Archive of Our Own ^beta

Yoongi’s fingers thunk on the small keyboard aimlessly, chiming random pops of notes from the speakers, dragging out varying small dashes on the screen. His vision blurs into a long yawn as he replays the messy instrumentals he’s been working on since last night. It’s hard to listen to—partly because of how rough it still is, though mostly because of the booming bass of some trending hip-hop song that’s loud enough to reverberate through the floor. With a frustrated sigh, he pushes himself up from his chair and exits his makeshift studio.

The sky is dark out already, though the lights in the living room are off. Yoongi flicks them on as he passes the switch and reaches out to lower the volume of the speaker that’s pressed to the floor, though not to the disappointment of his grandmother. I’m working, he signs.

Her eyes go wide at that simple remark, quietly apologetic though sheepish, lifting her hands to sign: Sometimes I forget that you can hear.

Yoongi props a hand on his hip, looking her dead in the eyes. I’m a songwriter.

With a frown, like Yoongi really should know better, she spells out a name with one hand. Beethoven.  

Well—you got me there. Yoongi comes up to take the empty plates and cups on the coffee table to the sink. He comes back out of the kitchen with a cup of stale coffee that he had brewed in the morning, which doesn’t escape his grandmother’s sight.

That’s your third cup today, she remarks.

I know, Yoongi signs back nonchalantly as he takes a bitter sip, which makes her sigh.

Such an awful bitter taste, she gestures solemnly. I don’t know how you can stomach such a thing, let alone enjoy it.

You’re just a picky eater, Yoongi rebuts lightly, chuckling at her playful glare. No meat, no chicken, no chilli, seafood but with no dipping sauce.

His grandmother waves him off, tired of the same old point. Leave my eating habits alone and go work. Good luck falling asleep tonight with all that caffeine in your system.

“Love you too,” Yoongi murmurs as a passing remark as he returns to where he’s holed himself up all day.

His brain doesn’t seem to be absorbing any of the music his ears are picking up; even as he fiddles around the different channels, muting the second bass and turning up the harmony, nothing seems to change; the song doesn’t sound better or worse. He scrubs his hand across his face with a sigh, feeling his eyes sting and water when he closes them for a moment. Should he rework this or scrap it and start over? It’s getting harder to tell these days. It isn’t easy to get a second opinion either; his friends havenʼt said it, but Yoongi sending them the same song that’s being re-worked again and again has to be annoying. It’s not like he can ask his grandmother for her opinion either.

His eyes gloss over as he thinks until the blurry monitor soon goes black and so does the entire room. For a moment, Yoongi sits with that darkness, wondering if he’ll ever climb out of this hole his mind has pushed him into, if he’s done everything he can to escape it.

The room gradually goes from darkness to the dimmest tinged silhouette of everything as he pulls the curtains back. The sun is setting in the horizon, already halfway down the ocean, rippling orange strokes to the shore. Yoongi stares out at it for a long while, feeling his thoughts quiet down to a complete silence. When he sits back down, letting his monitor light up the room, he closes the current track he’s been working on and opens another file outside of his work folder.

The song is barren compared to what he usually creates, with only a few simple guitar strums and an awfully fake humming sound as the melody. He lets it play over and over in a loop as he closes his eyes and tries to recall that day.

He wonders if he would’ve remembered more if he hadn’t been so scared. The tides were still high and they were surrounded on the small shore that was left. Yoongi’s head was laid on his lap, nostrils burning, throat dry and the roof of his mouth still salty as he breathed. Lying down, the sea was a vertical line, beckoning for him, reaching forward before retreating, provoking him.

The pair of legs pillowing his head were as small as his; the two of them couldn’t be much older than each other. Yoongi strains his eyes against his eyelids, trying to recall if he ever looked up, though to no avail. The way it grew cold as the sun left them, the grains of sand nipping at his legs, none of these details are important, not really. Yoongi often tries to relive that moment to hear that tune.

It started off with that one long note, this faint high-pitched hum that seemed to have slowed down the pace the world was moving at. Each syllable came out softly. The rocks had blocked the cold wind from getting to them, though there were light touches brushing through his hair. The pain in his lungs were still there and his legs hadn’t recovered from kicking against the current, though all his mind could focus on was the quiet melody from that lilt voice. Then slowly, like the waves that seemed so much gentler than before, that soft tune lulled him to sleep.

He almost has it, it feels like he almost has it, though it disappears the moment he opens his eyes. He huffs a frustrated sigh into his hands, another failed attempt. Has he ever heard the full song? Could he have remembered more if he hadn’t fallen asleep?

Falling asleep was the point, however. Itʼs the main reason why Yoongi has been trying to find this song for years. He’s looked for it everywhere online, even asking all his co-workers back when he was still working in Seoul, though no one had heard of it. In his many sleepless nights, he’d sit in his bed wide awake, thinking of that song that calmed him to sleep when he was too afraid to even close his eyes.

It’s still on his mind as he cooks dinner that evening, only to be disrupted by his grandmother who hands him his phone, buzzing with a call from his mother. Talks with her always start with the same set of questions, to which Yoongi always provides the same answer. No, taking care of grandma isn’t a hassle. He prefers Donghae to Seoul now. Heʼll find time to visit once heʼs free. Sure, the move has probably helped with his burnout.

“You know, she’s been complaining to me about you.”

Yoongi snorts as he plates the stew into separate bowls. “I’m not surprised.”

“Not about what you’re thinking, no,” his mother quickly intercepts. “You take great care of her, she’s just worried about you. You think she doesn’t notice, but she knows about you leaving the house in the middle of the night.”

That does surprise Yoongi, though he rolls his eyes at his mother’s tone. “You don’t have to sound like you two have busted me. It’s not a secret.”

“Where on earth do you go every night then?”

“The beach,” Yoongi tells her simply, signing with another hand so his grandmother knows it too. “I go down there when I can’t sleep.”

“The beach?” his mother repeats. “You’ve gotten over your fear?”

Yoongi feels his cheeks heat up. “I don’t go there to swim. I just sit and work on music there.” That’s a half-truth, technically. He’s never actually set foot on the sand.

“You know…you may not remember it since you were so young, but I do,” his mother murmurs solemnly.

What is she saying now? his grandmother signs.

That time I drowned at sea, Yoongi signs back.

“It felt like a living nightmare when we realized we lost you,” his mother goes on to say, “then someone mentioned the tides being especially strong that day because of the coming storm, and it took me everything not to scream.”

Yoongi sighs as he listens, feeling that minute dread in the pit of his stomach. “You’ve told me this before.”

“Because I don’t think I’ll ever be forgiven like that again,” she tells him. “When we found you alive at the shore, I made everyone promise that we’ll never lose sight of you again. Who knows if the tides will bring you back again if we do?”

That’s always an inconsistency in Yoongi’s head. They’ve had this conversation countless times, and they’ve always repeated that what Yoongi thought had happened was impossible. There’s no use trying to argue something so groundless. Resigned, he simply says, “I guess I was lucky.”

I believe you.

Yoongi sets his phone down on the table once he’s said goodbye. It takes him a moment, reviewing all the sign language he’s learned over the years to know he didn’t read it wrong. His grandmother seems to know this as she nods, affirming. As unreal as everyone thinks it is, I know it happened the way you remember it.

It makes Yoongi chuckle. You don’t have to side with me just because I’m taking care of you.

His grandmother simply shakes her head as she eats.

At night, Yoongi makes sure his grandmother is comfortable in her bed before leaving to his room. Things always go like this, though he still continues to do it in the hopes that one day the cycle will break and his eyes won’t pop open again until morning. Tonight is not the night for that change, and he defeatedly gets up, moving on to the next stage of the cycle.

The hill overlooks the sea, and Yoongi has found refuge here at night. These nerves make him feel like a child, looking down at the harrowing beast in its slumber, undisturbed and unable to hurt him as long as he doesn’t tread its surface. Perhaps this is his way of curing himself, slowly but surely, sitting just above the thing that almost killed him, looking down at the grasp that he somehow escaped, too far out of reach now.

He sits down on his usual wooden bench and pulls his guitar out of its case; his usual routine in an hour where he becomes the only human to exist, or he doesn’t exist at all. The moon sits in its awkward half shape as his quiet audience.

He thinks back to the song he’s been tackling all day, a love song for someone who’s never said ‘I love you’ aloud before, meant to ultimately be sung by a calm, clear-voiced trending pop singer. Yoongi murmurs out the lyrics in his tired voice as he mindlessly strums the chords, humming the melody he’s yet to put words to.

Things come out easier here at this time of the night, as he breaks down the song back to its fundamentals. He messily scribbles down the new lyrics as they come to him, heedless of if he’d be able to decipher any of this writing in the morning.

He moves on to other songs once he reaches a dead end with his first, as though the moon has requested for a different one. Cycling through a few of his ongoing projects eventually comes to a stop once none of them spark anything worthy of a breakthrough. Eventually, he moves on to one particular song that he had put together haplessly whenever ideas would strike. He has a lot of songs like this; the ones that would never see the light of day, not sent to any artist or sitting in the vault of some producer’s laptop, waiting for their moments. These are songs that will never be songs, never to be heard by anyone else.

Yoongi looks up at the dots of stars, humming senseless melodies, wondering why the night has welcomed him, to clear up this vast space in the world for a burnt out insomniac.

“Hello.”

It happens suddenly, though the voice is faint enough for Yoongi to not startle. It catches him off-guard nonetheless—he’s never seen anyone else here at this hour.

The man comes up to him carefully, smiling way too brightly for the night. Has a good interaction ever come out of talking to a stranger at three in the morning? Yoongi eyes the stranger suspiciously. “Is this how they induct people into cults these days?”

The stranger comes to a stop in front of him, eyes widened and confused. “That’s a strange way to say hello back,” he comments. There’s something odd about his speech, something in the accent that Yoongi can’t quite pinpoint. “Are you the one who’s been singing here every night?”

Yoongi looks down at his guitar then back up at him. “Yeah?”

The answer is simple, though it blooms the smile on the stranger’s face to another indiscernible level. “I’ve been listening to you every night. I only heard your voice, so I didn’t know what you look like.”

There’s been far too many changes to his night routine in the course of one night. He was never alone, as it turns out—his audience of two was the moon and this guy that has suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “Where are you from?”

The stranger only jerks his head toward something. Yoongi follows the motion, turning to see the sea. “What’s the name of the song you were playing?”

“Oh.” Yoongi looks down at his hands as though the song is somehow there. “It doesn’t exist.”

The guy lifts an eyebrow, tilting his head. “But you just played it.”

“I meant I wrote it myself. It doesn’t exist anywhere else,” Yoongi quickly explains, not knowing how all of this is supposed to go. “...Not yet anyway. Maybe one day, once the people who are supposed to sing it get to sing it, and the people who are supposed to hear it, hear it.” Has he grown too used to communicating in sign with his grandmother that he’s forgetting the fundamentals of basic human conversations?

The awkward gaze doesn’t leave him despite the answer. “The way you talk is strange,” the stranger says.

That catches Yoongi off-guard, making him scoff. “You’re not so normal yourself. What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

“I came to find you since I’m a fan,” the stranger says simply. “What’s your name?”

Quietly, Yoongi actually laughs at the sheer oddity of the situation. “Well, you’ve found me. It’s Yoongi.”

“Yoongi,” the stranger tests the name out, his smile widening as he does so. He points at himself. “Hoseok.”

Yoongi smiles at the little gesture. “Right.”

“May I come see you again?” Hoseok asks him. “If it doesn’t trouble you.”

Yoongi looks at this part of the world that he thought was his alone, then at Hoseok, who’s standing in the middle of it all. He doesn’t seem like an intruder, careful of every step, curious about everything. Perhaps a visitor, a new addition, the anomaly that breaks the cycle Yoongi has trapped himself in. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll just be here.”

The night has been lit up by this stranger who smiles a lot. He slowly steps away, biting another one back, though still contagious enough for Yoongi to have to hide his too. “Well. Goodnight, Yoongi.”

Yoongi gives him a small wave. He turns back to his guitar once Hoseok steps away, though as he’s about to strum some random chord, he hears it.

His ears instantly pick up the first four notes being hummed. He had gotten it right on the track. It doesn’t stop there; the progression of notes continues, rippling a strong wave of nostalgia over him.

He jumps up from the bench, leaving his guitar on the ground as he runs down the hill with a pounding heart. There was no doubt about it—Hoseok was humming the song.

Yoongi comes down to the empty road, trying to catch up to him. He sees a faint shadow further down and he desperately chases it only to come to a stop behind the line where the gravel turns into sand.

The beach is empty and Hoseok is nowhere to be found. He doesn’t like the shape the waves make from this angle, rising and falling like it’s breathing. He tries to remember the rest of the melody he’s just heard, though it has already disappeared from his head.

〰

It rains hard the next day, muffling any sound of passing cars or seagulls. Out the window, the sea becomes a live, ugly thing. The waves grow sharper, cutting through the water. Yoongi eyes his grandmother who looks out at it solemnly. Slowly, her hands come up from her lap. I knew a man foolish enough to dive into the sea in the middle of a storm.

And who was that fool? Yoongi asks.

Your grandfather. She chuckles at the memory of him. He loved the ocean, loved diving down until he’d touch the soft sand at the bottom.

It’s funny that Yoongi has inherited none of it. I feel nauseous just thinking about it.

His grandmother takes another glance back at the ocean as though she’d see him there, before turning back to Yoongi. Will you be going out there again tonight?

She doesn’t seem upset with him, or worried. Moreso curious. If it stops raining, he tells her.

And it does eventually. Yoongi was practically waiting for it, ears perked for the moment everything finally died down. The ground is soaked when he comes out, wet mud clinging to his shoes. He feels the wetness of the bench soak through his coat though he hasn’t begun to regret it yet.

He concentrates hard as he strums each chord, trying to relive yesterday. He definitely got the first four notes of the melody right, and he closes his eyes as he tries to remember what he heard next.

He feels it—almost—it feels close enough, slowly getting there, though he gets woken up by a cold droplet on his face, followed by another. It’s raining again.

Panic kicks in when the droplets drum against his guitar, quickly stuffing it back into the case he’s praying is somewhat waterproof.

He hurries down the hill, almost slipping down the stone steps in his haste. As he skitters down the road, he takes a final glance at the howling sea, though it yields a small detail that catches his eye.

Amid the harsh waves is Hoseok, the awkward stranger from yesterday. He disappears as the water folds over him just to emerge again, blinking it away from his eyes. The current is strong and unforgiving, yanking him with it and swallowing him into its depths. Yoongi feels his heart drop to his stomach.

Suddenly, Hoseok pops up from the water again, even further away from shore. He seems helpless out there, looking around and spotting the small dock nearby as he swims toward it. Wordlessly, Yoongi steps onto the damp sand, following that small figure that keeps disappearing and reappearing from the water.

Hoseok emerges again at the wooden dock that reaches out from the shore. A pale hand grabs onto one of the wooden poles, and Yoongi’s anxiety lowers itself slightly. Hoseok is holding onto the pole, though he makes no move to climb out of the water. Are his legs too weak? How long has he been out there for?

Yoongi knows what he’s supposed to do, being the only person there, though every step closer to the water makes him sick. “Stupid,” he grunts out at himself, frustrated by his fear. He tries to steady himself at the head of the dock, though he shakes as he lays his guitar against the steps. With a deep breath, he steps onto the wooden panels.

Fear seizes him all at once, every heartbeat punching through his head, though he grits his teeth through it as he stumbles forward to the end of the dock, coming face to face with waves that are reaching for him. Hoseok is there amongst it all.

Yoongi crouches down, nauseatingly close to the water, and extends his hand. “Come on.”

Hoseok looks up at him confusedly.

“Take my hand!” Yoongi shouts, selfishly impatient now that his brain is begging to be on land again.

Eventually, Hoseok takes his hand, and Yoongi musters all the strength he has left to pull him out. It’s harder than he thought; he didn’t think humans could be so heavy. It’s like Hoseok is making no effort to climb up and alleviate the weight by even a little. “Shit.” Yoongi gets on his knees, leaning down way too close to the water to grab Hoseok by the armpits and heaves him up in one go. The force has him stumbling backwards, his head knocking against the wooden panel none-too-gently.

The pain isn’t his focus right now, however, not when Hoseok is fully on top of him, nose-to-nose. “Oh,” the guy manages to let out. “Hello.”

Yoongi blinks up at him. “...Are you okay?”

“Yes, actually.”

What the hell is wrong with him? Yoongi curses internally, then curses again out loud when he realizes that his arms are still wrapped around this man’s naked torso. “Who gave you the bright idea to go swimming during a storm?” he asks, dropping his arms to his side.

“That’s not unusual for me,” Hoseok tells him frankly, making no move to get up when he’s completely soaking Yoongi.

“Can you…” Yoongi pushes him lightly, urging him to finally roll off, leaving him panting and looking up at the stars. There was no use hurrying down the hill and risking a fatal head injury just now. He may as well have been swimming in the ocean too in this state. It’s hard to keep his eyes open like this with the rain falling into his face. “Great,” he huffs. “My guitar’s probably ruined and now I’m gonna catch a cold because—”

Everything stops.

Yoongi’s earliest memory was the day he drowned at sea. He was five, and he believed that extraordinary things could happen, not because he drowned but because he was saved. Nothing else has happened since then and he slowly let go of that idea as he grew up.

Now, however, in a dawn’s haze, laid just above the same restless sea that tried to take him, with rain streaking his gaze, he sees a long emerald tail, the iridescent scales that glisten at each hit of a raindrop. Lower down are translucent fins, draping over the ledge of the wooden dock, swaying to the motions of the strong salty wind. Yoongi’s wide eyes travel from it up to where scales turn into skin, the bare torso that leads to Hoseok’s face.

“What—” Yoongi sputters out stupidly, as though it isn’t obvious enough. It’s difficult to process still, to believe the same way he did when he was a child.

Hoseok’s reaction is a great contrast to his. He’s smiling, for one, as if amused by this entire situation. “Did you think I was drowning?”

The bewilderment still hasn’t faded, and neither is Yoongi’s exhaustion as he pants. “I thought you were…”

“A landwalker?”

“...A what?”

“Human,” Hoseok says simply. Dumbly, Yoongi nods, and it makes him giggle; a new trickling sound to his ears. “I came to see you, but I guess you’ve found me first this time.”

“You…” Yoongi sits up, looking out at the pitch black sea then back at Hoseok. The recent oddities slowly click themselves in place, bit by bit; why this stranger seemed so nervous yet excited to speak to him, how he had disappeared so quickly without a trace, why Yoongi had never seen him before, a quiet admirer listening to him from down below.

His mind eases itself a little after that, no longer shocked though the profound thrill of it all has yet to fade. Just as he’s about to settle, the tail is gone and replaced by a pair of legs. Yoongi belatedly realizes that the guy is now stark naked and whips his head away. “The first part I sorta get, but what the fuck is this?”

“Oh,” Hoseok exclaims casually. “This is typical too.”

“Typical,” Yoongi scoffs, still turned away.

For the first time, he hears the usual cheer leave Hoseok’s voice, the way his tone drops when he hesitantly asks, “...Have I scared you?”

“No,” Yoongi quickly says, turning back to see concern morph his face; the only other person in the world right now. “I’m just…surprised. And embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” Hoseok repeats.

“Yeah,” Yoongi breathes, letting out a dry chuckle. “I tried to save a merman from drowning.” Just hearing that sentence come out of his mouth makes him feel insane. Could all of this be a dream?

For a brief moment, neither of them speak. The rain is loud against the water, the wooden dock, the howling wind. It’s hard to hear his own thoughts like this, and suddenly there’s nothing to protect him from the sea. “Please don’t leave yet,” he utters without thinking, speaking from his subconscious. Hoseok is surprised when he turns to him. “Please.”

The cycle of Yoongi’s usual night routine definitely doesn’t involve this: coming back to the apartment completely soaked with another man wearing nothing but his coat trailing in behind him.

“Wow,” Yoongi hears him marvel at the makeshift studio setup. He turns to look at Yoongi like he’s a vision beyond just a guy toweling his hair dry. “Is this where you make music?”

“Yeah. Careful not to get water on anything,” Yoongi warns him. As he digs through his closet for dry clothes, he can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all, the fact that a mythical being is so fascinated by his poor excuse of a studio. “Here,” he says, handing Hoseok a clean towel and a change of clothes.

Hoseok takes particular interest in the clothes, spreading out Yoongi’s old band shirt and basketball shorts. “Are these yours?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“It’s soft.” Hoseok scrunches the shirt up in his hands before pressing his nose to it, pulling away with a delighted smile. “I like it.”

Yoongi feels heat prick at his cheeks and almost curses. What the hell is he getting flustered for? It’s not like the shirt smells like him and not the fabric softener. God. “Do you—” he sputters out in a tragic effort to not be awkward. “How did your…tail turn into legs?”

“The rain must’ve washed all the sea water off of me,” Hoseok explains, unzipping Yoongi’s coat. “That’s how I turn.”

Then, without a warning, he drops the damp coat to the floor right in the middle of the room. Completely flustered now, Yoongi spins on his heels to face his bed. Hoseok makes a confused noise before he realizes. “Oh, I forgot humans are sensitive about these things.”

“Yep,” Yoongi confirms hoarsely. Hoseok is dressed by the time he turns back around, pulling the collar of his shirt up to his nose to smell it again. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“About my kind?” Hoseok looks back up.

“No, not really…” Yoongi bites his lip. He’s curious about that too now that this other wild factor has introduced itself, though it wasn’t what’s been keeping him up at night. “You were humming a tune the other day when you left. What song is that?”

“I hum a lot.” Hoseok frowns as he thinks. “Oh! It must be that, since it was at night.”

“What?” Yoongi asks, heart gradually racing for an answer.

“It’s a lullaby,” Hoseok tells him, oblivious to Yoongi’s growing anticipation. “I heard it a lot as a child.”

“Can—” It’s a stupid request, he knows that. There’s no unembarrassing way to say it. “...Can you sing it for me?”

That catches Hoseok off-guard. Rightfully so. “Me? But I’m no good at it.”

The response is endearing, Yoongi will give him that much. “And you think I am? You’ve heard me.”

“I love your voice,” Hoseok says suddenly, eyes bright. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard.”

It sounds so surreal that Yoongi actually laughs in his face, wordless as to what he could say in response. “I just want to hear the song. Can you sing it to me?”

Eventually, Hoseok relents. “Sure. Go lie down.”

Yoongi pauses. “Lie down?”

“It’s a lullaby,” Hoseok points out, then smiles again. “You’re supposed to sleep after. Don’t you have lullabies here?”

“We do. Just—” Yoongi sighs, completely defeated. He’s tired, he always is, but he’s too tired to form any cohesive argument right now.

And so Yoongi lies down in his bed with a merman he unknowingly tried to rescue earlier that night, and he’s too tired to question any of it. This exhaustion isn’t new; it’s accompanied him countless nights waiting for sleep that never comes.

“I like your bed,” he hears Hoseok say.

“You like everything,” Yoongi murmurs, blinking at the darkness.

What comes next changes his life—the first four notes he’s been holding onto, now with words to them, and it continues.

It feels…he doesn’t know what this feeling is, this slight nostalgia, hearing something he’s heard before like it’s the first time. Hoseok’s voice is lilt, almost breathing out each note, quiet yet there, close to being one with the white noise.

Something about standing at the edge of the world, being held in its embrace, the caress of the breeze and ocean waves. Yoongi tries to focus on the melody, on each word being sung, though all of it fades as he slowly drifts to sleep. He feels his lips move,

“I like your voice too.”

〰

Yoongi doesn’t remember any details of his dream, or if he even dreamed at all. He wakes up to the sunlight directly in his face and a dry throat. He pushes himself to sit up and groans at the awful pain on the back of his head. He’s awake; he’s actually awake. Not in a constant drift between barely alive and exhausted, just awake. This is new.

As he lets out an obnoxiously loud yawn, he realizes that he’s alone.

…Was that whole thing a dream? It couldn’t be, not all of it. His head still hurts from falling back onto the dock yesterday, and his guitar is left out of its case in a desperate attempt to dry it somehow.

The answer to that comes to him the moment he steps into the living room.

You woke up late today, his grandmother signs. Your friendʼs been waiting since this morning.

Yoongi blinks at the odd sight of Hoseok sitting at the table opposite to his grandmother with a snack between them. “...How long was I out?” he murmurs to himself.

Hoseok seems to have heard him. “A while,” he says. “I was going to leave, but she made me tea.” At that, he turns to her and lifts his hands. Thank you.

Yoongi squints. “...You know sign?”

“Merfolks sign,” he explains. “It’s different but similar enough.”

I like this one, his grandmother signs with a grin. You don’t have to sneak him in.

It takes Yoongi a second to understand what she means, looking at Hoseok, who suddenly appeared in the morning wearing Yoongi’s clothes, and Yoongi himself sleeping in. No, he signs firmly, feeling his entire face go red. No. It’s not what you think it is.

What is it? Hoseok signs, curious.

Yoongi ignores him. I wouldn’t sneak a guy into your home like that.

His grandmother shrugs. Never said you couldn't. Not like I would hear you anyway.

Yoongi groans into his hands, hating that any of this is happening to him. We’re just friends.

Hoseok’s eyes suddenly light up at that. “We are?” he asks aloud.

Yoongi bites his lip. It’s hard to say. “Sure. Let’s just call it that.”

Has he always had it in him to be able to make someone this happy? The beach is still vacant, or at least it looks like it from where he’s standing on the road. Hoseok belatedly notices that Yoongi has stopped just before the sand. “Is this where we part?”

Yoongi shoves his hands into his pocket, clenching them into fists. “I’m not going any further than this. But thank you…” He looks down at his shoes, at the line that separates the paved road and the sand. “For last night, I mean. It was a strange request.”

“Thanks for saving me,” he hears Hoseok say.

Yoongi scowls at himself, at the blush he feels on his cheeks. “I didn’t save you.”

“I appreciate the thought.” Hoseok looks down at his borrowed shirt, shorts, and the sandals that he slips his feet out of. “...Can I see you again?”

Yoongi tilts his head at the question. “You’ve asked me this before.”

Hoseok draws his feet against the sand. “That was before you knew what I was.”

“My answer hasn’t changed,” Yoongi insists. “You know where to find me.”

When he looks back up, it’s obvious that Hoseok is biting back a smile. “Okay.”

The prompt final word makes Yoongi laugh. He stays, watching Hoseok make his way down the beach to the wooden dock where he doesn’t hesitate to dive into the water and disappear.

And so begins the start of Yoongi’s new routine.

At night, he’d go out to the hill with his guitar and Hoseok would be there. There’s a variety to how he appears; sometimes he’d be there at the bench, waiting, other times Yoongi would be playing for a while before he shows up. Sometimes he’d be wearing the clothes he wore when they first met, his ‘landwalker outfit’, other times he’d wear the old shirt and shorts Yoongi had given him. That one is more common than the other.

“It feels more…human,” Hoseok explains when Yoongi asks why he likes it so much. “Itʼs soft. The other clothes I have are rough. I only wear them when I have to, which isn’t often.”

“Not much to do up here for a merman?” Yoongi asks.

Hoseok nods. “There’s nothing here that we need. Sometimes we come up to explore, but that’s not often either.” He turns to look at Yoongi. “You’re actually the first and only landwalker I’ve spoken to.”

That surprises Yoongi. “Is that why you were acting strange when you came up to me?”

“Was I acting strange?” Hoseok rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “We only talk when we’re above water, in a cave somewhere. We mostly sign underwater.”

Curious, Yoongi asks, “What’s the sign for landwalker?”

Hoseok demonstrates it for him, holding one palm up and dragging two fingers over it like legs. Landwalker.

Yoongi repeats it. Landwalker.

Hoseok smiles. You’re a landwalker.

And what are you? Yoongi signs.

He watches Hoseok’s hands carefully, though it’s a sign he recognizes. Your admirer.

Yoongi feels something funny in his chest. He’s been feeling that a lot lately like it’s been ingrained into his routine that this is how all their nights should go. Sometimes—most times now—he’d sit with his guitar in his arms, not even touching the strings as they talk; Yoongi, about his plain everyday life with his deaf grandmother that Hoseok finds so fascinating; Hoseok, about this other foreign world and its communities that are far more interesting.

Being a scavenger in his clan, Hoseok knows the world better than he does, and he’s seen more of it than Yoongi ever will. Knowing that, it feels weird to sing in front of Hoseok, to actually see the awe in his face as he listens to unfinished drafts and discarded melodies. “No one there sounds like you,” he says. “Deep and rough and…”

“Imperfect?” Yoongi adds jokingly.

“Sweet,” Hoseok corrects. “I like it. I like listening to you.” Though Yoongi can’t even fathom why, he continues to sing for him.

The nights end the same way, or at least they should, with them parting at the foot of the hill and Yoongi going home to fall asleep to the lullaby he put together on his laptop.

Hoseok doesn’t seem to like to follow routines, it seems. This time, he stops at the road, not saying goodnight. “Are you scared of the sea?”

“...How did you know?” Yoongi asks him.

“We always part here,” he says, “and you’re always up there on the hill. Even back then when you were there at the dock, you didn’t want me to leave you alone.” He says it so frankly that Yoongi’s a little embarrassed. “Why do you keep coming back if you’re scared?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi tells him honestly. “There’s nowhere else to go, I guess. Not in this town. Maybe I want to prove to myself that I could, one day.”

“That you could be at the sea without being scared?” Hoseok asks.

“Something like that,” he murmurs.

“Well, I could help you.”

“...What?”

〰 

Yoongi hates this. He absolutely hates it. Just his bare feet in the sand already makes him want to throw up, knowing how close he is to the water. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” Hoseok argues. He’s already topless, his favorite shirt stuffed into a small waterproof pouch that he carries with him when he comes to shore. He takes Yoongi’s pale hands into his. “Come on. One step at a time.”

It’s hard to say no to him, Yoongi finds, though it doesn’t ease the drop in his stomach as the sand underneath him grows damp and he sees the moment the water brushes past Hoseok’s ankles. He squirms away before it could reach him, gripping onto Hoseok’s hand like a lifeline. “Shit.”

“Yoongi, look at me,” Hoseok demands suddenly. His face is stern for a moment before he smiles. “This much water won’t hurt you, silly. Don’t look down.”

Yoongi frowns. “I might step on a shell if I don’t look down.”

“I’ll feel it first and I’ll move you then,” Hoseok rebuts, squeezing his hands. “Deep breath.”

Yoongi does as he’s told, closing his eyes for a moment before gathering the strength to move his legs. He feels the moment the water crawls up his calves, a live thing that slithers against his skin. “Oh, I hate this.”

“You’re doing great,” Hoseok says anyway, like he’s cheering on a toddler that’s trying to walk. Heʼs walking backward easily, not even looking down or behind himself to check for any oncoming rocks or shells, like he trusts the sea with all his heart. “Just a little more, come on.”

No turning back now, Yoongi trudges on slowly, appreciating that Hoseok doesn’t rush him. He’s doing surprisingly well, though his composure begins to slip when he realizes that the water has come up to their chests, his t-shirt lifting from his torso. “How far are we going?” He steps forward, feeling Hoseok’s calf. “Why haven’t you turned back yet?”

“I’ll only turn once I’m fully submerged,” Hoseok tells him. He’s still moving back. “Still okay?”

“I wasn’t okay from the start,” Yoongi grumbles, “but thanks.” Is it getting harder to talk? His chest feels constricted and he feels the motions of the wave more than he did earlier. He feels his anxiety grow as the water goes up to his neck. “Are we…done yet?”

Hoseok seems as fine as he was before, jerking his head to the left. “We haven’t even passed the dock yet and you were lying there a few weeks ago. Let’s set that as a goal.”

Yoongi tries to take a deep breath, feeling how much the water is constricting him. “Sure—”

His brain can’t even process that a wave has smacked him in the face, momentarily submerging him. He’s panting once his head has popped back up, eyes stinging and legs flailing once he can’t feel the ground underneath him anymore. “Hoseok—” he garbles out, trying to grab anything he can feel. His head doesn’t stop spinning until Hoseok re-emerges from the water, hair swept back by the motion.

“Are you okay?” he asks. He’s a lot closer now, with Yoongi’s arms hooked around his neck.

Yoongi feels his legs brush scales, a strong muscle that’s moving almost automatically, keeping them afloat. It freaks him out a little, though far less than drowning at sea would. He notices another detail, the small slits on each side of Hoseok’s necks. “Are those…your gills?”

“Hm? Yeah.” They briefly flap open then close again, making Yoongi jump. Hoseok laughs at his reaction.  “They only work underwater.”

Yoongi eyes them carefully, then looks down between them, though he can’t see anything underneath and quickly looks back up at Hoseok. His face comes into detail; it’s their first time being this close under daylight. His tear bags are prominent, there’s a mole at the top of his cupid’s bow, his cheekbones are high, the bridge of his nose is curved.

“I can feel your heart like this,” Hoseok says suddenly. “It’s going really fast.”

“Yeah, I’m…” Yoongi looks at him, then away, then back at him again. Why would he bring that up? “...scared.”

Hoseok chuckles at that, though for a moment his eyes stray to somewhere behind Yoongi, his expression changing momentarily before shifting back once he meets Yoongi’s gaze again. “Can I take you somewhere?”

“Haven’t I suffered enough?” Yoongi laments.

Good to know that his pessimism makes Hoseok smile anyway. “We won’t go deeper, I promise.” Then he shifts, moving them backwards until Yoongi’s feet find the ground again and relief washes over him. Hoseok keeps one of Yoongi’s arms over his shoulder, turning to the side. “Can we go like this?”

Yoongi hasn’t been in the sea in decades, let alone swim in it. Like a dream, his fear subsides as he kicks his feet, holding onto Hoseok and knowing that the sandy floor is just under him. It’s rather fascinating to see Hoseok up close like this, the glimpses of his tail underwater, swaying and propelling them forward. Not going against the tide, it feels like the sea is making way for them, welcoming Hoseok. Itʼs clear that this is where Hoseok belongs, that heʼs one with the water. The ease in which he swims slowly eases Yoongi too, even as the shore disappears from the corner of his eye, replaced by rocks and barnacles.

He didn’t know this spot existed, this small pocket just under the hill he comes to every night. Perhaps he’d never know if it weren’t for Hoseok. “This is where I first heard you. I’d come here to listen to you every night after my duty, but then I couldn’t help but wonder what you look like,” Hoseok tells him, smiling at the memory. “There were people at the shore just now.”

Yoongi feels more grounded now that he’s sitting on a hard stable surface, looking out at the vast sea with his pale legs still submerged in the water. Beside them is Hoseok’s tail, swaying slowly up and down, reflecting ripples of light and color. “You weren’t worried when I pulled you out of the water back then.”

“I suppose that was the risk I took,” Hoseok says. “I wanted to believe that someone who came down to sing to himself, someone who put his fears aside to save someone else, wouldn’t hurt me. It wouldn’t have been nice if you did.”

Yoongi feels himself smile. “No, it wouldn’t.” Would his days have gone on the same loop if he chose to just run home like he planned to that day? Would that discovery of Hoseok ever come? Would he ever be here, sitting by the sea like this? “You know, this is the first time I’m touching the sea and don’t feel sick.”

Hoseok looks at him. “How do you feel then?”

The sea isn’t trying to pull him in anymore, moving along as he kicks his legs back and forth. The scenery before him is simple; nothing more than the sky and the water. Itʼs easy to imagine that the rest of the world doesnʼt exist; just them and this vast ocean. “Calm,” he says. “I never thought Iʼd feel calm. My family used to come here every summer to visit my grandparents. I used to love playing in the sea, back when I didn’t know it could hurt me.” He laughs dryly at that sentence as soon as he says it. “It’s probably strange for you to hear.”

Hoseok shakes his head, far from amused. “That’s how I see it, too. It’s not too different down there compared to up here. There are those small bleak corners that are so menacing, I’ve seen them myself, but I still find the world so beautiful.” And he means it; it’s obvious that he does, looking out at the sea he’s seen all his life and still admiring it. When he turns to look at Yoongi again, his gaze doesn’t change. “What happened?”

Yoongi chuckles. “Do you really wanna know? I don’t even remember all of it.” Hoseok shrugs. “I was five. We were visiting my grandparents like usual and we spent the afternoon at the beach. My parents wanted to head inside once it was getting dark out but I still wanted to play, so I sneaked away by myself.” This part, he still remembers clearly; playing with his brother, jumping over each wave that came toward them. “I didn’t know there was a storm that night. The water suddenly rose and I got swept into the sea.”

This is where things begin to blur into a haze; being underwater, not being able to swim against the current, his limbs eventually giving out and descending deeper and deeper, the water surface out of his reach. “This is what I believe happened next,” he breathes. “Someone carried me to the surface and brought me back to shore. I think it was a boy, someone my age,” Yoongi tries to recall. “All I remember from that moment is him trying to calm me down…me laying my head on his lap and him singing that lullaby that made me fall asleep.” Yoongi kicks his leg up, watching the water splash up high. “I‘ve been terrified of the sea ever since.”

Hoseok is quiet for a while. “Someone saved you?”

“That’s what I thought, but no one believed me,” Yoongi murmurs. “The current was so strong that even an adult would struggle to swim back to shore, and I was alone when they found me.” He shrugs. “But then I heard you hum that tune, and everything changed. All my life, I’d never found anyone else who’s ever heard of that song before.” He looks down at Hoseok’s tail, then their hands resting between one another. “Maybe…maybe that’s why it wasn’t hard for me to believe that you’re real. Because I’ve believed before.”

“Do you think you were saved by a merfolk?” Hoseok asks him, a new glint in his eyes.

Yoongi nods. “Would you believe that?”

Hoseok smiles at him. “It’d be strange if I didnʼt. Merfolks tend to stay away from humans for the most part, but some do love humans.”

“You are part human, technically,” Yoongi remarks. “No one can tell the difference once you come up. Couldnʼt you just live as a human if you choose to?”

“Yes, actually,” Hoseok tells him. “I’ve heard of those who went to land and never came back.” He watches Yoongi kick the water up and does the same with his tail, far more majestic than a scrawny leg. Yoongi eyes the arch the water makes, the motion of Hoseok’s fin.

A rather dumb thought strikes. “...Can I touch it? Is that weird?”

Hoseok flaps his tail again, lifting it from the water and dropping it back in. “Sure.”

Gingerly, Yoongi lifts his hand, reaching down to lightly brush his fingers over the scales. They’re harder than he thought, though the muscle beneath it is soft when he pushes down. They grow firm when Hoseok lifts his tail, contracting, and Yoongi finds that his fingers glide down easily. He feels the little ridges of the scales once he drags his hand back up, all the way to where the scales turn into skin around Hoseok’s waist. It’s a new sensation, the way hard scales morph into soft skin.

Hoseok’s torso isn’t terribly lean, though his muscles are defined. Yoongi imagines that this is a given for someone who swims miles a day. He looks up to Hoseok’s neck where his gills are, and reaches up to run his index finger over one of the slits, feeling the indent. Hoseok suddenly shivers, and he jolts away. “...Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Hoseok quickly says, though he’s bringing up a hand to cover his gills. “When you touch it like that, it feels…”

The sun is setting in the horizon, and a new sight introduces itself to Yoongi—Hoseok’s blushing. Just that is enough of an indication, and Yoongi feels a rush of warmth through his entire body. “Shit, sorry. I- I didn’t know.”

Hoseok shakes his head though he’s still blushing. The setting sun has tinted everything pink. “Yoongi…are we friends?”

Yoongi blinks. “...Why do you ask?”

It’s rare for Hoseok to deliberately avoid eye contact like this. “There’s a word in my language…I’m not sure how to say it.” His hands shift to sign something Yoongi doesn’t understand.

“Do it again?” he asks, to which Hoseok hesitantly does. It’s a combination of two signs, he realizes. “...Mutual fondness?”

Hoseok only repeats it again. Mutual fondness.

Words suddenly leave Yoongi at that, and he fails to form any response. It’s hard to think over the sound of his heart beating in his ears. Perhaps Hoseok is in a similar place when he stops speaking. I am your admirer.

Yoongi’s eyes are fixed on the way Hoseok’s hands fold back into himself once he’s done, then he finds himself shaking his head. Hoseok’s eyes widen at that, and Yoongi gathers his courage to sign, you are my miracle.

Hoseok’s eyes flicker between Yoongi’s hands and face, and a chuckle escapes him. “What?”

It makes Yoongi smile too. “Hoseok-ah.”

This is bold. The last bold thing Yoongi did was when he swam in the sea an hour ago, and he’s just topped that by kissing a merman. Hoseok’s lips are soft, despite everything, though Yoongi experiences a new aftertaste once he’s pulled away. “Salty,” he mutters with a grimace.

Hoseok blinks at him confusedly, brushing his fingers over his lips. “What was that?”

“What was—” Yoongi sputters. “...Do merfolks not do that?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Is it common here?”

“Yeah— well…” Yoongi sighs, flustered beyond belief, not expecting this. “...Yeah, I guess. Common. But not between friends.”

“Not friends,” Hoseok repeats.

Mutual fondness, Yoongi signs.

It’s gotten dark, though Hoseok’s smile lights up the night. “Can we do it again?”

It’s impossible to say no to him, Yoongi realizes then. Hoseok is careful as he leans in, letting Yoongi peck him on the lips, though he still looks puzzled once he pulls back. “Again, please?”

He stops asking after that, leaning in again and again by himself, picking things up after each try. He grows eager, pushing for more, almost toppling them over before Yoongi pushes at his chest, stopping him.

Hoseok is panting like he hasn’t breathed at all throughout the whole thing, eyes wide and blush high on his cheeks. “...Like that?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi breathes, chuckling once he feels how light his chest suddenly is. He relishes in this newfound ease, in Hoseok’s smile. “Like that.”

〰

None of Yoongi’s days are the same now.

He’s finally sent the final demo for the song to the label and is working on new projects. His one active audience member to these drafts is Hoseok, who sometimes sits with him on the hill at night, though more often now during the day in his room, lying on his bed.

And in his free time—or when he’s slacking off—they’d both be on his bed, letting the day pass them by.

Despite his initial confusion, Hoseok has grown enthusiastic about this new kind of touch, brushing his lips over Yoongi’s, welcoming his touch. It’s bliss like Yoongi’s never felt before, staying close when they part, pressing their foreheads together.

Hoseok smiles at him. “I like this.”

“You like everything,” Yoongi rebuts, relishing in Hoseok’s laugh, the way their noses brush when he shakes his head, kissing Yoongi again.

It’s easy to get carried away with him. Yoongi’s hands trace the shape of his hips, his waist. His lips drift to Hoseok’s cheek, feeling him giggle, kissing down his jawline to his neck where he suddenly shudders. It takes Yoongi a second to realize, kissing down the column of his throat, that he’s sensitive here even without his gills visible now, and he wakes up when Hoseok lets out a moan.

Yoongi pulls away at that, though to Hoseok’s displeasure. He watches him bite his lip, tilting his head to the side, presenting his neck. “Don’t stop?”

And there it is. Just those two words are enough to fatally destroy Yoongi. “Ah, shit.” He presses his face into Hoseok’s shoulder. “This is bad. I didn’t plan for this.”

“What?” he hears Hoseok ask.

Yoongi takes a deep inhale, smelling his own fabric softener, reconsidering all of it before he confesses, “I think I like you too much.”

Hoseok’s initial reaction is to chuckle. “You think?”

“Mm.” Yoongi closes his eyes, resting there like he could hide from the reality that’s slowly setting upon them. “What’s gonna happen if I do?”

He feels fingers brush through his hair. “...Is something supposed to happen?”

“What’s gonna happen when you become someone I can lose?” Yoongi murmurs.

Hoseok is still calm, however. “Why would you lose me?”

Slowly, Yoongi pulls away to look at him, smiling. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Selfishly, he doesnʼt like that theyʼve reached this point where things can hurt now, where the bond has formed and grown enough for it to be able to break, for him to wonder what would be left of them once this fascination of each other fades. It feels inevitable, the thought that Hoseok would soon realize how ordinary he is, that the world holds wonders far grander than a broke songwriter living with his grandmother in a small seaside town. 

Gently, Hoseok takes his hands, caressing them. “I donʼt know everything about you, and you donʼt know everything about me, and itʼs true that weʼre not the same.” He rubs his thumb over the back of Yoongiʼs hand. “But you look at the moon like I do, and the lullaby about sitting at the edge of the world calmed you the same way it calmed me. The way I see it is rather than us being in different worlds, weʼre just existing in our own ways beside one another. Weʼre more alike than we are different.”

Yoongi listens to it all carefully, this view of the world heʼs never seen before, the merman who chose him, of all people. “One day youʼre going to talk to other people and realize how much of an idiot I am. Then youʼll leave,” he says lightly.

Hoseok shakes his head. “Iʼm not leaving,” he murmurs, pulling Yoongi closer by the shoulders, his mischievous smile returning to his lips. “I still want you to kiss me.”

Yoongi complies, of course he does, though not without the numbing thought that he has no idea where they’re going with this. Still, Hoseok pulls him closer until they’re both lying down, legs tangled together against the sheets.

The sudden knock on the wall is loud and deliberate, jolting the both of them. Yoongi knows this signal well, and he curses under his breath when he turns to check the time on his phone.

His day isn’t the only thing Hoseok has brightened. His grandmother doesn’t just sit with the TV on or the music turned up while Yoongi cooks anymore. Her signing is livelier than with Yoongi, telling Hoseok about Yoongi’s time in the city, how he got so burned out by it that he moved his studio all the way here once his grandfather passed.

Enough, he signs once his eyes catch his grandmother signing caffeine addiction to a very confused Hoseok. He sets the table loudly. You’ve embarrassed me enough.

There’s just so much to tell him, his grandmother emphasizes. Such a good listener.

“What else did she tell you?” Yoongi asks Hoseok, taking the shells off the clams for his grandmother.

Hoseok smirks, deliberately signing so his grandmother knows it too. It’s a secret.

It’s obvious that Yoongi’s grandmother has taken a liking to Hoseok, even telling her friends about him when they came to visit. They like the same food, they love the ocean, and Yoongi thinks she’s just glad to tell all her stories to someone who’s never heard them before.

Hoseok lingers at the door even after he’s bid her goodbye. “I can go back by myself today. Just stay here and keep her company.”

Yoongi nods. “Sorry if I said some weird things back there.”

“You’ve always been weird,” Hoseok rebuts, laughing at Yoongi’s shock. “I’ve picked up your humor. Have you noticed? Silly,” he chuckles, suddenly cupping Yoongi’s face and placing a small peck on his lips before he leaves.

As the door closes, Yoongi hears a scoff from behind him. Just friends, his grandmother signs menacingly when he turns back to look.

Yoongi’s face feels like it’s about to explode. I really don’t want to talk to you about this.

She tuts at that. You’d miss out on a lot. I asked him if your music is any good.

Yoongi perks up at that. …Yeah?

He said it was the best he’s ever heard, she signs. You’ve mesmerized him like a siren.

Yoongi snorts at the irony of that statement, coming to join her on the couch. He’s just easily impressed. It’ll only last so long.

It’s like his hand moved before he could even think it through, signing that last part. His grandmother raises an eyebrow at it suspiciously. You’ve never struck me as someone who gives up without even trying. When Yoongi doesn’t form any response, she continues, It’s not good to drown yourself in hypotheticals. To waste life away by only living it in your head.

Yoongi sighs at that. It’s not that simple, he tries to explain. Hoseok is not from here.

Neither was I, she rebuts. It’s an obstacle, but not a dead end.

Yoongi shakes his head, though something throws him off. …Isn’t this where you and grandpa met? You both lived here.

She nods. That is also true.

A thought strikes—one so daunting Yoongi doesn’t know how to articulate it. It could be what he thinks it is, or it might not. There’s always been a mystery when it came to her side of the family and the more he thinks about it, the more it rationalizes itself.

Grandma. He takes her hand, pressing it to his throat. He’s asked everyone but her. Do you know this song?

Quietly, he hums the tune of the lullaby, gaze fixed on hers as she feels the vibration under her fingertips. She doesn’t say anything at first, her eyes distant as though she’s trying to process it. At the edge of the world, he signs, we bid farewell to the moon and fall into the breeze.

He waits—a second then two—a short moment—she pulls her hand back— Into the water’s embrace, we hide under the sand and wait for the sun. She smiles at Yoongi’s wide eyes. Goodnight, world.

Yoongi looks at her like she’s just been reborn right in front of him. … Does Mom know? Does anyone?

Her smile is different from her usual snark ones. It’s gentle and knowing, her eyes are full of life. Your grandfather knew. That was how we met.

To see her actually admit it changes everything he knows, the pure idea of life itself, of love. You came to land to be with him.

And what a life, she signs, blissful at the mere thought of it. He told me not to, that it was impossible, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try.

…Have you ever regretted it? Yoongi asks her.

She looks at him. How could I ever regret you, your mother, and all these wonderful things? Nothing has ever stopped me. Why should it stop you? she points out. Why write an ending to something that has barely begun?

Yoongi doesn’t go out that night, though he’s still awake. Sleep hasn’t been an issue for a long while now but he can’t seem to shake off the habit, like the night still yearns for him, the moon awaits another serenade.

For a while, he composes, layering the instruments one by one, putting together a rough melody. Afterward, he writes, and that part comes a little harder for him. It usually isn’t, not when he’s writing for a client or when he’s helping to fill a song with a line or two; words come harder when it is to be spoken by him to Hoseok. “At the edge of the world,” he murmurs to himself, “you turned my fear into bliss.”

Perhaps it’ll all end terribly for them, unlike his grandparents; there’s no rulebook for this, no guide on how it’s supposed to work. They’ve been navigating it blind so far, not knowing what they’ll stumble into, but would he rather fall into that possible pit with Hoseok or walk away, haunted by that niggling thought that will always wonder what would’ve happened if he didn’t?

Yoongi turns off the lights and goes to sleep.

〰

There are people at the beach this evening. Two small girls run toward the water as it pulls away, then skitters back with a squeal once it returns. Their parents sit further up on the dry sand. Two men are laying on a mat further away, talking to one another with their backs facing the sun.

Yoongi observes them all for a while, taking the focus off of his own life, to not look at the sea and feel that foolish ache that comes with wanting someone who isn’t here.

Slowly, he walks along the shore, meandering. His usual hill is far behind him, and the wooden dock is a small line in the scenery.

He watches the sunset alone, and makes his way back with his blue elongated shadow next to him. Near the hill is a flat rock that slightly dips itself into the water, though comfortable enough for him to sit on. His guitar is set beside him in its case, untouched as he proceeds to do nothing but look out at the sea.

By nightfall, the world becomes his again. The moon appears in a thin crescent just above him, the line where the ocean meets the sky is barely visible now.

He looks at the small ripples of white as the top of each wave catches the moonlight for a brief second, like warped stars that have fallen from the sky. The view before him is always changing, yet it still remains the same; moon, stars, sea, waves that sometimes rise up enough to look like a figure that promptly descends back down.

His eyes catch a glimpse of something within it all, a new detail. No wave is shaped like that, the sheer iridescence of fins. It appears for a split second, enough to catch Yoongi’s attention though not enough for him to jump out of his seat.

He watches the water carefully, eyes dragging down the length of the sea, though he’s underestimated how fast merfolks are.

Hoseok is suddenly close enough to the shore now that his head is visible above the water, looking at Yoongi with wide eyes.

Everything he’s sorted out comes to him at that moment, so overwhelming that not a single word can escape his throat.

“Yoongi?” Hoseok says, still far away in the water.

Yoongi can’t seem to muster out anything longer than “Hello.”

He stands up from the rock and walks toward Hoseok. Water gushes into his shoes at every step, soaking his pants, though he can’t bring himself to go back.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok breathes, not moving. “Your clothes—”

Yoongi shakes his head. Water splashes up to his shirt from how frantic he grows, trying to run. He doesn’t feel the weight of the waves pushing back at him, the water that rises above his knees. His mind is focused on Hoseok, who's closer now, who took that risk to trust Yoongi—who still came all the way to shore just to see this human that somehow deserves him.

“Hoseok,” he breathes when Hoseok is just a reach away. Water splashes at his chin when he falls to his knees, eyes leveled with Hoseok’s wide ones, and pulls him into his hold.

The sea is up to his chest like this, constricting him the same way it did when he swam but he couldn’t care less. Not when Hoseok is here, not when all he can do to keep something he could lose is to hold on, and hold on tightly.

“Yoongi?” he hears Hoseok say, feels it as a rumble against his chest. “What’s this? Your heart’s racing.” He pulls away, looking at the state they’re in, the fact that Yoongi is fully sitting in the water in his clothes, completely soaked. He barks out a laugh, tail flapping out of the water for a moment. “What are you doing?”

“I was waiting for you,” Yoongi manages to say.

It’s not the most profound thing he could’ve said, but it makes Hoseok’s expression soften like he knows what lies beyond those words. “You were?”

“I don’t know what to do when it comes to this, but I know that I don’t want you to go,” Yoongi tells him, meeting his gaze. “I’d rather get my heart broken than never try at all.”

Hoseok’s expression changes at that. His eyes are glassy and his lips quiver, though he tries to laugh it off. “You splashed your way here just to say that?” He lightly hits his fist against Yoongi’s chest. “Foolish human.”

“I never said I was clever,” Yoongi rebuts coyly. Hoseok shakes his head, though he lets himself lean in when the wave pushes him forward from behind, brushing his lips over Yoongi’s.

Yoongi tightens his hold, trying to commit all of it to memory; the feeling of Hoseok’s back, his hips, where his scales turn into skin. More alike than different—he’ll put all his trust into that.

“Salty?” Hoseok asks when they pull away, grinning when he manages to make Yoongi laugh.

He shrugs. “I’m getting used to it.”

Back at the shore, he’s still a sopping wet mess. The water weighs down his clothes and shoes, dribbling a trail on the sand as he walks. He takes his guitar out of its case, chuckling at the way Hoseok lights up from where he’s sitting on a rock. “Keep your expectations low.”

He’s conflicted between looking at Hoseok and looking anywhere else as he plays, too flustered to look but too curious to not. He tries his best to sing without melting into nothing from the nerves and ending up embarrassingly blubbering the words out.

He does chance a look at Hoseok once the song is over, and the sweet smile he sees makes him blush. “This is new,” he says, “what is it called?”

“A lull in the sea,” Yoongi tells him.

“Does it exist?” Hoseok jokes. “Or will it exist soon?”

“It does now,” Yoongi tells him. “You’ve heard it.”

It takes Hoseok a moment for him to understand that, and it shows on his face, in his smile and bright eyes. “Yoongi,” he whispers, and that’s all he says. His hands are careful as they move. I love you, too.

〰

It’s late by the time they’re inside, though neither of them are asleep. Yoongi drags his hands up Hoseok’s legs to his thighs, squeezing them slightly. Hoseok reaches for him, pulling him closer. “Can I see you too?”

“Sure,” Yoongi murmurs, trying to stomp his shyness away as he reaches down to the hem of his shirt. He pauses, then reaches for Hoseok’s hands instead. “Help me?”

That earns him the expected reaction—Hoseok’s amused giggle, gingerly pulling the shirt up and off of Yoongi. The button of his jeans was a slight challenge for him, though he deals with it quickly.

Hoseok stares once they’re facing each other, no barrier between them. He extends his hand the same way he did when he first saw Yoongi’s music equipment, curious but careful, inspecting it. The first touch on his thigh is light, though once he notices that Yoongi doesn’t pull away, that Yoongi lets him, his hands begin to roam; over his hips, his stomach, his chest—pausing to feel his racing heart against his palm, then up his shoulders and neck to cup his cheek. Yoongi puts his hand atop Hoseok’s, holding him there, smiling when their eyes meet.

“What’s this?” Yoongi whispers when he notices Hoseok’s blush, slightly amused. “You’re getting shy? This is new.”

Hoseok flickers his eyes away, pouting slightly. “I’ve never…not with a landwalker.”

He says that, though he fails to take into account that He’s smart. Heʼs too smart. Heʼs learning far too quickly for Yoongiʼs heart to handle, falling back and pulling Yoongi with him, parting his lips. The noises he makes are lethal—breathy, shivering as Yoongi mouths over the side of his neck. His grip on Yoongiʼs shoulders tighten when Yoongi sucks a kiss on his skin. “Yoongi, it feels—”

“How does it feel?” Yoongi asks him, breathing against his neck, making him shake. “Tell me.”

“I feel greedy,” Hoseok murmurs, breath hitching when Yoongi slips a hand up his chest. “It feels too good.”

“Too good,” Yoongi repeats, chuckling quietly. He likes that they’re being quiet even though no one can hear them, especially not his grandmother. This tender moment calls for it subconsciously as they whisper to one another. Yoongi asks him how it’s usually done between merfolks and Hoseok breathily explains; tangled tails, touching pelvises, he’s too embarrassed to go into detail.

Languidly, they touch each other; tangled legs and laving tongues, movements that grow frantic the more the heat builds, eyes kept on one another, watching each other fall apart. Hoseok is actually loud at the peak of it, and he cutely slaps a hand over his mouth like he didn’t expect such a sound to come out, making them both laugh as they come down.

Under the covers, Hoseok caresses his face, thumbing over his stubble and his cheek. “Sometimes I don’t believe that you’re real,” he whispers.

“That’s my line,” Yoongi rebuts, equally as quiet. “Sometimes I think that it could’ve been you who saved me back then. I was lucky then, and maybe I was lucky enough to meet you again.”

Hoseok smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Yoongi’s lips. “Close your eyes,” he whispers into the kiss.

Once Yoongi complies, he hears it, sung as softly as the first time. He feels it through Hoseok’s voice; the weightlessness of the breeze they fall into, the softness of the sand they hide under, waiting for the warmth of the sun to pour over them.

Goodnight, world.

〰

Yoongi didn’t know the odd wheelchair was made for going over sand, though the thick wheels now make sense as they easily glide across the beach. His grandma hums an off-key tune as she watches the ocean pass by. This is their first time on the beach together ever since Yoongi was five. He leans over to get her attention. Do you remember where you met grandpa?

She points at the hill. Just under it is a small nook in the rocks. He was sitting there and I saw him from afar.

They watch the sunset together. Her eyes are shiny when Yoongi turns to look at her, though she dismisses him with a hand when he asks. I’ll stay here for a bit, she says simply, just to feel him.

Yoongi walks down the wooden dock with his guitar. He leaves his shoes next to him as he takes a seat, dipping his feet into the water. He doesn’t think as he strums each chord, freely playing whatever comes to mind. He eventually finds himself playing the lullaby, humming the lyrics to himself.

Halfway through, a small audience of one has formed in front of him, making him stop momentarily. “Hey babe.”

Hoseok smiles up at him from the water. “Keep going.”