Landlocked - Kai/Taemin (1/3)

[fulushouxi]

Pairing: Kai/Taemin
Genre: Mermaid AU
Rating (this part): PG-13, will go up in the subsequent chapters.
Warnings (this part): Thematic elements
Word count: 5,300
Summary: Jongin finds a boy drifting in the Han River and rescues him. Only, there's something wrong with the boy.
Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional.
A/N: I got the idea for this fic in early 2015 but kept putting it on the backburner. Now I finally had the time and courage to write it.



Chapter I

Bring your ear to the water
and I’ll sing you
down into my arms.

- Saeed Jones, Mississippi Drowning.

*

Jongin’s calves and lungs were screaming out. He told himself to keep breathing to give his muscles much needed fuel, but his will was failing him - each step he took was harder than the last.

This is necessary, he kept telling himself. This is necessary. The other trainees run too - you have to outrun them. Whatever they do, you have to outdo them.

He saw the familiar landmark tree not too far away; hold on a little longer, he told his burning calves and aching limbs. Jongin grit his teeth and made one final dash to the tree, barely feeling his lower body now. He passed the tall old tree, growing askew in the winds, on his right, and stopped dead, folding over his knees, panting for breath.

As soon as he stood still, the endorphins kicked in, and, overcome with warm sense of peace, he walked down to the riverbank.

The humid yet slightly cool air felt good on Jongin’s sweaty face. Leaning his forearms on the railing enclosing the river, he looked over the grey mass of water, at the tall buildings and mountains rising on the other side. The mountains were changing colour like any other living thing - preparing for winter.

A month or two, and Jongin wouldn’t be able to jog here, though the river didn’t change with the seasons - the roaring mass of water was above such things, too much for cold to bite it.

The seasons were all the same. Weeks came and went, and so did months, and very little happened in between.

Marvelling at the hues of red and yellow in the mountains, Jongin recollected why he had felt so hollow when he had come here to run: it was his first Chuseok away from home.

Jongin felt a stab of guilt. He should’ve been at home helping his parents; he should’ve been there to meet his grandparents. He had missed Chuseok last year too. Next year, Jongin knew he’d better have something to show for his family to make up for his long absence.

Jongin exhaled deeply, enjoying the feel of being able to breathe slowly again. His lungs were no longer stinging, and he loved how easy it was to breathe now that he got to merely stand still.

He made his way to where the railing ended and gave way for a bank less steep. Here, the sand shore slanted smoothly into the water. The bank grew weed here and there; the soil gave under Jongin’s weight.

For a moment Jongin closed his eyes. The sounds around him seemed to become louder; the traffic in the distance; the subway rumbling over a bridge not too far from where Jongin stood; the steady floating sound, the ebb and flow against the riverbank. It sounded sweet after several hours of dance practice and loud hip hop.

The steady whooshing was suddenly interrupted.

Jongin’s ears caught a splashing sound, like that of a fish when it whips the surface of the water with its tail, only louder, much louder.

He opened his eyes and looked around for the source of the sound.

A scream escaped Jongin. He backed away on the slippery sand, his shoes sinking into it.

A boy was lying face-down on the shore among the reeds. His hair and clothes were sopping wet, as though he had just emerged from the river.

Jongin’s heart was racing; was the boy dead? Or had he used his last remaining strength to climb ashore? What should Jongin do?

He looked around, about to cry for help, but nobody walked past. He had his phone with him of course, but hadn’t all those first-aid instructors that had visited his school told him that you were supposed to help the person first before calling an ambulance?

Jongin tried to get a hold of himself. He slowly went over to the boy. As far as he could see, the boy’s back wasn’t heaving.

Jongin knelt down by the immobile body and hesitantly turned the boy over. The boy was about his age. His eyes were shut and his face pale. He had sand in his mouth. Jongin steeled himself and gingerly wiped the sand away, wondering how much of it the boy had swallowed. The boy’s head hung limp and heavy against Jongin’s arm. He propped his head up, but the boy didn’t react.

“Oh no…” Jongin whimpered, afraid that he was holding a dead person in his arms. He fumbled for his waist, looking for his phone in his pocket. His hand wrapped around his water bottle.

Jongin jumped. The boy gave a cough. He coughed, coughed and spluttered. Jongin braced his back, lifting him upright. Then the boy retched, and Jongin slapped his back hard a couple of times.

“Come on, now… It’s alright…” Jongin kept saying.

Finally the boy stopped coughing. He was gasping for breath.

“Water,” he croaked.

“Oh, I have water, hold on,” Jongin mumbled, taking out his water bottle. The boy drank from it greedily, as though his life depended on it. The bottle was soon empty. The boy shook the bottle desperately. That was when he glanced at Jongin. His eyes were bloodshot and the look in them weary, and Jongin’s heart hurt for him.

“I’m getting help,” he said to the boy, slowly and clearly, as though unsure if the boy understood.

He fumbled for his phone in his pockets again and dialled the emergency number, clutching the phone to his ear.

It kept alerting - why did it have to be Chuseok now? Either there were fewer people working at the centre or wherever the calls were directed, or people were getting into trouble more than usually.

“Fuck!” Jongin snapped when nobody answered.

The boy’s eyes widened at his raised voice. Jongin dialled again, his hands shaking. It rang.

“Come on now!” Jongin burst out.

“I’m fine.”

The ringing ended. A female voice spoke on the other end. “Please state your emergency.”

“Uh… Hello, I…”

“I’m fine.”

It took Jongin a moment to realise it had been the boy who said that.

“Hello?” said the emergency dispatcher. “Please state your emergency.”

“I’m fine,” the boy said again. His voice was quiet and soft. He didn’t look fine to Jongin, though he was gaining back colour to his cheeks and lips, and the bags under his eye weren’t quite so blue anymore.

Jongin made up his mind.

“Hello? Please state your emergency, now.”

“Nevermind, I mean…” Jongin answered the woman. “Sorry for inconveniencing you.”

He rang off, studying this boy whom he had just rescued.

He was in his late teens, Jongin surmised, just like he was, though the boy’s round and soft face made him look younger than he probably was. The boy seemed quite tall, however, which made Jongin think that they were about the same age. His black hair was slightly overgrown and, as of now, glued to the boy’s head. Droplets of water dripped from the ends around his temples.

“Are you… are you sure?” Jongin asked, incredulous.

“Yes. The water helped,” the boy said. He leaned on his hands, and, like a toddler, got to his feet. Only, his feet didn’t carry him.

“Oh crap!” Jongin exclaimed, catching the boy just in time. “What on earth have you been up to?”

“Swimming,” the boy said. The wetness of his clothes seeped through Jongin’s shirt, and Jongin had no intention of disputing the boy’s claim. At least the boy was light.

“Fair enough,” Jongin grunted, supporting the boy’s weight. “But can you walk, like, at all?”

The boy tensed in Jongin’s arms. An anxious look came to his eyes. “I’m not sure.”

“Do your legs hurt or something?” Jongin asked, looking up and down the boy. He didn’t smell of alcohol.

“No.”

“You just can’t walk?” Jongin concluded, vexed and worried.

“Yes.”

Jongin tried to consider the situation. He had in his hands a stranger, a helpless stranger, whom he had rescued, and who had yet claimed to be well and had refused an ambulance. But he couldn’t walk, or didn’t want to, whatever - it was obvious to Jongin that he couldn’t just leave this boy to his own devices.

“You need to go to the hospital, you know,” Jongin said. His arms were beginning to tremble; the boy’s weight was getting to him. If he hadn’t run those five kilometres just now…

“I’m fine,” the boy repeated, to Jongin’s frustration.

The boy tried to put weight on his legs again, but they buckled.

“Shit,” Jongin mumbled. “Look, how about I call us a cab? We can’t stay here all day.”

The boy was quiet for a moment. Then he said, in a small voice, “Okay.”

Jongin helped the boy down onto the riverbank and took out his phone again. He glanced around, trying to locate them. One of the bridges crossing the Han River rose not too far from them, and he ordered a taxi, trying to describe their location to the best of his abilities.

Still, it was necessary that they moved.

And so, Jongin pocketed his phone and helped the boy up, wrapping his arm around the boy.

“There’s a parking lot a short distance away. D’you think you could walk there?” Jongin asked.

“Yeah,” the boy said.

And so they set off, with Jongin supporting most if not all of the boy’s weight, and the boy limping on, one step at a time. Jongin’s shirt was soaked through now and glueing to his side where the boy pressed against him.

It was exhausting and agonising, but at last they arrived at the parking lot. A taxi stood there, engine on, waiting.

They inched closer. Jongin saw the driver looking at them in question. Jongin gave him a slight nod.

Jongin gave the boy his jacket. He wondered what the taxi driver would think of him, but they really had no choice.

The driver stepped out and opened the backseat door for them, the look on his face disapproving. Jongin’s face felt hot when he pushed the boy to the backseat and followed him suit. The water from the boy’s clothes and hair dripped onto the leather seat. He knew what the driver was thinking; that Jongin and the boy were underage and had taken a drink too many and decided to go for a swim.

In fact, Jongin believed that of the boy. Once they’d get to the dorm, he’d get to the bottom of this.

Jongin gave the driver his dorm address. He thanked God for the fact that everybody else would be with their parents, and that the dorm would be empty.

The drive to the dorm seemed to last forever. Nobody spoke. Jongin dared to look at the boy enough to see that he was staring out of the window, his hands between his knees. His chest was heaving, and Jongin wondered if he was well. Maybe he was just nervous as to where Jongin was taking him?

Finally the taxi entered the familiar neighbourhood. Jongin gave the driver instructions.

“This is fine,” Jongin said when they were two houses away from the dorm.

“Are you sure?” the taxi driver asked, glancing at Jongin through the mirror.

“Yes. Thank you,” Jongin said and fumbled for his wallet. It was fortunate that he had realised to bring his wallet, though he barely had enough money in it to pay for the ride. He shoved the notes in the driver’s hand, and quickly opened the door, pulling the boy out.

“Come, let’s go.”

The boy clambered out with Jongin’s help.

“Can you walk at all?” Jongin muttered to him under his breath, keeping an eye on the taxi as it drove off.

“I can try,” answered the boy.

Jongin held his arm, but the boy’s feet seemed to carry him now, just enough. They crossed the road and made their way to a block of flats. At the front door, Jongin typed in the entry code, and let them in.

Jongin was ashamed of the mess he had left behind in the dorm, thinking that he would be alone for the next couple of days. His clothes were draped over the couch, and the utensils he had used for breakfast were waiting on the kitchen table to be taken away. The smell of stale food lingered in the rooms.

“Ah, this is…” Jongin began, turning back to the boy.

The boy was standing stiffly in the doorway, staring at Jongin and then at the floor.

“Come in,” Jongin said cautiously. The boy snapped out of his thoughts.

It was then that Jongin noticed that the boy had no shoes on - only black socks.

“I’ll bring you some clothes. Wait here,” Jongin said, waiting for the boy to nod in assent. Then he quickly went to his room and rummaged in his closet for a t-shirt and sweatpants.

Going back, Jongin was startled to find the boy standing right behind his bedroom door. His eyes widened at Jongin’s shock, and he looked apologetic.

“H-here,” Jongin said, thrusting the clothes to the boy. “You can go to the bathroom to change. It’s that way,” he said, pointing to the left behind the boy.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. He looked slightly baffled at Jongin’s kindness.

“Oh!” Jongin said quickly. “I don’t think I’ve asked you for your name yet.”

The boy seemed surprised, as if the realisation had only just dawned on him too.

“It’s Taemin.”

“Taemin,” Jongin repeated with a cautious smile. “My name’s Jongin.”

“Jongin,” the boy, Taemin, mumbled, barely audibly, and gave Jongin a look that Jongin didn’t quite comprehend, but for some reason he felt it in the pit of his belly.

When Taemin had gone to the bathroom, Jongin was left standing there with panic rushing into his consciousness.

He wondered who this boy was. What if he was a burglar, or a murderer, who had a very elaborate scheme to carry out his crime? But if Taemin wasn’t a criminal, somebody out there was missing him. That somebody might presume that Taemin had drowned in the Han River. Jongin should definitely call the police.

Or maybe non-emergency numbers? Should he report finding a missing person?

Jongin hadn’t arrived in any decision when there suddenly was a loud thud in the bathroom.

“Taemin?” Jongin called, his heart freezing.

Taemin didn’t answer.

“Are you alright?”

He went to the door. It wasn’t locked. Jongin decided that this was no time to fear for what he might find, and so he pushed the door open.

“Taemin!”

The boy was lying against the bathtub, wearing Jongin’s clothes. He moved a little, groaning.

“Taemin! What’s wrong?” Jongin asked, taking Taemin’s head in his hands.

“Water,” Taemin croaked.

“Right.”

Jongin got up and took a cup from the bathroom cabinet, filling it with tap water.

“No,” the boy said. His gaze turned to the side.

“What?”

Laboriously he turned himself around, towards the bathtub behind him.

“That’s not… that’s a bathtub,” Jongin exclaimed, exasperated. Exactly how thirsty was this boy?

He watched in confusion as the boy lifted his hand towards the faucet. But it was out of his reach, and he fell into the tub with a horrible bang.

“Water!” Taemin cried, looking at Jongin with pleading eyes.

Jongin waited no longer. He turned the tap on. Taemin collapsed under the pillar of water, dowsing his face.

The tub filled slowly, with Taemin coiled up inside. When the surface had risen over Taemin, Jongin saw something odd. Taemin had his eyes open underwater - his mouth open, too.

“Taemin, what…” Jongin began. An incredible thought passed through his head. Taemin was breathing underwater.

“Don't, Taemin!” Jongin yelped, shoving his hands into the tub and grabbing Taemin by the shoulders. Taemin fought back, refusing to be pulled out of the water. Their eyes locked - Taemin was staring at Jongin with a calm look in his eyes. He shook his head.

And then, Taemin mouthed something.

“I’m feeling better now.”

Jongin’s heart was hammering. He expected Taemin to start coughing any minute now. He expected Taemin to drown in this bathtub.

But he didn’t. He brought his head above the surface. “Thank you, Jongin,” he said, his voice quite even and natural.

Jongin wouldn’t believe this. This was some kind of a sick joke. This boy was mad. Jongin backed away from the tub.

“Jongin?”

“What’s the matter with you?” Jongin said in a strangled and disgusted voice.

The serene look on Taemin’s face was gone. He looked startled and sad. “I… I don’t know.”

And then, all of a sudden, Taemin burst into tears.

The sight tore at Jongin’s heart. He knew he shouldn’t have just stood there stupidly, but he just could bring himself to comfort the boy.

The storm of weeping died down, little by little, and then the boy was sitting in the bathtub, hugging his knees, staring listlessly into nothingness, still wearing the clothes Jongin had given him.

Jongin took a deep breath to ground himself.

“I… You must be hungry,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

The boy looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “A bit.”

“I’ll bring you something. You can take a bathrobe… That one,” Jongin said, gesturing vaguely at one of the several bathrobes hanging on the wall.

Taemin nodded thank-you.

Jongin left, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. He strode to the kitchen as though in a fog. His brain was whirring with thoughts, and yet it felt quite empty. He couldn’t grasp any of his thoughts as yet or let them take full form.

First things first. Food, for instance.

Jongin had no food in the fridge. He didn’t feel right leaving Taemin on his own in the dorm, so he decided to order in. The delivery man rang the dorm doorbell forty-five minutes later. Hoping beyond hope that Taemin wouldn’t now come out in his bathrobe (he heard an occasional lapping noise as he passed the bathroom on his way to the hall, and surmised that Taemin was still bathing), Jongin went to answer the door.

But upon trying to pay, Jongin remembered how strapped for cash he was - he had spent everything on the taxi. The delivery man accepted a card, fortunately, and Jongin got his two pizzas.

As the front door closed, and Jongin stood in silence in the hall, the scent of warm pizza in his nose, he felt a cautious sense of calm. He’d survive this day.

“Taemin? I got us food,” he called through the bathroom door as he returned to the kitchen. He heard a squeak and two hollow thumps. At least Taemin was still awake and aware.

Jongin cleared the kitchen table of junk and dirty plates and glasses and set the pizzas on the table. As he turned to the cupboards to get a knife, he got a start - Taemin was standing in the adjacent living room, wrapped in Jongin’s navy blue bathrobe, and watching Jongin.

“I got us pizza,” Jongin squeaked, his voice lost somewhere.

Taemin’s suspicious face softened slightly. “Oh.”

“Come. Eat,” Jongin said, motioning towards the table.

Taemin did as he was told. It was only when he came walking to the table that Jongin remembered to marvel it - Taemin was walking; he was on his feet. Jongin was close to pointing it out, but then he thought better of it.

They sat in silence, eating. It seemed as though, now that Taemin was feeling better, he was more willing to speak; to explain.

“I can’t remember what happened,” he said, his voice hollow, as if he were speaking to himself. “I fell into the River. And then…” he trailed off.

“You were washed ashore?” Jongin finished.

Taemin looked at him with wide eyes.

“I… yes. Yes, that’s how it happened.”

“How long were you in the water? Minutes? Hours?” Jongin inquired.

The boy shrugged his shoulders a little reluctantly.

“I don’t know. Days?”

“Days?” Jongin burst out. “But… people can’t… Taemin - were you, um, breathing underwater just now? In the bathtub?” He asked this as cautiously as he could. Taemin stared at him. He looked scared.

“I… it’s true. I can’t… if I’m out of water for too long, I feel like I can’t breathe… choking. Is that… am I ill?” Taemin asked anxiously.

The honest answer was that Jongin didn’t know. It wasn’t natural, that much was sure. But looking at Taemin, he had no heart to say it. Whatever had happened to Taemin, he hadn’t recovered from it - he was too unstable still to bear the truth.

And whatever Taemin’s problem was, it wasn’t lack of appetite - he finished his pizza at the same pace as Jongin did - fast; the way only a teenage boy could.

It was then that Jongin’s thoughts came back to him - what to do with Taemin? Where should they call? Where should they go? If Taemin stayed much longer, he would bankrupt Jongin. That much was certain.

Then there were the other considerations, such as the fact that this wasn’t Jongin’s apartment; it belonged to the agency, and four other trainees lived there as well. If something happened while they were away…

Jongin snuck a covert glance at Taemin and tried to take stock of the situation. This boy could be anyone or anything - he might murder Jongin while he was asleep. Granted, Taemin seemed harmless, and if they got into a fistfight now, Jongin was sure he could overpower him. But there was still something odd about that boy, very odd indeed, and Jongin wasn’t sure if he liked it.

They rose from the table and Jongin hauled all the stuff on the table to the sink. While washing the dishes, he watched Taemin out of the corner of his eye.

Taemin was on his feet still, slowly strolling in the living room, surveying everything keenly - the large couch (with a minute coffee spill on it - it was all Baekhyun’s fault); the small black table in the centre of the room (with a crack in one corner - again, thanks, Baekhyun, Jongin thought acidly); the TV; the game console dotted with fingerprints (it was their most prized possession here in this dorm); the CD and DVD collection.

Taemin paused by it, gently running his fingertip along the backs of the CD cases.

“Do you like music?” Jongin asked.

To his surprise, Taemin smiled. “Yes, I do.”

Jongin switched off the tap and hung up the dish washing brush. “Come, let’s watch some DVD’s.”

Jongin showed Taemin to the couch in front of the large widescreen TV in the living room. He picked a concert DVD, not quite at random. They had these live DVD’s here because the bands were from the same agency as Jongin, and the agency had given them these as educational material - to watch and learn from. Jongin had liked this particular concert a lot. He didn’t know what Taemin liked, but you had to start somewhere.

Jongin put the DVD on and sat down on the couch. Taemin walked over shyly, positioning himself on the opposite end from Jongin. He sat with his hands between his knees, like he had done in the taxi, staring firmly ahead.

But there was a definite change in him when the music started - his eyes became alive, and he leaned forward, as though mesmerised by what he was seeing. Jongin smiled to himself - he knew what Taemin was feeling.

At times Jongin couldn’t help but sing along to the songs (though he wasn’t much of a singer yet - the agency had refused to give him vocal lessons because his voice was still breaking), and he felt Taemin’s gaze on him, gentle and joyful - although it did make Jongin shy.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. His brown eyes had a new twinkle in them.

The concert was a long one - almost three hours (Jongin dreaded the day he would have to perform for that long, and at the same time he was dying to do it already). They had been sitting there for almost two hours when Jongin noticed that Taemin was slouching - like a wilting flower. Though he couldn’t hear it, Jongin saw that Taemin was breathing raggedly.

“Taemin?”

The boy turned to Jongin.

“Do you need to go to bathe?”

Taemin didn’t reply immediately - it was as if he didn’t want to bother Jongin.

“I’m fine…”

“You should go,” Jongin insisted, pausing the DVD.

Taemin didn’t reply. Neither did he move.

“Come. I’ll… I’ll help you,” Jongin said, and offered Taemin a hand, if a little reluctantly. The boy took it gratefully, however. He barely had any strength in his fingers. Jongin squeezed his more tightly and walked him to the bathroom.

“Do you know how to use the…?” Jongin asked, pointing at the faucet. The question sounded incredibly stupid - of course Taemin would know how to use it.

“Yes. Thank you,” Taemin replied quietly, and began to undo his bathrobe.

Jongin shut the bathroom door quickly, before he got an eyeful.

As the water began to run in the bathroom, Jongin tiptoed back to the living room, once again painfully conscious of his indecision and helplessness.

He went to his room and turned on his laptop. His fingers trembling, he Googled for different emergency services. Whose concern (besides Jongin’s) Taemin was? He found missing person hotlines, homeless shelters… But even then, if Jongin managed to figure out what to do with Taemin, he’d have to get Taemin to agree to it - he’d have to propose these things to Taemin, and do it as gingerly as possible, because Taemin seemed to be in a very fragile state.

Nevertheless, Jongin reported a sighting of a possibly missing person with the Missing Persons Bureau, hoping that it would be his first and last time to do that. Then he sat back at his laptop and pondered.

Jongin was suddenly aware that he had not showered after his jog. He must have smelled bad. But he had not heart to force Taemin out of the bath, and he wasn’t mad enough to shower while Taemin was watching, so he opted out.

He only returned from his thoughts when he heard Taemin getting out of the bathtub. To busy himself with something, he quickly went to make a bed for Taemin in the living room - though he had no idea how Taemin was going to make it through the night. The night seemed very long all of a sudden, and Jongin felt a pang of hopelessness on Taemin’s behalf. Once finished with the bed, Jongin went to his room to get changed. He heard soft footsteps outside his door - coming there, waiting...

Taemin was standing there, wearing Jongin’s bathrobe.

“I made you a bed in the living room,” Jongin told Taemin when he came out of his room. Taemin looked towards the living room.

“I… I think it’s my turn to go there now,” Jongin said, motioning towards the bathroom.

“Okay,” Taemin answered.

“I’ll be right back.” You bet I will, Jongin thought - I don’t want to find you looting the place. “You can finish the DVD if you want.”

“Okay,” Taemin said again, turning his head ever so slightly towards the TV.

“I’ll be right back,” Jongin repeated, and then made his way hesitantly to the bathroom.

He showered and brushed his teeth hurriedly, all the while listening for any unusual noise in the apartment. Fortunately there was none.

Jongin stepped out of the warm bathroom. The house was quiet, except for a distant melody, sounding from the TV. Taemin was probably watching the DVD. Jongin walked closer and heard a haunting melody - a woman’s voice singing. It wasn’t the DVD.

Upon one summer’s morning,
I carefully did stray
Down by the Walls of Wapping,
Where I met a sailor gay
Conversing with a young lass,
Who seem’d to be in pain,
Saying, William, when you go I fear
You’ll ne’er return again.

His hair it hangs in ringlets,
His eyes as black as coal
My happiness attend him
Wherever he may go
From Tower Hill to Blackwall,
I’ll wander, weep and moan
All for my jolly sailor
Until he sails home.

My heart is pierced by Cupid,
I disdain all glittering gold.
There is nothing can console me
But my jolly sailor bold.

Jongin saw Taemin sitting in front of the TV, watching a movie. Jongin felt an anxious flip in his belly.

“Uh, Taemin, you okay?” he asked loudly.

The boy whipped around just in time to miss the events unfolding on the screen.

“You okay?” Jongin asked again in a would-be cheerful voice.

Taemin glanced at the TV behind him, drawn in by the sudden noise.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Why are you watching that?” Jongin asked, trying to mask his worry with scorn and striding to the remote. “That fourth movie sucked.”

“Fourth movie?” Taemin repeated, still staring at the screen.

Jongin changed the channel. A mindless variety show was much more suitable.

For the rest of the evening, they sat in the living room with the TV open. It was not the most comfortable of situations, but what else was there to do? Jongin had his laptop on, and he was tapping on it distractedly. Sehun had sent him some dance clips and he was checking them out. He would feel Taemin’s gaze on him at all times, except when he looked up and the boy quickly turned his head away. If Jongin didn’t know better, he would have thought that Taemin didn’t know what a laptop was. A part of Jongin wanted to ask him as to why Taemin was staring at him, but the way Taemin would always blush whenever Jongin caught him was so - endearing, and confusing as well - that Jongin decided to let him be.

“We’ll figure out what to do tomorrow, okay?” he said to Taemin after a long silence, as he closed his laptop and rose from the couch.

Taemin looked at him in interrogation. “Huh? Oh. Okay.”

“Yeah. Um… I think I’ll go to sleep now, so…” Jongin began. “If you need to go and… bathe during the night, just go on ahead.”

Taemin’s unreadable expression softened a little. “Thank you,” he said.

“No problem. Well… good night,” Jongin said.

“Good night,” Taemin replied.

Jongin had trouble sleeping. He stirred every so often, and slept a dreamless sleep.

One time during the night he woke up, and looked at the door. It was open. Someone was standing there. Jongin sat bolt upright, ready to scream, his heart racing.

“Jongin?”

It was just Taemin. Jongin exhaled, collapsing back on the bed.

“Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again!”

But as soon as his fury had subsided, he understood with his night-dulled brain that there must have been a reason for Taemin to be standing there - was something wrong?

“Sorry,” Taemin mumbled, turning away slightly, as though to leave.

“Wait,” Jongin said. “Are you alright?”

Taemin dropped his gaze. His next words came out in a mere whisper. “I’m scared.”

Jongin stared at Taemin. He didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to help another boy the same age as he?

“What are you afraid of?” Jongin asked then.

Taemin stopped in his tracks. “I hear them,” he said, in a faraway voice.

“Hear what?” asked Jongin.

“Seagulls crying. And babies. Babies crying,” Taemin said. “Men jeering.”

Jongin sat quite still, watching the boy anxiously. His frame had shrunk. He was hugging himself.

“You’re just imagining it,” Jongin consoled him.

“Are you sure?” Taemin said.

“Yes. It’s quiet in here. I haven’t heard anything,” said Jongin.

Taemin stared at Jongin for a moment. He stood there, as though waiting for help, until finally he turned away.

© fulushouxi 2016, apart from the excerpts from Mississippi Drowning and My Jolly Sailor Bold.