Chapter Text
[moodboard by cata]
~ ~ ~
When the late summer sun began to descend on the sea just beyond the docks, Jeon Jeongguk swore he could see a galaxy of stars on the watery surface. If the setting sunlight was angled just right, it cast a luminescent glimmer onto the ebbing and flowing water, and it bled right into the watercolor sky where the sea met the horizon.
The Marine Mammal Rehabilitation Centre in Busan was situated on the shores of Haeundae-gu, South Korea, and from one of the outdoor rehab areas, Jeongguk had a perfect view of the sunset. It was closing in on six o’clock, which meant that the sun had just begun to set, so the water was sparkling, twinkling like something straight out of an animated movie or television show. Jeongguk was wearing his khaki slacks and black collar short-sleeved shirt—one uniform option choice—but all he wanted to do was strip down and run to the beach, possibly wade into the water and enjoy the view as the gentle waves lapped against his shins. He had always been fascinated by the water, had always craved the beaches and sand, had always been curious about what was beneath the surface, a life that existed on the same planet but was so different from land mammals. It was what had led him to his career.
Just this morning, the MMRC had rescued an injured male sea lion on the beach. The sea lion had supposedly put up a magnificent struggle upon being wrangled to be taken into the rehabilitation center, but now the beautiful creature was in their care, and Jeongguk was the aquatic veterinarian on the clock slated to take a look. They still had yet to determine what had injured the sea lion, though Jeongguk was fairly certain it had been a boat rudder. They were located right on the shores of Busan, after all, which meant beachgoers and boat enthusiasts and all sorts of human activity interfered with marine animal life.
The sea lion had been x-rayed already, and Jeongguk had taken a close look at the x-rays and the data taken so far. He and his team of interns and volunteers had taken a sonogram as well and had removed the intubation a few hours ago, the injury prominent on the sea lion’s tail end. Said sea lion, though, was in particularly good spirits.
mood: “ekki hugsa” by ólafur arnalds
“Just feed him.” Jeongguk laughed, watching the sea lion swim around the small pool in circles, head lifted to the sky as he let out a few noises. Jeongguk’s colleague, Kim Namjoon, reached into the bucket with gloved hands and tossed a fish up into the air. The sea lion immediately lifted his head and caught the fish to devour it. Jeongguk clapped his hands a few times and walked over to the edge of the little pool, and the sea lion followed and hopped up onto the edge, head lifted eagerly.
“He’s doing well,” Namjoon commented, setting the bucket down and shuffling over in his black rubber boots. He was a marine biologist, but he enjoyed being at MMRC so much that he had asked for a job, and they had hired him part-time. “Been crazy out there today with people on their boats. Lots of fishermen, I heard. Nice weather for it. How’s the injury?”
“He’s healing well,” Jeongguk replied. “I think one more treatment early morning will do him. We’ll probably set his release for tomorrow at sunrise.”
“How long are you here for?” Namjoon asked, offering another fish to the sea lion. The sea lion hopped up to the edge of the pool, scooted down the ramp on its flippers, and took the fish right from Namjoon’s waiting hand. Namjoon added, “Go on, get back in there. Come on, back in the water. Good job. Don’t you bark at me, I know you’re happy.”
Jeongguk chuckled as the sea lion noisily barked a few more times, slipping back into the water obediently. It always amazed Jeongguk how quickly his team was able to facilitate trust with these creatures they rescued, how they could build rapport and create an environment where the animals were happy to comply while knowing it was in their best interests and kept them safe. Jeongguk could still remember the time he had risked his neck to build trust with a baby great white shark by jumping into the little pool, and the shark had swum circles around him before nudging at Jeongguk’s ribs with its nose and then finally accepting some food after swimming the perimeter twice.
“I’m leaving in… twenty minutes. But it’s Friday,” Jeongguk said, and Namjoon let out a short laugh.
“Ah, right. Your beach night,” he said. Every Friday evening, Jeongguk returned home from work, ate something, and then walked five minutes from his little cottage to a small stretch of beach in Haeundae, where he resided. During his walk, he often picked up trash and checked to make sure that the beach was clean and clear of any hazards that would potentially harm marine life. It didn’t take him too long, maybe thirty or so minutes around eight or nine o’clock when the beach was vacant, but he was consistent. He had rescued a few beached fish and even a jellyfish once, but otherwise, it was always a peaceful opportunity to enjoy being close to the sea, to take a little walk in the sand with nature’s music, the waves lapping against the shore.
“I’m working Sunday,” Jeongguk said to Namjoon. “Are you coming in? Plenty of octopuses on the weekends. Remember that one they brought in to us with a net caught on all its tentacles?”
“I couldn’t eat calamari for a week,” Namjoon joked tiredly, and Jeongguk snickered. “Yeah, I’ll be in on Sunday. I’m doing a dive for some water samples, and I wanted to keep an eye on the fish population right off the shore there.” He pointed vaguely. “I’ll likely be in the lab, though, not slinging fish at a sea lion. Isn’t that your job?”
“You know damn well it’s not my job,” Jeongguk said with a small smile. He was twenty-seven-years-old and had spent almost nine grueling years in school to become an aquatic veterinarian, and working at the MMRC was his first full-time, paid gig. The MMRC worked in tandem with the Busan Marine Life Aquarium, too, which meant that Jeongguk had hit the jackpot. He was also quite fond of working where he did because the aquarium only housed marine life that was high-risk or in the process of rehabilitation. Sometimes the exhibits were empty because that particular animal was not in need, or it wasn’t the season. The aquarium was a hotspot for schools and for interested tourists to come for a quick education on how to properly care for marine life.
“I’ll make Yoongi do it,” Namjoon commented, and Jeongguk grinned, watching with crossed arms as the sea lion swam around the pool happily. Min Yoongi was director of the MMRC, a quiet and kind genius with a PhD in marine biology and another doctorate in veterinary medicine. He was also Namjoon’s boyfriend of three years, and Jeongguk was always amazed by the two of them and how well they got along. Namjoon was pansexual and Yoongi was bisexual, and the two of them had met and hit it off so fast that by their sixth month together, they were already living under the same roof.
“He would like it too much,” Jeongguk said with a little sigh, feeling fond. He got along quite well with Yoongi, mostly because Yoongi had such an open mind that absolutely nothing surprised him, and he always entertained Jeongguk’s musings. Namjoon was a man of strict science and sometimes just pacified Jeongguk when Jeongguk started talking about how he was certain that dolphins could read. Yoongi typically sat down and asked if Jeongguk assumed dolphins better understood Cyrillic or Latin alphabets, or maybe if they had dabbled in Hangul or Chinese characters.
“The right person—” Namjoon grunted slightly as he lifted up a little bucket with fish in it to carry back to its proper spot— “to ask to feed all the fish would be Hoseok.”
“He’d smack you. Are you doing anything fun this weekend?” Jeongguk asked, smiling at the idea. Jung Hoseok was the Head Aquarist, supervising marine animal care for the entire aquarium, and he was constantly looking after the animals’ feeding habits. When Jeongguk had been interning with the rehabilitation centre, he had fallen into bed with Hoseok for about four months or so before they had both admitted that although the sex was great (Hoseok knew how to rail Jeongguk within an inch of his life while still being a sweet ball of sunshine), they were better as friends. Hoseok was the one person Jeongguk could go to just for a pat on the head or a word of reassurance, or even a swift kick in the ass. Jeongguk had surrounded himself with decent friends who all loved marine life the way that he did, and that was the exact reason why he was thriving.
“Yoongi wanted to make a trip to Daegu, but I don’t really feel like it. So I might convince him that he’s too tired,” Namjoon said with a dimpled smile and a wink, pulling off his rubber gloves and tossing them aside before ruffling his brown hair. When Jeongguk had first met him, Namjoon had had platinum blonde hair. But because he had started doing a fair amount of dives, he had lost the bleach and had stuck with a more natural hair color to save his hair from being destroyed.
“Alright, well, let’s get this little one somewhere safe,” Jeongguk said. “Yah! Heeseung-ah! Yeonjun-ah! Come get your sea lion!”
Lee Heeseung and Choi Yeonjun, both university students and interns, hustled into the room, both of them grinning as if they had just pulled off a fantastic prank. Jeongguk didn’t even want to know, because if he knew, he’d want to be involved. Heeseung and Yeonjun both bowed profusely to Namjoon as Namjoon waved while washing his hands, and Jeongguk watched as the two interns encouraged the sea lion out of the pool and through the large doorway, coaxing it and acting like fools to keep the sea lion interested enough to follow. Heeseung did a few ridiculous high kicks and Yeonjun wiggled around, and the sea lion was out the door.
Jeongguk cleaned up for the day, mopping and sanitizing the floors and filtering the water in the area pool, glancing over towards the pinewood dock railing to watch the sun set lower against the horizon. There was something so mesmerizing about a good sunset, something worth capturing to memory.
“I’m out for the day,” Namjoon called, saluting Jeongguk by the door. “Take care, Gguk.”
“See you Sunday, hyung,” Jeongguk said, propping up the mop with a smile. Soon after, he grabbed his backpack and keys and flicked off the lights, making sure that all the instructions for tomorrow morning were ready for the Saturday shift. Then he walked out into the sand parking lot and hopped into his black pick-up truck. He didn’t love having one because of the lack of fuel efficiency, but it made things a lot more convenient, given his career. Sometimes the centre asked him to use it to transport materials or even animals rescued from the beach in emergency cases.
Jeongguk turned down a small dirt one-way path, his heart already settling. His parents sometimes wondered why Jeongguk didn’t live in a nice high-rise apartment building, but Jeongguk loved where he lived. Down the dirt road, there were a grand total of five distanced little cottages that backed up onto the water. Jeongguk’s home was the cottage at the very end of the road, made of beige siding with a lot of sand on the front lawn and overgrown shrubbery and old trees. He pulled into his gravel and sand driveway, hopped out, and walked through his front door. Once inside, he was right at the kitchen, and beyond the kitchen was a little living room area with a door to the dock that led all the way down to the water. To the right of his kitchen was his bedroom, and he was lucky enough to have a large bathroom with a shower and a bathtub, a luxury for most.
Jeongguk tossed his backpack onto one of his barstools, and then he yanked open his fridge to see what he had—not much. Tired, he pulled out some pork to quickly fry up, and he made some spicy ramen to go with it. After scarfing down a quick meal while scrolling mindlessly through social media, he went and brushed his teeth and changed into some swim trunks and a t-shirt, and then he slipped on his shoes and walked out his front door with nothing but his keys, his phone, and a tiny little flashlight in case the moonlight and the orange streetlights from the distance weren’t enough.
The beach was about a five-minute walk from his cottage if he cut through the high grass and brush instead of following the road. Jeongguk took the easy route, enjoying the warmer May weather and the smell of the saltwater thanks to the sea breeze. He stepped into the flat sand and started to walk the beach, scanning for any trash that he could pick up or any sharp seashells that needed to go back into the water. He walked closer to the water and tossed a few with all his might as the gentle waves came up along the shore, and then he jogged back to the looser sand and continued walking, bypassing the lifeguard stand.
“What…?” he whispered to himself, because when using his flashlight to casually scan, something had caught his eye, something that looked shiny. Perhaps it was an animal that had washed up during high tide, since the beach wasn’t very large. Jeongguk had seen it many times before in his life—a wounded sea creature such as a large fish, a shark, a jellyfish, even a whale, beached against their will thanks to high tide and erratic swimming patterns, or thanks to human error such as netting or plastic and pollution. But this creature was further back from the shoreline, just beyond the lifeguard stand and hidden in the brush and rocks. For a creature to wiggle that far, even with high tide, was very unlikely.
“Excuse me? Are you okay?” Jeongguk called out, because he could only assume it was a human, given its distance from the water and the initial shape he could make out as he walked closer. “Are you okay? I’m coming, hold on,” he added mostly to himself, traipsing through the looser sand. “Excuse me? Are…”
Jeongguk trailed off, and then his knees buckled, ankles wobbling in the sand, his body nearly giving out on him, failing him rapidly. There was no netting or plastic. It wasn’t a teenage couple getting frisky late at night. It wasn’t a misplaced wanderer or person without a home using the symphony of the sea to lull them to sleep. Instead, as Jeongguk ripped his phone out of his pocket and shone a brighter light, he heard a horrid hissing noise that made him flinch. He retracted the light and set it on the edge of a rock, but it provided enough lighting for Jeongguk to take a look.
What… What was he looking at?
mood: “partial” by ólafur arnalds
The first thing he saw was a long tail with a fin, the colors so luminescent that even in the dark, Jeongguk was startled. The moment the light hit it, the reflection was phenomenal. It was an ever-changing rainbow pattern in shades of dark blue and emerald green, some flecks of lighter blue, every scale shimmering as if alive. Jeongguk slowly scanned up until he noticed that the tail was slowly fading to porcelain skin, a pixelated mosaic. There were scattered scales traveling up the torso, on the creature’s ribs and obliques, but they faded altogether midway. The scales resumed sporadically on its shoulders and neck, and Jeongguk could see gills on the sides of the creature’s neck. Its skin was radiant. Then Jeongguk’s eyes fell onto its face.
It looked human.
Its face was chiseled and shaped so flawlessly that Jeongguk had to do a double take. The radiant dark blue of the scales was present near its ears and onto its jaw, but then it vanished. Its eyes… Jeongguk couldn’t look away. Its eyes were utterly radiant in a shade of sapphire blue that Jeongguk had never seen on any human before, flecked with silver as it moved its head a bit. And its hair was wet but pushed off its face, seemingly dark blue with streaks of silver.
It was beautiful.
But it was injured. Jeongguk had certainly not missed the absolutely horrific sight of blood mid-tail on this creature, nor had he missed the broken off portion of a harpoon that was buried deep in the flesh. For a moment, Jeongguk had to suspend all belief and see this creature as just another patient—injured and wailing from the wound, hissing in fright. But it looked so… human. It was coiled in a ball protectively, tail and fin curled on itself, wound fully visible.
“Y-You’re hurt,” Jeongguk stuttered, and the creature responded by lunging forward to attack, bearing its teeth. The cry it let out was terrible, though, and it fell back into the sand, crying and curling up again. Jeongguk physically felt his hands begin to tremble in fright. This creature’s teeth were brilliantly white and alarmingly sharp—enough to rip Jeongguk’s neck apart with one bite. There was no doubt whatsoever that this creature was a predator.
Merman. That’s what you’re looking at. This is a merman.
Jeongguk’s brain was screaming at him as he listened to the pitiful, heart-wrenching whimpers and cries of this creature. Everything he had ever learned in his life pointed to this being just a human in a terrible costume, a Little Mermaid wannabe, a cosplayer on the beach. But logically, even though it defied all logic and favored fantasy, this was a merman. A fantastic creature that Jeongguk had only ever seen depicted in books and movies and television shows, a joke to people who lived in beach towns, the grandiose talk of all sailors.
And Jeongguk was looking at one.
“Are you… What’s—Do you have a name? Do you even understand me? Hey! Stop it!” Jeongguk hissed in exclamation as the creature attempted to lunge again to attack. “Stop it, I’m trying to help you!”
The creature’s fin flicked rapidly, even though it cried in pain, but it was clear that it was trying to push Jeongguk away. Its breathing was becoming shallower now, almost wheezing, gills flapping and trembling. It was struggling without any water, and there was no telling how long it had been ashore. Panicking, Jeongguk leapt to his feet, falling and stumbling in the sand several times from the massive adrenaline rush consuming his body. He staggered to the lifeguard stand and climbed it like his life depended on it, and he threw open the door and frantically looked around until he found what he was looking for—a bucket. It was going to be exhausting, but he had to do it, or this creature wouldn’t survive.
“Fuck, Jesus Christ,” he panted as he kicked off his sandals and sprinted towards the water. It was freezing cold at nighttime, shocking his system, but Jeongguk waded in far enough and dipped the bucket low, filling it to the brim with water. He hoisted it out with a grunt, and then he walked swiftly as the water sloshed, all the way out of the ocean and up towards the wounded creature. Sand clung to his wet skin relentlessly, but Jeongguk ignored it as he approached.
"Stop it, stop,” he said as the creature hissed and cried out again upon his reappearance. “You have to be quiet! If someone else sees you, you’re done for! Now stay still, I have some water.”
Jeongguk lifted the bucket, and the absolute rage and fear that he saw in the creature’s eyes was enough to stop his heart. But Jeongguk slowly started pouring the water on its torso, hands shaking. The creature flailed at first, but then it relaxed entirely when half the bucket of water began to run down its skin and scales. Jeongguk lifted the bucket towards its head and gingerly dumped some water over it, and the creature sputtered but did nothing to retaliate.
“...There,” Jeongguk whispered, watching the creature’s gills move and its chest rise and fall steadily. “Is that better? Are—shit, shit, okay. You—Do you need more?”
The creature had reached its arms again, one hand whacking the bucket repetitively in a very clear and communicative gesture for more water. Jeongguk leapt to his feet and ran like his life depended on it back to the water, his heart racing as he gathered up more water. He hurried back, and then he knelt down and poured the water slowly up and down the creature’s body. It responded positively, finally relaxing despite the terrible wound. Jeongguk ran down to grab a third bucket of water, but instead of dumping it, he kept it by his side.
Trust.
He had to build trust somehow, because he had to help this creature. The wound was sure to become infected, since the harpoon was a human-inflicted injury. It had to be. This merman could not possibly have the capacity to mend such a wound, as made evident by his current predicament. So Jeongguk cleared his throat and took a deep breath.
“I don’t know if you can understand me. But I can help you,” Jeongguk said, his voice trembling. The creature just stared at him with his brilliant eyes, jaw clenched, seemingly ready to pounce. “I—I work with other—um, creatures or—animals that live in the water. I help them when they’re hurt, and I—I mean, I don’t know the first thing about someone like you, but I can help you. Please let me help you.”
Jeongguk slowly lifted his hands and reached for the wounded area, but the creature let out a horrific hissing cry that echoed. Jeongguk flinched and panicked, waving his hands and lunging forward without thinking, and he smacked his hand over the creature’s mouth.
Fuck.
Jeongguk was certain he was about to lose his hand, maybe his neck. His life flashed before his eyes. But the creature, to his immense surprise, didn’t bite. Didn’t even bear its teeth again. Instead, it reached up and grabbed Jeongguk’s head with both hands, his thumbs against Jeongguk’s temples. Jeongguk panicked for a moment, suddenly dizzy in the head in a way he couldn’t explain, his mind blanking, his world spinning. Then the creature dropped its hands and rapidly shook its head to fling Jeongguk’s hand off its mouth, and Jeongguk obeyed, his vision steadying again.
“Be quiet," he gasped, looking around wildly. “Be quiet! You can’t make noise like that! Someone will hear you , and then you’re fucked! They’ll take you away! You’ll turn into a science experiment!” Jeongguk’s chest heaved as he stared into the creature’s bright eyes, his pulse racing to a point where he felt dangerously close to passing out. The creature didn’t make a single sound. Jeongguk took two deep breaths, and then he slowly began to reach for the wound again. The creature’s noise was low and guttural, an angry warning, but it was quiet.
It was listening.
Somehow, this creature was suddenly listening to Jeongguk. Whether it understood Korean or not was not important. What mattered was that it seemed to understand Jeongguk’s intentions, tone of voice, movements and gestures. It seemed to know that it had to stay quiet, even if it didn’t know why. Trembling, Jeongguk held up a hand to the creature in what felt like a warning. Then he lifted his phone and used the light, bending down as the creature continued to whimper and emit noises while Jeongguk examined the wound.
“Okay. It’s not as deep as I thought. It didn’t go all the way through, but it’s lodged in there. It has to be removed. You understand that, right? I need to remove this. You can’t heal with a broken harpoon in your tail.”
Jeongguk mimicked pulling out the harpoon, and the creature responded negatively, curling up again and hissing quietly, teeth showing. Frustrated, Jeongguk sat back on his heels and crossed his arms.
“Fine. You want to die here? That’s fine. It will get infected, and you won’t have any water, and you’ll just die. You want that? You want to die up here?” Like a child, Jeongguk let his head loll to the side, eyes closed, tongue hanging out momentarily like he was dead. He straightened back up with narrowed eyes. “You want to die up here? Yes or no? Fuck it, you can’t even answer me. Stop hissing at me and let me help you. Can you do that? Can you stop fighting me? Or do you want to die?”
The creature blinked once. Twice. Breathed. Didn’t move otherwise. Jeongguk drew in a breath through his nose to calm himself, and when he exhaled, he realized that he still needed to build trust. He swallowed heavily, and then he pressed a hand to his chest.
“Jeongguk,” he said clearly. He patted his chest again twice. “Jeongguk. My name is Jeongguk.” A few more pats. “Jeongguk.”
Jeongguk pointed quietly to the creature, because it was painfully obvious that this creature had vocal chords and the ability to make noises and sounds. Surely it could vocalize. It was a long shot to assume that it had a name, but Jeongguk had to try.
“Jeongguk,” he whispered. “I’m Jeongguk. That’s my name. Do you have a name? Jeongguk… You. What’s your name?” Jeongguk gestured to himself and then the creature. “Jeongguk… your name. Jeongguk… you. What’s your name? I’m Jeongguk.”
“Jimin.”
Jeongguk nearly fell back into the sand, because he was almost certain he’d heard “Jimin.” The voice itself was… odd. It was quiet, a raspy whisper, musical in nature, sounding like it was being spoken in a dream. Astonished, Jeongguk raised his eyebrows.
“...Jimin?” he repeated, but the creature just stared. Excited, Jeongguk patted his chest roughly. “Jeongguk. I’m Jeongguk.” Then he pointed to the creature. “Jimin.” Back to himself. “Jeongguk.” Back to the creature. “Jimin… Jeongguk. Jimin? You’re Jimin.”
The creature let out a little huff like it was annoyed, and Jeongguk, in return, let out a short laugh of disbelief and delight. Jimin. Its name was Jimin. A goddamn Korean name. It had somehow picked up a Korean name somewhere in the vastness of the world, and though Jeongguk couldn’t fathom how or why, it didn’t matter. He knew how to address it now. Jimin.
“Okay. I—I need to help you. And I need you to trust me. I can’t help you from here. I have to take you back to my house. Do you understand that? I—I can’t carry you, so I need to go home and get my truck. And I’ll bring you home. No one can see you, okay? If someone sees you, they’ll—they’ll take you away. They won’t let you go back to the water. So stay here. Please stay here. God, please stay here.”
The merman just stared at Jeongguk with his radiant eyes, still curled up defensively, but it didn’t move. Jimin . Jimin didn’t move. Jeongguk carefully shifted the bucket of water until it was close to Jimin’s reach.
“Here. Keep this. Use it if you need it. I’ll be back soon. Please stay here,” Jeongguk pleaded. He stood up and took a few tentative steps backwards, and Jimin still didn’t move, nor did he reach for the bucket. Jeongguk continued to walk backwards, and finally, he turned and began to sprint.
Sprinting through sand was not at easy feat, but Jeongguk wasn’t a crack-of-dawn beach runner for nothing. He pumped his arms and ran like his own life depended on it, down the stretch of beach and up onto the rocks towards the little cottages where he lived. Jeongguk still remembered how he had lucked out snatching the last of the five little cottages three years ago, and Namjoon often came over to use the dock so he could take out his little boat and do some work. He was even more grateful now that he lived close to both the MMRC and the beach.
By the time he’d run the five minutes home, Jeongguk’s lungs were burning, and his breath was coming out in awful wheezing noises. He fumbled with his keys to unlock his pick-up truck, and then he leapt in and started it up, panting.
“Fuck, what the fuck am I doing?” he asked himself breathlessly as he peeled out of his driveway backwards at top speed. The tires were none too happy about the fast transition from reverse to drive, but Jeongguk flew down the one-way dirt road and navigated carefully onto the one-way wooden bridge that led straight to the beach. Trucks were allowed to drive on the beach, and because Jeongguk’s job was what it was, he often had an excuse if any patrol found it odd for him to be on the beach in a pick-up truck.
“Please be there, please be there, please be there,” he chanted to himself as he slowed down, approaching the spot where he remembered finding the creature. His heart leapt into his throat as he hopped out of the truck and realized that he could still see the creature’s fin behind the rocks. Jeongguk stumbled over, and when he approached, his appearance startled Jiimin.
“It’s just me, it’s me. It’s me,” Jeongguk said soothingly, still struggling to breathe properly. “I have my truck. I’m gonna—I’m gonna help you, okay? I need to get you into the truck bed and drive you to my house. I can take care of you there. But I—I have to pick you up. I have to carry you.”
Jimin was hugging himself protectively, his eyes narrowed as he listened, surely not understanding a damn word Jeongguk was saying. Frustrated, Jeongguk picked up the bucket, realizing that it was empty.
“Oh. You used the water. Okay, well, it’s not a long drive to my house. So I’ll—stay right here. I’ll be right back,” Jeongguk said. He then ran back to his truck, threw the bucket into the truck bed, and hurried back to Jimin, a strategy in mind as he crouched down. “Okay. I… I have to pick you up. Please don’t bite me. Don’t maim me, I’m begging you.”
Jeongguk scooted on his knees until he was close, and then he drew in a deep breath, noticing that Jimin’s eyes were following him intently, suspiciously.
“I have to pick you up,” Jeongguk quietly said. He then mimed scooping and lifting Jimin up, gesturing over to his truck. Jimin immediately bared his teeth and leaned away, and Jeongguk threw up one arm in frustration. “What the hell do you want me to do? Do you want to die? We’ve been over this! If you stay here, people will find you, and you’ll be done for. I’m picking you up. Don’t bite me, or I swear to God, I’ll throw you back into the ocean.”
Jeongguk would never, but he needed to say the threat out loud to feel better. He also had to hold Jimin carefully enough to not disturb the harpoon lodged in his fin, so he positioned himself carefully. If he were to stand Jimin up on the tip of his fin, he would be taller than Jeongguk, head and shoulders. Otherwise, he was rather petite. Surely his tail and fin were most of his weight. Jeongguk adjusted accordingly, and then he slid his hands swiftly underneath Jimin’s body, between the sand and his tail.
“Shh! Shut up! Stay still!” Jeongguk hissed when Jimin immediately began to thrash, his arms smacking Jeongguk in the face, gasps escaping his mouth. “Stop it! Stay still! Stop!"
Jimin, still gasping, stopped flailing around, and Jeongguk took several deep breaths, the stinging on his face from the smacks fading. Jimin’s body was bowed, his hips dipping between Jeongguk’s arms. Jeongguk had him cradled bridal style about mid-back with his left arm, his right arm supporting Jimin’s fin, the harpoon piece still intact. With haste, Jeongguk then rushed over to his truck, where he’d left the truck bed hatch down. With a little grunt, he lifted Jimin up and set him into the truck bed. Jimin instantly used his arms to push back and away from Jeongguk, sending him further into the truck. Jeongguk closed the hatch, and then he hopped up onto the bumper and joined Jimin.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked. “Hold on. I’ll get you some water.”
Jeongguk grabbed the bucket and jumped out of his truck, and then he hurried to the ocean (his shoes were long forgotten) and filled it up with water. He carried it carefully back to the truck, and then he set it inside the bed and hopped back in. With care, he poured the water over Jimin and onto the truck bed.
“Is that enough? Are you okay? Let me go get some more.” Jeongguk jumped down and retrieved another bucketful of water, returning and covering Jimin yet again. Jimin almost immediately relaxed, his defenses dropping, and Jeongguk crouched down beside him. “Listen. I have to drive home. I’m guessing you’ve never been in a truck or a car before, so here’s what’s going to happen. We’ll start moving. I’m controlling it. It might be bumpy, so you have to be careful and mind your head. Whatever you do, don’t sit up. You need to lie down.”
Jimin just blinked.
Jesus fucking Christ, I’m doomed.
Jeongguk ran his hands down his face, but then he blew out a breath.
“Like this.” Jeongguk rolled and flopped onto his back, and then he laid down on the wet surface beside Jimin and stared up at the night sky, his hands in fists on his chest, feeling a bit dizzy from all the exertion in the past hour. He rolled his head, and then his breath caught in his throat. Jimin was lying down beside him suddenly, his head turned so he could stare at Jeongguk.
“You have to lie down,” Jeongguk whispered, because the way Jimin was staring at him was hypnotizing. His eyes were so beautiful, so alluring, so mesmerizing. Were Jeongguk not in a panic, he would have found it difficult to look away. He blinked rapidly, sniffed, and sat up. Jimin tried to sit up as well, but Jeongguk waved his hands. “ No , no. Lie down. Lie down, Jimin. You have to stay down.”
To his surprise, Jimin slowly began to lower back down, his tail twitching, and Jeongguk took that as a sign to get moving. He leapt out of the truck bed and into the driver’s seat, his hands trembling, and he started up the truck.
Please don’t sit up. Please don’t make any noise. Please be okay.
He turned the truck around in the sand at the slowest possible speed, and as much as he wanted to fly through the sand and back home, he took it easy to avoid making the ride bumpy. He kept checking in his rearview mirror to see if Jimin was sitting up, but Jeongguk saw nothing.
The ride felt like it took hours, when in reality, it was a grand total of six minutes. Jeongguk backed into his driveway, his knees weak as he hopped out of the driver’s seat and rushed to open the truck bed.
“Oh, thank God,” he sighed in relief when he saw that Jimin was still lying there. “Jimin? Jimin.”
He was responsive to his name, at the very least. Jimin lifted his head, and Jeongguk immediately got to work. He reminded Jimin that he would need to be picked up again, and Jimin didn’t flail or protest this time. He seemed to be catching on to the idea that Jeongguk was trying to help, whether he was fond of the concept or not. Jeongguk leapt out to open his front door first, and then he ran back and hopped into the truck bed to pick Jimin up.
“Okay, come to the edge. Come here. Come here, Jimin, I can’t—I’m not standing up in the truck with you. Come here.” Jeongguk patted the edge of the truck bed. “Please. Please, just use your arms. Help me out—yes, yes, yes. Come here, come here.”
Jimin was highly intuitive, it seemed. He began to scoot using his arms while frowning and whimpering, the water in the truck bed making it easier for him to move, and Jeongguk gingerly slid one arm under Jimin’s fin as it slipped over the edge of the truck. He then coaxed Jimin the rest of the way out, and he supported his back and immediately carried him towards the front door.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I know it hurts, I’m so sorry,” Jeongguk whispered frantically when Jimin’s pained crying became louder and louder. Jeongguk sucked in a breath and turned, angling so that he could fit Jimin through his front door, and he used an elbow to turn on a light. Jimin let out a gasping wail, ducking his head and thrashing around as he attempted to cover his eyes.
The light. The light bothered him.
“Shit, shit, shit. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jeongguk apologized, wanting to cry just from hearing Jimin’s gasping wails of pain. If all Jimin had ever known was life underwater (Jeongguk could hardly wrap his head around the concept), then man-made lighting was surely a shock to the system, and to his eyes. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. We’re almost there.”
Jeongguk kicked down the door of his bathroom, not bothering with the lights, and then he carefully placed Jimin into the tub. His entire tail curved upward, his fin draping over the edge, but he seemed okay despite his cries, and the harpoon hadn’t crawled deeper into his tail. Jeongguk dropped to his knees and cranked on the water, making sure that it wasn’t scalding hot. It startled Jimin when the water began to hit his tail, his body twitching, but then he looked at Jeongguk with wild eyes full of confusion, chest heaving as he tried to breath, gills trembling in an attempt to find water.
“It’s a bathtub,” Jeongguk explained, his hands shaking. “It—It will fill with water. Don’t move. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be right back.”
Jeongguk then ran around his house, locking his truck and locking his front door while he muttered nonsense to himself. He drew all the curtains shut and turned off the lights in the kitchen, resorting instead to grabbing candles and a flashlight. Jimin was still sitting motionless in the bathtub when Jeongguk breezed in.
“I need some light so I can help you,” Jeongguk said, setting up all the candles around the edge of the bathtub. He struck a match with trembling hands, and instantly, Jimin hissed and turned away, the water sloshing, his entire being resistant to the fire. “ Stop it, I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, I need to be able to see what I’m doing. It won’t hurt you if you don’t touch it.”
Jeongguk lit five candles as Jimin slowly settled, and then he turned on the flashlight and pointed it at the ceiling, setting it on the bathroom countertop. Jimin’s eyes and head immediately turned upward to stare at the light on the ceiling. Jeongguk briefly considered that maybe it looked like a full moon to him, what the moon would look like from underwater.
“Yes, that’s the flashlight. Now listen—I need to help you out. I’m going to take this harpoon out and I might need to stitch you up if you bleed like a human does. Will you let me do that?” Jeongguk asked. “That’s a rhetorical question. I need to do it so that you don’t die.”
Jeongguk rummaged around through all of his cabinets, muttering to himself as the water still ran, pulling out all of the supplies that he needed to help Jimin out, things he had been holding onto for years thanks to his university studies. He then pulled up a little stepping stool and sat on it at Jimin’s tail end, running his fingers through his messy hair. Then he pulled on a pair of gloves and turned off the water, since the bathtub was full. Jimin seemed perfectly content now that he was nearly submerged in water.
“Jimin.”
Jimin looked over to Jeongguk.
“I have to take this out.” Jeongguk mimicked taking out the harpoon again, and Jimin whimpered, sinking down further into the water until it was to his chin. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s going to hurt. But you can’t scream. You can’t make any sound when I take it out. Do you understand that? Ah-h-h-h-h!" Jeongguk whisper-yelled, and then he covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. “You can’t do that. No screaming.”
Jimin stared, and then he slowly opened his mouth and mimicked Jeongguk’s sound. It wasn’t exactly right, but it was the same whispered scream at a lower volume. Jeongguk let out a laugh of disbelief.
“No, you can’t do that,” he reiterated, amused at the way Jimin had copied him so easily. “No screaming. Shh.” Jeongguk put his finger to his lips. “No screaming. Can you do that? Can you stay quiet?”
Jimin blinked, and then he slowly began to sink further under the water. Jeongguk panicked for a moment, thinking something was wrong, but then he watched in awe as Jimin sank until his back was on the floor of the tub, and his upper half was submerged under the water completely, tail slipping further out of the bathtub. His eyes were open and nearly glowing, and he was staring right up at Jeongguk, chest rising and falling slowly.
He was breathing underwater. That was when it truly hit Jeongguk that he was in the presence of a non-human. A merman. A supposed mythological creature, living and breathing in his bathtub.
“Holy shit,” Jeongguk whispered to himself, because not only had the realization of Jimin being a merman just hit him, but something else had dawned on him—Jimin had just put himself underwater knowing that he was about to experience pain. Now he could scream and cry out, and all the sound would be muffled.
He wasn’t just highly intelligent and intuitive. He was resourceful.
“Okay. Here we go.”
Jeongguk did everything he needed to, disinfecting the area around the wound and examining it to see just how deeply the harpoon had penetrated. It was deep enough to have lodged, but it wasn’t deadly. Surely the human who had done this to Jimin hadn’t had the strength to follow through. Jeongguk glanced down at Jimin, who was still underwater and staring at Jeongguk expectantly. Jeongguk moved his hands towards the broken harpoon piece, and then he looked to Jimin for confirmation.
“I’m pulling this out now,” he warned, even though Jimin couldn’t hear him. But Jimin closed his eyes for a moment, and Jeongguk took that as his way of understanding what was about to happen. With a deep breath, Jeongguk braced the area, grabbed the end of the harpoon, and wiggled it just a little to see if the sharp edge of the harpoon was ribbed or had ridges or anything special. He immediately heard Jimin’s muffled whines and cries underneath the water, but it was barely audible. Jeongguk bent with narrowed eyes, and that was when he determined with a bit more wiggling that the harpoon wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a normal harpoon. So, in one swift motion, Jeongguk gritted his teeth and pulled the harpoon out. Jimin thrashed immediately, arms flailing, and the water sloshed around and over the edge of the tub as Jeongguk pressed a thick portion of gauze to the wound, wondering if it was going to bleed much.
“You did so well, you were great,” he whispered in unheard praise as Jimin began to calm down significantly, his chest still heaving underwater. “So good. That had to hurt.” He lifted the gauze and saw scarlet red blood, but the gauze wasn’t drenched—a good sign, albeit the wound wasn’t pretty. Jeongguk pressed it back down firmly, closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths to calm himself down. He then lifted the gauze and leaned in to check the wound.
“A few stitches,” he murmured, because there was still some blood oozing out slowly, and the wound was deep enough. As if he was the one underwater, Jeongguk dazedly changed his gloves and gathered the materials he needed for stitching up non-human skin. He didn’t even bother to explain to Jimin what was going on. Instead, he just held up the materials, showed Jimin, and gestured to the wound.
“God, this is the work of an amateur. Sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered when he penetrated the thick scales of Jimin’s fin to begin stitching. It was nothing like human skin and nothing like other animals, but Jeongguk could at least stitch him up. Jimin seemed none too happy about it, but Jeongguk worked with haste, adding seven stitches to close up the wound in record timing. The deed done, Jeongguk motioned to Jimin and touched the water, and Jimin slowly rose from the water without a single sputtering breath like the average human.
“Hi,” Jeongguk said softly. “It’s all finished.”
He watched as Jimin sat up and leaned forward, glittering eyes observing his tail without the piece of the harpoon stuck in it. He ran his hands over his tail, and that was when Jeongguk noticed that his hands had some webbing between the fingers. Fascinated, Jeongguk watched Jimin’s fingers flit over the stitching, watched as he cocked his head left and right, examining the area in the dim lighting from the candles and flashlight.
“Um, you’re going to need to be very careful,” Jeongguk said with caution, and Jimin slowly turned to stare at him. Maybe it was dramatic, but it felt like Jimin was staring into Jeongguk’s soul, like he could read the contents of Jeongguk’s mind. “That… That needs to heal. I have no idea if you can get it wet or not, but, um… yeah. You should rest. I need to rest, too. I need to sleep. Well, shower first, and then sleep. But you’re… here.”
Jeongguk had never felt so confused or awkward in his life. He stayed in his kneeling position by the bathtub, Jimin still staring at him. Then, without a single sound, Jimin’s eyes flicked down, and he extended one hand palm-up towards Jeongguk. Dazed, Jeongguk slowly lifted his right hand, and the moment it was within reach, Jimin grabbed it and pulled, and he began to examine it. Brow furrowed, he flipped Jeongguk’s hand over and back again, and then he used a pincer grasp to pull at the little bit of skin between Jeongguk’s fingers.
“Ouch,” Jeongguk said, wincing instinctively. Jimin’s head whipped up as he gauged Jeongguk’s reaction. Then, still burning a hole into Jeongguk with his eyes, he reached between Jeongguk’s pointer and middle fingers and pulled at the skin. “Ouch,” Jeongguk said again, frowning. “Why are you doing that?”
Jimin blinked at him, brow unfurrowed, and then he released Jeongguk’s hand. Jeongguk retracted his hand and curled it into a fist, feeling offended, but then it registered in his mind what Jimin had been doing—testing. Jimin was highly intelligent and intuitive, a very obvious point to Jeongguk. But surely he had very little interaction with or understanding of human beings. Jeongguk had reacted negatively to Jimin checking to see if Jeongguk had webbing between his fingers, and Jimin had noticed. So he had tested out his theory to see if Jeongguk had felt pain, and it had worked.
God damn it. He’s cunning. What am I supposed to do?
“I need to bathe,” Jeongguk said, still not sure if Jimin could understand him but starting to believe that Jimin was like the dolphins that Jeongguk thought about often—highly capable but not willing to share. “And you need to stay here and rest. So can you just… You stay there. Don’t turn around.”
Jeongguk rose to his feet shakily, and then he turned his back and peeled off his wet, sandy, sweaty shirt and tossed it to the floor by his clothes hamper. He almost fell to the floor when he heard an audible gasp and water sloshing. Jeongguk whirled back around, nearly collapsing, when he saw Jimin with his palms pressed into the side of the tub, wincing, struggling like he wanted to get out. Jeongguk raised his eyebrows.
“I said to stay still. You won’t heal if you—what? What do you want?” he asked, because Jimin was reaching out a hand to him. As if he had been compelled, Jeongguk walked forward and knelt down by the edge of the tub, and Jimin’s hand fell right onto Jeongguk’s bare shoulder. Jeongguk shuddered immediately at his touch, but Jimin was trying to turn him around. That was when Jeongguk finally understood. “Oh. Oh, you want to see—” Jeongguk turned around, and chills ran down his spine when he felt Jimin’s smooth, damp fingers dancing across his left shoulder blade. When he was twenty-three, Jeongguk had gotten a tattoo of a whale on his back, a symbol for him, and Jimin had seen it.
“It’s just a tattoo,” Jeongguk said. “It’s—It’s just a drawing on my skin.”
Whether Jimin understood that or not didn’t matter. Jimin pressed his entire palm to Jeongguk’s tattoo, touch gentle, and Jeongguk was certain he was going to pass out. An hour ago, Jimin had been hissing and baring his sharp teeth, probably very eager to rip Jeongguk’s throat out. Now he was touching him with care, fascinated.
“Okay, I need to take a shower,” Jeongguk said. “Can you just… stay this way? Don’t look. Why am I asking a fucking merman not to look at me? God, I’m losing my mind,” he added to himself, and then he walked over to his shower, feeling self-conscious as he kicked off his shorts and slowly pulled off his boxer briefs. There was a bit of movement in the bath water, and as Jeongguk cranked on his shower, he glanced over. “Are you serious?”
Jimin had twisted his torso, and now he was staring at Jeongguk’s naked body with absolutely no shame, eyes scanning and curious. Jeongguk hopped into the shower quickly and vigorously scrubbed off, and then he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Jimin was no longer staring. In fact, his entire upper body was submerged below the bath water again, his tail still out of the water. Jeongguk took the opportunity to run into his bedroom and grab underwear and a pair of pajama pants and shirt, and once he was dressed, he hurried back into the bathroom and stood over the tub. Jimin stared up at him from underneath the water, gills flapping a little as he breathed, blue hair floating underwater ethereally, eyes glowing.
“I’m going to sleep,” Jeongguk said, feeling like a fool. “Sit up so I can talk to you.”
Like he understood, Jimin slowly rose from the water, pushing back his hair. Jeongguk took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
“Listen to me,” he said carefully. “You have to stay here. You can’t leave the bathtub, and you definitely can’t leave my house. It’s not safe. Someone will take you away. You’ll never go back into the water if someone else finds you. Do you understand me? Stay here. Don’t move. Don’t leave.”
Jimin blinked and slowly cocked his head to the side, and then he watched silently as Jeongguk leaned in and blew out the candles, throwing the bathroom into total darkness. Knowing it was probably stupid as hell, Jeongguk brought forward the flashlight.
“This is a flashlight.” He flicked it on and off, making sure Jimin could see how to press the button. “It will give you light if you want it. Don’t drop it in the water, though.” Jeongguk mimicked dropping the flashlight into the water, and then he shook his head. “It’s dangerous. Keep it out of the water. You do it.”
Jeongguk handed over the flashlight, and Jimin gingerly took it from his hands. He glanced up at Jeongguk, and then he used a thumb to press the button. The flashlight illuminated, and Jimin shone it directly into Jeongguk’s face. Jeongguk closed his eyes and turned away a little, trying to be patient. He heard a click, and then he looked and saw that Jimin had turned it off. Jimin then hovered the flashlight over the water.
“No, no!” Jeongguk exclaimed, and immediately, Jimin moved it back and set it on the edge of the tub. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s testing me. That’s how he’s learning things. Shit, he’s going to give me a heart attack. “Okay. Not in the water. Just—Just be careful. I’m going to go sleep. I’m exhausted. I can’t even keep my eyes open. So I’ll just be in here, okay? Look, you can even see me from the bathroom.”
Jeongguk backed out of his bathroom, and then he grabbed his blankets and pulled them back, crawling into bed. The foot of his bed faced the bathroom door, which meant that if Jimin turned his upper body, he could Jeongguk lying in bed. His heart racing, Jeongguk reached over and flicked off his bedside lamp, inwardly panicking because he had a fucking merman in his bathtub and there was no guarantee that Jimin would be there in the morning. The moment the room went dark, though, Jeongguk heard a strangled cry from the bathroom, so he nearly fell out of bed turning his light back on.
“What, what? What is it?” Jeongguk asked frantically, heart slamming against his ribcage. Jimin didn’t even look distressed. He was just sitting up in the bathtub, upper body turned, looking indignant. “Are you hurt? Why are you screaming?”
Jimin blinked a few times, but then he just turned and put his back to Jeongguk, sliding underneath the water without another word. Was he mad that Jeongguk had left his side? Did he need something? Was he trying to communicate? Jeongguk hated all the uncertainty, hated the frustration that came with being unable to speak to Jimin or figure out what he was trying to say.
It didn’t matter, though. Not right now. Right now, Jeongguk had to pretend that he didn’t have a merman in his bathtub. He had to pretend that his night hadn’t taken an absolutely phenomenal and unexpected turn for the weird. He had to pretend that he wasn’t going to wake up to a strange creature in his home.
Jeongguk lay back down slowly, his eyes trained on Jimin’s tail in the darkness of the bathroom. He had no idea how fast Jimin could heal, or if he would heal at all. Jeongguk still wasn’t sure if it was all a fantastic prank or not. He would have assumed it was a trick had he not witnessed Jimin breathing underwater multiple times.
Maybe in the morning, he would wake up to an empty bathroom.
***
Jeongguk expected to toss and turn all night, but when he came to consciousness, it was morning. He cracked his eyes open just a little, seeing only a blur, and then he blew out a breath with his eyes closed.
Had last night really happened? Was it a dream?
Jeongguk sniffed quietly and opened his eyes all the way, and the moment he did, he let out the most horrific, hoarse shout he’d ever produced in his entire life.
“Hello. What are you doing?”
Jeongguk grabbed the sheets and yanked them up to his chin, body frozen in shock as he stared with wide eyes, the adrenaline rushing through his veins at such a rapid rate that his poor heart could barely function.
Jimin was still in his home, and he was no longer in the bathtub. He was now on Jeongguk’s bed, kneeling with his knees pressed to Jeongguk’s right hip, staring down expectantly at Jeongguk like Jeongguk was a science experiment. His eyes were still radiantly sapphire blue with flecks of silver, and his hair was still the same ethereal blue color, but his skin was porcelain and inhumanly smooth, unmarred, and the scattered blue, faded scales on his body were confined to his hips and obliques. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so his toned, slender body was on full display. He was, however, wearing a pair of black track pants that looked like they belonged to Jeongguk.
Pants.
His tail was gone. He looked almost entirely human.
“Y-You can talk,” Jeongguk gasped, still shielding himself defensively. Jimin slowly cocked his head to the side as he surveyed Jeongguk like a meal, and then he held up his own hands and took a good look at them, just like he had done last night. Jeongguk watched in paralyzed semi-horror as Jimin laced his fingers together and stared.
mood: “sudden throw” by ólafur arnalds
“Very odd, the lack of webbing that human hands possess,” he said in perfect Korean. He dropped his hands into his lap. “What are you doing? You’ve been in this position for a long time with your eyes closed. Are you hurt?”
“J-Jimin, what…?” Jeongguk’s knuckles were turning white. “Are—Are you…? You’re not… going to hurt me, are you?”
Jimin blinked once. Twice. “What purpose would hurting you serve me?”
“I—I took you away from the water. I—I did things to you,” Jeongguk whispered senselessly.
“I thought it would have been wise to kill you,” Jimin said forthrightly, and Jeongguk raised his eyebrows. “I had several opportunities when you first approached me on the beach. I wanted to do it then. I should have. But then you brought me water, so I determined that you were offering help. I thought to kill you again when you picked me up, but I then realized that you were helping me again. You did a lot of that.”
“Wh-What, helping you?” Jeongguk asked, his voice several pitches higher than normal. Jimin was outrightly admitting to his desire to kill Jeongguk multiple times, and his tone of voice was so frank, so nonchalant.
“Yes. I chose not to kill you when you placed me in that… thing,” Jimin said, turning towards Jeongguk’s bathroom and pointing. “I believe you called it a bathtub. Very useful.”
“You’re… You’re talking," Jeongguk whispered in disbelief, because Jimin’s voice was so lovely and so jarring simultaneously. It was softer with a musical lilt to it, a hypnotizing singsong intonation, as if he was opening his mouth just to make beautiful music. He spoke with such eloquent intellect, but there were very obvious gaps in his knowledge that Jeongguk noticed right away.
“Yes, I’m talking. I practiced while I was in your bathtub. It’s very new for me, but so is this form. I’m adjusting,” Jimin said simply.
“You’re… You look human,” Jeongguk slowly said, and Jimin nodded once.
“Yes. I’ve never been in human form for this long, but I’m enjoying it.”
“How…?”
“How do I shift from one form to another? At will. Quite easily. But it’s a struggle to get around as a human. It took me ages to get up onto this…”
“Bed. This is my bed.” Jeongguk finally released his grip on the covers, and he slowly sat up and propped against the pillows, still in awe. “Y-You asked what I was doing. I was sleeping. Resting.”
“What happens when you sleep?” Jimin inquired.
“That’s… a loaded question,” Jeongguk said with a short laugh. “I’m still trying to figure out how you got from the bathtub to my bed. And how your tail and fin are completely gone. And how you learned how to speak Korean while I slept.”
“I moved from the bathtub to your bed the same way that I made it from the ocean to the beach when I was too injured to swim,” Jimin said evenly. “I used my arms. When I realized I was healed, I shifted to human form in the bathtub and climbed out, and then I made my way to your bed. What you do as a human… you walk. I’m not capable of such a thing yet. My human body isn’t strong enough for that.”
“Oh. Your muscles aren’t developed,” Jeongguk said without thinking, and Jimin glanced down at his knees as if he could magically will muscles to be there. “Sorry. I’ll—never mind. How are your tail and fin gone?”
“I shifted to human form,” Jimin repeated. “You would have to see it happening to understand. My tail and my fin turn in on themselves and morph to human skin. In order to turn back, I simply reverse that process. I can imagine that to the human mind, it must seem impossible.”
“It sounds… fake,” Jeongguk admitted.
“It’s very real. But I have to thank you,” Jimin said, and he reached up and ran his fingers through his blue hair as Jeongguk watched, mesmerized. “I was injured in my true form while in the water. When I realized I was close to the surface, I attempted to shift, but I could only make it to my halfway form. That’s the form you saw. I was trapped in that form and unable to shift with the injury to my tail. But you were able to remove the object and help heal the wound. Because of that, I was able to shift to human form.”
“Oh. R-Really? The wound had to be fixed for you… to… You have three forms?” Jeongguk asked, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. Jimin nodded.
“Yes. I’ll remain in this human form for you so that I don’t frighten you,” Jimin said. “I intend to return to the water as soon as possible. But you also wanted to know how I learned your language.”
“Could you understand me the whole time?” Jeongguk whispered.
“Yes. When you were attempting to help me on the beach, I grabbed your head. Do you remember that?” Jimin asked.
“Hard to forget. I thought you were going to rip my neck out and leave me to die,” Jeongguk admitted, and Jimin hummed.
“I’m sure I considered it,” he said truthfully, and Jeongguk almost laughed. “But I was touching you to gain your language.”
“I’m sorry, what?"
“What do you know about my kind, Jeongguk?” Jimin asked, and Jeongguk froze. Hearing his name in Jimin’s beautiful voice sent shivers down his spine, and not just in a metaphorical sense—Jeongguk had a true bodily reaction to his name being spoken in such an enthralling fashion.
“Your… your kind,” he carefully repeated.
“Merpeople,” Jimin said plainly, and Jeongguk’s heart stuttered. “What do you know about us?”
“I… I don’t…”
“If you have knowledge about merpeople and intend to do harm, I will kill you,” Jimin said simply. “But you’ve helped me a lot, so I’m assuming that perhaps you’re intelligent and have no plans to harm me or my kind.”
“I don’t know much about merpeople,” Jeongguk replied, trying not to think about Jimin killing him. “We… it’s kind of… most humans don’t believe merpeople are real.”
“Interesting. Do you believe we’re real?” Jimin asked.
“I didn’t until I came across you,” Jeongguk admitted. “But I have absolutely no plan to hurt you or your kind. At all. I would never. That’s why I was helping you, didn’t you catch that? Humans don’t believe in merpeople, Jimin. If any other human had found you on the beach, you’d be… I don’t even want to think about it.”
“You said I would be a science experiment,” Jimin said, repeating what he had heard in Jeongguk’s ramblings last night. “Which I don’t quite understand.”
“You’re new. Interesting. Exciting. It’s… merpeople are a myth,” Jeongguk said, feeling like he was having an out-of-body experience trying to explain human life to a living, breathing merman. “To humans, merpeople are just something that we created in our heads for a good story, something to make life exciting. I mean, imagine a whole civilization of highly intelligent life but underwater. Just seems wild to us.”
“You think that your kind dreamt us up?” Jimin asked, brow furrowing. “That’s… odd.”
“So imagine if someone had found you on the beach and brought you somewhere where people would be poking at you and testing you and drawing blood and making you do things you don’t want to do,” Jeongguk explained in simplest terms. “You would never go back to the water, Jimin. You’d… yeah.”
“You brought me somewhere to poke at me and test me,” Jimin pointed out, and Jeongguk rolled his eyes.
“What I did was different,” he argued. “I’m trying to help you. I thought it would take you longer to heal, but here you are. So I guess you can just go back to the water whenever you want.”
Jimin slowly cocked his head to the side, sparkling eyes surveying Jeongguk from head to toe, giving Jeongguk the chance to admire. He was the most stunning living thing Jeongguk had ever seen, his scales glimmering as he breathed, ribs expanding and contracting, his skin so flawless that it didn’t look real. A real merman, sitting on Jeongguk’s bed wearing a pair of black Puma track pants that had been in Jeongguk’s laundry hamper.
“So…” Jeongguk started, but suddenly, Jimin began to move. He used his arms to shift a bit, and then he took his legs out from underneath him and scooted back until he was propped up against the pillows beside Jeongguk, his legs straight out in front of him. He looked over and stared down at Jeongguk’s blanket-covered legs, and then he looked up at Jeongguk expectantly, staring.
He moved just to sit like me. He’s imitating me. Why is he imitating me?
“I’d like to learn more about humans before I go,” Jimin said frankly. “And you seem like the right human to teach me.”
“Learn more…?” Jeongguk raised his eyebrows. “You just admitted that you steal knowledge from humans and that you were happy to kill me until you figured out that I was helping you. And now you want to stay here and ask questions? What…?”
Jeongguk trailed off, because Jimin had been burning a hole into him with his eyes while Jeongguk had been talking, and now he was lifting a hand towards Jeongguk’s face. Paralyzed in a mixture of fear and amazement, Jeongguk stayed still as one of Jimin’s fingers gently pressed to a spot right below Jeongguk’s bottom lip. Instinctively, Jeongguk’s eyes fluttered shut, and when he opened them, Jimin was leaning in a little.
“Is this also a tattoo?” he whispered, sending a chill down Jeongguk’s spine.
“N-No. No, that’s… I was born with that,” Jeongguk replied, speaking with his lips barely moving because Jimin hadn’t moved his finger. “It’s just a mole. I have them all over my body in weird places.”
“I don’t have any of those on my skin,” Jimin said, and then he gently but firmly gripped Jeongguk’s jaw with a few fingers and pushed down on his bottom lip, like he wanted to see Jeongguk’s teeth. Jeongguk opened his mouth and pretended to bite Jimin’s finger, and Jimin flinched, pulling away. Jeongguk snickered as Jimin’s hand fell back into his lap, and Jimin stared, completely unamused.
“I can bite too, you know,” he joked. “But my teeth aren’t as sharp as yours. Why are you inspecting me?”
“Because I’ve never seen a human up close before,” Jimin replied, but then held up one hand, took a breath, and added, “I’ve never seen a human alive up close before. You’re the first.”
“I’m sorry, alive?” Jeongguk repeated. “You—The humans you’ve seen have all been dead?”
“Yes. Well, partially. I’ve killed a few, so I’ve never seen them alive and on land,” Jimin nonchalantly replied, and Jeongguk froze for a moment. “You’re the first human that I’ve spoken to and been close to like this. It’s fascinating.”
“Why… Why,” Jeongguk emphasized, trying to wrap his head around what he was hearing, “are you killing human beings?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Jimin asked, sounding perplexed. “I… What’s the word I need? May I?”
“May you what? Oh. I—Yeah, go ahead,” Jeongguk said, bewildered as Jimin twisted his torso, reached over, and took Jeongguk’s head between his hands, thumbs pressed to Jeongguk’s temples. In an instant, Jeongguk’s vision blurred, and his head began to swim a little, his limbs tingling, his brain on fire. He thought to pull away, but Jimin dropped his hands, and the feeling vanished immediately. Jeongguk exhaled in relief, slumping slightly against his pillows.
“I’m a predator,” Jimin said, finally finding the right vocabulary word for it. “Merpeople are predators. We prey on many other animals in the water, but we also prey on human beings. We always have.”
“How… How do you prey on humans? You don’t come out of the water,” Jeongguk said, confused. Jimin slowly cocked his head and analyzed Jeongguk’s face in silence as Jeongguk waited for an answer.
“...I don’t mean to make you feel sick when I do that,” Jimin said. “When I absorb your knowledge like I do. The feeling will pass.”
“It’s okay,” Jeongguk murmured, swallowing heavily.
“We prey on humans who have come into our waters,” Jimin answered. “Sailors, you call them. Fishermen. Curious humans who wander into our territory with the intent to harm. Sometimes, if we’re feeling generous, we’ll guide the fish or crustaceans to the nets that they cast, or move the water in their favor. But sometimes, humans do strange things to lure us to them. You said that most humans don’t believe merpeople are real. These humans play games to see if we do exist, to get us to come to them.”
“How do they lure you?” Jeongguk whispered.
“If I tell you how to lure a merman or mermaid, you’ll do it,” Jimin snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously. Jeongguk rapidly shook his head and leaned away to protect himself.
“No, no. I—No. I wouldn’t do that. I would never,” Jeongguk swore. “I just want to know what they do that works, because you’re… very intelligent.”
Jimin blinked a few times, and Jeongguk swore yet again that the merman was reading his mind, that he could see an imaginary film reel of Jeongguk’s thoughts scrolling overhead. But then Jimin licked his lips and exhaled.
“They play music and sing,” Jimin responded, and Jeongguk couldn’t say that he was surprised. Music and singing were commonly assumed methods that sailors in real life and in the media used for luring a mermaid to their boat. “And sometimes, the music or the voice draws us in, even though we’re the ones with the power to put humans in a trance.”
“You what? Wait, no. Tell me that later. Tell me about you killing humans first,” Jeongguk demanded. Jimin didn’t even flinch.
“So we go up to their boats to see them, and when we have them in a trance, we take them,” Jimin said point-blank. “We pull them from their boats and into the water, and we take them deep, just like they ask. Human bodies cannot handle the pressure that being deep underwater brings, so that that usually kills them quickly. But it’s easier to kill them before we take them too deep. Humans are cruel creatures, Jeongguk. They lure us to them to take us from our habitat, or to hunt us. I suppose it’s as you said before—we become a science experiment. I don’t trust your kind at all.”
“I understand,” Jeongguk softly said, even though he was trying to process the fact that the supposed mythical creature sitting on his bed was a predator. “Humans aren’t the greatest. I don’t blame you for not trusting us.”
“Merpeople are cruel as well,” Jimin said with no shame. “We are not without fault. But humans are especially cruel because they think themselves the most intelligent of all living things. We prey on their ignorance.”
“Then how… um, how many humans have you killed?” Jeongguk wondered, his heart skipping a beat as he fought the temptation to press his hand to his chest to make sure he was alive and not dreaming.
“I’ve been alive for a very long time, Jeongguk,” Jimin said. “I don’t know the measurement that would make sense to you, but using your knowledge, I can estimate I’ve been alive for about three centuries.”
“Three— what? Three hundred years? Three—no. How is that possible? Are you serious?” Jeongguk asked, flabbergasted. “That’s—Jimin, humans don’t live that long. That’s… That’s amazing. You’ve been alive for that long?”
“Yes.”
“Then how… I mean, can you die?” Jeongguk wondered, and for the first time, he saw Jimin crack a small smile.
“If someone or something kills me, then yes. I can die. Otherwise, it takes a very long time for merpeople to die naturally,” Jimin replied. “Many centuries, in fact, if I use human measurement for passage of time. The mermaid who birthed me has been alive for... seven centuries. I’m only estimating, of course.”
“God, that’s… So if you’ve been alive for that long, then you… must have killed a lot of humans,” Jeongguk reasoned, but Jimin shook his head.
“Not many. I don’t find killing humans to be very exciting. They’re… messy,” Jimin said, searching for the right word. “Others take great joy in killing any human who comes into our territory. There are many who don’t mind, and I’m one of them. I won’t attack unless I feel threatened. So I believe that I’ve killed... nine humans.”
“Nine,” Jeongguk whispered. “That’s… did you know that humans can’t kill other humans?”
“Impossible. I’ve seen it happen. Humans are very violent with each other,” Jimin argued.
“No, I mean—sorry. I’m not making sense. What I mean is, there’s a punishment. If you kill another human and you get caught, then you’re punished,” Jeongguk explained quickly. “But underwater, I can’t really imagine that there are punishments like that.”
“No. That seems silly. We all have instincts,” Jimin said. “How long have you been alive?”
“Twenty-seven years.”
“Oh. So you’re very new to being a human,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk finally laughed, a peculiar warmth spreading through his chest.
“To you, maybe,” he said, and then he yawned and rubbed his face with his hands rapidly. “Look, I—I need to get out of bed. Today is my day off work, so I can help you get back to the water, maybe check your tail one more time to make sure you’re okay.”
“Oh. What do you do at work?” Jimin asked.
“I work with marine mammals who are injured,” Jeongguk said, throwing back the covers and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I rehabilitate them and send them back to the water, to their natural habitat. So that’s why I helped you.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Jimin watching his every move with curiosity.
“I noticed that you have a fair bit of knowledge about marine life,” Jimin replied. “Is work where you earn money? I’ve heard humans in the past talk about money. That concept is lost on me.”
“Yes. That’s where I earn money to live in this house and buy what I want, like food and a bed and everything,” Jeongguk explained, rising to his feet and stretching. “Will you be okay here? Do you need anything? Sorry, I…” He paused and scratched underneath his chin, eyeing Jimin. “I don’t really know how to take care of a merman. This is very new to me. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and realize this was all a dream.”
“A dream? What are dreams like?” Jimin asked, and Jeongguk blew out a breath, trying not to laugh.
“You ask questions that require very philosophical answers,” Jeongguk said, taking a few steps towards the bathroom.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to brush my teeth and wash up,” Jeongguk explained, gripping the bathroom door frame and turning to look at Jimin. Jimin just blinked at him without responding, leaving a heavy silence between the two of them. Then, without a word, he scooted away from the pillows, reached underneath himself to grab the other side of the blankets, and folded them back just like Jeongguk had done, even though it was redundant. Amused, Jeongguk watched as Jimin also swung his legs over the side of the bed, but then he hesitated and looked over at Jeongguk.
“Do you want to come with me?” Jeongguk tentatively asked.
“Yes,” Jimin firmly replied. “But I can’t stand like you did.”
“I can carry you,” Jeongguk offered, his heart skipping. Carry him, you’re an idiot. Don’t be stupid. He’s a fucking predator, he won’t want—
“Okay. I want to see what you’re doing,” Jimin said without hesitating. Surprised, Jeongguk walked over to Jimin’s side of the bed, and then he turned his body and scooped Jimin up into his arms bridal style. In human form, Jimin was light as a feather compared to when Jeongguk had carried him in his halfway form. His initial suspicion that Jimin’s tail held a lot of his weight had been correct.
Jeongguk carried Jimin into the bathroom, contemplated what to do, and then settled for the countertop, where there was a small space for him to sit. Jeongguk set him down, and then he rolled his shoulder back and reached for his toothbrush and the toothpaste. As he brushed his teeth, Jimin shamelessly watched, tilting his head and leaning in with interest, watching Jeongguk’s every move. Jeongguk was the one who felt like a science experiment, especially when Jimin stuck his hand underneath the stream of water coming from the faucet while Jeongguk washed his face, splashing water everywhere.
“Jimin, don’t,” Jeongguk scolded, laughing as he reached for his towel. “You’re making a mess.”
“How is it coming out of there?” Jimin asked, bending at the waist and tilting his head like he could look up into the faucet. “The bathtub does the same thing. Where does the water come from?”
“It’s a long story. I actually need you to get into the bathtub,” Jeongguk said, patting his face dry. “I need you to get into the tub and change forms or whatever you do so I can see your tail and check if it’s healed properly.”
“Oh. I’ll need water,” Jimin said. Jeongguk walked over and turned on the bathtub, plugging the drain, and then he picked Jimin up and carried him over to the bathtub. He didn’t even bother to worry about the track pants, opting to set Jimin right into the tub with the pants on. The moment he stepped back, his heart began to pound.
“C-Can I…?” He swallowed heavily. “Can I… see what happens? When you…?”
“Why are you asking permission?” Jimin wondered, and then he reached down and began to struggle with the track pants to take them off. Jeongguk stepped back far enough to give him a little bit of privacy, his hands feeling clammy, and he clenched his jaw when Jimin carelessly tossed the soaking wet track pants over the edge of the tub and onto the floor. There was a moment of silence, and then Jimin glanced over. “I thought you wanted to see.”
mood: “words of amber” by ólafur arnalds
“Oh.” Jeongguk stumbled forward, and then he dropped to his knees and stared in awe, jaw dropping. The process had already started. The scales that were on Jimin’s obliques and hips were multiplying rapidly, covering down to mid-thigh already, consuming his human legs and drawing them together near the knees. Jeongguk watched as the shape of Jimin’s legs slowly began to disappear, smoothing out as scales rippled along his human skin like dominos falling.
“It looks different every time,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk whipped his head to stare. “My tail. I’ve acquired your vocabulary, so I’ll try to explain it in a way you will understand.” Jimin paused, the scales quickly covering his shins in splendid, shimmering shades of dark and light blue and emerald green. “My tail regenerates every time that I change to my halfway or true form, and then it sheds and disintegrates every time that I turn to human form. So I’m almost certain that it will be healed, because it’s brand new.”
“It’s…” Jeongguk could hardly find the words. He had never once in his life seen anything quite like it. He could only imagine what scientists would do if they got their hands on Jimin. A tail that regenerates rapidly? Shedding and disintegration of a tail he didn’t need? The ability to absorb knowledge from the human brain through touch? A lifespan of several centuries? They would deconstruct Jimin until there was nothing left to him and hunt his kind mercilessly. Jeongguk shuddered at the thought, already feeling fiercely protective of a predatory creature he had willingly brought into his home.
“It’s healed,” Jimin said as, with a flourishing ripple, the fin of his tail appeared, flopping over the edge of the tub. Jeongguk turned off the water, and Jimin immediately sank down underneath the water, exhaling deeply, the scales rippling onto the rest of his body and up his neck like Jeongguk had seen last night.
He was beautiful. He was the most magnificent creature Jeongguk had ever seen in his life, so much so that it took Jeongguk’s breath away. How was it possible that Jeongguk had lived twenty-seven years without ever knowing, without ever believing that someone as extraordinary as Jimin existed below the surface of the water he watched almost every day? How could he have missed someone so stunning? And how could he learn more in the short amount of time that he had?
Jeongguk looked down into the water at Jimin, watching as he blinked and breathed under the water, perfectly content. Heart racing, Jeongguk slowly reached his right hand down into the water, and Jimin watched carefully. With a gentle touch, Jeongguk placed his hand on Jimin’s tail and ran his fingers along it, amazed that he could feel the difference between every scale, marveling at how solidly it had regenerated. He moved his hand up slowly towards where the scales faded at Jimin’s waist, and Jimin only blinked. Jeongguk’s hand was visibly trembling, but he was utterly fascinated.
“Oh,” Jeongguk whispered quietly when Jimin took his hand, and then he watched as Jimin set his hand palm-up on top of his own tail, Jeongguk’s hand palm-down on top. He was comparing their hands again, but this time, he wasn’t testing for pain. He was just observing, gauging Jeongguk’s reaction. Gently, Jeongguk grazed his fingers between Jimin’s, tracing the insides of his fingers down to the silky webbing. He let his fingers flit over Jimin’s smooth palm, and then he retracted his hand, feeling like he needed to gasp for air, his heart ready to give out on him. He abruptly rose to his feet, and Jimin rose from the water.
“I suppose it’s time to go back to the water,” Jimin figured, his fin flicking on its own accord. “You said it would be dangerous for me to leave your home. Is that still true?”
“In this form, yeah. You need to change back to human form, or I can’t let you leave until nighttime when no one can see you,” Jeongguk reasoned. Jimin contemplated, and then he nodded.
“Okay. I’ll change back to human form so that you can bring me to the water.”
Jeongguk pulled the plug to let the water drain, and then he stood over the tub and watched as Jimin’s fin began to shrivel up and curl in on itself. It then disappeared entirely, disintegrating just as Jimin had said until two human feet appeared. Jeongguk felt tempted to pinch himself to make sure that he wasn’t hallucinating, because everything in his narrow human mind was screaming at him to not believe a thing he was seeing. Overwhelmed by the amount of complicated information he had to process, Jeongguk turned his back and reached for his hamper, grabbing a second pair of loose gym shorts that he had worn the other night after returning from work. Once he saw that Jimin was seated in the empty bathtub without his tail or fin, Jeongguk handed over the shorts, and Jimin slowly struggled to put them on. Once he was dressed, Jeongguk bent and scooped him up out of the tub, cradling his wet form carefully.
“Do you want to leave?” Jeongguk asked.
“Yes,” Jimin replied without hesitation, and Jeongguk had to forcibly swallow an argument that had come up alarmingly fast. He squared his shoulders with a nod, and then he carried Jimin out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and into the living room. “Wait.”
“What is it?” Jeongguk stopped.
“What is this place? Are we still in your home? It looks different,” Jimin said, squinting slightly from the sunlight that was streaming through the window, his brilliant eyes adjusting.
“Yes. This is my living room, and that’s my kitchen,” Jeongguk replied. Still staring at the kitchen in confusion, Jimin reached up one hand and set it on the side of Jeongguk’s head, thumb pressed to his temple. Jeongguk almost lost his footing, the world tilting on an axis for a moment, but then Jimin removed his hand.
“A kitchen. That’s where you cook food and eat it,” Jimin said.
“Don’t do that,” Jeongguk scolded tiredly. “Don’t—Don’t just go into my brain without warning me first. It makes me dizzy.”
“I’ll warn you next time,” Jimin said, turning back to look at Jeongguk. “There are many things in your home that I don’t understand. Will you let me see all of them?”
“That might… okay. Sure,” Jeongguk agreed, because why argue? Jimin weighed next to nothing in his human form, so Jeongguk carried him into the kitchen and sat him on the countertop. There, he explained the basics, such as the refrigerator, the microwave, the cooktop, and the rice cooker. He even turned on a burner and let Jimin hold his hand overtop to feel it heat up. He didn’t even bother to explain human food, citing that it would take too long. Jimin accepted without argument, and then he let Jeongguk carry him into the living room. Jeongguk set Jimin down onto the couch, which surprised him. He ran his hands all along the fabric curiously, and then he pointed and asked what was against the opposite wall.
“That’s my television. Look.” Jeongguk grabbed the remote, and then he flicked on the TV. The moment the morning news appeared, Jimin flinched in sheer shock, eyes widening. Jeongguk almost let out a yelp, but he held himself back when Jimin rolled right off the couch and onto the floor, crawling while using mostly his arms until he was right in front of the television. He knelt, and then he reached up a hand and touched the screen.
“He’s not real,” Jimin said, referring to the news anchor. “He’s not—oh, there’s another human. How many are in this thing? How did they get in here? Jeongguk? Jeongguk, what—why are you laughing? What’s funny?”
“They’re not inside the television,” Jeongguk said, still laughing. “It’s just technology. They’re somewhere else, but I can turn on my television and watch what they’re doing. They’re telling us the news. What’s going on in South Korea and the world.”
“So he’s… he’s not inside your home,” Jimin reasoned slowly, and Jeongguk nodded.
“Right. I can make them disappear whenever I want. Look.” Jeongguk turned the television off, and Jimin immediately patted the screen with his palm a few times, bewildered.
“What do you use this for?” Jimin asked, eyebrows knitting together when he turned to look at Jeongguk. Jeongguk plopped down on the edge of the couch, setting the remote onto his coffee table.
“To entertain myself,” he said simply. “It’s hard to explain. If I had more time with you, I’d explain how all of this stuff works.” I’ll have to take a video of him if he ever comes back, Jeongguk thought forlornly. So he can see himself and understand how it all works. He’d be so fascinated by it.
“Humans are so odd,” Jimin said simply. “The strangest creatures I’ve ever known.”
“I might agree with you,” Jeongguk said with a grin.
“Then I guess I’ve seen enough,” Jimin decided. “I would like to go to the water now.”
“Okay. Sure.” Jeongguk walked over and picked Jimin up, and then he walked towards his backdoor and used a careful hand, with effort, to open the door. The sky was slightly overcast, which didn’t help with the brightness, but Jimin didn’t seem to mind the natural sunlight as much as he had minded man-made lights. “This is my dock. It’s attached to my home. So you can swim from here. Is that okay?”
“Yes, this will work,” Jimin said as Jeongguk slowly walked down to the end of the long wooden dock, listening to the water gently slosh against the pillars and against the murky shore. He stopped short of the edge, and then he hesitated.
“I’m happy that I could help you heal,” he quietly said, and Jimin met his gaze.
“I appreciate your help,” he replied. “You showed me kindness.”
“You were injured,” Jeongguk replied. “And you seemed scared.”
“I was. I was very scared,” Jimin said. “When you brought me to your home, I thought you were going to kill me, and that I would be defenseless. I thought I would never be healed or see my pod again.”
He has a pod. Like dolphins do. Like marine mammals do, Jeongguk thought, bursting at the seams with excitement at the familiar language.
“But you kept me safe and helped me to recover. For that, I’m very grateful,” Jimin said, and he took his right hand across his body and pressed it to Jeongguk’s chest, right over his heart. Jeongguk’s breath hitched as he stared into Jimin’s sapphire eyes, drowning.
“There’s so much more I want to learn about you,” he admitted in nothing more than a whisper, his heart aching. “I have so many more questions, and now you’re just leaving. I’ll never get a chance like this again. I have so many regrets.”
“I understand. I’ve spent my life mistrusting human beings and treating you as prey. Truthfully, if I were to encounter another human tomorrow in a boat on the water, I would probably kill it. It wouldn’t have your intelligence. You’re the first human who taught me something without the intent of capturing me for personal gain,” Jimin said, his voice alone leaving Jeongguk mesmerized, his compliment wiggling its way right into Jeongguk’s heart. “I have many more questions for you, too. I’ve learned more of this human language from your mind alone than I have from centuries of human interaction, so I have much to think about. I’m very curious about human life for the first time.”
“You—” Jeongguk paused and shifted Jimin in his arms, Jimin removing his hand from Jeongguk’s chest. “You can always come back. If you remember how to get to my house, to my dock, you can come back.”
“We cannot possibly determine a time to meet one another again,” Jimin said. “I measure time by the sun, moon, and stars, and I use the same to navigate my world. You use numbers. It’s very different.”
“Do you understand sunset?” Jeongguk wondered.
“Yes.”
“If you ever want to return, come to the dock at sunset,” Jeongguk replied, thinking quickly off the top of his head. “When the sun disappears on the horizon, come to my dock. I’ll be here to carry you.”
“You can’t wait for me every sunset,” Jimin whispered.
“If I want to see you again, I will,” Jeongguk firmly replied. “If you come back, I can teach you how to walk, and show you more things in my home. You can learn more language from my mind if you want. I can teach you what you want to know about human life. And maybe you can show me more about what your life is like. You know so much about humans already, but I know nothing about merpeople. I want to learn. I’m just slow at it because I can’t absorb it from your mind. But I want to learn, Jimin.”
“My pod would be very disappointed if they learned that I had the opportunity to kill you and didn’t,” Jimin said, sounding conflicted with himself. “Human knowledge of merpeople is dangerous, Jeongguk. We kill the humans who have interacted with us. We don’t make exceptions.”
“Then don’t tell your pod about me,” Jeongguk whispered. “Otherwise, you’ll have to kill me.”
“I would regret killing someone who helped me,” Jimin said matter-of-factly. “Surely my pod would understand that. We flourish when we help one another, but help from a human might be difficult to explain. But once I’m in the water, I’ll understand where your home is in relation to where my pod is. Maybe one day I’ll come back to learn more.”
“Okay,” Jeongguk whispered, already feeling like he had lost. “Please be safe. If you get injured again, come right to me. I’ll help you.”
“I know you will. I’m grateful for that. Thank you for teaching me more about humans. I don’t feel as scared now,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk’s heart soared with pride. “You can drop me into the water now. I’ll take my true form once I’m submerged.”
“Okay,” Jeongguk reluctantly agreed, stepping to the edge of the dock and clinging tightly to Jimin. He glanced down at the magnificently beautiful man in his arms, wondering if he could even consider Jimin a man. To his amazement, the corners of Jimin’s lips turned up into a smile, and then he lifted his pointer finger and pressed it to the mole underneath Jeongguk’s bottom lip briefly.
“Goodbye, Jeongguk.”
“Goodbye, Jimin.” Jeongguk took a deep breath, his chest tightening with a sudden and violent onset of unexpected emotion, and then he let Jimin slip from his arms straight down into the water, gym shorts and all. The water was at least six feet at the end of the dock, so Jimin sank and disappeared. Moments later, the gym shorts floated to the surface, and Jeongguk cracked a small smile. Then, even in the murky water, he saw a glint of dark blue and emerald green against the hazy sunlight that was trying to break through the clouds. With a subtle flick of his fin underneath the water, Jimin swam off in a stream of water at a speed Jeongguk could hardly comprehend. The ripples in the water slowly faded, and then it was quiet. Jeongguk stood rooted to the spot for a moment, staring at the water in a daze. He wasn’t sure how long he remained there. It wasn’t until his eyes began to burn that he cleared his throat and took a step backwards, but not before speaking out loud one more time.
“Goodbye, Jimin.”