Chapter Text
I’ll be home late, today.”
Home, the siren had learned, meant a tiny one-bedroom sandstone cottage snuggling up closely to the ledge of a steep cliff. Encased in the arms of jagged rock formations, the small, grassy, nearly circular hilltop was hidden from prying eyes and only accessible via a narrow path alongside the cliff face.
He’d also learned that the nearest place remotely akin to civilization, a microscopic harbor town, was located about half a daytrip south-east. It barely comprised more than a few quays, a tavern, a townhall, and a couple of market stalls at which the man purchased the few necessities he couldn’t provide for himself.
“There should be fresh milk somewhere on the kitchen counter. Eggs, too, if you’re hungry. The leftover soup is in the pot on the hearth, but I think, we’ve finished off the bread last night. Please, remind me to bake some more later, darling!”
Jungkook had learned quite a few things over the two weeks he’d spent with the man.
He’d learned that the man kept a stubborn, old goat and half a dozen hysterical chicken in a wobbly shed a few steps behind the cottage. There was a small, slightly overgrown garden next to it, where the man cultivated all sorts of vegetables and herbs which the goat unfortunately seemed to find equally as delicious. He’d heard the man scold the greedy animal more than once, voice stern but layered with good-natured exasperation, after it had been yet again munching away on whatever sage and rosemary the man was trying to grow.
“Let me see… oh, the eastern passage should be free of ice, by now. Perhaps, the first merchant ships have found their way over here, already. I’ll try to find us a few nice oranges. Lest we risk you suffering from scurvy. Tsk. Not on my watch, darling! Want me to get something else for you?”
He’d learned the man was generous. Not that this observation had come as a particular surprise. Although, admitting to the indisputably positive traits of the human fool was certainly a teeth-clenching task for the siren.
From the first moment onward, the man had continuously offered Jungkook the larger share, whether it was a bowl of stew, half an apple, or even his own bed. Ever since the siren had come to stay with the man, the latter had slept on a thin straw mat in front of the open hearth without as much as a single word of protest or complaint. Even after their ugly early-stage confrontation had rendered things between them considerably frostier, that munificence towards him had never lessened in any way.
However, the man had let not a single opportunity slide to tease and prod at the hostile siren. And he’d done so with that same charming, bordering on smug, smile and a knowing glint in his chestnut-colored eyes. In the absence of any feasible alternatives, Jungkook had resorted to ignoring the man as best as he could. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t all that easy with little to no other distractions.
“Did you hear me?”
Jungkook had also learned that whenever they spoke, which wasn’t too frequent due to his outright refusal to interact and the man’s natural quietude, he’d be granted the absolute entirety of the other’s attention. Unlike most of their shared hours, the man was fully present in those moments, intransigently engrossed in their exchange.
Sometimes they did use actual words, when distance made it imperative to be crossed by sound, for example, but more often than not they merely drew on gestures and wordless communication.
From the outside, the other was a man of few words, quiet, almost ghost-like as he moved through his days with feline grace. Everything about him was strangely muted, from his low, rumbling laughter to the way he turned the pages of his books with utmost care, as if even the whisper of rustling paper sufficed to disturb his peace. And he had a certain habit of immersing himself in everything he did, until he’d be so focused that the rest of the world simply… ceased to exist.
From reoccurring experiences, though, Jungkook had learned how the man downright loathed to be jostled or taken by surprise in those moments. Which could’ve certainly become one of his favorite pastimes had he not found that unmistakable flicker of vulnerable panic in the other’s gaze. He’d learned that there was a lot to read in the other’s expressive eyes if he only bothered to look a little deeper beneath the surface. And for whatever reason he felt repulsed by that look of blank horror he’d found hidden underneath nonchalance. Of course, rather than taking those emotions at par value, Jungkook had told himself he’d simply wait for the best, the most terrifying, most traumatizing moment to abuse his knowledge. After all, the jump-scares would probably lose their effect soon enough if he resorted to them on a regular basis.
“Alright, darling, if there’s nothing else, I better get going then. Celestial bodies hardly ever wait in their gait for an ordinary human. Oh, and please, please, don’t overdo it again, I beg you. It took me three hours to go over your stitches after last time.”
The last time, he’d fallen out of bed face-first, ripping open whatever healing progress his body had managed thus far, solely because he’d been a little too impatient and lot too proud to wait for the man’s help when getting to his feet. The reopened wounds had been burning like he’d taken a stroll through a forest fire, but his pride had taken the bigger hit. To his dismal, it had turned out standing was indeed harder than he’d anticipated. Keeping balance, too. Just like numerous times prior, it had only been the man’s quick-witted hand wrapped around his torso that had saved him a broken nose on top of all the other new and old bruises gracing his body.
At least there had been no teasing involved after that humiliating incident. The other had simply sighed, gently helped the siren back to the edge of the mattress and then started patching up the wound from anew without another comment.
They’d still never traded names, mainly because the siren had refused to stir their conversation in that direction again. Frankly, there was not a single chance he’d admit to being curious about the other. His pride be damned. Although, he’d begun to be, against his will, by virtue of endless boredom. Reluctantly at first, yet more greedily with every passing moment, he’d gone on and stealthily watched and learned a little bit more about the man, hour by hour, day by day. Dusk ‘til dawn.
Thus, Jungkook had learned another bunch of trivialities such as that the man couldn’t handle spicy food or the taste of red beans or too much garlic. The latter made his nose scrunch in a weird, bordering on adorable manner, while the former left his face resemble the hue of a sun-kissed tomato, mouth opened wide, tongue sticking out like a dog to gasp for air as if he’d been suffocating or sprinting for his life.
He preferred philosophy, especially ancient Greek authors, over historical texts but loved astronomy above all. Jungkook had caught him reading Homer’s Odyssey at least twice in the last couple of days, closely followed by Plato and Socrates. There was a tattered copy of Aristotle’s ‘On the Heavens’ balancing precariously on the edge of the study and judging based on the countless dog ears and hopelessly cracked spine, ‘Sidereus Nuncius’ by Galileo Galilei must’ve been another favorite.
He chose to wear linen, cotton and soft, worn-out leather in neutral, white, beige or earthy tones, but never clothes that were too tight or stiff and he hardly ever buttoned his shirts all the way up to the collar. Not that Jungkook felt any particular urge to complain about the slender, yet well-defined chest muscles, or the elegant, fine-cut clavicles peeking through the gaping lapels, every now and then.
He seldom took off his boots around the house, only untied the laces and stripped off the worn fabric when he lay down to sleep. Though, he seemed to be somewhat of an insomniac, staying up far into the night, reading or writing or carving wood or even just absent-mindedly staring into the flames, only resting for a handful of hours every night. And even during those few hours of sleep, he seemed tense, fidgety, tossing and turning before exhaustion finally set in and paralyzed his limbs in a deeper slumber.
He always locked his door twice, the key dangling from a simple hook by the door frame and proceeded to check several times throughout the day. And that wasn’t the only thing the man seemed to worry about. He never seemed to drink more than a fingerbreadth of liquor at any given time, consciously or unconsciously clinging onto every bit of control he could.
And today the siren had learned there was an ominous iron chest hidden under that one creaky floorboard by the study, full to the brim with gold doubloons, that the man only ever touched with hesitant fingers. Curiosity had bubbled in Jungkook‘s throat then, urging him to open his mouth and finally let the flood of questions spill over. But he’d kept quiet. For now.
Jungkook had learned that the man’s voice was deepest after waking up, gruff and a lot less eloquent when he’d greet the siren with a muffled ‘mornin’ before digging his nose back into the cushions. He’d learned the man usually liked to sleep on his stomach, face pressed into the thin matt, black curls an unruly mess. And he certainly was no morning person, at all.
But then again, he hated coffee, although the scent of it made him smile so he prepared a jug every now and then, just to savor the bouquet. He put copious amounts of sugar in everything and guarded his precious tin of cocoa like a ravenous dragon. Yet, he’d set his possessiveness aside every day to brew a second mug of hot chocolate for the siren after noting Jungkook‘s longing glances about a week into their wobbly truce. Generous.
Jungkook had learned that the other was an excellent storyteller, albeit a little eccentric, muddle-headed and oddly creative and he’d swerve left and right off the storyline at every opportunity, diving head-first into every possible or impossible rabbit-hole. But, although Jungkook still considered him an idiot, the man possessed incredible knowledge bordering on wisdom about virtually anything and everything imaginable. And he was humorous, witty even, once Jungkook finally yielded and allowed himself to regard the smart remarks and constant favorable teasing for what they were. Funny. And a little socially awkward beneath layers upon layers of charisma and charm. The longer they shared a home, the more Jungkook concluded that the other was only a little offbeat and a lot lonely – an all-too acquainted sentiment.
He’d learned that the man mostly used his ink on poetry or writing letters for other people which he currently carried under his arm, folded neatly and prepared thoroughly to be shipped off at the harbor. But ever so rarely, he’d rummage around and pull out a heavy paper stack. The man never talked about it, merely shrugged when asked about what he was working on, but the siren could see the glimmer of wary excitement and wistful determination in the other’s dark eyes.
Whatever it was, it must’ve been important. And Jungkook began to wonder how it might have felt to hold something so dear, to cherish something so much that the sole existence would make pure adoration bloom on his face – an utterly unknown sentiment.
Jungkook had learned that the now familiar pet name he’d been dead set on hating for the eternal remainder of his existence, had slowly crept its way into his bitter siren-heart. Not that he necessarily appreciated or encouraged the use of it, but more and more often he caught himself naturally reacting to it. Like now when his head nodded towards the door against his will.
“Sweet. Have a lovely day, darling! Before I forget, I found the copy of the book you were looking for last night. It’s a little dusty and ragged but, well, I left it on the side table.”
Jungkook had learned the man was at least equally as observant. He’d never outright mentioned searching for that specific collection of short stories, merely mumbled his reluctant agreement when the man had expressed his favoritism toward the author.
It should’ve made the siren uncomfortable how well the other had managed to read his cues in such a short amount of time and, frankly, it did. Quite a bit.
But despite the siren’s much less than favorable opinion regarding anything and everything remotely human, he’d found it increasingly difficult to associate that same hatred with that human fool in question. Had struggled to do so ever since that day he’d confronted the siren about his hypocritical ignorance, and admittedly rightfully so. Even if that thought alone felt like a betrayal to his kin. But he couldn’t help it.
After all, the man cared deeply enough to put up with Jungkook‘s malignance and laconic sarcasm and the walking experiments that frequently ended in new cuts and hematomas and that one time he’d tested his siren call on the goat which both confirmed the magic was still working and that the front door was not as sturdy as he had thought when met with the onslaught of two-hundred pounds of meaty body mass plus horns. It had taken the other almost an entire day to fix the gaping hole, and another to reassemble the stacks of books the goat had crashed into.
Apparently, the man had an infinite supply of patience and gentle goodwill. And, hell, it had been so God damn long since the siren had felt cared for. He’d almost forgotten what it was like, having someone go out of their way to make sure he was comfortable, or warm, or fed, or simply content.
Soothing, like a gentle hand stroking his hair. Consoling, like a soft voice humming a lullaby. Reassuring, like a warm smile on a late winter’s day.
Already, keeping up his hostile act left him increasingly uncomfortable, as if it was nothing but exactly that, a mere act. All those conflicting emotions, his pride, his past and present, values and world views waging war inside his mind only amplified that calm, collected voice of reason calling him out on his bullshit. It sounded a lot like his oldest brother, by choice rather than by blood, reminding him that a century of life experiences was more than enough to know when to drop the act.
Thus, amidst all the chaos and to his utter bafflement, Jungkook allowed himself to realize that perhaps he, too, cared. Just a teeny, tiny bit.
Of course, he still felt like a literal fish out of the water, despising his confinement to a strange bed in a strange house with a strange man. A human. His natural enemy. Whom he was forced to depend upon. And who made fun of him at every chance, meeting his sarcasm head-on and maneuvering the conversation right back into Jungkook‘s territory as if they were playing a game of catch.
And it wasn’t even because he knew the siren couldn’t fight him in his current state. Not without his magic, anyway. He just did, almost… playfully. And then he’d place a bowl of freshly picked mulberries into the siren’s hand and laughed his honeyed laugh. And Jungkook fucking cared. Huh. Not a lot. Just… a little bit. His interest was but a sapling, a tiny, fragile seedling planted amongst the ruins and the ash and rubble just shy of his crippled heart.
“Hey!”
The man stopped in his tracks, elegant fingers resting lightly on the door handle. Chestnut eyes, lingering on the siren even before he’d all but shocked himself by calling after the other, now focused on his face. He surveyed the siren expectantly, a polite smile rising to his rosy lips.
“What is it, darling?”
Jungkook swallowed. He’d opened his mouth without thinking, led by instinct alone. So, what was it now? Why had he felt the urge to hold the man back? The man. The other. The idiot. Maybe there was his answer. He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t ask again, and he wasn’t one to go back on his word.
And still… maybe it was his turn to offer a token of… not necessarily trust. He wouldn’t go as far. But goodwill, perhaps. Just a little bit. Baby steps.
“I- my name. My name is Jungkook.”
The siren cringed internally at the obvious uncertainty in his awkward introduction but forced his expression to remain stoically blank. Well, technically he’d kept his promise to himself – he hadn’t asked, merely offered. He couldn’t tell which was worse. Though, the smile he received in return was unlike any other he’d been gifted by the man before. Rich with pleasant surprise. And for the first time in a while, it was truly warm. So warm. Supple cheeks, uncharacteristically clean shaven, were bunching up, forming an adorable boxy shape, as his eyes disappeared in an oh-so-soft squint. It made the slip-up almost worth it. Almost.
“It’s my pleasure, Jungkook.”
Never mind. Worth it. So worth it. A different shudder traveled down the siren’s spine when his name left the other’s lips. How long had he not heard his name in a voice that wasn’t his own? Two decades? Longer? Never? Never so… foreign, so rich, so sweet, a forbidden delicacy. Two syllables languidly rolling from the man’s tongue like a stray droplet of exquisite wine. Something leady wrapped around his chest, trapping the breath in his lungs. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. Or was it?
“I’m Taehyung. Nice to meet you, at last.”
#
“You did what?”
Taehyung fought the urge to roll his eyes right back into his skull.
“Look, what was I supposed to do? Leave him to die?”
There was a permanent knot in at least half of the muscles along his spine from sleeping on a thin straw mat for two weeks straight. He’d hoped his body was going to get used to the new circumstances a lot quicker after spending half of his lifetime in some shabby hammock. But, alas, twenty-something years old bones didn’t receive such maltreatment with as much of a warm welcome. Whatever. The siren had been in a more dire need of a safe and comfortable place to rest. What did it matter if his back protested a bit every now and then? Although right now he would’ve very much appreciated at least being able to reach the sore muscles and massage some of the tightness away. Or take a long bath in a hot spring. He swallowed an ardent moan. What a dream come true.
“Taehyung, it’s dangerous!”
Taehyung knew that the other meant well. He saw the true worry for his benevolence written all over the man’s lovely features, but he couldn’t stay serious even if his life had depended on it. The last two weeks had effectively shifted the boundaries of absurdity from barely within eyeshot into wholly unknown territory and truth be told, his patience was running a little thin after being tested times and times again by a certain ill-tempered merman.
“Nah. He’s adorable, actually. A little grumpy, maybe, if you don’t feed him quickly enough,” he quipped, taking a long drag from his beer. And promptly scowled. Disgusting. There was genuinely not a lot he really, whole-heartedly missed after leaving civilization behind and seeking solace in solitude, the ocean, and a myriad of books. However, beer, actual, real, not brackish water-flavored, ordinary beer, was close to the top of the short list.
“I swear to the ass-crack bottom of the ocean, living alone in that matchbox library at the end of the world makes you lose your marbles. Are you naïve, plain stupid, or fucking insane? He’s a siren!”
Taehyung threw a pointed look at the beautiful man sitting across from him, legs elegantly draped over another as he lounged in the battered chair like a god on their throne. Index finger following the rim of his pitcher, Kian narrowed his eyes. He’d take that bullshit from other people but certainly not from his friend.
“So what?”
“How can you be so dense? He’s a monster!”
A muscle in his jaw started ticking at how tightly he pressed his teeth together to keep the uglier words from slipping out. He wasn’t going to mime the knight in shining armor riding into battle to defend the siren’s honor, a man he’d started to find somewhat enjoyable but barely knew, at the end of the day. No, but he’d throw himself in the path of any harm – verbal or physical – directed at the man opposite him anytime. Never mind that this time it had been that very man who had pulled the trigger on himself.
“How can you, you of all people, be so cruel? All of you are driving me insane, I swear to God! What’s with this… this hogwash?”
“Because I know, Taehyung! Me of all people, I should know!”
Taehyung shook his head vehemently, refusing to register the flicker of old pain and resignation on his friend’s face. Rubbing at his tired, stinging, red-rimmed eyes, he sighed. They’d had that conversation countless times already with virtually the same outcome again and again. And yet, to him this whole discussion was ridiculous, pointless, a waste of breath as Jungkook – he was still mildly surprised that the siren had revealed his name – would’ve put it. There was simply nothing to discuss.
“How long are we friends now, Yoon? Fifteen years? Twenty? You’ve never given me a single reason to believe that nonsense. Not one. And neither did he.”
Alright, maybe that last part was a wee bit of a white lie. Rationally speaking, there had been a handful of rather convincing reasons, but Kian certainly had no intention of sharing that spicy little detail with his friend. What he didn’t know…
“I’m not as naïve as you all paint me to be.”
Hm. He’d probably come up with at least a couple of living beings in ardent disagreement with said statement but again, why bother creating worries where there was no need? Regardless, he did decide to backtrack a step or two on his argument for the sake of honesty.
“Fine. It’s true, I’m but a foolish human. Trust me, I’m aware. But I’m not stupid, nor insane, and I won’t close my eyes and walk past someone who clearly needed my help. I won’t stand by and watch someone die again, Yoon. Never again.”
Taehyung met his friend’s gaze, shared memories weighing heavily on their shoulders.
“I know, kid. I know,” Yoon whispered, eyes softening at last.
Neither of them dared to break the silence for a while, both drowning in a never-ending onslaught of emotions. They both had their own demons to wrestle with, both suffering for different reasons, each seeking forgiveness for different sins, and yet the waves hit them all the same. Guilt. Shame. Fear. Horror. Pain. Despair. Weakness. Hopelessness. Failure. Guilt again. So much guilt. Perhaps his friend was right, after all. To some extent. Perhaps there were monsters, hiding somewhere inside all of them, human or not. But he hadn’t come to this sorry excuse of a tavern in the sleepiest of harbor towns to dwell on his past. Not this time.
“Anyway, I do not appreciate you talking down on people I care about.”
Taehyung playfully held up a scolding finger and let it dangle in front of the other man’s face in a very transparent attempt to brighten the mood. The latter eyed the finger with a raised eyebrow and mild incredulity. Taehyung shrugged and grinned, tapping the other’s nose and quickly drawing the limb out of reach before the other could nip at the finger. The older let out an annoyed huff, before caving and eventually granting him a fond smirk.
God, he’d missed his friend. Missed him like the shore missed the waves when the tide was low. Missed him so much that his friend’s absence had carved a permanent cavern into his soul, filled with a sea of salt, water and memories. Missed him enough to leave his self-imposed exile to meet the other against better judgement. Bathing in the comforting glow of the other’s silent appreciation now, he couldn’t care less about the heavy hood of his cloak, permanently pulled low to obscure his face. He felt as safe as he did everywhere, nowadays. Safer even, in the other’s reassuring presence.
“Mhm, so you care about the little fish?”
A mischievous glint lit up a pair of sharp, cat-like, onyx-colored eyes. Sneaky bastard.
“Oh, fuck off!” Taehyung shot back a little too abruptly, a little too loudly, instinctively covering his fiery red ears. The smirk grew into a knowing grin. Sneaky bastard, indeed.
“Easy, sweet cheeks, someone might end up thinking you’re having a little crush on a cute, grumpy siren-boy.”
The beautiful man leaned back in his chair with a satisfied hum, long fingers nonchalantly drumming on the armrests. Taehyung groaned, sending a short, deft prayer to whatever celestial being would listen and asking for the ground beneath his feet to open up and swallow him whole. Naturally, the urgent plea went unanswered. Well, it wasn’t like he’d expected the Gods to suddenly change their mind and care after twenty-something years.
“Shut up, grandpa! You know full-well I’m not talking about that fish!” Taehyung wined gruffly, trying to hide his face behind raven bangs, skin hot and flushed a bright pink shade of scarlet.
He wasn’t one to get flustered easily but his friend had his ways to push all the right buttons. The man in question merely clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
“Have some respect for your elders, will you? You’re awfully bratty today!” his friend grumbled, looking no day older than twenty-five, while the first fine fissures of age slowly crept across Taehyung‘s own skin like the fresh roots of a seedling. Decades of foremostly physical labor, all spent under the open sky, had left its imprint on his honey-hued skin. Sunlight had created cracks to flitter through and illuminate the darkness it had found inside the human hull.
Aging, to him, was by no means a bad thing, after all, most commoners never made it past three or four dozen winters. Him aging was simply a fact. An unmistakable proof of finitude. And a bit of an annoyance when at times his bones cracked like brimstones and his spine felt twisted beyond repair. Or when his back protested against sharing his good mattress.
“My apologies, someone’s rubbing off on me, I guess.”
Taehyung donned a wry smile, thinking of the siren’s persistent pout, making its appearance whenever things wouldn’t go according to the silver-haired male’s will – which was practically a constant occurrence. Taehyung wondered if no one ever told the man how his childish frown essentially undermined every bit of his snarky, threatening demeanor.
“I still think you’re insane, my boy.”
He said it softly, accepting the inevitable with amicable enervation.
“That makes two of you,” Taehyung mumbled under his breath and stifled a yawn.
He’d only left his lonesome sanctuary for a few hours and already longed to return to the safety of a perfectly uneventful existence. This tavern was too crowded, hectic and stuffed with lost souls, jugging down piss-poor beer in a mindless trance either to remember joy or forget the lack of it. Something about the listless lifting and lowering of chipped pints beard a semblance to slave laborers, monotonously working their picks into sedimentary. Each mouthful was another clonk, clonk, clonk, taking them farther underneath the surface and away from the hopeful flicker of sunlight on their petrified faces.
“In all honesty, though, you look tired, Taehyung.”
Did he now? He wouldn’t have noticed. For how he religiously avoided every mirror.
“Proves to be a little more challenging than I’d anticipated to sleep nice and tight with a sword of Damocles dangling over your head,” he joked half-heartedly, following the grain of the wooden tabletop with his index finger. “It’s fine, though. I’m fine.” He was. Today he was.
“What’s with this hogwash?” his friend mimicked Taehyung‘s earlier words before locking eyes in a rare urgency. “This is madness, Taehyung. You cannot keep running and hiding forever.”
“Hm. Watch me.”
He really missed his home. The coziness of a compact universe that fitted onto the earth’s fingertip. The ever-present ocean breeze harmonizing with the calming waft of lavender. The countless lilac blossoms clustering the clifftop, dormant now, yet only a matter of weeks from shedding the heavy blanket of frost and greeting spring in full, blooming ornate. The heady, slightly musty but somehow pleasantly earthy smell of leather book covers. The sharp, distinct scent of fresh ink on his quill, then less prominent when dry and mixed with the woodsy aroma of paper. Not this tasteless stench of unwashed bodies, sour beer, rotten fish and carelessly piled up filth, torturing his senses.
He took a shallow breath through his mouth to hopefully lessen the relentless pounding of his head. Maybe he was tired. He couldn’t exactly remember the last full night of sleep if he was completely honest with himself. And maybe the prospect of walking back the many miles to his little piece of heaven had become a little lot more intriguing now that leaving so-called civilization behind no longer meant returning to loneliness.
“Can we leave the assessment of my mental health for another time?” Taehyung all but begged earnestly before the silence could continue for too long. “Rather tell me what you’ve found out? Please, Yoon?“
The dazzling male opened his mouth, clearly wanting to protest but hesitated. The tip of his tongue pinched between two rows of pearly-white teeth, he took in Taehyung‘s genuinely piteous expression for a moment and reconsidered with a grunt.
“Don’t give me those eyes. It’s not fair!”
“What eyes?”
“Oh, you know exactly what you’re doing, you little brat!”
“I do not know what you are talking about, good sir, and I do not appreciate the implication of me using improper means on my most trusted companion!”
“Yada yada, skip the ass-kissing, there’s no need.”
“Yep, hence I’m your favorite.”
It earned Taehyung an eyeroll and a feeble swat on the wrist, but he could clearly read the toneless confirmation from his friend’s lips as they moved to form the words and finally stretched into another warm smile. And Taehyung knew he had won.
“Fine. There’s not much to tell you, though.”
There never was. No wonder. The ocean wasn’t called ‘The Big Pond’ for no reason. Those waters stretched endlessly in all directions. Tracking the whereabouts of a single ship plus crew was bordering on impossible. And yet his friend had never given up on trying.
“They were last seen in the far south, somewhere over in the Caribbean, bothering merchant vessels on their way back from the spice hexes down there but it’s been weeks since my sources have spotted the Singer. Rumor has it, the old man blew a few down again. Made them walk the plank. Seokjin found a body he thinks he might’ve sighted on deck once, but you know how he is. They’re all the same to him. Namjoon said they’re down a dingy, so maybe a handful got abandoned?”
“Wouldn’t put it past the old bastard,” Taehyung mused thoughtfully, ignoring the slightly fresher sting of guilt and shame. “Did they mention anything about a new… captive?”
“No. And, frankly, I don’t think he’ll manage to catch one again before the Crown takes him out for good. Thank the Gods for his overgrown ego, or else he’d sail under their protection, and we’d fight an uphill battle not even we can win. That one night two decades ago, that was mad luck, both on his end and ours. And there are not many of us left anyway. The ones that are still out there somewhere, we remember. He won’t get his hands on us a second time.”
Remember, that they all did. And what did it get them in the end? A lifetime spent in crippling fear, always sleeping with one eye open, gaze sent over one shoulder at any given moment, or was that just him? Not today, though. Today he was fine. Today he’d learned a name.
“Doesn’t hurt to be careful, though. Just a week ago a bunch of corpses washed ashore not far from here. It’s been the talk of the town. Some fishermen say, they’ve come across what is left of that wretched Queen May. Went out to see for myself. Pretty gruesome scenery, I can confess. Spilled guts and fire and all. Lacks a little finesse but overall great artistry.”
Taehyung snorted, spitting the mouthful of sour not-beer across the table.
“So, he didn’t make that up,” he muttered to himself with faint amusement.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing. Go on, please.”
“Taehyung.”
“Anyway, do you think I’m good for now?”
“Yes.” The man nodded. “For now,” he added, cracking his knuckles and Taehyung sighed, guilt eating him up from the inside out like a family of flesh-eating parasites.
“Thank you for doing this, Yoon. I don’t even know how I can ever compensate you for everything you’re putting yourself through to keep me safe. All of you. Don’t think, I’m ever taking it for granted!”
“Stop that, kiddo. It’s nothing. If anything, you can think of it as us repaying an old debt. And someone’s gotta look out for you, too! Just see what happens when I let you stumble out of sight for a month.” Yoon blew an audible breath through his nose while rolling his eyes skyward. “Goes out and adopts a stray siren, my ass.”
“You make him sound like a pet.”
“I do, huh? Don’t tell him. He might threaten to eat you.”
“Oh, he already did. Those were his first words.”
“Hm. Adorable.”
“Adorable, indeed,” Taehyung confirmed with a chuckle. “Apropos, how’s Jimin doing?”
“Peachy,” the other growled with very see-through faux frustration. “Keeping me on my toes half of the time, making me want to tear out every last hair on my skull every other day, and being a sneaky little shit, always.”
“In other words, you love him very much.”
“Of course I do.”
Taehyung laughed, finishing the last bit of his dish-waterish drink.
“I don’t think, I’ll ever fully grasp the relationship between the two of you.”
“Oh, trust me, I don’t, either. It’s the beauty of it – keeps it interesting, I suppose.”
“I swear to-” Taehyung stopped mid-sentence, his eyes catching the fateful flitter of red and white by the entrance of the run-down tavern.
“What?” His friend followed Taehyung‘s gaze, dark eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of the uniformed men with feathered hats and their muskets slung over one shoulder. “Marines.”
“That’s my queue, Yoon. I’ll better head home, anyway, before the little silverfish gets hungry and decides to have my poor goat for a late afternoon-snack.”
“Silverfish?”
“Hm? Oh, yes. His scales were bright silver when I picked him up from the shore. His hair, too, after I’ve washed out the blood and dirt,” Taehyung explained distractedly while scanning the smoky room for an ideal escape route. “Tell Jimin, I said ‘hi’, please. I miss him. The others, too, if you come to meet them! And again, thank you so much, Yoon! You’re a true friend.”
“Taehyung, wait! What did you say was your siren’s name? Tae!”
But Taehyung had long disappeared into the crowd of unassuming towners, merely another cloaked figure among many others, leaving the beautiful man’s question unanswered. And with it an iceberg of possibilities, hopes, and fears, the other had believed to remain submerged in the depth of the ocean forever.
#
“You’re late.”
Taehyung closed the door and turned the key twice. Just to make sure. Just to be safe.
“I told you as much,” he simply replied and smirked and then, because he couldn’t bite his tongue quickly enough, he added another quip. “Did you miss me?”
The siren ignored his teasing remark, arms crossed, chin held high, looking about as majestic as one could, with little clothes, a lot of bandages, and an unruly, pearly gray bedhead.
“Did you get those oranges?”
I lieu of a proper confirmation, Taehyung nodded, pointing at the bag he’d discarded on the kitchen counter. A smudge of bright orange shone through the half-closed flap.
“Good. Show me how to peel them.”
And that was that. It really felt good to be back home.
#
“What are you reading?”
Jungkook lightly kicked the blanket that had gotten tangled up around his legs. It didn’t bother him as much as it had before, the fabric scratching lightly against his sensitive skin, reminding him of the unwanted, unnatural, humanoid shape that still replaced his beloved tail and fin. Not that he was going to admit that out loud. He’d rather suck on his own toes.
“Hey, human!”
For a split second, Jungkook debated making use of his newly gathered puzzle piece. Taehyung. The human had a name now. But the possession of that information would feel a lot weightier if he exercised an iron-willed type of control and thus restricted the use of it.
Names bore indisputable power. Withholding the other’s name despite knowing about it gave him an air of superiority, an upper hand. Or maybe Jungkook was just petty. Realistically, it was a bit of both. Well, neither seemed to matter because the other wasn’t even listening. The man – Taehyung – exhaled, long and weary, a certain indication he was worn out or tired, but still, he didn’t make any indication that he’d noticed the siren’s best attempt at a civil conversation.
“Aye, fool!” Jungkook repeated, voice layered with just the tiniest swirl of his magic for good measures.
It didn’t work, naturally, but a siren could try. And bad habits tended to continue dying excruciatingly slowly, especially after having spent a century or two perfecting them.
In response to the utter lack of reaction, Jungkook stretched out one lithe leg, the other securely folded at the knee for stability, bottom lip wedged between sharp teeth as he focused on the precision of his movements. Who would’ve guessed that coordinating not one, but two limbs would require so much more concentration? Instantly, his itchy, healing wounds joined the vehement protest of his abdominal muscles suddenly tasked with keeping a fragile balance between his upper and lower body halves.
Thankfully, he’d managed to persuade that finnicky mother hen of a man to finally remove the stitches along the lengthy gash in his side last night. No longer feeling a bunch of threads tearing at his skin like someone was desperately and not very sweetly trying to reap some deep-rooted crop from the soil with every minor movement was a god-damn blessing.
“Dude!” The siren held his breath, muscles taut as he reached out to nudge the man’s shoulder with his pointed toes. Gently. He’d learned his lesson. Though, he might as well have slapped the other right across his gorgeous face.
Flinching violently, Taehyung dropped the book like it had burned his palms while spluttering a badly butchered stream of rather creative curses. Impressive. Jungkook might’ve found his master, at last. Only when his flitting gaze found the siren’s hovering foot a few inches from where his body had been slouching against the backrest, Taehyung relaxed back into his rocking chair, trembling hands interlaced in his lap. He exhaled, eyes squeezed shut, lips moving silently as if he was counting to himself, before he allowed the lids to slowly flutter open, huge, black pupils zeroed in on the waiting silver-haired merman.
“Apologies. I’m…” Taehyung smiled weakly, briefly eyeing the ceiling in search for the right words, lips tiredly quirking in thought. “It’s your fault, really.”
His fault? Excuse him? Oh, that man had some nerve! Jungkook half-snorted, half-snarled, eyes squinted in warning, eliciting a huffed laughter from the man. The sound was surprisingly soft, tired and drawn, but genuine. Not a trace of fear, no sign of alert. Jungkook couldn’t stop his head from shaking at the apparent absence of any sort of natural, human reaction to his predatory displays, any kind of self-preservatory instincts.
“Let me explain, before you threaten to eat me again,” the man asked and winked. He fucking winked at Jungkook with that forsaken, gut-wrenching lop-sided smirk that did all sort of funny things to the poor siren’s intestines. Pure resentment towards the impudence, obviously. But why were his ears heating up like furnaces then, every time that damn smile was as much as directed at him? Pathetic. Jungkook was a pathetic idiot, and his body was a bloody traitor, and life was fucking unfair and-
Taehyung‘s eyes never left the siren, brows furrowing as if in confusion before his forehead smoothed out. Jungkook watched with horror as the man’s smirk grew wider, the corners of his mouth twisting into his very own version of a shit-eating grin. That stupid fucking bastard! Who did that gorgeous asshole think he was? Winking at him and then grinning about it? This time, the siren’s snarl wasn’t half-hearted at all.
“Hey, easy merboy, I’m just messing with you.”
Oh, that merboy would give him ‘easy’, alright! Just watch-
“It’s on me, alright? I’m too comfortable around you.”
“That’s like the first sensible thing you’ve ever said in my presence,” Jungkook countered gruffly, eyeing the man with a sharp, piercing gaze and raised brows, before busying himself with twirling the loose threads of the quilt between his fingers.
“Better late than never, huh?” Taehyung mused lightly.
“I guess.” Jungkook shrugged, torn between fully engaging in a conversation he’d originally meant to begin anyway and being a puerile, vindictive little prick just for the sake of it.
“Oh, certainly. But frankly, it’s not entirely what I was going for.” Taehyung smiled again.
He’d been smiling a whole lot that night, ever since he’d returned from the market. There was a lightheartedness in the creases around his almond-shaped eyes, despite the unmistakable cloak of tiredness weighing down his broad shoulders. Huh. Strange. Not that the other was particularly grumpy on a day-to-day basis, no, he certainly was no match for the resident-resting-bitch-face-champion himself, but after their little quarrel-fallout-whatever situation those brief and much scarcer smiles flashed at the siren had lost a noticeable amount of warmth. Now, eyes crinkling with bubbly, quiet glee, those smiles had returned to their beaming default.
Jungkook unwittingly jutted out his lips, his mind immediately going on an explorative hunt for the most likely source of that unprecedented cheerfulness. Frankly, what else was he supposed to do? Read? Not again, no, thank you. He could read, of course. However, with the approximate attention span of a goldfish the siren wasn’t necessarily cut out for the sort of stationary life he’d been confined to lately. Scanning over a muddled jumble of black ink blurring into intricate, abstract shapes on the very page he’d been trying to make sense of for at least half of the evening promised to slowly but surely sweeten the idea of forking out his own eyes.
Call it boredom, call it despair. Playing wannabe-investigator, snooping about the life of someone he’d sworn not to waste a single thought over sounded like a somewhat acceptable activity by now.
Whatever. Detective Kook, at your service.
Back to the matter in hand. While it wasn’t wholly out of character for the man to just cherish the mere prospective of fresh, juicy oranges in late winter, it would seem a tad bit extreme to harbor such exuberant joy over fucking citrus fruits. Fair enough. So, what was it then? Hm. Jungkook risked another sneaky peek at the infuriating human, still smiling, presumably to nothing but himself.
At first glance, there wasn’t much of a difference. None, really. Chiseled features, lightly shaded by exhaustion and the deep mauve of a few too many sleepless nights, thick raven curls framing a slightly creased forehead, shielding a pair of too perceptive chest-nut-colored eyes. Eyes that had momentarily returned to the book Taehyung must’ve collected from where he’d dropped it to the floor, flicking over the neat strings of letters at breakneck speed.
Indeed, no prominent, surface-level alterations. Yet, after two weeks basically exclusively spent watching that one man and his antics, Jungkook was ready to bet all the money he didn’t have on some sort of impactful occurrence. The devil lay hidden in the detail, as they said, the low, unmelodic hum, the way his shoulders crouched without the slightest bit of tension, the unusual perfect stillness of his ever-fidgeting fingers holding the leather book cover with care.
Ergo, something must’ve happened. But what? Back to square one. How about… Sunshine? They’d been greeted by the first unbridled azure sky that morning, after all. Jungkook had been throwing half-longing, half-envious looks at the brilliant blue.
However, just like with the oranges… it didn’t appear quite decisive, all that important enough.
So, how else could he explain the inexplicable smiley-ness? What made people – humans – happy, these days? Killing puppies? Drowning stray kittens in barrels of rainwater? Watching public executions and witch trials in the middle of town square? Although, the latter was more of a thing of the past, alright. And perhaps he was getting carried away just a tiny bit. As much as it pained him to admit to that, Taehyung seemed… decent enough – for a human. No potent danger to baby animals, at least.
Alright, some possibilities ruled out. No purchase-induced endorphins, no sunlight to cure seasonal mood crunches, no passing of man or mouse, spectacle and not. Maybe… Jungkook scratched the tip of his nose, tongue poking out to wet the bitten lower half of his lips. This whole investigating-endeavor had turned out to be a lot more taxing and, unfortunately, fascinating than he would’ve assumed. Granted, the bar was in hell.
The rocking chair let out a deafening squeal as it swung back and forth and back and forth again, set into motion by a mindless, graciously arched foot. Jungkook winced, growling at the merciless, shrill torment to his poor senses. Just like so many other times, though, the man didn’t seem to care, wholly engrossed in whatever he was reading.
Disgruntledly, the siren toned down his enhanced hearing and refocused on the matter at hand. Maybe he’d met someone at the market? Hm. Sure, a bit unexpected given the man’s hermit-tendencies, but not all impossible. He supposed humans hadn’t suddenly shed their social tendencies. Hm. If there had been a meeting… with whom, though? A friend? A lover?
Kook you nosy idiot, don’t you fucking go there!
But of course, just like with that wretched elephant in the room, Jungkook couldn’t shake the thought once it had popped up inside his mind, taking center stage out of all possible corners he’d rather have shoved the thought into. Lover. Why was he suddenly thinking about this?
Anyway, now that he was at it already… What sort of lover would that man… Taehyung, what kind of person would he chose to surround himself with? Would he like someone that made him laugh? Well, he had that kind of laugh one would feel privileged to hear, so… Hypothetically, obviously. Would he look for someone gentle? Caring? Smart? Someone that read to him, hours and hours and hours on end when the outside world was drowning in thunder and lightning and the overwhelming waft of petrichor and the inside world was reduced to a cozy microcosmos, distilled into nothing but a blanket, a candle, and the breath they shared? Someone that wrote him love poems, sonnets, composed romantic ballads and crafted dexterous odes to his beauty?
Jungkook cringed.
Stop. Kook. No. Not one step further.
“Pardon me, Jungkook. If I am not wrong, you had some sort of inquiry earlier?”
The siren jumped on his cushion; ears positively set ablaze. In all embarrassing honesty, Jungkook felt wholeheartedly grateful for the hoarse, prehistorically worded distraction. And the use of his name was a nice touch. Fuck the pink elephant.
There was enough muddled up chaos inside his pea-brain. Words. Where were his words. And what sort of muddy gibberish had left the other’s pursed lips? Inquiry. Ah, of course.
“I was asking about that one.” He pointed at the bundle of paper in Taehyung‘s hands.
“Huh?”
“The book, dumbass. What are you reading?”
“Oh. Umm… Homer. The Odyssey.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why’?”
“I mean, why? Why again? I’ve seen you leaf through it at least three times in these past two weeks. So, like, why? What’s so… captivating, or whatever… about it?”
“Oh, I see, darling. I see. You’ve been watching me quite ardently, haven’t you? Shall I feel flattered?”
Taehyung winked, another infuriating smile blooming menacingly on his lush lips. Though, this time again, it didn’t fully reach his eyes. Or rather, it did. But the spark, that all-too-familiar bright little light of wry amusement appeared muted, all but swallowed by something more mysterious, something hesitant. Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder why. And, more than anything, he knew a not-so-stealthy attempt to dodge an unwelcome question when he came across one.
“Sure thing, fucktard. It’s not like your humble shoe-box at the end of the god-damn world offers much other entertainment. Now, stop stalling, princess, will you. Answer my question or fuck off.”
“Very civil, darling. Impressive choice of vocabulary. Here I was, thinking we’d have buried the figurative hatchet over that delicious, expertly peeled orange, at last?”
“Yeah, well, think again, honeypie. Hey- yah, where do you think you’re going?”
“Oh, isn’t it obvious? I am fucking off, as you’ve so eloquently elaborated,” Taehyung mused, voice gruff, gravely but sonorous with good-natured sarcasm as he took a few tentative steps toward the general direction of the front door. “Frankly, darling, I am a little spent, certainly far too tired to come up with some well-drafted tall tale, so I won’t bother insulting your intelligence. And I sure as day don’t feel like answering your question. Adieu.”
Large, veiny hands were raking through tousled raven curls, lean biceps straining against the threadbare material of an old, much-loved linen shirt when Taehyung groaned vocally at a lazy back stretch, strolling through the skewed portal into the darkness and nudging the sturdy wood closed with a careless heel. Low, rumbling chuckles followed the muffled crunch of booted feet on dry gravel. Jungkook casually did a double take, jaw all the way to the floor, incredulous eyes wide like saucers, staring at the shut door, bathing in the echo of black honey laughter.
That sassy bastard.
“Oh, fuck you!” He whined at nothing and no one, biting his lips.
Of course, that gorgeous idiot would manage to outdo him, yet again. Grunting unabashedly, Jungkook fell back onto the mattress, hissing at the inevitable shot of agony at the impact. Nose scrunched, brows drawn close, he kicked his feet, giving the random human-coded movement no second thought, too consumed by stifling the inaudible breathless giggle bubbling in his throat.
God, what the hell was he doing?
#
Later, long after the moon had reached its pinnacle, traversing across star-specked tenebrosity on its endless quest to chase the sun, the siren found refuge in Orpheus’ tender arms. And for the first time in decades, there was no horror, no fear, no rage, no gruesome mosaic of painful, shame-filled memories, both real and fueled by imagination, haunting his unconscious hours. For the first time in decades, Jungkook dreamt of warmth, of sweet, supple citrus on his tongue, of rosy lips drawn into a lazy smile, of thousand sparkling lights illuminating a pair of chestnut colored midnight-eyes, oblivious to the same pair of midnight eyes watching over his sleep. Peace. Perhaps above everything he’d apprehended in those past weeks spent in the lion’s den playing house with his arch nemesis, Jungkook had finally learned of peace. Actual, true, all-encompassing peace.
And wasn’t that the scariest lesson of them all?