#20: look in my eyes and tell me yes
Title: look in my eyes and tell me yes
Author: healthywounds
Fandom/Characters/Pairing: Seventeen; Jun/Woozi
Rating/Warnings: G
Challenge # & Prompt: #20: merpeople + pining
Word Count: 799
Junhui still remembers the first time he saw him.
He’d been out for a walk, down on the sand near where the water shoaled and the foamy remnants of broken waves crawled over his bare feet, leaving bubbles in their wake. He liked to take this walk early in the morning, when the sun was only beginning to consider rearing its head for the day, all the sand and waters alike painted by the pallor of dimness and shrouded by the ocean’s lazy fog. Something about the way his lungs filled up with the damp air, the way the crisp sea breeze tickled his skin, made it easier to start the day.
There had been no fog that day, and it was the first time Junhui had ever gotten to see how gorgeously the sunlight reflected off the rippling silver surface as morning crept in to replace night. It was the first time he’d ever gotten to see the colors bleed back into everything, the grays become blues and whites become tans and muddled beiges become sweet pinks. It was the first time he’d ever gotten to see the young man who lived there in the water, perched on a jutting rock and whistling a somber tune that clashed against the beautiful sunrise but somehow still sounded right.
He had a long tail where his legs should have been, silver that started to look purple once Junhui was close enough, and he was certainly the most beautiful thing Junhui had ever seen. His skin was reflective and crystalline, eyes deep and molten, and his hair fell in feathery, tawny wisps down to his eyebrows. As Junhui grew nearer, he turned his head and abandoned his whistling to stare at him, neither harsh nor welcoming.
“Who are you?” he asked. His voice sounded like a song, a sliver of the deepest part of the sea, and Junhui wanted to hold onto it.
“I’m Junhui,” he told him, inching closer. “Who are you?”
“Jihoon.” It had a mesmerizing ring to it that Junhui’s brain wouldn’t let go of. Junhui reached out without thinking, his hand its own master, but stopped when Jihoon flinched, eyes angrily trained on his fingertips. “Don’t do that,” he said. “You can’t touch me.”
“Why not?” Junhui’s fingers curled back in reluctantly, palm falling instead against the rough surface of the rock. He imagined how much smoother it might have been to feel Jihoon’s pearly skin, his iridescent scales.
“It’s not safe,” Jihoon said brusquely, turning his eyes back to look out over the water. Every wave rolling in danced in his irises, dynamic and eternal, crashing and crashing and crashing for the rest of time. “You and I aren’t the same.” Steam began curling off his sparkling skin as the sun climbed higher and higher, and he hummed out a few more melancholy notes before adding, “I have to go.”
“If I come back,” Junhui asked tentatively, “will I see you again?”
“If you look for me,” Jihoon said, eyeing the horizon. Without another word, he slid into the depths of the water and out of Junhui’s sight.
Yes, Junhui still remembers that day, and every day after it, too. Every day he’d gone down for his walk and peered hard through the fog until he thought he could see a silhouette resting upon it, thought he could hear a sad little song drifting his way through the haze. He’d call Jihoon’s name and hear a hum in response, ask him a question and get naught but a single word, extend his hand and be told not to touch. Jihoon would leave with a muted splash every day in the same manner, every day for years and years and years.
They’d told Junhui to stop wasting his life looking for a man who lives in the water, but he hadn’t listened. When they said he needed to get married and settle down, he hadn’t listened, and it’s too late for him to listen now.
Though Jihoon hasn’t changed at all, Junhui certainly has. His knees are too weak for him to walk on the sand where the water shoals and the broken waves leave bubbles at his feet, and his eyes are too clouded for him to see through the fog. He can feel that the day will likely end for him before it does for others when he rises from his bed, but he looks out his window and down to the beach, and he sees no fog.
Perhaps he’ll take his rusted knees for one last walk. Perhaps his aching eyes will fall on Jihoon just one last time, crumbling ears hear one last solemn note. Perhaps, with his warped fingers, he’ll finally be able to feel that beauty for the very first time.
Author: healthywounds
Fandom/Characters/Pairing: Seventeen; Jun/Woozi
Rating/Warnings: G
Challenge # & Prompt: #20: merpeople + pining
Word Count: 799
Junhui still remembers the first time he saw him.
He’d been out for a walk, down on the sand near where the water shoaled and the foamy remnants of broken waves crawled over his bare feet, leaving bubbles in their wake. He liked to take this walk early in the morning, when the sun was only beginning to consider rearing its head for the day, all the sand and waters alike painted by the pallor of dimness and shrouded by the ocean’s lazy fog. Something about the way his lungs filled up with the damp air, the way the crisp sea breeze tickled his skin, made it easier to start the day.
There had been no fog that day, and it was the first time Junhui had ever gotten to see how gorgeously the sunlight reflected off the rippling silver surface as morning crept in to replace night. It was the first time he’d ever gotten to see the colors bleed back into everything, the grays become blues and whites become tans and muddled beiges become sweet pinks. It was the first time he’d ever gotten to see the young man who lived there in the water, perched on a jutting rock and whistling a somber tune that clashed against the beautiful sunrise but somehow still sounded right.
He had a long tail where his legs should have been, silver that started to look purple once Junhui was close enough, and he was certainly the most beautiful thing Junhui had ever seen. His skin was reflective and crystalline, eyes deep and molten, and his hair fell in feathery, tawny wisps down to his eyebrows. As Junhui grew nearer, he turned his head and abandoned his whistling to stare at him, neither harsh nor welcoming.
“Who are you?” he asked. His voice sounded like a song, a sliver of the deepest part of the sea, and Junhui wanted to hold onto it.
“I’m Junhui,” he told him, inching closer. “Who are you?”
“Jihoon.” It had a mesmerizing ring to it that Junhui’s brain wouldn’t let go of. Junhui reached out without thinking, his hand its own master, but stopped when Jihoon flinched, eyes angrily trained on his fingertips. “Don’t do that,” he said. “You can’t touch me.”
“Why not?” Junhui’s fingers curled back in reluctantly, palm falling instead against the rough surface of the rock. He imagined how much smoother it might have been to feel Jihoon’s pearly skin, his iridescent scales.
“It’s not safe,” Jihoon said brusquely, turning his eyes back to look out over the water. Every wave rolling in danced in his irises, dynamic and eternal, crashing and crashing and crashing for the rest of time. “You and I aren’t the same.” Steam began curling off his sparkling skin as the sun climbed higher and higher, and he hummed out a few more melancholy notes before adding, “I have to go.”
“If I come back,” Junhui asked tentatively, “will I see you again?”
“If you look for me,” Jihoon said, eyeing the horizon. Without another word, he slid into the depths of the water and out of Junhui’s sight.
Yes, Junhui still remembers that day, and every day after it, too. Every day he’d gone down for his walk and peered hard through the fog until he thought he could see a silhouette resting upon it, thought he could hear a sad little song drifting his way through the haze. He’d call Jihoon’s name and hear a hum in response, ask him a question and get naught but a single word, extend his hand and be told not to touch. Jihoon would leave with a muted splash every day in the same manner, every day for years and years and years.
They’d told Junhui to stop wasting his life looking for a man who lives in the water, but he hadn’t listened. When they said he needed to get married and settle down, he hadn’t listened, and it’s too late for him to listen now.
Though Jihoon hasn’t changed at all, Junhui certainly has. His knees are too weak for him to walk on the sand where the water shoals and the broken waves leave bubbles at his feet, and his eyes are too clouded for him to see through the fog. He can feel that the day will likely end for him before it does for others when he rises from his bed, but he looks out his window and down to the beach, and he sees no fog.
Perhaps he’ll take his rusted knees for one last walk. Perhaps his aching eyes will fall on Jihoon just one last time, crumbling ears hear one last solemn note. Perhaps, with his warped fingers, he’ll finally be able to feel that beauty for the very first time.