Suits (3/3)
By the time they sit up from Luhan's mattress, it's seven-thirty in the evening.
Minseok scrounges around for his phone and finds it in the pocket of his jacket. Luhan hooks his chin over the bodyguard's shoulder and snakes an arm around his waist. He kisses casually down Minseok's nape.
"Enough," Minseok laughs, pitching forward because it tickles.
Luhan's smile is damp against his skin. "I'll never get enough."
It's cheesy and embarrassing, and Minseok struggles to think of a retort that doesn't make him seem so whipped.
The light on the corner of his phone is blinking--a welcome distraction. Minseok presses the button that powers up his home screen. There are six missed calls from the prince.
"Shit," he mutters, as Luhan cranes over his shoulder to see. "He must be starving by now."
Luhan produces his own phone and logs three missed calls. "You might be right," he chuckles, peeling off. He keeps his hand on the small of Minseok's back. "Let's go feed him."
The prince's room is on the opposite end of the hall to Luhan's, right next to Minseok's. They walk the short distance together, arms bumping accidentally-on-purpose.
The television isn't humming behind the paper wall, and the absence of a glow denotes the lights are off, too.
"Your Highness?" Minseok raps softly on the doorframe. There's no answer. He tries again.
"Maybe he's sleeping?" Luhan suggests.
There this tiny, tiny niggle at the back of Minseok's head. "Let me just check." Carefully, he slides the door open, trying to make as little noise as possible. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, with just a small shaft of light streaming in from the hallway behind him.
"Your Highness?" Still no answer.
The niggle insists, like a splinter he can feel but not see. He steps into the room. "Prince Sehun," he says in a louder voice, right before palming the wall and flipping the light switch. The prince's bed is made, and his in-suite bathroom is empty.
"He's not in here," Minseok says, pushing past Luhan. His feet are quick when he climbs down the stairs that lead to the first floor. It's an open space; one sweep of the eye is enough to tell Minseok the prince isn't here, either. "Your Highness?" he calls out anyway, the niggle intensifying into a scrape.
His phone is still in his hand. He presses the icon next to one of Sehun's logged calls to return it. The line rings.
One of the ryokan's staff, a woman, is setting down a teapot in the dining area. "Have you seen Prince Sehun?" Minseok asks her in English.
It's still ringing.
"Yes, Mr. Kim, he went out."
"Out?" Minseok sputters, just as the line picks up. He doesn't even wait for the hello.
"Your Highness, where are you?"
"Oppa?" It's Aki's voice on the other end. "I've been trying to call you for an hour!"
Panic spreads like wildfire through Minseok's chest. "Aki-sshi," he tries to say calmly. "Where is the prince?"
"We're at the hospital..."
Minseok's stomach drops. He staggers back a step, straight into Luhan's chest.
"Oppa, I didn't know he was coming to see me--"
Minseok cuts her off. "What happened?"
Luhan puts a hand on his shoulder. "Minseok?"
The touch, mingled with his panic, makes his skin crawl, and he jerks away from it.
"They started chasing us, oppa--"
"Who?" Minseok demands as Luhan hand drops to his side. He looks as though he's just been slapped.
"Those crazy girls..."
That's concern he sees on Luhan's face--concern stretched taut at the corners from the pressure of the hurt underneath it. Minseok doesn't care right now. He sidesteps his partner and his feet are gaining momentum again, racing him back up the stairs to grab his shoes and his wallet.
"We were running so fast," Aki narrates in his ear, "and Sehun fell. He fell really hard. The doctor said his leg is broken and there's something wrong with his side, too, and I--" Her breath hitches in distress. "My parents are on their way. Just please come?" She gives him the name and address of the hospital.
"We're on our way, Aki-sshi."
Minseok hangs up, and the guilt comes by way of flash flood.
Luhan is at the bottom of the staircase, pulling on his sneakers in haste. Minseok doesn't wait for him. Adrenaline pushes him out the door and into the street and has him standing in the middle of the road to get a taxi screeching to a halt. Then Luhan is next to him again and he's panting and placing his hand on Minseok's elbow, and Minseok jerks away even harder than he did the first time.
"Minseok--"
"Don't," he spits at Luhan, the last few hours feeling like a distant memory. "Just get in."
Not once, in the six years Sehun has been entrusted to his charge, has Minseok let him out of his sight while on duty.
Not once, in the six years Minseok has been Sehun's bodyguard, has the prince gotten so much as a scratch on him.
A bodyguard is a person whose job it is to protect someone. Minseok has never forgotten the definition. Minseok has never forgotten his responsibilities.
Not once.
Until today.
"Tell me exactly what happened, Kim." The Queen's voice is crisp over the long-distance call. "Tell me from the beginning."
What happened is that Sehun had snuck out of the ryokan and into Aki's university, high from his confession and wanting to be alone with her.
What happened is that, overnight, a battery of photos of the prince's black dye job and telltale mask and that girl from the Higashiyama District took the Japanese blogosphere by storm.
What happened is that a good number of morbidly-obsessed fans were on campus to make the connection.
"They mobbed him, Your Majesty." Minseok's voice is penitent. "The prince made a run for it with Aki-sshi. He was watching her feet, not his, as they sprinted down a flight of stairs, and that's how he took the tumble."
Sehun has fractured his left leg in three places, bruised two ribs, and dislocated a shoulder. The doctors say it will hurt for several weeks, but the prince will survive.
When Minseok had rushed into the hospital room, Luhan at his heels, the first thing out of the Sehun's mouth had been, "HyungI'msorryfuckthathurtsdon'tbemad!"
The Queen sighs. "He's never managed to get away from you before. Where were you and Luhan in all this?"
Slow-kissing in Luhan's bed, oblivious to the world around them. That's where they had been, but Minseok doesn't tell her this.
"We weren't watching him closely enough, Your Majesty," is the explanation he offers instead. "We were lax in our duties."
"That is so unlike you, Kim."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Her words only cut because they're true. "I deeply apologize and take full responsibility."
There's silence on the other end. Minseok can hear the Queen's breathing through the receiver, even and contemplative. He waits.
"Kim?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Does he look happy?"
He wasn't expecting that. "Pardon?"
"Does my son look happy," the Queen expounds, "when he's with that little girl?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Minseok answers truthfully. "Very much so."
"Good," she murmurs. Then her voice is as clear as before. "I'll speak to him now, please. Bring him home when he's healed. No rush."
The end takes place in the sterile hallway, when the painkillers have lulled the prince to sleep.
"What happened earlier, at the ryokan," Minseok mutters. "I want us to forget it did."
Luhan's expression crumples like paper. "Minseok, why are you--"
He's shaking his head, pressing his lips together. "Don't," Minseok warns. He allows the harshness to coat his tone, ignores the clench of his stomach and the misery in his partner's eyes. "Neither of us can afford a distraction like this."
Something flickers in Luhan's face. "This isn't a distraction for me. This is real." He reaches for Minseok's hand, and cruelly, Minseok steps back.
"What's real is my job," Minseok growls under his breath. "What's real is the prince sustaining bodily injuries because I was busy not doing my job. I won't let it happen again."
"I care about him as much as you do," Luhan whispers, fingers clenching. "I feel guilty, too, all right? His safety is top priority to me. But there are other things," and his voice quavers, "--that are just as important."
The word leaves Minseok on an exhale: "Enough." He reels at how quickly it comes back to him then--the memory of Luhan's open mouth against the skin of his neck.
Part of Minseok frantically whispers, Don't do it. You can have this. It's a small part, about the size of the lump in his throat. The bigger, more powerful part of him hisses, You can't. Do it now.
"Why can't you just let your guard down for once?" Luhan sounds so broken.
"I already did." One decision, two steps, and Minseok is brushing by him to quietly open the door. "Look where that got the prince."
After a week, Sehun is discharged from the hospital but ordered to bed rest at the ryokan. Aki's father, the ambassador, sends a car and a driver.
"My dad says he's never met a prince who takes public transportation," Aki tells Sehun as she helps him out of bed. She's come to see him every day. Her parents have been twice, counting the night Sehun was admitted.
"He likes me," Sehun boasts. "And I think your mom does, too." He grips Minseok's arm as he lowers himself into his wheelchair. "Do I really have to use this, hyung?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Minseok replies briskly.
Aki busies herself with packing up Sehun's toiletries in the bathroom, humming as she organizes the bottles in a pouch.
Sehun smiles contentedly at her back before glancing up at Minseok. Like his gaze, the prince's voice is tentative. "Are you still angry?"
"No, Your Highness." Minseok sees no point in dwelling over it. He had been angry, with himself mostly, but after days of beating himself up about it, he's just exhausted. He hopes that doesn't show on his face. Among other things.
Sehun's brow furrows. He turns his head to look over his shoulder. "And you, Luhan-hyung?"
Minseok keeps his eyes on the ground, but he still hears the murmured, "No, Your Highness. I'm not either."
"I don't believe you," Sehun pouts, looking back and forth between his bodyguards. "It's been quiet as death in here all week. The two of you, not saying a word." Sehun sighs. "I was stupid, okay? I just wanted it to be...just me and Aki and...it was stupid. Really stupid. And I'm really, really, really, really sorry. I never meant to get you guys in trouble."
"It's all right, Your Highness," Minseok replies. "We still have our jobs."
"Hyung..."
"Just don't do it again, please?"
"Never. I promise."
Minseok tries on a grin and lets the prince have it. "We're just glad you're okay. Everything is fine." From the corner of his eye, he sees Luhan lick his lips.
"Don't worry, Your Highness," the Chinese bodyguard quips. His voice is unnaturally bright, like the plastic props in those Japanese game shows on TV. "Everything's back to normal now."
They remain in Japan for another eight weeks. The prince heals slowly, but satisfactorily, under Minseok's strict supervision and Luhan's slightly more tolerant watch.
Aki visits every day, and they take shifts at the door when she's tending to Sehun. Quick runs to 7-Eleven for potato chips and oral analgesics are not a team effort. There is no fraternizing in Luhan's or Minseok's rooms at the end of the day.
July in Kyoto is not as warm and sticky as it is in Seoul. Minseok thought he would be sad to leave the ryokan behind, but it's more like he's relieved. There are things that happened here--and all over this city--he would like to lock into his suitcase and not unpack.
Aki doesn't come to the airport on the day they fly back, but she kisses Sehun on the mouth when he drops by her parents' house to say goodbye.
"I love you," the prince tells her, wobbling on his crutches from the sheer giddiness of it.
"Me, too," she tells him, as Minseok and Luhan avert their eyes. "See you in September."
They take a chartered plane back to Korea, courtesy of the King. Sehun sleeps like a baby during the short flight, and his bodyguards sit across from one another, watchful and silent.
Their relationship has dialled back to the way it was before they came to Japan. Strictly business, with perfectly-constructed boundaries and not too much chatter.
Just what Minseok wanted.
Right?
The King gets to embrace his son for all of three seconds before the Queen crowds him out to fuss.
"I'm all right," Sehun laughs as she forces him into a chair and gingerly strokes over his cast. "This comes off in a few weeks."
"Good," she says imperiously, "because you're grounded until then."
The prince laughs even louder, with double the amount of warmth, and tells his mother he's not a kid anymore.
"That's not what you said a few months ago." The Queen is coy, her tone relenting.
"I know." Sehun pecks her on the cheek. "But now I have a reason to grow up."
In the background, the King comes to stand next to Minseok and Luhan, who both bow low in greeting.
"How was Japan?" the King asks pleasantly, clapping them both on the shoulder. "Did you enjoy yourselves?"
Minseok bows again, and Luhan follows suit.
"I apologize for letting the prince get hurt, Your Majesty." Minseok remains at the ninety-degree angle as he speaks.
"We were careless, Your Majesty," Luhan murmurs next to him.
The King makes a sound of contemplation at the back of his throat. "Boys will be boys. It wasn't all your fault."
They straighten their backs.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Luhan says before Minseok can. He's using the official, trained timbre they were taught at the academy. "It won't happen again."
Luhan's jaw is set, and his stance is impeccable, and Minseok can tell he's talking about more than letting the prince out of their sight.
Settling back into the routine of the palace is easy, because Minseok has always been good with procedure.
Pressing an immaculate crease into his suit trousers and easing a tie into the perfect knot. Reporting for duty at six in the morning and sharing drip coffee with Chanyeol in the cafeteria before the prince gets up for school. Sweeping a room from corner to corner, floorboards to rafters, before permitting the prince to occupy it. Standing for hours by a door or a desk, feet apart, hands crossed in front of him--protective, but at ease. Not thinking about anything else but the job--this is easy. This is familiar.
He sees Luhan every day, and this is also familiar. But as the silence between them swells like a tumor, the same routine Minseok used to find comfort in only brings him unease.
It doesn't help knowing that he's to blame.
"Is everything okay, hyung?" Sehun asks one day when he's got Minseok alone. Luhan has just excused himself for a bathroom break.
Minseok replies automatically. "Of course, Your Highness."
Sehun hesitates, because his bodyguard sounds so sure. "You and Luhan-hyung, though...you seem like you fought."
The ambiguous hum that vibrates in Minseok's throat is neither a yes nor a no.
"I noticed in Japan, when you guys stopped talking. At first I thought you were punishing me, you know, giving me the cold shoulder..."
Minseok cracks a minute smile.
"But then I realized you weren't talking to each other."
"Nothing to be concerned about, Your Highness." Minseok schools his expression into indifference. "Everything is fine."
"That's always your tagline," Sehun says. "But I don't think it's true today."
Minseok finds it more prudent to stay silent.
"I don't know what happened," the prince continues, "and it's probably none of my business." He puts a hand on Minseok's shoulder, and Minseok is surprised to find in the weight of it that his charge is no longer a child. "But I hope it can still be fixed, hyung."
A lot can change in the span of two months. Minseok knows this, because he's watching it happen before his very eyes.
Luhan is no longer an amused grin in a dark corner of one of Prince Jongin's parties, or the other end of a knowing look when Prince Sehun gushes over a call from Aki. He is neither a confidant at the end of the day over a cup of unsweetened tea, nor a welcoming face at the lunch table in the cafeteria, his palm saving Minseok a seat.
The new Luhan is a consummate professional who gets to work thirty minutes before Minseok does and takes his coffee at home, alone. He is a skilled agent who tutors Sehun for his foreign language courses and only speaks to Minseok when spoken to first. He is an accountable partner who helps Minseok talk the prince out of his weekly weird ideas and who has refused, for months, to make eye contact.
The meter that Luhan carefully measures out between them, everywhere they go, is not enough space for Minseok's unspoken regrets.
Aki touches down in Seoul just a few days after the leaves change color. There is a media maelstrom surrounding her arrival--and a clog of Sehun's sasaengs at the airport, polluting it with noise. "Kyoto's Kate Middleton," the papers are calling her.
Naturally, the Queen has taken it upon herself to phone her "daughter-in-law's" parents ahead of time. They're old friends, "territorial disputes be damned." Together, they've worked out the proper precautions.
The name of Aki's bodyguard is Wu Yifan. He is Chinese in descent--born in Guangzhou, raised in Vancouver, trained in Tokyo. He is also over six feet tall, with the build of an athlete and the face of a movie star.
In the confines of the palace, Sehun takes one look at him and frowns. "I don't like this guy," he tells Aki, in full hearing of her bodyguard.
"Relax," she whispers, shooting the prince a loaded glance. "He's not interested in women."
This appeases Sehun greatly. "Perfect!" he says, finally acknowledging Yifan's deep bow. "Meet my bodyguards, Minseok-hyung and Luhan-hyung. Luhan-hyung is Chinese, too." The suits make their introductions as Sehun draws his girlfriend away.
Yifan tells Minseok it's a pleasure to meet him in perfectly-accented Korean. Presumably, he says the same to Luhan, except in Mandarin. Minseok doesn't miss the way Luhan lights up at the sound of his native tongue, or how Yifan's gaze lingers on his partner's face just a moment too long.
Aki and the prince spend almost all their time together. This means Yifan spends almost all his time with Minseok and Luhan.
It's always the same thing on every excursion. Minseok lapses into silence and stoicism as the two other bodyguards chat in muted voices. Often, he is privy to their soft peals of laughter, their friendly touches on each other's shoulders and elbows. They talk about local watering holes in Tokyo Minseok has never heard of and Chinese family idiosyncrasies he can't relate to. Luhan always looks so much more relaxed than he did when he came in to work.
"Is Luhan-oppa seeing anybody?" Aki inquires over an unusually warm weekend. Minseok is standing next to the chair she's occupying in Sehun's study.
The prince is on the other side of the room, his head bent over Advanced Mandarin coursework as Luhan and Yifan loom behind to help. Luhan points out something on the exercise sheet; Sehun slaps his forehead in frustration. Yifan is smiling at the other bodyguard over the prince's head.
Minseok's throat feels a little tight when he offers a reply. "I wouldn't know, Aki-sshi."
"Oh? I thought..." Her tone is strange. "Never mind." She follows Minseok's line of vision. Yifan is trying to explain something to the prince, using his hands as visual aids. Luhan is laughing at him, the way he used to laugh with Minseok.
"Yifan-oppa is not seeing anybody." Aki drops this information casually. "But I don't think he'll have a problem changing that, if he wants to."
"Wu mentioned he is single," Minseok mumbles. He suspects Yifan has noticed those crinkles that form at the corners of Luhan's eyes, the ones Minseok has always considered a kind of secret.
It is enough to coil a knot in his stomach. Yifan places a hand on Luhan's shoulder as they bend over Sehun's homework--much like he would do to a friend. But it makes the knot spasm, and it grows larger and tighter, until it's as though Minseok is being wrung out from the inside.
So this is what it's like, he thinks to himself. When you realize you've made a horrible mistake.
He hasn't been paying attention, but Aki is still speaking.
"Are you listening, oppa?"
Minseok apologizes quickly, head hazy, and asks her to repeat herself. She slides out of her chair, and she's looking at him in her quiet way, like she knows everything that's gone on in his mind.
"I said don't wait too long, oppa. That's all."
She only lets her fingers rest on his forearm for a second before she's making her way over to the prince, leaving Minseok bewildered and as jealous of Wu Yifan as ever.
When Luhan doesn't report for duty on a frosty December morning, it's Yifan who tells Minseok he is sick.
"He's got a high fever, Kim," Yifan says over the phone. "Do you know a Chinese restaurant that's open this early? I was planning on bringing him some congee before--"
"Don't bother," Minseok interrupts. He's already standing up, abandoning his coffee cup. He grabs his heavy padded coat off the back of his chair and doesn't give Chanyeol an explanation as he walks towards the cafeteria's exit. "Luhan is my partner. I'll go."
Luhan's apartment building is similar to Minseok's in that it's actually an officetel and not too far from the palace. Minseok has procured the address from the royal secretary and told her he'd be back in an hour. The prince will be getting up soon.
He takes the elevator to the fifth floor and consults the slip of paper in his hand one more time before pressing the doorbell to apartment 520.
"Luhan," he calls. "It's me." He almost says Kim. "Minseok."
He has to press the button again, and listen to another set of ding-dong, ding-dong, before he finally hears the sounds of movement. There's the creak of a mattress and the pad of sluggish steps coming closer and closer to the door.
It opens, and Luhan's on the other side, slumped and wan with fatigue. His eyes are half-lidded and his lips are pale and completely dry. Minseok heart twists.
"What are you doing here?" Luhan's voice rasps, but Minseok can still make out the surprise in it.
"I heard you were sick." Minseok lifts the bag of cooking ingredients and medicine he's got in one hand. "Let me in so I can set you up."
Luhan shuffles over to one side so Minseok can pass. He shuts the door and just stands there, watching Minseok carefully.
"I thought Yifan was coming," he says, husky from the fever.
"He was." Minseok tongue rubs against the roof of his mouth. "Just...let me help you."
When Luhan makes no attempt at a response, Minseok takes it as his chance to control the situation. "Go back to bed, Luhan," he tells him gently. "I'll make some porridge and bring it to you."
That seems to do it. Luhan nods, just once, and turns to go. His foot catches on the hem of his pajama bottoms as he does so, and he stumbles. Before he knows what he's doing, Minseok has dropped the plastic bag on the floor and hooked his arm around Luhan's waist to catch him.
"Careful," Minseok snaps, automatically taking Luhan's arm and looping it over his neck for extra support. Then he looks up--and Luhan's face is thisclose to his. Underneath the weakness of his eyelids, the Chinese bodyguard's gaze is confused. Searching, almost.
This is the closest they have ever gotten to each other since the time they kissed at the ryokan.
"Come on," Minseok mutters, feeling heat creep up his neck and looking quickly away. "You need to lie down." Neither Luhan's waist nor his arm leaves Minseok's grip until the latter has gotten him safely into bed.
Minseok hands him two paracetamol tablets and a glass of water to wash them down. He pulls the covers up to Luhan's chin and heads to the kitchen to start on the porridge. He tries to concentrate on his mother's quickest recipe, which is feasible, thanks to the cooked rice he finds on Luhan's counter. He tries not to dwell on the way Luhan had looked at him when Minseok had tucked him in.
Twenty minutes later, when the porridge is ready, Minseok goes to check on his partner and finds him fast asleep.
Minseok doesn't want to wake him, so he ladles out a single serving of the porridge into a bowl and leaves the rest under a lid on the stovetop. He places the bowl on Luhan's small dining table, along with side dishes of kimchi and dried fish which he'd grabbed at the grocery store along with the other stuff. He opens drawers until he finds the one where Luhan keeps his utensils, adding a sterling silver spoon and chopsticks to the table. He leaves the rest of fever medicine just within reach.
I'll be back later, is what he puts in the note, just before he leaves Luhan's apartment.
The day passes slowly.
Minseok tries his best to reassure Sehun and Aki of his partner's health. He hedges questioning looks from Yifan and types out a text to Luhan, asking him how he is.
Six hours later, when Minseok's screen is grimy with the thumbprints of double-, triple-, quadruple-checking, Luhan sends his reply.
Better, the text reads.
See you later, Minseok texts back. He takes Luhan's silence as acquiescence.
It's almost 9:00 when Minseok returns to Luhan's building. It's freezing outside, and Minseok is pulling his coat tight around his body even when he's in the elevator. He's armed with more medicine--the Eastern kind, this time, in palm-sized sachets--and just enough groceries to last Luhan a few more days.
He's also armed with the determination to say what he really feels.
He presses the bell to 520, and this time, Luhan answers the door promptly.
He still seems more tired than usual, but his face has regained its color. He's wearing the same white sleeping shirt and gray pajamas he had on this morning, and his dark bangs are flopping over his forehead. As he reaches to brush them away, his eyes flick up to meet Minseok's.
"Hey." There is so much restraint in the greeting.
"I'm back," Minseok says, because he can't think of anything better.
"Come in," Luhan murmurs, and it all seems so familiar. Quiet conversations in the ryokan and doors slid open and shut.
Minseok follows him into the kitchen and sets down the bags as Luhan prepares two glasses of water. While his back is turned, Minseok sees that the bowl of porridge he'd set on the table has been scraped clean.
"You ate?" he asks, when Luhan hands him the water and leans against the counter.
"Yes." Luhan moistens his lips with his tongue. "Thank you for the food."
"You're welco--"
"You even laid it out for me," Luhan continues. "You didn't have to do that. No one's done that for me since I lived with my parents."
"You're not well," Minseok says. "You should be taken care of." He hesitates only for a moment, because Luhan is looking at him so, so cautiously. Minseok can't stop the words from tumbling out. "I should be the one to take care of you. I want to be the one."
There.
He said it.
He isn't prepared for Luhan's not-quite-smile, which softens the corner of his mouth.
"You're a good guy, Minseok." Luhan's voice is resigned. "Because we're partners, right?"
But, no, no, no, this is all wrong. Minseok can see just how Luhan is struggling--the wince of sadness under the guise of a neutral expression. The special smile he's always reserved for Minseok is slipping, and it breaks Minseok's heart, because he knows he's broken Luhan's. He can't let him misunderstand.
"No, not because we're partners, Luhan." His voice trembles only in the beginning. "Because I'm in love with you."
Luhan's mouth parts on an exhale, and all the color he'd just recovered from sleep and proper medication is draining from his face.
"W-what?" he stammers. "But you said..."
Minseok puts down his glass. He hasn't even had a chance to drink from it. There's only that infuriating meter between him and Luhan, and he closes it easily.
"I know what I said," Minseok mutters. "I know what I did, and how unfair it was to you. I was an asshole, Luhan--I'm still an asshole. I don't have any excuses." His breath comes out staggered. "But I'm in love with you. I love everything about you. I hate that I hurt you. I hate it so much. And I need you to know that."
They're standing so close, Minseok could brush his knuckles against Luhan's if he wanted to, with just the slightest shift of the wrist. He doesn't dare.
"I'm sorry," he finds himself saying instead. "I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I blamed you, and I'm sorry it's taken this long to apologize. I'm sorry for telling you this now, when you're sick and you should be resting." He drops his eyes to the floor before willing them back up again. "I just, I wish I could take it all back."
Luhan has been staring at him this whole time, his face half-pained and half...something else.
Minseok doesn't know why that gives him hope. "I, I know I have no right to even ask. I know I don't deserve it at all, and I should stop making this difficult for you, but..." He forces his tongue to move, to push out the words. "Can I..."
"Can you what?" Luhan whispers.
"Can I..." The words are stuck.
"Minseok," Luhan pleads. "Just finish the sentence."
So Minseok does. "Can I have another chance, Luhan?" He braces himself for impact.
The sharp intake of breath he gets in return is not a comfort. It sends a shiver down Minseok's spine and dries out the inside of his mouth.
"The other day," Luhan mutters, "Yifan was telling me how complicated second chances can be..."
The blood rushes to Minseok's head. Here it is, he thinks. The rejection I deserve.
He knows he shouldn't be talking over Luhan, but he just doesn't want to hear the rest of it. "I understand." He barks out a laugh. "He's so much better for you than I am. It drives me crazy, you know, seeing you with him. I can't stand it. But if you like him--"
"No." Suddenly Luhan's hand is cupping the side of his face. "Don't do that."
A soft gasp exits his throat at the touch. "Do what?" Minseok chokes out.
"Don't give me away before we've even started!" Luhan shakes him by the jaw. "Just listen to me. You never listen to me, Minseok."
Minseok clams up, his eyes urging Luhan to explain.
"Yifan was telling me how complicated second chances can be, because once you give them away, you're ruined. You'll give third chances, fourth chances, fifth, sixth, and seventh chances, and before you know it, the tally's at a hundred and your heart is in a million pieces."
"Luhan..."
"I don't know what it is about you." His eyes drink in Minseok's face, like he's trying to find the answer. "You have this power over me, and even if I try to move on, I just can't." Luhan shakes his head violently. "I haven't stopped thinking about you. I can't even look at you without remembering how good it was in Japan. How we..." He shuts his eyes. "So I try not to look. But then again, it's hard for me to look at anyone else and not see every tiny thing about them as a reminder of you."
Minseok thinks of the fragility of tea whisks, the weightlessness of a cherry blossom in his palm, when he brushes their knuckles together.
"Yifan shows his gums when he smiles." When Luhan's hand gives, Minseok slips his fingers into the gaps. "You know you do, too, right?"
Minseok brings Luhan's hand to his lips.
"You can have another chance." Luhan presses their foreheads together. "You can have them all." His voice is like the hush in the teahouse. "Even if you break my heart again, every piece of it will still belong to you."
"I won't do that." Minseok places Luhan's hand on the other side of his face, pressing it there, so Luhan is cradling him. "You mean too much to me."
He inches forward, and they're chest to chest. He slips his hands between Luhan's to reach the back of his neck. He cards his fingers through the soft hairs there, his chest welling up when Luhan sighs. Gently, so very gently, Minseok pulls him in.
"Don't take it back again," Luhan mumbles, right before he tilts his head to let Minseok capture his mouth.
The thud of Minseok's coat hitting the floor of Luhan's bedroom is like a single heartbeat. "You still have this," Luhan whispers against his lips. The plaid muffler hangs flat against Minseok's chest, hidden underneath his outerwear.
"Yes." Minseok licks along the seam of Luhan's mouth. He gets to confess, "It reminds me of you," before Luhan is pulling off the scarf and pressing Minseok into his bed.
In the morning, when Minseok leaves for work, they are impossibly shy. Minseok hooks their pointers together at the door. He wishes he didn't have to go.
"Go on," Luhan says, rubbing his thumb against Minseok's hand. He'll need to sleep off the remnants of the fever, but Minseok thinks he looks beautiful. "Just come over after the shift. You don't have to text before you do." Luhan smiles, and it's like the sun has risen ahead of schedule. "No distractions on the job, Minseok."
"This isn't a distraction for me," Minseok tells him. He kisses Luhan's temple before whispering in his ear, "This is real."
Prince Sehun announces he is engaged exactly two years after his commencement.
"It's going to be a long engagement," he tells the media at the official press conference. "My fiancée is in graduate school, and she wants to complete her thesis on the Japanese tea ceremony before we get married. She's a master, you know." Aki is beaming next to him, and the look he gives her is tender. "We are very, very happy."
Behind the stage, hidden from view, Minseok and Luhan are watching like proud parents.
"Can you believe it?" Luhan whispers. "He's all grown up now."
"I know," Minseok whispers back. "The other day, I found him in the Crown Prince's study--he said Prince Joonmyun borrowed his issue of The Economist and he wanted it back. His issue, Luhan."
His partner chuckles. "No more pool parties and naked buffets for us, huh? We've graduated to stuffy conference halls and the scintillating agendas of state visits."
"It's the company that counts," Minseok tells him, and Luhan surreptitiously squeezes his hand.
Next to them, Yifan murmurs, "I'm telling Chanyeol about all your PDA."
Minseok slides over an expression of amusement. "I'm sorry, Wu, did you say 'Chanyeol?'" Their rapport is easy now, because Yifan isn't competition. "Since when was Park 'Chanyeol?'"
Yifan winks, his grin wry, and he looks straight ahead.
"Don't mind him," Luhan says. "Listen, you're missing the most important part."
The prince is retelling the story of his and Aki's courtship--how he'd botched their initial reunion, and how he'd made her fall in love with him, anyway, in the days, weeks, months that followed. The press is enthralled.
Minseok thinks of his own time in Kyoto between winter and spring, of falling in love with Luhan through somebody else's romance. He thinks of love and duty, of how some things are just beyond his control, and how it's not about separating one from the other but striking a solid balance.
Luhan's hand is still in his, so Minseok holds on tight. "Some things are just as important," he whispers, and this makes Luhan smile.
Back to Part 1