Chapter Text
It starts in the summer, just like all typical fleeting, forgotten things do—heat running in waves down tired backsides, eyes squinted through the blinding glare, hearts light and free and quick to love.
But summer is a peculiar season—it runs fast and drags slow; the few months free of school and homework pass too quickly for the hours spent lying in the shade, popsicles in mouths to combat the burn of the sun, to feel like forever. And like the contrast in time, there are some events in the summer that spin lifetimes together despite the briefness of it all, knitting multiple threads into a single string of fate.
A boy looking no older than eight picks up the thrown-away shovel of another tearstained child. Hesitant smiles, a friendly hand extended as the tool is returned; something begins then as they meet eyes, smudged with wet sand and sea salt and other such things children like to get in.
Two strings entangle with a single phrase, knotting together in the abstract space bursting with billions of threaded patterns to mark the beginning of something grand, one of those rare yet beautiful things a single moment of summer can bring, and the lives of these two children, so different and so far apart, are now intertwined.
“Hey. Wanna play with me?”
•••
Jaehyun is seven years old when he moves from the metallic, structural bustle of Seoul to the city of Manhattan Beach in California, cheeks round with baby fat and eyes filled with childlike wonder, the jumble of basic English phrases an unfamiliar taste in his mouth.
He’s seven years old when he runs and hides behind his mother’s legs from the other kids who stare at him strangely. One asks their parent something, the foreign words too quick for him to follow, and the adult replies gently, a hand on the child’s shoulder. Jaehyun knows what they asked even though he can’t understand English yet. He bites his lip and reviews his ABC’s just a little harder every time it happens.
He’s seven years old when they’re at the beach and a boy picks up his blue plastic shovel, thrown away in frustration, and asks him in perfect Korean (Jaehyun’s mouth drops open in shock) if he wants to play together. He’s seven years old when Johnny comes into his life, bold and friendly, with his loud laugh and goofy smile and perfect English, a whole year older and from Chicago, and Jaehyun is starstruck.
Johnny Suh is eight years old and makes lots of friends on the beach who all laugh at his antics and jokes Jaehyun hopes he’ll be fluent enough to understand soon—and Johnny ruffles his hair and pats his back and introduces him to everyone (“Guys, this is Jaehyun! He just moved here from Korea, so he’s still learning English, and you all better be nice to him!”)—and Jaehyun thinks that Johnny is the first thing about America that makes him feel like he could have a home here.
Learning English comes easier when Johnny’s squeezed into the couch with him, a large children’s dictionary splayed across their laps, patiently pointing at the words and explaining them. Johnny teaches him phrases and brings him around the people on the beach and slowly, steadily, the sounds grow familiar; the words come with meanings attached; Jaehyun’s voice becomes louder, more confident.
Slowly, steadily, it starts to feel like home.
As luck has it, Johnny has to leave by the fifth week. Jaehyun cries and cries and throws a fit that is almost embarrassing considering that he’s almost seven and a half, and it’s only quelled by Johnny promising he’ll write physical letters until Jaehyun is old enough to get an email—and that Johnny will come back next summer.
Jaehyun hugs him tightly when they say goodbye, and if he sheds a few more tears, they’re wiped away with a hopeful smile.
Just like promised, Johnny comes back the next year. And the next, and the next, until it becomes a routine for his family to spend five weeks of their summer vacation with Jaehyun’s. Their house is large and spacious because Jaehyun’s parents make lots of money and they always have plenty of room for Johnny’s family of three, no matter how much his parents may insist on staying in a hotel.
The emails that start in Jaehyun’s fifth-grade switch to calls and text messages as he enters middle school. With every passing year, Johnny gets a little taller, a little more handsome, and sometimes Jaehyun can’t escape the fear of the older boy deciding one day that he’s now too cool to associate with anyone younger and stops talking to him.
Jaehyun has friends at his high school, of course—there’s a surprising amount of Asians in the area he lives in—Mingyu, Jeongguk, Yugyeom, and many more. It’s not like he isn’t what they call “popular”. He gets good grades and his teachers like him and he’s never gotten detention and he has a large circle of friends who adore and trust him with the same loyalty he reciprocates.
It’s just that Johnny is special.
It sounds horribly cheesy when he thinks of it that way and he’s sure if he ever says anything even remotely along the lines of that thought in front of his friends, Lisa really will smack him for being hopeless, but it’s true.
Johnny has always been good and kind and patient with him, the first to do so when Jaehyun first came to the States. Johnny has held his hand through all the nerves of adjusting to a completely different culture and place and never so much as got irritated when Jaehyun used to struggle with his English and was reluctant to go out and play with the other kids, even if that meant Johnny himself was sacrificing free time he could be using to socialize to teach Jaehyun.
Things have changed; Jaehyun’s English pronunciation has long been perfected and he’s gained more self-confidence over the years, but Johnny has always been something else—something unreachable not just with the physical distance between them. Johnny’s heart and mind have always been in a faraway place, unanchored as if searching for something unknown even to himself—and Jaehyun can’t help but be a little afraid of the day Johnny does find that certain something—of what he’ll do if the time comes.
The fear grows into something more tangible every year as they get older, especially now that Jaehyun’s in the summer before his last year of high school. He’s survived junior year, withstanding the pressure of choosing electives and maintaining his GPA and a pile of AP classes leading to grueling finals. It’s a weird feeling, being at the age stuck between your teens and adulthood. Everything is still uncertain and the chasm between child and adult remains too wide, too blurred. Whatever this stage of his life is supposed to be, its last years are meant to be cherished yet everyone seems to be focused on grades and the societal expectations of their futures more than anything.
Not to mention Johnny’s going to college by fall.
He’s completed all the required courses for an advanced diploma, scored top of his classes and organized public events; pretty much done everything there is to do to get noticed by the best universities across the country.
Jaehyun is almost a little envious. Almost, if it isn’t for the fact that Johnny has absolutely no idea what he wants to do for the future.
And that’s okay, of course—he can figure it out through university; they have time, except all the meetings their schools hold for the entire student body always make it seem like they don’t. It’s the paranoia, always the paranoia.
Half a month into summer on the same date as last year (and all the years before), Johnny comes back.
Jaehyun goes to meet him at the airport—alone. There’s an unspoken line between the closeness he has with his friends and family and the intimacy he and Johnny share, and both his friends and parents understand to give them space.
He’s gotten taller, Jaehyun thinks without surprise as Johnny appears at the arriving terminal with a single suitcase and a wide smile, taking wide strides towards him. Things are changing; Johnny’s parents are staying back in Chicago this year because their son is eighteen and a legal adult and he’s entering what schools so gratuitously refer to as “the real world”.
Johnny doesn’t look like he minds it so much.
“Hey,” he says, brief. Jaehyun meets his eyes and the smile breaks across his face too easily.
“Hey.”
Jaehyun doesn’t let himself have a proper look at Johnny until they’ve gotten back to his house. His mother rushes to them first, cupping Johnny’s face and cooing the same things about how “You’ve gotten so much taller! ” and “You grow handsomer every year; I can barely believe my eyes,” and, lastly, “Jaehyun, don’t you agree?”, and Jaehyun smiles and wisely stays silent.
Like always, they end up on the beach after warm greetings and unpackings are over and his parents (mainly his mom) finally let them out of the house after lunch with their regular warning to stay safe. Same place, same time; early July means the public areas with the boardwalks and restaurants are always packed no matter what time of day it is because this is California and they live in a beach city that only grows more populated with temperatures, and Johnny and Jaehyun have long worked out a path far away from the crowds, a strip of shore cutting below the mainland.
They take their time, of course—Manhattan Beach is basically Johnny’s second home and there are plenty of people who have been waiting for his annual return. Jaehyun’s own group of friends are by the beachside cafe half the kids from school work at and don’t look the least bit surprised to see Johnny; Mingyu and Jeongguk both wave excitedly, tripping over each other in their hurry to get up, and Lisa grins from the counter, speaking quickly to the manager on duty before ditching her apron and stepping out to greet them with a hug each. She winks knowingly at Jaehyun when Johnny turns his back and he shakes his head at her so fast he almost gets whiplash. From his seat, Yugyeom laughs good-naturedly.
See, truth is, Jaehyun doesn’t remember when he fell in love. Hell, he doesn’t even remember when his admiration gave way to a puppy crush and that puppy crush evolved into a concept his seventeen-year-old self can barely grasp at. It wasn’t, isn’t and will never be something pinpointed. Falling in love with Johnny Suh has never been a matter of moments spread out between years where something drastic happens and Jaehyun thinks, “Oh. I’m in love with my best friend.”
Johnny has always been there, simply a constant, comforting presence; he’s sat with Jaehyun through all his worst times and listened as he recounted the days where things felt like they were going nowhere—has always been the first to support him in anything—always made it clear that he’s just a call or text away, even if it means texting each other terrible jokes and complaints about chemistry teachers into the early hours of the morning on school nights.
Johnny comes back every summer and those are the few precious weeks Jaehyun cherishes the most. They learn to surf and have swimming competitions in the shallows and at some point, it just goes that all Jaehyun can think of is the way Johnny’s eyes crinkle when he laughs and the lightness in his steps and the warmth of his hands on those days, the ones where they look back at the crowds of Manhattan Beach, loud and busy and exciting, and then at each other, and, “Yeah, let’s get away from here for a while.”
Most of his friends know. It’s hard not to, and Jaehyun’s parents caught on years before he realized it himself, which would explain their reactions when he came out to them in eighth grade—the kind of memory you think back on and laugh at, but still not funny enough to reminisce over the dinner table because with it comes a duck-your-head-and-hide kind of embarrassment, something Jaehyun is loath to put himself through at any given time.
(Long story short, his mom hugs him tightly and his dad, though less prone to affection, offers a small smile and says, albeit a little awkwardly, “I know nothing about wooing guys, but Youngho already calls me ‘Dad’, so that’s a start,” and Jaehyun thinks he’s incredibly lucky to have them.)
Late evening finds them strolling away from the boardwalks and shops, the only sounds being the waves rippling and crashing onto the shore and a comfortable breeze masking the commotions of traffic and people from farther inland. The cave is visible from here—one they’d discovered when Jaehyun was eleven, angled away from the beach so only those who went out into the water by boat could glimpse it.
It’s still for all of five minutes before Johnny breaks; he grins and lifts Jaehyun up by the waist into a hug and Jaehyun laughs and clings on tightly, unabashedly affectionate as the elder spins him around a couple times before relenting. The sudden exertion has them both a bit short of breath and Jaehyun is sure his ears are glowing red, but Johnny’s still smiling and his hands are warm where they brush his arms and he’s always been charming, but even more so now; Jaehyun’s heart beats a little faster as he allows his eyes to drift over the soft waves of the older boy’s dark hair, styled differently from when they Facetimed last week. His face has grown more angular too, shoulders broader, and he stands over Jaehyun just a little taller, always a little taller. He wonders if Johnny has a girlfriend now.
“Earth to Jae?”
“Hm?” Jaehyun snaps out of his trance. Shit. (Someone’s voice chides him in his head—probably Lisa’s.) “Oh, I’m here. Just—sorry. It’s been a long day.”
Johnny’s eyes are warm. They remind him of honey. “If you missed me you could’ve just said so instead of staring and waiting for me to notice, you know,” he teases, reaching to tug at one of Jaehyun’s traitorously flushed ears, cooing. “You’re still so shy.”
“I’m not shy,” Jaehyun protests, batting his hand away. “Just distracted. We should go back soon. Mom might get worried.”
“I love your mom,” sighs Johnny, and it’s with the wistfulness of the old sailors in the area who talk about their adventures out at sea, some parts obviously exaggerated but the love in their words unmistakable. “Both your parents. They’re so great.”
Ever the clingier one (though he’d never admit to it even after being pointed out countless times), his fingers wrap around Jaehyun’s wrist, thumb over his pulse point. Jaehyun wonders if he can feel it—his heartbeat.
They walk back and watch the splashes of sunlight fade to the blanket of indigo curling over the sky along the way. The city glows at night, distant chatter from the famous pier crowded with tourists and residents alike an aspect of familiarity—the place is alive and full and stays this way year-round.
“Jae!” the calls always go as they pass by the theme park and through downtown, and sometimes Johnny’s name is heard as well from the long-dwelling residents; they wave back, of course, with polite greetings and a “How have you been?” if they can.
Present as always is the occasional, “Are you two dating yet?” or a, “The boyfriend’s back!”, all in good nature, and Jaehyun smiles and shakes his head and pulls them along just a little quicker, ignoring whatever nonsense comes out of Johnny’s mouth in response—usually along the lines of “Yeah, we’re dating,” or “It’s gonna be our third anniversary next Tuesday, by the way,” and focuses on remembering the way back to their neighborhood—despite it being a path he can draw across his own back with years of repetition.
Johnny doesn’t let go of his hand until they get home, giving it a squeeze before they part in the hallway to their respective bedrooms, and Jaehyun tells himself it means nothing; Johnny’s only being affectionate, as always.
Still, it’s hard to fall asleep that night.
•••
Things happen on the third day—things as in bad things because Jaehyun doesn’t know how else to describe the absolute shitshow that comes plunging its way into the mundaneness of their lives—Manhattan Beach is an expensive place only the wealthy can afford, and with that said, the crime rates have always run low and Jaehyun and the rest of his high school-age friends have never worried about anything that extends past the whole maintaining grades and occasionally sneaking out at night to hang out sort of thing. Typical teen behavior, as some would call it. Anyway. It’s a safe city.
There’s nothing foreboding about how it starts. Johnny drags Jaehyun out of his textbooks and notes with a roll of his eyes and a grin he’s never been able to refuse. Ever responsible (or not, depending on how you look at it), they do leave a note on both their beds in case Jaehyun’s parents wake up before they get back. Then they’re off into the night.
The streets are still alight with people and a few figures remain on the pier by the time they’re in clear view of the beach; they take the shortcut down to the caves because of course they do; they’re reckless and stupidly in love (Jaehyun with Johnny, both of them with the sea) and they’ve been doing this ever since they learned basic rowing skills and the whole “how to swim yourself out of bad situations in the ocean” spiel.
The sea cave is one they’ve claimed as theirs for as long as they’ve known about it and realized few others did—and those few never bothered to go near it anyway—and is what Johnny has always referred fondly to as the hidden jewel of the city.
Because as much as they both love the lights and food and the almost taken-for-granted friendliness of the people—a staple of the city, all of it—nothing has ever compared to the glittering waves and sea-salt taste of the air, a hundred times more prominent within the cool confines of the cave—a place that solely belongs to them, that not even Jaehyun’s other friends know about. A gift from the sea.
Their boat rocks a little with unuse, not dangerously; the waters are calm near the shore and they make it through the cave walls safely, having done this a million times before. The elevation of the stone is high enough that the tides are unable to flood the area and anything left inside for less than two weeks is almost guaranteed to be perfectly untouched, though one can never be too careful with that.
Unfortunately, the cave is where the problem starts. (Of all places.)
“Jae. Jae.”
Johnny drops his oar and reaches out to grab Jaehyun’s arm, grip painfully tight, and Jaehyun looks up in alarm. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Look,” says Johnny, eyes wide.
Jaehyun looks.
A cold sensation, almost icy, creeps down his spine and his instincts scream at him to run, heartbeat picking up pace—because whatever the fuck he’s looking at right now cannot be something ordinary.
Something is floating in the water, something that probably washed up earlier—a dark mass Jaehyun’s eyes fail to recognize in the pitch-blackness of the cave—it’s not moving but it’s large, about the length of a fully grown person, twisted in an awkward shape around—
“—Is that a net?”
“Fuck, where the fuck is my flashlight,” Johnny mutters, frantically scraping around the bottom of their boat for their supplies. “Jae, can you dock the boat in its usual spot?”
“Johnny, no,” Jaehyun says immediately, but he grabs the second oar anyway, carefully starting to paddle the rowboat left. “Whatever you’re planning—”
Johnny steps out onto the rocks and Jaehyun fights the urge to groan. Hastily, he secures the boat and gets out himself, following Johnny’s figure—if one of them is going to die, they might as well perish together.
Slowly, flashlight in hand, Johnny approaches the shadow in the water and kneels down by the edge of the stone surface. He flicks it on, and Jaehyun’s heart drops to his feet.
What the fuck.
“What the fuck.”
“Is that,” Johnny starts, his whisper sounding more like a panicked wheeze. His hand reaches out to grab Jaehyun’s, fingers ice-cold. “That’s not real. That has to be fake.”
Floating at the surface of the water is what looks to be a person—if you only focus on what’s above the torso, that is. Except it’s not.
Even at first glance, Jaehyun is close enough to see the unmistakable flap of gills on the side of the person’s neck, the skin there tinged a bluish-green. Their face is human, but not quite; it’s too pixielike, features too sharp and almost feline, in a way.
The webbed flaps—fins, probably fins, Jaehyun faintly remembers from the times he’s read on sea creature anatomy—extend from the side of the creature’s head where the ears should be (they might actually be the ears) and also appear around the sides of their torso, dotted with scales that, in the brightness of the flashlight, glitter with too many colors to count. And speaking of scales—they run up the sides of their arms and pattern across their cheekbones, too real to be mistaken for makeup. Just below where the hipbone should be, most of it hidden beneath water that’s too murky for the light of their flashlight to shine through, extends a tail made up of the same multicolored scales on the creature’s upper body.
“That’s real, Johnny,” says Jaehyun, his voice coming out shaky and too high-pitched. “That’s a mermaid.”