here's the first chapter that's more like a prologue than anything else.

what this chapter contains:

enjoy x

Seoul Military Airbase, 1700 HRS.

“Hyukjae-ssi, his team is due to arrive in 5 minutes. Are you sure you want to wait here?” Hyukjae’s bodyguard asks, his eyes flitting uneasily between the group of reporters and Hyukjae. Hyukjae, who’s dressed up in an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, who’s leaning against the back of the seat with his eyes closed, and who’s definitely not picture-ready should he decides to step out of the car on impulse.

Leeteuk waits on a response that he does not get and already knows the answer. Sighing, he glances towards the boy seated next to him and gives in as he says, “Okay, but no rash moves, please?”

Hyukjae frowns a little and turns to look at Leeteuk. “What do you mean ‘no rash moves’? I haven’t seen him in 3 months, of course I’m not just going to sit in the car and wait for him to come over. I have legs for a reason, hyung,” he snaps.

“I know you miss him, sir, but when you sent him off 3 months back a few reporters took photographs that have you guys caught in a lip lock. The election season is coming up in half a year, sir, your father cannot afford bad press at a time like this,” Leeteuk says with as much patience as he can muster. Sometimes Hyukjae was difficult to get to, especially when the situation involved Donghae.

The ing election again, Hyukjae thinks, when did I ever ask to be the President’s son anyway?

But Hyukjae keeps his distasteful comments to himself and only let slip an eyeroll. He knows from experience that arguing with Leeteuk over this will have no favourable results. And he knows he’s difficult; Leeteuk honestly isn’t paid enough to deal with his crap on bad days, so he tries very hard to give Leeteuk a grin and lighten the mood by saying, “So the photos… You guys bought them, right? Can I have them?”

He knows he’s succeeded when Leeteuk’s eyebrow quirks and he fights a smile by fixing his tie.

“No need to be so uptight, hyung, I’ve seen you-“

Hyukjae stops midway his sentence when he hears the familiar rumbling of helicopter blades. He turns his attention towards the Boeing CH-47 Chinook that has landed on the helipad maybe one kilometre away. He feels his heart surge in his chest as the door opens to reveal a group of military uniform-clad men, and he sees him, he sees him, because there is nowhere in the world he wouldn’t recognise him, even if he’s dressed like everyone else and there are approximately 8 men who could be him.

“Sir,” Leeteuk mutters, grabbing onto Hyukjae’s arm when he realises the boy already has his hand on the car door handle.

“I promise no kisses,” Hyukjae says and shrugs out of Leeteuk’s grip. He unlocks the door and steps out.

The reporters let out an audible gasp as they struggle to make a decision between filming the soldiers who have just returned from a mission, and the President’s son who has made a surprise visit that no one was expecting. In the passenger’s seat, the President’s PR manager sighs and pulls out her phone to make a few phone calls as she watches Hyukjae stalk towards the helicopter.

--

Hyukjae fists his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie and he stops in his path a few metres away as he watches the group of soldiers give thanks to the reporters for coming. They tell the reporters what they are here for and what they want to hear – that the 15th battalion of Flying Tigers has successfully completed their mission in the Middle East and will resume training come next month. Their captain gathers the boys together for a final debrief as the reporters scramble to take photos after photos of their brave and heroic soldiers.

For the first time since he can remember, Hyukjae isn’t the centre of the attention and he ing loves it. It makes things