Chapter Text
Jaewon gasped, swinging his tail even though his body felt like it was on fire.
He kept swimming, his hands pushing in front of him and pulling back, helping himself swim forward.
He saw how the water around him had clouded with red.
Blood. That's what it was.
It was his blood.
He didn't even see the boat. He didn't hear their yells, didn't hear the clicks and clacks of weapons, but he did certainly hear the yells of victory when something shot through his tail, pain shooting through him as he let out a scream, small bubbles escapinh his mouth and rising to the top of the rolling waves.
He was lucky that the spear only had rope tied to it, and he was even luckier that he got it untied right before they started reeling it in.
He couldn't remember well after that. He did remember hearing them yell, but he never heard them get closer, only further away.
What he could remember was the pain that came every push his tail gave, the clouds of red that trailed behind him, and sometimes even in front of him as the water started to change tides.
It wasn't long before he could hardly flap his tail, the pain being too much, and if he was honest, he could hardly feel his tail, which, in itself, was worrying.
Jaewon felt like crying. He really did.
But crying would just waste precious time to find someone, to find help, and this was crucial, because he was just impaled by a spear, and he was losing blood, and he was scared, and he felt numb, and he felt his body tingle all over and he never felt like this before so what's happening, it's all too scary, he just wants to rest, he just wants sleep—
He crashes into a rock.
Love that for him.
Jaewon pulls back, whimpers leaving him as he rubs as his face.
He looks around, trying his best not to acknowledge the blood clouding it's way through the water, but instead pays attention to the wooden beams an arms reach away.
He reaches for it, his hand gripping onto it, and pulls himself forward, a surge of pain sparking through him as his tail limply swings back and forth.
He looks above to see a dock, and with only a second hesitation, reaches up to the dock, and pushed himself up.
His arms rest on the dock, his head lays ontop of them, and his tail swings weakly in hopes of staying afloat.
He doesn't exactly know why he is resting at a dock. Usually, he would swim away, far, far away, before any humans could get him.
But he feels his energy draining, and just how little time left he has before he passes out, so this is as best as he can get.
He opens his eyes and is met with the sun setting on the horizon of the ocean.
A beautiful sight.
It's light is casted onto the waves and ripples, the surface of the water changing and morphing the light. Orange, purples, blues, and pinks light up the sky and paint themselves on the water.
He let's out a shaky breath, his eyes tearing up as he finds it more difficult to stay afloat, to stay on the dock.
His hands grip on the wood.
If he dies, he'll at least die mesmerised by a beautiful view.
Black spots start to cloud his vision.
He feels himself getting colder. He shivers.
His eyes are drooping close, and he can feel himself starting to slip off the dock.
He feels the tears start to drop down his face, leaving warm tracks of water where the cold air had nipped at his skin.
Then, he hears footsteps.
He wants to open his eyes, to push himself of the dock, but he's so... Tired. So fatigued, and so in pain that he'll only sink to the bottom of the ocean floor, and that would be such a boring and lonely way to die.
So he begs unconsciousness to hurry, to take him in their arms, cradle him and give him forehead kisses to help rock him into sleep.
But he hears frantic voices instead, and he feels something touch his cheek and shoulders, and it's at this point he started reconsidering just sinking to the bottom of the ocean and dying surrounded by the scraps of rubbish, lost things, and sharp objects used to hurt more than help.
"We got you," He hears. "Stay awake,"
Something about the persons voice makes him want to abide, to stay awake and to trust them, to let them help.
But humans are dangerous, he was taught that since a younge age. His earlier experience says no different to what he's been taught.
So he tunes them out, even when he feels two pair of hands tug at his arms, hoisting him up, even when he distantly hears gasps.
He feels someone hoist him up, cradling him in their hold.
Sleep, he figures. Or Death.
So he nuzzles into them, the warmth comforting.
And he sleeps.