Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

​They were told never, under any circumstances, to interact with a human.

​Stories of the creatures known as "humans" were passed down through generations as a warning to stay far away from the surface. Humans were cruel beings who bathed in the blood of other races for the sole purpose of conquest. That was the bitter truth behind the merfolk's decimation one hundred years ago.

​The end of the Merfolk Hunts was a hard-won peace bought by the sacrifice of their kin. It was believed that some humans had helped them vanish, but mentions of those allies were few and far between. ​With time, the merfolk retreated from the world and became a forgotten myth.

But there was one merman who possessed an insatiable curiosity. He had a fascination for the world above the ocean that all started because of a shadow.

Jeongin could still remember the day he and his friends strayed too close to the surface. They were merlings, distracted by their game, when the midday sun was suddenly blotted out.

They all thought it was an eclipse of some kind, but as the shadow passed, they realized it was a human ship. It cut across the azure waters, and that glimpse of a forbidden world altered the trajectory of Jeongin’s life forever.

While his friends saw the ship as a bad omen, Jeongin saw only its majesty. They had all been indoctrinated to believe that humans were monsters, but Jeongin, being the epitome of optimism, clung to the hope that they weren't as evil as he’d been told.

He waited until his family was asleep before daring himself to swim upward, breaching the hazardous surface. His mind raced with every horror story he had ever heard, but as he drew a deep breath of the night air and felt no sting, the foundations of his fear began to crumble.

The ship that had ignited his curiosity was gone, but in its place, he found a tapestry of stars dancing overhead.

This was the beginning of Jeongin’s rebellion. He ventured out in secret, slipping away from the cradle of the reefs to marvel at the endless sky.

As he floated on his back in the vast, open water, he discovered the wonders of clouds. The way they remained intangible when he stretched a hand toward them whispered of infinite possibilities.

The surface became his personal retreat, starting in his merling years and stretching well into his mervite years, as his curiosity pulled him further into the unknown.

​During these escapades, a few ships occasionally cut across the horizon. Jeongin was always quick to slip beneath the waves to evade detection, but there came a point when he wondered where they came from. One day, he decided to follow one, and trailed its wooden hull from the safety of the deep.

He trailed the ship’s hull for the better part of the morning. The journey was a grueling endeavor, keeping pace with the lumbering vessel. It wrought a dull ache through Jeongin’s tail with every restrained, arching sweep, but he refused to falter.

​As he pushed through his fatigue, odd shapes began to materialize in the distance. His instincts screamed at him to turn around, but the lure of the unknown proved stronger.

Distracted by the strange silhouettes ahead, he failed to notice the encroaching darkness. It wasn't until the sun was almost entirely obscured that he realized more ships were congregating like a silent ambush.

​Fearing he was being cornered, Jeongin kicked his tail, propelling himself forward to break away from the hulls that threatened to consume him, and surged into a drowned forest of towering, barnacle-crusted beams. The area was cramped and congested, yet there was an odd sense of security within the shade.

​Fish wove through the pilings like silver ribbons, while a blue crab shuffled across the seafloor. A sea turtle glided by, dipping a flipper in silent acknowledgment of the merman’s presence before disappearing into the pillars.

​Life thrived here just inches beneath the world of men. The familiar presence of other sea residents helped to loosen the tension in Jeongin’s shoulders.

​The cracks in history were splintering with every new discovery. He began to wonder if the vessels that crossed his path were more than what they seemed. Perhaps they were physical manifestations of a spirit guide, sent to lead him toward the truth of the world.

The muffled shouts and thunder of boots on the platform above startled the fish, causing them to scatter in a silver blur. Jeongin felt his heart jump to his throat as the vibrations rippled through the water, reminding him that he was still in the territory of Giants.

​Feeling his hunger for adventure satisfied for now, Jeongin took the noise as his cue to retreat. As he turned back toward the open sea, he was already replaying the day’s discoveries and fantasizing about all the wonders he had only just begun to explore.

​In the months following his discovery of the seaport, Jeongin started playing a game of inches to see how close he could get before his instincts pulled him back. While he was mesmerized by a passing ship, a wall of coarse hempen mesh unspooled into the water like a falling curtain, intended for a school of mackerel.

​The net sent a jolt of terror through him. Like a startled fish, Jeongin kicked his tail and bolted for the depths to put as much distance as possible between himself and the surface.

Retreating to the vibrant heart of the shoal, he darted into his favorite nook among the swaying sea fans and curled himself into a tight ball. He tucked his tail beneath him, ignoring his mother’s worried questions, and waited for the terror of the nets to fade.

​The encounter was a sobering wake-up call that frightened him to his core, but it also taught him a vital lesson. For a long time afterward, he did not go near the surface, hiding instead in the colorful safety of the coral reefs. It took Jeongin developing from a mervite into a full-fledged mer for his trembling heart to settle.

​Eventually, he returned with a new perspective. While the coral reefs were safe, they couldn't provide the warmth of the sun or the simple joy of a fluffy, white cloud. He missed the sky and the way the air felt light in his lungs, but to truly embrace the surface again, he had to be brave enough to look it in the eye.

​Merely watching from beneath the waves kept him blind to the potential dangers lurking above. So, under the protective cover of night and from a careful distance, he gingerly lifted his head to observe the ships from above the water. Peering over the gentle swell of the waves, he half-expected to see the twisted visages of demons.

​Instead, the creatures on the deck were startlingly... ordinary. They possessed the same soft skin and expressive eyes as him, with the only glaring difference being their strange, dual-limbs. Their skin was rugged and bronze, weathered by a sun they lived under every day, but they didn't look like killers.

​They looked like him.

​The lingering chill of the fishing nets began to dissolve. The sailors' shouts of laughter echoed across the open water as they sang together in a way that was unrefined and chaotic, yet completely free. Their rough friendliness and shared warmth for one another tarnished the image of the vicious monsters his elders had described.

​Hearing the melody of their songs had Jeongin almost wanting to join them, but the threat of his own voice kept him silent.

​For the merfolk, song was a language of magic used to speak to the beasts of the sea and call to one another across the depths. Their melodies also held a subtle power to sway the mind. It was a gentle gift, typically reserved for mothers who sang hushed lullabies to soothe their restless merlings, though mers themselves were largely immune to the charm.

​However, this made Jeongin an anomaly. His mana was an overflowing resonance that he had been forced to master.

He hadn’t been trying to influence anyone, but without a specific emotional intent to guide the magic, his singing had once washed over his friends like a thick fog.

​He remembered watching in a confused panic as their laughter suddenly died. Their eyes glazed with a milky film and their limbs sagged at their sides as his song dragged them into a drunken stupor. The sight alone had given him nightmares for weeks.

​It had taken years of practice to bind a specific feeling to every note he sang. He had to master the precision required to keep his mana from bleeding out without purpose. Even now, he didn't dare let a single hum escape, for there was no way of knowing how a human mind would react to his unguided magic.

​More importantly, to sing was to be heard. He would not be the one to destroy a century of peace and lead the humans back to his people, all because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

What began as a strategic study of a supposed enemy had mellowed into something deeper. The hulls that once signaled danger now felt like old companions, and for the first time in his life, the world above felt like a place where he could belong.

​Late one evening, Jeongin slipped above the waves to feel the cool air against his damp skin. He watched with an amused smile as several men danced on the main deck of their ship, unaware of their audience.

​Among them was a man who moved with a grace that captivated Jeongin. He held the merman's entire focus like a perfectly aimed strike, until the rest of the world receded into a hazy backdrop.

​The man’s smile seemed to rival the stars. His laughter was so loud and infectious that Jeongin brought a hand to his own mouth to stifle a faint chuckle; the way his features smoothed in the soft glow left Jeongin hearing a quickened thump, thump, thump in his ears.

​Jeongin placed a hand over his chest to hush his rapidly beating heart, but as the man’s magnetic voice drifted out again, the invisible reins that tethered him snapped.

​Without lifting a finger, this human had captured a merman. It left Jeongin wondering, is this how the merfolk fell to mankind during the hunts?

​The wooden hull loomed over him like a sleeping beast as he drew closer. He reached out with a trembling hand, pressing his palms against the rough timber.

​He closed his eyes and tried to muster the courage to follow where his heart was pulling him.

Just a peek.

Steeling his nerves, Jeongin pulled himself up. It was a slow, strained effort, tensing his muscles as he fought the relentless drag of the current. He hauled himself higher, attempting a closer look through a narrow gap in the gunwale.

​The stomping of boots and the rambunctious shouts of the men turned the deck into a storm of energy. Jeongin reflexively squeezed his eyes shut, his gills tightening against the cacophony of a world that denied tranquility.

​When he dared to look again, his focus fell on the music itself.

One man strummed a hollow, wooden instrument that chimed with a metallic edge, while another blew into a slender silver pipe that emitted a sweet, soaring tune. A third sailor sat atop a wooden box, drumming a steady percussion that grounded the melody. Together, the sounds locked into a messy but beautiful collision of notes.

​Distracted by the music, Jeongin nearly missed the scratching of claws and the excited pants heading his way.

​"Kkami, get back here!"

​Jeongin dunked himself back into the inky depths just as a flurry of fur scrambled toward the edge to bark at the empty air where he had just been. From beneath the shivering surface, Jeongin watched with bated breath as a pair of leather boots came to a halt beside the land animal.

​The creature was suddenly scooped up by large hands. "Calm down. There’s nothing there." A finger reached out to carefully scratch under the animal's chin.

​The man leaned over the bulwark, peering down at the fading ripples. Finding nothing but the empty swell of the sea, he exhaled in exasperation and tucked the small dog securely under his arm. ​"You'll fall in if you keep scampering around like that. What's your plan then, Kkami? You gonna swim back?"

​The man spoke with mock sternness as he adjusted his grip to pull Kkami further away from the edge. Even as he lectured his pet on the dangers of the sea, his touch remained gentle.

​He leaned down to nuzzle into the dog’s fur, ignoring the creature's playful protest. When he turned back toward the lantern light, the glow caught the sharp line of his jaw and the warmth of his smile.

​It was him.

Jeongin heaved himself up once more after the man had disappeared, resting his cheek on his folded arms as he bobbed in the gentle swell. The crew mingled in their carefree jubilation, but his eyes were fixed on the beautiful man as if he were the only one there.

​From that night onward, the memory of him became a fixed star in Jeongin’s world.

As the ship sailed away, he followed at a distance until he saw a shape rise from the horizon. It was the same island Jeongin had stumbled upon as a younger, frightened mervite. He had only ever seen its roots beneath the waves, but seeing it now, in all its towering glory, changed everything.

​Knowing that the man lived within reach brought a comfort he couldn't explain. Their worlds were too far apart for anything to ever come of it, yet the simple hope of seeing that smile again gave Jeongin something to look forward to.

​When he found the ship that belonged to the beautiful man again, the jubilation from before was gone. In its place was a somber stillness that seemed to permeate the air.

​The man stood alone at the railing as the rest of the crew shuffled across the deck. Jeongin pressed himself against the hull to watch the man’s profile, and the complicated expression on his face tugged at his soul.

​"You alright?"

​A new figure emerged from the cabin to lean against the railing. Jeongin recognized him instantly as the drummer from the other night.

​The man spared his friend a brief glance before shrugging and returning his gaze to the horizon. "Not really."

​The simple admission seemed to strip away the drummer's forced composure. "I get it." His face turned grim, fixing his eyes to the sleek floorboards of the deck. "It's already happened twice. No one expects you to be okay after that."

​The man’s brave front faltered bit by bit as he caught his quivering lower lip between his teeth.

Jeongin’s heart ached to see the hurt in those eyes; it was a stark contrast to the radiant smile the merman had come to know him by.

​He didn’t understand why he cared for a stranger whose name he didn't even know. The pull was simply like a minnow's to a stray glimmer in the dark.

​The two humans began speaking of matters that flew over Jeongin’s head, but the image of the broken man was etched in his mind. He didn't know when their paths would cross again, but he desperately wanted to see that smile once more before returning to the reefs.

​Jeongin kicked off from the hull, his tail breaking the surface with a splash before he disappeared.

​The sky soon bled from a burning red to an all-encompassing blue. The ship grew quiet as the dimming lanterns plunged the deck into darkness.

​The man stood alone outside the cabin after everyone had turned in for the night. He pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing as a dull headache began to pulse behind his eyes.

​Just as he decided to retire, a sudden thud echoed against the wooden deck.

​His hand flew to his chest, his heart flinching at the noise. Squinting into the shadows, he searched for the source of the sound with his breath held tight.

​There, bathed in the pale moonlight, he found an intricately shaped, brightly colored conch shell. It sat like a jewel dripping on the floorboards.

​He picked it up, examining the intricate spirals and the pearlescent sheen, his brow furrowing in confusion.

How did such an exquisite thing land here? It seemed impossible on a night so quiet.

The strangeness of it all made him chuckle, a sound that was like a melody to the merman's ears. He carried the gift back to his cabin, his thumb tracing the smooth curves as he admired the lovely hues.

​Jeongin felt a sense of accomplishment. The man was smiling, even just a little.

​And that was enough.

​Jeongin found the ship again by the sound of music. A cheerful tune filled the air, yet as he swam closer, he noticed a less carefree atmosphere in the ship's energy than there had been before.

​The beautiful man was among the crew, but his movements were listless and his laughter absent. After a while, he slipped away from the merriment to be alone.

​Jeongin frowned as he watched him. Why does he want to escape from all the fun? Curious, he glided silently against the current to follow until they were both well away from all the noise.

In a space isolated from the rest of the ship, the man stood on a small aft-balcony, his elbows resting on the balustrade and his shoulders slumped with the weight of some inexplicable sorrow. Jeongin found a spot for himself on the ship's rudder, perching just below the balcony.

​There was an unspoken tension in the air that smothered the faint music from the deck. Jeongin pulled on his ear, nerves knotting in his chest. He wanted to lift the mood somehow, but the seashell had already been a risky maneuver. Searching for another would only diminish its value. It would look less like a happy accident of nature, and more like a pattern.

​He just wanted to put the man's mind at ease, yet there was only one thing he could think to do. But it would be a substantial risk. Not only would it give away his presence, he had no idea how a human would react to it.

​Jeongin shook his head, trying to erase the idea, but when he remembered the pain on the man's features, a small voice in the back of his mind urged him to try.

Maybe it could be passed off as an echo in the wind. Or maybe, if he was discovered, it wouldn't be such a travesty after all.

​A sudden spike of courage drowned out the anxieties of the aftermath. What mattered most was offering the man even just a nanosecond of peace.

​Jeongin drew a deep breath of the sea air and did the unthinkable.

​He started singing.

​

I'll give you a warm, big hug
Don't leave me
I won't forget your pretty smile
Please hug me, too
Please be with me
I'll make you have a sweet day every day.

​

​A gentle echo that rung like a delicate wind chime carried on the sea breeze.

​The man’s slumped shoulders straightened. His brow furrowed in deep confusion, and he looked around, completely baffled. Why would anyone be out here?

​What is that?

​There was a voice that sounded impossibly close, but he couldn’t see anyone else there!

Jeongin poured all of his pure feelings into the song. The magic that emanated from his voice seemed to wrap the human in an invisible blanket, easing his troubled mind.

​

I'll give you a hug, oh, baby
Please give me a hug, oh, baby.

​

​"What is this?" ​An incredulous huff escaped the man's lips as the song came to an end. He glanced back toward the main deck, assuming one of the crew was playing tricks. After all, what other explanation could there be?

Yet, he felt an unexplainable serenity settle in his mind. The dark cloud that had hovered over him for the past several weeks seemed to blow away in the wind that bore the song. Though the troubles that plagued him hadn't actually disappeared, they did feel smaller. They were no longer the center of his universe. At least, not for the moment.

​"Who's this song for? Why are the lyrics so cute?"

​Simply put, he didn't feel alone anymore. The song held a physical presence that felt, quite literally, as if his heart had been given a big hug.

​With this sudden peace reminding him of the people still waiting for him to return, the man pushed himself off the balustrade to rejoin his friends out on the main deck.

​Jeongin hid a triumphant grin behind his fist, his face warming with a blush he couldn't control. The fact that the man hadn’t pieced together the source only served as Jeongin's flawless victory. It was a perfect mistake that saved him the trouble of a confrontation.

​The air felt lighter. The comfort he had transmitted through the power of song had hit its target.

​And that was enough. That's what he had to keep telling himself.

Jeongin dove back into the sea to return home. His tail gave a flick like a secret only the night would ever know, before disappearing into the waves.

Goatfish abandoned their foraging to wedge themselves inside every nook and cranny. A sea turtle paddled in haste toward a deep-sea trench instead of flying across the blue as it usually did.

​These were the tell-tale signs of a storm approaching.

​Jeongin idly traced a finger over a fan of sea-lace.

I guess I won't be able to go today.

​Seeking out that specific hull had become a nightly ritual. Having to skip the evening rendezvous was disappointing, but also an unavoidable occurrence. He tried to soothe his lovesick heart by reasoning that the man wouldn't be there anyway. They were most likely back on the island right now. Humans were surely smart enough to avoid sailing when the sky turned angry.

​But then the doubt started to sink in.

​What if they didn't know? The signals provided by the sea were evident to him, but what if the signs up top weren't as obvious?

​The thought sat in his gut like a stone. He knew nothing of the methods humans used to detect oncoming storms. The sea always warned him before he reached the surface, so he had never experienced the sky's warnings for himself. Humans couldn't feel the shift in the currents or witness the frenzied panic of the fish, so how did they know?

​He swam in a tight, agitated loop as his thoughts began to spiral. Ships were big. Ships were strong. They were built to withstand the temper of the waves.

He told himself he was imagining unlikely scenarios. If he went up now, he’d only be entering a war zone he had no idea how to survive.

​But what if he is out there?

​"Should I just check?" He told himself the ship wouldn't be there, but a small voice in the back of his head kept asking, What if?

​He finally made up his mind. If he could just see with his own eyes that there was no ship being tossed about, then he could finally lay his worries to rest.

​Jeongin turned his nose toward the ceiling of the world and shot upward with a burst of speed. He wasn't concerned about anyone trying to stop him. After all, what mer would dare breach the surface during a storm?

​As he ascended, the weightlessness of the gentle sea transformed into a surging foe. The water turned into a frothing graveyard of bubbles and silt.

​A swell like a wall slammed into his side and sent him into a disorienting spin. Jeongin's tail lashed out, fighting for purchase in a current that had turned violent. Every muscle in his body burned as he forced himself upward, but the ocean seemed hell-bent on dragging him down.

​I have to know!

​He felt like a minnow caught in a whirlpool. The storm lunged at him with the fury of a leviathan.

​A desperate surge of strength sent him breaking through the surface. A wave immediately crashed down on him in a last-ditch effort, but Jeongin stubbornly fought against it, gasping for air as he broke through the foam.

​A maelstrom of howling wind and lashing rain transformed the once impenetrable vessel into a helpless toy. Its hull groaned under the assault of waves that crashed against the timber like angry fists.

​The sky had turned into a dark gray that engulfed the world in an overwhelming gloom. The infinite sky that once spoke of endless possibilities became a wrathful god who sought only destruction.

​Even through the spray, Joengin recognized that silhouette instantly.

It was his ship.

​All of his fears had proven true. Floating helplessly above the freezing foam, he felt like a tiny bystander to a disaster he had seen coming but couldn't stop.

​It hadn't been difficult to find him. The man moved with the calculated authority of an orca among small fish. His muscles tensed as he hauled on the lines of a tattered sail.

He was a pillar of fortitude in the mouth of the beast.

​Even as the world screamed around them, Jeongin found himself falling in love all over again as the "orca" displayed an unmatched, athletic grace against the gale.

​Then, a crewman appeared to stumble. His boots skidded on the slick deck, sending him sliding toward the edge and the hungry depths.

​The orca's attention snapped. Without a hint of hesitation, he barked a command to another crew member and lunged.

With incredible, selfless strength, he caught the fumbling crewman by the arm just as the ocean reached for him, wrenching him back to plant him firmly to the deck.

​Jeongin’s fear gave way to a sea of relief. His beloved was so much more than a mere orca; he was invincible and bore the makings of a king.

​But that relief was soon revealed to be a lie.

​Lightning bleached the world white, illuminating the betrayal in agonizing detail. With a malicious force, the crewman his beloved had just risked his life to save shoved his savior into the hungry mouth of the sea.

​Jeongin watched in horror as his beloved was forcefully thrust into the raging waters.

​The storm provided the perfect cover for attempted murder. The winds consumed his cry of alarm, and the world seemed to distort into a terrifying slow-motion.

This was Jeongin's first exposure to the sick cruelty of man, and the bitter taste of bile rose in his throat.

​He lashed his tail through the tumultuous waves, diving for the sinking figure. He pushed through the crushing currents, reaching out with a desperation that numbed him to the piercing cold.

​The strong commander looked impossibly fragile here, his fine clothes billowing like the fins of a dying fish. There was something almost hauntingly beautiful in the way he descended into the depths without a struggle.

​Jeongin’s fingers brushed against the man’s cold skin before locking around his hand. With every ounce of strength he had, Jeongin wrenched the unconscious body toward him and wrapped a protective arm around the man’s waist.

​As they ascended, a dark impulse flared in his chest. His selfish heart began screaming at him to keep the man for his own. This is my chance!

​They could finally be together. He could take him away from all the brutality, all the sadness. The silent yearning of his heart would be brought to fruition at last!

​But reality was quick to stamp out those dangerous thoughts. A human wouldn't last in the ocean, and the love he felt for this man screamed for his survival over his own desires.

​He broke the surface with his beloved in tow and turned his back on the ship, his only priority being to the one held securely in his arms.

With a renewed vigor, Jeongin swam toward the distant shore.

​Dawn was breaking when Jeongin reached the secluded cove.

​The journey had been arduous. He had spent the night wrestling receding currents while hauling the weight of a grown man. It would have been easier if he could have dived, but the whole point of this endeavor was to save the human in his arms. Drowning him would have completely defeated the purpose of the struggle.

​His muscles ached with every stroke as he skirted the coastline. He searched for a place to land, briefly remembering the main docks he had seen as a young mervite, but quickly rejected the idea. That place was far too public. He needed an isolated shore where he wouldn't be seen.

​He soon found it. After what felt like an eternity of circling the island, a small crescent of sand came into view, shielded from the world by a fortress of granite boulders.

​Perfect.

​With the last of his strength, Jeongin ungracefully heaved the man out of the surf and onto the sand with a wet splat. Jeongin dragged his own weary body from the ocean before collapsing on his back.

​His skin was slick with salt, and his muscles were spasming from the exhaustion of the long night. He took a long minute just to catch his breath before suddenly scrambling over to the man’s side to press an ear against his chest.

​A steady thump-thump sounded in his ear, and Jeongin let out a choked cry of relief. ​He's alive! He's okay!

​Knowing the man would be alright alleviated the taut feeling in his stomach. He moved back just enough to sit beside him, hugging his tail to his chest as he contemplated his next move.

​Now what? He didn’t want to leave him alone. What if he didn’t wake up soon? What if he needed help that Jeongin couldn't provide? His eyes raked over the man’s body, and the growing pull of intrigue finally became too strong to ignore.

​He used his hands to crawl forward until he was hovering over the stranger. Jeongin settled his weight and leaned over the man to gently hold his face. It was a bold move, but he felt emboldened since his "orca" was still unconscious.

​He blew softly against the man's face, the wet strands of dark hair parting to fully reveal his handsome features. When the man’s lashes fluttered but failed to open, Jeongin let out a soft giggle. He allowed himself to wistfully indulge in the moment. Being this close to him felt like a dream he never wanted to wake from.

​Jeongin began absent-mindedly tracing the curve of the man’s cheeks, the space between his eyebrows, and the cute mole under his left eye. Up close, his beauty was incomparable.

​"What's your name?" Jeongin's thumb lightly stroked the man's full, plump lips. The question escaped his tongue even though he knew it would fall on deaf ears. "My name is Jeongin."

​"... In?"

​Jeongin startled with a yelp, throwing himself off the man's chest just as the other struggled to rise. Because of Jeongin's panicked shove, the man ended up falling—hard—on his back.

​The merman watched him groan, then scrambled back on top of him, gently cradling the man’s face a second time.

​What a mess.

​"I'm sorry! I am so sorry! Are you okay?" Jeongin rambled nervously as the man's eyes slowly fluttered open.

​Jeongin's breath caught in his throat.

​This beautiful man’s eyes were meeting his own for the very first time.

​The man seemed dazed, his mind not yet fully coherent, but there was a hint of recognition slowly registering on his handsome face. The merman couldn't help but let out a bright, melodic trill that bubbled up from his chest.

​The man's lips parted as though he wanted to speak, but no words seemed able to come out.

​"Take it easy." Jeongin tried to be careful, but his affection seeped through his touch as he stroked his thumb along the man's cheekbone, holding him like something precious. "You've been through a lot."

​The man’s hand, though still weak, rose to cover the back of Jeongin’s. He stared up with squinted eyes, struggling to distinguish the figure through the haze of his exhaustion.

Yet he wore the expression of someone who had just encountered an angel.

​"... What am I going to do?"

​The distressed voice, approaching from behind the rocks, shattered the moment. Jeongin's hand slipped from the man's grasp as he made a swift retreat.

​Weak from the ordeal, the man reached out in a futile attempt to hold on to the celestial vision, but his angel was already gone. The light pressure on his chest had felt like a warm embrace; losing that weight so suddenly left him feeling cold.

​"Hyunjin!"

​Seconds after Jeongin's fin disappeared beneath the waves, the newcomer stumbled into the cove and ran toward the figure sprawled in the sand.

​Hyunjin blinked, his vision finally clearing. Looking up, he found the upside-down features of his friend looking down at him with exhilaration.

​"...Chan?" Hyunjin’s voice sounded rough and hoarse in his own ears.

​"Thank goodness. I thought you were a goner, man!" Chan helped him into a sitting position, then pressed the back of his hand against Hyunjin's forehead to check for a fever. "Word reached the palace that you fell overboard last night! We were already preparing the ships to search for you!"

​Hyunjin leaned back on his hands, his frazzled mind searching the empty beach. "Did you... see anyone else here?"

​"No?" A small frown of confusion crossed Chan’s face. Hyunjin looked lost as his gaze kept darting restlessly between the surf and the shore. "Why? Did someone help you?"

​Hyunjin didn’t know how to answer. He wasn't sure if he had been hallucinating, but his skin still tingled from the sensation of fingertips against his face. It was a faint memory only his skin could remember. "They were just here... before you found me. I think."

​"I didn't see anyone." Chan’s tone was skeptical but gentle. "No one could have made it down that cliff without being noticed. I think it’s safe to say you must have been dreaming."

​The thought was... disappointing. Even through the delirium, Hyunjin knew there was someone else there. Their voice had been melodious, almost hypnotizing. It felt familiar, like a half-remembered song.

​He was suspicious that "figment of his imagination" was the one who saved his life. There was no way he could have survived the storm alone unless he was insanely lucky, and he really didn't think that was the case.

"Let's get out of here. Everyone’s been worried sick. Jisung more than anyone, believe it or not." ​Chan wrapped an arm around him to help him stand. "They’re going to be so relieved you're okay."

​Hyunjin followed him away from the beach, but he stopped to take one last look at the ocean. A quiet longing took root in his heart. The nagging question of who could have pulled him from the depths and given him back his life remained.