#282: What Price, Love?

[lordchen]

Prompt: #282
Title: What Price, Love?
Pairing: Chen/Kai
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Possibly/mildly disturbing imagery
Word count: 14k
Summary: Jongdae just wanted the truth, but will it be worth the curiosity?
Author's note: Dear prompter, I do not know if you ship the pairing I've chosen, so I'm taking a gamble on this. The entire fic is a gamble, actually, as I might have veered off a bit from the prompt when the plot started running away from me. Nonetheless, I hope you like it! (Also, the Jung Hyerim mentioned here is Apink’s Eunji.)



Jongdae never believed in horoscopes.

He thought them vague, ridiculous, or irrelevant to his life most of the time. He’d skip horoscope columns in magazines or tune them out in radio broadcasts. He didn’t judge anyone who liked or believed in them, but he was of the opinion your day’s outcome depended solely on your reactions and choices.

So when the day’s weather report segued to the daily horoscope, Jongdae lowered the volume on purpose. He had a habit of letting the morning news run in the background as he prepared for the day, but he never stuck around long enough for this section. He could still catch words and phrases, but he was more interested on checking not a single hair was out of place in front of the mirror.

He moved to turn off the television. His zodiac sign was announced next. One push on the power button and he’d be spared from the prattle.

“—embroiled in a situation you’ve never foreseen. Perhaps it’s something new and interesting, or could involve someone you should settle things with. Your lucky color—”

Jongdae pushed the button and shook his head.

He maintained his stance against horoscopes and rejected what he’d just heard. Today would be like any other day, and it would be in his power how it would go. If he didn’t believe in horoscopes before, why should he now?

He repeated this to himself while shrugging on his dress jacket before leaving his apartment.

He repeated this a few more times on commute and alighted at the designated subway station, walked a good distance until he reached a path lined by cherry blossom trees. At the end of the path loomed a prestigious wedding hall—today’s destination. He had an hour to himself so he walked at leisure, humming the song he’d practiced for months and reaching out to catch the falling petals.

A petal landed on his palm. Jongdae held it between his fingers with the utmost care, marveling over it.

“Hyung.”

Jongdae stood rooted in place, immobilized by his surprise. Took a deep, steadying breath and willed his feet to move. Perhaps he’d heard wrong, or he wasn’t the person being addressed—

“Jongdae-hyung, I know you heard me.”

A pair of footsteps approached from behind, becoming louder as the distance decreased. Already Jongdae regretted stopping, but not as much as his reaction to the voice.

A voice he thought he’d long forgotten.

The footsteps paused. Jongdae knew he should walk away, but his feet betrayed him for the second time by turning aroun, instead.

Time stopped and stretched out into a seemingly infinite moment as soon as his eyes landed on none other than Kim Jongin.

Jongdae hadn’t seen him in so long, but nothing changed in the way Jongin looked: still breathtaking, still shrouded in the same mysterious charm that reeled one in. He looked immaculate in his tailor-made suit, slicked back hair, and irresistible smile that could get anyone to do his bidding, if he so wished.

The same smile he’d fallen for, once.

“Hello, hyung,” Jongin greeted, the deepness of his voice and the ghost of a smile playing on his lips further confirming Jongdae wasn’t hallucinating.

“How are you?” Jongin tried again when Jongdae remained silent, curiosity stitched together with his hesitation.

Jongdae’s forehead creased at the blatant attempt for small talk. Last he checked, they weren’t even on talking terms. “Why are you here? You should be inside. Junmyeon-hyung might need you by his side.”

“Junmyeon-hyung is with his parents. He’ll be fine. He promises he won’t faint on the wedding ceremony itself,” Jongin answered readily, like he’d prepared for the question.

“Good.” Jongdae took this as his cue to leave.

“Hyung, can we please talk?”

The long-simmering resentment snapped free from its confines as Jongdae whirled around and glowered.

“Talk? You want to talk?” Jongdae spat out the words with so much venom it made Jongin flinch. It took every ounce of his self-restraint to keep himself in check, refusing to further worsen his already ruined morning. “I gave you so many chances in the past, but you wasted all of them!”

With guilt painted on his face, Jongin said, “I know. I’m not proud of what happened, but I want to make amends.”

Jongdae barked out a short, bitter laugh. “Don’t you think you’re a little too late for that?” He spat out the words as if poisonous. “There is nothing to talk about. We have nothing to do with each other anymore. And if you cared for me, you will back off and leave me alone.”

Jongdae stalked off without waiting for a response, red-hot anger spreading on his cheeks, heart racing from a myriad of emotions all at once.









“What’s with the air in America? I didn’t recognize Jongin at first, but damn, he came back mighty fine.”

“Gee, I wonder why you’re telling me this,” Jongdae said, voice monotone and sardonic.

“It’s a legit question,” Baekhyu argued, though with a playful smile. “He couldn’t stop turning heads every time he passed by. I would know—I’ve been whisked off to every corner of the hall signing autographs and taking pictures with guests, but majority of them couldn’t stop talking about him.”

And for good reason, perhaps.

Kim Jongin, cousin of one of South Korea’s most affluent businessmen, had shown up at the wedding after two years of falling off the radar. Prior to today, Jongin had shaken up the dancing world and generated talk about his sudden withdrawal as principal dancer from Korea National Ballet. Various speculations had surrounded the news, from secret injury to disguised dismissal; no one could believe a ballet dancer would kill his career by stopping at the height of it, but Jongin had never disclosed his reasons and refused interviews. Junmyeon had answered in his stead, telling media outlets his cousin wished to keep his reasons private.

Jongdae had supposed Jongin had his reasons, too, for not saying a peep before vanishing into thin air after their heated argument that sparked the breakup, but he was done trying to draw answers out of thin air.

“No one expected him to turn up at the wedding. I didn’t expect him to turn up at the wedding, but good to know he has the decency not to miss his only cousin’s special day,” Jongdae said, slurping on his jajangmyeon with renewed vengeance. Not even the chunjang’s prominent saltiness could overpower the resurfacing bitterness he harbored for the situation.

Baekhyun busied himself with the potato salad. “He had everyone’s attention, all right, but he kept his eyes on you whenever he could.”

“So? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Flattered?” Jongdae snapped.

Baekhyun’s stunned face sobered him up.

Jongdae inhaled and exhaled a steadying breath and murmured an apology.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel it. The weight of Jongin’s gaze on him as he moved about in the hall was unmistakable. He’d caught Jongin looking at him the few times he’d accidentally turned his way but ignored it. He couldn’t have been more thankful for the small mercy of standing in front of the newlyweds when he sang a congratulatory song so he needn’t let his eyes roam. Aside from Baekhyun keeping him company, he had also been preoccupied swapping business cards with music company bigwigs and expanding his network of composers and singers alike.

He was also lucky to have escaped the reception after bidding goodbye to Junmyeon and Hyerim before Jongin could cross the room and stop him. He’d dragged Baekhyun with him to the first hole-in-the-wall restaurant they could find within the area so he could eat his feelings.

Baekhyun smiled in understanding. “I’ve seen your struggle trying to get over him. You’ve succeeded and I’m proud of you, but it won’t hurt to talk to him so you can get your closure.”

Jongdae knew that. Understood it clearly; but when he thought back to the time he was a mess, he couldn’t risk falling apart again. He was still shocked by Jongin’s unannounced return, but he’d just hang on to the luck he’s had so far in avoiding him.

Said luck lasted overnight.

Jongdae sipped his coffee and resumed his game of Tetris. He’d arrived ten minutes early and hit the café while waiting for Baekhyun. They were going to see a movie Baekhyun had expressed interest in watching, but he was only available today as it was his only vacant day for the week, what with being always submerged neck-deep into idol duties.

He’d played and won three levels, but still no sign of Baekhyun. Jongdae sent him a text, asking for his current whereabouts. He couldn’t blame Baekhyun for being late sometimes. Either he was trying to lose his stalkers or stuck in traffic; but the former happened too many times to count, he genuinely felt sorry for him.

Half of his cup’s contents had disappeared before a shadow fell over the table. Playful scolding ready at the tip of his tongue, Jongdae looked up with a smile that disappeared just as fast.

Jongin was looking at him, the uncertainty on his face melting into relief. “I knew it was you.”

“You’re not Baekhyun,” Jongdae stated, brows furrowing.

Jongin looked confused as he answered, “Yeah. I’m… Jongin.” He gestured to the vacant seat. “May I?”

Jongdae snuck a cursory glance around them. The café had plenty of vacant tables. Fat chance Jongin didn’t notice that. Jongdae had the option of driving him away, but after all the talk of having finally having moved on, he should prove to himself Jongin didn’t have the same effect on him anymore.

This was his first test, and he intended on passing it with flying colors.

He gave a casual shrug. “Sure. Be my guest.”

Jongin smiled in thanks and sat down. Jongdae busied himself with his phone but caught a glimpse of Jongin setting down a cup of iced mint choco and a bottle of pink lemonade. Still the same person with the taste buds of a child. Where would he even put all that sugar?

Why did he even care?

Jongdae was getting used to the silence, but Jongin broke it by asking, “Were you going somewhere with Baekhyun-hyung?”

“Movie,” was all Jongdae said in reply.

A beat of silence before Jongdae decided he should engage in conversation, too. “So what brings you here?”

“I came from the bookstore. I’m waiting for a couple of friends,” Jongin answered right away, as if he’d been dying to say something that wouldn’t let them fall into tense silence.

Jongdae easily saw through him, and he was a bit annoyed at himself that he could still read Jongin easily.

But he chalked that up to the years they’d known each other and didn’t think of it as anything special.

He did take pity on Jongin awkwardly fidgeting in his seat, though, so he decided on easing his burden a little by saying, “Want to play the game?”

Jongin’s face lit up in surprise. For the first time today, he smiled huge and bright.

Jongdae ignored the traitorous skipping of his heart upon seeing it.

Their so-called game was nothing more than taking turns in making up stories of the people around them. Whoever came up with the most outrageous story won. It was a game they used to play, first as an icebreaker during their awkward first dates, and then eventually established itself as a regular thing between them.

Jongdae hadn’t played the game since they’d broken up. Suggesting it meant nothing to him.

“You can go first,” he told Jongin.

“Left table.”

A couple in their early twenties, give or take. The woman wore a smile as she listened to what the man was telling her.

“They’re robbing a bank tonight. Boyfriend’s planned everything, from the car they’ll use down to their escape route. Girlfriend’s excited, but once they get their hands on the money, she’ll dispose of Boyfriend and throw his remains in the Han River.”

Jongin chuckled. “Not the twist I expected, but it’s good. My turn.”

“Obviously, the right table.”

Two teenaged boys were wolfing down their food without conversation. One wore glasses and a plaid shirt. The other boy donned a jersey with his hair slicked back.

Jongin assessed them a second longer. “They’re fake dating.”

Jongdae almost choked on his drink. “Just because they’re not talking?”

Jongin shrugged. “Plaid Shirt just wants to get rid of the unwanted attention from the barista who usually prepares his drink when he comes here. What convenient timing for Jersey Jock to emerge from the restroom and rescue him. Except they don’t know each other, so now it’s awkward because they ordered the lovers’ special and have to finish it all so they could get the free dessert.”

Jongdae considered this for a moment. “Okay, that works.”

He sipped his coffee and resumed his paused Tetris game, waiting for Jongin to look for the next target.

“The table situated between bank robbers and fake daters.”

A hundred expletives ran through Jongdae’s mind.

Jongin’s expectant gaze lay heavy on him, not budging even as he looked up. He must’ve forgotten it wasn’t his turn because he went ahead and said, “If you ask me, I think Blue Sweater wants a second chance.”

Jongdae stopped himself from snorting and rolling his eyes.

“I think Gray Turtleneck doesn’t want anything to do with Blue Sweater anymore.”

Jongin’s gaze didn’t falter; neither did his determination.

“Blue Sweater wants to make amends for the hurt he’s caused.”

“Gray Turtleneck has long forgiven Blue Sweater and has moved on. Now, he just wants to live his life. In peace. Alone.” Jongdae placed great emphasis on the last word, shooting Jongin a challenging look

A tense silence reigned over them. Neither backed down from the staring contest, but Jongin broke the silence first.

“You believe in second chances.”

The statement was uttered so softly, Jongdae almost didn’t catch it.

“I do,” Jongdae agreed. He saw a light of hope gleam in Jongin’s eyes but quashed it right away with his next words: “But some people don’t deserve second chances because it’s not worth the anguish. Sometimes we just have to be content with the way things have played out and live with the unanswered questions.”

The treacherous clench of his heart at the deep dejection marring Jongin’s face was what prompted Jongdae to stand up and leave. He couldn’t stand sitting there a second longer, not when he felt his defenses crumbling bit by bit. He couldn’t allow this, not after everything he’d done in trying to forget him.

“Sorry—oh, hey.” Baekhyun had bumped into him outside of the café. “Where were you—is that Jongin?”

Jongdae dragged Baekhyun away by the wrist. “Don’t ask.”

“Wrong answer.” Changing a topic when Baekhyun was interested only meant more follow-up questions until he would be annoyed to death and eventually gave in.

“We weren’t playing catching up, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Jongdae said, releasing Baekhyun.

Baekhyun fell into step with him. “No shit. He looked like you gave him a death sentence.”

Jongdae might as well have, replaying the scene in his mind, but he convinced himself it was for the best.









Jongdae climbed out of the cab and stretched his arms above his head. Junmyeon had insisted on giving him plane tickets for his Busan trip, but he declined and stood by his decision of taking the train. He’d been flying in planes since befriending the cousins, and while it did promise more conveniences, he wanted something different for a change. The train was a refreshing substitute; he could enjoy the various sceneries flashing by the windows he normally wouldn’t see if he was on a plane.

He punched in the passcode of the private beach house owned by Junmyeon’s family. Junmyeon and Hyerim had flown off to their honeymoon last week, breaking the long upheld tradition among three childhood friends spending summers together. Jongdae didn’t mind spending the summer alone. He could use it to churn out a few lyrics set to the tunes of the demos in his backlog. Junmyeon had a studio installed just for him to aid him in his work. It didn’t possess the coziness of his home studio, but it would suffice.

He settled in the guest room he’d always used during his visits, unpacking his belongings and making the space his own once again. He could tell Junmyeon had ordered for a clean-up in advance as everything was spotless.

He heard the shrill beep of the main door unlocking. He headed out, knowing it was Mrs. Kwon, the Kim family’s trusted caretaker in Busan. He’d missed her over the past year, especially her cooking. Just the thought of it put a smile to his face.

The same smile slipped completely at the sight of an excited Mrs. Kwon chatting animatedly with Jongin.

“Oh, Jongdae, you’ve arrived!” Mrs. Kwon rushed forward and enveloped him into a warm hug. “I thought you’d arrive together with Jongin.”

Jongdae forced out a laugh at her words, eyes trained on Jongin’s still form. “I didn’t know he planned to come.”

“Hyung is right,” Jongin agreed, face carefully blank as he approached, and only then did Jongdae notice the suitcase he had in tow.

He wanted to deny the truth about the suitcase, but reality dropping it on his lap unannounced meant he had no choice but to suck it up and deal.

Mrs. Kwon nodded, smiling. “It will be a little lonely without Junmyeon, but you two are close, so I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”

“Why are you here?” Jongdae asked immediately the moment Mrs. Kwon left for the kitchen.

Jongin gave Jongdae a strange look. “Is it weird to stay in the beach house our family owns?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

Jongin expelled an exhausted-sounding sigh. “I’m upholding tradition, like what I used to do before… Anyway, you shouldn’t be too surprised seeing me here—it’s what we used to do, remember?”

“I don’t know how you can pretend to act like you never disappeared and expect things to be back to normal,” Jongdae retorted. “It’s not that easy.”

“I know, hyung. I know that very well,” Jongin said, running a hand through his hair in thinly-veiled frustration. “I know you’re angry, and I won’t hold it against you. I wasn’t joking when said I wanted to make amends, but how can I do it when you keep shooting down my attempts?”

“You want to make amends? All right, I’ll give you a chance.” Jongdae folded his arms across his chest, leveling Jongin with a challenging stare. “Let’s start by clarifying the root of our breakup. Tell me: why did you leave two years ago?”

Jongin’s face stiffened. Jongdae could hear the cogs of his mind whirring in the ensuing silence.

Jongin turned his head away, remorse visible on his features.

“I can’t tell you, hyung. I’m sorry.”

Jongdae closed his eyes and took several calming breaths. Speechless, enraged, but saddened that even with an amount of time being absent in each other’s lives Jongin still couldn’t trust him enough with whatever it was he refused to share, he shook his head and retreated back into his room.









Avoiding Jongin required little to no effort. Jongdae would wake up extra early so he wouldn’t have to see him at the breakfast table. Jongin never being an early riser helped. Jongdae would stock up on snacks in the recording studio so he wouldn’t have to step out for long periods of time. He never locked the studio door, but he learned to do it now in case Jongin had the nerve to barge in. Good thing Jongin seemed busy with whatever he was doing with his time, so he seldom encountered him in the house.

Jongdae had a productive two weeks so far, writing lyrics to the demos Yixing and Chanyeol sent him. Their team been contacted by a famous entertainment company to work on their soloist’s comeback slated for winter, or maybe spring if schedules changed. It was difficult setting a time to sit down with them and discuss creative content when they were in different time zones, but Skype made it possible.

He hadn’t seen Jongin once, despite living under the same roof. Not that it concerned Jongdae, but he would rather have it this way until the end of his stay.

Fate didn’t grant him that when he wandered into the kitchen to retrieve the bottled water he’d refrigerated and forgotten.

He didn’t expect to see the bottle half-empty, which Jongin probably used to make his favorite pink lemonade he was currently drinking.

Startling at the unexpected sight of Jongin, he lamented the loss of his bottled water but decided to buy one himself. He slinked out of the kitchen, hoping Jongin wouldn’t notice his presence—

“Hyung?”

Jongdae flinched, freezing in his tracks. Resigning to this outcoeme, he faced Jongin and said, “Don’t mind me, I just wanted bottled water.”

Surprise and guilt stole across Jongin’s face. “Was this yours? Sorry, hyung, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, it’s just bottled water,” Jongdae interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll just head out and buy another one.”

“Can I come with you? I want ice cream,” Jongin said, blinking hopeful eyes at him.

Jongdae should say no, knew it was the most logical response, but Emart wasn’t too far from the house, and he didn’t want to come off as an irrational ex. He’d moved on already, an Emart trip wouldn’t—shouldn’t—mean anything.

Jongin must’ve interpreted his silence as rejection because he said, looking meek, “Sorry, I must’ve assumed we’re okay now and—it’s okay, I’ll just go by myself or ask Mrs. Kwon—”

“The bikes are in the garage. I’ll meet you there in five.”

Jongdae honestly wondered how many more of his heart’s traitorous acts he would have to endure as it pounded in earnest to Jongin’s megawatt smile.

Riding bikes to Emart was one of the childhood pastimes they’d never grown out of. Together with Junmyeon, they’d race each other to certain destinations. The winner would have the privilege of choosing their snacks for the day and who would pay.

They grabbed what they needed and headed out. Jongdae placed his purchases in the basket attached to the front of the bike when a Melona ice bar was thrust into his direction.

Jongin said nothing more in offering the treat, but the expectant glint in his eyes was hard to miss.

Jongdae accepted the ice cream, tips of their fingers brushing just so on the contact that had his heart racing again.

Jongin’s face lighting up worsened it.

They ate their ice creams in complete silence at the gazebo across the street. Summer’s sweltering heat caressed their skin with its humid fingers, leaving them sweaty and stuffy in their shirts and shorts. People took full advantage of the beaches to beat the heat or hit the malls to take full advantage of the free air conditioning, among other methods.

Jongdae wasn’t an exception. He spent some of his breaks taking a dip if he needed a recharge, the only difference being the beach was just a stone’s throw away from the house. Perks of being friends with millionaires, he guessed.

Jongdae didn’t mind the silence between them, despite their history. He was left without anything to do once he’d consumed his ice cream but stare at the landscape comprised of tall buildings and the patches of sea he could see between the gaps. Beside him, Jongin was still busy eating, but the nervous energy radiating off him told Jongdae what he really felt.

“You don’t have to worry about me leaving you here,” Jongdae assured, making Jongin look at him. “Take your time.”

“You might be busy. I don’t want to hold you back,” Jongin said, sounding as timid as he looked.

“I’ve written a lot today. I can take it easy.”

Jongin nodded, the tension bleeding from his body as he relaxed.

Zooming cars and people’s chatter occupied the silence as the minutes passed by. Jongdae finally caught up to his social media updates,

“I’m sorry,” Jongin said.

Jongdae glanced at him. “You don’t have to apologize for being a slow eater.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Jongin paused, allowing the silence to hang heavy between them.

Repeated: “I’m sorry.”

Jongdae expelled a long breath, taking profound interest on the wooden beams so he wouldn’t have to look at Jongin. He didn’t need to look to know Jongin was staring, the burden of his apology weighing down on his chest.

Baekhyun’s words about closure returned full force. Maybe all this time, a part of Jongdae held onto the hope he’d have his answers no matter how long it took. He’d just have to coax it out of Jongin, aware of how cagey he could be about some of his affairs.

“If you’re really sorry as you keep repeating to me, why did you disappear from the face of the Earth two years ago? Do you expect me to believe you just woke up one day and decided to leave everything behind so you could go to America? I’d like to buy that story, but I have a hard time believing it. You just aren’t that type of person.”

Something unreadable flashed across Jongin’s face as he remained quiet for the next minute.

“I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’m sorry lashing out on you on the last night we saw each other. You are the most understanding person I’ve met—the kindest, too—so when I said you weren’t, that was my anger speaking. Apologizing a thousand times won’t suffice, but I really am.

“And I know apologizing a thousand times more for saying I can’t tell you why I disappeared won’t cut it, but… I really can’t tell you, hyung. As much as I want to, I can’t.”

The pain coloring Jongin’s voice was palpable as it was heartbreaking. Witnessing it took Jongdae back to the time of their breakup when painful words had been thrown at each other until their breaking point; when Jongdae tried to get answers from the unexplained changes in Jongin’s behavior and the oddness he exhibited in each passing day.

Jongdae hadn’t tasted this sort of disappointment since Jongin refused to answer the first time, two years ago.

He loathed it.

“You expect forgiveness when you can’t tell me what I should be forgiving you for?” Jongdae asked, voice cracking at the last word. “Don’t you think it’s selfish of you to ask for something unreasonable?”

His voice rose in volume as did his temper, and it took clenching his hands into fists to remind him not to snap, remain calm, even if the rage was threatening to spill over.

Jongin’s eyes went wide, panic drawn on his features as he hurriedly said, “I’m not really expecting you to forgive me, but—”

“But what?” Jongdae snapped. “But nothing, Jongin, and maybe I shouldn’t have expected anything.”

He stood abruptly, roughly wiping at his eyes before the tears could stray down. Heaved at the excruciating ache in his chest. He glared at a pained-looking Jongin, whose eyes were rimmed red, eyes glassy from unshed tears.

“You said I was the most understanding person you’ve met, but you’re wrong. I’m not. I don’t understand why you can’t answer a simple question. I don’t understand why I expected a different outcome by asking a second time. But I’m done. I’m just wasting my time waiting for an answer that will never come.”

Jongdae spun around and marched back to their bikes, not sure if his throat was clogged from the cloying sweetness of the ice cream or the hundred emotions clawing their way out.









Junmyeon’s frown was the first thing Jongdae saw after accepting his video call.

“What happened between you and Jongin?” Junmyeon asked straightaway.

“Hi, hyung, so glad you could take your time off from your honeymoon to scold me,” Jongdae sassed, not caring to smile or be his usual chipper self.

Junmyeon shot him a warning glare, but it didn’t last as he sighed. “Jongin told me what happened a few days ago.”

Jongdae nodded but said nothing.

“I can’t blame you for reacting the way you did—you do have every right to hear the truth. But in Jongin’s defense, I vouch for what he’s told you. He really can’t answer your question.”

“Ah, why are the both of you like this?” Jongdae groaned alound, and Junmyeon almost looked apologetic for what he’d said. “What is with your family and secrets? If I wasn’t childhood friends with the both of you…” He jutted out his lower lip,

“You wouldn’t be where you are now…?” Junmyeon tried to joke.

Jongdae laughed.

He didn’t deny it, though. Had Junmyeon not seen his notebooks upon notebooks filled with lyrics and encouraged him to send in one for a competition sponsored by a big entertainment company during their college days, Jongdae wouldn’t have won the contest that paved the way to his career as a hit songwriter today.

Junmyeon’s laughter faded into a snort. “It’s understandable where your anger is coming from. If it happened to me, I’d have held a grudge, too. It’s not my place to tell you what you should do; whether you forgive him or not is your choice. Just know you’re both important to me, and it will never change regardless of your decision.”

Jongdae was quiet for a moment, taking his words in. “It’s hard, you know? When Jongin started acting strangely before we broke up, and he couldn’t tell me why—I guess it’s the dormant infuriation catching up now that I’ve seen him again. But I’ll try. It might take some time for me to completely accept my questions will never be answered, but I’ll really try.”

Junmyeon provided welcome distraction by talking about their honeymoon in Maldives. Jongdae even had the luck to talk to Hyerim, who came into the frame after seeing Junmyeon busy with his laptop.

Jongdae sent some modified lyrics to Yixing and Chanyeol and called it a night. His mind had been cleared from Jongin-related thoughts, but probably not enough to extinguish them as he’d had a fitful sleep from flashes of their recent argument leaving him sapped of energy in the morning.

It continued for several nights until sleep had completely evaded him at one point. He tossed and turned, but his mind was too awake for bed. Jongdae wondered if he’d had a decrease in melatonin or needed an earlier bedtime.

Huffing from his inability to fall asleep, Jongdae headed to the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea.

He fell into temptation in the form of Shin Ramyun stashed away in the cupboard.

Minutes later, he was waiting for the water to boil. He nearly tore open the seasoning pack with too much force at the sudden address by none other than Jongin himself.

“Kim Jongin, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Jongdae scolded, clutching at his chest to try and calm his racing heart.

“I could ask you the same thing—I thought a thief had broken in!” Jongin answered back, surprise mixed with annoyance on his face.

“In what world would a thief break in to cook ramyun in the kitchen of their victims?” Jongdae retorted, shooting Jongin a look of disbelief.

They locked gazes for five more seconds and burst out laughing together.

Jongdae tossed in the noodles when the water began boiling. He looked over at Jongin, who was mixing pink lemonade into a glass of water. It didn’t register the first time, but he noticed Jongin’s hair was wet. He must be fresh out of the shower and hadn’t dried his hair properly. Among the three of them, Jongin favored night swims better, spending more time building sandcastles during the day and watched him and Junmyeon enjoy the water with a grumpiness Jongdae couldn’t figure out.

“Do you want to share?” Jongdae asked, pointing to the pot of newly-cooked ramyun. He wasn’t sure what pushed him to dole out an invitation, but he felt it was the right thing to do after weeks of irrational avoidance and petty squabbles.

Shyly, Jongin nodded.

They sat opposite of each other and shared a pot between them. The kitchen’s atmosphere was filled with sounds of noisy slurping and the clinking of utensils.

Once the food was gone, Jongdae set his chopsticks aside and said, “I still want an answer to my question.”

Jongin visibly tensed, face conflicted. “Hyung…”

“I will never stop wanting an answer because I have a right to know. You owe me that, at least,” Jongdae said, pushing on. He’d thought about it in the past days whenever his mind wasn’t preoccupied with work, and he wanted this out once and for all so he could finally have some peace with and for himself. “But I also understand you must not be prepared to tell me now, or maybe you don’t know how to tell me yet. And it happens.”

Jongdae sighed, scratching his nape. “I guess what I’m saying is that I won’t be pushy for answers again. I can’t do anything about my curiosity, but what I can do is give you the time you need. If you think you’re prepared enough to tell me everything, I’ll be right here.”

The gradual unfolding of relief and happiness showed on Jongin’s face. Seeing it had Jongdae smiling, too, as the last of his annoyance toward Jongin and the matter disappeared. Maybe not forever, as the shadow of unanswered questions would continue lurking in the back of his mind, but he could ignore it for as long Jongin needed.

Jongin looked moved and close to tears. “Thank you so much, hyung. Thank you. See, I was right. You are the most understanding and kindest person I’ve met. Someday… someday, you’ll know the truth.”

Jongdae went to bed light in the chest and warmth encompassing him.

Sleep came easy to him that night, and for the subsequent nights.









“Who are you, and what have you done to Kim Jongdae?”

Jongdae barked out a short laugh. “I don’t know what you mean, but please; feel free to enlighten me.”

On his laptop screen was an open Skype window for video call; on the other side sat Baekhyun in the comfort of his room, messy hair sticking out in different directions and messier sheets surrounding him. He had the rare day off, but he would be back to work the next day to start rehearsing for his comeback showcase.

“The lyrics you sent me the other day—why do they sound so happy?” Baekhyun asked, sounding surprised still.

“What—I can’t write lyrics depicting happiness now?” Jongdae teased.

“Your standard fare in the past two years had been pain and anguish. Heartrending lyrics. Lyrics that make you want to curl up in bed and bawl your eyes out. Lyrics that draw out your inner masochist by making you reminisce about times you can’t get back. In short: not happy.”

Jongdae snorted. “What’s wrong about writing something different? I still have your favorite heartrending lyrics stashed away, but the well’s running dry as of late. I have to try writing about other things. Heartbreak won’t always put food on the table.”

“So says the one who produced monster hits in the past two years by stabbing people right where it hurts,” Baekhyun retorted this time, causing Jongdae to laugh.

He supposed the monetary compensation for his broken, aching heart at the time was well worth it and at the same time surprising. When his team had been contacted to create a song for this or that music figure, he didn’t think much of it and did his part in penning lyrics to demos. Come release date, he’d always be surprised the songs he’d written for would top charts on popular streaming sites, never mind some of them weren’t the promotional tracks in the album.

“Don’t be too shocked if I have more variety in the future.” Jongdae chanced a glance at the time from the bottom corner of the screen. “Oh, hey, I have to cut this short. I have to meet up with Jongin.”

“Jongin?” Baekhyun exclaimed in his bafflement. Suddenly he looked more alert than he was minutes ago. “Did I hear that right? Jongin? Kim Jongin? The same Kim Jongin you tried so hard to get over?”

“Yeah, that Kim Jongin.”

Baekhyun waved his hand in the air, as if it could help him conjure the words he wanted to say. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Okay, what’s going on; why are you suddenly friendly with the ex you cursed to hell and back?”

“A lot,” Jongdae answered, which was true. “A lot has happened since the last time we talked, and it had me reconsidering some of my stances. Stop looking at me like that—I’m not taking him back. It’s… it’s complicated.”

They managed to stay amicable after working their way around the weird tension between them. Jongdae no longer avoided Jongin if he saw or bumped into him, nor did he shoot down any of his attempts at conversation. Mrs. Kwon had been shocked, too, when she saw them eating breakfast at the same time. They still spent most of their time apart, with Jongdae in his studio and Jongin minding his own business, but they’d been hanging out more together, taking their time in getting used to each other’s company again.

Most of their outings never involved a lot of talking. Jongdae would sing and Jongin would listen, but the lapses of silence wouldn’t be as strained compared to before.

Just like old times.

Jongin’s casual invites for ice cream at Emart grew in number in the passing days. He’d also buy new snack items on his way home for Jongdae to try, .

Just like old times, too.

Jongdae wasn’t sure if he should like it, or even encourage it.

Ten minutes later, Jongdae took the bus and alighted in front of a nondescript commercial building. Jongin had asked him to meet up before grabbing samgyetang to commemorate chobok, the first hottest day of summer. He rode the elevator to the third floor; walked out and into a corridor lined with floor-to-ceiling windows covered with blinds from the inside and people seated on the benches provided opposite of it. If Jongdae strained his ears, he could hear the muffled sound of soft, classical music playing in the room.

The music stopped; in five minutes, the door at the end opened. Children aged four to seven in leotards and tights swarmed out of the room and hurried to their parents, babbling on excitedly about the cool things they’d learned in ballet class today.

The corridor had been empty for some time when Jongin came out, but he wasn’t alone. He was talking to the mother of a five-year old boy, who held her son’s hand as she listened to Jongin. They exchanged laughs, and the little boy waved shyly in goodbye at Jongin before leaving. Jongin watched them with a grin, surprise showing when he saw Jongdae.

“So,” Jongdae said, striding up to Jongin, “this is what you’ve been doing since you arrived?”

Jongin smiled and nodded. “Junmyeon-hyung informed me of an opening for a ballet teacher who could conduct summer classes, so I applied and got the job. Were you waiting long? I’ll just get dressed change.”

Seeing Jongin in his training outfit brought back memories of their younger selves, back when Jongdae had been invited to watch his very first recital and never missed any of his shows in the coming years; when Jongdae had seen, for the first time, the brightness in Jongin’s eyes unrivaled as he moved across the stage with the smoothness of water, carefully-crafted movements stealing breaths and hearts; when Jongin had landed the major role in The Nutcracker for a school production, and how Jongdae had ascertained during the curtain call that he belonged to the spotlight.

When Jongin had hugged him so tight after Jongdae had congratulated him backstage, and the confession he’d given on the walk home.

“Don’t you miss it?” Jongdae asked as they made their way down. “Don’t you miss the stage? Dancing?”

“I do,” Jongin said, no hesitation in his voice. “I miss everything about dancing. I’ve received offers from Korea National Ballet to return. Other ballet companies overseas have also contacted me and expressed interest in recruiting me.”

Jongdae sensed the unspoken “but,” so he kept quiet and waited for Jongin to continue.

“You’re right: I would never give up on dancing on a whim when it has always been my dream,” Jongin continued, pausing to guzzle the pink lemonade from the bottle he’d procured from his bag. “But do know that I never give up something out of my own volition.”

Jongdae’s brows furrowed. What could have pushed Jongin to surrender dancing—his greatest passion—against his own will? He itched to know, but it would mean straying back to the sensitive topic of the mystery behind his disappearance, and he had already given his word of waiting for Jongin to volunteer the information at his own time.

Instead, he bumped his arm lightly with Jongin’s and said, smiling, “I know.”

The hearty meal of samgyetang rejuvenated them and helped them cool down. Exiting the restaurant, they passed by a few shops with no real destination in mind, only stopping when someone called out Jongin’s name.

“Heavens, it is you!” A woman in her fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a plump figure approached them, unveiled surprise lining her face as she drew close.

“Hello, Mrs. Choi. Long time no see,” Jongin greeted with a bow, chortling as he gave Mrs. Choi a hug.

Formerly one of Junmyeon’s family’s neighbors before moving houses, Mrs. Choi was an affable woman who treated them like her own grandchildren since their younger days. If Mrs. Kwon was busy with errands or needed extra hands in the kitchen, Mrs. Choi was always ready to help out.

She also baked for them sometimes. Junmyeon was especially fond of her treats, sweet tooth always satisfied with whatever she whipped up.

Pulling away, Mrs. Choi took a good look at Jongin, cooing in approval. “I haven’t seen you in a long time! Junmyeon said you went to America? What have you been eating there that you came back so handsome?”

A hint of red stained Jongin’s his cheeks as he chuckled.

Two barks snatched everyone’s attention, coming from the Maltese sitting beside Mrs. Choi. Jongin let out an excited squeal as he knelt down and petted the dog. It rested a paw on Jongin’s knee, and then another.

“Is this Haru? He’s so cute!” Jongin gushed and laughed when Haru jumped into his lap and awarded him with several licks to the face.

Jongdae smiled at the scene. Perhaps two years never changed Jongin’s love for dogs. Jongin usually volunteered to walk Haru in Mrs. Choi’s place as an excuse to spend more time and play with him. Jongdae and Junmyeon would tag along on these walks; though after getting together, Jongin had taken to just taking Jongdae with him. In return, Mrs. Choi would reward them with a basket of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies Junmyeon would monopolize, sparking childish arguments between him and Jongin about earning your keep.

“Does Haru still try to run off on your walks?” Jongdae asked Mrs. Choi after exchanging hugs.

“He does. I don’t know why he keeps doing it—maybe he wants to go on an adventure unsupervised, or thinks the world out there is better than what he’s limited to seeing when I take him for walks.” Mrs. Choi sighed, though she looked fondly at Haru.

They talked for a while, catching up on each other’s lives. Mrs. Choi asked Jongin about what did in America for the past two years.

“Soul searching,” was Jongin’s answer.

Jongdae took everything he had not to raise a skeptical eyebrow.

Mrs. Choi nodded her head, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “At least you came home in time for Junmyeon’s wedding.”

“I almost thought I wouldn’t make it, but I guess fate had other plans,” Jongin said, smile as mysterious as his answer.

“So when will it be you guys’ turn to get married?” Mrs. Choi asked, gesturing to both of them. “You’ve been sweethearts since forever, have you thought about it?”

Jongdae and Jongin startled simultaneously at the direct question.

“We actually—”

“—haven’t thought of it yet,” Jongin interrupted Jongdae, plastering on the smile he reserved for uncomfortable situations. “We’re taking our time. We don’t want to rush things.”

Jongdae wasn’t sure if he should scowl or laugh at the excuses Jongin was spewing.

Mrs. Choi nodded in understanding. “That’s good. It took Junmyeon a few years before he settled down, right? Oh, but good thing you’re back now; Jongdae here won’t be lonely anymore.”

Jongdae bristled. “I-I wasn’t lonely,” he said right away, hoping his chuckle didn’t hint at his nervousness.

“Oh, dear, you don’t have to be shy to me about it. I’ve watched you boys grow up, so you’re like the sons I never had.” Mrs Choi looked at Jongin. “In the summers you’ve been gone, I’d see Jongdae walking around by himself looking lost in thought and so sad it hurt my heart watching him. He must’ve missed you terribly.”

Jongdae spluttered, struggling to come up with an excuse to refute Mrs. Choi’s statements. The distinct, unwanted heat of his cheeks and Jongin’s meaningful stare further worsened his flustered state.

Neither of them said a word on the way home. Jongdae’s cheeks hadn’t cooled down one bit. Jongin shooting glances at him on occasion wasn’t helping, either.

Jongdae could think of nothing but salvation once they’d passed through the main door of the beach house, impatient in confining himself in his room so he could sort his thoughts.

“Was Mrs. Choi telling the truth?” Jongin’s question stopped him on the way.

Jongdae murmured a short prayer for mercy as he turned around to face Jongin with great reluctance.

Jongin shook his head, as if realizing a mistake. “What am I talking about—of course you’d have been sad.”

“I was,” Jongdae admitted. No use denying the truth. “It’s a natural response when the person you loved disappeared after ending on bad, ambiguous terms and no full closure. But I’ve given myself time to be sad, and then headed toward overcoming it.” With a small, shaky laugh, he added, “It was a good experience, no matter how painful, I’ll admit. I was able to capitalize on my heartbreak and churned out one song after another. My team members were kind of scared at the speed in which I worked.”

“‘Loved?’” Jongin asked, voice barely above a whisper, but concentrated with all the pain that gutted Jongdae when he heard it. “Have I caused you so much pain and sadness you’ve had a complete change of heart?”

The question was asked so innocently, so heart-wrenchingly Jongdae couldn’t get any words out past the knot in his throat. Not when the constricting in his chest rendered him incapable of speech or normal breathing. Not when the wounds he’d worked hard into healing had reopened and bled anew.

“Have I—have I turned you into this person who would never open his heart to me ever again?” Jongin asked, his voice stained with unshed tears.

Jongdae closed his eyes, ignoring the painful squeeze in his chest. His mind had been wiped clean from coherent thought. So many words rested heavy on his tongue but remained trapped in his mouth, threatening to suffocate him.

By the time he’d decided on an answer, Jongin was gone.









How was it possible to take one progressive step forward then retreat five steps back? Jongdae mulled over this as he tore off the notebook page he’d been writing on and crumpled it.

He’d been trying and failing to come up with lyrics, but his mind had taken to wandering with no intention of returning. He wouldn’t have minded much, but the places it chose to visit reminded him of too-awkward mealtimes if he and Jongin happened to be eating at the same time, and the double efforts exercised in staying away from each other.

He thought they were getting better, but one word was all it took to shake the foundation of the relationship they tried so hard to mend.

Irritated with his lack of answers, he reached out for a snack from the bag beside him but grasped empty air. He cursed at his forgetfulness in stocking up. He migrated to the kitchen in search of snacks to tide him over. He opened a cupboard and saw several packets and jars of powdered beverages. His hunger pangs quieted as they were replaced by the urge to drink something sweet.

Mrs. Kwon returned from the market. Jongdae helped her carry her purchases and set them down on the island counter. She noticed the open cupboard and asked, “Was there something you were looking for?”

“I wanted something sweet to drink, so I was searching for pink lemonade.”

“We don’t have pink lemonade,” Mrs. Kwon answered, though her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Are you sure? Jongin was drinking it this morning. He’s been drinking it since he arrived. Isn’t it one of his favorite drinks? He’s been drinking pink lemonade since we were kids,” Jongdae said, now more confused than Mrs. Kwon.

But Mrs. Kwon shook her head. “Jongin never asked me to buy pink lemonade. Perhaps you could be mistaken? Maybe it’s one of those carbonated drinks with artificial coloring?”

Though Jongdae had nodded his head in acquiescence, a part of him remained mystified. He couldn’t blame it on his eyesight; he was dead sure the beverage Jongin was drinking was colored pink.

He continued pondering over it on his trip to Emart. He tossed some of his favorite snacks into the basket and searched for his own pink lemonade. Too bad Emart only carried the generic orange juice and other sweet drinks, so he settled for apple yogurt milk.

The same apple yogurt milk Jongin happened to like, Jongdae noticed belatedly, remembering the time he wouldn’t drink anything else after it had been introduced to him. Jongdae was impartial to the taste, but he always bought a couple of cartons for Jongin.

Jongdae sighed in exasperation at himself. Even during a rough patch, the littlest things would always have a connection to Jongin.

He prepared to leave, but the loud, distressed call of Mrs. Choi stopped him.

“Have you seen Haru pass by? He slipped through the gate when I opened it to get the mail,” Mrs. Choi said in between gasps of air, red in the face and perspiration filming her skin.

Jongdae helped out in the search for Haru, trying his luck in the usual places. He didn’t have a leash with him, but he was one of the people Haru willingly listened to and followed who wasn’t part of Mrs. Choi’s family. He ignored the stinging heat of the sun on his skin and the sweat rolling down his back as he scoured public places, double checking narrow spaces that Haru could fit into.

He came up empty-handed after half an hour of searching. Jongdae listed the places he hadn’t checked, an epiphany coming to him.

He pedaled twice as fast on his return to the beach house. He left his bike by the gate and dashed the rest of the way to the beach, calling out Haru’s name. He should’ve looked here first, remembering too late Haru’s habit of digging up the dirt beneath the chain link fence until he could sneak himself in and enjoy the water. It was how they met Haru for the first time; they had been surprised to see a dog barking at the receding waves, but Jongin was adamant in avoiding the sopping wet Haru that seemed drawn to him and followed him as an attempt in befriending him.

Jongdae found Haru barking at a scuttling crab. He called out to Haru, who looked up and at him before bolting.

“Haru, don’t run away! Be a good boy and listen to me!” Jongdae whined, giving chase.

He had been so focused on keeping his eyes trained on Haru for fear of losing sight of him he hadn’t realized how far they’d ran—until he stopped to take in his surroundings and realized they’d reached the cliff located at the far end of the property.

Jongdae’s legs refused to move, rooting him to the spot. He could only watch in panic as Haru darted all the way to the edge.

He, too, had been fearless once upon a time, always venturing here before Junmyeon’s family had bought the property and treated it as his secret playground. He came and left as he pleased in spite of his mother’s numerous warnings. Standing on the cliff edge had given his young self a sense of exhilaration, like he was standing on top of the world, unmindful of the lurking dangers in the form of loose rocks and the possibilities of losing balance.

His mother’s warning had been the last thing he had thought of when his footing had slipped one day and fell into the water below. He hadn’t learned how to swim properly yet at the time. Thankfully, Junmyeon had been playing nearby and saved him from drowning, signifying the start of a friendship spanning for more than a decade.

Jongdae still wasn’t the greatest swimmer at his current age. Worst case scenario, he’d have to dive in and save Haru if he fell.

Haru reached the cliff edge, daring to peek down at the perilous waters.

Jongdae approached with caution, not wanting to scare Haru or surprise him, chanting in his head for him not to move any further.

Haru must’ve sensed him because he turned to look, wagging his tail and barking twice but stayed on his spot.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me, but please, please don’t move any further,” Jongdae pleaded, inching closer.

Haru merely tilted his head in question, and then turned again for another peek.

Adrenaline pumping double time in his veins, Jongdae swallowed and hurried over. Erasing the remaining distance with two giant steps, he swooped in and took Haru in his arms.

Except he overlooked the small, flat and only realized he’d stepped on it when he was losing balance and falling down the cliff.

The unexpected plunge loosened his hold on Haru and crushed the air out of his lungs, frigid waters welcoming and encasing him. He forced his limbs to move, survival the sole thing on his mind. He’d barely broken through the surface before a wave knocked him down, then another, pushing him on all sides and sending him back below to the brain-numbing cold. The lack of air supply had him opening his mouth on instinct; water flooded in and burned his throat. He thrashed in his desperate attempt at swimming upward, but he felt like he was pushing himself further down.

And then a tight grip on his arm pulled him up, up, up, surfacing with an audible gasp as his lungs demanded oxygen. Disorientation disallowed Jongdae to fully grasp what was happening; one moment he was still in the water, the next he was being dragged to the shore and made to lie on the sand. He thought he heard Jongin frantically calling his name and pleading with him to wake up, a mouth covering his own as air was blown into him.

Jongdae coughed up the water he’d swallowed after three attempts, slowly turning to his side as if to aid him in the purging.

A rough but ticklish swipe on his fingers stopped him momentarily. Haru was soaked and whimpering, seemingly concerned for him as he moved close to lick at his cheek and forehead. Jongdae took his time sitting up, pushing back the wet hair away from his eyes.

“Haru, I told you not to move any further. Now look at both of us: we look like drenched rats,” Jongdae chastised, but without seriousness. He picked up Haru and cuddled him close to his chest. “I’m glad nothing happened to you.”

“And I’m glad nothing happened to you, too.”

Jongdae turned around, this time facing a frowning Jongin.

“I—”

“What were you thinking?” Jongin yelled, making Jongdae flinch in surprise. “Do you know how dangerous that cliff is? Why do you never learn?”

Jongdae’s temper flared and snapped. “It was an accident, okay?” he yelled back. “I didn’t want this; and if Haru could talk, I’m sure he’d say the same thing! Why are you even yelling at me? You don’t even know what happened!” With some effort, he stood back on his feet, gritting his teeth. “Do you think I would endanger myself for fun—”

The rest of his words expired when his eyes strayed from Jongin’s angry countenance to the midnight blue tail covering him from the waist down.

Jongin looked away, the anger from his face fading as he said, “Mrs. Choi told me about Haru on the way home. This was the first place I thought of looking. I saw your bike. I saw you on the cliff. I thought my heart would stop when you fell. Do you know how scared I was for you?”

Jongdae could only stare flabbergasted at Jongin, talking like he was unbothered at the glaring absence of his legs. Did he, perhaps, hit his head on some rocks on the way down? Stung or bitten by a sea creature he hadn’t been aware of? He checked himself for unknown injuries; found none. He opened and closed his mouth several times in hopes of helping him understand this twisted version of reality he’d woken up to where Jongin had a tail but couldn’t came up empty-handed.

“You’re a merman,” Jongdae stated, still flabbergasted. Maybe saying it aloud and inculcating it could ingrain this bizarre fact into his head.

Jongin nodded in uncharacteristic meekness.

Jongdae motioned to his entire form comprised of human and fish. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to say, but in the end could only ask: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jongin hesitated before answering, “I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

“I really couldn’t.” Jongin sounded firm on this. “I would have told you the truth if nothing was stopping me. But now you know my secret, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Jongdae was momentarily distracted by Haru nipping at his arm.

“You should return Haru to Mrs. Choi,” Jongin advised. “Also, could you please get my drawstring bag on your way back? You can find it in my room. I’ll need it.”

Jongdae took one step back but didn’t move further.

Jongin smiled—assuring, but somewhat sad. “I’ll be right here when you come back.”

Jongdae took his word for it and left.

It took some time, but Jongdae went back with the bag in his arms. He was almost scared of seeing no one on his return; that it had all been a trick of the mind, but Jongin was indeed still there, creating quite the odd sight dressed in a shirt but with a tail.

Jongin opened the drawstring bag and produced a beaded scallop shell necklace painted with the colors of the sunset. He wore it and clutched the shell. Beams of light escaped from the narrow spaces between his fingers. His tail lit up a blinding white, fins disappearing and scales receding until human skin showed and his legs returned.

“I thought this only happened in the movies,” Jongdae commented, sitting down beside Jongin on the sand with a reasonable space between. He stared hard at Jongin’s legs, as if expecting them to transform into a tail again. He was still weirded out at this turn of events, but it weirded him out more that he was taking everything in stride. “How could you have hidden this from me?” he asked, sans heat, sans hurt.

“You were never supposed to know,” Jongin said. His eyes were filled with remorse.

The words echoed loud in the chambers of Jongdae’s mind on their walk back to the beach house.

Jongdae eyed the conch shell on the island counter with interest. Jongin picked it up and shook it. Within seconds, a rattling sound erupted from the shell, and a single pink pearl fell onto Jongin’s open palm. Jongin dropped the pearl into the tall glass of water he’d readied. It dissolved upon contact, coloring the water pink.

This was the pink lemonade Jongdae had seen Jongin drink many times since their childhood days. Jongin looked amused at the comparison, but told him he drank this solution as a temporary cure to silence the call of the sea beckoning him to return.

“Merpeople can spend time on land if they wish; however, when the sea calls them back, they cannot resist. They can put up a fight, they can take preventive measures like this”—Jongin held up the glass—“but they end up suffering from their resistance, like they’ll lose their mind if they don’t return. It’s like the only thing they can see, hear, and dream of is the sea, so the longing worsens and persists. In the end, the sea wins and takes back its people into its embrace. Always.”

The drastic change in his behavior, the breakup and withdrawal from the ballet world, his disappearance two years ago—if Jongdae connected the dots, everything made perfect sense, as outrageous as it sounded.

Jongdae watched Jongin down the pink water, fascinated and confused at once. Meeting Jongin’s questioning gaze, he said, “You know, two years ago when… I had tried coming up with all sorts of reasons for your strange behavior. You’d disappear for days, sometimes weeks. When you’d come back, it was like nothing happened. You acted the same, and when you wouldn’t answer my questions where you’ve been, I never thought much about it. I told myself maybe you had a reason. I never knew it was like this.”

“What did you think I was doing?” Jongin asked, curious. He slipped into the stool opposite from Jongdae.

Jongdae made a vague gesture with his hand. “You’d found someone else?”

Jongin shot him a withering glare.

“What?” Jongdae asked, a laugh threatening to spill in spite of the somber mood. “What else could’ve explained your mysterious disappearances? I did consider you getting caught up in something illegal, but you’d make the crappiest criminal with how clumsy and forgetful you are.”

“And you think being suspected of cheating is any better?” Jongin shot back, lips forming into a pout.

Jongdae couldn’t help himself from laughing anymore. “Okay, I’m sorry I had these wild assumptions about you. Could you blame me, though? None of our talks about the matter came to fruition; you’d always dodge or derail, and even if I pushed, I just gave in thinking you’d one day come clean about it. Look at what happened instead.”

“I disappeared for two whole months,” Jongin said, having the decency to look sheepish.

“My patience lasted as long, too,’ Jongdae added, nodding more to himself than in agreement.

The confrontation had been nothing short of pretty. Tempers had broken and clashed; hurtful words had been hurled at each other. Even if Jongdae tried to pull up the memory of that day, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint who exactly had initiated the breakup. Perhaps it was him, when he’d yelled how tired he was in understanding Jongin’s predicament—whatever it was—and not getting answers. Perhaps it was Jongin, who’d yelled back he didn’t understand, wouldn’t understand, and then walked out the apartment instead of elaborating.

Now, Jongdae understood. No amount of conch shell pearls could stop the pull if the merperson had reached their limit. Jongin had learned of it the hard way and paid the price. Spending time at sea for two years was unforeseen, as was his unexpected return to land.

“I was so surprised at the amount of time that had passed when I returned,” Jongin continued, breaking the stretch of silence between them. “Junmyeon-hyung was used to having me disappear for a couple of days, a week at most, when I was a kid and remained consistent into my teenaged years. Then I reached adulthood and my disappearances became erratic and started lasting longer. Disappearing for two years, though… Junmyeon-hyung gave me an earful when we reunited.” He chuckled. “I’ve never been so grateful for a cousin like him, and his family who took me in after I lost both parents even if they knew what I was.”

Jongdae had only seen Jongin’s parents in framed photographs, knowing so little of them except they’d passed on when he was a child. He needn’t spend a lot of time perusing the photographs to ascertain Jongin had inherited more of his mother’s features; in one photo, their smiles bore an uncanny resemblance to each other.

“Who was the merperson between your parents?” Jongdae dared ask.

“My mother,” Jongin answered, a fond smile appearing. “I’d discovered her secret by accident when I was seven. I was curious why she kept sneaking out at night and followed her to the beach. I also transformed into a merchild on the same night when I went into the water the first time. She then told me my legs would turn into a tail if sea water touched it. No wonder she took seemingly excessive measures in preventing me from going into the sea every time we came here. The shells I’m using were hers.”

Jongdae was silent for a full minute.

“Do you not see your mother when you return to the sea? Hasn’t the sea called her back?”

“She’s gone, hyung. She’s been gone for a long time.” Jongin sounded as sad as he looked when he said this.

“Did your mother pass on from natural causes, is what I meant. All you’ve told me before is that she’s passed on, but not the reason.”

“The sea took her back when my father found out she was a mermaid.”

Stunned, Jongdae could only stare wide-eyed at Jongin.

“And I’m afraid the same thing will happen to me.”

Time came to a screeching halt at those words.

“What?” Jongdae knew he’d spoken, felt his mouth move to form the syllable, but the voice sounded like it came from someone else.

“When a merperson falls in love, they cannot tell their beloved about their secret, or else they’d turn into sea foam.”

Fear ate way at Jongdae’s insides.

“But… I know your secret now. You—you’ll—”

Jongin shook his head. Ran a hand down his face, and for a split second, he looked so defeated. “I won’t turn into sea foam right away since I’m only half-merman. The human part of me will delay the process; maybe overpower it if my father’s blood is stronger.”

“Is there no way to turn you fully human?” Jongdae asked.

“There are two ways. One is consuming the mother pearl, but it was destroyed after lightning had struck it and its remnants washed away. Another is taking the heart of the person I love so I can have a complete human soul.”

Fragments of the famous fairy tale flashed in Jongdae’s mind.

“You don’t have to worry about the second method, hyung. I would rather turn into sea foam than do anything to harm you.”

Jongin placed a tentative hand on top of Jongdae’s. The touch sent jolts of warmth down his spine and felt like a direct caress to his heart. Jongdae didn’t remove his hand. Jongin curled his fingers around Jongdae’s and squeezed, and his chest clenched at the gesture.

“I’m glad you know my secret, hyung. I would have never entrusted it to anyone except you,” Jongin said, still smiling.

“How can you have the gall to smile like you didn’t just tell me you have a clock ticking?” Jongdae demanded, trying to be angry, trying to be enraged, but nothing beat the sadness that swept over him in gigantic waves.

He wanted the truth; had argued and fought with Jongin over it several times, and now he had it. Didn’t mean he liked it, or should.

“Because I don’t intend on turning into sea foam,” Jongin was still smiling, but his voice had a hard, determined edge to it. “I’ll fight. I’ll delay it for as long as I can. For you. You know me; I’d rather bend than break.”









Nonstop correspondence for work took Jongdae’s mind off of Jongin’s ordeal, spending more hours in the studio tweaking lyrics and arguing with Yixing and Chanyeol of what served as a better hook than stepping outside. Nothing unusual for Jongdae; this was the way he lived in Seoul if his presence wasn’t required in the company or studio.

Jongin took it upon himself to drag out Jongdae if he was off early in the afternoons. Their ice cream trips had resumed; now, they also visited the park because Jongin insisted Jongdae needed sunlight and fresh air, too. Jongdae suspected it had more to do in climbing the jungle gym and Jongin unleashing his inner child.

Sometimes they played in the beach building sandcastles. Jongin took great care not to set foot on wet areas. One time he wasn’t mindful of where he was stepping and transformed into a merman. Jongdae had laughed at his clumsiness and teased him about it, but appeased an annoyed Jongin by bribing him with strawberry cake.

Nights were spent swimming in the beach. Jongdae folded Jongin’s clothes and placed them atop the drawstring bag before joining him. Jongin had already gone ahead of him, fins peeking out of the water on occasion as he traversed the deeper parts.

Jongdae preferred taking swims in the morning, but the coolness of the water on his skin was a welcome reprieve from the balmy air. The summer sky was dotted with stars, winking at them from their place high above. In the years they’d known each other, these were the only times Jongdae had swum together with Jongin. Given the circumstances, he now knew why it took so long.

“I used to envy Junmyeon-hyung a lot because he could swim with you in broad daylight while I could only watch,” Jongin admitted.

They were sitting on the shoreline after having their fill of swimming. Waves rushed and retreated, the sea foam washing away the sand between Jongdae’s toes.

“I also thought you had a crush on him.”

“Seriously?” Jongdae threw his head back in laughter. “What made you think that?”

“Your eyes sparkled every time you saw Junmyeon-hyung and spent time with him,” Jongin said, petulance coating his words. The full moon provided just enough light for Jongdae to see a blush coloring his cheeks.

“I was just happy I’d found someone close to my age I could spend my summers with since my own brother had his own buddies here,” Jongdae explained, still laughing. “Besides, when I met you the first time and offered you a chocolate bar, you weren’t exactly a ray of sunshine. I had to bribe you a couple of times before you finally spoke to me. Could you blame me for preferring Junmyeon’s friendlier company when you were being difficult?”

“I was shy and didn’t know what to do or how to react accordingly, okay?” Jongin said, defensively, the color in his cheeks intensifying. “And for your information, that was the second time we met. I don’t think you remember how our first meeting went, actually.”

Jongdae’s failure at showing recognition of what he was talking about incited a sigh from Jongin.

“I knew it.”

“Tell me, then. You’ve already revealed so much, you can’t just stop there! C’mon, tell hyung!” He shook Jongin’s arm while saying this.

“I saved you from drowning the first time you fell off the cliff.”

“No way,” Jongdae said, breathing out the words in his surprise.

Though the longer he turned Jongin’s words over in his head, the clearer the old memory became. He could only remember bits and pieces after he’d fallen, but he could never forget the way his rescuer had held onto him with all their might, arms thin but strong as they headed for the surface. When he’d gained consciousness, Junmyeon was performing CPR on him and had assumed.

Jongdae should’ve questioned why Junmyeon’s clothes at the time were only damp and not soaked, but his relief in having survived overrode the peculiarities he should’ve suspected.

“I watched everything happen while I was hiding, you know. Over there.” Jongin pointed at a huge rock formation a good distance away. “I was glad you were safe, but I couldn’t show myself. I never thought I’d see you again, but you became friends with Junmyeon-hyung. I also thought I stood no chance against him since you kept sticking to him.”

Jongdae couldn’t stop a grin from forming. He bumped his shoulder against Jongin’s and said, “I didn’t know you’ve liked me that much and for so long, even if it took you years to confess.”

Jongin bumped his shoulder back, indignation replaced by a tenderness Jongdae recognized all too well. “So I have. What are you doing to do about it?”

The challenge in his words didn’t sound intimidating in the least, spurring Jongdae to smile wider. “What if I don’t want to do anything about it?”

“Good; because I don’t think I can stop liking you.”

Gone was the playfulness on Jongin’s face and in his words, the unmeasured devotion in his eyes holding Jongdae in place.

“I started liking you since the first time you talked to me. I haven’t stopped since. Not even being swept away by the sea can stop me from liking you. So when you made it clear you didn’t feel the same anymore, I thought I was too late and considered stopping.”

Jongin paused, pressing his lips into a thin line. Jongdae noticed the slight quiver of his bottom lip as Jongin blinked once, twice, eyes now glossy.

“But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it, hyung. It’s so hard. How do I stop doing something I’ve been doing for almost my entire life?”

Jongdae blinked his own eyes several times to clear his clouded vision.

The first teardrop unleashed the awaiting flood.

Jongin wasn’t any better, but even in the moonlight and with tear-stained cheeks, Jongdae thought he still looked beautiful.

Jongdae roughly wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands. “What makes you think you’re the only one who has their heart stuck in the same place, despite all the things that’s happened? I did everything to try and move on from you. Then you returned, and I’ve done nothing but second-guess myself. I was confident I’d remain unaffected, but I was wrong. I was so wrong.” A choked sound between a laugh and sob escaped him.

A single look into each other’s eyes had the inches diminishing between them as they both leaned in.

Jongin always kissed like it was the first time: sweet and gentle, but with strength of an unequaled adoration overflowing into the act itself. Jongdae couldn’t have been more fortunate to experience it firsthand, and continue experiencing it for as long as time allowed.

No words were exchanged as Jongin pulled away. Jongdae opened his arms and Jongin dove straight into his embrace, sharing body warmth and joy.

Maybe if he held Jongin tight, he could ignore the painful reality of their limited time together ticking away.

Maybe if he held Jongin tighter, he could ignore the painful reality of the sea possessing the power of taking him away without warning.









Jongdae believed in seeing the good in the bad. No matter how bleak a situation, he’d search for the sliver of hope instead of focusing on the negatives.

When writing lyrics wasn’t giving him the results he wanted or inspiration was elusive, he’d leave the unfinished drafts alone and take a walk. He’d return with a fresher mind and brimming with ideas, making it easier for him to pick up from where he left off.

When a company or artist showed lukewarm response to his team’s work, he might feel down for a while, sure, but he’d take it as leverage to work harder. Sometimes they’d gain the other party’s approval after some pushing and pulling, or find another camp who wanted the rejected output.

When Jongin hadn’t showed up after an hour like he promised, Jongdae ignored the niggling feeling poking him from the back of his mind. He chalked it up to Jongin losing track of time when he was having too much fun swimming in the water.

After dinner, Jongin had taken his drawstring bag and towel, announcing he would be heading out for a swim. Jongdae had told him to go ahead as Yixing wanted to run some demos with him. Jongin had left, but not without promising he’d drag Jongdae away from his laptop if he didn’t show up after an hour, finished or not.

It had taken an exact hour for Jongdae and Yixing to discuss which among the demos sounded the most suitable for their client. Jongin hadn’t barged in. Jongdae had thought nothing of it.

Yixing had signed off after the next hour struck. The studio’s silence had become mildly unnerving.

Casting aside his worries, Jongdae retrieved his belongings and headed out. He easily spotted the drawstring bag and towel on the usual spot—including Jongin on his hands with his tail bent on the area where he presumed his knees were if he had legs.

Jongdae hurried over and noticed the trembling of his shoulders. He peered into his face in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Jongin glanced over his shoulder. Jongdae followed.

Jongin’s fins and a quarter of his tail were gone, replaced by a shapeless, white, frothy substance.

Sea foam.

Jongdae stared, aghast, but Jongin’s grip on his shirt snapped him out of his shock.

“The bottle—hurry.”

Jongdae obeyed and unscrewed the lid. Jongin finished the pink water in two huge gulps.

The fins and tail gradually retained its solid form and blue color.

“What happened?” Jongdae asked, wiping away the liquid that spilled out from the corners of Jongin’s mouth.

“I was enjoying my swim, but I felt pain on my fins and tail. I thought I’d scraped it against a reef, so I checked, and…”

Jongin couldn’t seem to find it in him to continue, choosing instead to hold Jongdae tight against him.

Jongdae needn’t hear the rest of his explanation. His arms came up to wrap around Jongin, as if the action could stop the process that had already begun.

Nothing stayed the same after the incident.

They continued with their night swims, but Jongdae had become extra sensitive every time Jongin showed or expressed discomfort. It wasn’t unwarranted, for some nights Jongin’s tail and would turn into sea foam. Jongdae would always be quick in handing Jongin the pink water, relief spreading through his body once the melted part of the tail had reverted back to its original form.

But the more Jongin drank the pink water, the higher the sea foam crept on his tail, like an invisible, persistent mold taking more and more each time it returned as if intent on eating him whole.

Jongdae had never known true fear until tonight, when Jongin cried out from the pain from having half of his tail changing into sea foam. Recovery was swift as Jongin drank pink water right away, but Jongdae didn’t want to risk another attack and convinced him to swim tomorrow.

Neither of them said a word on their walk back. Before they could part ways to go to their respective rooms, Jongin stopped Jongdae by wrapping a hand around his wrist.

Jongdae gave him a curious glance, but it took a beat of silence before Jongin spoke.

“Can we… together…”

Jongdae picked up quick on what Jongin wanted to say. Had it been any other time, Jongdae would have teased him for the unusual bashfulness he exhibited. Now, Jongdae only gave a nod and told him he’d wait for him in his room.

Sleeping in one bed wasn’t new to both of them. Sleeping in one bed after two years, however, made Jongdae think it wouldn’t feel the same; but his doubts were unfounded when Jongin fit himself to Jongdae’s side, head resting on his chest and arms wrapped around him with the same tightness that made him ache just like the first time.

Just like the old times.

Jongdae’s hand stroked Jongin’s hair, fingers rubbing on his scalp to help lull him to sleep.

“Hyung?”

“Hmm?”

“When the time comes—”

“Shut your mouth or I’ll kick you out of my room.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” Jongin’s pout could be heard loud and clear from his sentence.

“I don’t need to. I know what you’re going to say,” Jongdae said, tightening his arms around Jongin. “You’re not leaving me. I forbid you. You still have to make up for the times you angered and upset me. If you dare leave me, I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth.”

Jongin’s chest rumbled with laughter, the vibrations felt on his side where he was pressed up against him. He burrowed closer, still laughing as he answered, “You sound like one of those scorned lovers who continue bearing grudges even in the afterlife. I don’t regret meeting and falling in love with you. I can only regret we reunited and reconciled under these circumstances; because had it been up to me, I’d choose a different course for our story.”

Jongdae closed his eyes, letting the truth in his words soak in. He didn’t like how Jongin sounded so resigned, so accepting of the inevitable, but he remained quiet and listened.

“If we have fate, we might meet in another lifetime. I’ll come find you when that happens. We might meet other people, and maybe establish relationships with them, but I’ll definitely come find you. No matter how hard it is or how long it takes.”

Jongin supported himself up on an elbow so he could lean down and kiss Jongdae.

Somehow, it almost felt like saying goodbye.

Perhaps it was, for Jongdae woke up alone in bed, the only hint of Jongin having been there was the trail of clothes that led toward and outside his open bedroom door.

Sleepiness vanishing entirely, Jongdae jumped out of bed and searched for Jongin inside the house but to no avail, panic sluicing through his veins and his heart beating furiously against his ribcage.

Dawn was coming, the sun breaking out from the horizon as its rays stretched across the once darkened heavens. Jongdae headed out and ran straight for the beach, hoping against hope it wasn’t so.

He slowed down and stopped to retrieve Jongin’s scallop shell necklace from the sand. Jongdae resumed his search, clutching the shell tightly in his hand.

He almost dropped it when he did find Jongin, naked on the shoreline, already dissolved into foam from the waist down.

Jongdae rushed was beside Jongin in no time.

Jongin’s face was scrunched up from the pain, eyes screwed shut and seemed to have lost all feeling in his body since he showed no reaction when Jongdae lifted him off the sand and cradled him tight in his arms. Jongin was still so warm and solid even if half his body was technically gone, but this wasn’t enough to console Jongdae.

“Don’t take him from me,” Jongdae said. Prayed. “Please, don’t take him from me.”

The waves rumbled on in the distance, some of them crashing into the rocks, but paid no heed to his wishes.

“You can’t take him from me!” Jongdae screamed to the waves, to the sea, even if he knew how futile it was. “I’ve only had him back for a short time—I need him more than you ever will. So, please, don’t take him away. Don’t take him away from me…”

He’d screamed himself hoarse, the last sentence tapering off into a whisper, anguish and desperation intertwining as his body was wracked with sobs.

Jongdae’s dive into despair almost made him miss the scallop shell glowing bright in his hold, successfully capturing his attention when the light became too blinding to stay unnoticed. The light was coming from inside, as if trapped within the valves of the shell and peeking out in beams.

Confused, intrigued, Jongdae opened the shell, shielding his eyes from the brightness as it disappeared.

Inside the shell sat a pearl, white in color and possessed an ethereal glow. Jongdae blinked at it several times, wondering what it was, and why it appeared now, of all times. Unsure but hopeful, he plucked the pearl from its cushiony confines and fed it to Jongin, helping him swallow by tipping his head just so.

Jongdae kept his eyes open, not wanting to blink for as long as he could in fear of missing something—anything—that might happen.

By the time they sun had fully risen, Jongin’s missing lower half had returned: flesh and blood, warm and solid.

Jongin’s eyes fluttered open, squinting at the sun before focusing on Jongdae and lifting a hand to press on his cheek. The slow spread of a smile on his face and the soft call of his name assured Jongdae that he wasn’t hallucinating; that the sea hadn’t taken Jongin away from him.

Jongin had returned to him by some sort of miracle, and the only tears Jongdae shed afterward were of happiness.









Jongdae watched Yixing in anticipation as the melancholic piano tune ended like a breathless sigh. The audible hum of his laptop seeped into the ensuing silence.

Then: “This is perfect.”

Jongdae released a huge exhale, throwing his arms in the air as he shouted a jubilant “Yes!”

“It’s amazing, Jongdae,” Yixing said, smiling. “Chanyeol and I were just discussing how this demo sounded too good to be scrapped, but you wrote lyrics for it and created a song out of it in a day.”

Jongdae reveled in the praise with an appreciative smile. “You could say I was inspired to finish it.”

“Have you been reading fairy tales as of late? The lyrics remind me a little of ‘The Little Mermaid,’ but it seems to be in the perspective of the prince, instead.”

“I don’t know about fairy tales, but the lyrics are honestly open to anyone’s interpretation.”

“Awesome.” Yixing pressed a button. The demo’s piano intro played again. “Who did you want this song to be given to, if you had the chance?”

“I’d say Baekhyun. Maybe he and the other rising soloist, Do Kyungsoo, could collaborate? I think their voices would blend well together for it. Isn’t Do Kyungsoo supposed to be coming back soon?”

Yixing nodded. “We could always approach their companies and send in a proposal.”

“I’m sure Baekhyun, the self-proclaimed number one fan, would be thrilled if it gets approved.”

“Ah, so Chanyeol has competition for the title of Do Kyungsoo’s number one fan boy.”

They shared a laugh and talked some more before Yixing bade goodbye.

Jongdae breathed in the summer breeze as he biked to Emart for his ice cream fix. He ate by himself in the gazebo, noting with pleasure the bottle green sheen of the trees making way for browns and reds. Familiar faces such as Mrs. Choi passed by with Haru, who he’d play with for a bit before they left.

His phone kept him company, finally in the mood to check his SNS accounts. He smiled, laughed, and shook his head several times at Junmyeon’s messages and photos chronicling his and Hyerim’s grand honeymoon across the globe. Jongdae wasn’t sure what time it was in Santorini—the honeymooners’ latest stop—but he sent him a message wishing them to enjoy to the fullest and stay healthy during the trip.

A cold packet was pressed against his cheek. Jongdae yelped embarrassingly loud and turned to glare daggers at a guffawing Jongin.

“You little shit!” Jongdae yanked Jongin down by the front of his shirt so he could give him a headlock.

“Hyung, you’re so mean! I bought you ice cream, but this is how you repay me?” Jongin asked, once he’d been released and they now sat side by side. He feigned hurt by scrunching up his face and rubbing at his neck. “What will you do if it leaves bruises?”

Jongdae’s mouth fell open in a scandalized gasp. “I didn’t even exert too much force! You’re such a big baby! Who told you to surprise me like that, anyway?” He laughed as he said this. “Showcase planning going smoothly?”

Jongin nodded. Summer was ending in a few weeks; so was his ballet classes, and what better way to display his students’ achievements than a showcase?

“When I’m done here, I’ll return to Korea National Ballet,” Jongin told him, smoothing back the hair from his forehead. “Working overseas is still part of my goals, but I have to pick up where I left off first.”

Jongdae’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He laughed aloud when he saw a message from Baekhyun—several, in fact. Jongdae skimmed down their chat room, smirking at the mix of random updates, selcas, the occasional reminder of telling Junmyeon he deserved a handsome reward (“Did he conveniently forget that I, Byun Baekhyun, the nation’s puppy and matchmaker extraordinaire, is the reason he and Busan’s fairy, Jung Hyerim, have tied the knot?”), and the running theme of badgering him with questions of the real score between him and Jongin.

Jongin must’ve seen the last few messages because he said, “Why don’t you tell Baekhyun-hyung the truth?”

“Not right now. I want my peace and quiet.” Jongdae pocketed his phone. “You know how nosy Baekhyun could be—he won’t stop until he’s had answers. I’ll think of something foolproof. Don’t pout at me like that—in what version of reality would you think he’d buy a story that your merman situation was the reason we broke up? We can’t even prove it anymore.”

Like Jongdae had thought, the sea had taken mercy on them by giving them a splinter of the mystical mother pearl, hidden all this time inside the scallop shell. Jongin had told him he tried prying it open several times as a child, curious of what it contained, but it had never budged. Jongin’s mother had told him the shell was sealed shut because only something more powerful than the sea and its waves could open it.

Something powerful he and Jongin shared, no doubt.

“Too bad I didn’t turn fully human with true love’s kiss,” Jongin said, eating the last of his ice cream. “I would’ve wanted one like in fairy tales.”

Jongdae burst out laughing at Jongin’s impish grin. “Well, too bad you’re not living in one.”

“Say, hyung, we haven’t played the game in a while. Winner of the most outrageous story gets a kiss.”

“What does that even have to do with fairy tale kisses? Sometimes I can’t follow your logic,” Jongdae grumbled, even as he looked for people nearby. “Picnic table to your left. The ones taking a stroll while holding hands?”

Jongin saw a couple feeding each other. “Red Dress is planning ways to tell her girlfriend she has a pet cat because she’s super allergic to them. Blue Shorts is worried about the pet dog she’s been raising behind Red Dress’ back because she doesn’t like them. They’re going to move in soon, and they’re worried their taste in animals will be the ultimate deal-breaker.”

“How did you get all of that from two girls feeding each other sandwiches?” Jongdae asked with eyebrows raised.

Jongin wagged his forefinger in the air. “Imagination. Your turn.” He looked behind them. “Emart.”

A group of teenagers shy of sixteen or seventeen. “They’ll go streaking in Haeundae Beach tonight to end their summer vacation with a bang. The one who gets caught will pay for their meals for three months.”

Jongdae didn’t even flinch when Jongin hit him on the shoulder in his laughter, chuckling himself as he looked for the next target.

“Gazebo.”

Jongin’s laughter faded to hiccups, overtaken by the slow unfurling of a beautiful smile.

“I heard they’re so in love with each other not even the sea could keep them apart.”

“Did you forget the rule of the game? We’re supposed to make outrageous stories,” Jongdae chided, mirroring Jongin’s smile.

“The only outrageous thing here is that you aren’t kissing me yet. Who cares about games or other people’s stories? We have our own story to make.”

Jongin cradled Jongdae’s face in his hands, eyes shining with mirth and tenderness.

“So how about it?” Jongin asked, voice lowering as his face drew close.

“Do you have to ask?” Jongdae asked back, and leaned in.

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