Chapter Text
Two Months Later…
“Your coffee, sir.”
The man sighs but flashes the waitress a weary smile from behind his mask. “Thanks.”
He turns back to his phone. The café was busy today, the waiters bustling around and baristas producing drinks faster than they can be delivered. It was a bad day to be in here, even if he was wearing his mask and facing away from the windows and front door at an empty booth. He had gone on break right before the lunch rush, snagging a seat before the crowds of people came in. Now, he wishes he stayed in the studio: he doesn’t even like coffee all that much.
Really, it was Changbin’s idea to get out for some much needed caffeine; supposedly he wasn’t being much help just staring at an empty track at work and an empty notebook at home. He has been in an uninspired slump for quite some time and while his friends had a good idea of why, Chan would reply with nothing more than “I’m tired” when questioned. And after a while, they stopped asking. But now deadlines existed and time was being wasted so, as Jisung so politely put it, he must “get up and do something or else the only song that’s going to be playing on YouTube by 3racha is a remix of ‘Into the Unknown’”. And then the shorter grumbled to go get coffee if he is so tired because he looks like he “got hit by a truck and then didn’t sleep for a month” .
So, here he is.
He was honestly getting better; he swears he hasn’t been moping since he got back. The first two weeks were rough but on the third week, he started going out with friends again and provided some feedback on songs his friends had composed. The fourth week he found himself at Minho and Hyunjin’s dance recital and the fifth week he picked Jeongin up from school and helped Seungmin study for his English final. He was doing good: becoming his old self and getting back to the swing of things. But then on the sixth week, the boys got together for movie night at his apartment and all the progress he was making came to a standstill.
It was supposed to be a harmless evening: they were all sitting in the living room, Minho flipping through Netflix, Jisung and Hyunjin fighting over the bowl of popcorn, Seungmin scrolling through social media while Chan and Changbin discussed possible concepts for their next album. The three oldest sat on the floor while the rest squeezed together on the sofa. Innie had asked for Chan’s camera, claiming to have never gotten the chance to look through his vacation photos (even though the eldest could have sworn that he sent all the fish ones to his maknae). But, not thinking much of it, Chan handed the device over anyways and everything picked up where it left off as Jeongin went through the gallery. But then the youngest had scowled at a particular picture and inquired, “Hey Hyung?” The group looked over curiously at the puzzled look on Jeongin’s face.
“Yeah?” Chan had replied, completely unaware of why Jisung was now leaning into the younger’s side to stare at the screen with wide eyes.
“Who’s this guy?”
Chan just looked at them blankly. “If you’re asking about some random guy at the market, I don’t know-”
“No, no, no, Mr. Christopher Bang,” Jisung had said in English with a shit-eating look on his face, “The blonde hottie you’re with.”
Immediately, everyone had gone diving over each other to get a glimpse of the stranger while Chan had just sat there on the floor, dumbfounded. Hottie? What hot- Oh… Felix...
Minho had whistled appreciatively, cooing, “Wow; nice catch, Hyung. He is pretty.”
“Aw, look how whipped Chan-Hyung’s face is,” Minnie had snickered while Jinnie just gawked dramatically like his eyes were deceiving him.
“Is that… the friend you made?” Binnie had asked softly, noticing that the eldest’s mood had instantly plummeted.
Instead of answering, Chan had just snatched the camera back, clenching his jaw to keep himself from tearing up. After looking at the mer’s cute, cat-like smile and his own flustered face for a few moments, he deleted the picture and tossed the device back onto the couch. “Doesn’t matter,” he had mumbled, “It was just a dumb dream.”
Nobody brought up the picture again, even if they scrolled further and saw the other one that he had forgotten about. It showcased their friend’s dimpled smile and a scrunched up freckled face next to him; they all couldn’t help but wonder what had gone wrong when the two of them looked so comfortable and happy…
The last two weeks have left his enthusiasm dampened: partly because of regret for deleting such a priceless and irreplaceable photo on whim, partly because he missed them and knew that the only way to get over them was to forget about them and the only way to do that completely would be deleting the rest of the photos. See the dilemma?
His friends are getting worried again (he can tell), but he just needs some time to drain his mind of all the mushy and wistful feelings in regards to Felix again.
And he has found that the best way to lose his mind is to go on social media until his own perception of reality is so darn altered that he doesn’t know the difference between his own life and someone else’s.
That is, until it’s interrupted by a phone call.
“What is it, Sungie?” He questions exasperatedly, finally pulling his mask down to sip his, now, lukewarm coffee.
“Sorry Hyung, I know you’re on break but there is some dude here asking for you.”
Chan’s brow furrows. “Some dude? Help me out here: who are they?”
“I don’t know, he won’t say his name and his Korean is pretty horrible. He has a thick accent too so it’s kind of hard to understand. I tried speaking in English with him but he doesn't really seem like he wants to talk to me. He just keeps asking to see you; what do I tell him?”
He sighs, again; probably a reporter or paparazzi, right? Maybe some small artist looking for a collab? Either way, he’s on break so screw them (at the moment; he can regret that thought later). “Tell him to either wait until my break is over or come back later.”
“He is insisting. He says it’s important.”
“Well my mental state is important,” Chan grumbles, taking another sip of coffee, “He can wait.”
“Hyung, he’s asking to talk to you…”
“Jisung-ah, I swear, don’t you dare give him your cellpho-”
A muffled, “I speak in here and he can hear me?” is heard through the phone, followed by a,
“Yeah… That’s typically how a phone call works, bro” from Jisung.
He groans in irritation; he doesn’t have the patience to deal with this right now.
“Listen man, I get one break every seven hours: either wait twenty minutes or come back some other time,” he tries his best not to hiss out the words in case it is someone important that Sungie is just too slow to recognize. A small bell chimes in the background as somebody enters the café. The line is silent.
“Hello?”
“Jisung?”
“Yeah, he just handed the phone back and left. What’d you say to him, Hyung? He was so adamant to talk to you but now…”
“I just told him the same thing you told him; probably a journalist or something. Anyways, I’m going to get back to my coffee-”
“I don’t think he was, Hyung.”
Chan falters for a moment, not liking the wary tone Jisung was using; did he just mess up really bad? “W-What do you mean?”
“I don’t know just… something was off about him, you know? Like when Hyunjin-hyung is acting all seductive on stage and the people just can’t look away because of how powerful his presence is? That’s how I felt with this guy. He had sunglasses on but I could feel his stare piercing me, bro. And- and his voice was pretty hot, not gonna lie; even with his mask on, he sounded amazing. Do you think he is an idol or something? Don’t tell Minho-Hyung but I would give up all my life savings to hear this guy rap with us; do you think he has a six pack too?”
He rolls his eyes, “Geez, Sung; for a minute there, I thought you were being serious…”
“I was! I just… I feel like he was an important person! This could have been very good for us but I think you chased him away, Hyung.” He could hear his friend’s frown through the phone and gulped apprehensively.
“...You really think so? Did I just blow some grand deal or something?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t ask for 3racha or me and Changbin-hyung though so I have a feeling it wasn’t for all of us. He just asked for you and he… he called you Christopher, Hyung. Now that I think about it, his accent kind of sounded like you too…”
“Hm,” Chan tries to consider any artists that were male and of Asian/Australian descent but he came up empty. Perhaps Jisung was just mistaken? The younger man hasn't been around any Aussies other than him so it was reasonable to conclude that he would just assume any English accent sounded like Chan’s. “I- I wouldn’t worry about it too much; I’m sure they’ll come back later. It will be fine.”
“Are you telling me that or yourself?”
Chan huffs before replying a little quieter, “Both…”
“Okay,” his friend chuckles but he sounds kind of nervous, “Well in your case, I hope they come back! You’ll agree with me Hyung: they sound like they are straight out of a wet drea-”
“And that’s enough from you! Goodbye Jisung-ah! I’ll be back soon!” And with that, he quickly hangs up and shakes his head in exhaustion. This kid is too much sometimes.
He takes another couple of sips of his coffee before he feels an entire shift in atmosphere within the café. Chan looks up, feeling kind of antsy as all conversations faded into hushed gossiping whispers. For a second, he thought that perhaps he was the center of attention (his group may be small and relatively new, but he was still an idol and he was still in a public place), but when he took a subtle glance around, all eyes were glued to the window.
Chan straightens in his seat, trying to see over his booth but at the glimpse of a person walking by, he shrugged and went back to his coffee (maybe it was an actor or something. He can see famous people every award show; why bother them during their day out?).
The bell on the door chimes. Everybody goes quiet; Chan sees varying faces of awe and curiosity and… jealousy? He shakes it off; coffee, he must finish his coffee. Conversations pick up again but he can still sense the tension in the air, especially when footsteps round the corner of the isle and approach his booth. Are they wanting my seat? Are they going to the people next to me? Do they think I’m someone else?
The person halts. Chan sees some skinny-jeaned legs (and a tucked-in woman’s blouse?) out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t look up despite the little voice in the back of his head urging him to; if he doesn’t give the person any reaction, maybe they’ll take the hint that he wants to be left alone. He squirms as the many sets of eyes turn their focus to him as well.
Can’t he just enjoy his break in peace?
He is about to snap at them for hovering, waiting for some sign of acknowledgement when he clearly didn’t want to give it, but then a deep voice says, “Good morning.”
Chan scowls, replying out of habit, “It’s afternoon-” But then he stops.
No way; there’s no way they could have found him. This isn’t real; it’s merely a coincidence, right? A lot of people say that greeting; a lot of people mistake the time of day; a lot of people speak English in Korea; a lot of people have a deep voice and an Australian accent and-
The sound of them sliding into the seat across from him makes that little voice start screaming. He fears to look up. He fears to see a familiar face; he fears to be disappointed when it isn’t.
“Good afternoon time, then. Although, I still do not see what is good about it…”
Chan swallows roughly, still refusing to look up and see those lovely blue eyes.
“A-And why is that?” he mumbles.
He can feel the smile directed to him from behind that masked face he has yet to confirm, can envision those pearly shark teeth and pink lips made for kissing. “Because, if anything, it should be a great afternoon now that I get to see you.”
And that does it for him. Chan looks up to see the radiant face: freckled cheeks and all. They look good, they always do, but he notes that their hair has taken on a yellowish hue and has grown a bit, not quite hanging into their line of sight yet but farther down their neck. The glasses look expensive, as do the clothes, but the mask is cheap and disposable. How they are here and where they have been is an absolute mystery to him but he would be lying if he said that his eyes didn’t water in relief and happiness.
They pull the mask down to expose their blinding grin, “Miss me, Channie?”
He wants to cry and smile and hug them and kiss them and just go leaping over the table to feel their skin beneath his in general but he refrains, a hint of bitterness wrapping its way around his heart and squeezing as a reminder of how much he has hurt these last couple of weeks. If the mer thinks that they can just pop in and out of his life whenever they feel like, they’re wrong.
Chan’s not typically one to hold grudges but this time he can make an exception.
“Why- Why are you here, Felix?”
The playful look on Felix's face morphs to a serious expression in an instant. "I have... spent my entire life being able to know what people are thinking and feeling just by a single look, you know," They begin examining their fingers, fiddling with the loose skin around their thumb nail (Chan tries not to wince as they anxiously snag and peel),"It makes things very… convenient for me but, sometimes, I forget that others cannot do the same.”
He shifts in his seat, watching as all of Felix’s cocky demeanor before faded from existence. The mer appeared more nervous and shy than he had ever seen them.
Noticing, though, that they had Chan’s undivided attention, they met his gaze for a moment before continuing, “I-If you could have seen every little emotion that passed through my eyes whenever I thought of you, there would have been no question to why I am here.”
He inhales sharply, anticipation bubbling within his stomach and clogging his throat. What is this? A confession? A rejection? Or do they just simply want something from him?
The mer chomps down on their bottom lip before sighing heavily, hands now flat against the table and stare practically burning through the sunglasses as it meets his again. “So let me make it very clear for you: there is no other place on this entire planet that I’d rather be than by your side. You are so- so precious to me, Chan; forever and always. I would be willing to give up everything for you. The ocean, Australia, Korea: they aren’t my home, you are.” They pause, their nose sniffing and Chan could feel a worried pull on his heartstrings at their choked up sounding voice like they were trying their hardest to stay composed; he can’t help but look away. “I thought that I could forget about you, move on with my life; but, every boat I saw, every food I smelled, every person I heard, every emotion I felt… reminded me of you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much I- I missed being around you.”
Chan doesn’t want to give in just yet (he can’t be so easily won over; he isn’t easy, he doesn’t play games. His soft heart is crying out for Felix but he must remain strong, must maintain some sense of aloofness! They left him; in the end, they still left him).
“I don’t know, Felix… Two months is a long time. What makes you think I still feel the same?”
Wrong word choice for a desperate mer: their brow furrows and a low growl emanates from their throat. Chan feels some guilt and fear creep into his resolve, cracking his cold exterior.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t want me anymore.”
He stiffens, gaze whipping up to meet theirs at the raw hurt and anger suddenly painting their tone. “What?”
“Look me in the eyes,” they lean forward a bit, fingers curling into the table top, as they whisper harshly, “And tell me you don’t w-want me. If I was wrong and everything I felt was fake, then I’ll leave and never bother you again but… If I’m right- I need to know.”
There’s that word again: need . It’s funny how when the mer finally realizes what they lost, they accept that belonging and affection is a need too. They swore up and down that they didn’t want him, that they didn’t need anyone, that survival was the most important part of their existence. Yet, here they are.
He can’t assure that his voice will remain steady as he replies; he doesn’t know if he would even be able to make Felix plead for him any longer. He just nibbles his inner cheek and stares in confliction.
"Are you… really not going to answer?" They finally ask.
Chan feels bad; his chest twists. "W-What do you want me to say?"
They deadpan. “I did not just spend fifty moons trying to find you just for you to ask me what you should say, Chris. I have crossed a sea, wandered a few cities, and kissed four different people (three women, one man); if t-that doesn’t prove how much I- I want you, I don’t know what will.”
("I want you" they said it, they finally said it… They want me; can I really say I don't want them now?)
"Um- You- I- We-" he stammers uncontrollably, unable to string together something as profound as their statement; his ears flush red, his mouth feels dry, tears may have welled in his eyes with the sudden happiness consuming his already jumbled mind. Felix's face grows impossibly softer, a ghost of a smile on their lips despite the vulnerability shining through their shaky hands.
"Fine, that's fine," the blonde mumbles, placing their warm hand in the middle of the table (a way out, an offering; Chan wants to take it so bad). "You don't have to say anything. How about… if you give me two blinks," their smile widens, "I’ll stay here, on land, for as long as you’ll have me. If you give me one blink," the look falters into something a little more apprehensive, "I'll… finally say goodbye like you did all those days ago. You know that was why I didn’t say it, right? Because I- I wasn’t ready to let you go? I have no idea how this is going to work but I’m willing to try."
Time seems to stand still. Chan feels like he is in a dream but, this time, he doesn’t have the desire to try and wake himself up.
He blinks once, Felix’s entire face falls; reaching across the table, Chan places his hand on top of theirs and gives a gentle squeeze to make them look back up at him. And then, very dramatically he might add, he blinks again, and again, and again, and again until there’s a joyous unbridled grin stretching across his features and the mer’s eyes are blown wide as saucers as they question excitedly, “Really?!”
And he can only nod rapidly, ecstatically, before the two of them jump up from their seats and embrace tightly.
The mer tries to wiggle out of his hold after a few moments, Chan only tightening his grip when they whine quietly into his ear, “Channie, everyone is staring.”
He pulls back for a second to adjust both of their masks back over their mouths and then grumbles back, “Let them. I’m not going to let anything get between us now.”
“That sounds almost possessive,” Felix giggles as the man snatches his coffee and begins leading the way to the exit with a gentle nudge to the shoulder.
The door opens to the bustling streets, Chan taking the opportunity to lean in and reply, “At least I love you for more than your voice.”
“My voice?” the mer tilts their head in confusion, “How can anyone fall in love over just a voice?”
“I don’t know, ask Prince Eric and Ariel,” the brunette snickers to himself but when he is met with further confusion, he adds with a sigh, “When we get home, we’re watching movies; a lot of them.”
“Home?”
Chan smiles warmly, tugging them along with a look of pure adoration of his face, “I’ll let Jisung know something came up and I had to go back to my apartment,” he pauses, takes a quick look around, and then nuzzles his nose into Felix’s in an eskimo kiss, “I think living arrangements is a better word; after all, now it can really be a home.”
A light blush dusts his favorite freckled cheeks, eyes shining a beautiful indigo from behind the glasses and Chan thinks that, yeah , his home is right here.
Every person on Earth must blink eventually; it is by choice to do it two times in a row. A single time is a coincidence, double is a conscious decision, and after the consecutive third, fourth, and fifth, you realize that if it truly were a dream, your eyes would have started out closed rather than open.
An interesting pair lay together on a sofa, the smaller blonde upon the bigger brunette’s chest, kissing lazily under the basking glow of a television screen and, for the first time, there is no rhymer reason other than the fact that they wanted to.
“So, are we going to talk about how exactly you found me?”
“Well… it all started with me seducing a swimming woman into thinking I was her husband- ”
“What-”
“Breaking into your beach house through the slider door-”
“Lix, grant it it was unlocked but the porch literally hangs over a cliff-”
“Having some 3racha fan ask to sleep with me after she saw me wearing one of the shirts you left-”
“Ah man, I left my merch- WAIT WHAT-”
“Finding out that ‘sleeping with’ is a very strange human expression but I got all the information that I needed so I pretended to actually fall asleep on her couch-”
“Information? On-”
“Seducing a sailor into thinking I was his wife -”
“Why-”
“Sailing to Korea-”
“You’re purposefully ignoring me now-”
“Kissing a blind old lady after borrowing her pool-”
“ Felix -”
“Learning some Korean by following people on the streets-”
“That’s literally stalking-”
“Finding the JYP building-”
“Were you the one on the phone-”
“Asking for you, getting dismissed by you, and then following the sound of the bell on the front door to the café you were in.”
“And how do you know that I was definitely still in there or not just in another café with a similar bell?”
They stare at him blankly. “I just clicked my tongue: echolocation.”
“I-” he stares back, completely gobsmacked by the new information; finally, he settles on, “So, so much cooler than Ariel…”
~Fin~
Link to the wattpad version, if you're interested