the mermaids singing, each to each ϟ bts » namjoon/jimin
the mermaids singing, each to each
bts » namjoon/jimin » nc-17
the sea will give you a gift one day and you must treasure it. mermaid au. 6382w. ao3.
✖ character death (minor), magical realism/supernatural elements
originally written for btsrarepairs
Jimin is born of seafoam and crashing waves, forged as though mother earth had meant him to be a gift all along, washing ashore. Waves had licked at his feet and Namjoon had known, finally, what his mother had meant.
⚓
Namjoon’s finger hovers over Jimin’s hand, the soft flicker of a smile playing around the corners of Jimin’s eyes, teasing in the curl of his lips. Namjoon waits until Jimin finally glances up at him, sunshine cascading over golden skin, bright brown eyes sparkling as they grin at Namjoon. He traces a lazy heart against the skin, finger light, lacking purpose, Namjoon only wanting to feel skin against skin.
Jimin spreads his hand flat against the table, let’s Namjoon turn it over, chin propped up on his other hand as he watches Namjoon. Leaning down, Namjoon presses a kiss against Jimin’s open palm, grinning as he comes up to meet Jimin’s eye.
“Namjoon,” Jimin laughs, eyes crinkling as he reaches for Namjoon’s fingers, laces them through his own, smile sweet sweet sweet. Namjoon’s heart clenches in his chest.
“Mmm?” Namjoon hums, glancing over Jimin’s shoulder. Their waitress is still busy taking another table’s order and Namjoon’s never been all that hungry in the mornings, light breakfasts serving him just right, but Namjoon knows Jimin’s starving. He squeezes Jimin’s fingers, smiling brightly when he catches the waitress’s eye. She gives him a little nod before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.
“You’re gonna spoil me,” Jimin sighs, but he’s got this softness to his eyes, this fondness that has Namjoon’s belly doing a little flip flop.
“Good,” Namjoon exclaims, foot hooking around Jimin’s ankle under the table. Jimin colours pink at the surprise, head bowing as he smiles goofily to himself, and Namjoon knows what love tastes like, how it swells on the tip of his tongue until his mouth is awash with warmth. Namjoon knows to enjoy Jimin, enjoy his secret smiles, and the sleepy flutter of his eyes, the way he catches his lip between his teeth, or hides his laugh behind a hand, shy.
“What if I get out of hand, hmm?” Jimin teases, comfortably slouched in his seat. Namjoon likes the way his hair is artfully tousled despite Namjoon’s efforts to run his fingers through it this morning, have it look a little less slept in, a little less like Namjoon had spent the night fucking Jimin to tears. It wouldn’t matter in the end, not when he’s littered hickies down the column of Jimin’s neck, skin bruised purple all the way to the jut of his collarbones. In the wide necked t-shirt Jimin’s wearing, it’s all on display and it wraps around Namjoon’s heart possessively, eyes darkening.
“You’re a good boy, you’d know better,” Namjoon murmurs, foot pulling on Jimin’s ankle until he’s got one leg trapped between his own. The diner doesn’t offer the sort of under the table discretion he needs, but then, Namjoon’s never let the risk of getting caught hold him back.
Jimin flushes a deep red at that, colour seeping down his neck until his bruises startle brighter against a backdrop of embarrassment. “Namjoon,” he intones, glancing around them. The waitress is on her way with their food.
“Did I say something wrong?” Namjoon grins, cheeky, but Jimin doesn’t have time to respond, not when the waitress is setting their plates down in front of them. Namjoon thanks her, Jimin too busy hiding his face.
“You’re the worst,” Jimin pouts once the waitress is out of earshot but Namjoon only laughs, bringing Jimin’s hand to his lips for a kiss before letting go. He thinks about feeding Jimin himself, but he’s already stuffed his mouth full of waffle, the tips of his ears still a little pink. Namjoon settles for letting him enjoy his meal, pouring maple syrup over his waffles for him.
Briefly he thinks about how good it would taste off of Jimin’s skin, but he saves that for himself, too.
⚓
Namjoon’s shrieking with laughter as his mother chases him down the shore, short legs only carrying him so far, so fast. The lighthouse is stark and white against the grey sky, the ocean quiet today, lapping at the coastline with a tenderness, a soft apology for what it will soon bring.
“Namjoon,” his mother yells after him, her voice carrying over the emptiness of the beach, not even the squawk of seagulls breaks the silence. “Namjoon, stop right now!”
He stumbles then, lands face first in the sand, old enough that crying isn’t his first response, even as his mother gasps, at his side moments later, pulling him up.
“Are you hurt, let mommy see,” she worries, brushing sand off Namjoon’s clothes, checking his skin for cuts and bruises. Namjoon isn’t hurt, save maybe for his pride, having lasted for only a short run from the house. It had taken him so long to get the necklace from his mother and now she would take it back.
She’s running her hands all over him, his face in her hands as she sighs and pinches his cheeks. “What did mommy say about misbehaving?”
“‘M not supposed to,” Namjoon answers, always a bright kid. He rubs at his cheek, pouting as his mother holds her hand out expectantly. Reluctantly, Namjoon hands her the necklace, watches her pull it over her head, hand pressed to her chest, covering the locket Namjoon’s never managed to open.
“This is mommy’s,” she says, careful and slow. Namjoon hates it when she talks to him like that. He frowns, rolling his eyes. He isn’t stupid. “Don’t act smart with me, young man.”
“Sorry mommy,” Namjoon mumbles, abashed and he doesn’t like it when she gets cross with him either, hates seeing her disappointed in him. “I just wanted to see what’s inside.”
“Mommy will show you one day, but not today,” she says, the same answer as always. Namjoon tries not to be frustrated, nodding instead. She gets up on her feet, taking Namjoon’s hand in her own as she guides him back home.
Namjoon doesn’t get to see what’s inside the locket until he is nearly twenty, his mother’s once rugged hands old and leather smooth. She places the locket in Namjoon’s hands and asks him only once, “Please, set me adrift.”
She dies in her sleep and Namjoon tells no one, has no one to tell, dresses her in her favourite sundress before placing the locket around her neck. He watches the small rowing boat carry her away, the ocean seemingly sharing in his sorrow and when she disappears on the horizon, Namjoon heads back home.
⚓
Namjoon sells books and returns home everyday to the shadow cast over his small house by the might of the lighthouse his grandfather had once operated. It’s abandoned now, and Namjoon could leave, sell the land to some company wanting to make a seaside resort but he doesn’t have the heart. His mother had loved this house, had taught Namjoon how to sail and how to fish, her strength twice that of any man Namjoon has ever met.
The wind howls behind him, waves crashing brutishly against the rocky coast, Namjoon’s clothes flapping around him in the harshness. The air is misty with wetness, the taste of salt, of home, settling on Namjoon’s tongue as he watches waves rise and fall, the sea swaying with an urgency Namjoon hasn’t seen in quite some while.
He gazes up at the lighthouse, neck craning, eyes blinking rapidly to keep the mist out of his eyes. The loud boom of water hitting rock echoes around him, Namjoon’s gaze falling away from the lighthouse, childhood memories of the twin yellow beams of light illuminating the darkness of a storm brimming behind his eyes.
The sky grows darker, brimming with an unleashed fury and Namjoon turns, knows he’d better get inside unless he wants to get drenched. There is something about the chill of the evening that unsettles him, and Namjoon rubs his arms over his shoulders, underdressed for the plummet in the temperature. He heads inside, the first drops of rain hitting the backs of his legs as he closes the door behind him.
When he wakes the next morning, the sun glistens through his bedroom window, twinkling at him warmly. Namjoon enjoys the warmth, thinks about maybe taking a walk down the beach today. It had been awhile. It’s his weekend to enjoy, the bookshop in Seokjin’s capable hands. Maybe he would visit later, he had a tendency to wander back even on his days off, mindless with nothing to do but stare at the vastness of the ocean, water sparkling in the daylight.
He manages a shower and two cups of coffee, cracks open the spine of the bookstore’s latest new arrival, some great murder mystery. Namjoon always did enjoy those. By the time he makes it outside, the sun’s properly up, glistening in a cloudless sky, stinging at Namjoon’s vision when he looks up. How strange that something so beautiful could be so painful to look at.
Namjoon glances over at the shore, eyes widening as he spots something lying on the coast. For a moment, from his distance, he thinks it’s nothing, a particularly large piece of driftwood but then he sees the thing move and Namjoon’s heart stops. His throat tightens, heart clenching fearfully in his chest.
Namjoon sprints in the direction of the body, nearly slipping down the slope of the hill as he makes his way to the sandy beach. The sand is still wet from last night’s storm, and Namjoon’s never been all that graceful, nearly slipping more than once. He stumbles the last few steps, definitely scrapes a knee as he slides down next to the body, a man, his clothes soaked right through.
“Hey, hey,” Namjoon exclaims, rolling the man over and his breath catches, heart sticking to the back of his throat with a thunderous thump. His fingers shake from the echo of the force, mouth gone dry. He’s never seen someone so breathtakingly gorgeous, feels like maybe he’s holding a piece of his own imagination in his hands. And for the first time, it sinks in, his mother’s words, as if an anchor has finally hit rock bottom.
The sea will give you a gift one day.
The man coughs, splutters water and Namjoon quickly checks for his pulse, finds it a little weak but there. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay,” he assures, cradling the man’s head as he jerks awake, eyes still shut as he breathes in deep lungfuls of air, and it’s like watching a painting come to life. The pallor of the man’s skin sinks as his cheeks blossom with pink, long eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks like flower petals.
Namjoon takes in a shuddering breath, the fullness of it expanding his lungs outward and as he breathes out, the man’s eyes flutter open. His eyes are so dark, Namjoon can barely make out where his pupils end and his irises begin.
“H-hey,” Namjoon repeats, heart rattling in his chest and he’s not sure if the adrenaline still hasn’t waned out or if his heart’s just gone haywire. There’s a tightness in his chest, almost nauseating, the man coughing out another fit of water. “How’re you feeling?”
It’s a stupid question but then again, Namjoon had found him breathing. He hadn’t expected it.
“Warm,” the man answers and it’s all Namjoon gets out of him, his confusion pushed aside as he carries the man back to his house. He’s frozen, lips still a ghastly pale, the colour in his cheeks still not quite what it could be. Namjoon notes that he doesn’t shiver, his head resting against Namjoon’s shoulder, arms curled up against his chest, eyes slipping closed.
By the time Namjoon gets him inside, he’s fallen asleep and Namjoon fretfully checks his pulse every half hour, unable to focus on anything else. There’s something mesmerizing about this man, and Namjoon’s body feels like lead. His mother’s voice rings through his head.
The sea will give you a gift one day and you must treasure it and care for it and if ever, the sea asks for her gift back, you must not let her take it. You have to fight for it. Do you understand?
Namjoon stares at the man, the sun beginning to dip, sky still as cloudless as it had been that morning. The sea had given him plenty of gifts, but Namjoon had taken none of them, carrying his mother’s words around like a chatter in his teeth.
The sun washes over the man’s skin, and Namjoon’s imagination must be running wild, the man’s skin glowing as if he were crafted by the water’s surface itself.
A gift.
⚓
His name is Jimin.
He wakes up as the sun sinks below the edge of the earth, Namjoon attempting to read, a cup of cold coffee next to him. Namjoon startles when he notices the man’s eyes on him, obsidian black. There’s a quiver in his smile, in his hands, as if Namjoon’s body is still not prepared for this.
“Hello,” the man smiles, eyes curling into little crescent moons, the shyest peak of a dimple coming through on his left cheek. Namjoon finds himself staring at the fullness of his lips, the way his skin seems to glow, cheeks rosier now.
“Hey,” Namjoon replies, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “How’re you feeling?”
“Good,” he answers, and Namjoon can’t help but notice how sweet his smile is, how lovely it is, how it makes his heart skip a beat. “I’m Jimin.”
Jimin, Namjoon repeats to himself, outwardly nodding. “Namjoon. Is there, I mean, can I get you something to eat, drink? You should probably have some water.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, already leaving to grab Jimin water and when he brings it back, Jimin’s sat upright in Namjoon’s bed. Namjoon had changed his clothes, they’d been wet and while he hadn’t minded tugging one of his own sweaters over Jimin’s head, he isn’t expecting such a wide smile from Jimin, his hand smoothing over the fabric.
“Um, water,” Namjoon offers, Jimin’s gaze falling on him once more. He takes the cup, their fingers brushing momentarily, static shock zipping between them at the touch. Namjoon frowns, even as Jimin drains the cup of water in one go, holding it in his lap. The sleeves of Namjoon’s sweater are too long, covering up his hands and he looks small sitting in Namjoon’s bed. “Do you...remember anything? I found you on the beach.”
“No,” Jimin answers, brows furrowed together.
“Were you on a boat? I mean, obviously you were, but were you alone? Do you remember where you’re from? I can call your family and let them know you’re okay,” Namjoon says, sinking back into the chair he’d pulled from his kitchen and placed next to the bed. “Not that I mind you being here,” he adds, his cheeks heating up at the confession, “but I’m sure they’re worried.”
“I was supposed to find you,” Jimin says, slowly, eyes on Namjoon and he looks otherworldly, his skin shimmering under the moonlight now trickling through Namjoon’s windows. Namjoon bites the inside of his cheek, and while a part of him had known Jimin would tell him he had no one, he still isn’t expecting this.
“Find me?” Namjoon repeats, and Jimin’s smile slips, eyes suddenly sad.
“You don’t want me?” Jimin asks. He looks like he might cry, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he does it but he immediately moves to sit down on the edge of the bed, unsure what to do next.
“No, I - Of course I want you,” Namjoon splutters, the heat in his cheeks increasing until he’s sure he’s gone visibly red. Jimin stares at him with big glassy eyes, and he’s so so pretty, Namjoon can’t believe he’s real. He finds himself wiping away a tear, Jimin’s lips curving into the smallest smile, head ducking.
Namjoon’s heart clenches, mouth gone dry, and Jimin is so warm to the touch, Namjoon wants to feel more of him. He doesn’t, takes the cup still in Jimin’s small hands, Jimin looking at him again.
“I’ll make us something to eat,” he says and Jimin nods. Namjoon can’t help himself when he stands up, brushes Jimin’s hair out of his eyes, a black even darker than his eyes but absolutely breathtaking on him. The sea had given him a gift, and Namjoon had spent his whole life waiting for this moment, waiting to treasure it as his mother had taught him.
Jimin blinks at him, eyes curling into little crescents and Namjoon’s not sure if he’s earned something so precious.
⚓
Namjoon nearly drowns when he’s five, careless in the water from so many trips out to sea with his mother and grandfather. The ocean had raised him, given him a wild touch, more adventurous than some of the children Namjoon had met, though he’d hardly met any.
He’d sat himself on the edge of his grandfather’s fishing boat, right on the rail, his grandfather busy spreading his fishing net. It was a sunny, warm day, the ocean swaying calmly, and Namjoon could still see the shore from here, daring to take both his hands off the rail, laughing.
The boat had rocked forward suddenly, the force too strong and Namjoon’s hands had shot out to grab the rail, too slow, body lunging forward. The water rushed at him, a scream tearing from his lips and he’d crashed through the water, arms flailing, panic settling in. He’d tasted salt on his mouth, gasping and sucking in a mouthful of air, the tide carrying him farther away from the boat. He remembered seeing his grandfather run from the other side of the boat, a particularly high tide pushing Namjoon down deeper into the depths of the ocean, swallowing him whole. Namjoon had struggled to swim back to the surface, eyes burning as he stared at the surface but he’d felt like something was dragging him down, further and further, breathless.
Later, when his grandfather would perform CPR, breathing life back into Namjoon, he’d remember the flicker of a tail in the water, too large for any fish swimming so close to the surface. It’s not time yet, something, someone had told him and try as he might, Namjoon couldn’t understand how he’d heard a voice underwater, his grandfather drenched as he bundled Namjoon up with a blanket, asking him if he was alright.
“Sorry, grandpa,” Namjoon had mumbled, shame colouring his voice and his grandfather, a quiet man had smoothed Namjoon’s hair back, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“The sea is a tricky beast,” he’d said, his eyes hard. “She will drown you and devour you, son, and she will not be sorry.”
Namjoon had nodded, the words forgotten over the years, Namjoon enraptured by the lull of the ocean.
⚓
Jimin takes to following Namjoon around everywhere, shuffling around behind Namjoon in the house, and curling up next to Namjoon in his bed, the hem of Namjoon’s sweaters always hiking upward to reveal the thickness of his thighs. Namjoon spends too much time staring at his bare skin, heat unfurling in his belly, want spreading through his veins like molten lava.
He’d bought Jimin some clothes that actually fit him, Jimin trailing behind Namjoon in the shop, fingers clinging to Namjoon’s wrist. And while Jimin wore the clothes that were for him when he followed Namjoon out of the house, quietly sitting in a corner of Namjoon’s bookstore, he wandered around the house in Namjoon’s too big sweaters. Told Namjoon he liked how they smelled.
His giggles light up the air every time one of the neighbourhood kids reads to him, Jimin patiently sitting with them in the shop. Namjoon appreciates the help, and the parents of plenty of the children like Jimin, think he’s kind and polite and sweet. Namjoon can only agree.
“Monsters aren’t real,” Jimin assures one little kid, her hair tied in two little ponytails, ribbon adorned near the hair tie. She looks like she might even believe Jimin, her mother browsing through the cooking section of the store. Namjoon’s wrapping up for the night, has gone around the shop to straighten everything up. He’s felt Jimin’s eyes follow him around.
“You promise?” she asks, and Jimin hums in agreement, sticks his pinky finger out and seals the deal. He’s picked that up from the kids, makes Namjoon pinky promise him things for dinner or visits into town. Jimin likes exploring. Namjoon just likes Jimin.
By the time Namjoon locks up for the night, Jimin’s grabbed both their jackets. It’s chilly in the evenings. Namjoon takes his from Jimin, silently thanking him and notices the ribbon tied around his wrist, the same pink he’d seen around the girl’s hair.
“Did someone give you a present?” Namjoon asks, amused, as his finger traces over the ribbon. Jimin always stands so close to Namjoon, smells like a fresh ocean’s breeze. He leans in, always leans in when Namjoon touches him, eyes fluttering shut.
“I think so,” he answers, all breathy and it gives Namjoon butterflies.
“It’s almost as pretty as you,” Namjoon whispers, Jimin’s eyes fluttering open and they’re black again, the cinnamon brown from earlier disappearing as the sun dips in the sky. Jimin’s smile is pleased, pink blooming in his cheeks and he is more gorgeous than anything Namjoon’s ever seen, puts the sun to shame.
Jimin lets Namjoon button his jacket up, grinning when Namjoon takes his hand in his. They walk home quietly, Jimin humming softly under his breath, his hair now a deep chocolate brown, glistening even in the evening light.
⚓
Jimin’s laughter booms in the hollowed emptiness of the lighthouse, and it’s the most beautiful thing Namjoon’s ever heard, like a song he never wants to stop listening to. He giggles as he looks over his shoulder, running up the steps, Namjoon hot on his heels. He’d taken Namjoon’s bracelet off and had run when Namjoon had realised, expecting to be chased.
“Jimin!” Namjoon calls after him, rushing up the steps, but Jimin is faster, like a fish zipping through water and by the time Namjoon catches up to him, they’re at the very top of the lighthouse. The warmth of the sun cascades inside, dust dancing in the beams of sunlight, Jimin leaning against the guardrail, grinning. He glows in the sunlight, breathtaking and Namjoon almost can’t bare to look at him, his skin warm and rosy, hair a chocolate brown, glimmering.
“That’s a very special bracelet,” Namjoon tells him, taking a step forward, Jimin’s eyes soft and pleased. He’s in Namjoon’s favourite sweater and a pair of his own shorts, hair a mess and his nose scrunching up cutely as he looks at the bracelet in his hands.
“Did someone special give it to you?” he asks, the silver metal glittering in the daylight.
Namjoon hasn’t been up in the lighthouse in years, not since his mother had passed away. His heart aches at their last memory, her laughter filling the night sky, twinkling like stars. He stops next to Jimin on the guardrail, looking out at the glistening ocean. There’s barely a wave, the sun hot and high in the sky.
“My mother,” Namjoon answers, looking over at Jimin. He glances over at Namjoon, the wind tousling his hair playfully, eyes bright and beautiful, nearly golden.
“Oh,” he says reverently, and Namjoon thinks little of it, tying it around Jimin’s wrist. It looks prettier on him. Jimin says nothing, looks at a loss for something to say, lip caught between his teeth. Namjoon drags his thumb over Jimin’s wrist, thinks, not for the first time, about kissing the soft skin there.
“It’s almost as pretty as you,” Namjoon says, watches Jimin blush beautifully, eyes stuck on the silver around his wrist. It’s a fitting present, Namjoon thinks.
“Is this a present?” Jimin asks, quiet and careful. Namjoon hums, smiles at Jimin’s tender expression, eyes watering. He looks away from Namjoon quickly, thumb smoothing over the half moon charm.
They slip into a silence, Namjoon staring out at the sea, feeling for all his worth at one with himself, with the world. He doesn’t miss his mother with Jimin next to him, and Namjoon wonders if he can live with that.
He’s about to suggest they go back to the house, eat lunch, when Jimin starts singing, barely above a whisper at first. His voice is heavenly, melodic and soft and dreamy, but what stops Namjoon’s heart isn’t the sweetness of Jimin’s voice but the words, the melody. Only his mother knew this song, only Namjoon had ever --
But Jimin sings every word as if he’s known it his whole life, voice louder and louder until it has Namjoon quivering, chest too tight. Jimin finishes with the same softness, giggling when he’s done, head tilting to the side as he looks at Namjoon, eyes sparkling.
“I’ve spent my whole life waiting for you,” Jimin says and Namjoon won’t understand this until later, perhaps when it’s too late. Namjoon won’t understand, but he will reach forward, hand cupping Jimin’s face as he closes the distance between them to kiss Jimin ever so chastely, Jimin’s little gasp like a fire igniting within Namjoon.
He presses in closer, Jimin’s lips plush and warm and inviting, mouth opening up to Namjoon’s so readily as he leans in. His hand curls around Namjoon’s wrist, the other fisting in the front of Namjoon’s shirt and Namjoon only kisses harder, pries Jimin open until he is moaning beautifully into Namjoon’s mouth. Every sigh and ache and want in his body feels fulfilled, forgotten, Jimin’s touch searing through Namjoon.
Jimin falls apart for Namjoon, and Namjoon doesn’t know how to stop asking for more.
⚓
“Mommy! Come on, I have something to show you!” Namjoon insists, running ahead. He’s got a collection of seashells he wants to show her, has been digging around in the sand for. She follows behind him diligently, if not quickly enough.
“Did you make a sandcastle?” she asks, because there’d been a month where Namjoon had very dedicatedly built elaborate sandcastles, showing them all to his mother even if he had to drag her out of the kitchen and all the way down to the beach.
“No, no, this is better,” Namjoon says, his step quickening when he makes it to the small alcove he’s been hiding all his shells in. “Look mommy,” Namjoon says with pride, running to pick up his favourite shell.
When he glances back at his mother, she doesn’t look happy like he’d expected. Instead, her expression has darkened and she grabs Namjoon by his wrist and tugs him away from the shells. She kneels down in front of him taking the shell from his hands.
“Namjoon,” she starts, a serious look in her eyes. Namjoon doesn’t protest that she’s taken his shell, focusing his attention on his mother. His heart’s started to beat faster.
“The ocean is full of gifts, Namjoon,” she says. “It likes to share it’s gifts with us but Namjoon, you can’t take them all. You have to wait, sweetheart. The sea will give you a gift one day and you must treasure it and care for it and if ever, the sea asks for her gift back, you must not let her take it. You have to fight for it. Do you understand?”
Namjoon nods his head mutely, blinking. The words hold a weight he doesn’t quite comprehend, hasn’t the wisdom to realise. But she’s got this frantic look in his eyes, asking him again, “Do you understand, Namjoon?”
“I understand, mommy,” Namjoon answers.
“When the sea gives you the gift that is meant for you, darling, you will know.”
⚓
“There is someone who loves you very much,” Jimin tells him, finger tracing over the jut of Namjoon’s collarbones. For a moment Namjoon thinks he just means himself but then Jimin adds, voice carefully soft, “She wishes she could have spent more time with you.”
Namjoon doesn’t know how he knows, but he does, knows that Jimin doesn’t mean his mother but rather the woman he’d seen in his mother’s locket. Her hair was silver, the same as Namjoon’s, waves cascading over her shoulders. She’d looked as young as Namjoon did now, hardly twenty-five, her smile achingly sweet.
He swallows around the thickness in his throat, mouth dry, “How do you know?”
“She told me,” Jimin answers, kisses Namjoon’s neck absently, nose pressing into Namjoon’s skin as he drags in a lungful of air. Jimin smells like salt, a dewy kind of freshness that reminds Namjoon of summers spent being rocked to sleep by the ocean. He tells Namjoon that he likes how Namjoon smells like something deeper, woody and earthy and rich.
“Did she?” Namjoon murmurs, hand tangling into Jimin’s soft hair, a little brittle at the ends.
Jimin only hums, sucks against his favourite spot on Namjoon’s neck, the small mole near the base. Nothing more is offered to him, and Namjoon has learned that Jimin only tells him what he wants to, his smiles as breathtaking as they were occluding. There were secrets Namjoon wasn’t meant to know, he’d learned as much from his mother, from the ache he’d seen in her eyes as she watched the horizon from the bow of her boat.
He breathes in shallowly, feels the flutter of Jimin’s eyelashes against his skin, wondering not for the first time, if his mother had found her again.
⚓
When his grandfather had passed away, Namjoon had only just turned nine. They’d found him in his favourite chair, sitting by the fireplace, hands folded over his lap. His mother had gripped his shoulders so tightly, Namjoon had winced, and for the first time, he’d had nothing to say.
His first encounter with death had sobered him, the crestfallen look on his mother’s face etched into his mind forever. Later, he wonders if he had looked so terrible when she had smiled at him, pressing the locket into his hand, closing his fingers over the cold metal.
Yet, it was not the peaceful expression on his grandfather’s face, the look of sweet release, that had sat with Namjoon. He had watched his mother at the funeral, held her hand in his own and had noted that she did not shed a tear. Instead, his mother had taken him from the cemetery, her father’s ashes clasped to her chest in a porcelain urn. She’d taken him straight to the lighthouse, wooden door creaking open and together they’d climbed every step, and Namjoon had wondered how a man his grandfather’s age had done this everyday.
He was out of breath when he reached the top, his mother’s black hair greying near the roots, her smile sweet and kind, eyes resolute with a strength Namjoon does not think he will ever carry.
“Come here,” she’d said, pulling Namjoon to the very edge of the guardrail, sitting him down beside her. Namjoon had sat quietly, and his mother had sang him his favourite lullaby, scattering her father’s ashes to the wind and Namjoon knew that the sea had taken her offering, gentle waves crashing against the rocky coast until she had run out of voice. He hadn’t noticed it then, the echoed sound of her song sung back to them, glittering tails swimming away from them in mourning.
It was the last time she’d ever sung to him, his eyes blurred with tears, heartbreak particularly unkind at nine.
⚓
Jimin is like sand slipping through Namjoon’s fingers, and yet somehow, he’s sunk his teeth into Namjoon, a beast, refusing to let him go. Namjoon has spent his evenings with his head pressed to Jimin’s chest, his heartbeat lulling Namjoon to sleep every night, a quiet, steady tempo.
Sometimes Jimin will sing to him with the same twinkling voice as his mother, fingers running through Namjoon’s hair. Everything is as it should be, pleasant and warm and Namjoon knows, with a deep seated conviction that Jimin is all the home Namjoon would ever need.
But like every fairytale, this too, is only the calm before the storm.
⚓
“I have to go back,” Jimin tells him, Namjoon’s head in his lap as they sit by the coast. It’s not terribly sunny, the sky slightly gloomy but the water is calm, washing up against the shore quietly. Jimin’s fingers card through Namjoon’s hair, something he seems to enjoy as much as Namjoon, always tugging on the strands.
Namjoon stiffens in his hold, eyes opening and Jimin’s staring out at the sea, a wistful look in his eyes.
“What?”
“I have to go back,” Jimin repeats, looking down at Namjoon and maybe he’s expecting Jimin to look sad, but he finds Jimin isn’t. Apologetic, perhaps regretful.
Namjoon’s heart drops, clatters messily to the floor all gushing blood and torn away muscle. A flimsy thing. He sits up, Jimin’s hands falling away from his hair, a breeze fluttering past them. Jimin looks young, sunkissed and his eyes have gone dark again, hair a rustic brown, tinged with copper.
“You don’t have to go back,” Namjoon argues, words tumbling out of him too quickly, and Jimin’s smile is sympathetic. He reaches out to stroke his thumb over Namjoon’s jaw, leans in to press a fluttering kiss to the corner of Namjoon’s mouth. Namjoon tastes heartache.
“It’s time,” Jimin says quietly. “They’re calling out to me.”
“Who?” Namjoon’s heartbeat is erratic, panic and fear crashing into him like a tide, ripping him apart. He’s five again, drowning, water filling his lungs. He can’t breathe. “Jimin, you - ”
“It’s okay, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles, eye crinkling. “Everyone has to go back eventually.” He kisses Namjoon again, lips soft against Namjoon’s own. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
“I won’t, I won’t let them take you.” Namjoon’s near tears, voice cracking and Jimin’s eyes widen momentarily, softening when Namjoon pulls him in for a bone crushing hug. If Jimin is the moon, then Namjoon is but a tide dancing to his song. He can’t go. He can’t.
“The sea is not so kind, Namjoon,” Jimin whispers into his ear, arms wrapping around Namjoon carefully, tenderly, fingers stroking through Namjoon’s hair. “She doesn’t let go of what belongs to her.”
She will drown you and devour you, son, and she will not be sorry.
⚓
Namjoon isn’t careful that night, fucks Jimin with a desperation that tears through him, so rough he feels he might break Jimin and yet, Jimin begs and begs and begs him for more. Namjoon is emptied out, the taste of Jimin’s skin addicting, the sound of his voice crying out Namjoon’s name echoing through his room, their room. Sweat drips down Namjoon’s back, his grip on Jimin’s hips bruising and Jimin writhes underneath him, throat bare and beautiful. He shimmers in the moonlight, positively glowing, chest heaving as he breathes in, out, dark eyes fixed on Namjoon as Namjoon fucks into him.
Jimin comes with a silent gasp, back arching off the bed and he clenches around Namjoon’s cock so tightly that Namjoon can’t delay his own orgasm any longer, spilling into Jimin’s heat, exhausted. They pant in unison, Namjoon kissing sweat and salt off of the smoothness of Jimin’s skin, watches moonlight cascade over Jimin’s skin, Jimin glowing like a pearl.
He falls asleep sometime after the first crash of thunder, and wakes to the deafening roar of the sea crashing against the coastline. Namjoon startles awake, finds Jimin gone, Namjoon’s bracelet glistening in the moonlight and as Namjoon reaches for it, the window of his room rips open, heavy downpour soaking his bedsheets.
Namjoon clutches the bracelet in his hands, throwing the covers off of himself and bolts, naked, into the howl of the night. The sea screams around him, waves rising so high they hit even the stark white walls of the lighthouse. The storm is even angrier, a downward torrent, quick and harsh and eager to drench him. Namjoon sprints down the slope of the hill, feet slipping through mud and he rolls down, body thrashing and flinging itself down. He’s disoriented when he manages to pull himself up, mud covering him, blood gushing out of a gash across his thigh. Namjoon ignores everything, pushes himself even harder and he swears we can see Jimin, the bellow of the storm drowning everything.
Namjoon’s lungs burn, the seer through his throat nearly as uncomfortable as the blinding knowledge that this could be it. He would lose Jimin, the ocean wanted what belonged to her back. Tears sting at his eyes, a scream tearing past his lips but Jimin has already moved into the water, and Namjoon can’t run fast enough, for fuck’s sake.
He doesn’t think twice when he makes it to the water’s edge, bracelet still clutched in one hand as he sinks into the depths of the sea. No, he couldn’t lose Jimin, he wouldn’t.
⚓
Namjoon’s body feels like lead, head aching with a headache that seems to want to split him in half. He groans, a weight over his chest holding him down. His eyes flicker open, the sun beating down, the sky cloudless.
Jimin.
Namjoon’s senses shriek to life and he jostles up, only to be pinned back down by the weight but he could recognize that smell anywhere, fresh dew and the sea’s breeze, and as he hears the other body groan next to him, Namjoon knows.
“Jimin?” Namjoon strains his neck down and sees the familiar brown of Jimin’s hair, swears he sees tails disappearing into the water as he hauls himself up. Jimin blinks blearily up at him, eyes widening as he realises where they are, who Namjoon is.
“Namjoon?”
“Hey,” Namjoon says so softly, voice breaking as tears well up in his eyes. The sea had let him keep Jimin.
“You didn’t let me go,” Jimin smiles, and the sight blooms in Namjoon’s chest, has him gasping as he breathes through his tears.
“I said I wouldn’t,” he says, pulling Jimin up into a hug. Jimin fits perfectly, still just as soft and wonderful and stunning. “I waited my whole life for you.”
bts » namjoon/jimin » nc-17
the sea will give you a gift one day and you must treasure it. mermaid au. 6382w. ao3.
✖ character death (minor), magical realism/supernatural elements
originally written for btsrarepairs
Jimin is born of seafoam and crashing waves, forged as though mother earth had meant him to be a gift all along, washing ashore. Waves had licked at his feet and Namjoon had known, finally, what his mother had meant.
⚓
Namjoon’s finger hovers over Jimin’s hand, the soft flicker of a smile playing around the corners of Jimin’s eyes, teasing in the curl of his lips. Namjoon waits until Jimin finally glances up at him, sunshine cascading over golden skin, bright brown eyes sparkling as they grin at Namjoon. He traces a lazy heart against the skin, finger light, lacking purpose, Namjoon only wanting to feel skin against skin.
Jimin spreads his hand flat against the table, let’s Namjoon turn it over, chin propped up on his other hand as he watches Namjoon. Leaning down, Namjoon presses a kiss against Jimin’s open palm, grinning as he comes up to meet Jimin’s eye.
“Namjoon,” Jimin laughs, eyes crinkling as he reaches for Namjoon’s fingers, laces them through his own, smile sweet sweet sweet. Namjoon’s heart clenches in his chest.
“Mmm?” Namjoon hums, glancing over Jimin’s shoulder. Their waitress is still busy taking another table’s order and Namjoon’s never been all that hungry in the mornings, light breakfasts serving him just right, but Namjoon knows Jimin’s starving. He squeezes Jimin’s fingers, smiling brightly when he catches the waitress’s eye. She gives him a little nod before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.
“You’re gonna spoil me,” Jimin sighs, but he’s got this softness to his eyes, this fondness that has Namjoon’s belly doing a little flip flop.
“Good,” Namjoon exclaims, foot hooking around Jimin’s ankle under the table. Jimin colours pink at the surprise, head bowing as he smiles goofily to himself, and Namjoon knows what love tastes like, how it swells on the tip of his tongue until his mouth is awash with warmth. Namjoon knows to enjoy Jimin, enjoy his secret smiles, and the sleepy flutter of his eyes, the way he catches his lip between his teeth, or hides his laugh behind a hand, shy.
“What if I get out of hand, hmm?” Jimin teases, comfortably slouched in his seat. Namjoon likes the way his hair is artfully tousled despite Namjoon’s efforts to run his fingers through it this morning, have it look a little less slept in, a little less like Namjoon had spent the night fucking Jimin to tears. It wouldn’t matter in the end, not when he’s littered hickies down the column of Jimin’s neck, skin bruised purple all the way to the jut of his collarbones. In the wide necked t-shirt Jimin’s wearing, it’s all on display and it wraps around Namjoon’s heart possessively, eyes darkening.
“You’re a good boy, you’d know better,” Namjoon murmurs, foot pulling on Jimin’s ankle until he’s got one leg trapped between his own. The diner doesn’t offer the sort of under the table discretion he needs, but then, Namjoon’s never let the risk of getting caught hold him back.
Jimin flushes a deep red at that, colour seeping down his neck until his bruises startle brighter against a backdrop of embarrassment. “Namjoon,” he intones, glancing around them. The waitress is on her way with their food.
“Did I say something wrong?” Namjoon grins, cheeky, but Jimin doesn’t have time to respond, not when the waitress is setting their plates down in front of them. Namjoon thanks her, Jimin too busy hiding his face.
“You’re the worst,” Jimin pouts once the waitress is out of earshot but Namjoon only laughs, bringing Jimin’s hand to his lips for a kiss before letting go. He thinks about feeding Jimin himself, but he’s already stuffed his mouth full of waffle, the tips of his ears still a little pink. Namjoon settles for letting him enjoy his meal, pouring maple syrup over his waffles for him.
Briefly he thinks about how good it would taste off of Jimin’s skin, but he saves that for himself, too.
⚓
Namjoon’s shrieking with laughter as his mother chases him down the shore, short legs only carrying him so far, so fast. The lighthouse is stark and white against the grey sky, the ocean quiet today, lapping at the coastline with a tenderness, a soft apology for what it will soon bring.
“Namjoon,” his mother yells after him, her voice carrying over the emptiness of the beach, not even the squawk of seagulls breaks the silence. “Namjoon, stop right now!”
He stumbles then, lands face first in the sand, old enough that crying isn’t his first response, even as his mother gasps, at his side moments later, pulling him up.
“Are you hurt, let mommy see,” she worries, brushing sand off Namjoon’s clothes, checking his skin for cuts and bruises. Namjoon isn’t hurt, save maybe for his pride, having lasted for only a short run from the house. It had taken him so long to get the necklace from his mother and now she would take it back.
She’s running her hands all over him, his face in her hands as she sighs and pinches his cheeks. “What did mommy say about misbehaving?”
“‘M not supposed to,” Namjoon answers, always a bright kid. He rubs at his cheek, pouting as his mother holds her hand out expectantly. Reluctantly, Namjoon hands her the necklace, watches her pull it over her head, hand pressed to her chest, covering the locket Namjoon’s never managed to open.
“This is mommy’s,” she says, careful and slow. Namjoon hates it when she talks to him like that. He frowns, rolling his eyes. He isn’t stupid. “Don’t act smart with me, young man.”
“Sorry mommy,” Namjoon mumbles, abashed and he doesn’t like it when she gets cross with him either, hates seeing her disappointed in him. “I just wanted to see what’s inside.”
“Mommy will show you one day, but not today,” she says, the same answer as always. Namjoon tries not to be frustrated, nodding instead. She gets up on her feet, taking Namjoon’s hand in her own as she guides him back home.
Namjoon doesn’t get to see what’s inside the locket until he is nearly twenty, his mother’s once rugged hands old and leather smooth. She places the locket in Namjoon’s hands and asks him only once, “Please, set me adrift.”
She dies in her sleep and Namjoon tells no one, has no one to tell, dresses her in her favourite sundress before placing the locket around her neck. He watches the small rowing boat carry her away, the ocean seemingly sharing in his sorrow and when she disappears on the horizon, Namjoon heads back home.
⚓
Namjoon sells books and returns home everyday to the shadow cast over his small house by the might of the lighthouse his grandfather had once operated. It’s abandoned now, and Namjoon could leave, sell the land to some company wanting to make a seaside resort but he doesn’t have the heart. His mother had loved this house, had taught Namjoon how to sail and how to fish, her strength twice that of any man Namjoon has ever met.
The wind howls behind him, waves crashing brutishly against the rocky coast, Namjoon’s clothes flapping around him in the harshness. The air is misty with wetness, the taste of salt, of home, settling on Namjoon’s tongue as he watches waves rise and fall, the sea swaying with an urgency Namjoon hasn’t seen in quite some while.
He gazes up at the lighthouse, neck craning, eyes blinking rapidly to keep the mist out of his eyes. The loud boom of water hitting rock echoes around him, Namjoon’s gaze falling away from the lighthouse, childhood memories of the twin yellow beams of light illuminating the darkness of a storm brimming behind his eyes.
The sky grows darker, brimming with an unleashed fury and Namjoon turns, knows he’d better get inside unless he wants to get drenched. There is something about the chill of the evening that unsettles him, and Namjoon rubs his arms over his shoulders, underdressed for the plummet in the temperature. He heads inside, the first drops of rain hitting the backs of his legs as he closes the door behind him.
When he wakes the next morning, the sun glistens through his bedroom window, twinkling at him warmly. Namjoon enjoys the warmth, thinks about maybe taking a walk down the beach today. It had been awhile. It’s his weekend to enjoy, the bookshop in Seokjin’s capable hands. Maybe he would visit later, he had a tendency to wander back even on his days off, mindless with nothing to do but stare at the vastness of the ocean, water sparkling in the daylight.
He manages a shower and two cups of coffee, cracks open the spine of the bookstore’s latest new arrival, some great murder mystery. Namjoon always did enjoy those. By the time he makes it outside, the sun’s properly up, glistening in a cloudless sky, stinging at Namjoon’s vision when he looks up. How strange that something so beautiful could be so painful to look at.
Namjoon glances over at the shore, eyes widening as he spots something lying on the coast. For a moment, from his distance, he thinks it’s nothing, a particularly large piece of driftwood but then he sees the thing move and Namjoon’s heart stops. His throat tightens, heart clenching fearfully in his chest.
Namjoon sprints in the direction of the body, nearly slipping down the slope of the hill as he makes his way to the sandy beach. The sand is still wet from last night’s storm, and Namjoon’s never been all that graceful, nearly slipping more than once. He stumbles the last few steps, definitely scrapes a knee as he slides down next to the body, a man, his clothes soaked right through.
“Hey, hey,” Namjoon exclaims, rolling the man over and his breath catches, heart sticking to the back of his throat with a thunderous thump. His fingers shake from the echo of the force, mouth gone dry. He’s never seen someone so breathtakingly gorgeous, feels like maybe he’s holding a piece of his own imagination in his hands. And for the first time, it sinks in, his mother’s words, as if an anchor has finally hit rock bottom.
The sea will give you a gift one day.
The man coughs, splutters water and Namjoon quickly checks for his pulse, finds it a little weak but there. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay,” he assures, cradling the man’s head as he jerks awake, eyes still shut as he breathes in deep lungfuls of air, and it’s like watching a painting come to life. The pallor of the man’s skin sinks as his cheeks blossom with pink, long eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks like flower petals.
Namjoon takes in a shuddering breath, the fullness of it expanding his lungs outward and as he breathes out, the man’s eyes flutter open. His eyes are so dark, Namjoon can barely make out where his pupils end and his irises begin.
“H-hey,” Namjoon repeats, heart rattling in his chest and he’s not sure if the adrenaline still hasn’t waned out or if his heart’s just gone haywire. There’s a tightness in his chest, almost nauseating, the man coughing out another fit of water. “How’re you feeling?”
It’s a stupid question but then again, Namjoon had found him breathing. He hadn’t expected it.
“Warm,” the man answers and it’s all Namjoon gets out of him, his confusion pushed aside as he carries the man back to his house. He’s frozen, lips still a ghastly pale, the colour in his cheeks still not quite what it could be. Namjoon notes that he doesn’t shiver, his head resting against Namjoon’s shoulder, arms curled up against his chest, eyes slipping closed.
By the time Namjoon gets him inside, he’s fallen asleep and Namjoon fretfully checks his pulse every half hour, unable to focus on anything else. There’s something mesmerizing about this man, and Namjoon’s body feels like lead. His mother’s voice rings through his head.
The sea will give you a gift one day and you must treasure it and care for it and if ever, the sea asks for her gift back, you must not let her take it. You have to fight for it. Do you understand?
Namjoon stares at the man, the sun beginning to dip, sky still as cloudless as it had been that morning. The sea had given him plenty of gifts, but Namjoon had taken none of them, carrying his mother’s words around like a chatter in his teeth.
The sun washes over the man’s skin, and Namjoon’s imagination must be running wild, the man’s skin glowing as if he were crafted by the water’s surface itself.
A gift.
⚓
His name is Jimin.
He wakes up as the sun sinks below the edge of the earth, Namjoon attempting to read, a cup of cold coffee next to him. Namjoon startles when he notices the man’s eyes on him, obsidian black. There’s a quiver in his smile, in his hands, as if Namjoon’s body is still not prepared for this.
“Hello,” the man smiles, eyes curling into little crescent moons, the shyest peak of a dimple coming through on his left cheek. Namjoon finds himself staring at the fullness of his lips, the way his skin seems to glow, cheeks rosier now.
“Hey,” Namjoon replies, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “How’re you feeling?”
“Good,” he answers, and Namjoon can’t help but notice how sweet his smile is, how lovely it is, how it makes his heart skip a beat. “I’m Jimin.”
Jimin, Namjoon repeats to himself, outwardly nodding. “Namjoon. Is there, I mean, can I get you something to eat, drink? You should probably have some water.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, already leaving to grab Jimin water and when he brings it back, Jimin’s sat upright in Namjoon’s bed. Namjoon had changed his clothes, they’d been wet and while he hadn’t minded tugging one of his own sweaters over Jimin’s head, he isn’t expecting such a wide smile from Jimin, his hand smoothing over the fabric.
“Um, water,” Namjoon offers, Jimin’s gaze falling on him once more. He takes the cup, their fingers brushing momentarily, static shock zipping between them at the touch. Namjoon frowns, even as Jimin drains the cup of water in one go, holding it in his lap. The sleeves of Namjoon’s sweater are too long, covering up his hands and he looks small sitting in Namjoon’s bed. “Do you...remember anything? I found you on the beach.”
“No,” Jimin answers, brows furrowed together.
“Were you on a boat? I mean, obviously you were, but were you alone? Do you remember where you’re from? I can call your family and let them know you’re okay,” Namjoon says, sinking back into the chair he’d pulled from his kitchen and placed next to the bed. “Not that I mind you being here,” he adds, his cheeks heating up at the confession, “but I’m sure they’re worried.”
“I was supposed to find you,” Jimin says, slowly, eyes on Namjoon and he looks otherworldly, his skin shimmering under the moonlight now trickling through Namjoon’s windows. Namjoon bites the inside of his cheek, and while a part of him had known Jimin would tell him he had no one, he still isn’t expecting this.
“Find me?” Namjoon repeats, and Jimin’s smile slips, eyes suddenly sad.
“You don’t want me?” Jimin asks. He looks like he might cry, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he does it but he immediately moves to sit down on the edge of the bed, unsure what to do next.
“No, I - Of course I want you,” Namjoon splutters, the heat in his cheeks increasing until he’s sure he’s gone visibly red. Jimin stares at him with big glassy eyes, and he’s so so pretty, Namjoon can’t believe he’s real. He finds himself wiping away a tear, Jimin’s lips curving into the smallest smile, head ducking.
Namjoon’s heart clenches, mouth gone dry, and Jimin is so warm to the touch, Namjoon wants to feel more of him. He doesn’t, takes the cup still in Jimin’s small hands, Jimin looking at him again.
“I’ll make us something to eat,” he says and Jimin nods. Namjoon can’t help himself when he stands up, brushes Jimin’s hair out of his eyes, a black even darker than his eyes but absolutely breathtaking on him. The sea had given him a gift, and Namjoon had spent his whole life waiting for this moment, waiting to treasure it as his mother had taught him.
Jimin blinks at him, eyes curling into little crescents and Namjoon’s not sure if he’s earned something so precious.
⚓
Namjoon nearly drowns when he’s five, careless in the water from so many trips out to sea with his mother and grandfather. The ocean had raised him, given him a wild touch, more adventurous than some of the children Namjoon had met, though he’d hardly met any.
He’d sat himself on the edge of his grandfather’s fishing boat, right on the rail, his grandfather busy spreading his fishing net. It was a sunny, warm day, the ocean swaying calmly, and Namjoon could still see the shore from here, daring to take both his hands off the rail, laughing.
The boat had rocked forward suddenly, the force too strong and Namjoon’s hands had shot out to grab the rail, too slow, body lunging forward. The water rushed at him, a scream tearing from his lips and he’d crashed through the water, arms flailing, panic settling in. He’d tasted salt on his mouth, gasping and sucking in a mouthful of air, the tide carrying him farther away from the boat. He remembered seeing his grandfather run from the other side of the boat, a particularly high tide pushing Namjoon down deeper into the depths of the ocean, swallowing him whole. Namjoon had struggled to swim back to the surface, eyes burning as he stared at the surface but he’d felt like something was dragging him down, further and further, breathless.
Later, when his grandfather would perform CPR, breathing life back into Namjoon, he’d remember the flicker of a tail in the water, too large for any fish swimming so close to the surface. It’s not time yet, something, someone had told him and try as he might, Namjoon couldn’t understand how he’d heard a voice underwater, his grandfather drenched as he bundled Namjoon up with a blanket, asking him if he was alright.
“Sorry, grandpa,” Namjoon had mumbled, shame colouring his voice and his grandfather, a quiet man had smoothed Namjoon’s hair back, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“The sea is a tricky beast,” he’d said, his eyes hard. “She will drown you and devour you, son, and she will not be sorry.”
Namjoon had nodded, the words forgotten over the years, Namjoon enraptured by the lull of the ocean.
⚓
Jimin takes to following Namjoon around everywhere, shuffling around behind Namjoon in the house, and curling up next to Namjoon in his bed, the hem of Namjoon’s sweaters always hiking upward to reveal the thickness of his thighs. Namjoon spends too much time staring at his bare skin, heat unfurling in his belly, want spreading through his veins like molten lava.
He’d bought Jimin some clothes that actually fit him, Jimin trailing behind Namjoon in the shop, fingers clinging to Namjoon’s wrist. And while Jimin wore the clothes that were for him when he followed Namjoon out of the house, quietly sitting in a corner of Namjoon’s bookstore, he wandered around the house in Namjoon’s too big sweaters. Told Namjoon he liked how they smelled.
His giggles light up the air every time one of the neighbourhood kids reads to him, Jimin patiently sitting with them in the shop. Namjoon appreciates the help, and the parents of plenty of the children like Jimin, think he’s kind and polite and sweet. Namjoon can only agree.
“Monsters aren’t real,” Jimin assures one little kid, her hair tied in two little ponytails, ribbon adorned near the hair tie. She looks like she might even believe Jimin, her mother browsing through the cooking section of the store. Namjoon’s wrapping up for the night, has gone around the shop to straighten everything up. He’s felt Jimin’s eyes follow him around.
“You promise?” she asks, and Jimin hums in agreement, sticks his pinky finger out and seals the deal. He’s picked that up from the kids, makes Namjoon pinky promise him things for dinner or visits into town. Jimin likes exploring. Namjoon just likes Jimin.
By the time Namjoon locks up for the night, Jimin’s grabbed both their jackets. It’s chilly in the evenings. Namjoon takes his from Jimin, silently thanking him and notices the ribbon tied around his wrist, the same pink he’d seen around the girl’s hair.
“Did someone give you a present?” Namjoon asks, amused, as his finger traces over the ribbon. Jimin always stands so close to Namjoon, smells like a fresh ocean’s breeze. He leans in, always leans in when Namjoon touches him, eyes fluttering shut.
“I think so,” he answers, all breathy and it gives Namjoon butterflies.
“It’s almost as pretty as you,” Namjoon whispers, Jimin’s eyes fluttering open and they’re black again, the cinnamon brown from earlier disappearing as the sun dips in the sky. Jimin’s smile is pleased, pink blooming in his cheeks and he is more gorgeous than anything Namjoon’s ever seen, puts the sun to shame.
Jimin lets Namjoon button his jacket up, grinning when Namjoon takes his hand in his. They walk home quietly, Jimin humming softly under his breath, his hair now a deep chocolate brown, glistening even in the evening light.
⚓
Jimin’s laughter booms in the hollowed emptiness of the lighthouse, and it’s the most beautiful thing Namjoon’s ever heard, like a song he never wants to stop listening to. He giggles as he looks over his shoulder, running up the steps, Namjoon hot on his heels. He’d taken Namjoon’s bracelet off and had run when Namjoon had realised, expecting to be chased.
“Jimin!” Namjoon calls after him, rushing up the steps, but Jimin is faster, like a fish zipping through water and by the time Namjoon catches up to him, they’re at the very top of the lighthouse. The warmth of the sun cascades inside, dust dancing in the beams of sunlight, Jimin leaning against the guardrail, grinning. He glows in the sunlight, breathtaking and Namjoon almost can’t bare to look at him, his skin warm and rosy, hair a chocolate brown, glimmering.
“That’s a very special bracelet,” Namjoon tells him, taking a step forward, Jimin’s eyes soft and pleased. He’s in Namjoon’s favourite sweater and a pair of his own shorts, hair a mess and his nose scrunching up cutely as he looks at the bracelet in his hands.
“Did someone special give it to you?” he asks, the silver metal glittering in the daylight.
Namjoon hasn’t been up in the lighthouse in years, not since his mother had passed away. His heart aches at their last memory, her laughter filling the night sky, twinkling like stars. He stops next to Jimin on the guardrail, looking out at the glistening ocean. There’s barely a wave, the sun hot and high in the sky.
“My mother,” Namjoon answers, looking over at Jimin. He glances over at Namjoon, the wind tousling his hair playfully, eyes bright and beautiful, nearly golden.
“Oh,” he says reverently, and Namjoon thinks little of it, tying it around Jimin’s wrist. It looks prettier on him. Jimin says nothing, looks at a loss for something to say, lip caught between his teeth. Namjoon drags his thumb over Jimin’s wrist, thinks, not for the first time, about kissing the soft skin there.
“It’s almost as pretty as you,” Namjoon says, watches Jimin blush beautifully, eyes stuck on the silver around his wrist. It’s a fitting present, Namjoon thinks.
“Is this a present?” Jimin asks, quiet and careful. Namjoon hums, smiles at Jimin’s tender expression, eyes watering. He looks away from Namjoon quickly, thumb smoothing over the half moon charm.
They slip into a silence, Namjoon staring out at the sea, feeling for all his worth at one with himself, with the world. He doesn’t miss his mother with Jimin next to him, and Namjoon wonders if he can live with that.
He’s about to suggest they go back to the house, eat lunch, when Jimin starts singing, barely above a whisper at first. His voice is heavenly, melodic and soft and dreamy, but what stops Namjoon’s heart isn’t the sweetness of Jimin’s voice but the words, the melody. Only his mother knew this song, only Namjoon had ever --
But Jimin sings every word as if he’s known it his whole life, voice louder and louder until it has Namjoon quivering, chest too tight. Jimin finishes with the same softness, giggling when he’s done, head tilting to the side as he looks at Namjoon, eyes sparkling.
“I’ve spent my whole life waiting for you,” Jimin says and Namjoon won’t understand this until later, perhaps when it’s too late. Namjoon won’t understand, but he will reach forward, hand cupping Jimin’s face as he closes the distance between them to kiss Jimin ever so chastely, Jimin’s little gasp like a fire igniting within Namjoon.
He presses in closer, Jimin’s lips plush and warm and inviting, mouth opening up to Namjoon’s so readily as he leans in. His hand curls around Namjoon’s wrist, the other fisting in the front of Namjoon’s shirt and Namjoon only kisses harder, pries Jimin open until he is moaning beautifully into Namjoon’s mouth. Every sigh and ache and want in his body feels fulfilled, forgotten, Jimin’s touch searing through Namjoon.
Jimin falls apart for Namjoon, and Namjoon doesn’t know how to stop asking for more.
⚓
“Mommy! Come on, I have something to show you!” Namjoon insists, running ahead. He’s got a collection of seashells he wants to show her, has been digging around in the sand for. She follows behind him diligently, if not quickly enough.
“Did you make a sandcastle?” she asks, because there’d been a month where Namjoon had very dedicatedly built elaborate sandcastles, showing them all to his mother even if he had to drag her out of the kitchen and all the way down to the beach.
“No, no, this is better,” Namjoon says, his step quickening when he makes it to the small alcove he’s been hiding all his shells in. “Look mommy,” Namjoon says with pride, running to pick up his favourite shell.
When he glances back at his mother, she doesn’t look happy like he’d expected. Instead, her expression has darkened and she grabs Namjoon by his wrist and tugs him away from the shells. She kneels down in front of him taking the shell from his hands.
“Namjoon,” she starts, a serious look in her eyes. Namjoon doesn’t protest that she’s taken his shell, focusing his attention on his mother. His heart’s started to beat faster.
“The ocean is full of gifts, Namjoon,” she says. “It likes to share it’s gifts with us but Namjoon, you can’t take them all. You have to wait, sweetheart. The sea will give you a gift one day and you must treasure it and care for it and if ever, the sea asks for her gift back, you must not let her take it. You have to fight for it. Do you understand?”
Namjoon nods his head mutely, blinking. The words hold a weight he doesn’t quite comprehend, hasn’t the wisdom to realise. But she’s got this frantic look in his eyes, asking him again, “Do you understand, Namjoon?”
“I understand, mommy,” Namjoon answers.
“When the sea gives you the gift that is meant for you, darling, you will know.”
⚓
“There is someone who loves you very much,” Jimin tells him, finger tracing over the jut of Namjoon’s collarbones. For a moment Namjoon thinks he just means himself but then Jimin adds, voice carefully soft, “She wishes she could have spent more time with you.”
Namjoon doesn’t know how he knows, but he does, knows that Jimin doesn’t mean his mother but rather the woman he’d seen in his mother’s locket. Her hair was silver, the same as Namjoon’s, waves cascading over her shoulders. She’d looked as young as Namjoon did now, hardly twenty-five, her smile achingly sweet.
He swallows around the thickness in his throat, mouth dry, “How do you know?”
“She told me,” Jimin answers, kisses Namjoon’s neck absently, nose pressing into Namjoon’s skin as he drags in a lungful of air. Jimin smells like salt, a dewy kind of freshness that reminds Namjoon of summers spent being rocked to sleep by the ocean. He tells Namjoon that he likes how Namjoon smells like something deeper, woody and earthy and rich.
“Did she?” Namjoon murmurs, hand tangling into Jimin’s soft hair, a little brittle at the ends.
Jimin only hums, sucks against his favourite spot on Namjoon’s neck, the small mole near the base. Nothing more is offered to him, and Namjoon has learned that Jimin only tells him what he wants to, his smiles as breathtaking as they were occluding. There were secrets Namjoon wasn’t meant to know, he’d learned as much from his mother, from the ache he’d seen in her eyes as she watched the horizon from the bow of her boat.
He breathes in shallowly, feels the flutter of Jimin’s eyelashes against his skin, wondering not for the first time, if his mother had found her again.
⚓
When his grandfather had passed away, Namjoon had only just turned nine. They’d found him in his favourite chair, sitting by the fireplace, hands folded over his lap. His mother had gripped his shoulders so tightly, Namjoon had winced, and for the first time, he’d had nothing to say.
His first encounter with death had sobered him, the crestfallen look on his mother’s face etched into his mind forever. Later, he wonders if he had looked so terrible when she had smiled at him, pressing the locket into his hand, closing his fingers over the cold metal.
Yet, it was not the peaceful expression on his grandfather’s face, the look of sweet release, that had sat with Namjoon. He had watched his mother at the funeral, held her hand in his own and had noted that she did not shed a tear. Instead, his mother had taken him from the cemetery, her father’s ashes clasped to her chest in a porcelain urn. She’d taken him straight to the lighthouse, wooden door creaking open and together they’d climbed every step, and Namjoon had wondered how a man his grandfather’s age had done this everyday.
He was out of breath when he reached the top, his mother’s black hair greying near the roots, her smile sweet and kind, eyes resolute with a strength Namjoon does not think he will ever carry.
“Come here,” she’d said, pulling Namjoon to the very edge of the guardrail, sitting him down beside her. Namjoon had sat quietly, and his mother had sang him his favourite lullaby, scattering her father’s ashes to the wind and Namjoon knew that the sea had taken her offering, gentle waves crashing against the rocky coast until she had run out of voice. He hadn’t noticed it then, the echoed sound of her song sung back to them, glittering tails swimming away from them in mourning.
It was the last time she’d ever sung to him, his eyes blurred with tears, heartbreak particularly unkind at nine.
⚓
Jimin is like sand slipping through Namjoon’s fingers, and yet somehow, he’s sunk his teeth into Namjoon, a beast, refusing to let him go. Namjoon has spent his evenings with his head pressed to Jimin’s chest, his heartbeat lulling Namjoon to sleep every night, a quiet, steady tempo.
Sometimes Jimin will sing to him with the same twinkling voice as his mother, fingers running through Namjoon’s hair. Everything is as it should be, pleasant and warm and Namjoon knows, with a deep seated conviction that Jimin is all the home Namjoon would ever need.
But like every fairytale, this too, is only the calm before the storm.
⚓
“I have to go back,” Jimin tells him, Namjoon’s head in his lap as they sit by the coast. It’s not terribly sunny, the sky slightly gloomy but the water is calm, washing up against the shore quietly. Jimin’s fingers card through Namjoon’s hair, something he seems to enjoy as much as Namjoon, always tugging on the strands.
Namjoon stiffens in his hold, eyes opening and Jimin’s staring out at the sea, a wistful look in his eyes.
“What?”
“I have to go back,” Jimin repeats, looking down at Namjoon and maybe he’s expecting Jimin to look sad, but he finds Jimin isn’t. Apologetic, perhaps regretful.
Namjoon’s heart drops, clatters messily to the floor all gushing blood and torn away muscle. A flimsy thing. He sits up, Jimin’s hands falling away from his hair, a breeze fluttering past them. Jimin looks young, sunkissed and his eyes have gone dark again, hair a rustic brown, tinged with copper.
“You don’t have to go back,” Namjoon argues, words tumbling out of him too quickly, and Jimin’s smile is sympathetic. He reaches out to stroke his thumb over Namjoon’s jaw, leans in to press a fluttering kiss to the corner of Namjoon’s mouth. Namjoon tastes heartache.
“It’s time,” Jimin says quietly. “They’re calling out to me.”
“Who?” Namjoon’s heartbeat is erratic, panic and fear crashing into him like a tide, ripping him apart. He’s five again, drowning, water filling his lungs. He can’t breathe. “Jimin, you - ”
“It’s okay, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles, eye crinkling. “Everyone has to go back eventually.” He kisses Namjoon again, lips soft against Namjoon’s own. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
“I won’t, I won’t let them take you.” Namjoon’s near tears, voice cracking and Jimin’s eyes widen momentarily, softening when Namjoon pulls him in for a bone crushing hug. If Jimin is the moon, then Namjoon is but a tide dancing to his song. He can’t go. He can’t.
“The sea is not so kind, Namjoon,” Jimin whispers into his ear, arms wrapping around Namjoon carefully, tenderly, fingers stroking through Namjoon’s hair. “She doesn’t let go of what belongs to her.”
She will drown you and devour you, son, and she will not be sorry.
⚓
Namjoon isn’t careful that night, fucks Jimin with a desperation that tears through him, so rough he feels he might break Jimin and yet, Jimin begs and begs and begs him for more. Namjoon is emptied out, the taste of Jimin’s skin addicting, the sound of his voice crying out Namjoon’s name echoing through his room, their room. Sweat drips down Namjoon’s back, his grip on Jimin’s hips bruising and Jimin writhes underneath him, throat bare and beautiful. He shimmers in the moonlight, positively glowing, chest heaving as he breathes in, out, dark eyes fixed on Namjoon as Namjoon fucks into him.
Jimin comes with a silent gasp, back arching off the bed and he clenches around Namjoon’s cock so tightly that Namjoon can’t delay his own orgasm any longer, spilling into Jimin’s heat, exhausted. They pant in unison, Namjoon kissing sweat and salt off of the smoothness of Jimin’s skin, watches moonlight cascade over Jimin’s skin, Jimin glowing like a pearl.
He falls asleep sometime after the first crash of thunder, and wakes to the deafening roar of the sea crashing against the coastline. Namjoon startles awake, finds Jimin gone, Namjoon’s bracelet glistening in the moonlight and as Namjoon reaches for it, the window of his room rips open, heavy downpour soaking his bedsheets.
Namjoon clutches the bracelet in his hands, throwing the covers off of himself and bolts, naked, into the howl of the night. The sea screams around him, waves rising so high they hit even the stark white walls of the lighthouse. The storm is even angrier, a downward torrent, quick and harsh and eager to drench him. Namjoon sprints down the slope of the hill, feet slipping through mud and he rolls down, body thrashing and flinging itself down. He’s disoriented when he manages to pull himself up, mud covering him, blood gushing out of a gash across his thigh. Namjoon ignores everything, pushes himself even harder and he swears we can see Jimin, the bellow of the storm drowning everything.
Namjoon’s lungs burn, the seer through his throat nearly as uncomfortable as the blinding knowledge that this could be it. He would lose Jimin, the ocean wanted what belonged to her back. Tears sting at his eyes, a scream tearing past his lips but Jimin has already moved into the water, and Namjoon can’t run fast enough, for fuck’s sake.
He doesn’t think twice when he makes it to the water’s edge, bracelet still clutched in one hand as he sinks into the depths of the sea. No, he couldn’t lose Jimin, he wouldn’t.
⚓
Namjoon’s body feels like lead, head aching with a headache that seems to want to split him in half. He groans, a weight over his chest holding him down. His eyes flicker open, the sun beating down, the sky cloudless.
Jimin.
Namjoon’s senses shriek to life and he jostles up, only to be pinned back down by the weight but he could recognize that smell anywhere, fresh dew and the sea’s breeze, and as he hears the other body groan next to him, Namjoon knows.
“Jimin?” Namjoon strains his neck down and sees the familiar brown of Jimin’s hair, swears he sees tails disappearing into the water as he hauls himself up. Jimin blinks blearily up at him, eyes widening as he realises where they are, who Namjoon is.
“Namjoon?”
“Hey,” Namjoon says so softly, voice breaking as tears well up in his eyes. The sea had let him keep Jimin.
“You didn’t let me go,” Jimin smiles, and the sight blooms in Namjoon’s chest, has him gasping as he breathes through his tears.
“I said I wouldn’t,” he says, pulling Jimin up into a hug. Jimin fits perfectly, still just as soft and wonderful and stunning. “I waited my whole life for you.”