the humps of a camel without a hint of a break. "And now, our lovely Jeju island."
"Well, I've been coming here since I was a kid," Kibum said, then grinned with a hint of mischief. "When I used to be a prince, like you."
I'm not really a prince, Donghae thought reflexively-but there was no point in saying it, because the other boy would only try and argue semantics with him again. Instead Donghae coughed, changing the subject. "Still, that's amazing. I can't imagine living in so many different places."
Kibum shrugged, going vague the way he often did. "My mother liked to move around a lot."
They'd already been here two weeks, but Donghae hadn't learned much more about the younger boy's past than what he'd known at the beginning of the trip. But from the little he did know of Kibum's history, Donghae thought he could understand the reason for that.
He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, squinting from the glitter of the sunlight across the water. "I'm hungry," he said.
Kibum rolled his eyes. "When are you not hungry."
Donghae shrugged good-naturedly. "Should we go back?"
Kibum nodded, then smirked. "Race you," he said, and before Donghae could move, the other boy had already laid himself flat against his surfboard and begun paddling for the beach, splashing Donghae as he went.
Yelping indignantly, Donghae followed suit, and by the time they reached the shallows they were both cheating outrageously, kicking water and pulling arms and wrestling each other down. Donghae was laughing too hard and got more than one mouthful of salt-heavy seawater, but he could ignore these minor discomforts because he won anyway.
They lay side-by-side in the hot sand as they recovered, panting for breath. Kibum suddenly spoke out of nowhere, the tone of his voice subdued. "I didn't mind it so much."
Donghae, who had been lulled halfway to a doze by steady roar of the ocean, lifted his head just enough to peer at the other boy in confusion. "Hmm? Didn't mind what?"
Kibum was lying on his back, one arm flung across his eyes to block the sun. "All the moving. It wasn't so bad. It would have been worse if my mom had just dragged me anywhere, but she didn't."
Slowly, Kibum removed his arm and sat up. His gaze had gone distant, lost in memory. "She spent a long time trying to outrun her grief. But she always picked a place by the ocean, for me. So after a while I stopped keeping track of the countries, the cities, the languages-and I just had this." Kibum scooped up a handful of white sand, the fine grains slipping through his fingers like streams of water. "And that was fine, you know, I was okay with it. Wherever I was, it still felt like home."
Donghae could only hold his breath, afraid if he breathed the other boy might remember he was there and stop talking. Donghae's heart ached a little with sympathy-he wanted to reach out, put a hand on Kibum's shoulder, his back-but Donghae didn't move. He stayed still, just listening.
"Anyway," Kibum opened his hand, and brushed his palm against the damp material of his shorts. "After a few years, we settled in California." He cracked a smile, but it was weak compared to his usual. "The surfing is really good there."
Donghae worried his lower lip, wanting to ask if Kibum planned to go back there, when his visit was over-but then he remembered Kibum had never exactly said why he had come here to Korea in the first place. Maybe he was looking for something, and when he found it, he'd leave.
They hadn't known each other long, but Donghae already knew he'd miss Kibum if he left. So instead of asking, Donghae found himself babbling the first nonsense that popped into his head. "My parents named me after the sea," he said, lamely.
Kibum looked at Donghae and his smile turned genuine. "I know," he teased. "It's pretty obvious, Donghae."
Donghae got to his feet, bouncing a little to dislodge the sand from his skin, and reached down a hand to help pull the other boy up. "After the East Sea," he added in a lofty tone.
Their palms stuck together, gritty with sand and salt. When Kibum stood eye-to-eye with him once more, Donghae could see the traces of distance and gray humor were quickly fading from the other boy's face like clouds burnt away by the sun. "I know," Kibum said again, and laughed.
They retrieved their surfboards and shoes, throwing shirts on over their damp skin before hiking back along the short trail that took them directly from the private beach to the grounds of the royal family's summer manor. Donghae had been told it was almost ‘cottage-like' when compared to the grandeur and size of the palace back home-but with ten guest rooms, an indoor pool, an outdoor pool, a personal gym, a tennis court, a game room, three sitting rooms (green, blue, and gold), a banquet hall, and even a ballroom-Donghae had a hard time conceiving of the ‘modest residence' as anything other than a second palace, just sized-down. The view from the large floor-to-ceiling windows in all of the sea-facing rooms was pretty spectacular, too.
After rinsing off and changing clothes, the two of them donned baseball caps and sunglasses and rode Kibum's motorcycle to the nearby village, five miles away. It was a picturesque little place, if a tourist-trap. But the boys didn't mind, because they didn't stand out from the crowd at all. Not once had someone pointed a finger or called out to Donghae with recognition. He had to admit being anonymous again had made him feel almost weightless with relief, the burden of that media-massacre from before easing off his shoulders as it faded from his mind.
They ate lunch at their favorite noodle-shop and afterward just meandered around the town, happily incognito as they browsed the local marketplace with the rest of the weekend crowd. Donghae already had bags full of souvenirs to take back to Sungmin and Hyukjae from the past two weeks-mostly as an apology for the fact that their apartment building was still being staked out by paparazzi-but he could never resist getting more.
Donghae and Kibum headed back to the manor as the sun was beginning to set, strolling along the narrow dirt road, with Kibum pushing his bike and Donghae plucking tangerines from the trees and eating them while they walked, the smell of citrus sharp in his nose and his fingers getting stickier by the minute. Not a single car, bicycle, or person passed them by as they went.
Being in Jeju was like being in a world apart from reality-and as much as he hated to admit it, Donghae had been enjoying himself. At least for the most part.
Kyuhyun-who had come along ostensibly as their supervision, though he was younger than Donghae and Kibum both-met them at the door as they arrived back. "The prince called while you were out," he informed Donghae, whose insides twisted in immediate reaction.
"Did he-should I call him back, did he say?"
Kyuhyun shook his head. "Prince Siwon merely said to inform you of his call, and that he would try again later tonight."
"Oh," was all Donghae could think to say, trying to ignore the disappointment churning in his stomach. After a minute of indecision, he went to the game room, turning on the television as he sprawled on the couch and started mindlessly flipping through channels.
The prince had been calling every few days or so, checking in on them; an event which Donghae both looked forward to and dreaded. Their conversations were inevitably short and awkward. Donghae-who usually had a harder time not talking-found himself struggling for things to say, keeping the phone pressed tightly to his ear as he listened to the soft intonations of Siwon's voice remarking on this or that bit of news.
After they'd hung up, Donghae would sometimes lay in his bed for hours, staring up at the ceiling and dissecting every nuance of their conversation, replaying it over and over in his mind and imagining that this time he'd heard something in Siwon's voice that probably wasn't there at all. What that particular something was, Donghae wasn't entirely sure. He told himself he was still feeling guilty over the media incident and was looking for Siwon’s forgiveness, but that explanation never sat comfortably.
Sometimes Kibum would come and find him in while he was in this state, dragging Donghae out of his stupor to go to the beach, or to the village, or just to play video games. They'd tried horseback riding one time, but that had been complete and utter failure on Donghae's part. But he still maintained that it wasn't his fault that horses were so damn huge. And ferocious-looking. And evil.
A few hours later, that was how Kibum found Donghae-still lounging on the couch and half-heartedly watching some random variety show, his cellphone shoved under one of the pillows because he'd gotten sick of glancing at it every fifteen minutes. Donghae didn't actually notice the other boy was in the room until Kibum had whacked him over the head with a paperback book.
"Ow," Donghae said listlessly, not moving.
"You need to stop moping," Kibum said, perching next to him on the arm of the couch.
"I'm not moping," Donghae muttered, and switched the channel away from a commercial with an annoying jingle using a bit more force than was absolutely necessary.
"Siwon will call again. He's probably just busy with important royalty stuff-you know, the usual."
Donghae couldn't stand the humiliation of being pitied for something that wasn't even true. "I'm not waiting for him to call," Donghae growled. "I'm just sitting here, perfectly and utterly content with life." Except really, the lack of quality television programming these days was an outrage. Frustrated, he switched the tv off and tossed the remote against a pillow.
"Yeah, I can see that," Kibum said, quiet. After a moment, Donghae felt the other boy's hand come to rest on the back of his neck, fingers threading through Donghae's hair.
Donghae looked up in surprise, and Kibum's hand fell away. His eyes were dark in a way Donghae hadn't seen before, before turning thoughtful and closed-off. "Night swim?" Kibum suggested lightly, standing up and tossing his book onto the nearest table.
Donghae hesitated, agreement sticking in his throat. Against his will, his gaze was drawn own to the couch-cushion, even though he hated himself for it.
Kibum followed Donghae's look, and smiled in understanding, lips pressed tight together. "A walk, then." He reached under the cushion and retrieved Donghae's hidden phone, handing it over with a coaxing waggle. "Come on. The fresh air will help clear your head."
Donghae cradled the phone in his palm for a moment, finally standing up and shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. "Do you think we'll need our jackets?"
"Probably not," Kibum said. "But Kyuhyun will gut me if you catch a cold, so wear one anyway."
When they were walking along the shoreline, the breeze moving off the ocean was chilly enough for Donghae to be glad for the extra warmth of his sweater. They strolled along in an easy silence, and Donghae kept craning his head back to look at the stars, brighter out here than they ever could be from the city.
After a while they stopped at a random bluff and sat, looking out at the blue-black waves until Donghae put up his hood to protect his hair, and laid back for an uninterrupted view of the sky. His hands itched suddenly for his oils, because he wanted to paint it-thick whorls of indigo and charcoal and navy-blue, with dots of yellow-cream splattered across with a paint-heavy brush.
Donghae was comfortable enough that he'd have fallen asleep if he'd been the least bit tired. As it was, he felt restless and awake, stretched open as wide as the sky. He needed a random topic to start babbling about, otherwise he was five seconds away from pouring his heart out to Kibum's ears-and the most terrifying part about that prospect was that Donghae had no idea what he'd say.
"This sand is really soft," Donghae blurted instead, interrupting whatever deep and surely more important thoughts Kibum had been having at the time.
"Hmm?" Kibum hummed, glancing at Donghae before looking back to the waves.
"The sand, it's really smooth. And white. It's nice. Different from the sand at the beaches in my old hometown."
"Oh, that," The moonlight was bright enough for Donghae to see the white of Kibum's teeth as he grinned. "Of course it is. It's imported from Indonesia."
Donghae gaped. "You're kidding me, right?"
"Nope. Tons and tons of it. Exclusively for this beach. And exclusively for the use of the royal family and guests. Spared no expense."
Suddenly, Donghae didn't feel quite as comfortable as before. Suddenly he felt like an insignificant boy who'd grown up in a tiny fishing village-like a boy who would never have even dared dream of having imported sports cars, much less imported sand from Indonesia.
He wasn't anybody, and yet he here he was: married to a prince, with radio hosts who had catch phrases about him, and tabloids paying ridiculous amounts of money for his picture. Donghae still wasn't entirely convinced that all of this wasn't some sort of world-wide joke at his expense.
And Donghae didn't even realize that he was saying all of this out loud until he physically had to stop for breath, his lungs heaving and taking in deep gulps of the nighttime ocean air. Then he bit his lip and turned his face away, cheeks flushing hot in embarrassment over his outburst.
Kibum's low chuckle broke through the awkward silence. "Well, you're certainly not anything like I expected you to be, Lee Donghae," Kibum said.
"What do you mean?" Donghae asked.
Kibum shrugged one shoulder. "When I heard about the betrothal and the oath you took with my cousin, I figured you'd be like all those other arrogant bluebloods Siwon calls friends-spoiled and with a sense of entitlement only barely bigger than their egos." Kibum shook his head, amused. "To be honest, at first I was relieved that the obligation had faulted to my cousin instead of me."
Donghae sat up, pulling his hood down so he could stare at the other boy while his thoughts reeled in sudden confusion. "Wait a minute. You're saying that you and I...?"
"You didn't know?" Kibum's eyes glinted back at Donghae through the dark, not smiling for once as he confirmed Donghae's suspicion. "If I were still Crown Prince, the contract made between our grandfathers would have been with me. And you."
Donghae's hands moved restlessly at his sides, fisting in and out of the sand as he tried to come to terms with this new piece of information. The roar of the surf was deafening in his ears and he huddled forward, bending his legs and tucking his chin against his knees. He wanted to ask if Kibum still felt relieved, but Donghae couldn't make his mouth say the words.
His eyes landed on his left hand, seeing his skin washed gray by the moonlight, but with the silver band of his ring still shining beacon-bright on his finger. He thought of Siwon, wearing the matching ring-and then Donghae tried his best to think of something else, something completely different.
"It's getting late," Kibum said, first to break the silence. "We should go back."
"Yeah," Donghae agreed, trying for a smile. "Kyuhyun might lock me in my room for the rest of the trip if we fall asleep out here another time."
The junior palace aide was once again waiting for them when they returned to the manor, but this time Kyuhyun's mouth was set in a thin line, his expression grave and foreboding. "Something's happened," he said, and hurried them over to the television, where a news broadcast was taking place, the lights from the screen casting an eerie glow in the darkened room. Dread settled into the pit of Donghae’s stomach, colder than seawater.
A woman reporter was on the screen, speaking rapidly in formal language while behind her the live shot went blurry with a chaotic jumble of people and flashing lights from police vehicles and the jagged beam of helicopter spotlights.
"Once again, we have had a report that the black utility vehicle on the scene had Prince Choi Siwon as its passenger; no others have yet been confirmed at this time..."
Gradually the sound of the woman's voice grew fainter and fainter, and Donghae came to realize that the roar of static he heard wasn't the sea outside but the rushing of his own blood in his ears. From the corner of his vision, he saw Kyuhyun looking uncharacteristically at a loss, tugging at his hair as he paced the room and tried over and over to contact Yesung on the phone.
That's useless, Donghae thought, surfacing through the strange calm haze of his mind. He's probably with Siwon right now.
And before he had actively decided to do so, Donghae was walking, moving down the hallway to his room. Once there, he got out his duffel bag and set it on the bed, and then began stuffing his clothes and all his other accumulated belongings inside it.
Kibum followed him, leaning against the doorframe with his hands shoved in his pockets and looking younger than Donghae had ever seen him. His skin was sickly pale, and with sudden wrench in his gut Donghae remembered how Kibum's mother had died in a car accident.
"Even if you go, there's nothing you can do to help right now," Kibum said.
Donghae didn't look up again from his packing. "I should be there. I never should have come here. I should-I don't know. It doesn't matter. I have to go back there, tonight."
"It's too late-there's no ferries going over until morning, and even after that, Donghae, it's a four hour drive."
Donghae pressed his lips together, and shoved one shoe into the corner of his duffel, not really caring that he still hadn't found the other. "You're right. That's why we'll go to the airport."
Kibum's voice echoed hollow with shock. "You're going to fly? Donghae, on an airplane?"
"I told you, I have to go back."
Kibum continued to try and persuade him. "The whole reason for bringing you here was to get you out of the media's claws. Now you want to go and fling yourself face-first into the fire?"
"I should be there," Donghae insisted, forcing the zipper closed with shaking hands, and he moved to put his back to Kibum so the other boy wouldn't see. "It's ridiculous that I'm hiding out here when something like that's happening back home." And Siwon can get as pissed off at me as he likes, I don't care, Donghae added silently, jaw already set.
Finished packing, Donghae flung his duffel over his shoulder and brushed past Kibum into the hallway, calling as he went, "Kyu-oh, you're here."
The young aide was also packed, and a flash of satisfaction lit his eyes as soon as Donghae emerged. "The car's waiting outside. There's a flight leaving in fifty minutes that they'll hold for us on the tarmac."
Donghae looked at Kibum, who just sighed and shook his head, resigned. "Go then. I'll catch up tomorrow. I have to bring my bike back, anyway."
Donghae hesitated, then impulsively caught the younger boy up in a tight hug. "See you back home," he muttered into Kibum's hair, then released him, glimpsing the startled expression on his face before turning back to Kyuhyun and nodding for him to lead the way.
"Let's go," Donghae said, and tried not to think about Siwon, or flying, or crashing-or anything at all.
~*~
"I'm sorry, sir," Kyuhyun's voice echoed regretfully through the phone. "Master Donghae and Master Kibum are not in at the moment. Shall I take a message?"
The prince blinked down at the top of his desk for a moment, wondering why he felt disgruntled. "No, that won't be necessary," he replied to the aide. "I'll call again at another time."
"Very well, sir," Kyuhyun said, and Siwon slid his phone shut, ending the call.
Not for the first time, Siwon wondered if he had made the right decision to send Donghae into seclusion so soon after the media fiasco that had occurred at his friends' apartment building. Especially considering the reaction to said seclusion had been even more wild speculation, to the point where the paparazzi were nearly camping twenty-four seven outside the palace gates now, hoping for a long-range shot of the prince's elusive other half.
Sighing, Siwon set down his phone and picked up a manila folder from his desk, skimming its contents for the hundredth time before tossing it back down. He massaged his temples, feeling a headache begin to form behind his eyes. There was just too much to be dealing with already. Aside from the royal family's public image problems, the elder King Choi's health had taken a turn for the worse in recent days, causing Siwon's father to spend more time with him, relying on Siwon to pick up the slack with regards to the day-to-day administrative affairs of the palace.
Siwon sat at his desk, brooding, gaze fixed on the stack of paperwork waiting for him without really seeing it. Sometimes he thought it had been a mistake to send Donghae to the estate at Jeju-but if he were being honest, Siwon mostly just wished he could have gone along.
Two hours. That's all he needed. Two hours of not being here: of not thinking about the hundreds of things he was responsible for, not thinking about the schoolwork he was woefully behind on; of not thinking about the next day's schedule, or if he could manage four hours sleep instead of three.
Slowly, he opened a desk drawer, pulling out the envelope he'd received in the mail yesterday, which he'd done his best to put out of his mind ever since. The envelope contained two tickets and a short note. Please come, it read. Bring anyone along, but please do come.
Two hours, Siwon thought, somewhat desperately, and made up his mind. He slipped the envelope into the pocket of his shirt and stood up, facing the doorway just as Yesung entered holding a fresh stack of documents that no doubt needed Siwon's immediate attention.
"Have the car brought around to the back entrance, would you please?" the prince asked before his secretary could open his mouth to speak. Yesung set his burden down on a nearby table and gave the prince a knowing look.
"Will you be visiting the university, your Highness?"
Yesung was a little too knowing, sometimes. Siwon sighed, rubbing his jaw, then did something he'd been brought up never to do-ask the opinion of a servant. "Is it very hypocritical of me?"
Yesung blinked, the only evidence that he'd been taken aback by the prince's question. But the secretary dropped his gaze and inclined his head as he answered. "Yes, your Highness. A little."
Siwon plucked his suit jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged it on. "Tonight, I can live with a little hypocrisy," he muttered, and walked into the courtyard with Yesung trailing in his wake.
"Very well, sir," the secretary said, adding under his breath, "Security is not going to be happy about this."
*
The tickets were reserved not for the front, but for Siwon's usual place at the back of the balcony seating. The university was famous for its performing arts program, and the auditorium located just on-campus was impressively large.
Siwon slipped in late, grateful for the darkness of the theater, and took his seat alone. The ballet had already begun, soft strands of classical music weaving a soothing harmony that the dancers onstage followed, showing off their litheness and grace.
Fifteen minutes into the performance, Siwon knew that going there had been a mistake. The weight in his chest only grew heavier, not lighter, when Hankyung came onto the stage for his solo. The dancer moved across the stage as if he'd been born to it, and Siwon had watched him hundreds of times like this, or in rehearsals. But something about it had changed; or, more likely, Siwon had changed. Watching Hankyung didn't make Siwon catch his breath anymore, and he felt the loss poignantly.
After the performance had ended, Siwon moved out of habit towards the backstage entrance where he had used to meet Hankyung, hiding his face with a bouquet of flowers that Hankyung had always wrinkled his nose at and made Siwon laugh sheepishly at the failure of his rare romantic gestures.
Tonight, Siwon's hands were empty. He felt anxious and exposed, and he wondered if it would be better to leave without saying anything. The only thing that kept him moving forward was the knowledge that there was no one else there to greet Hankyung-his aunt and uncle had never supported his chosen career, and he had barely spoken to them since entering school. He'd won his scholarship and his place in the university's prestigious ballet academy entirely on his own merit and kept it with endless hard work.
Siwon had always been proud of him. Swallowing with difficulty, Siwon stared down at his hands before moving somewhat stiffly to clasp them behind his back. He understood now; he'd been wrong to ask Hankyung to leave with him, that time before. Siwon had been wrong about a lot of things.
"You came. I didn't know if you would."
Siwon turned, and there was Hankyung, his face and hair still damp from exertion. He put a hand on Siwon's arm, pulling them off to a niche in the wall that was sheltered by the fall of a damask curtain. Once they'd moved, Hankyung didn't take his hand away. His eyes stayed fixed on Siwon's face, shining over-bright with relief and longing, and Siwon wished he would stop.
"I should get back soon, before I'm seen," Siwon said, moving back just far enough to remove his arm from Hankyung's grip. The other boy's face immediately became more guarded, as if he'd remembered himself.
"Siwon," Hankyung said, speaking softly, but the prince could still hear the pleading note in his tone. "I'm glad you came. I've missed you."
The few weeks they hadn't seen each other felt then to Siwon more like a stretch of years. He looked at Hankyung and saw nothing but a sense of the insurmountable distance now between them, and it made Siwon feel more tired than he had all week, the exhaustion settling like an ache into his bones.
When Siwon didn't reply, Hankyung spoke again, shifting closer. "I've thought about it, and I understand. Things can't be like they were. But Siwon, you don't have to push me away, or pretend you feel nothing."
"It's impossible," Siwon shook his head, trying to find a way to explain. "With the situation as it is... even a whisper of a scandal would-"
"We were together for two years. No one discovered us."
Siwon remembered the loud ringing of a cellphone, and running reckless down a flight of stairs. "That's not entirely true," Siwon corrected, then didn't see any point in withholding the rest. "Donghae knows."
Hankyung frowned in confusion. "Him? You told him?"
"Not exactly," Siwon said, and squarely met Hankyung's eyes with his own. "But even if that were not so, I still made an oath. I vowed fidelity, loyalty."
"To a stranger," Hankyung countered. "Someone you don't even know. And he doesn‘t know you."
Siwon thought of Donghae, and could easily picture the other boy's face-his messy hair, his too-loud laughter, the way his eyes glazed over whenever Siwon attempted to discuss anything related to politics or diplomacy. "That's... irrelevant," Siwon said, after hesitating.
"Not so long ago you were ready to run away to escape this." Hankyung said, clasping Siwon's forearms and holding tight. "I don't understand how you seem to have accepted it so easily."
God, do you really think this is easy for me? Siwon wanted to say-to shout, even, loud enough for his own frustration to reverberate off the walls. "What's been done is done, and can't be changed," Siwon said instead, holding himself very still. "And since I can do nothing else, I will abide by the dictates of my honor."
"Honor," Hankyung echoed hollowly. His hands released Siwon's arms, falling limply to his sides. "For that reason, you'll act like we were nothing to each other." He finally looked away, no longer attempting to search the prince's face for a cue that wasn't there. "Just tell me one thing, then-tell me why you came here tonight."
Siwon reached out for the first time, briefly touching the other boy's shoulder-because he hadn't come for this, but he couldn't say even that much. "To say goodbye," Siwon told him, feeling cold and aching all over.
Hankyung only nodded, eyes shut, as if that was what he'd been expecting. When his eyes opened again, they were brimming dark with resignation. "All right," he murmured. "You've said it. So just go."
Because Hankyung was right, and there was nothing more that could be said, Siwon left.
*
Siwon watched the city pass by through the car's tinted windows, lights turning to streaks of neon and buildings flashing by in a blur. Sometimes he considered telling the driver to pull over-to let him off at some anonymous corner, and he'd go explore the city on foot, seeing everything in focus for once.
He propped his chin on his fist, wondering if he could persuade Yesung to allow it somehow-but the aide was stricter than the members of the prince's bodyguard, most times. Besides, Siwon had already done enough wandering astray for one night.
Sitting in the seat across from him, Yesung cleared his throat. "If you like, your Highness, we could review your upcoming schedules now."
Siwon sat up straighter, pulling his gaze from the window. "Go ahead," he nodded, glad for the distraction if not exactly for the nature of it.
The secretary pulled out his Blackberry and began to go through the date book, rattling off the lists of meetings and appointments, ending with invitations to special events. One in particular caught Siwon's attention, and he held up a hand, asking Yesung to repeat it.
Yesung tapped the screen, the glow from it bright in the darkness of the car's interior. "The Children's Charity banquet, sir? There was a conflict with the timing, I believe-"
The prince never heard the rest, because a horn suddenly blared, too loud and too close, and in the next second Siwon was jerked roughly against his seatbelt, ears deafened by the crumple and screech of metal as the car was impacted on the passenger side. The world went spinning end over end, and Siwon cracked his skull hard enough against something to cause his vision to gray out around the edges.
When he came back to his senses, the world was tilted at a confusing angle, blurry and confusing. Siwon lifted a shaking hand, wiping blood from his eye, and realized the car had tipped sideways. The seatbelt was digging painfully into his chest, his body half-dangling from it, and his mouth and nose were filled with the choking odor of burnt rubber and smoke. There were too many noises to make sense of, and Siwon's head throbbed painfully so he didn't try, just focused as best as he could at getting himself free of the seatbelt.
He became dimly aware of voices calling out, and soon after the faces of strangers appeared through the shattered-open window, asking if he was okay, if he was hurt. When one of the strangers recognized who exactly he was, Siwon cursed under his breath, closing his eyes against a particularly sharp stab from his head, hearing the man calling out excitedly to everyone outside.
Someone shone a flashlight through the window, making Siwon wince at the brightness-but with it he finally saw Yesung, laying still on the ground, and the sudden rush of fear and anxiety cleared the last of the confused haze from his mind. "Call for an ambulance," he commanded, saying it to anyone who tried to speak to him and nothing else until it was obeyed. He renewed his struggle with the seatbelt, freeing himself finally when one of the people outside passed him a switchblade through the window.
He maneuvered carefully through the glass and debris of the interior, taking the flashlight and crouching down next to Yesung to check him over for any injuries. Siwon couldn't be sure, but he thought the aide's left arm might have been broken, or dislocated.
The prince didn't relax until he heard the distant sound of sirens from emergency vehicles, but immediately tensed up against when he realized the sounds had stopped, and weren't moving any closer.
"What's happening? What's going on?" he called out, voice already turning hoarse, until someone finally answered him-the helpful old man who'd had the knife.
"The streets are jammed up with cars and people, for a block in either direction. They can't get through. Some damn idiots called the news stations first, and now there's spectators everywhere."
Siwon cursed, long and fluid. He tried standing up at an awkward angle to open the door that faced up to the sky, but it had been deformed by the impact from the other vehicle and wouldn't budge, and straining against it was only making him dizzy.
The ache in Siwon's head kept getting sharper, his vision still fuzzing out from time to time. He was reasonably sure he was slightly concussed but that didn’t stop him. He clambered over the passenger seats to check on the driver, and found the man in an even worse condition than Yesung, bleeding profusely from a gash on his arm. It was difficult to work in the cramped space, but Siwon tore off the sleeve of his shirt and used it to tie around the driver's arm. The sirens outside continued wailing at an ear-rattling pitch, but made no further progress. After a few more minutes Siwon heard the crackle of policemen on megaphones, telling the crowds of cars and people to disperse.
"The medics are going to come on foot-just hang on, hang on," called the old man. "Shit, the reporters keep trying to stop them and ask them questions, the damn idiots-stay here, I'll go bring them."
Siwon sat, slumping against the floor-that was actually the car door-and found himself laughing weakly, dropping his aching head into his hands as he chuckled and only when he couldn't quite stop himself did he think he might be displaying the symptoms of shock.
He'd wanted two hours of freedom, just for one night. And yet, somehow the prince’s short, low-key outing had managed to turn out even more disastrously than Donghae's. Maybe it was a sign.
Oh, Siwon thought hazily, and used his remaining sleeve to dab at the cut that was still bleeding on his forehead. I was supposed to call him back, wasn't I?
Siwon hunched his back, twisting and ignoring the protests of his bruises to grope in his pockets. He pulled out his cellphone, and stared with a vague feeling of dismay at the large cracks shot through the blackened display screen.
~*~
Donghae was opening the door to the taxi and getting out almost before it had completely slowed to a stop. He left his duffel, left Kyuhyun, and walked through the palace hallways before breaking into a jog, distantly thankful that in two weeks he hadn't forgotten the way.
When he entered the courtyard he was panting for breath, looking around the empty space and feeling his stomach sink low with worry because Siwon wasn't there.
Kyuhyun caught up a few moments later. "I thought you said at the airport that they were on their way back from the hospital already," Donghae said, as soon as the aide had come into speaking distance. From what he understood, it had taken almost two hours just to get Siwon and the others out of the smashed car and to the hospital, but that was something Donghae really didn't want to think about.
"They are, sir," Kyuhyun nodded. "Prince Siwon is, at least. They were discussing keeping Yesung for further observation. His dislocated shoulder was reset, but the doctors might want to keep an eye on it. Anyway, you kept telling the taxi driver to speed so much that we might have beat them home. I'm sure the prince is only a few minutes behind us. And he may go see the King and Queen first before coming in to rest."
Donghae nodded, but still couldn't help looking around the garden while chewing on his lower lip. He wouldn't stop being anxious till he had seen for himself that Siwon was alright.
Donghae turned to the younger aide, frowning at him. "You should go rest, too. And put some ice on your arm," he added with a guilty wince. Flying on the plane had been the single most harrowing experience of Donghae's life. He'd kept his eyes shut tight the entire time, and hadn't even noticed till they'd hit the tarmac at Incheon that he'd been clutching at Kyuhyun's arm tight enough to leave bruises.
"It'll be fine, sir," Kyuhyun smiled, and it was the first time he’d done so all night. "I'm going to call the hospital again and see if Yesung stayed behind."
After the aide had left, Donghae stayed standing still for a few moments before beginning to gravitate towards the open door to Siwon's rooms. The curtains were drawn apart for once, and the rising of the sun cast enough orange-tinted light into the rooms for Donghae to clearly see there was no one inside, not even one of the servants.
He hovered in the doorway, struggling with a sense of being intrusive before taking the last few steps inside. It felt strange to be back after two weeks gone, and to be in the palace alone. It made Donghae uncomfortably aware that to him, Siwon had somehow become the most familiar thing in this place.
Walking to the polished mahogany desk, Donghae looked with sympathy over the piles of paperwork that seemed to be waiting the prince's return as impatiently as he was. Resting in the middle of the ink-blotter, a manila folder caught Donghae's eye, half of its papers spilling out as if it had been tossed down carelessly.
He knew he probably shouldn't-but as what usually happened in these kinds of situations, Donghae's curiosity got the better of him. He picked up the folder and began to skim through it. As he read, Donghae's eyes grew wider and wider with shock, a sickening nausea curling into his gut and rising up bitter in the back of his mouth.
Someone cleared their throat and Donghae dropped the folder with numbed fingers, whirling around to see the prince standing behind him. "Oh. You're back," Donghae said, in a spectacular display of stating the obvious.
"So are you," Siwon said, seeming about as pleased to see him as Donghae had expected. Which was to say, not very at all.
Donghae quickly looked him over, taking in everything from the bandaged cut above the prince's eye to the bloodied, torn shirt, and even the small rips in the material of his slacks. There were dark circles under the prince's eyes and he looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in years. But even in spite of all that, he still managed to give off an air of being more put-together than Donghae felt.
"You're okay?" Donghae blurted, finally asking the pressing question that had been occupying his thoughts for the past four hours or so.
"I'm fine. Just bruises and scrapes," Siwon answered, and gave Donghae an odd look. "You came by plane? I thought you had a phobia of flying."
"I do," Donghae muttered, and he would probably be having nightmares about it for the rest of his life-but that didn't even matter, really, because he was back now and Siwon was all right. Not that Donghae wasn't still incredibly pissed off at him, just then.
"This," Donghae said, and picked up the folder he dropped before. "Siwon, what the hell is this?"
Siwon's eyes flicked to it, and his face immediately closed down, revealing nothing. "That," he said, coldly, "isn't anything for you to concern yourself with."
Donghae wasn't about to let the matter drop so easily. He met Siwon’s stare, his own eyes narrowing. "These reports of protests, hate-mail, even death threats-you didn't think I had a right to know?" Donghae thought of all the days he'd spent in Jeju, sleeping-in and surfing, while back here Siwon had been dealing with this all on his own-keeping it secret, even.
"A certain amount of anti-political sentiment is normal towards any hierarchically bourgeoisie social body," Siwon said, speaking as if he were reciting from a manual for arrogant bastards, and Donghae was beginning to get more than pissed off at being treated like an ignorant child-now, he was downright furious.
"I read it, okay? The report." So saying, Donghae dropped the folder back to the desk, slamming his palm flat on top of it. "Thirty-percent, that's how much it's gone up since the ceremony. Despite what you think, I'm not an idiot. I know it's happening because of me." Donghae could have cursed the way his voice broke over the last word, but he kept his jaw set, teeth clenched against the waves of guilt and doubt that were surging in competition with his anger.
"It was important that the media remain uninformed of those statistics-" Siwon began, but Donghae broke in, interrupting him.
"I don't care about them-you could have told me. I would have wanted to know, Siwon. I can help you, even, if you'll just let me."
"Like the press conference you refused to do?" Siwon snapped back, the stony mask of his expression cracking at last, crumbling away under his own frustration. "Or the way you helped matters by sneaking out, when you'd been specifically told to stay here."
"I'm sorry, okay? How many times do I have to say it? I was wrong, I know." Donghae's hands were curled into fists at his sides, and he was shaking by then, but he wasn't about to stop. "And maybe you've been raised to it-but for the rest of us, the idea of being on television with the entire world watching, waiting for you to make a mistake, is kind of terrifying."
"So don't try," Siwon growled, his countenance as dark and foreboding as nighttime clouds. "Don't involve yourself, and especially don't imagine that your presence here is anything more than ornamentation."
I was such an idiot, Donghae thought, Siwon's word hitting him like a kick to the gut, and he hated himself for the way it hurt. There's no place for me here, nothing I can do but cause trouble.
Donghae heard a voice in his head, then, faded with age and illness but still strong. On his first night in the palace, the elder King Choi had spoken with him, convincing Donghae to stay with the plea to save his grandson-from what, Donghae hadn't known at the time. Now Donghae suspected it might possibly be the overwhelming force of the prince's own arrogance.
"Why did you do it?" Donghae heard himself ask, voice trembling along with the rest of him. "Why did you agree to this, if it's such a burden?"
The prince broke eye-contact, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "The betrothal contract-" he said, and Donghae wanted to laugh, or maybe break things.
"The contract was for your cousin," Donghae pointed out. "And when was he was gone, it was your duty to take his place." At this, Siwon glanced up, fixing Donghae with a sharp stare. "Well, Kibum's back now," Donghae said, voice going low and bitter, so he could hardly recognize the sound of it. "So why don't you just send me off to be his problem, again?"
"Because you're my problem," the prince snapped, almost snarling, his eyes glinting black and furious. "And we're both going to have to learn to live with that."
Donghae decided he couldn't take any more. He hated being angry, and he hated arguing, and he especially hated the feeling that he was upset about more than just this, but not recognizing what. "Fine," he growled, giving up, and he stalked towards the door, brushing roughly past Siwon as he went.
"Fine," Siwon shot back, and then Donghae was slamming the door behind himself with as much force as he could muster. After he crossed the courtyard to his own room, he slammed his door shut, too, hearing it echo off the walls with a satisfying bang.
Donghae threw himself face-first onto the bed, still burning hot and cold all over his skin. As soon as he touched the mattress, he remembered that he hadn't eaten or slept since the day before. With the sudden lack of adrenalin coursing through his blood, he remembered that he was exhausted, emotionally and physically. And the prince, too, had just come home from being involved in a brutal car-wreck-neither of them were exactly at their best.
Even recognizing all of this, Donghae still couldn't hold down the force of his feelings. The back of his throat felt tight, his eyes dry and aching, and every harsh word Siwon had said still rang in his ears like gunshots.
He reached for his phone, thinking to drown it out with music, and saw that he had fourteen missed calls, twelve of which were from Sungmin and Hyukjae. Hitting the call back button, Donghae was almost touched when Hyukjae answered after the first ring, right away rattling off a litany of anxious questions.
“Donghae, oh my god. Are you okay? You're still in Jeju, right? You're not dead? How about the prince, is the prince okay? He's also not dead?”
"I'm fine, I'm back at the palace, I'm not dead, Siwon's not dead, and he's a bastard," Donghae scowled down at his pillow, punching it a few times and imagining Siwon's face in its hollows and wrinkles.
"Come again?"
"He's a bastard. A jerk. He's a bastard-jerk," Donghae muttered, and tossed the abused pillow against the wall for good measure.
"What happened-tell me everything," Hyukjae demanded, and so Donghae recounted the fight for him, heavily editing the parts about the death threats and leaving the reason for the fight as a nebulous and vague sort of disagreement.
"So, yeah. He's a jerk," Donghae reasserted once he was done, feeling that particular point couldn't be made too clear.
On the other end of the phone, Hyukjae was unusually silent, to the point where Donghae had to prompt him to speak after a minute with an exasperated, "Well? Say something."
"Hae," Hyukjae began, slow and hesitant. "I don't think that this has occurred to you yet, but..."
"But what?"
"It sounds like-like maybe you're starting to have feelings for the prince."
"What?" Donghae asked blankly, feeling as if someone had dropped a bomb on the palace, the vibrations of it running like chills along his spine. He then launched immediately into denial. "No. No way. You're crazy, because he's an arrogant bastard, and I hate him."
"Don't you see? That's just it, Hae-you never hate anybody. You didn't even hate your last girlfriend when she dumped you on your birthday in front of everyone at school. And you never lose your temper, never-not unless it's really, really serious."
"That was different," Donghae tried to protest, sitting up to stare unseeing at the wall. "That-I mean, she-"
"Yeah, it's different," Hyukjae agreed. "Because you didn't care about her, not as much as you do the prince." The other boy's tone was gentle with sympathy, and Donghae decided he really, really didn’t like being pitied for stuff that wasn't true.
"You're wrong." Donghae shook his head-but too much, and it made the room spin a little. "That's crazy. And wrong. And I have to hang up now." He snapped his phone shut and dropped it onto his mattress, staring at it reproachfully. It lit up and rang as his friend tried to call back, but Donghae ignored it, all the while wondering why his heart was beating so fast over something so stupid and obviously fabricated by Hyukjae's weird imagination.
The phone stopped ringing. Donghae waited, but the other boy didn't try again, apparently deciding to leave him in peace. "You're wrong," Donghae said once more, whispering it out loud to the empty room.
Against his will, his gaze moved to the windows, looking across the courtyard to Siwon's rooms. The curtains were still open, and Donghae could see the prince sitting at his desk, going over the documents that had been left overnight. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his filthy clothes first; let alone sleep, or eat something.
Donghae wanted to go back there and shout at him some more, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until Siwon stopped doing his duties for five damn seconds and actually let himself rest for once.
Donghae sucked in a breath, and looked away. I'm not, he thought, and even in his own mind, he sounded desperate. I'm not falling for him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
© 2008
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a/n: Thanks so much to taylormercury, aconite, meitachi, fading_sun_sock... basically everyone who offered encouragement and/or enthusiasm when I was moaning over this chapter, because it really does mean a lot to me. ♥
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 fic, and I'm very sorry I cannot promise you a conclusion.
------------------------Chapter 8------------------------
Donghae tilted his face towards the sun while he considered, feeling the dampness on his skin already drying to salty-stickiness in the breeze. He inhaled deeply, letting the sea-scented air linger a moment in his lungs before expelling his breath. He went with an obvious choice. "Hawaii?"
Kibum shook his head, the wet strands of his hair clinging to his forehead before he brushed them back. "Depends on the island, but too touristy for me."
Donghae nodded, feeling the board underneath him rise and fall with the ocean's swells, his legs moving lazily in the blue-green water to keep him balanced. Earlier in the morning had been best for a typhoon surf, but it was getting late for good waves, so they'd been passing the time with idle conversation. He thought of another location. "What about Australia?"
Kibum's teeth flashed bright in a smile. "That one's as good as they say. But the reefs can be killer."
The nape of his neck felt hot, so Donghae splashed a handful of water down his back, feeling it trickle cold down his spine. He hummed idly, still thinking. "Oh, got one-Vietnam."
"No, never been there," Kibum conceded. "But Chiba is better, anyway."
Donghae whistled low, impressed. "So you've surfed everywhere in the world that's good to surf, pretty much." He lifted his hand, gesturing sardonically at the gentle swells around them, rippling like the humps of a camel without a hint of a break. "And now, our lovely Jeju island."
"Well, I've been coming here since I was a kid," Kibum said, then grinned with a hint of mischief. "When I used to be a prince, like you."
I'm not really a prince, Donghae thought reflexively-but there was no point in saying it, because the other boy would only try and argue semantics with him again. Instead Donghae coughed, changing the subject. "Still, that's amazing. I can't imagine living in so many different places."
Kibum shrugged, going vague the way he often did. "My mother liked to move around a lot."
They'd already been here two weeks, but Donghae hadn't learned much more about the younger boy's past than what he'd known at the beginning of the trip. But from the little he did know of Kibum's history, Donghae thought he could understand the reason for that.
He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, squinting from the glitter of the sunlight across the water. "I'm hungry," he said.
Kibum rolled his eyes. "When are you not hungry."
Donghae shrugged good-naturedly. "Should we go back?"
Kibum nodded, then smirked. "Race you," he said, and before Donghae could move, the other boy had already laid himself flat against his surfboard and begun paddling for the beach, splashing Donghae as he went.
Yelping indignantly, Donghae followed suit, and by the time they reached the shallows they were both cheating outrageously, kicking water and pulling arms and wrestling each other down. Donghae was laughing too hard and got more than one mouthful of salt-heavy seawater, but he could ignore these minor discomforts because he won anyway.
They lay side-by-side in the hot sand as they recovered, panting for breath. Kibum suddenly spoke out of nowhere, the tone of his voice subdued. "I didn't mind it so much."
Donghae, who had been lulled halfway to a doze by steady roar of the ocean, lifted his head just enough to peer at the other boy in confusion. "Hmm? Didn't mind what?"
Kibum was lying on his back, one arm flung across his eyes to block the sun. "All the moving. It wasn't so bad. It would have been worse if my mom had just dragged me anywhere, but she didn't."
Slowly, Kibum removed his arm and sat up. His gaze had gone distant, lost in memory. "She spent a long time trying to outrun her grief. But she always picked a place by the ocean, for me. So after a while I stopped keeping track of the countries, the cities, the languages-and I just had this." Kibum scooped up a handful of white sand, the fine grains slipping through his fingers like streams of water. "And that was fine, you know, I was okay with it. Wherever I was, it still felt like home."
Donghae could only hold his breath, afraid if he breathed the other boy might remember he was there and stop talking. Donghae's heart ached a little with sympathy-he wanted to reach out, put a hand on Kibum's shoulder, his back-but Donghae didn't move. He stayed still, just listening.
"Anyway," Kibum opened his hand, and brushed his palm against the damp material of his shorts. "After a few years, we settled in California." He cracked a smile, but it was weak compared to his usual. "The surfing is really good there."
Donghae worried his lower lip, wanting to ask if Kibum planned to go back there, when his visit was over-but then he remembered Kibum had never exactly said why he had come here to Korea in the first place. Maybe he was looking for something, and when he found it, he'd leave.
They hadn't known each other long, but Donghae already knew he'd miss Kibum if he left. So instead of asking, Donghae found himself babbling the first nonsense that popped into his head. "My parents named me after the sea," he said, lamely.
Kibum looked at Donghae and his smile turned genuine. "I know," he teased. "It's pretty obvious, Donghae."
Donghae got to his feet, bouncing a little to dislodge the sand from his skin, and reached down a hand to help pull the other boy up. "After the East Sea," he added in a lofty tone.
Their palms stuck together, gritty with sand and salt. When Kibum stood eye-to-eye with him once more, Donghae could see the traces of distance and gray humor were quickly fading from the other boy's face like clouds burnt away by the sun. "I know," Kibum said again, and laughed.
They retrieved their surfboards and shoes, throwing shirts on over their damp skin before hiking back along the short trail that took them directly from the private beach to the grounds of the royal family's summer manor. Donghae had been told it was almost ‘cottage-like' when compared to the grandeur and size of the palace back home-but with ten guest rooms, an indoor pool, an outdoor pool, a personal gym, a tennis court, a game room, three sitting rooms (green, blue, and gold), a banquet hall, and even a ballroom-Donghae had a hard time conceiving of the ‘modest residence' as anything other than a second palace, just sized-down. The view from the large floor-to-ceiling windows in all of the sea-facing rooms was pretty spectacular, too.
After rinsing off and changing clothes, the two of them donned baseball caps and sunglasses and rode Kibum's motorcycle to the nearby village, five miles away. It was a picturesque little place, if a tourist-trap. But the boys didn't mind, because they didn't stand out from the crowd at all. Not once had someone pointed a finger or called out to Donghae with recognition. He had to admit being anonymous again had made him feel almost weightless with relief, the burden of that media-massacre from before easing off his shoulders as it faded from his mind.
They ate lunch at their favorite noodle-shop and afterward just meandered around the town, happily incognito as they browsed the local marketplace with the rest of the weekend crowd. Donghae already had bags full of souvenirs to take back to Sungmin and Hyukjae from the past two weeks-mostly as an apology for the fact that their apartment building was still being staked out by paparazzi-but he could never resist getting more.
Donghae and Kibum headed back to the manor as the sun was beginning to set, strolling along the narrow dirt road, with Kibum pushing his bike and Donghae plucking tangerines from the trees and eating them while they walked, the smell of citrus sharp in his nose and his fingers getting stickier by the minute. Not a single car, bicycle, or person passed them by as they went.
Being in Jeju was like being in a world apart from reality-and as much as he hated to admit it, Donghae had been enjoying himself. At least for the most part.
Kyuhyun-who had come along ostensibly as their supervision, though he was younger than Donghae and Kibum both-met them at the door as they arrived back. "The prince called while you were out," he informed Donghae, whose insides twisted in immediate reaction.
"Did he-should I call him back, did he say?"
Kyuhyun shook his head. "Prince Siwon merely said to inform you of his call, and that he would try again later tonight."
"Oh," was all Donghae could think to say, trying to ignore the disappointment churning in his stomach. After a minute of indecision, he went to the game room, turning on the television as he sprawled on the couch and started mindlessly flipping through channels.
The prince had been calling every few days or so, checking in on them; an event which Donghae both looked forward to and dreaded. Their conversations were inevitably short and awkward. Donghae-who usually had a harder time not talking-found himself struggling for things to say, keeping the phone pressed tightly to his ear as he listened to the soft intonations of Siwon's voice remarking on this or that bit of news.
After they'd hung up, Donghae would sometimes lay in his bed for hours, staring up at the ceiling and dissecting every nuance of their conversation, replaying it over and over in his mind and imagining that this time he'd heard something in Siwon's voice that probably wasn't there at all. What that particular something was, Donghae wasn't entirely sure. He told himself he was still feeling guilty over the media incident and was looking for Siwon’s forgiveness, but that explanation never sat comfortably.
Sometimes Kibum would come and find him in while he was in this state, dragging Donghae out of his stupor to go to the beach, or to the village, or just to play video games. They'd tried horseback riding one time, but that had been complete and utter failure on Donghae's part. But he still maintained that it wasn't his fault that horses were so damn huge. And ferocious-looking. And evil.
A few hours later, that was how Kibum found Donghae-still lounging on the couch and half-heartedly watching some random variety show, his cellphone shoved under one of the pillows because he'd gotten sick of glancing at it every fifteen minutes. Donghae didn't actually notice the other boy was in the room until Kibum had whacked him over the head with a paperback book.
"Ow," Donghae said listlessly, not moving.
"You need to stop moping," Kibum said, perching next to him on the arm of the couch.
"I'm not moping," Donghae muttered, and switched the channel away from a commercial with an annoying jingle using a bit more force than was absolutely necessary.
"Siwon will call again. He's probably just busy with important royalty stuff-you know, the usual."
Donghae couldn't stand the humiliation of being pitied for something that wasn't even true. "I'm not waiting for him to call," Donghae growled. "I'm just sitting here, perfectly and utterly content with life." Except really, the lack of quality television programming these days was an outrage. Frustrated, he switched the tv off and tossed the remote against a pillow.
"Yeah, I can see that," Kibum said, quiet. After a moment, Donghae felt the other boy's hand come to rest on the back of his neck, fingers threading through Donghae's hair.
Donghae looked up in surprise, and Kibum's hand fell away. His eyes were dark in a way Donghae hadn't seen before, before turning thoughtful and closed-off. "Night swim?" Kibum suggested lightly, standing up and tossing his book onto the nearest table.
Donghae hesitated, agreement sticking in his throat. Against his will, his gaze was drawn own to the couch-cushion, even though he hated himself for it.
Kibum followed Donghae's look, and smiled in understanding, lips pressed tight together. "A walk, then." He reached under the cushion and retrieved Donghae's hidden phone, handing it over with a coaxing waggle. "Come on. The fresh air will help clear your head."
Donghae cradled the phone in his palm for a moment, finally standing up and shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. "Do you think we'll need our jackets?"
"Probably not," Kibum said. "But Kyuhyun will gut me if you catch a cold, so wear one anyway."
When they were walking along the shoreline, the breeze moving off the ocean was chilly enough for Donghae to be glad for the extra warmth of his sweater. They strolled along in an easy silence, and Donghae kept craning his head back to look at the stars, brighter out here than they ever could be from the city.
After a while they stopped at a random bluff and sat, looking out at the blue-black waves until Donghae put up his hood to protect his hair, and laid back for an uninterrupted view of the sky. His hands itched suddenly for his oils, because he wanted to paint it-thick whorls of indigo and charcoal and navy-blue, with dots of yellow-cream splattered across with a paint-heavy brush.
Donghae was comfortable enough that he'd have fallen asleep if he'd been the least bit tired. As it was, he felt restless and awake, stretched open as wide as the sky. He needed a random topic to start babbling about, otherwise he was five seconds away from pouring his heart out to Kibum's ears-and the most terrifying part about that prospect was that Donghae had no idea what he'd say.
"This sand is really soft," Donghae blurted instead, interrupting whatever deep and surely more important thoughts Kibum had been having at the time.
"Hmm?" Kibum hummed, glancing at Donghae before looking back to the waves.
"The sand, it's really smooth. And white. It's nice. Different from the sand at the beaches in my old hometown."
"Oh, that," The moonlight was bright enough for Donghae to see the white of Kibum's teeth as he grinned. "Of course it is. It's imported from Indonesia."
Donghae gaped. "You're kidding me, right?"
"Nope. Tons and tons of it. Exclusively for this beach. And exclusively for the use of the royal family and guests. Spared no expense."
Suddenly, Donghae didn't feel quite as comfortable as before. Suddenly he felt like an insignificant boy who'd grown up in a tiny fishing village-like a boy who would never have even dared dream of having imported sports cars, much less imported sand from Indonesia.
He wasn't anybody, and yet he here he was: married to a prince, with radio hosts who had catch phrases about him, and tabloids paying ridiculous amounts of money for his picture. Donghae still wasn't entirely convinced that all of this wasn't some sort of world-wide joke at his expense.
And Donghae didn't even realize that he was saying all of this out loud until he physically had to stop for breath, his lungs heaving and taking in deep gulps of the nighttime ocean air. Then he bit his lip and turned his face away, cheeks flushing hot in embarrassment over his outburst.
Kibum's low chuckle broke through the awkward silence. "Well, you're certainly not anything like I expected you to be, Lee Donghae," Kibum said.
"What do you mean?" Donghae asked.
Kibum shrugged one shoulder. "When I heard about the betrothal and the oath you took with my cousin, I figured you'd be like all those other arrogant bluebloods Siwon calls friends-spoiled and with a sense of entitlement only barely bigger than their egos." Kibum shook his head, amused. "To be honest, at first I was relieved that the obligation had faulted to my cousin instead of me."
Donghae sat up, pulling his hood down so he could stare at the other boy while his thoughts reeled in sudden confusion. "Wait a minute. You're saying that you and I...?"
"You didn't know?" Kibum's eyes glinted back at Donghae through the dark, not smiling for once as he confirmed Donghae's suspicion. "If I were still Crown Prince, the contract made between our grandfathers would have been with me. And you."
Donghae's hands moved restlessly at his sides, fisting in and out of the sand as he tried to come to terms with this new piece of information. The roar of the surf was deafening in his ears and he huddled forward, bending his legs and tucking his chin against his knees. He wanted to ask if Kibum still felt relieved, but Donghae couldn't make his mouth say the words.
His eyes landed on his left hand, seeing his skin washed gray by the moonlight, but with the silver band of his ring still shining beacon-bright on his finger. He thought of Siwon, wearing the matching ring-and then Donghae tried his best to think of something else, something completely different.
"It's getting late," Kibum said, first to break the silence. "We should go back."
"Yeah," Donghae agreed, trying for a smile. "Kyuhyun might lock me in my room for the rest of the trip if we fall asleep out here another time."
The junior palace aide was once again waiting for them when they returned to the manor, but this time Kyuhyun's mouth was set in a thin line, his expression grave and foreboding. "Something's happened," he said, and hurried them over to the television, where a news broadcast was taking place, the lights from the screen casting an eerie glow in the darkened room. Dread settled into the pit of Donghae’s stomach, colder than seawater.
A woman reporter was on the screen, speaking rapidly in formal language while behind her the live shot went blurry with a chaotic jumble of people and flashing lights from police vehicles and the jagged beam of helicopter spotlights.
"Once again, we have had a report that the black utility vehicle on the scene had Prince Choi Siwon as its passenger; no others have yet been confirmed at this time..."
Gradually the sound of the woman's voice grew fainter and fainter, and Donghae came to realize that the roar of static he heard wasn't the sea outside but the rushing of his own blood in his ears. From the corner of his vision, he saw Kyuhyun looking uncharacteristically at a loss, tugging at his hair as he paced the room and tried over and over to contact Yesung on the phone.
That's useless, Donghae thought, surfacing through the strange calm haze of his mind. He's probably with Siwon right now.
And before he had actively decided to do so, Donghae was walking, moving down the hallway to his room. Once there, he got out his duffel bag and set it on the bed, and then began stuffing his clothes and all his other accumulated belongings inside it.
Kibum followed him, leaning against the doorframe with his hands shoved in his pockets and looking younger than Donghae had ever seen him. His skin was sickly pale, and with sudden wrench in his gut Donghae remembered how Kibum's mother had died in a car accident.
"Even if you go, there's nothing you can do to help right now," Kibum said.
Donghae didn't look up again from his packing. "I should be there. I never should have come here. I should-I don't know. It doesn't matter. I have to go back there, tonight."
"It's too late-there's no ferries going over until morning, and even after that, Donghae, it's a four hour drive."
Donghae pressed his lips together, and shoved one shoe into the corner of his duffel, not really caring that he still hadn't found the other. "You're right. That's why we'll go to the airport."
Kibum's voice echoed hollow with shock. "You're going to fly? Donghae, on an airplane?"
"I told you, I have to go back."
Kibum continued to try and persuade him. "The whole reason for bringing you here was to get you out of the media's claws. Now you want to go and fling yourself face-first into the fire?"
"I should be there," Donghae insisted, forcing the zipper closed with shaking hands, and he moved to put his back to Kibum so the other boy wouldn't see. "It's ridiculous that I'm hiding out here when something like that's happening back home." And Siwon can get as pissed off at me as he likes, I don't care, Donghae added silently, jaw already set.
Finished packing, Donghae flung his duffel over his shoulder and brushed past Kibum into the hallway, calling as he went, "Kyu-oh, you're here."
The young aide was also packed, and a flash of satisfaction lit his eyes as soon as Donghae emerged. "The car's waiting outside. There's a flight leaving in fifty minutes that they'll hold for us on the tarmac."
Donghae looked at Kibum, who just sighed and shook his head, resigned. "Go then. I'll catch up tomorrow. I have to bring my bike back, anyway."
Donghae hesitated, then impulsively caught the younger boy up in a tight hug. "See you back home," he muttered into Kibum's hair, then released him, glimpsing the startled expression on his face before turning back to Kyuhyun and nodding for him to lead the way.
"Let's go," Donghae said, and tried not to think about Siwon, or flying, or crashing-or anything at all.
~*~
"I'm sorry, sir," Kyuhyun's voice echoed regretfully through the phone. "Master Donghae and Master Kibum are not in at the moment. Shall I take a message?"
The prince blinked down at the top of his desk for a moment, wondering why he felt disgruntled. "No, that won't be necessary," he replied to the aide. "I'll call again at another time."
"Very well, sir," Kyuhyun said, and Siwon slid his phone shut, ending the call.
Not for the first time, Siwon wondered if he had made the right decision to send Donghae into seclusion so soon after the media fiasco that had occurred at his friends' apartment building. Especially considering the reaction to said seclusion had been even more wild speculation, to the point where the paparazzi were nearly camping twenty-four seven outside the palace gates now, hoping for a long-range shot of the prince's elusive other half.
Sighing, Siwon set down his phone and picked up a manila folder from his desk, skimming its contents for the hundredth time before tossing it back down. He massaged his temples, feeling a headache begin to form behind his eyes. There was just too much to be dealing with already. Aside from the royal family's public image problems, the elder King Choi's health had taken a turn for the worse in recent days, causing Siwon's father to spend more time with him, relying on Siwon to pick up the slack with regards to the day-to-day administrative affairs of the palace.
Siwon sat at his desk, brooding, gaze fixed on the stack of paperwork waiting for him without really seeing it. Sometimes he thought it had been a mistake to send Donghae to the estate at Jeju-but if he were being honest, Siwon mostly just wished he could have gone along.
Two hours. That's all he needed. Two hours of not being here: of not thinking about the hundreds of things he was responsible for, not thinking about the schoolwork he was woefully behind on; of not thinking about the next day's schedule, or if he could manage four hours sleep instead of three.
Slowly, he opened a desk drawer, pulling out the envelope he'd received in the mail yesterday, which he'd done his best to put out of his mind ever since. The envelope contained two tickets and a short note. Please come, it read. Bring anyone along, but please do come.
Two hours, Siwon thought, somewhat desperately, and made up his mind. He slipped the envelope into the pocket of his shirt and stood up, facing the doorway just as Yesung entered holding a fresh stack of documents that no doubt needed Siwon's immediate attention.
"Have the car brought around to the back entrance, would you please?" the prince asked before his secretary could open his mouth to speak. Yesung set his burden down on a nearby table and gave the prince a knowing look.
"Will you be visiting the university, your Highness?"
Yesung was a little too knowing, sometimes. Siwon sighed, rubbing his jaw, then did something he'd been brought up never to do-ask the opinion of a servant. "Is it very hypocritical of me?"
Yesung blinked, the only evidence that he'd been taken aback by the prince's question. But the secretary dropped his gaze and inclined his head as he answered. "Yes, your Highness. A little."
Siwon plucked his suit jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged it on. "Tonight, I can live with a little hypocrisy," he muttered, and walked into the courtyard with Yesung trailing in his wake.
"Very well, sir," the secretary said, adding under his breath, "Security is not going to be happy about this."
*
The tickets were reserved not for the front, but for Siwon's usual place at the back of the balcony seating. The university was famous for its performing arts program, and the auditorium located just on-campus was impressively large.
Siwon slipped in late, grateful for the darkness of the theater, and took his seat alone. The ballet had already begun, soft strands of classical music weaving a soothing harmony that the dancers onstage followed, showing off their litheness and grace.
Fifteen minutes into the performance, Siwon knew that going there had been a mistake. The weight in his chest only grew heavier, not lighter, when Hankyung came onto the stage for his solo. The dancer moved across the stage as if he'd been born to it, and Siwon had watched him hundreds of times like this, or in rehearsals. But something about it had changed; or, more likely, Siwon had changed. Watching Hankyung didn't make Siwon catch his breath anymore, and he felt the loss poignantly.
After the performance had ended, Siwon moved out of habit towards the backstage entrance where he had used to meet Hankyung, hiding his face with a bouquet of flowers that Hankyung had always wrinkled his nose at and made Siwon laugh sheepishly at the failure of his rare romantic gestures.
Tonight, Siwon's hands were empty. He felt anxious and exposed, and he wondered if it would be better to leave without saying anything. The only thing that kept him moving forward was the knowledge that there was no one else there to greet Hankyung-his aunt and uncle had never supported his chosen career, and he had barely spoken to them since entering school. He'd won his scholarship and his place in the university's prestigious ballet academy entirely on his own merit and kept it with endless hard work.
Siwon had always been proud of him. Swallowing with difficulty, Siwon stared down at his hands before moving somewhat stiffly to clasp them behind his back. He understood now; he'd been wrong to ask Hankyung to leave with him, that time before. Siwon had been wrong about a lot of things.
"You came. I didn't know if you would."
Siwon turned, and there was Hankyung, his face and hair still damp from exertion. He put a hand on Siwon's arm, pulling them off to a niche in the wall that was sheltered by the fall of a damask curtain. Once they'd moved, Hankyung didn't take his hand away. His eyes stayed fixed on Siwon's face, shining over-bright with relief and longing, and Siwon wished he would stop.
"I should get back soon, before I'm seen," Siwon said, moving back just far enough to remove his arm from Hankyung's grip. The other boy's face immediately became more guarded, as if he'd remembered himself.
"Siwon," Hankyung said, speaking softly, but the prince could still hear the pleading note in his tone. "I'm glad you came. I've missed you."
The few weeks they hadn't seen each other felt then to Siwon more like a stretch of years. He looked at Hankyung and saw nothing but a sense of the insurmountable distance now between them, and it made Siwon feel more tired than he had all week, the exhaustion settling like an ache into his bones.
When Siwon didn't reply, Hankyung spoke again, shifting closer. "I've thought about it, and I understand. Things can't be like they were. But Siwon, you don't have to push me away, or pretend you feel nothing."
"It's impossible," Siwon shook his head, trying to find a way to explain. "With the situation as it is... even a whisper of a scandal would-"
"We were together for two years. No one discovered us."
Siwon remembered the loud ringing of a cellphone, and running reckless down a flight of stairs. "That's not entirely true," Siwon corrected, then didn't see any point in withholding the rest. "Donghae knows."
Hankyung frowned in confusion. "Him? You told him?"
"Not exactly," Siwon said, and squarely met Hankyung's eyes with his own. "But even if that were not so, I still made an oath. I vowed fidelity, loyalty."
"To a stranger," Hankyung countered. "Someone you don't even know. And he doesn‘t know you."
Siwon thought of Donghae, and could easily picture the other boy's face-his messy hair, his too-loud laughter, the way his eyes glazed over whenever Siwon attempted to discuss anything related to politics or diplomacy. "That's... irrelevant," Siwon said, after hesitating.
"Not so long ago you were ready to run away to escape this." Hankyung said, clasping Siwon's forearms and holding tight. "I don't understand how you seem to have accepted it so easily."
God, do you really think this is easy for me? Siwon wanted to say-to shout, even, loud enough for his own frustration to reverberate off the walls. "What's been done is done, and can't be changed," Siwon said instead, holding himself very still. "And since I can do nothing else, I will abide by the dictates of my honor."
"Honor," Hankyung echoed hollowly. His hands released Siwon's arms, falling limply to his sides. "For that reason, you'll act like we were nothing to each other." He finally looked away, no longer attempting to search the prince's face for a cue that wasn't there. "Just tell me one thing, then-tell me why you came here tonight."
Siwon reached out for the first time, briefly touching the other boy's shoulder-because he hadn't come for this, but he couldn't say even that much. "To say goodbye," Siwon told him, feeling cold and aching all over.
Hankyung only nodded, eyes shut, as if that was what he'd been expecting. When his eyes opened again, they were brimming dark with resignation. "All right," he murmured. "You've said it. So just go."
Because Hankyung was right, and there was nothing more that could be said, Siwon left.
*
Siwon watched the city pass by through the car's tinted windows, lights turning to streaks of neon and buildings flashing by in a blur. Sometimes he considered telling the driver to pull over-to let him off at some anonymous corner, and he'd go explore the city on foot, seeing everything in focus for once.
He propped his chin on his fist, wondering if he could persuade Yesung to allow it somehow-but the aide was stricter than the members of the prince's bodyguard, most times. Besides, Siwon had already done enough wandering astray for one night.
Sitting in the seat across from him, Yesung cleared his throat. "If you like, your Highness, we could review your upcoming schedules now."
Siwon sat up straighter, pulling his gaze from the window. "Go ahead," he nodded, glad for the distraction if not exactly for the nature of it.
The secretary pulled out his Blackberry and began to go through the date book, rattling off the lists of meetings and appointments, ending with invitations to special events. One in particular caught Siwon's attention, and he held up a hand, asking Yesung to repeat it.
Yesung tapped the screen, the glow from it bright in the darkness of the car's interior. "The Children's Charity banquet, sir? There was a conflict with the timing, I believe-"
The prince never heard the rest, because a horn suddenly blared, too loud and too close, and in the next second Siwon was jerked roughly against his seatbelt, ears deafened by the crumple and screech of metal as the car was impacted on the passenger side. The world went spinning end over end, and Siwon cracked his skull hard enough against something to cause his vision to gray out around the edges.
When he came back to his senses, the world was tilted at a confusing angle, blurry and confusing. Siwon lifted a shaking hand, wiping blood from his eye, and realized the car had tipped sideways. The seatbelt was digging painfully into his chest, his body half-dangling from it, and his mouth and nose were filled with the choking odor of burnt rubber and smoke. There were too many noises to make sense of, and Siwon's head throbbed painfully so he didn't try, just focused as best as he could at getting himself free of the seatbelt.
He became dimly aware of voices calling out, and soon after the faces of strangers appeared through the shattered-open window, asking if he was okay, if he was hurt. When one of the strangers recognized who exactly he was, Siwon cursed under his breath, closing his eyes against a particularly sharp stab from his head, hearing the man calling out excitedly to everyone outside.
Someone shone a flashlight through the window, making Siwon wince at the brightness-but with it he finally saw Yesung, laying still on the ground, and the sudden rush of fear and anxiety cleared the last of the confused haze from his mind. "Call for an ambulance," he commanded, saying it to anyone who tried to speak to him and nothing else until it was obeyed. He renewed his struggle with the seatbelt, freeing himself finally when one of the people outside passed him a switchblade through the window.
He maneuvered carefully through the glass and debris of the interior, taking the flashlight and crouching down next to Yesung to check him over for any injuries. Siwon couldn't be sure, but he thought the aide's left arm might have been broken, or dislocated.
The prince didn't relax until he heard the distant sound of sirens from emergency vehicles, but immediately tensed up against when he realized the sounds had stopped, and weren't moving any closer.
"What's happening? What's going on?" he called out, voice already turning hoarse, until someone finally answered him-the helpful old man who'd had the knife.
"The streets are jammed up with cars and people, for a block in either direction. They can't get through. Some damn idiots called the news stations first, and now there's spectators everywhere."
Siwon cursed, long and fluid. He tried standing up at an awkward angle to open the door that faced up to the sky, but it had been deformed by the impact from the other vehicle and wouldn't budge, and straining against it was only making him dizzy.
The ache in Siwon's head kept getting sharper, his vision still fuzzing out from time to time. He was reasonably sure he was slightly concussed but that didn’t stop him. He clambered over the passenger seats to check on the driver, and found the man in an even worse condition than Yesung, bleeding profusely from a gash on his arm. It was difficult to work in the cramped space, but Siwon tore off the sleeve of his shirt and used it to tie around the driver's arm. The sirens outside continued wailing at an ear-rattling pitch, but made no further progress. After a few more minutes Siwon heard the crackle of policemen on megaphones, telling the crowds of cars and people to disperse.
"The medics are going to come on foot-just hang on, hang on," called the old man. "Shit, the reporters keep trying to stop them and ask them questions, the damn idiots-stay here, I'll go bring them."
Siwon sat, slumping against the floor-that was actually the car door-and found himself laughing weakly, dropping his aching head into his hands as he chuckled and only when he couldn't quite stop himself did he think he might be displaying the symptoms of shock.
He'd wanted two hours of freedom, just for one night. And yet, somehow the prince’s short, low-key outing had managed to turn out even more disastrously than Donghae's. Maybe it was a sign.
Oh, Siwon thought hazily, and used his remaining sleeve to dab at the cut that was still bleeding on his forehead. I was supposed to call him back, wasn't I?
Siwon hunched his back, twisting and ignoring the protests of his bruises to grope in his pockets. He pulled out his cellphone, and stared with a vague feeling of dismay at the large cracks shot through the blackened display screen.
~*~
Donghae was opening the door to the taxi and getting out almost before it had completely slowed to a stop. He left his duffel, left Kyuhyun, and walked through the palace hallways before breaking into a jog, distantly thankful that in two weeks he hadn't forgotten the way.
When he entered the courtyard he was panting for breath, looking around the empty space and feeling his stomach sink low with worry because Siwon wasn't there.
Kyuhyun caught up a few moments later. "I thought you said at the airport that they were on their way back from the hospital already," Donghae said, as soon as the aide had come into speaking distance. From what he understood, it had taken almost two hours just to get Siwon and the others out of the smashed car and to the hospital, but that was something Donghae really didn't want to think about.
"They are, sir," Kyuhyun nodded. "Prince Siwon is, at least. They were discussing keeping Yesung for further observation. His dislocated shoulder was reset, but the doctors might want to keep an eye on it. Anyway, you kept telling the taxi driver to speed so much that we might have beat them home. I'm sure the prince is only a few minutes behind us. And he may go see the King and Queen first before coming in to rest."
Donghae nodded, but still couldn't help looking around the garden while chewing on his lower lip. He wouldn't stop being anxious till he had seen for himself that Siwon was alright.
Donghae turned to the younger aide, frowning at him. "You should go rest, too. And put some ice on your arm," he added with a guilty wince. Flying on the plane had been the single most harrowing experience of Donghae's life. He'd kept his eyes shut tight the entire time, and hadn't even noticed till they'd hit the tarmac at Incheon that he'd been clutching at Kyuhyun's arm tight enough to leave bruises.
"It'll be fine, sir," Kyuhyun smiled, and it was the first time he’d done so all night. "I'm going to call the hospital again and see if Yesung stayed behind."
After the aide had left, Donghae stayed standing still for a few moments before beginning to gravitate towards the open door to Siwon's rooms. The curtains were drawn apart for once, and the rising of the sun cast enough orange-tinted light into the rooms for Donghae to clearly see there was no one inside, not even one of the servants.
He hovered in the doorway, struggling with a sense of being intrusive before taking the last few steps inside. It felt strange to be back after two weeks gone, and to be in the palace alone. It made Donghae uncomfortably aware that to him, Siwon had somehow become the most familiar thing in this place.
Walking to the polished mahogany desk, Donghae looked with sympathy over the piles of paperwork that seemed to be waiting the prince's return as impatiently as he was. Resting in the middle of the ink-blotter, a manila folder caught Donghae's eye, half of its papers spilling out as if it had been tossed down carelessly.
He knew he probably shouldn't-but as what usually happened in these kinds of situations, Donghae's curiosity got the better of him. He picked up the folder and began to skim through it. As he read, Donghae's eyes grew wider and wider with shock, a sickening nausea curling into his gut and rising up bitter in the back of his mouth.
Someone cleared their throat and Donghae dropped the folder with numbed fingers, whirling around to see the prince standing behind him. "Oh. You're back," Donghae said, in a spectacular display of stating the obvious.
"So are you," Siwon said, seeming about as pleased to see him as Donghae had expected. Which was to say, not very at all.
Donghae quickly looked him over, taking in everything from the bandaged cut above the prince's eye to the bloodied, torn shirt, and even the small rips in the material of his slacks. There were dark circles under the prince's eyes and he looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in years. But even in spite of all that, he still managed to give off an air of being more put-together than Donghae felt.
"You're okay?" Donghae blurted, finally asking the pressing question that had been occupying his thoughts for the past four hours or so.
"I'm fine. Just bruises and scrapes," Siwon answered, and gave Donghae an odd look. "You came by plane? I thought you had a phobia of flying."
"I do," Donghae muttered, and he would probably be having nightmares about it for the rest of his life-but that didn't even matter, really, because he was back now and Siwon was all right. Not that Donghae wasn't still incredibly pissed off at him, just then.
"This," Donghae said, and picked up the folder he dropped before. "Siwon, what the hell is this?"
Siwon's eyes flicked to it, and his face immediately closed down, revealing nothing. "That," he said, coldly, "isn't anything for you to concern yourself with."
Donghae wasn't about to let the matter drop so easily. He met Siwon’s stare, his own eyes narrowing. "These reports of protests, hate-mail, even death threats-you didn't think I had a right to know?" Donghae thought of all the days he'd spent in Jeju, sleeping-in and surfing, while back here Siwon had been dealing with this all on his own-keeping it secret, even.
"A certain amount of anti-political sentiment is normal towards any hierarchically bourgeoisie social body," Siwon said, speaking as if he were reciting from a manual for arrogant bastards, and Donghae was beginning to get more than pissed off at being treated like an ignorant child-now, he was downright furious.
"I read it, okay? The report." So saying, Donghae dropped the folder back to the desk, slamming his palm flat on top of it. "Thirty-percent, that's how much it's gone up since the ceremony. Despite what you think, I'm not an idiot. I know it's happening because of me." Donghae could have cursed the way his voice broke over the last word, but he kept his jaw set, teeth clenched against the waves of guilt and doubt that were surging in competition with his anger.
"It was important that the media remain uninformed of those statistics-" Siwon began, but Donghae broke in, interrupting him.
"I don't care about them-you could have told me. I would have wanted to know, Siwon. I can help you, even, if you'll just let me."
"Like the press conference you refused to do?" Siwon snapped back, the stony mask of his expression cracking at last, crumbling away under his own frustration. "Or the way you helped matters by sneaking out, when you'd been specifically told to stay here."
"I'm sorry, okay? How many times do I have to say it? I was wrong, I know." Donghae's hands were curled into fists at his sides, and he was shaking by then, but he wasn't about to stop. "And maybe you've been raised to it-but for the rest of us, the idea of being on television with the entire world watching, waiting for you to make a mistake, is kind of terrifying."
"So don't try," Siwon growled, his countenance as dark and foreboding as nighttime clouds. "Don't involve yourself, and especially don't imagine that your presence here is anything more than ornamentation."
I was such an idiot, Donghae thought, Siwon's word hitting him like a kick to the gut, and he hated himself for the way it hurt. There's no place for me here, nothing I can do but cause trouble.
Donghae heard a voice in his head, then, faded with age and illness but still strong. On his first night in the palace, the elder King Choi had spoken with him, convincing Donghae to stay with the plea to save his grandson-from what, Donghae hadn't known at the time. Now Donghae suspected it might possibly be the overwhelming force of the prince's own arrogance.
"Why did you do it?" Donghae heard himself ask, voice trembling along with the rest of him. "Why did you agree to this, if it's such a burden?"
The prince broke eye-contact, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "The betrothal contract-" he said, and Donghae wanted to laugh, or maybe break things.
"The contract was for your cousin," Donghae pointed out. "And when was he was gone, it was your duty to take his place." At this, Siwon glanced up, fixing Donghae with a sharp stare. "Well, Kibum's back now," Donghae said, voice going low and bitter, so he could hardly recognize the sound of it. "So why don't you just send me off to be his problem, again?"
"Because you're my problem," the prince snapped, almost snarling, his eyes glinting black and furious. "And we're both going to have to learn to live with that."
Donghae decided he couldn't take any more. He hated being angry, and he hated arguing, and he especially hated the feeling that he was upset about more than just this, but not recognizing what. "Fine," he growled, giving up, and he stalked towards the door, brushing roughly past Siwon as he went.
"Fine," Siwon shot back, and then Donghae was slamming the door behind himself with as much force as he could muster. After he crossed the courtyard to his own room, he slammed his door shut, too, hearing it echo off the walls with a satisfying bang.
Donghae threw himself face-first onto the bed, still burning hot and cold all over his skin. As soon as he touched the mattress, he remembered that he hadn't eaten or slept since the day before. With the sudden lack of adrenalin coursing through his blood, he remembered that he was exhausted, emotionally and physically. And the prince, too, had just come home from being involved in a brutal car-wreck-neither of them were exactly at their best.
Even recognizing all of this, Donghae still couldn't hold down the force of his feelings. The back of his throat felt tight, his eyes dry and aching, and every harsh word Siwon had said still rang in his ears like gunshots.
He reached for his phone, thinking to drown it out with music, and saw that he had fourteen missed calls, twelve of which were from Sungmin and Hyukjae. Hitting the call back button, Donghae was almost touched when Hyukjae answered after the first ring, right away rattling off a litany of anxious questions.
“Donghae, oh my god. Are you okay? You're still in Jeju, right? You're not dead? How about the prince, is the prince okay? He's also not dead?”
"I'm fine, I'm back at the palace, I'm not dead, Siwon's not dead, and he's a bastard," Donghae scowled down at his pillow, punching it a few times and imagining Siwon's face in its hollows and wrinkles.
"Come again?"
"He's a bastard. A jerk. He's a bastard-jerk," Donghae muttered, and tossed the abused pillow against the wall for good measure.
"What happened-tell me everything," Hyukjae demanded, and so Donghae recounted the fight for him, heavily editing the parts about the death threats and leaving the reason for the fight as a nebulous and vague sort of disagreement.
"So, yeah. He's a jerk," Donghae reasserted once he was done, feeling that particular point couldn't be made too clear.
On the other end of the phone, Hyukjae was unusually silent, to the point where Donghae had to prompt him to speak after a minute with an exasperated, "Well? Say something."
"Hae," Hyukjae began, slow and hesitant. "I don't think that this has occurred to you yet, but..."
"But what?"
"It sounds like-like maybe you're starting to have feelings for the prince."
"What?" Donghae asked blankly, feeling as if someone had dropped a bomb on the palace, the vibrations of it running like chills along his spine. He then launched immediately into denial. "No. No way. You're crazy, because he's an arrogant bastard, and I hate him."
"Don't you see? That's just it, Hae-you never hate anybody. You didn't even hate your last girlfriend when she dumped you on your birthday in front of everyone at school. And you never lose your temper, never-not unless it's really, really serious."
"That was different," Donghae tried to protest, sitting up to stare unseeing at the wall. "That-I mean, she-"
"Yeah, it's different," Hyukjae agreed. "Because you didn't care about her, not as much as you do the prince." The other boy's tone was gentle with sympathy, and Donghae decided he really, really didn’t like being pitied for stuff that wasn't true.
"You're wrong." Donghae shook his head-but too much, and it made the room spin a little. "That's crazy. And wrong. And I have to hang up now." He snapped his phone shut and dropped it onto his mattress, staring at it reproachfully. It lit up and rang as his friend tried to call back, but Donghae ignored it, all the while wondering why his heart was beating so fast over something so stupid and obviously fabricated by Hyukjae's weird imagination.
The phone stopped ringing. Donghae waited, but the other boy didn't try again, apparently deciding to leave him in peace. "You're wrong," Donghae said once more, whispering it out loud to the empty room.
Against his will, his gaze moved to the windows, looking across the courtyard to Siwon's rooms. The curtains were still open, and Donghae could see the prince sitting at his desk, going over the documents that had been left overnight. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his filthy clothes first; let alone sleep, or eat something.
Donghae wanted to go back there and shout at him some more, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until Siwon stopped doing his duties for five damn seconds and actually let himself rest for once.
Donghae sucked in a breath, and looked away. I'm not, he thought, and even in his own mind, he sounded desperate. I'm not falling for him.
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© 2008
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a/n: Thanks so much to taylormercury, aconite, meitachi, fading_sun_sock... basically everyone who offered encouragement and/or enthusiasm when I was moaning over this chapter, because it really does mean a lot to me. ♥
6/01/2010 - this chapter is the edited and reposted version of the original.