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“Most people pick up trash.”
Namjoon looked up, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. He saw two long, tanned legs. Shorts. A smile. “What?” he asked. He was in enough of a predicament here, he wasn’t in the mood to make small talk.
Shorts and a Smile repeated, “Most people pick up trash, not seaweed.” He pointed to the sample bags Namjoon was clutching to his chest. “Also you seem to be kind of stuck.”
“Most people aren’t marine biologists,” Namjoon replied. He looked down to where the water had started to lap against his ankles. The water shoes he’d spent way too much money on last year, the ones with the little grips on the bottom, were probably the only things saving him from falling ass over teakettle into the ocean. “And yeah, I’m kind of stuck.”
Getting into the little crevice -- it was hardly a cave -- hadn’t been an issue when the tide was low. Getting in was easy. Getting out became less easy when someone, theoretically, spent too much time collecting specimens and then maybe getting distracted about how he’d make it work in his thesis if the data turned out differently, and then maybe leaving the pack he used to carry his specimens up in his car...yeah, this could have gone better. Namjoon was currently balancing on a crag of rock, surrounded by the slowly rising ocean churning around his feet, unwilling to drop his armful of sample bags to climb up the rocks to get back to shore.
Shorts and a Smile was currently crouched on the top of one of the rocks, looking down at Namjoon. He was handsome; Namjoon hadn’t noticed that at first, but he was, all sharp angles and golden skin. Great. Now he looked like an idiot in front of a cute boy. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. “Am I interrupting, or do you have a plan here?” The guy was laughing, but not in an unfriendly way, more like he was inviting himself in on the joke.
“I wish I could say yes,” Namjoon hefted the sample bags up. They slid unpleasantly against his bare skin, threatening to fall. “I was just sort of hoping the situation would resolve itself.”
“The situation, meaning...the tide? Interesting statement from a marine biologist.” Namjoon’s rescuer carefully unfolded his legs, dangling them down until they hit the rock below him. He was barefoot, Namjoon noticed. He carefully climbed down to the next outcropping of rock and held out his hand. “Give me your seaweed and you can climb out.”
Namjoon couldn’t stop himself from saying “They’re samples, actually,” while handing them over, which the guy seemed to find hilarious. His hands free, Namjoon could climb up over the layers of jagged, slippery rock, out to the safety of shore. He hoped that he looked a little less like an idiot after climbing out; he did have years of practice clambering around shorelines all over the world, he was tall and not entirely unathletic, and he had really nice grippy shoes. The climb out was nothing, with the use of his hands.
“Thanks,” Namjoon said, shaking out his wet hair. “Seriously, thank you, man.” He reached out to shake the guy’s hand. “I owe you.”
“I didn’t want it on my karma if you drowned,” the guy said, still smiling. “I’m Hoseok.”
“Namjoon.” Namjoon was still holding Hoseok’s hand, he realized, shaking it for a beat too long, and he dropped it. Now that he was closer, he could see that Hoseok was shorter than him, lithe and tanned and toned, wearing a loose white tank top over lime green boardshorts that were either incredibly fitted or just couldn’t contain those serious thigh muscles. He both looked incredibly delicate and like he could maybe choke someone out with his legs. Namjoon was starting to wonder if he had dreamed him into existence.
The sun was starting to go down, dramatic pink and orange and gold splashed across the sky, painting them both in soft light. Hawaii was stunning; Namjoon wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to it. “Hey,” he said, surprising himself. “Want to get a beer or something? My treat, I owe you my life.”
Hoseok laughed. “I’m not sure you would have drowned down there, but sure, thanks.” He pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head and his bangs spilled out over his forehead.
“You underestimate my capacity for overthinking things,” Namjoon said. “I could have died out there, analysis paralysis is the silent killer.”
“Well in that case,” Hoseok said, shooting him a sidelong glance. “You want to buy me a burger with that beer?”
Honestly, Namjoon couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more. He didn’t say that though, he had some small ability to play it cool. Instead, he said “You got it, I just have to stop by my car and grab a shirt first.” He grinned. “Drop off my samples that I risked my life for.”
Namjoon didn’t miss the way Hoseok’s eyes dropped to Namjoon’s chest when he mentioned getting a shirt. God, he hoped he was reading this right and it wasn’t just wishful thinking. As they started walking toward the parking lot, Hoseok asked, “So what is all the seaweed for?”
Whatever face Namjoon made -- a mix of glee over being asked, overlaid with the panicked realization that he could and would talk about this for hours if nobody stopped him -- caused Hoseok to laugh and wave his hands. “No, no, really, I’m asking. What are you studying?”
“A specific kind of ocean pollutant, actually, and how that might be carried along in migratory patterns of larger marine life.” Namjoon took a moment to mentally refile the information in his head, condensing it for the digest version. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to make this stuff interesting, it was just that this beautiful boy had rescued him from his own stupidity and then rescued him from another night eating takeout in his crappy rented room, and he just wanted-- to impress. To be impressive, but not show off.
“And this pollutant shows up easier in a certain kind of seaweed? Makes sense.” Hoseok had his hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts, pulling the stressed material even tighter. He was looking at the sky and thoughtfully talking about Namjoon’s studies and Namjoon wanted to die, he was so hot.
Apparently Hoseok mistook Namjoon’s staring for something else, because caught his eyes and frowned, the corners of his mouth dipping downward. “Hey, you think a dumb surf bum can’t know things about science?”
“Oh my god no, no, that’s not what I was thinking. I was just...looking at you.” Somewhere, off in the distance, Namjoon could just feel his sister laughing at him. Change the subject, he thought. “So, uh, you surf?”
“Yep, started when I was a kid. We moved here from Gwangju when I was eight, my parents wanted me to pick up some local culture.” He grinned. “Boy, did I pick it up. I’ve never wanted to do anything else.”
“You compete?” Namjoon asked as they got to his car. Digging in the backseat, Namjoon found a clean t-shirt and wrangled it on.
“Teach,” Hoseok said, not taking his eyes off Namjoon. “I speak Korean, so I get a lot of tourists that way, sometimes actors and idols on vacation. I’ve also taught myself enough Japanese that I can teach the Japanese tourists as well. Good money in that.”
“I can see that,” Namjoon said. “I mean, I just met you twenty minutes ago, but clearly you’re the patient teacher type.”
“Sometimes.” He made a little “ehhhh” motion with his hand. He had pretty fingers. “It keeps me in the water and a roof over my head.” Hoseok was leaning against the trunk of Namjoon’s car, watching him. Namjoon thought that he could move over, right then and there, and kiss him, and Hoseok would let him. It was palpable, that feeling of mutual attraction, sizzling and sparking quietly in the dim, hot evening. It felt like the buzzing of the cicadas around them, the distant crashing of waves into the shore. Namjoon could kiss him, right now, in this parking lot, and just the knowledge of that, his delight in that singing, whirring, buzzing sensation inside him, kept him from doing it.
It had been a long time since Namjoon had felt like this, he wanted to hold onto it a little longer.
There was a place nearby that had decent burgers and cheap beer; it was flanked by two larger, flashier spots that got all the tourists, so it was a favorite of most of the locals. Namjoon hadn’t been here long enough to be considered a local, but he’d spent most of his time on this particular beach and had heard about this place early on. He and Hoseok ended up there, at one of the small outside patio tables.
They talked easily, for two people who had just met. Namjoon talked more, but Hoseok was more animated, imitating people he was talking about in his stories, sometimes jumping up to illustrate a point with his body. He was intensely physical in a way that was dizzyingly hot; he inhabited his body like an athlete, always exactly sure of where he was in space. It was something Namjoon had always envied in other people, but had been unable to cultivate in himself.
When the waitress came to check on them Hoseok declined a second beer after Namjoon had ordered his. “I have the worst tolerance,” he said, covering his face with his hands. “I don’t want to embarrass myself.” His cheeks looked a little pink when he said it, and Namjoon liked that he admitted it out loud, that he wanted to make a good impression. Namjoon wanted to tell him I’m easy, but that wasn’t true. He usually didn’t find this kind of thing easy at all.
After dinner, they walked slowly back to Namjoon’s car, taking the long way through the grassy park running along the shore. That humming, buzzing feeling was back, stronger than ever. Namjoon looked over at Hoseok, the low, full moon illuminating his profile, and Namjoon thought that he might not be able to stop himself from leaning over and kissing him right there, tumbling them both over onto the grass. He itched with it, tingling with anticipation every time their pinkies almost brushed together as they walked.
Namjoon’s car was nearly alone in the parking lot when they got back; they could still hear the bustle of the tourists and locals out and about on the main strip, but that was all muted. The roar of the ocean was louder here, surrounding everything with a persistent liquid thrumming. Just as they got to the edge of the parking lot, Hoseok took Namjoon by the arm and pulled him into the shade of a large tree, crowding him up against the trunk. It was almost black here, and Namjoon couldn’t see Hoseok’s face as he said, “Tell me I’m not misreading this,” and put his hand, tentatively, on Namjoon’s shoulder.
That was it for the last of Namjoon’s self control. He cradled Hoseok’s jaw in his hand, bent down, and kissed him softly, barely brushing their lips together. All of that beautiful tension just drew tight and let go, sparkling into a thousand fireflies centered in Namjoon’s chest. It was such a beautiful sensation that he did it again, feeling the warmth of Hoseok’s skin under his hand, the rough spots where he’d missed shaving, the way his lips were perfectly soft.
Hoseok hummed and brought Namjoon closer, opening his mouth and making the kiss deeper, a tiny bit dirtier. Namjoon could feel him smiling into his mouth. God, he seemed like he’d be so much fun. Skimming his hand down Hoseok’s side, Namjoon let his fingers play in the slight dips between Hoseok’s ribs, then down the valley where his stomach muscles cut into his hips. That feeling of potential back, that mutual attraction, I want to be with you, I like you.
When they pulled apart to breathe, Hoseok said “Hey, so, do you surf?” The trees rustled in the wind and the branches parted, letting enough ambient light in that Namjoon could see the way Hoseok’s eyes were shining.
Namjoon wanted to kiss him again, but he said, “I’ve never even tried, I’m not that coordinated.”
“Well, I know a good teacher.” Hoseok wrapped his arms around Namjoon’s waist and kissed him again, as soft as the first time. “If you’re free tomorrow.”
“What if I drown,” Namjoon asked, kissing him back. “That would be awful.”
“Well, then I know a good rescuer too,” Hoseok said thoughtfully, but Namjoon could hear the laugh threaded into his words. “He saved some guy’s life today, it was amazing.”
“My hero,” Namjoon murmured, pulling him closer.
The waves crashed into the shore, the tide rising, swallowing the rocks and seaweed and tiny crabs. People laughed in the distance, under the full moon. A bird called overhead. Two people, under a tree, in the dark, started falling in love. The world was, for a moment, perfect.