“Ow,” he cried, rubbing at his arms.  It felt like he had a million bug bites all over them.  His stomach and back, too.  In fact… Sehun pulled up his shirt.

The eight-year-old screamed bloody murder on his way down the stairs.

In the kitchen, his mother took one look at him and sighed.

“I’m calling the principal.  Go back to bed, Sehun.”

“Huh?”

“You have the chicken pox, honey.”

“Chicken pox?” Dread filled Sehun’s stomach.  Sulli had the chicken pox last month, and Sehun hadn’t seen her for two weeks.  Half the class thought she’d died. “But…what about the movie? I was supposed to watch Exo-venture with Kai and Taemin and Sulli and Krystal today! Remember?”

“I’m sorry...come on, let's go upstairs?"

Sehun’s bottom lip trembled. “B-but I’ve been waiting FOREVER for the movie...”

“How about I take you, when you’re all better?” His mother patted his head, and stood up.  “I’m going to call your teacher.”

 “But I wanted to go with Kai! I promised him!” Sehun cried.  “Mom, it’s not fair!”

“I know, Sehun, but Kai will understand. I’ll call Mrs. Kim. Come on, up to bed you go.”

Sehun had to be practically dragged back up to his room.  He cried himself to sleep.

When he woke, a few hours later, he felt a hand gently his sweaty hair.  It felt nice.  With an effort, Sehun pulled open his sticky eyes.

“…Luhan?”

The older boy straightened, clearing his throat.  The hand disappeared.

“Hey, Thehun.  Mom had to go to work.  How are you feeling?”

“Don’t call me that!” Sehun stared at Luhan.  He hadn’t seen his brother in his room in a long time.  Well, to be fair, Luhan had started ignoring him ever since he entered high school, but it had gotten worse the last couple weeks.  Luhan didn’t leave his rooms for hours sometimes, and when he did it was only to get food from the kitchen or get into another fight with Mom.

Not that Sehun cared. In two weeks, Luhan would be leaving somewhere, to a special school or something.  For the past two weeks the suitcase sitting outside Luhan’s room had been gradually filling up. Speaking of school... 

“Don’t you have school today?” Sehun asked suspiciously.

“No… Hey, don’t scratch.  You don’t want to look even uglier when you’re older, do you?”

“I don’t care!” Sehun yelled, frustrated. He wanted to cry. He was sweaty and itchy, his entire body felt like there were ants crawling all over it, he was missing the movie that all his friends had been talking about for the past week, and Luhan was being mean to him. “I want to die!”

“Don’t say that.”

“I DO! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!”

 Luhan was unsympathetic. “It’s just a movie, geez.  You can just bootleg it off some Chinese site.”

“Huh?”

“Besides, what even is “Exo: Big Boys”?  Sound like a bad por—uhm, I mean, sounds lame.”

“It’s a fighting movie,” Sehun explained, sniffling.  “It’s from the cartoon…you know, Exo?  But they made a movie out of it! Kai and Taemin and Sulli and Krystal are all going, and I was supposed to go but Mom won’t let me!  Everyone’s going to talk about it, and I’ll be all left out…”

Luhan glanced at Sehun’s tearful face and sighed.  “Well, how about this? I have a better story.”

“Better than Exo?” Sehun asked incredulously.  “Does it have fighting in it?”

“Tons”

“Adventure?”

“Definitely.”

“Scary bad guys?”

“…sure.”

“Top secret stuff?”

“If you want.”

 “No kissing?”

“…not too much.”

“A happy ending?”

“Of course.”

Intrigued, Sehun looked up.  “Where is it?”

“Sit up, and I’ll tell you.”

A Story with Fighting and Adventure and Secrets and Revenge and Scary Bad Guys and a Happy Ending and Not That Much Kissing

If you wanted to find the most perfect guy in all of Won Land, you need not look further than the Kim Mansion, located at 100 Golden Boulevard.  Mr. Kim was CEO of Kim Ko Co., the largest electronics supplier in Won Land. He was a merciless and sharp business, but he was also a family man at heart.  The lovely Mrs. Kim was a fashion designer and a great beauty; her face and her gowns appeared regularly on magazines. 

Suho Kim, their only child, was born with a silver spoon in his little mouth.  As he grew up, nothing was denied from him.  But let it not be said that Suho was a vapid rich boy—he had plenty of hobbies, from collecting postcards to jump-rope, to teaching his poodle Byul algebra. His favorite pastime, though, was making sure that the poolboy did his job.

Who was the poolboy, you ask?  Well, his name was Kris…except Suho only ever called him Poolboy.  The first time Suho had met him, he had been thirteen and Kris a year older. 

“Suho,” said his father.  “This is our new poolboy, Kris. He’ll also be doing a bit of gardening, or whatever yardwork he can find.  You’ll be seeing him around the house, after school.”

“That’s nice,” said Suho, not looking up from his homework.  “Poolboy, can you take Byul on a walk? Make sure you bring an umbrella so he doesn’t get tanned.  Thanks.”

Poolboy had hair like sunlight, brooding eyebrows, and a rare smile that would reveal his gums and teeth.  He was also tall for his age, which was the cause for several accidents and broken plates. Over time, though, he came to resemble less of a giraffe, as strenuous yard work added muscle onto his frame.  As the years passed, girls began lingering by the Kim Mansion so that they could catch a glimpse of a shirtless Kris, sweat running down his back as he mowed the lawn or raked leaves.

But Suho didn’t notice all that.  All he knew was that Poolboy was weird, whiny, and fun to boss around.

“Poolboy!” Suho called, pulling down his Dior sunglasses to raise an eyebrow.  “I’m thirsty!  Get me some sparkling water!”

Poolboy huffed, throwing down his rake as he glared at Suho, who was rocking back and forth on the swing in the yard.  “This is not my style,” he grumbled.  Still, he went back into the house to prepare Suho’s drink.

“Poolboy, there isn’t enough ice in here. Go back and add some more.”

“Ugh, fine. But this is not my style.”

“Poolboy, fan me. I’m hot.”

“…seriously?”

“I’m waiting.”

“…This is so not my style.”

And so the days passed in this manner.  Suho would demand that Poolboy prepare organic meals for Byul, shine his shoes, buy him shampoo from the drugstore in the center of town--basically, anything he was too busy to do himself.  And Kris would always scowl or glare or furrow his eyebrows and complain that it wasn’t his style…but he’d still do it.

If, during a sunny day, Suho liked to do his homework while stretched out on a lawn chair right by the pool where Kris was working, well, he just wanted to get his daily dosage of Vitamin D.

And if Suho’s eyes strayed a little too often in Kris’ direction…he just wanted to make sure that Poolboy was doing his job properly.  He couldn’t have his father wasting his money on slackers, after all.

One day, Suho happened to look up from his homework just as one of the girls that liked to come by and spy on the mansion threw a letter into the pile of leaves Kris had raked up.  The girl giggled and blew a kiss toward a confused Kris.

Suho frowned.  First of all, that bitc—uh, girl—was trespassing!  Second of all, something wasn’t right.  If anyone were to throw letters, they should be for him!  He was beautiful AND smart AND rich, after all.

“Poolboy!” Suho snapped immediately.  “Come here!”

Sighing, Kris pocketed the letter and came over. The girl scurried away. “What is it now, Suho?”

“Give me that letter.”

“Huh?”

Suho ripped the letter up into tiny shreds, scowling as he did so.  When he’d finished, he looked up to see Kris hiding a smile.  “What?”  Suho snapped, feeling his face flush.  “Poolboy, go…uh…make me some pasta.  I’m hungry.”

“Not my style,” Kris shot back automatically, but he didn’t sound too bothered this time.

“Poolboy, there’s a leaf in my hair,” Suho called without lifting his eyes from his book.

Silence.  Normally, Kris would respond with a grumpy retort, but things had been increasingly weird lately.  Kris tripped a lot (more than usual) around him, and Suho found himself getting nervous whenever Kris came within a 3-foot radius.  Maybe it was just the summer heat.

“Where?” Kris asked, his voice suddenly close, breaking through Suho’s thoughts.  Suho jumped and twisted around to face Kris.

“Um…poolboy, I…” Suho gulped as he realized Kris was a lot closer than he’d expected. His eyes flickered to the sunlight glistening off Poolboy’s abs.  Poolboy drew closer.  “I…uh…”  He felt his heartbeat quicken and his face flush.  What was wrong with him?  Suho wondered whether he was coming down with a fever.  

“You know, this isn’t really my style,” Poolboy whispered.  “But…” slowly, he picked an errant leaf out of Suho’s dark hair before handing it to the wide-eyed boy.  “Here.”

Swallowing, Suho accepted the leaf.  He could feel Kris’ fingers—calloused from everyday yardwork—brush against his own. 

“U-um, Poolboy, I-” Suho’s voice trailed off into a squeak as Kris threaded his fingers through Suho’s.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

Kris leaned in.

That afternoon, Suho realized: whenever Kris said “this is not my style,” what he meant was…

I love you.

“Huh?  That makes ZERO sense.”

Luhan rolled his eyes.  “It’s called subtext.”

 “I don’t know what that word means.  Also, I wanted to hear a fighting story, not a kissing story! You tricked me!”

“I told you, there’s fighting.  It’s coming.  Just be patient.  And eat your lunch.”

“I want my iPad back,” Sehun whined as he took a sulky gulp of chicken soup.  Ignoring him, Luhan continued.

Suho was silent, but Kris could hear him breathing loudly, a sign of an imminent tantrum.

“I…it’s something I have to do, Suho.”

Suho’s hands balled up into fists.  “I don’t understand.  Are you unhappy here? My parents’ employees always have a 100% satisfaction rate!”

Kris shook his head.  “It’s not that.”

“I…well, ok...”  Suho had that look on his face, the one he got when he was trying to figure out a particularly hard math problem.  “Is it the work?  I can tell my dad to raise your pay, if you want.  Or is it…me?  I know I haven’t had a lot of experience in dating, but I can learn!  I…”

“It’s not you,” Kris interrupted firmly.  “Suho, you’re perfect.”

They exchanged sappy smiles.  Then Suho frowned.

“So why?”

Kris looked pained, anticipating Suho’s reaction to his next words.  “I…can’t tell you.”

“What?  Poolboy!  I order you to—”

“Suho.” Kris placed his hands on Suho’s shoulders.  “I’ll tell you my reasons, once I return.  I just have to take care of a small thing.”

“And how long will this…thing…take?”

Kris shrugged.  “Not too long, I hope. A few weeks.”

“It’s not another guy, right?  You’re not ditching me for a super-buff, tanned, Italian guy who wears leather jackets?”

Kris blinked, wondering if this had to do with the romance novel he’d found hidden under the sofa a few days ago.  “Uh. No.”

“Oh.  Ok,” said Suho in a small voice. 

“Anyway, Suho, I promise I’ll tell you everything when I get back.  Just please trust me on this.”

“I do,” Suho sniffled.  “I trust you with my life.  And my heart.”

Kris gazed down at his boyfriend.  Even with tears running down his cheeks, he was beautiful.  He wished he could kiss away all of Suho’s doubts and fears.  Since he’d first set eyes on Suho, all he wanted was for Suho to always smile that bright smile.

Soon, Kris told himself.  Soon, he would be able to make Suho happy.

“Suho.  Listen to me.”  Kris grabbed Suho by the shoulders, forcing the younger man to look into his eyes.  “This is very important.  What we have is true love, so I’ll always come back for you, no matter how impossible it seems.  Okay?”

Suho laughed nervously.  “You say that like something bad’s going to happen to you.”

Suho was usually an optimistic boy, but couldn’t quell the growing darkness in his heart.  With every passing day, he could feel Kris growing farther from him.  He tried to distract himself by teaching Byul calculus.  He took up knitting, crocheting, and embroidery.  If Kris returned, he would be looking forward to a whole new collection of lumpy but lovingly made scarves. 

Meanwhile, Kris sent Suho letters with no return address.  They were pretty sappy, with lots of “I love you”s and not very child appropriate poems that made Suho blush as he read them late at night.  Suho clung onto the letters, rereading them in hopes of deciphering any sort of clue about Kris’ whereabouts from his chickenscratch.  They were always signed, You’re just my style.

Then, the letters went from a constant stream to a trickle, and grew more and more sparse, until one day, they stopped altogether.  Every day, Suho would greet the letter-delivery boy with hopeful eyes, only to receive a regretful shake of the head in response.

Suho spent his eighteenth birthday without Kris, at a dinner party being eyed up and down by gold-digging families—Suho’s wealth and beauty were no joke.  His parents began hinting at marriage.  Their words were like white noise to Suho, who kept his eyes firmly trained on the western horizon as though he could materialize Kris out of the ocean.  One day, his Kris would come back to him, and they would get married in the chapel his mother had gotten married in.

Then the news came. 

There had been a railroad accident in Yuan land.  A train had exploded, and all the passengers killed in the impact.  The passengers’ next-of-kins had been contacted.  However, the police could find no background information on “Ace M,” who occupied seat 16A.  His picture circulated in the newspapers—“Do you know this man?” 

Suho, who had kept tabs on all the events in Yuan land since Kris left, fainted when he saw the picture. 

Suho’s mourning had gone on for three months when his parents decided that enough was enough.

“I know he’s your childhood sweetheart, dear, but you’ve got to move on.”

“Your mother’s right.  It's time that you came back to the real world. We’ve found someone far more suitable…”

“He’s very handsome…”

“…a very capable young fellow…his father is one of our biggest trading partners…”

“And smart…”

“…I know you’ll make the right decision, for our family…”

“…Suho?” Mrs. Kim stared anxiously at her son.  “Say something, honey.”

“Whatever,” Suho muttered, staring dejectedly into space as he Byul.  “My heart is a barren wasteland anyway, now that my Kris is gone.”

He said the same thing the next week, sitting in the parlor facing his fiancé and future father-in-law.

“Ignore him,” said Mr. Kim.  “Teenagers, you know.  They can be so melodramatic.”

The other Mr. Kim (not related, by the way) nodded in understanding.  “I know what you mean.”

That’s the thing with adults.  They ALWAYS think they know what’s best for you, without even bothering to listen or try to understand you…and if they don’t understand you, they just try to SHIP YOU OFF SOMEWHERE SO THEY CAN PRETEND YOU DON’T EXIST... where was I again?  Oh, right.

“So what do you think, son?” the other Mr. Kim asked as they sped off in their private limousine.  “Perfect match, right?”

“Um,” said Xiumin nervously.  “I’m not so sure about this…”

“What! Why not?”

“Maybe we should get to know each other first…”

“Nonsense!  Are the Kims not our best trading partners?”

“Well-“

“Isn’t Suho Kim beautiful?”

“Yes, but—“

“Then what’s the problem?”

“…Iwanttofindtruelove,” Xiumin muttered to the leather seat.

“What’s that? Speak up.”

“Nothing,” Xiumin sighed.  He knew his father wouldn’t understand.  True love had no place in a world of money and appearances.

“I’m sorry.  I know this is all really rushed, and I’m not expecting you to fall in love with me or anything…but I hope we can be friends, at least.”

Silence.

“So, um. I heard you liked reading.  What’s your favorite book?”

No response.

“I like The Princess Bride.  Have you heard of it?”

Suho gave only a slight twitch.

Xiumin sighed. 

The Kim-Kim wedding was announced with much fanfare.  Newspaper headlines were splashed with the upcoming wedding of the decade. The heir of the #1 electronics company and the heir of the #1 software company in Won land—it was a match made in stock market heaven.  Reporters fought to get onto the exclusive guestlist for the wedding.

As wedding preparations began, Suho wilted away.  His once rosy complexion faded.  His round cheeks hollowed out.  His eye smile disappeared and dark circles appeared underneath his eyes.  Xiumin tried to take his fiancé out on picnic and movie dates, but Suho always declined with a polite “I’m tired.”

The night before the wedding—

“Wait!”

Luhan stopped, hiding a smile.  “What is it?” For the past half hour, Sehun had been growing more and more agitated, until he could no longer take it.

“What’s going on?  I don’t understand.  Where’s Kris?  Who is this stupid Xiumin guy? They don’t get married, right?  RIGHT?”

“I thought you didn’t care about the love story, Sehun?”

“I don’t!  But…” Sehun looked at a loss.  “But still!  I thought Suho promised Kris!”

 “Hm…” Luhan put a hand to Sehun’s forehead.  “You seem a little flushed, Sehun.   Maybe we should check your temperature.”

“W-wait, no!”  Sehun swatted his brother’s arms away.  “Come on, Luhan!  Tell me!  They can’t get married, it’s not allowed!”

“Luhan!” Mrs. Oh’s voice called from downstairs. “Are you ready to go?”  Instantly, Luhan’s smile disappeared and his face shuttered. 

“I have to go.”

“Wha—“

“Get some rest, Sehunnie.”

Sehun was so agitated that he didn’t notice the familiar nickname.  He grabbed Luhan’s shirt.  “No!! Come on, Luhan!  You HAVE to tell me!”

“Nope.  Not until tomorrow, and only if you promise to take all your medicine and not to scratch yourself.”  Luhan stood up, pushing away Sehun’s desperate hands. “Be a good little boy, now.”