[fic] SuperJunior - "Painted as Opposites" (10/?)

[byulmnida]

Title: Painted as Opposites [Chapter 10]
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 | #



------------------------Chapter 10------------------------

Every flash of the photographers' cameras made Donghae want to flinch and go hide, but the steadying presence of Yesung at his side reminded Donghae that he needed to be strong, to put on a brave face and keep smiling.

Also, Yesung had a pretty firm grip for a guy who'd just recovered from a dislocated shoulder injury.

They were attending the annual Children's Charity Banquet, where it seemed to Donghae that the wealthy, famous, and influential people of the country had gathered to shake their heads pityingly over the poor orphan kids, listen to incredibly boring speeches, and show off their designer clothes and accessories for the media-along with their generous and philanthropic donations, of course.

Donghae thought it was a fairly lame event. Not that he didn't have sympathy for the orphans, or whatever. In fact, if not for Grandpa Lee taking Donghae in after his parents had died, he would have probably shared their fate. No-the event was lame, really, because it was supposed to be a banquet, right? And yet all the tables set out by the catering company had hardly any good food on them. There was also a completely unacceptable lack of strawberry cream tarts, and Donghae would have had strong words with the palace Events Coordinator about the matter if the woman weren't so formidable, intimidating, and unapproachable.

Normally Donghae would have pestered Kyuhyun into talking to her on his behalf, but Sungmin and Hyukjae had demanded the aide come along on their vacation with them, as part of their concession for letting the prince and Donghae out of the closet they'd been locked in. Personally, Donghae had thought Siwon's offer of a free week-long stay at the Jeju estate was more than generous, but they'd held out for their own personal manservant to sweeten the deal.

Kyuhyun's cold look of betrayal as he'd gotten into the car to drive Hyukjae and Sungmin to the airport had spoken volumes, but Donghae figured the young aide would get over it. Eventually, someday.

"Am I supposed to be doing something?" Donghae muttered to Yesung, looking around the room as he fidgeted with the cuffs on his shirt. "Like, you know-mingling, schmoozing the reporters... I mean, what Siwon is doing?"

Yesung cleared his throat. "His Highness said that if you did not feel comfortable-and I quote-'don't force yourself,' sir."

"But I thought we were here to generate some good P.R. for the palace, or whatever?"

"You and the prince are here because this is the Queen's favorite fundraiser, and you're attending in her absence."

Donghae frowned. "Is that like a royal thing? Should I have my own favorite fundraiser? Because I always say screw the pandas-if they don't like making babies, they're not worth saving. That's my philosophy."

The aide gave Donghae a familiar withering look. Weirdly enough, Donghae had found he'd missed seeing it. "Is there any particular humanitarian issue you feel passionate about, sir?"

Drawing a blank, Donghae scratched his neck awkwardly. "I... don't really know," he said, feeling common and ignorant.

"Well, Master Donghae, you're scheduled to attend a dozen more fundraisers in the next few months-perhaps you'll find something."

Donghae made a noncommittal noise, picking absently at the pyramid of shrimp puffs on his plate. He thought of the prince's dismissive words, don't force yourself, and felt a bit useless.

Later, while wandering the perimeter of the room in an attempt to look like he was mingling without having to actually talk to anyone, Donghae came across the tables where they'd sat the group of children who had attended as representatives for the city's orphanages. The children for the most part looked exactly like Donghae felt-dressed up in uncomfortable clothes in an attempt to look cute and presentable, and very bored.

Some of the younger ones had been provided with crayons and coloring books, to keep them quiet, and Donghae's fingers itched as soon as he saw those. Donghae looked around, but nobody was watching-Yesung had gone to attend the prince for a while-so Donghae thought he could probably get away with semi-ditching the event for a few minutes.

Donghae pulled up a chair, plopping down next to a young girl with her curly hair up in pigtails, who looked around four or five years old. "Hi," Donghae told her, smiling his friendliest smile.

The little girl blinked at him.

He gestured to her crayons, "Can I share these with you?"

The little girl blinked again, then nodded.

Happily, Donghae helped himself to the crayons and a blank page in one of the coloring books, and began to doodle. It was a habit he'd always had, especially during classes at school-Donghae was forever begging notes off Sungmin or Hyukjae, because he'd spent the entire period drawing weird nonsense instead of paying attention to the lecture.

Eventually he sketched out a funny caricature of the girl, hoping to get her to crack a smile. But when he showed it to her, the little girl merely tilted her head to one side, examining the drawing and then pointing skeptically at herself as if to say, that's me? Donghae had to laugh. She was a tough customer.

"That's you," he said, still grinning. "I'm Donghae, by the way. What's your name?"

"Sunny," she said, soft as a mouse.

Obviously, Donghae would have to pull out the stops for this one-but he didn't mind a challenge. "Hey Sunny, do you want to see a magic trick?"

Some of the other kids at the table were paying attention by that time, leaning closer or craning for a look around the large floral centerpieces. But little Sunny merely considered his offer carefully before offering a solemn, "Yes."

Donghae certainly wasn't a David Copperfield, but he did know a little bit of sleight-of-hand that his Grandfather had taught to him. He picked up a red crayon, twirling it in his fingers a few times before making an impressive-looking gesture and vanishing it. A couple of the kids squeaked a bit in surprise. Sunny merely blinked at him.

Not going to be defeated by a kindergartner, Donghae picked up two more crayons-for each hand, this time-and performed the vanishing trick again, with an exaggerated flourish and a "Ta-da!" at the end of it. And he fervently hoped the crayons weren't leaving any kind of marks on the inside of his sleeves-because if they did, Yesung would surely kill Donghae in a very grotesque and messy way. But the other kids at the table cheered for him, and Sunny finally did it-she giggled.

That's when the flash of a camera going off called Donghae's attention to the fact that a group of journalists and reporters had gathered around them, watching Donghae's performance as well.

Oh, crap, Donghae thought, and froze like a deer caught in headlights. He wished he could slink away from them all, or even hide under the tablecloth-because every glaring headline ever printed about Donghae since the day he'd taken the Oath with the prince was suddenly flashing before his eyes. And as the cameras continued to click pictures, flashing lights, all Donghae could imagine was 'GAY PALACE SEXCAPADES REVEALED', and he wanted very much for the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

The little girl, Sunny, was still watching Donghae expectantly, as if he were a new and fascinating species of creature she'd discovered. It occurred then to Donghae that she was only sitting here, in this fancy hotel banquet room, because there was nobody in the world who wanted her. Donghae's heart broke into a hundred little pieces.

Gathering his courage around himself like a mantle, Donghae slowly stood up from his chair. He put on a bright smile, then held out his hand to Sunny. "Do you want to get your picture taken, pretty girl?" he asked her.

She considered Donghae's hand for a few seconds, then shrugged and put her hand in his. "Sure."

Wishing he felt half as nonchalant about the situation as Sunny did, Donghae led her over to the group of journalists, keeping his smile screwed on tight, even when each camera flashing in his face made him want to take cover behind the nearest potted plant. The media people immediately started to pepper Donghae with questions, all of them talking over each other. Donghae broke out into a sweat, wretchedly uncomfortable-but he steeled his backbone, refusing to run away. Somehow, he had to face this.

"Um," Donghae said, cleverly, then tried again. "That is, you know-me? I'm not that great, really." Looking down to the little girl at his side, Donghae saw her calm, unaffected expression-she was like a mini-Siwon, almost-and felt a bit more confident. He knew what he had to do. "But, my friend Sunny here? I thought you guys should meet her, because she's amazing."

Sunny looked straight into the nearest video camera, recording everything for one of the bigger TV stations. "I can tie my shoes by myself," she said.

Donghae couldn't help but grin at that, and he relaxed even further. "I still have trouble with that one." To his gratification, a few of the reporters laughed, and it gave him all the encouragement he needed to go on.

"Listen, I know that there's been a lot of-of excitement about me," he said, groping for the words he wanted. "And about the prince, and the Oath of Brotherhood. But it's been a month since that happened, already, and I figured I should stop hiding from it.

"I don't want the attention. Not for me, at least. But if we can maybe take some of this crazy energy, and publicity, and point it at places where it's really needed-" Saying this, he looked back down to Sunny, "-then, hopefully, something good can come out of all this."

One reporter spoke into the pause after his little speech. "Prince Donghae, are you saying you intend to get personally involved with children's charity organizations?"

"Yes, I do. I mean, I'll try my best," Donghae said, sincere, while biting his cheek to keep himself from correcting the 'Prince' thing.

The reporters asked a few more questions, and to Donghae's intense relief, none of them were about Siwon. He answered the questions, trying not to stammer or babble nervously too much-and when he did not declare war on a foreign territory by saying something unintentionally stupid, Donghae tentatively decided that the whole 'press conference' idea might not have been completely insane and impossible, after all.

Until one of the reporters, after scribbling furiously in her notebook, looked over Donghae's shoulder and directed her question to someone standing behind him. "Prince Siwon, has the palace merely staged this event here for the sake of good public relations? Or is your husband speaking out of an earnest desire to contribute to the cause of homeless and orphaned children?"

Inwardly, a part of Donghae curled up and died at the word 'husband'; but that reaction was quickly upstaged by a sudden swooping sensation in his stomach when he realized that Siwon must be standing right there.

Then, to Donghae's complete and total shock, Siwon walked forward till he was standing at Donghae's side, and he reached out and clasped Donghae's free hand in his own.

"I believe," the prince said, smiling and radiating confidence and charisma from every pore, "from my own experience, that my partner will do nothing less than exactly what he says he will."

The prince's hand was warm, his grip strong and sure, and Donghae didn't think he had just imagined the slight emphasis Siwon had used on the word 'partner'.

The room buzzed and cameras began to go off even more, dazzling Donghae with the flashes, like walking into a room full of diamonds and sunlight. Donghae felt buoyed up by a wave of emotion, happiness and gratitude expanding like helium in his lungs. Donghae looked away from the sea of strangers faces and glittering lights, and looked only at the prince.

And for the first time since coming to live at the palace and taking the Oath, Donghae thought to himself: I can do this.

*

After the charity luncheon, Donghae and the prince were sitting together in the car on the way back to the palace, and for one reason or another Donghae couldn't keep himself from looking over at the prince every few minutes, staring like an idiot.

He wasn't even being subtle about it, either, because eventually Siwon frowned, brushing at his mouth and cheeks. "What is it? Do I have something on my face?"

Blushing, Donghae averted his gaze towards the window. "No, I was just-Sorry. Never mind."

"Tell me," came the prince's soft command.

Donghae looked back, and saw Siwon's expression was open for once, encouraging. Taking a deep breath, Donghae let loose the question that had been tumbling around in his mind and hanging off the tip of his tongue. "Did you mean it?" Donghae asked. "About the... when you said that-that we were partners."

Siwon turned his head slightly, giving Donghae a sidelong look, and Donghae resisted the urge to shiver. "Of course," the prince said. "I wouldn't have said so, if I did not mean it."

"Okay," Donghae said. He couldn't think of anything more intelligent-not over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

They rode in silence a while longer, and Donghae found himself once more casting his eyes along the clean lines of Siwon's profile. The other's dark eyes reflected the scenery that flowed past them like water in a stream, and as Donghae studied the curve of the other boy's mouth, he thought he saw a crack in the armor; a shadow under the veneer of calm stoicism.

Donghae moved closer, laying a hand on the prince's arm. "Hey," he said, catching the prince's attention. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"How...?" The prince seemed startled, but then shook his head. "I was going to tell you, soon. As part of this family, you should know."

Donghae waited, quiet and apprehensive.

"The old King... my grandfather. He's dying," Siwon said. "He doesn't have much time-a matter of days. Maybe a week or two, the doctors say. My aunt and cousins will be coming to the palace, to pay their respects."

Donghae's heart sank, though it was no secret that old King Choi had been sick for some time already. "I'm sorry, Siwon."

"It's not that I..." Hesitating, the prince seemed to be struggling to find the words to express himself. "It's only that I'm reminded of something. A rule that even I had forgotten."

"What rule?"

A small smile curled one corner of the prince's mouth, but never reached his eyes. "That even kings are mortal," he confessed. "And someday, it will be my own father that we bury." The prince looked out the window once more, gazing at nothing in particular. "And on that day, I will become the next king."

There might have been no other person in the world, at that moment, who had ever seen the Crown Prince so weak. Donghae's heart turned over in his chest, beating painfully, because finally he understood; Siwon was afraid.

"Yeah, that's true," Donghae said, wishing he were more of an eloquent speaker-wishing he knew the exact right thing to say. "But, you know, that's a long, long time from now. You'll be way older than you are now. And probably even wiser."

Awkward as the sentiment was, it seemed to reach the prince. He looked back to Donghae, one eyebrow quirked. "Probably?"

Donghae nodded, offering a grin. "And-there's one other thing." Feeling shy, with his stomach fluttering madly, Donghae forced himself to say the words, and to meet the prince's eyes as he did.

"No matter what happens, you won't be alone," Donghae promised.

The prince said nothing for a long, heavy moment. At last, though, he nodded. "I know," he said.

They stayed looking at each other in silence, and to Donghae the seconds seemed to stretch on and on, until he began to panic-because Donghae really, really wanted to kiss Siwon again. And if the prince continued looking at him like that, then Donghae would be unable to stop himself from doing it.

But because Donghae had never met a mood he couldn't kill (especially if he was nervous), he suddenly grinned, saying, "I have just one request, though."

"Yes?"

"Instead of Queen, could I get the title of Vice President, or something? Because I would really much prefer that."

To Donghae's complete delight, Siwon burst out laughing at the joke, his teeth gleaming white as he laughed and his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks, making him look young and utterly charming.

"We could probably arrange that," Siwon finally answered, still chuckling.

Oh, no. The problem hadn't gone away-if anything, now Donghae wanted to kiss Siwon even more.

Donghae was always very weak when it came to temptation.

Holding his breath, Donghae found his gaze centering on the prince's mouth. He leaned into Siwon, pulled like gravity and closing the distance between them. The prince had stopped laughing. He had become entirely still, in fact, like flicking a switch-and now Donghae was close enough to feel the ghost of the other boy's warm breath across his cheek. He paused with one hand on the leather seat, and the other braced against Siwon's thigh for balance. Last of all, Donghae's eyes flicked up to Siwon's, searching for any hint of objection...

Unbeknownst to Donghae, the car had already arrived back at the palace; however, he immediately became aware of that fact when the door on Siwon's side swung out, held open by the driver.

Faster than a squirrel, Donghae slid back into his seat, flushing red to the tips of his ears.

Infuriatingly, the prince only smirked and lifted one eyebrow at Donghae, before sliding gracefully out of the car. Trying to calm his blushes, Donghae opened the other door and got out on his own side, tucking his hands into his pockets in an attempt to look casual and nonchalant as he walked around the car.

"I have a meeting in a few minutes," was all the prince said. "Dinner will be at six. Don't-"

"Be late," Donghae finished for him, and sighed.

The prince began to leave, but hesitated. Unexpectedly he turned back to Donghae, lifting an arm and putting his hand on Donghae's shoulder, just where it met the curve of his neck. At this, every part of Donghae's body became intensely aware of every inch of skin that Siwon touched, the warmth of the other boy's hand feeling like a brand.

"You did very well today," the prince said, low and earnest. His fingers curled lightly against the nape of Donghae's neck, and Donghae couldn't even breathe. "I was proud of you, Donghae."

Dazed and unable to speak, Donghae just nodded.

The prince smiled like the sun coming out, dimpling again, and let go. "See you at dinner," he said, and waved as he walked through the doors into the palace.

Staring after the prince, it took Yesung three or four tries of clearing his throat before Donghae realized the young aide was trying to get Donghae's attention.

Feeling like he was wading out of a dream, Donghae blinked a few times at Yesung, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. "Um, yeah? I mean, yes?"

"You have a missed call, sir." The aide handed over Donghae's cellphone, which he had held for Donghae during the luncheon (insisting that keeping the phone in his pocket would ruin the 'line of Donghae's slacks', which Donghae personally found to be ridiculous. Still, Yesung was pretty much a recovering invalid, so Donghae indulged the aide's little whims when he could.)

The screen displayed the missed call as being from Kim Kibum, and Donghae hurriedly hit the talk button, holding the phone to his ear and speaking as soon as the line picked up, "Hey, where have you been? I was-"

"Moshi moshi?" The other person said, and Donghae felt a small chill run down his spine, because that was certainly not Kibum's voice.

"This is Donghae?" The deep voice held a thick foreign accent; though his tone was rough, Donghae could still understand.

"I-yes." Donghae pressed his phone a bit more against his ear, ducking his head to hide his anxiety. Something was wrong, he could feel it. Where the hell was Kibum? He hadn't returned any calls since Donghae had flown back from Jeju, and it didn't make any sense; why would Kibum suddenly drop off the face of the earth?

Then the man spoke again, and Donghae's blood turned to ice water at his words.

"Okay, Donghae, listen to me. If you don't want to see your friend Kibum sliced up in one million bloody fucking pieces, right now, you will do exactly what I say."

*

It had been an agony to sit through dinner and act like nothing was wrong. Donghae must have bitten his tongue a hundred times, desperately wanting to tell Siwon that his cousin was in trouble-but in the end, it was the Yakuza's-for Donghae had decided he could be nothing less than that)-threats that scared him into keeping silent. The prince gave a Donghae a few strange looks, but didn't overtly question the sudden lack of chatter, which made Donghae grateful. He forced himself to continuously shovel food down his throat for an excuse to not speak, regretting it when the meal sat in the bottom of his stomach and turned to stone every time the phone call from earlier replayed itself over in his mind.

After dinner, he escaped to his rooms and paced the floor with restless anxiety for an excruciatingly long two hours, until night blanketed the palace like a shield and Donghae felt secure enough to sneak out onto the grounds under the darkness. He glanced only once through the warmly-illuminated windows of Siwon's rooms as he walked past, throat tight with confessions and he nearly did it, nearly knocked on Siwon's door.

Remembering that Kibum had been waiting all this time, too, was the only thing that kept Donghae putting one foot in front of the other. He took a deep breath, pulling the straps of an empty backpack tight across his shoulders, and for the second time in his life he scaled the wall around the palace by the secret way Kibum had shown him.

Donghae didn't trust riding a bus to keep him anonymous anymore, so three blocks away he whistled for a taxi and took it to his grandfather's retirement home, keeping the brim of his baseball cap pulled low the whole ride.

"What's going on, boy?" the old man demanded as soon as he'd answered the door.

Donghae sat down on the faded couch, shrugging-but a heartbeat later he was on his feet again, pacing across the shaggy carpet, muscles tingling with electric bursts of fear the closer he came to finally following through with the Yakuza's demands. "Nothing, Grandpa, everything's fine. Dandy, even. Did you get the stuff that I asked for?"

Grandpa Lee frowned, gray and bristly eyebrows drawing together through the wrinkles on his forehead, and Donghae knew the old man didn't buy a word of Donghae's bullshit. He never had before and probably never would.

That's why Donghae was thankful when his grandfather merely grunted and handed over a bulky black canvas bag. Donghae snatched it and stuffed it into his backpack before the old man could change his mind. "Thanks, Grandpa. Okay, well, see you at Christmas-"

Of course, he wasn't going to get away that easy. Grandpa Lee's gravely deep voice froze Donghae in his tracks, one hand on the doorknob.

"I sure as hell hope you aren't running away, kiddo."

Donghae turned around, shock burying his sense of urgency for a few moments. "What? Why would you think that?"

"Sneaking around in the middle of the night, withdrawing the remainder of your college fund-that doesn't look so good, Lee Donghae."

Donghae could count on one hand the number of times his grandfather had used the full-name trick on him. The last occasion had been when Donghae had gotten himself suspended from school for filling a girl's desk with cooked ramen noodles.

Forcing himself to square his shoulders and look well-intentioned and purposeful, Donghae shook his head. "I'm not running away."

Grandpa Lee was silent for a second, piercing his grandson with an evaluating gaze. "Good," he said. "Because us two grandfathers, we're still counting on you to get the job done right."

"Job?" Donghae's heart stuttered on a beat. "What job? What am I supposed to do?"

"You haven't figured it out yet?" The old man snorted, but his weathered and lined face held only compassion and faith in his grandson. "Love him, of course."

Donghae's fingers spasmed on the doorknob; he had been gripping it tightly the whole time. He didn't have to ask who he was supposed to love. He didn't even have to ask why. And that scared Donghae more than anything in his life ever had.

Carefully, he opened the door, stepping out into the hallway and feeling in that moment that gravity was the only thing keeping the room from tilting off its axis. "I'm not running away," he repeated, even though suddenly that was exactly what it seemed like. "But I have something I gotta do right now."

Donghae left, and as soon as his feet hit the sidewalk outside the retirement home, he forgot all about catching another cab. The place he needed to go was miles away, but he didn't care. Donghae started running, flying through the city streets faster than thought, and even when his legs burned and his lungs ached for air, he didn't stop.

*

At last, six hours after he'd received the phone call, Donghae stood inside a broken-down warehouse on the riverfront, clutching the straps of his backpack across his chest with nerveless fingers, and thinking wryly about how much more eventful life had gotten since he'd come to live at the palace.

One of the Yakuza-the only one wearing a designer business suit, and Donghae pegged him for the leader-stood across the room. In one hand the man had Kibum's cellphone dangling from his fingers, while the other held a knife that was casually resting along the top of Kibum's shoulder. Donghae's eyes flickered helplessly between the man, the knife, and Kibum, who was sitting tied to a chair and looking at Donghae as if agonized to see him.

And that was just too bad, Donghae thought, squaring his jaw and tilting his chin with a show of confident determination he was nothing close to feeling. Because he'd come to fix things, and he was pretty much Kibum's only chance in the world for leaving this place with all of his internal organs intact. He swallowed past the cold knot in his throat, forcing himself not to flinch and step back as the Yakuza finally spoke to him.

"You bring the money?" The voice was the same as the phone-call: accented but understandable. He sounded almost bored, even.

"Yeah," Donghae said, swinging the backpack off his shoulders and holding it up by one strap. The Yakuza grunted, and gestured for Donghae to toss it to the ground between them.

As the bag hit the floor, puffing dust, Kibum made a choked sound and spoke for the first time. "Donghae," he said, but was stifled by the leader swiftly pressing the flat of his knife to Kibum's neck.

"Damare," the man growled. Kibum's lips pressed together, thin and pale, and Donghae took an involuntary step forward. "You wait. Don't move," the man barked, and Donghae obeyed. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, every limb feeling heavy and helpless.

The Yakuza muttered a swift string of Japanese to one of the three gangsters ringed around them, and the other man grabbed the backpack, dug out the black bag and quickly counted the stacks of bank notes inside, reporting the amount. Knife-Guy's eyebrows raised sharply, as if impressed. Donghae could only hope that was a good thing.

Apparently it was. The leader stepped away from Kibum to take the canvas bag for himself, after carelessly dropping Kibum's phone on the floor and threading the long knife through his belt. "What a good friend you have, Kibum-san. I thought for sure, we sell your kidneys on the black market. Too bad okaasan hit a bus before we can get to hers." The Yakuza laughed loudly, amused at his own joke. Kibum glared up at him, eyes gone black and murderous.

"You fucking asshole-" Kibum snarled, nearly spitting in his anger, but the leader took two strides towards Kibum and yanked his head back with a fist in Kibum's hair, looming over him with all trace of amusement erased from the sharp lines of the Yakuza's face.

"Watch your tongue, scum. Or I can cut it out for you," he hissed. Then, fast as a striking cobra, the Yakuza kicked Kibum's chair so that it toppled, with Kibum still tied to it and falling heavily on his right side, slamming into the dirt.

"Hey," Donghae shouted, so furious and terrified that his hands were trembling, but he couldn't take watching any more. "You got what you came for, so why don't you just get the hell out already?"

The leader glanced at Donghae contemptuously, before pulling his knife and bending down to saw at the ropes around Kibum's hands and feet. That done, he roughly hauled Kibum to his feet, the younger boy jerking away only to have his arms restrained by two other men flanking him on either side.

Passing the money to the third flunky he'd brought along, the Yakuza faced Kibum, who stopped struggling with his captors to glare at the man in open hatred. A line of blood had smeared down from his temple, cut when he'd hit the ground.

"Money is good," the Yakuza drawled, pacing a slow circle as he slid out of his expensive suit jacket, hanging it on the third man as if he were a coat rack. "But pride is most important. You ran from Toa-kai. You make us chase you here, across ocean." Halting his steps directly in front of Kibum, the man lifted his knife to rest flat against Kibum's cheek, the light from the dim yellow bulbs glinting over the blade. "You make us look weak," the man said, voice still calm and noninflected.

A cold feeling of dread prickled across Donghae's arms, raising goosebumps. He tried to step forward, but the third man had apparently been watching out for Donghae because he moved immediately to block the way.

"Time for a lesson in humility," the Yakuza concluded, reversing the knife in his hand so he held it with the blade pointing outwards.

The man drew his arm back, wide, and just as Donghae pushed forward gasping, "Don't!" the Yakuza punched Kibum squarely across the jaw with his knuckles still gripped tight around the wooden handle.

Time for Donghae slowed down to an excruciating crawl in that moment, watching Kibum's head snap sideways. The sound of Donghae's own heartbeat was deafening in his ears, pounding like a horrible echo to the blows that continued to fall on Kibum, one after another. Donghae wasn't conscious of struggling with the Yakuza who blocked him, yanking Donghae back with a fist in his collar-Donghae only felt himself snap back into real-time when sudden a rush of anger overcame the fear like a tsunami burying a coastline, and that's when Donghae's foot came up and caught the interfering Yakuza henchman in the middle of his rounded gut.

The man grunted loudly and wheeled back, losing his grasp of Donghae's shirt; and Donghae didn't even think, he ducked his head and sprang forward like a charging bull, slamming into closest of the two Yakuza who held Kibum's arms and tackling the man to the ground. And just like that, the beating suddenly became a brawl.

Donghae caught a glimpse of Kibum yanking free of the other man and punching Knife-Guy in the face, before Donghae's left eye exploded in pain and he was struggling with the man he'd tackled, dodging another punch and getting flipped into the dirt a second later, feeling a foot connect with his ribs and that was the third man, recovered from Donghae's own kick and ready to pay it back in spades.

As a grade-schooler Donghae had taken more than a few beatings, and old instincts prompted him to curl up with his arms thrown protectively around his head. As more kicks landed on his torso, the adrenaline pouring into his bloodstream caused each impact to seem dulled, like feeling the world through a buffer. The realization then came upon Donghae that he wasn't a little kid anymore, and that growing up he'd had a best friend who was a black-belt in taekwondo.

Donghae lashed out with his foot and caught the heavier of the Yakuza in the knee, the man yelling and falling back on his ass, and Donghae took the second man's moment of distraction to scramble to his feet and look around wildly for Kibum. The younger boy had somehow backed the Yakuza leader into a corner with the man's own knife-but that was all Donghae had a chance to see before hands shoved him brutally against the nearest wall, the impact forcing the air out from Donghae's lungs with a wrenching gasp, and as he struggled to breathe the other man spun Donghae around and punched him once, twice, before Donghae got an arm up to block, at the same time kneeing the Yakuza in the groin with all his strength. Not exactly a move from taekwondo, but one Sungmin had taught to Donghae anyway.

Clutching the family jewels, the Yakuza groaned and sank to his knees, groaning what Donghae assumed to be insults and curses in Japanese. Ignoring him, Donghae pushed away from the wall-just in time to watch, horrified, as the last of the Yakuza came up behind Kibum, hitting him viciously in the back with a splintered wooden board.

Kibum crumpled, and Donghae somehow managed to cross the room in the blink of an eye, body-slamming against the Yakuza just as he was raising the board for a second blow. The man hit the dirt flat on his back, while Donghae barely managed to catch himself on his hands and knees, feeling the abrasive sting of the gravel on his skin, but he hadn't forgotten about the leader.

Scrambling to Kibum's side, Donghae reached him just as the Yakuza leader stooped down, casually retrieving his knife from where Kibum had dropped it. No space or time for thought-Donghae rolled more or less on top of Kibum's prone body and froze, eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the white-hot sting of a blade to strike between his shoulder blades.

A heartbeat sped past, then four, then five-the blow never came. Tentatively, Donghae opened his eyes, and found the Yakuza leader looking down at the two of them with an interested expression etched onto his features.

The three henchmen had gathered together by that time, bearing down on Donghae with murder in their eyes, but Knife-Guy forestalled them with a simple hand-gesture. He tilted his head to one side, seeming to consider Donghae for a moment longer, and then came to a decision. Donghae only exhaled when he saw the knife being sheathed once more at the man's belt.

Retrieving his suit jacket, the leader dusted it off and donned the garment with unhurried grace. He reached into the jacket's inner pocket, pulling out a slim business card, and dropped this card directly into Donghae's lap.

"If you are ever in Tokyo," the Yakuza said, seeming completely serious, "The Toa-kai will have a place for you."

Donghae blinked, slowly, and nodded without really understanding what was happening.

Satisfied, the leader looked at his men and jerked his head slightly to the door. "We are done here," he said. And without any further words or threats towards Donghae or Kibum, the four Yakuza left the warehouse.

Still bemused by what had just taken place, Donghae picked up the pristine white card and examined it. The card was emblazoned only with a circular black symbol-no address, no contact information. Did he really just... offer me a job in the Japanese mafia? Donghae thought.

A soft groan from the boy underneath him distracted Donghae from the issue, and he slipped the business card into his pocket, forgetting about it as he became preoccupied with helping Kibum to sit up, seeing him wincing and clutching his ribs at the jostling movements.

Kibum was obviously in bad shape, but the first thing he did once he'd achieved vertical status again was frown at Donghae, pain and regret both darkening his face like a cloud. "You shouldn't have come, Donghae," Kibum scolded, his voice hoarse and hitching on every breath.

"Well, that's gratitude for you," Donghae snickered, relieved at seeing Kibum alive, conscious, and in possession of all his internal organs. Also, the adrenaline crash might have been making him more than a little slap-happy, too. "How about, 'Thanks for saving my life, Donghae, I owe you everything and pledge my body and soul eternally to your service'?"

Kibum chuckled, then groaned, curling in on himself a little more. "Oh god, don't make me laugh, please."

Starting to feel his own aches developing, Donghae and Kibum carefully worked to get the other boy on his feet, with one arm slung around Donghae's shoulders for support. Kibum's face was a complete mess of blood, dirt, and sweat by the time they'd accomplished this small feat, his breathing coming in shallow pants, and Donghae's sense of amusement was vanishing as fast as mist under a hot sun.

"No hospitals," Kibum said, just as Donghae was opening his mouth to insist on medical attention.

"But-"

Shaking his head, Kibum leaned a bit more of his weight against Donghae, taking a step forward, and Donghae had to put an arm tight around Kibum's waist for balance before they both went toppling over. "It's not so bad. Honestly, I've had worse." At Donghae's skeptic frown, Kibum cajoled, "Let's just out of here, alright? I'll walk it off as we go."

Not really in a position himself to force the issue, Donghae agreed reluctantly, and they made their way out of the warehouse, picking through the litter and debris of the waterfront district and heading north. Mostly they stuck to side streets, avoiding crowds and people wherever possible. With the darkness and the way they shambled ungracefully along, they were most likely mistaken for drunk homeless men, if they were even noticed at all.

"So," Kibum's voice, exhausted and tight, startled Donghae from his intense concentration on keeping both of them from pitching face-first into the gutter. "You're not going to ask me what all that was about, back there?"

Donghae considered a moment, then smiled, albeit with a half-hearted effort. "You're not going to voluntarily tell me?"

The other boy was quiet for long enough that Donghae was just about to take that as a 'no', but when Kibum finally spoke, it was in that same distant tone he'd used before, the few times he'd ever mentioned anything from his past. "My mother," he said, hesitating. "She was... when we left the palace, five years ago, she went through her savings pretty quickly. She just couldn't let go of the lifestyle, I suppose."

Suddenly the younger boy seemed to grow heavier, slumping against Donghae's side as if every regret were pressing down on him like a tangible force. "It was my fault," Kibum muttered, "I never asked where her money came from. It wasn't until the third or fourth time we moved between countries that it sunk in that we were running away."

He gave a short, humorless laugh. "This is the only legacy she left me. And now there's bastards like the Toa-kai waiting to prey on me, everywhere I go. Damn, I thought I'd gotten so good at dodging them," he exhaled, then lifted his free hand to prod gingerly at the cut above his eyebrow, which had finally stopped bleeding. "I guess I thought wrong," he said, rueful.

Absorbing this information, Donghae took a moment to look around their surroundings, immensely relieved when he finally recognized a few landmarks and realized they weren't too far from his old apartment. He readjusted Kibum's arm more comfortably around his shoulders, then guided their steps down the street that would get them there the fastest, hugging close to the sides of buildings and avoiding the pools of light from streetlamps.

"So how did those guys find you? Was it when we were in Jeju?" Donghae asked.

"Nearly. They caught up to me right after. I had screwed up, when I used my real name to get my bike." Kibum growled, "Which they also took, the fucking vultures."

Donghae patted the other boy's hip sympathetically, knowing how much Kibum had liked his motorcycle. Then street they were on began sloping steeply uphill, and it took both of them working together to haul their battered bodies to the top of it. But once there, the apartment complex was only another couple blocks away.

Thankfully, Donghae was still in the habit of carrying his keys with him everywhere, even though he'd become like the prince and had virtually no use for them anymore. He still had the key to the apartment because Sungmin and Hyukjae had insisted he keep it, 'just in case'. The two of them were still happily vacationing in Jeju, of course, so Donghae more or less propped Kibum up against the wall while he fumbled the keys out of his pocket and opened the door, hands automatically finding the light switch in the dark. Suddenly he felt strange and intrusive, standing in the living room of the apartment he'd shared with his friends since their first day of college.

Shaking off the feeling, Donghae hauled Kibum inside and directed him to the bathroom to wash off the worst of the blood and dirt, while Donghae scrounged around for whatever first-aid supplies he could find. This pretty much amounted to an old box of Hyukjae's Dragonball Z band-aids along with half a tube of antibiotic ointment, but Donghae figured better that than nothing.

When Kibum was done, Donghae helped him peel off his torn and filthy jacket, then directed him to lay down in Donghae's old bedroom. Prodding at Kibum's ribcage once he'd settled back, Donghae frowned at small pained noises Kibum couldn't quite stifle. "Do you think they're broken?" Donghae asked, worried. "Or maybe just bruised?"

"I don't care if they're shattered," Kibum groaned, pushing Donghae's fingers away. "I'm not moving from this exact spot, even if the roof caves in around me."

Donghae gingerly sat down on the edge of the blankets, teeth gnawing at his lower lip, trying to convince himself that the younger boy wouldn't just run away again if Donghae called a doctor to the apartment. "Kibum..."

"Hey. Don't worry, alright? This isn't my first time catching a beating from some loan-sharks."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Oh. Maybe not." Kibum smiled, lips pressed together in a thin line. "Really, though, I just need to sleep," he yawned, and Donghae could plainly see the exhaustion creasing the corners of his eyes and mouth, aging him far beyond his nineteen years. "I think I haven't slept in a bed for three days." Kibum turned his face into the pillow, beginning to drift off.

Donghae looked down at the box of band-aids and the ointment he held, hands loose in his lap. He hadn't forgotten the secret Kibum had revealed to him, that night in Jeju on the beach.

"If I were still Crown Prince, the contract made between our grandfathers would have been with me. And you."

Donghae pushed his thumb against the silver ring on his hand, the metal catching the light as it rotated slowly around his finger; and he thought, again, about how much his life had changed since the day Siwon had taken that ring from Donghae's right hand and put it onto his left. It was funny, but Donghae's grandfather had always raised him to believe that destiny was something that happened once you took it upon yourself to make your own.

Donghae looked back at Kibum. The other boy's face looked drawn and tight, troubled even in sleep, and Donghae couldn't help but wonder if maybe god wasn't just messing around with all of them; everyone's lives like paper game pieces, scattered randomly with the slightest breath.

His head was starting to ache (from being punched rather than too much thinking-at least that's what Donghae hoped) so he pushed the confusion away, out of his mind. He leaned over the younger boy, carefully applying the band-aids to the worst of Kibum's cuts and scrapes.

He'd just finished putting a band-aid on Kibum's forearm when the other boy moved, his hand reaching out and gently circling Donghae's wrist. Donghae looked up, startled. Kibum was still awake, and watching Donghae through half-lidded eyes.

"You shouldn't have come, Donghae," Kibum said, quietly. "What if one of them had recognized who you are? Those guys, they would have happily skinned you alive, to get a ransom out of Siwon. They wouldn't have even blinked."

"I... um. I took that into consideration," Donghae lied, then shrugged. "Besides, what are friends for?" He twisted his wrist from the other boy's grip, and took Kibum's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. "You would have done the same thing for me, I know."

Kibum's expression clenched. He looked agonized. Donghae tried to stand, concerned for him. "Do your ribs hurt? I could go get-"

Kibum didn't release Donghae's hand. "I'm fine. Just-just stay? For a bit longer. Please," he added, almost whispering.

Donghae nodded. "Okay," he agreed, equally hushed.

Eventually Kibum closed his eyes again, his breathing evening out, slowing down. But his fingers remained tight around Donghae's until long after he'd fallen asleep.

*

Stepping out onto the street outside the apartment building, Donghae took in a lungful of the humid summer air and then let it out, slowly. He had the brim of his baseball cap pulled low over his face, and the hood of his jacket up, but his shoulders still hunched in slightly when he couldn't help but remember the last time he'd been on this street. The memories had gone vague, blurred by the hangover and the chaotic noise and things happening too quickly, so Donghae really only had two clear images of that day: a river of tears on a young girl's face; and broad line of Siwon's back, with Donghae hanging on to the prince as if letting go meant the end of the world.

It was hard to imagine that being only three weeks ago-it felt like years had past; or maybe like it had happened to someone else, a different person, and Donghae had only heard the story of it. He walked to the edge of the curb, standing in a circle of orange-yellow light from a street lamp. Just about every part of his body had started to ache in earnest by then, and Donghae leaned up against the lamppost, bracing his weight as he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and thumbed the power key on.

The screen flashed, showing eleven missed calls. Donghae's stomach squeezed itself into a cold knot, dreading. His finger hovered over the 'Return call' button next to Siwon's number-but Donghae was too much of a coward. He couldn't face Siwon, not just yet. But he also couldn't stay standing out here all night, either.

It was nearly midnight, but Yesung answered Donghae's call after the second ring. "Master Donghae?"

"Hi, um," Donghae stared at his feet, kicking a small pebble across the pavement. He exhaled shakily, wondering why his eyes suddenly felt hot and wet. He scrubbed at them with the sleeve of his jacket, embarrassed. "Sorry it's late. It's just... if it's okay, I could-I could really use a ride." Donghae looked up to the black empty sky, staring past the halo of lamplight and blinking till his eyes felt dry again. From the palace, he knew, the sky showed a lot more stars.

"I need to get home," he explained.

~*~

When the light finally came on in the room across the courtyard, the prince exhaled properly for what felt like the first time all night. He stood up from his desk, pulling off his glasses and rubbing the tired ache from his eyes. He took in another deep breath, giving himself a moment for the white-hot fury that had been dampened by concern to roll like a sudden flash-fire through his blood. He shouldn't go over there, not when he was this angry. He needed to calm down, first. He needed to-

Siwon realized he was gripping hard enough on the edge of the desk to whiten his knuckles. He cursed under his breath and let go. Unanchored, he began to move, crossing the courtyard and shoving open the door to Donghae's room without knocking.

The other boy had his back to Siwon, frozen in the act of shrugging off his jacket.

"At least you came back on your own this time," Siwon ground out. "I didn't have to go pull you from the midst of a media nightmare."

Donghae's shoulders hunched forward, just slightly. Seeing that caused guilt to scrape against Siwon's anger like the dull edge of a razor. But somewhere in the middle of the night-maybe it had been the fourth hour without word, or the fifth-the prince's normally iron-clad control had slipped its leash, leaving him to free-fall helplessly through every emotion, no way of stopping.

"But you got lucky. That's what I can't understand. This time you knew, you knew what the consequences could be. You left anyway." Siwon wanted to grab Donghae by the arms-to shake him till reason saw the light of day in that thick skull of his-and only restrained himself by curling his hands into fists at the small of his back.

Still uncharacteristically quiet, Donghae finished taking off his jacket, tossing it to the floor. Siwon didn't understand why he wasn't arguing back, or stammering out a stupid excuse-like he had a sudden urge to go eat ice cream, and he dropped his phone in the Hangang river, and then aliens came and-

Donghae turned around, facing him at last, and Siwon went utterly still.

When he could move again, he crossed to Donghae in three steps. Siwon took the other boy's chin in his fingers and tilted it carefully to the light, examining the bruises blossoming on his face. "Who hurt you?" Siwon asked, low. The rush of heat had left his blood; now anger flowed like streams of ice in his veins, leaving Siwon cold, on the verge of shaking.

Donghae put on a smile that Siwon could have seen as fake from miles back. "It's not as bad as it looks, really. I should have called, should have told someone-I just went over to the apartment to get something I'd left, and a couple kids jumped me for my wallet. I feel stupid more than anything else."

Siwon's chest felt tight, lungs constricted from too little air. He grazed his thumb over a cut at the corner of Donghae's mouth and the other boy winced, hissing softly from the sting of it. "You," Siwon murmured, "Are an atrocious liar."

Donghae's eyes flashed with dismay at being caught, and he hung his head. "It's just-I can't. I can't tell you what happened, Siwon, I'm sorry," he said, sounding truly regretful.

Staring at the other boy for a long minute-mostly because, for a rarity, Siwon was at a loss for words-the prince finally shook his head, and sighed. "Come here," he said, and took Donghae by the wrist, tugging him out into the courtyard and then forcing him to sit on the edge of the fountain with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Obviously bewildered, Donghae looked up at Siwon to see what he was going to do. The confused expression slid into outright shock when Siwon took out a handkerchief, dampened it under the spray, and then used it to dab at the small cuts and streaks of dried blood on Donghae's face.

To his credit, Donghae didn't flinch away from Siwon's ministrations, only passively accepted them-but he did give the fountain water a dubious look. "Is this sanitary?"

In spite of himself, Siwon had to smile. "You'll live," he said brusquely, and scrubbed none-too-gently at a smudge of dirt on Donghae's cheek.

Silence fell between them for a few minutes, the crystalline sound of the fountain providing a counterpoint to the static-electric hum of the cicadas out in the trees. Siwon finished cleaning Donghae's face, but continued to stand over the other boy, gazing down at the top of his head. Donghae's hair was even more of a mess than usual, dozens of tangled strands had fallen loose from his short ponytail, and his shirt also showed signs of ground-in dirt and blood. Judging by the state he was in, Donghae could have been mixed up in anything from an idol band's fanmeeting to a small, contained hurricane.

Not knowing what happened, Siwon thought, was probably going to make him a little bit insane.

"So," Siwon said, slowly, putting the handkerchief aside. "You don't trust me."

To Siwon's surprise, Donghae made a sound of protest and reached out, fingers curling around Siwon's wrist, meeting his eyes squarely for the first time all night. "I trust you," Donghae said, no hint of doubt in his voice.

His fingers lay directly against Siwon's pulse-point, and the prince wondered in the corner of his mind if Donghae could feel it: the sudden irregularity of his heartbeat; the strange way it had wavered from the intensity of Donghae's conviction, from the shining-bright look on his face-as if Siwon were the sum total of everything Donghae believed in.

No, he can't- the prince told himself. It's dark, and I'm imagining things. He pulled free from the other boy's grip, turning away with a shiver that ran right down to his bones. He didn't like feeling this way-it was too much, too many emotions, all of them nosily overlapping each other like the tuning of an orchestra. He didn't like it, and yet he didn't want it to go away, either. God, something was wrong with him.

"If that were the case, you'd tell me the truth," Siwon pointed out, praying his voice didn't sound as vulnerable as he felt.

"I do, I trust you," Donghae repeated, anxiously. "But it's not my place to tell. I would if I could... but it's not my secret."

"A secret that you're involved in. And you've already landed in trouble from it-just look at yourself."

"No, it's okay, really. I handled things on my own, and now it's all taken care of."

The prince turned back to Donghae, disbelief causing his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "You handled it, I see," Siwon said, snorting. "If this is result when you handle things, then God save us from a situation that you've lost your grip on."

Donghae frowned, but didn't look down, his bruised face tilted up to the moonlight and Siwon could see the determined set of his jaw. So that's how it's going to be, is it? Torn between disappointment and anger, Siwon yielded gratefully to the latter. Then, I'll show him exactly how I plan to handle things from now on.

Pushing his doubts aside, till they were nothing more than a mosquito's hum in the back of his mind, Siwon crossed his arms over his chest, conveying the fact that he'd made his decision and wasn't going to be swayed.

"Starting tomorrow morning," the prince declared. "You're getting your own personal security detail." He paused, and let the other shoe drop. "Around-the-clock security, Donghae."

"What? But that's... you mean like, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week bodyguards?" The other boy's mouth had gaped open; in any other situation Siwon might have found Donghae's utterly aghast reaction to be amusing. "Siwon, you don't even have around-the-clock security. This is-I don't-it's so unfair!" he sputtered.

"I don't require that level of security, that's the difference between us." Siwon quirked a brow. "In your case, they'll be more like babysitters than bodyguards."

For one of the few times since they'd met, Donghae's eyes flashed with genuine ire. "So now you're the one who doesn't trust me, is that how it is?"

"You make it difficult, admittedly."

"Then why don't you just slap a collar and leash on me while you're at it!" Donghae snarled.

Feeling a strange, dark smile twist the corners of his lips, Siwon leaned over the other boy-close enough for the breath of his words to stir the tangled fringe of hair that had drooped over Donghae's right eye during his tirade. "Don't tempt me," Siwon murmured, and reached out to brush the lock of hair back.

With that one small gesture, Donghae's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and he looked for all the world like a startled deer staring up at a hungry lion. And just like that, Siwon's anger dissipated out of his system, replaced by a warm amusement that effervesced under his skin like the touch of summer rain.

Not for the first time, Siwon mused as to why was it, exactly, that conversations with this person never went the way the prince thought they should.

"If you stay on your best behavior, of course we can reopen the security topic for discussion later on," Siwon sighed, conceding somewhat. Donghae only continued to stare, bizarrely mute for once. The prince didn't believe himself to be overreacting-all things considered, in fact, he was probably under reacting. Still, he felt a flash of worry that perhaps he'd pushed it a bit far-at least for tonight, as Donghae had obviously just been through an ordeal.

"It's late, you need to rest," the prince said, pulling Donghae to his feet. And before Siwon could stop and carefully consider his next actions, he used a hand on the other boy's elbow to tug him along, until they were both standing at the foot of Siwon's bed at the far corner of his room.

"Um," Donghae said, glancing nervously between Siwon and the bed.

"Your new security team arrives in the morning, as I said. They're taking a red-eye from Prague specially at my request."

"Who...?" Donghae began, then trailed off as comprehension of Siwon's intentions dawned in his expression, transforming it almost immediately into a furious blush. He jerked his arm from Siwon's grip. "I'm not likely to go running off twice in the same night," Donghae muttered, still blushing. He gestured at the bed with a vague flapping motion of his hand. "This. You don't have to. That is, I don't want... um."

"Until we have someone else who can supervise you, for tonight-" Siwon pushed the other boy till the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he was forced to sit heavily, once again staring up at Siwon with surprise, "-You'll stay exactly where I can see you."

"But. I really won't-" Under Siwon's unblinking sardonic gaze, Donghae's protests seemed to wither on his tongue. "Fine," the other boy said, rubbing the back of his neck, awkward. "I guess one night won't kill me," he added, more to himself.

Refusing to feel offended-because this was merely for the sake of teaching Donghae a lesson, and nothing else-Siwon still ended up tossing a bundle of pajamas onto the bedspread with more force than was strictly necessary. "Get some sleep," he said curtly, then turned to go back to his desk.

"You aren't-I mean, you're not going to...?"

Siwon paused next to the sumi-e painted screens that served as an aesthetic partition to the room, dividing Siwon's living space from his work space. Half-turning, he saw Donghae still sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling the pajamas to his chest and looking lost. His hair had fallen into his face again, and Siwon resisted the bizarre urge to tuck it back in place once more.

"I still have some work that requires my attention." Due to the fact that I spent half the night trying to find you, Siwon thought, but didn't voice aloud.

"Oh," Donghae made as if to rise, "Maybe I could try and help?"

Siwon frowned. "Rest," he chided, but gently. "You're lucky I'm not making you go to the Emergency Room."

Donghae laughed a little at that, and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mother," he said, and obediently began sifting through the pajamas.

When Siwon sat down at his desk for the second time that night, it was with a renewed energy; he felt physically lighter, as if a mountain of weight had shifted, just slightly, from his shoulders.

*

By the time the prince finally fell into bed two hours later, however, all that energy had abandoned him. He switched off the lights and only then remembered that he was still wearing his shirt and slacks. He knew he should get up and change out of his clothes, but was too exhausted to make himself move.

And when the heavy weight of another person shifted under the bedcovers, and rolled up against the length of Siwon's body, he realized too late that he'd forgotten about one other important detail.

Frozen in place, Siwon barely breathed as Donghae tucked himself into the small of Siwon's back, face pressed to the curve of his spine and one arm flung across Siwon's waist. Before Siwon could cease panicking and make a decision about what he wanted to do about this-move away? stay? turn over?-he heard it: the other boy was snoring, softly and contentedly. He'd never even woken up.

Little by little, Siwon relaxed. Exhaustion overcame the thudding of his heart, slowing it down to a normal rate. Just like a lizard, Siwon decided with his last coherent thought, and closed his eyes because they were too heavy to keep open any longer. Moving away was too much effort to conceive of, so by default, Siwon stayed where he was, with Donghae wrapped around him. Seeking out the nearest heat source... typical.

With a smile curling his mouth against the cotton fabric of his pillowcase, the prince fell asleep.

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© 2009

a/n: thanks to cynicalxcharm for helping me beta this chapter!

6/01/2010 - this chapter is the edited and reposted version of the original.

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.