Political Science was Taeyong's least favorite class.
Considering all the riots and protests that the other students started, the class itself was usually tense and awkward, the professor glaring at anyone who dared to question him.
There was one boy who always questioned him, though. One who consistently got thrown out of class and could be seen putting up posters for new protests around campus. He was fierce and strong, black hair pulled back in a low ponytail and mouth set in a hard line at all times.
Taeyong never got his name, his professor would throw him out the moment he opened his mouth. But it didn’t take too long the moment he finally started asking around.
Seonsu. Park Seonsu. His family was made of doctors and despite their pressure, he refused to conform to their wills. He stood up for what he believed in and what he wanted, something Taeyong was too cowardly to do.
His admiration for the boy- manturned into a slight obsession.
Taeyong collected his posters, went to a few of the protests (hiding in the back and keeping out of sight as Seonsu poured out his heart and soul for what he believed in), and kept all the school newspapers that printed stories about him. He stored his collection in a locked drawer in his dorm, proud and ashamed of it at the same time.
They bumped into each other once on campus.
Seonsu was with a few other student leaders and Taeyong was too caught up studying his notes. His notes go everywhere, but it was Seonsu’s smile and laugh, something he’d never seen or heard from the other, that was more important.
“Sorry about that-” Seonsu said, collecting the papers from the ground.
“I-it’s fine!” Taeyong replied. “I should have watched where I was going…”
But Seonsu just smiled again, shaking his head. “It’s fine~ Hey- Wait! I’ve seen you around before- at the protests. Thanks for your support.” He handed over Taeyong’s notes and dug into his own bag. “There’s another tonight if you can make it,” He handed him a smaller flyer. “It’s going to be big and we’ll need all the people we can get.”
He patted Taeyong’s shoulder and walked off, leaving Taeyong a little mesmerized and more than a little shocked. He knew him? Had seen him?
Taeyong spent the rest of the day with a stupid smile on his face.
That was the last he ever saw of Park Seonsu.
The protest that night turned into a trap. A trap that Seonsu didn’t survive.
When Taeyong found out, nothing but the thought of his locked drawer full of Seonsu’s accomplishments and victories filled his mind. After he went to Seonsu’s viewing, there was only one option left.
And Taeyong wasn’t going to let Seonsu die in vain.
Han Jungwoo was spread across his desk, completely passed out after a long night on duty.
The postman quietly walked into the office, dropping a package and a few letters onto the only free corner of the desk.
Looking at the detective, he smiled, shaking his head at the drool on Jungwoo’s cheek. He pulled out his red handkerchief and wiped it away, biting his lip at the cute way Jungwoo’s face scrunched as the touch.
Turning back, he left as quietly as came, sighing a bit at not being able to catch a glimpse of the clumsy detective anymore. Today was his final day on this route and he was happy enough to have even seen the detective that didn’t even know who he was.
As his back disappeared through the door, Jungwoo moaned and sat up.
Yawning, he blinked at the package before tearing it open. The box held the exact evidence he needed and adrenaline filled his veins. Jungwoo sprinted out of his office, nearly taking out the poor postman, and screamed for his partner.
They got to work immediately while the postman slipped out, completely unnoticed and with a bit of a sad smile.
Taekyung knew something was off.
He’d been listening to the rumors and whispers around them. There was a hit on the Korean prime minister and a plan to strike while he was in Japan. No info could be found on who ordered the hit, but so long at Taekyung was there, nothing would happen.
He was one of the best bodyguards to come from South Korea and after his days of protecting the president, Taekyung was no stranger to assassination attempts.
What he didn’t know, however, was who he was up against.
The Killer was a hired hitman know for killing everything asked. He was quick and clean. No authority was able to trace a single thing about him.
The only thing he left was an intimate picture of his target, something that only a family member or friend would have. The picture was left next to the body or at the spot he had sniped them from.
Today, The Killer sat on a high window ledge, smoking a cigarette. He’d done all his research on the Korean prime minister and his “famous” bodyguard. Pulling out a pair of expensive binoculars, he spied the pair getting out of a limo, the Japanese prime minister ready to greet them.
A grin found a way onto his face when his gaze turned to Han Taekyung. It’d been almost too easy to play with the bodyguard. A few leaked rumors here, whispers of a hit there; he’d caught the bodyguard hook, line, and sinker. A thrill ran down his spine at the worry and suspicion in Taekyung’s eyes.
Nothing pleased him more than his games working out exactly as he planned.
He put the binoculars back and flicked his cigarette away, sliding back through the window and into the hotel room he rented under the Korean prime minister’s name. In less than ten minutes, his rifle was set up and angled just right. He leaned down, eye against the scope, and waited.
The moment the Korean prime minister stood up to give his speech, he started counting.
Taekyung still wasn’t feeling right.
He positioned himself right behind the prime minister in case anything should happen...but it did nothing to calm his nerves. His eyes roamed everywhere- across the crowd, over the surrounding buildings, the few cars that slowed to see what was going on- but there was nothing was wrong. Nothing seemed off.
His hands gripped tighter, finger flirting with the trigger. “Come on, Han Taekyung.” He mumbled to himself. “Show me how good you are.”
Two blocks away and on the 29th floor, Taekyung spotted the discreet barrel peaking through a window.
“Sir!” He grabbed the prime minister immediately, spinning them so that his body would take the shot first.
And it does.
Little did Taekyung know that that was The Killer’s exact plan.
It’s a quick process of three bullets. In less than 30 seconds, Taekyung and the prime minister were on the ground, blood getting everywhere. Bodies unmoving.
The Killer pulled two pictures out of his pocket. The first showed the prime minister cheating on his wife with another women in a hot spring.
But the second was of Han Taekyung. It was a much younger Taekyung, but Taekyung all the same, smiling brightly into the camera. The pictured stood out to him when he was looking up the bodyguard and he just had to pick it.
He still didn’t know why.
Tossing the pictures on the king-sized bed, he shrugged and grabbed his red backpack. He was already thinking about the next important thing- dinner.
He walked out of the hotel without a worry in the world, just as the police swarmed the hotel.
If anything, he was a little sad that Taekyung hadn’t spotted him earlier. It’d been a while since he’d been faced with a real challenge.
But it turned out to be just another day on the job.
The Crown Prince. Your Highness. Your Majesty. The King’s Son.
Yigak went by so many names and titles that weren’t his real name.
“Why can’t they just call me Yigak?” He asked his mother once, when he was still young and naive to the world his was born in.
She simply smiled at him, reaching down to smooth and fix his hanbok that he had messed up while playing.
“They can’t, my sweet little prince. But it’s more that they respect you and who you will be to them when you get older.” She cupped his face and kissed his forehead. “You’ll be king, just like your father, one day and already they look forward to your protection and wise guidance in their lives.”
Yigak was too young to fully understand her words, but nodded and gave her a hug. It was only in his early youth that he was able to get away with that sort of behavior anyway.
When he turned ten, Yigak’s father, The King, began his real training as crown prince. His lessons were tripled and he could no longer spend lunch and dinner with his mother. Confined to his own quarters and personal study room, it took a only a year for him to snap and rebel.
Dressed in stolen, dirty clothes, an eleven-year old Yigak climbed over the wall of the place and escaped into the surrounding village.
It was early morning, but the sun was up and people were already milling about. Stalls were set up with food and clothes and little trinkets that Yigak had never seen before.
Overwhelmed with such joy and freedom for the first time in his life, Yigak completely forgot about the time until he was face to face with palace guards sent to find him.
He was severely punished once he was safe back in the palace walls. No archery or physical training for two weeks. He was to stay in his quarters and study in silence, not a word to be spoken to anyone.
Not even his mother came to visit him during those two weeks, not even when his birthday passed.
The first day free from punishment, however, Yigak was given a gift. Or, at least, that’s what they call him.
“His name is Kyungtak, Your Highness. As Crown Prince you need a personal guard. He’ll be your shadow from now on, so Dont. Try. Anything.” His eunach stated, a warning look in his eyes.
But Yigak’s attention stayed on the other boy in front of him. Kyungtak was obviously older, and a little taller, than himself. His black hair was down, hiding most of his face and his clothes were two sizes too big.
He was boy trying to fit in man’s clothing…Yigak knew the feeling all too well.
“Yah, are you not going to bow to the Crown Prince?”
Yigak gasped as his eunach kicked out Kyungtak’s knees, sending him to the ground. It was hard not to see how he was shaking.
“It’s...it’s an honor to be able to service you, y-your highness.”
Satisfied, the eunach smirked and left the two of them.
Yigak knew by now that they weren’t truly alone, the palace had eyes everywhere, but he didn’t care and crouched in front of Kyungtak and carefully tilted his head up.
“You don’t ever have to be afraid of me, okay? Please don’t be afraid of me.”
Kyungtak stayed silent, dark eyes staring, calculating, wary of Yigak’s words. Sighing, the prince stood up, brushing the dirt of his hanbok and holding a hand out for Kyungtak.
“Let’s get you washed and cleaned up. You’re a royal guard now, the Crown Prince’s at that,” He commented a little sarcastically. “You should at least look the part.”
Eventually, Kyungtak reached up and grasped his hand, pulling himself up. “Yes, Your Highness.” he mumbled, scratching the side of his arm.
“Call me Yigak.”
It took awhile for them to get comfortable with each other...but time was the only thing they had.
“Kyungtakie~” Yigak smiled at his guard- no. His best friend as he walked into the room. “Just as I was getting bored. Are you hungry? Should I get us a snack or a drink?”
After many years of experience with the Crown Prince, Kyungtak sat in his normal corner, where he could keep an eye on the door and Yigak at the same time, and rolled his eyes. “No thank you, Your Highness.”
“Kyungtak, how many times do I have to tell you, call me-”
“Your Highness,” Kyungtak stressed, purposely nodding his head toward the door.
The palace always had eyes and ears everywhere, but with the news of the King’s illness, things were beginning to get tense. Kyungtak barely slept, keeping a close watch over Yigak, dozing off here and there when his body finally gave up on him.
Knowing that they were being watched, the Crown Prince sighed. “I guess a walk in the moonlight is out of the question too.”
“Yes, My Prince.”
Bored, Yigak leaned back and watched Kyungtak struggle with his hair. It’d grow long over the years, but it no longer hid his handsome face.
He still remembered how shocked he was on that first day, after Kyungtak was all cleaned up and dressed in clothes that fit him. Yigak told him that his face was prettier than any of the court ladies. The glare he’d gotten in return haunted his dreams for a year.
The tie Kyungtak was trying to use was obviously too old and worn to hold his hair. After a few minutes of struggle, it was Yigak who rolled his eyes.
“Come here, Kyungtak.”
Unable to resist a command by the Crown Prince, Kyungtak moved until he was next to the prince, his long hair spilling over his shoulders and covering his face.
“Your hair hates your face so much.” Yigak stated with some amusement as he dug around the drawer in his desk. “Ah, here it is.” The leather strap was red, a few gold beads tied to the ends.
“Your Highness, I don’t think I should-”
“Turn around, Kyungtak.”
He smiled at the war of emotions on Kyungtak’s face, laughing when he let out a small huff and finally turned around. When he was younger, the Queen would sometimes do Yigak’s hair before that became the job of the other servants. Still, he thought of his late mother as he gently pulled back Kyungtak’s hair, securing it in the half ponytail the guard seemed to be fond of.
The tie stood out against his black hair, but that was the point. Kyungtak was his guard, his friend. Even when Yigak took the throne, it would still be the same way. If no one in the palace knew that, now they would.
“You know, the scriptures say that there’s a red string of fate that ties two people together.” Yigak commented, words tumbling out of his mouth without much thought. “Perhaps that’s what brought us together, Kyungtakie~ Mm?”
“Only I would have such an unlucky fate to be stuck with you for life, Your Highness.”
He was about to yell, but Kyungtak had turned his head and was grinning at him. Yigak tackled him regardless, the both of them laughing until a chambermaid knocked on the door to see if everything was okay.
It wasn’t until later, after the chambermaids had dressed the Crown Prince for bed and all the candles were blown out, that Kyungtak really responded to his question.
“Red string or not, I’m forever grateful to have met and served you, Yigak. And I would do the same thing over and over again in any life I lived.”
Kim Jaejoong didn’t believe in fate. He believed in hard work and perseverance but- There had to be something in play the day he met Park Yoochun, the scrawny awkward kid from the USA.
His Korean was awkward and he couldn’t even dance, but the moment he opened his mouth or touched the piano- it was clear that he belonged.
Now, more than ten years down the road, Jaejoong still felt the same way.
Surrounded by a red ocean, protected and warmed by the hands clutching his, Jaejoong felt like he could fly forever.
But it wasn’t possible without Yoochun.
Stripped down of everything that made them gods, everything that made them untouchable, stripped of make up and clothes and images and standards- Yoochun was still amazing to him.
And Yoochun was, for some reason, amazed by him.
Whenever…Wherever they were together, Yoochun felt a little like home.
And a lot like love.
WHEW. So this started out as me wanting to write a bunch of drama AUs (thanks to that lovely gifset) and then turned into this monster. I picked the number 10 because of their anniversary but man, it was a little hard to think of some random AUs or lifetimes after writing 8, haha. But for those that don't know or understand the AUs (whether it be the names or the time periods, but some are very different), I'll break them down for you!
1. Yigak (Yoochun's Rooftop Prince character) and Kyungtak (Jae's Dr. Jin character), Joseon Dynasty
2. Sunjoon (Yoochun's Sunkyunkwan Scandal character) and Jaejun (originally was using it since it was Jae's birth name, but also the name of his character from Heaven's Postman), later Joseon Dynasty
3. Micky (Yoochun's English name) and Jay/JJ (nicknames of Jaejoong that have been thrown around by various sources), 1920s New York City
4. Han Jungwoo (Yoochun's character in Missing You) and the Postman (Was going to name him Jaejun, since that was his HP name buuuut already used it so lol), early 2000s, Seoul.
5. Yoochun and Jaye (French name that means blue jay. Almost named him Julien for kicks, but Jaye made more sense) late 1990s, Paris.
* I currently just took up French again, so excuse any serious mistakes x_x I tried to make it as convincing and clear as I could hahaha. But for Yoochun's letter it read "I'm terribly sorry. I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you."
6. Han Taekyung (Yoochun's character from Three Days) and The Killer (Jae from his amazing Elle magazine shoot/short film), present day, Tokyo.
7. Park Yoochun and Kim Jaejoong (Just to throw their real names in another universe lol), 1980s, Seoul
8. Muwon (Jaejoong's character from Protect The Boss) and Blind man (part lazy, part Muwon's bad timing for not giving him a chance to get his name), 2000s, Hawaii
9. Taeyong (Yoochun's OTHER character in Rooftop Prince) and Seonsu (Jaejoong's character from his Japanese drama Sunao ni Narenakute/Hard To Say I Love You), early 1990's, Seoul (thank you December for that inspiration, haha)
10. Yoochun and Jaejoong, present day, real life, right now ♥
If you guys have any other questions about any of them, just leave a comment~
I really haven't been able to write this fast in a long time so...I'm happy to be posting so much again, haha ♥