Running to You | Park Han + JL + Steven | Haneulz + Stejay AU

Chapter 51: What Happens in Shanghai

The sponsorship week had passed by in a blur. JL felt an unexplainable ache in his chest to see the Shanghai skyline diminish behind him earlier that evening, as they boarded the cab to take them to the airport. Everything that happened in Shanghai felt like something out of a dream, one he didn't fully understand if he wanted to remember when he woke up. 

They were back in Korea.

The team had crashed back into their dorms sometime past midnight, and when JL came over for breakfast, it was the harshest reality check of all.

Because while Shuaibo had always been a mess -- forever breaking the washing machine, never putting away his shoes, coffee stirred with whatever object was closest (pen cap, chopstick, ballpoint pen) -- he'd at least been a wealthy mess.

But in Korea, Shuaibo wasn't royalty anymore.

In Korea, Shuaibo was broke.

Cut off from the Zhang family's inheritance the moment he refused to return to Shanghai. "A disappointment to the dynasty," they'd said. "A waste of talent and bloodline." His accounts were frozen. The chauffeur gone. The silk robe, packed away. And his "student card" was now an actual student card.

Woongki stared at Shuaibo. "Is that a coffee stirrer from McDonald's?"

Across the table, Shuaibo looked blearily at him from beneath a mountain of blankets. He was curled in a hoodie two sizes too big, hair shoved into a limp half-bun, and holding a cracked Tupperware full of cereal, M&Ms, sugar cubes and... something that might've been oat milk. His pajamas were green, with little dancing frogs.

"It stirs. What else do you want from me," Shuaibo mumbled.

Juwon appeared behind him and gasped, dramatic. "Who is this man? Where is Zhang Shuaibo, Prince of Pudong? What have you done with him?"

Jeongwoo, trying not to laugh, gently added, "You had a driver in gloves two days ago. And now you're eating something questionable out of a storage container."

"I'm still me," Shuaibo said from under the pillow now firmly pressed over his head. "You should love me for who I am."

"We do," Woongki said, squinting as he dramatically leaned across the table. "But we also loved the massages. And the dumplings. And the limousine, Zhang."

Kyungho walked in, paused at the doorway, then said, smiling, "I mean, this is the real Shuaibo. That guy in China must have been a figment of our collective imagination."

Even Chih En, sipping black coffee like a villainous heir in a drama, said in his soft Mandarin, "Pathetic."

"Shut up," Shuaibo said from under the blanket. "I gave you first pick of the spa menu."

Steven dropped into a chair with a grin, peeling a banana. "I'm just glad someone took photos. Because no one's going to believe our China trip when they see this gremlin in flannel pajama pants."

Shuaibo, clutching his pillow, let out a long, muffled grunt. "I hate all of you. And I need more oat milk."

"You need to rejoin your dynasty so we can stop seeing your depressed face around the table," Han muttered, already halfway through his toast.

JL, hiding a grin, leaned back in his chair and nudged Woongki. "Should we check his wallet?"

Woongki snorted. "What wallet? This man's net worth dropped the moment we hit Incheon."

The table howled.

But then Jeongwoo sobered slightly, setting down his spoon. "Hey. Seriously though."

The room quieted.

"You're one of us, Shuaibo," Jeongwoo said. "Even without the limo. Even with that concoction in your hands that might be a war crime."

Juwon added, gentler now, "You picked us. Over all of it. That means something."

Steven nodded. "We wouldn't trade you for a palace."

"You're our prince," Kyungho added. "Still are. Just... poorer now."

A pause.

Then Woongki said, dramatically, "And more fashionable. Honestly, poverty suits you. This oversized hoodie aesthetic? Very brooding hero."

Then, quietly, from the corner of the kitchen, Chih En spoke.

"We love you no matter what, Shuaibo."

The room fell quiet.

Shuaibo blinked. Looked up.

And then -- 

In perfect unison, the team broke into exaggerated shouts like a mob of airport fans.

"WE LOVE YOU, SHUAIBO!"

"YOU'LL ALWAYS BE OUR PRINCE!"

"OUR BROKE LITTLE HEIR!"

"PRINCE OF TUPPERWARE!"

"GOD BLESS YOUR FROG PAJAMAS!"

Shuaibo dropped his head into his arms. "You guys suck."

But he was laughing.

JL was smiling, looking at the scene before him. 

Just a bunch of misfits in sweatpants and half-washed hair, surrounded by cereal crumbs and broken sleep, laughing like they were rich with something no dynasty could buy.

Family.