Super Junior - a trashy romance novel!
Title: Chasing Freedom, Chapter 1, Siwon/Eunhyuk, Yesung/Eunhyuk, Kibum/Donghae, Kyuhyun/Sungmin
Length: 2,592 words
Author: shieldkitten
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Hyukjae is a social misfit in the affluent circles of Boston, searching for a place he belongs. Will he find it aboard the Sapphire Pearl, in the arms of a certain embittered sea captain?
Author's Note: For aconite , this is a throwback to those terrible Harlequins. The storyline is based loosely on The Charm School, by Susan Wiggs, but with so much more crack.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
“Come play,” Junsu had said, eyes twinkling with invitation, and Lee Hyukjae had hesitated for only a moment, glancing back over his shoulder at the guests streaming into the house and out through patio doors to gather in the front lawn. Being the least popular of the Lee sons had its advantages, he supposed, especially at times like these, when no one would notice if he slipped out of the back door arm in arm with the housekeeper’s son.
Fifteen minutes later, his second best coat lay in a dusty heap on the ground, and Hyukjae had his sleeves folded to his elbows, collar unbuttoned. They kicked a ball between them, passing it back and forth, laughing with and at each other in the afternoon sun. Hyukjae enjoyed stolen moments like these so much more than hours in crowded ballrooms, weaving his way through clusters of conversation, trying to find a familiar face. It had something to do, Hyukjae supposed, with being the middle son. Sungmin had all the responsibilities, and therefore all the training appropriate for the heir to the Lee fortune. Hyukjae had never seen his older brother lost for words, or fail at anything he tried his hand at. His talents, combined with his beautiful, cherubic face, made him the most sought-after man in the circles of their friends here in Boston.
Donghae, Hyukjae’s younger brother, was similarly endowed with good looks and an endearing personality. He was ever surrounded by a gaggle of friends, and never seemed to have any trouble keeping them in fits of laughter. Even Boston’s most reserved bachelor, Kim Kibum, proved no match for Donghae’s easy humour and charming naiveté, and talk was that Kibum would announce his intentions as soon as Sungmin announced his engagement to his beau, Cho Kyuhyun of the Cho merchant family, renowned for the trading vessels they kept plying between Massachusetts and the Portugese colony of Brazil. It would not do, after all, for the youngest son to be so attached before the eldest was spoken for. That Hyukjae, a year older than Donghae, was still very much a bachelor himself seemed to account for little - it was unlikely that a social pariah such as he would ever land himself a suitor, and it would have been considered cruel to force Donghae to wait indefinitely.
“Good lord, Hyukjae, what on earth are you doing?” Hyukjae froze at the sound of Eeteuk’s voice, and the moment of paralysis cost him. Junsu’s ill-timed kick sent the ball soaring past Hyukjae and through the kitchen window.
The resulting crash brought Donghae and two of his friends to the back door, and Eeteuk sighed heavily, picking Hyukjae’s coat off of the ground and dusting it off with angry pats.
“Fooling around with the servants again, Hyukjae?” Heechul asked, leaning insolently against the door frame. Ryeowook tittered loudly behind him, but Donghae simply stood between them, slack-jawed, as Eeteuk helped Hyukjae to straighten his clothes.
“It was my fault,” Junsu told Eeteuk, standing awkwardly to a side, shoulders rigid now that he was in the company of his supposed betters. “I asked Hyuk to-”
“You will address him as your master,” Eeteuk said archly, and Junsu’s mouth snapped shut, lips pale. Hyukjae gave Junsu an apologetic look, wishing he could do more, stand up for him, but Eeteuk was his father’s private secretary, and held much more clout than Lee Sooman’s misfit of a second son.
“Well, let’s get back to the party. Stop gawking, are you men or gossiping old biddies?” Eeteuk asked, clapping his hands sharply when Donghae and his friends didn’t immediately turn and re-enter the house. Hyukjae took the chance to turn to Junsu.
“Listen, I’m sorry, I’ll look for you after-”
“Hyukjae!” Eeteuk snapped.
“After,” Hyukjae whispered. Junsu nodded dumbly, and Hyukjae ducked back into the house, tugging on his coat, grimacing at the way his shirt stuck to his back, damp with sweat. Maids were sweeping up the broken glass, and Hyukjae sighed, noting the ball against the wall, out of its element in a room of ceramic tiles and gourmet ingredients.
“What were you playing, Hyuk?” Donghae asked, lingering back behind his friends to link arms with Hyukjae.
“It’s called soccer.”
Donghae paused, looking troubled. “You should teach it to me. You wouldn’t get in so much trouble if we played it together.”
Hyukjae felt a rush of affection for his brother, but he shook his head. “I don’t think it’s the company so much as the game, Hae. Respectable young men play croquet and tennis, they don’t run around in the dirt after a ball.”
“Then you should play croquet with us,” Donghae said decisively. Heechul, who had clearly been eavesdropping, snorted derisively.
“Hyukjae? With a mallet? With his hand-eye coordination, we’d have less injuries playing with an ape.”
“Your sarcasm is as indelicate as ever, Heechul.” With a sigh of relief, Hyukjae turned to see Sungmin, hand on Kyuhyun’s arm. Kyuhyun was the only man capable of matching wits with Heechul. Well, rumour had it that Kibum had a quick wit as well, but the man was so withdrawn that it was difficult to confirm.
“Any delicacy in my sarcasm would pale in comparison to that of your health,” Heechul said, and Hyukjae widened his eyes at the obvious slight to Kyuhyun’s fitness. Kyuhyun had been afflicted with the whooping cough the previous winter, and Sungmin still spoke anxiously of moments when Kyuhyun found himself faint, short for breath.
“As entertaining as it is to watch the two of you cross swords, I actually need to speak to my brothers,” Sungmin said, stepping between the two men. “Hyukjae, Donghae? My study?”
“Sungmin, sir, your father expects you to give the toast at the party,” Eeteuk said. Sungmin smiled his winning smile and nodded.
“We won’t be long, I promise.”
Sungmin’s study was a stark contrast to the mellow, cheerful hues of their old playroom. A stern, decidedly unfriendly oak desk was the centrepiece of the room, the effect bolstered by dark chestnut panelling. Sungmin did not take his seat behind the desk, choosing to steer his brothers to the settee by the window instead, and he tugged one of the ornamented Bergere chairs around with some effort before settling on the edge of it. Hyukjae eased himself down onto the leather settee, grimacing when the leather squeaked inelegantly under his weight.
“Oh, Hyukjae,” Sungmin sighed, even as Donghae stifled a laugh behind his hand. “What will you do when we aren’t around to save you from yourself?”
“Die lonely, I expect,” Hyukjae said forlornly. “What’s your news? Has Kyuhyun proposed, then?”
Sungmin grinned, cheeks flushing pink. “Yes, in fact.”
“Sungmin!” Donghae cried happily, reaching out his hands. “Congratulations!”
“Congratulations, Min,” Hyukjae said, genuinely glad for his older brother. Kyuhyun was a good man, and Sungmin’s love for him was undeniable.
“Oh!” Donghae sat up. And then he sank back into his seat, the picture of disappointment. “Kibum didn’t come to the party today.”
“Didn’t he? I could’ve sworn I spotted him behind the palms, glowering at the world for daring to exist,” Sungmin teased.
“Are you announcing your engagement today?” Hyukjae asked, as Donghae climbed onto the couch, peering out of the window as if he hoped to spot Kibum loitering among the trees.
“At the toast. Father approves, of course. The joining of two of Boston’s most influential families, the beginning of an empire, something or other…” Sungmin rolled his eyes, but he was beaming so widely his teeth were gleaming in the sunlight.
“Well, as long as it’s you running the world, I suppose it will be all right,” Hyukjae said, giving Sungmin a lop-sided grin.
“I see him!” Donghae exclaimed, jabbing an excited finger at the pane of glass between him and the front lawn below. “Oh no, Heechul’s cornered him.”
“There’ll be bloodshed,” Hyukjae feigned horror. “Tears.”
“We better get down there, then,” Sungmin said, laughing. “It’s about time for the toast, at any rate. To our father’s generous donation to Harvard, to our mother’s health, and to me, for landing my man.”
“If you say those exact words,” Donghae said, lips pulled back in mirth, “I’ll give you half my inheritance.”
Hyukjae always felt the contrast between them was most striking when the three brothers stood in a row as they did now, standing beside their parents, glasses raised as Sungmin led the toast. Sungmin and Donghae were tanned where Hyukjae’s skin remained lily-white, no matter how many hours he spent lolling in the sun. Their smiles too, were so different - Sungmin’s bright and infectious, Donghae’s brilliant and genuine, Hyukjae’s pained and awkward as he tried to keep his upper lip from sliding past his gums - a habit, Heechul had assured him, that distressed woodland creatures and made small children bawl.
He took an instinctive step backwards when guests came forward to congratulate Sungmin and Kyuhyun, and watched as Donghae slipped down to the grass, making a beeline for the trees. No one came to speak to him, and Hyukjae glanced around for Eeteuk. Satisfying himself that Eeteuk was too busy whispering names into his father’s ear to notice his absence, Hyukjae darted around the side of the house, loosening his collar as did so. His duty was done for the day, he could duck into the comfort of Junsu’s much less ostentatious home and spend the day not being Lee Hyukjae.
“Sneaking off?” Hyukjae skidded to a halt, feeling his cheeks grow hot as he stared up at the bewitching smile of one Kim Jongwoon. Jongwoon had silky, dark hair, gorgeous, piercing eyes and a deep, melodic voice. He was stylish in a manner that suggested affluence without being overtly grandiose, and he could have his pick of any of the available young men in town (and quite a few of the unavailable as well), but for no reason that Hyukjae could fathom, he persistently appeared before Hyukjae at the most sudden and unexpected moments. Their meetings were always short - Hyukjae always found some way to escape before Jongwoon became too forward with his advances - but they always left him feeling flustered and off-balance.
“I was just-” he began, but stopped and instinctively took a step backwards as Jongwoon took one forward.
“Just?” Jongwoon urged him softly, chuckling under his breath as Hyukjae began to stammer.
“Just… Wine! I was just going to get more wine from the cellar.” Ducking his head, Hyukjae tried to ease around Jongwoon, slim form sliding sideways against the wall of the house only to be halted by a strong arm. Hyukjae stared helplessly at the offending limb even as Jongwoon closed the distance between them.
“I should come with you,” he said in a voice that sent shivers down Hyukjae’s spine. “Wouldn’t want you getting lost in the dark.”
“T-that-” Hyukjae clamped his teeth on his tongue, shame burning in a lump in his throat. He hadn’t stuttered for years, not since his parents had hired a governess for the sole purpose of helping him master his speech impediment, and yet here he was, cornered by Jongwoon, of all the men in the world, who ran with Heechul’s ilk, and he was stuttering.
“Ahem.”
Jongwoon’s shirt rustled as he stepped back, arms falling to his side. Hyukjae turned slowly, back pressed against the wall in an effort to keep as much distance between him and Jongwoon as he could, and fairly sagged with relief to see that it was Eeteuk who had discovered them.
“Master Jongwoon, the majority of the guests are gathered before the patio. Perhaps you would like to join them.” Eeteuk spoke in a manner that brooked no debate, and Hyukjae could see the line of Jongwoon’s shoulders go rigid even as he inclined his head with an easy grace. The private smile Jongwoon gave him made his stomach twist in knots, and Hyukjae cast his gaze down to the dewy grass until the shade of Jongwoon’s shadow disappeared around the side of the house.
“Th-thanks, Eet-teuk.” Hyukjae clapped his hand over his mouth, horrified. It had taken years to cure him of this unfortunate ailment, and one moment with Jongwoon had made him come undone.
Eeteuk pressed his lips into a thin line, frowning, and Hyukjae could almost hear the cogs in his mind turning. He drew a breath and held it, eyes fixed once again on the grass, tracing patterns in the blades until Eeteuk spoke again.
“Your parents have invited your brother’s fiancé to dine this evening. You’ll be expected to attend.”
Hyukjae nodded dumbly, wondering how he would be able to tame his traitorous tongue before dinner. Kyuhyun had always been amiable, perhaps even sympathetic, whether because he was a generous man or because Sungmin had twisted his arm into playing nice, but Hyukjae didn’t think he could bear the humiliation of stuttering before him.
“You should leave the housekeeper’s cottage by four if you are to be washed and ready by dinner.”
Eeteuk had already turned to return to the front of the house, so he missed the look of immense gratitude Hyukjae gave his retreating back.
“I-I’m really s-sorry,” he told Junsu the moment he passed through the doors of the housekeeper’s modest home. “Ab-bout earli-er.”
“Are you stuttering again?” Junsu asked, eyebrows raised.
“N-no.”
“Oh.” Junsu pursed his lips. “Then shut up and help me eat all of this before Yoochun gets back,” he said, pointing to a large tray of left over hors d'oeurves.
“D-doesn’t he like th-these?” Hyukjae asked, pushing a brie tart into his mouth. He was starving, having been unable to eat much at the party what with Eeteuk hovering over him, making disapproving little clicks of the tongue every time Hyukjae so much as turned in the direction of the buffet table.
“Exactly,” Junsu said, lips curving mischievously, and Hyukjae laughed, spraying crumbs over the table.
By the time the tray was mostly empty, and Junsu was groaning with the burden of too many little pastries, Hyukjae had lost most of his stutter. He trailed his finger along the cool metal surface of the tray, sweeping the crumbs into a heap.
“So what caused the stuttering?” Junsu asked, watching Hyukjae’s fingers through half-lidded eyes, yawning a little mid-speech.
“Kim Jongwoon.”
“Hmm.”
There were realms of meaning hidden in that ‘hmm’. Hyukjae arched an eyebrow, waiting for Junsu to expand on them.
“We talk, among the servants-”
“You’re not a s-servant.”
“Yes, I am, shut up and listen. Jongwoon’s valet, Kangin, he said that Jongwoon’s family’s been having some money trouble lately.”
“Did he tell you this in confidence?”
“I said shut up, god, get conned out of your inheritance for all I care.” Junsu threw the crust of a half eaten tart at Hyukjae, landing it square between his eyes. “Listen, Jongwoon’s the kind of guy who’ll stop at nothing to make sure he keeps the kind of comfortable lifestyle he’s used to. You’re an easy target, I mean, everyone thinks you’re so desperate to be married you’ll fall on the first man to give you any attention.”
“Hey!” Hyukjae sat up, agitated, brushing crumbs off his face. “That’s hardly the case. Do you even bother d-defending me when you hear such dribble?”
“No, you’re so hideous you should fall on the first man to give you any attention. As long as it isn’t Kim Jongwoon.”
“I’m so touched that you c-care,” Hyukjae said sarcastically, but the bite of his sarcasm was rather ruined by the stutter.
In the next chapter, we are introduced to Siwon! What lies in the past of this embittered sea captain (lmao I love that description) and his loyal friend, Hangeng? What were their motives for coming to Boston? What secret lies in the hull of the Sapphire Pearl? ALL THIS AND MORE. *dies from the crack*
Length: 2,592 words
Author: shieldkitten
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Hyukjae is a social misfit in the affluent circles of Boston, searching for a place he belongs. Will he find it aboard the Sapphire Pearl, in the arms of a certain embittered sea captain?
Author's Note: For aconite , this is a throwback to those terrible Harlequins. The storyline is based loosely on The Charm School, by Susan Wiggs, but with so much more crack.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
“Come play,” Junsu had said, eyes twinkling with invitation, and Lee Hyukjae had hesitated for only a moment, glancing back over his shoulder at the guests streaming into the house and out through patio doors to gather in the front lawn. Being the least popular of the Lee sons had its advantages, he supposed, especially at times like these, when no one would notice if he slipped out of the back door arm in arm with the housekeeper’s son.
Fifteen minutes later, his second best coat lay in a dusty heap on the ground, and Hyukjae had his sleeves folded to his elbows, collar unbuttoned. They kicked a ball between them, passing it back and forth, laughing with and at each other in the afternoon sun. Hyukjae enjoyed stolen moments like these so much more than hours in crowded ballrooms, weaving his way through clusters of conversation, trying to find a familiar face. It had something to do, Hyukjae supposed, with being the middle son. Sungmin had all the responsibilities, and therefore all the training appropriate for the heir to the Lee fortune. Hyukjae had never seen his older brother lost for words, or fail at anything he tried his hand at. His talents, combined with his beautiful, cherubic face, made him the most sought-after man in the circles of their friends here in Boston.
Donghae, Hyukjae’s younger brother, was similarly endowed with good looks and an endearing personality. He was ever surrounded by a gaggle of friends, and never seemed to have any trouble keeping them in fits of laughter. Even Boston’s most reserved bachelor, Kim Kibum, proved no match for Donghae’s easy humour and charming naiveté, and talk was that Kibum would announce his intentions as soon as Sungmin announced his engagement to his beau, Cho Kyuhyun of the Cho merchant family, renowned for the trading vessels they kept plying between Massachusetts and the Portugese colony of Brazil. It would not do, after all, for the youngest son to be so attached before the eldest was spoken for. That Hyukjae, a year older than Donghae, was still very much a bachelor himself seemed to account for little - it was unlikely that a social pariah such as he would ever land himself a suitor, and it would have been considered cruel to force Donghae to wait indefinitely.
“Good lord, Hyukjae, what on earth are you doing?” Hyukjae froze at the sound of Eeteuk’s voice, and the moment of paralysis cost him. Junsu’s ill-timed kick sent the ball soaring past Hyukjae and through the kitchen window.
The resulting crash brought Donghae and two of his friends to the back door, and Eeteuk sighed heavily, picking Hyukjae’s coat off of the ground and dusting it off with angry pats.
“Fooling around with the servants again, Hyukjae?” Heechul asked, leaning insolently against the door frame. Ryeowook tittered loudly behind him, but Donghae simply stood between them, slack-jawed, as Eeteuk helped Hyukjae to straighten his clothes.
“It was my fault,” Junsu told Eeteuk, standing awkwardly to a side, shoulders rigid now that he was in the company of his supposed betters. “I asked Hyuk to-”
“You will address him as your master,” Eeteuk said archly, and Junsu’s mouth snapped shut, lips pale. Hyukjae gave Junsu an apologetic look, wishing he could do more, stand up for him, but Eeteuk was his father’s private secretary, and held much more clout than Lee Sooman’s misfit of a second son.
“Well, let’s get back to the party. Stop gawking, are you men or gossiping old biddies?” Eeteuk asked, clapping his hands sharply when Donghae and his friends didn’t immediately turn and re-enter the house. Hyukjae took the chance to turn to Junsu.
“Listen, I’m sorry, I’ll look for you after-”
“Hyukjae!” Eeteuk snapped.
“After,” Hyukjae whispered. Junsu nodded dumbly, and Hyukjae ducked back into the house, tugging on his coat, grimacing at the way his shirt stuck to his back, damp with sweat. Maids were sweeping up the broken glass, and Hyukjae sighed, noting the ball against the wall, out of its element in a room of ceramic tiles and gourmet ingredients.
“What were you playing, Hyuk?” Donghae asked, lingering back behind his friends to link arms with Hyukjae.
“It’s called soccer.”
Donghae paused, looking troubled. “You should teach it to me. You wouldn’t get in so much trouble if we played it together.”
Hyukjae felt a rush of affection for his brother, but he shook his head. “I don’t think it’s the company so much as the game, Hae. Respectable young men play croquet and tennis, they don’t run around in the dirt after a ball.”
“Then you should play croquet with us,” Donghae said decisively. Heechul, who had clearly been eavesdropping, snorted derisively.
“Hyukjae? With a mallet? With his hand-eye coordination, we’d have less injuries playing with an ape.”
“Your sarcasm is as indelicate as ever, Heechul.” With a sigh of relief, Hyukjae turned to see Sungmin, hand on Kyuhyun’s arm. Kyuhyun was the only man capable of matching wits with Heechul. Well, rumour had it that Kibum had a quick wit as well, but the man was so withdrawn that it was difficult to confirm.
“Any delicacy in my sarcasm would pale in comparison to that of your health,” Heechul said, and Hyukjae widened his eyes at the obvious slight to Kyuhyun’s fitness. Kyuhyun had been afflicted with the whooping cough the previous winter, and Sungmin still spoke anxiously of moments when Kyuhyun found himself faint, short for breath.
“As entertaining as it is to watch the two of you cross swords, I actually need to speak to my brothers,” Sungmin said, stepping between the two men. “Hyukjae, Donghae? My study?”
“Sungmin, sir, your father expects you to give the toast at the party,” Eeteuk said. Sungmin smiled his winning smile and nodded.
“We won’t be long, I promise.”
Sungmin’s study was a stark contrast to the mellow, cheerful hues of their old playroom. A stern, decidedly unfriendly oak desk was the centrepiece of the room, the effect bolstered by dark chestnut panelling. Sungmin did not take his seat behind the desk, choosing to steer his brothers to the settee by the window instead, and he tugged one of the ornamented Bergere chairs around with some effort before settling on the edge of it. Hyukjae eased himself down onto the leather settee, grimacing when the leather squeaked inelegantly under his weight.
“Oh, Hyukjae,” Sungmin sighed, even as Donghae stifled a laugh behind his hand. “What will you do when we aren’t around to save you from yourself?”
“Die lonely, I expect,” Hyukjae said forlornly. “What’s your news? Has Kyuhyun proposed, then?”
Sungmin grinned, cheeks flushing pink. “Yes, in fact.”
“Sungmin!” Donghae cried happily, reaching out his hands. “Congratulations!”
“Congratulations, Min,” Hyukjae said, genuinely glad for his older brother. Kyuhyun was a good man, and Sungmin’s love for him was undeniable.
“Oh!” Donghae sat up. And then he sank back into his seat, the picture of disappointment. “Kibum didn’t come to the party today.”
“Didn’t he? I could’ve sworn I spotted him behind the palms, glowering at the world for daring to exist,” Sungmin teased.
“Are you announcing your engagement today?” Hyukjae asked, as Donghae climbed onto the couch, peering out of the window as if he hoped to spot Kibum loitering among the trees.
“At the toast. Father approves, of course. The joining of two of Boston’s most influential families, the beginning of an empire, something or other…” Sungmin rolled his eyes, but he was beaming so widely his teeth were gleaming in the sunlight.
“Well, as long as it’s you running the world, I suppose it will be all right,” Hyukjae said, giving Sungmin a lop-sided grin.
“I see him!” Donghae exclaimed, jabbing an excited finger at the pane of glass between him and the front lawn below. “Oh no, Heechul’s cornered him.”
“There’ll be bloodshed,” Hyukjae feigned horror. “Tears.”
“We better get down there, then,” Sungmin said, laughing. “It’s about time for the toast, at any rate. To our father’s generous donation to Harvard, to our mother’s health, and to me, for landing my man.”
“If you say those exact words,” Donghae said, lips pulled back in mirth, “I’ll give you half my inheritance.”
Hyukjae always felt the contrast between them was most striking when the three brothers stood in a row as they did now, standing beside their parents, glasses raised as Sungmin led the toast. Sungmin and Donghae were tanned where Hyukjae’s skin remained lily-white, no matter how many hours he spent lolling in the sun. Their smiles too, were so different - Sungmin’s bright and infectious, Donghae’s brilliant and genuine, Hyukjae’s pained and awkward as he tried to keep his upper lip from sliding past his gums - a habit, Heechul had assured him, that distressed woodland creatures and made small children bawl.
He took an instinctive step backwards when guests came forward to congratulate Sungmin and Kyuhyun, and watched as Donghae slipped down to the grass, making a beeline for the trees. No one came to speak to him, and Hyukjae glanced around for Eeteuk. Satisfying himself that Eeteuk was too busy whispering names into his father’s ear to notice his absence, Hyukjae darted around the side of the house, loosening his collar as did so. His duty was done for the day, he could duck into the comfort of Junsu’s much less ostentatious home and spend the day not being Lee Hyukjae.
“Sneaking off?” Hyukjae skidded to a halt, feeling his cheeks grow hot as he stared up at the bewitching smile of one Kim Jongwoon. Jongwoon had silky, dark hair, gorgeous, piercing eyes and a deep, melodic voice. He was stylish in a manner that suggested affluence without being overtly grandiose, and he could have his pick of any of the available young men in town (and quite a few of the unavailable as well), but for no reason that Hyukjae could fathom, he persistently appeared before Hyukjae at the most sudden and unexpected moments. Their meetings were always short - Hyukjae always found some way to escape before Jongwoon became too forward with his advances - but they always left him feeling flustered and off-balance.
“I was just-” he began, but stopped and instinctively took a step backwards as Jongwoon took one forward.
“Just?” Jongwoon urged him softly, chuckling under his breath as Hyukjae began to stammer.
“Just… Wine! I was just going to get more wine from the cellar.” Ducking his head, Hyukjae tried to ease around Jongwoon, slim form sliding sideways against the wall of the house only to be halted by a strong arm. Hyukjae stared helplessly at the offending limb even as Jongwoon closed the distance between them.
“I should come with you,” he said in a voice that sent shivers down Hyukjae’s spine. “Wouldn’t want you getting lost in the dark.”
“T-that-” Hyukjae clamped his teeth on his tongue, shame burning in a lump in his throat. He hadn’t stuttered for years, not since his parents had hired a governess for the sole purpose of helping him master his speech impediment, and yet here he was, cornered by Jongwoon, of all the men in the world, who ran with Heechul’s ilk, and he was stuttering.
“Ahem.”
Jongwoon’s shirt rustled as he stepped back, arms falling to his side. Hyukjae turned slowly, back pressed against the wall in an effort to keep as much distance between him and Jongwoon as he could, and fairly sagged with relief to see that it was Eeteuk who had discovered them.
“Master Jongwoon, the majority of the guests are gathered before the patio. Perhaps you would like to join them.” Eeteuk spoke in a manner that brooked no debate, and Hyukjae could see the line of Jongwoon’s shoulders go rigid even as he inclined his head with an easy grace. The private smile Jongwoon gave him made his stomach twist in knots, and Hyukjae cast his gaze down to the dewy grass until the shade of Jongwoon’s shadow disappeared around the side of the house.
“Th-thanks, Eet-teuk.” Hyukjae clapped his hand over his mouth, horrified. It had taken years to cure him of this unfortunate ailment, and one moment with Jongwoon had made him come undone.
Eeteuk pressed his lips into a thin line, frowning, and Hyukjae could almost hear the cogs in his mind turning. He drew a breath and held it, eyes fixed once again on the grass, tracing patterns in the blades until Eeteuk spoke again.
“Your parents have invited your brother’s fiancé to dine this evening. You’ll be expected to attend.”
Hyukjae nodded dumbly, wondering how he would be able to tame his traitorous tongue before dinner. Kyuhyun had always been amiable, perhaps even sympathetic, whether because he was a generous man or because Sungmin had twisted his arm into playing nice, but Hyukjae didn’t think he could bear the humiliation of stuttering before him.
“You should leave the housekeeper’s cottage by four if you are to be washed and ready by dinner.”
Eeteuk had already turned to return to the front of the house, so he missed the look of immense gratitude Hyukjae gave his retreating back.
“I-I’m really s-sorry,” he told Junsu the moment he passed through the doors of the housekeeper’s modest home. “Ab-bout earli-er.”
“Are you stuttering again?” Junsu asked, eyebrows raised.
“N-no.”
“Oh.” Junsu pursed his lips. “Then shut up and help me eat all of this before Yoochun gets back,” he said, pointing to a large tray of left over hors d'oeurves.
“D-doesn’t he like th-these?” Hyukjae asked, pushing a brie tart into his mouth. He was starving, having been unable to eat much at the party what with Eeteuk hovering over him, making disapproving little clicks of the tongue every time Hyukjae so much as turned in the direction of the buffet table.
“Exactly,” Junsu said, lips curving mischievously, and Hyukjae laughed, spraying crumbs over the table.
By the time the tray was mostly empty, and Junsu was groaning with the burden of too many little pastries, Hyukjae had lost most of his stutter. He trailed his finger along the cool metal surface of the tray, sweeping the crumbs into a heap.
“So what caused the stuttering?” Junsu asked, watching Hyukjae’s fingers through half-lidded eyes, yawning a little mid-speech.
“Kim Jongwoon.”
“Hmm.”
There were realms of meaning hidden in that ‘hmm’. Hyukjae arched an eyebrow, waiting for Junsu to expand on them.
“We talk, among the servants-”
“You’re not a s-servant.”
“Yes, I am, shut up and listen. Jongwoon’s valet, Kangin, he said that Jongwoon’s family’s been having some money trouble lately.”
“Did he tell you this in confidence?”
“I said shut up, god, get conned out of your inheritance for all I care.” Junsu threw the crust of a half eaten tart at Hyukjae, landing it square between his eyes. “Listen, Jongwoon’s the kind of guy who’ll stop at nothing to make sure he keeps the kind of comfortable lifestyle he’s used to. You’re an easy target, I mean, everyone thinks you’re so desperate to be married you’ll fall on the first man to give you any attention.”
“Hey!” Hyukjae sat up, agitated, brushing crumbs off his face. “That’s hardly the case. Do you even bother d-defending me when you hear such dribble?”
“No, you’re so hideous you should fall on the first man to give you any attention. As long as it isn’t Kim Jongwoon.”
“I’m so touched that you c-care,” Hyukjae said sarcastically, but the bite of his sarcasm was rather ruined by the stutter.
In the next chapter, we are introduced to Siwon! What lies in the past of this embittered sea captain (lmao I love that description) and his loyal friend, Hangeng? What were their motives for coming to Boston? What secret lies in the hull of the Sapphire Pearl? ALL THIS AND MORE. *dies from the crack*