Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first day Hansol had to save this guy, he’d almost thought it was a joke. 

The guy looked like a swimmer. He was—well, he was built, toned but not overly bulky, and if Hansol watched him jog up to the surf from his lifeguard chair over the tops of his sunglasses, then that was his business. The man glanced up at him, waved with an incredibly bright smile on his face, then took the surfboard out from under his arm with a set expression of determination and began paddling out. 

He swam well too, his arm strokes broad, deliberate, and obviously strong. When he’d waded far enough into the ocean he stopped, and looking back, the clumsy way he’d clambered into the surfboard should have been Hansol’s first warning sign, but Hansol was a bit too distracted by the spread of his—quite frankly, glorious—thighs on the waxed and wet surface of the surfboard to notice. 

Then the man had seen a wave approaching, and as he got ready to catch it, Hansol noticed that just about everything about the guy’s stance was completely wrong. He was going to crash, hard, and Hansol sat up a little straighter in his chair. It wasn’t every day he got to see a guy this handsome just completely wipe out. 

And wipe out he did. It was a little amazing actually, the way the board slipped and the man’s feet flew up, going completely head-over-ass into the rolling waves. Hansol even laughed a bit, his eyes fixed on the place where the guy had splashed down, waiting for him to pop up all soaked and embarrassed. 

But the man wasn’t coming up. And then he still wasn’t coming up. And then Hansol choked on the fear in his chest as he leapt from the chair, rushing into the water. This dude could swim too well to still be submerged; he must have hit his head on something under the waves, must be incapacitated, must have broken his neck. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Hansol said the English curses under his breath like a mantra as he swam out, coming first to the man’s floating board, tethered in place by a strap to his ankle, then he felt underwater, trying to find the guy. Thankfully, the stranger felt his searching hands and grabbed at him, Hansol grateful he wasn’t unconscious, hauling his body up and beginning to wade back. 

The man’s neck looked fine, but he could still have a head injury, Hansol thinking it was a likely possibility with the dazed way he was being stared at as they made it back to shore. Hansol laid the man flat on his back on the sand, peering over him. 

“You okay?” he asked. The man nodded. Definitely no neck injuries, then. “You didn’t hit your head?” 

“I...” The man trailed off. He was still just staring, and Hansol frowned, pulling his whistle from around his neck. 

“Follow this with your eyes,” he requested, moving the whistle in all eight directions through the man’s field of vision. No shaking pupils or uneven dilations. Then why was he still being stared at like that? “Can you sit up?”

The man nodded again, and Hansol placed a hand on his shoulder to help him into a sitting position. This guy really was startlingly handsome up close, with a sharp nose and high cheekbones and a picturesque beauty mark on his left cheek. 

“Don’t lean back so far next time.” Hansol told him. It wasn’t enough of a tip to fix everything wrong that the guy had done when attempting to catch the wave, but it would help. Would help him fall off his board in a different direction maybe, instead of completely backwards. “Steady your balance with your arms.” 

“Okay,” the guy finally said. “Thanks.”

Nodding a bit, Hansol squeezed the guy’s—firm, wow —shoulder and made his way back to the lifeguard stand. 

The second time Hansol had to save this guy, he learned his name was Lee Seokmin. It had been two days since Hansol had last seen him, and it seemed like in that amount of time, Seokmin had learned absolutely nothing about balance, or about finding the surface of the water when he crashed a little too hard. He was still very good at the staring, though, when Hansol had to swim into the ocean again and fish him out. Seokmin sat on the sand and Hansol looked down at him, messing his fingers through his own bangs to wring the water out, pushing his sunglasses up on his forehead to get the hair out of his face. 

“You’re leaning too far forwards now,” Hansol told him, trying to demonstrate in the short time he had before he needed to get back to the lifeguard stand. “Keep your legs apart okay? And grip the board with your feet.”

Seokmin nodded, watching Hansol’s stance intently, then wiping out again less than five minutes later. 

By the third day, Hansol wasn’t sure what to think.

“Don’t you know how to swim?” he finally decided to ask, because the muscles of Seokmin’s back were no joke; he could feel them now, his arm around Seokmin’s shoulders as they made their way back to shore. 

“I do!” Seokmin said quickly. He definitely wasn’t disoriented enough to need Hansol helping him like this, but he had leaned in close when Hansol’s had begun assisting him, and Hansol definitely wasn’t going to complain. They made it back, Seokmin sitting in the sand again. “It’s just—it’s different in the ocean, I guess.” 

“Okay. Do you know the waterpark that’s down the street?” Hansol asked. He didn’t really know why there was a waterpark just fifteen minutes away from the beach—it truly seemed a bit redundant—but it was what it was. After thinking for a moment, Seokmin nodded. “It has a wave pool. Go there, swim some laps, practice some flip turns. Maybe that’ll help.”

“What about practicing surfing?” Seokmin asked, as Hansol started back to the chair. He turned, taking a few paces backwards. 

“Swimming first!” Hansol had the idea to call Jihoon, a friend that was a lifeguard at that waterpark, to tell him that a man, both as beautiful and sinkable as a marble statue, would be coming in, and warn him that he might need extra attention. “I would hate for you to drown out here on my day off.” 

Seokmin was back the next day. He was also very determined, which was sweet to watch, but led to Hansol getting up and down from the lifeguard stand a lot. He didn’t mind though; the day was hot, and the water felt great, and the small chats he got to have with Seokmin were much more fun than working. 

“Like this?” Seokmin was asking. He’d placed his board down on the sand next to the lifeguard stand, stepping up on it, positioning his feet and holding his arms in a way that was supposed to help him keep his balance. Hansol lifted his sunglasses, giving Seokmin a wink and a thumbs up. Seokmin responded with a smile so bright that the midday summer sun beating down on them felt dim. 

Seokmin left to eat but came back less than an hour later, and Hansol had a small glimmer of hope that Seokmin might still be on the beach when his shift ended. He was, Hansol hopping down from the lifeguard chair when his coworker Mingyu relieved him and jogging over. The action felt like it could be overeager, but Seokmin just smiled at him, so Hansol didn’t care. 

“I’m off work now,” Hansol told him.

“Is this a warning that you’re not going to save me anymore?” Seokmin asked, but he was still smiling, and Hansol laughed. 

“It’s kind of an offer to help you out, if you want,” he responded. “Let’s do it out of the water, though. You need to learn the stances on dry land first.” 

Seokmin agreed readily, letting the surfboard fall onto the sand, the flat of it hitting the shallow tide and splashing water up into both of their faces. It left Hansol reeling and spluttering, and he would have been embarrassed if Seokmin hadn’t been doing the exact same thing next to him, and Hansol just began near-choking with laughter instead.

Seokmin genuinely wanted to learn. It was incredibly cute, to be honest, the serious tilt to his eyebrows as he tried hard to copy Hansol’s stances. He wasn’t good at it though, and Hansol often had to walk up to correct things about Seokmin’s posture, like the way he was holding his arms or his legs, or how he was letting his balance rest. It only took about twenty seconds of coaching Seokmin on how to properly distribute his weight through his thighs and between his knees for Hansol to feel ready to write up a petition to get Seokmin’s legs declared the eighth wonder of the world.

They were only on the sand together for an hour, Seokmin making Hansol do more laughing than any kind of teaching, when Hansol’s body betrayed him. He hadn’t eaten in hours, and while he hadn’t really felt his hunger, his stomach was a different story, letting out a loud growl.

Seokmin obviously heard it, letting out a gasp, his eyes comically wide.

“You just got off work! And you haven’t eaten!” he exclaimed at Hansol. Both of those things were true, so Hansol nodded slowly, not quite sure what the big shock was about. “I’ve just been holding you up, I’m so sorry, I don’t want you to think that you have to teach me, just because I’m so bad at this—”

“I wanted to!” Hansol said quickly. “I offered, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” Seokmin looked like he felt bad, and that made Hansol feel a bit bad too. 

“I mean, if you want to make it up to me…” In truth, Hansol wasn’t very shy, but that didn’t mean the butterflies in his stomach went away whenever he said something that could be a bit risky. He went for it anyway. “You could get dinner with me, or something.” 

The way Seokmin lit up was almost breathtaking, the immediacy of his answer putting a smile on Hansol’s face. “Okay!” 

They decided quickly on a burger place that was barely across the street from the beach, getting their milkshakes, burgers, and fries to-go so they could return to shore to eat them. The sun was just barely starting to set, Hansol sitting back against a sand dune with his burger in his hand, his fries in his lap, and his milkshake between his knees, hoping that the seagulls would be merciful enough to leave them alone for just a little while. 

“So… You’re a lifeguard?” Seokmin asked. It was a poor attempt at a start of conversation, and Hansol felt just a bit enamored by it, glancing over with a smile to Seokmin’s embarrassed face. He decided to let the moment slide, nodding and answering genuinely. 

“Yeah! I’ve lived around here my whole life, so it was kind of the obvious choice,” he said with a nod. “I go to school, too. Part time, because I have to save up the money for classes. Slow and steady, you know.” 

Seokmin nodded. He looked so honest and interested that Hansol wanted to keep talking, despite being the one in his friend group that usually preferred listening instead. 

“I started at a pool, and it’s so much easier than the beach. It’s way more boring, though. You don’t see sharks at the pool.”

Seokmin’s eyes went big. “You’ve seen a shark?!” he asked. 

“Oh, yeah.” Hansol waved a hand, taking a big bite of his burger. “I saw one last week.” 

Seokmin seemed to need a moment to take that information in, Hansol laughing and nudging his shoulder. 

“What about you?” he asked. “Just visiting?” 

“Yep!” Seokmin put all his food down in his lap, and stretched his arms up over his head. Hansol didn’t have the self control not to stare. “Month long summer vacation.”

“And you thought you’d just learn how to surf? What made you decide that?”

“I wanted to!” he said happily. “Thought it could be fun, to do something different with my summer.”

In truth, “just wanted to” seemed like a pretty weak reason, with how Seokmin seemed to be making a genuine attempt to drown himself multiple times a day, but Hansol just nodded.

“Are you having fun?”

“Oh, lots!” Seokmin beamed. On anyone else, that answer would have seemed too enthusiastic, maybe to the point of being fake, but Hansol could tell it was genuine. Seokmin looked beautiful, the backdrop of the starting sunset making him glow. “I miss my friends, but they’re calling me every day. One of them asks me to give him a breakdown of all the money I spend.”

Hansol didn’t really know how to respond to that. “What? Why?” 

Seokmin squirmed for a moment before answering, and he didn’t look at Hansol’s face, holding his burger up to hide himself instead. 

“I’m… I’m kind of stupid,” he said. Hansol couldn’t help himself, shaking his head immediately.

“You’re not. I’m sure you’re not.”

Seokmin looked him over, as though trying to gauge whether or not he was serious, or was messing with him. 

“I… Thanks. I’m too gullible, though. My friend really thinks I’m going to get looped into some pyramid scheme, or accidentally join a cult or something. So he asks me every day what I spent my money on, and the things I put my signature on. It, uh… Actually has helped, a couple of times.” 

He ended with a sheepish grin, and Hansol laughed a little.

“Being gullible isn’t that bad though,” he said, taking a quick sip of milkshake. “It’s a good thing, I think. It means that you believe the best in people, no matter what. I think that’s admirable. It’s really sweet.” 

Seokmin was staring at him again, much like he had on the first day they’d met. But this time, he didn’t have the excuse of a possible head injury. 

“My other friend wants me to get all caught up in some… I don’t know, a whirlwind summer romance or something,” Seokmin continued, looking in his lap to laugh. “And I… I mean, I guess I wouldn’t really be opposed to that. But—but I’d have to find the right guy, and honestly, I’m not really looking around.” He took a sip of his drink too, his eyes wandering just about everywhere before landing on Hansol’s face. “I’m mostly just looking at you.” 

Hansol wasn’t quite sure what those words were supposed to mean, if there was supposed to be an actual implication there, or if talking about romance in general was what Seokmin was trying to do. It made Hansol want to stick his head in the sand though, just a little bit.

Seokmin seemed to get embarrassed too; a smile appeared on his face and he looked away, glancing around and letting out a small laugh. His eyes caught on the seagulls that were beginning to hover around them, and before Hansol could stop him, he picked up one of the french fries from his lap and tossed it out into the sand for them. 

Dinner was officially over. Hansol knew they only had a few moments, so he gathered all of their trash up in one arm, reaching for Seokmin’s hand and grabbing it with the other, tugging him to his feet. Seokmin barely had the wherewithal to pick up his surfboard.

“What—?” he started, not having time to finish his question, but not needing to, the answer obvious; the seagulls were on them, chasing them down the beach. 

The birds didn’t let up when Hansol dumped all of their food trash, so Hansol laced his fingers with Seokmin’s and tugged him into the surf. They ran out together, Seokmin doing a great deal of yelling, Hansol unable not to laugh, water splashing up around them. The birds finally got the hint when they were about waist-deep—they were smart enough to know that beachgoers never carried their food into the ocean—retreating back to the trashcan to rip through the garbage, and Hansol was laughing so hard that he had to wrap an arm around his own stomach.

“What—why did they do that?” Seokmin asked, eyes wide. 

“You never feed the birds!” Hansol exclaimed back at him. He brought his hands up to wipe at his face, and ended up only able to use one, suddenly and acutely aware that he was still holding Seokmin’s hand. “That’s—that’s the first thing you learn at the beach. Don’t feed the birds! They’ll chase you!”

Seokmin watched his smiling face before breaking out into a laugh too, releasing his surfboard out from under his arm and grabbing Hansol’s other hand as well, leaning into him slightly as he laughed. Hansol felt just a bit dazed by Seokmin, by his hair tousled by the ever-present beach breeze, by the way the pink-orange sunset was casting pretty colors across his cheeks, by the illumination of the smile on his face. He could kiss Seokmin now, he thought, could just lean in, could feel the smiling curl of Seokmin’s lips against his own. He squeezed Seokmin’s hands just a bit tighter.

The increase of contact seemed to pull Seokmin from his laugher and then he looked at Hansol again, the amusement fading just a bit to something that seemed more like nerves, his grip loosening. Hansol let Seokmin’s hands go, let his own hit the water with a bit of a splash.

“The beach closes at sundown,” he heard himself say. Seokmin nodded a little, reeling his surfboard back in by its tether and holding onto it. 

“Will you be here again tomorrow?” Seokmin asked.

“It’s my day off,” Hansol lied. He was written up on the schedule, technically, but Mingyu wasn’t, and Mingyu probably owed him for something. If it turned out that Mingyu didn’t, then Mingyu was still a big softie that was willing to make sacrifices for love. Mingyu would take his shift if he asked. “I could meet you here, if you want? For more lessons, I mean. If we get here earlier in the day, we’ll have more time.” 

“I mean, the sunset is really pretty,” Seokmin said, glancing across the water, Hansol nodding in agreement, “but I’d like that. I really would.” 

“Awesome.” The word choice immediately made him feel lame. “Cool.” That wasn’t much better, but Hansol decided to just give up on a smarter response, especially when Seokmin smiled at him again. It was small, simple and close-mouthed and pleased, but as easy as that, the sunset wasn’t the prettiest thing on the beach anymore.

“Neato,” Seokmin responded, and Hansol burst into laughter again.

Seokmin was already there when Hansol walked up on the sand the next day. He made a quick stop by the lifeguard stand first, though; he had a soda for Mingyu, as well as a promise to buy him lunch sometime in the near future. He had half a mind to take the offer away and drink the Coke for himself when Mingyu gave him a bit of a wolfish grin.

“He’s cute,” Mingyu said, nodding towards Seokmin. “You’re lucky you spotted him first.” 

“Hey, you already have Jihoon,” Hansol pointed out. “Don’t be greedy.” 

“Jihoon thought he was cute too, that day he went to the pool,” Mingyu said, giving Hansol a wink. Hansol threw the Coke can at his face. Mingyu clapped the can against his chest to catch it, wincing and letting out a loud whine at the cold metal hitting his bare chest. The sound must have carried on the breeze, because Seokmin glanced over, and his face broke out into a smile.

“Hansol!” It felt goofy, how immediately and widely and uncontrollably Hansol smiled back. “Hi!” 

“Hey!” Hansol waved, then jogged up, Seokmin catching him in a strange, one-armed half-hug when he was close enough. “We didn’t really set a time or anything, I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“Oh, no.” Seokmin waved an arm. “Don’t worry! I was just excited to get here, that’s all. I was early.” 

Again, Hansol was left wondering if he was supposed to be implicated in that, or if Seokmin was just really excited about getting more surfing lessons. Again, regardless, he kind of just wanted to stick his head in the sand.

“Let’s um…” He grinned, and Seokmin giggled at him, just a bit. “Let’s get started, then.” 

“Okay!” Seokmin dropped his board in the shallow surf, spluttering all over again when sea water came up and splashed him in the face. Same as before, Hansol nearly doubled over in laughter as Seokmin giggled back and wiped at his face. 

“You’re cute,” he couldn’t help but say, patting Seokmin’s shoulder. “Show me that stance we went over yesterday.” 

Seokmin’s first try of getting on the board lined up perfectly with a wave coming in, and the surfboard washed back, sliding under his weight. He would have completely fallen in the sand if Hansol hadn’t grabbed him, one arm behind his back and the other on a bicep, holding him steady. Seokmin’s bare skin was sun-warm under his hands. 

“Careful,” Hansol told him, and Seokmin gave a small laugh. 

“Thanks.” Seokmin smiled at him, and Hansol had to remind himself to let Seokmin go. “I’ll—I’ll try again.” 

Seokmin’s form actually looked pretty good on the board, Hansol telling him so, the praise getting a grin of excitement. 

“Should I try it in the water?” he asked, and he was so eager that Hansol just gestured to the open ocean, nodding.

“Sure, why not?” 

Hansol waded out with Seokmin, resolving to be far enough that he was properly out of the way, but close enough to be the one to pull Seokmin out of the current himself instead of Mingyu, who had eyes on them, longer legs, and could swim faster than him. 

For the first approaching wave, Seokmin lined himself up for it and everything, but when the time came to pop up he stayed kneeling, and the wave passed him by.

“Come on!” Hansol shouted, waving his arms around. “You can do it!” 

Seokmin offered up a sheepish grin. On his second attempt, he simply slipped off his board, not even being fully submerged in the water. On his third try though, he stood, and the wave completely bowled him over. Hansol laughed a little before going after him. 

“Good job!” Hansol exclaimed at him, once his head was out of the water.

“No it wasn’t,” Seokmin countered, but he had a bit of a smile on his face. He also had wet bangs in his eyes, Hansol pushing them off his forehead. Then he realized how close he was, and moved back a few paces.

“Well, let me recheck your foot placement,” Hansol suggested, because everything else about Seokmin—except maybe his confidence—seemed to be in order, and they began heading back to the sand. “Maybe they were too far apart, or something.” 

It was hard to tell, honestly, where Seokmin should place his feet.

“Your feet are huge,” Hansol couldn’t help but say, when Seokmin stepped up onto the board again. Then he regretted it, regretted it instantly, because all the words really sounded like they were a euphemism, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. 

Thankfully, somehow, Seokmin didn’t seem to notice. 

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he said instead, and Hansol tried, very quietly, to keep himself from choking on his tongue. Seokmin’s voice went a bit sing-songy. “Samseongdong hairtail feet, you know.” 

“R-right.” 

Hansol coached Seokmin for a couple of hours, alternating between wiping out in the surf and practicing up on shore. It was obvious, though, that Seokmin wasn’t used to spending so much time in the sun; halfway through hour three, he sat on the sand and gave Hansol a bit of an exhausted look. 

“I’m tired,” he confessed, and Hansol sat down next to him.

“We can stop for the day, if you want,” Hansol proposed. Seokmin shook his head rapidly. 

“No, I—we can keep going!” He struggled up, tucking his board under his arm, and Hansol stood too, putting a hand on Seokmin’s arm. 

“I mean, we can go do something else,” he amended quickly. “Get food, or, you know, just go inside somewhere.”

“So we can keep hanging out?” Seokmin asked, perking up, and it was so cute that for a moment, Hansol didn’t really even know what to say. He just stood there, not unlike an idiot that had lost his tongue, unable to do much more than nod. 

They left Seokmin’s surfboard by the lifeguard chair, Mingyu promising to take care of it, and fifteen minutes later found themselves sitting in a nearby bar, all windows and doors propped open with all the ceiling fans on high, the place boasting the best burgers by the beach and all-day karaoke. While the burger claim was disputable, the karaoke one was true, the two of them glancing across the table from each other and trying not to laugh at the obviously drunken man crooning his way through a ballad that had to be at least thirty years old. 

“Do you like karaoke?” Seokmin asked, when the guy finally finished the song and stumbled off the stage. Hansol shrugged.

“I mean, it can be fun, but…” It could be a ton of fun with his friends, but even then he usually had to be a little tipsy to get up and sing in front of people, and had to drag either Mingyu or Jihoon—usually both—up there with him. 

“I love it!” Seokmkin’s eyes lit up. “I love to sing. Want to sing something with me?” 

It was impossible to say no to that face, and Hansol found himself nodding. His head had barely moved in agreement before Seokmin had grabbed his hand and was pulling him up, putting a microphone in his empty palm. Once they got up there though, they realized that the man before may not have been singing ancient ballads by choice; this karaoke machine didn’t seem like it had been updated in maybe twenty years.

“I don’t know any of these songs,” Hansol confessed, Seokmin looking equally confused.

“Oh, I’ll just…” After some deliberation based on song titles alone, Seokmin picked something out for them to sing. It was a slow golden oldie, like the other song had been, and it was clear that Seokmin didn’t know the words. Hansol tried to play along anyway, tried to match the syllables to the beat, Seokmin doing the same when he wasn’t falling apart in a mess of embarrassed giggles.

Seokmin eventually pulled himself together, the repetitive nature of the song recognizable, multiple repeats of the chorus letting him learn the words and sing them properly. And then Hansol stopped singing completely and stared, open-mouthed and unable to help it, at the man next to him.

Seokmin was incredible. He was standing in a dimly lit bar at noon, eyes on the lyrics on the screen, hand wrapped around the dingy, grubby microphone, absolutely belting his heart out, and he sounded amazing. His voice was strong and clear and Hansol was reduced to gaping like a fish as he listened; Seokmin sounded good enough to be professional, Hansol wanting the entire bar to just shut up and listen to him. He was still gawking even after the song had ended, Seokmin turning to him in excitement. 

“That was fun!” he exclaimed, and the words helped bring Hansol from his trance. He began clapping for Seokmin, whose entire face went pink, the blushing worse when other bar patrons noticed him and began clapping too. 

“Stop, stop,” he complained, but Hansol didn’t.

“You sound awesome!” he insisted instead, Seokmin too embarrassed to try to sing something else, the two of them retreating from the bar and back to their table. “Do you—I mean, you have to be a singer, right?” 

“I, um.” Seokmin took a quick drink from his ice water, the cup sweating a ring onto the napkin it had been placed on, wetting Seokmin’s fingertips when he touched it. “I’m an actor, I… I do musicals.” 

“You’re kidding me, seriously? That’s so cool.” 

Seokmin didn’t look like he quite believed him, but he laughed along to Hansol’s enthusiasm anyway, shrugging a little.

“Yeah, I had some time between the last production I was in and my upcoming one, so my friends convinced me to take a break. Rehearsals start as soon as I get back.”

Hansol couldn’t help but ask questions as they finished their food, learning that Seokmin was going to be the main lead in his next play, that he was being a king, and that he was nervous because he was supposed to act angry and didn’t think he’d be good at it.

“Show me your best angry face,” Hansol requested. Seokmin thought for a moment before bunching up his lips and angling his eyebrows, and Hansol felt himself smile before he registered it would happen. 

“Oh, very scary,” he commended, and Seokmin’s cheeks puffed up at his immediate attempt not to burst out laughing. 

“Hey, I’m angry,” Seokmin said, trying to regain control of his expression. “I’m mad.”

“Right.” 

“I’m going to…” he cast around for a moment, looking for something to say. “I’m going to get you.” 

“Get me?” 

“Yeah. Definitely.” 

The expression was becoming comical, like holding a fake smile too long to take a picture, and Hansol leaned back in his chair.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I feel like I’m being threatened by a puppy,” he said, Seokmin breaking completely, his laughter loud and perfect, bracing a hand against Hansol’s upper arm and leaning into him. 

Seokmin paid for their meal, and they decided to walk around town. It was a cute place, a beachy-looking tourist trap, and Seokmin fell hook, line, and sinker for a lot of the souvenir stores, walking out of one in an oversized yellow t-shirt that said Rather Be Surfin’ and a beachy bucket hat that would look irremediably ugly on anyone else. Hansol couldn’t help but laugh at him for it, telling him how much of a tourist he looked—“I am a tourist! Shut up!”—and as much fun as it was to hang out with Seokmin, laughing and talking and telling stories, Hansol kind of just really wanted to kiss him too, especially after they got shaved ice, Seokmin’s mouth turning a deep red from the flavoring, Hansol knowing he must taste like cherries. 

“Hold on,” Seokmin said, his face and voice both startlingly serious as he pointed at Hansol with his shaved ice spoon—a cardboard spoon that Seokmin had been endearingly delighted about when he learned that the handle also doubled as a straw. He didn’t continue, Hansol raising his eyebrows.

“...yeah?” he finally prompted.

“Oh, it’s just that you’re teaching me to surf.”

“Right.” 

“But… Can you surf?” 

“What?” Hansol blinked, then smiled. “Do you think I’m teaching you how to surf, but I don’t know how?”

“I mean, I’ve never seen you do it, that’s all,” Seokmin defended. “You could be faking it. Maybe that’s why I’m still so bad at it.”

That genuinely had Hansol laughing. “Why would I fake knowing how to surf?” he asked, and Seokmin avoided his eyes. It was something Hansol was noticing he did before admitting something he found embarrassing, which only made Hansol listen more closely. 

“To, um… Hang out with me?” 

“Well, I do want to hang out with you,” Hansol told him honestly, taking both his and Seokmin’s empty shaved ice cups and tossing into the nearby trash can. “But I do know how to surf. I’ve been doing it since I was, I don’t know, ten?”

Seokmin was eyeing him suspiciously. Hansol had no idea where this mistrust was coming from but it was kind of hilarious, reaching down to take Seokmin’s hand and entwine their fingers. He pointed with a finger from their clasped hands, bringing Seokmin’s hand into the air with him as he gestured towards the beach. 

“Want me to show you?” 

Seokmin looked to their hands, looked to Hansol’s face, then nodded eagerly. Seokmin’s board was under the lifeguard chair where they’d left it, greeting Mingyu when they came to retrieve it. Mingyu noticed their hands with a raised eyebrow, but in a move that was both merciful and uncharacteristic, kept his mouth closed. They approached the water together, Hansol sitting to attach the board’s tether to his ankle while Seokmin looked over the waves. 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asked, frowning. The wind had picked up while they’d been out, the rolling waves crashing hard in a swirl of white sea foam. Hansol shrugged. He’d surfed in worse.

“Yeah! Plus, I trust Mingyu to save me,” he said, nodding up to his friend. “He’s big and strong.”

“You don’t trust me?” Seokmin asked. Hansol gave him a look. 

“Maybe you can bring me back to life after I get fished out,” he said. The insinuation was not lost on Seokmin, whose cheeks dusted a cute pink, but he didn’t look away. So Hansol winked at him, then jogged out into the water. 

The waves were worse than Hansol realized, once he actually got a good few feet away from shore. But he didn’t want to back down now. He wanted, embarrassingly but truly, to look cool in front of Seokmin. And he hadn’t lied; he would be fine. He had surfed in worse before. He could do this. It would look cooler in the rougher water, anyway. 

He managed to catch the first wave. And he did look cool, he could tell, saluting Seokmin as he passed, who jumped and cheered from shore with his face all lit up and his hands clasped under his chin. It was that cute reaction that urged him on and he knew, while he was doing it, that the next wave he was chasing might be too much for him to handle. He went after it anyway. 

The surfboard was bowled over by the waves before he’d even fully gotten to his feet, and he hit the water hard. The smack of hitting the waves didn’t actually hurt, but the current had him spinning, and Hansol realized very quickly that he didn’t know which way was up. He tried to crack his eyelids open, ignoring the familiar sting of salt water, but couldn’t really make out much in the sandy rushing water; he held onto the small amount of breath he still had in his lungs and gave a few strong kicks, his arms outstretched, hoping he’d either hit the sand or the open air. 

Neither happened. He kicked again, harder, but instead was buffeted roughly by the waves, and the beginnings of fear were starting to curl in his chest when he felt a strong hand grab at him. The hand closed around his forearm—Mingyu, it had to be Mingyu, though Hansol was surprised by how fast he’d managed to move—and Hansol held onto the arm in return, letting his body be pulled up. He was going to be teased so badly by his friends for this, ready for Mingyu to laugh at him as soon as his head was out of the water

Instead, it was Seokmin looking at him, soaking wet, his eyes wide with worry.

“I thought you said you could surf!” he exclaimed at Hansol. Hansol had never thought of himself as someone who would enjoy being the “damsel in distress”, but with Seokmin holding him with strong arms to lead him to shore, he definitely couldn’t say that he hated it. 

“I—I thought you couldn’t swim!” Hansol exclaimed back, wondering briefly if this was actually happening. Seokmin had been so hopeless over the past week, the second his feet had touched the water. Now though, he was moving expertly back to safety with sure arms and strong legs. 

They reached the shallows, then got out of the water completely, Seokmin giving Hansol a sheepish smile. Hansol had to sit down, Seokmin sitting in the warm sand next to him. 

“I, I’m… I’m actually a really strong swimmer,” he admitted. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed in the face of Hansol’s incredulity. 

“What?” Hansol pushed his wet bangs off his forehead. “Then why—why did I have to keep saving you? I really thought you might drown out there. And you kept wiping out on your board!”

“I’m super bad at surfing!” Seokmin said quickly. “That part’s true, really. But you just… The first day I came down to the beach...” He was doing that thing again, the embarrassed avoidance of Hansol’s eyes. “You looked really good up in that lifeguard chair.”

Hansol blinked at him. Seokmin flushed. 

“And—you just—”

“It was my friend’s idea,” Seokmin said quickly. He was so embarrassed. “He told me I should—I mean, that I could—that maybe if I—”

“Oh wow,” Hansol couldn’t quite believe that he’d just been successfully played, with what was quite possibly the oldest trick in the flirting-with-the-lifeguard book, by cute, smiley, bubbly Seokmin. Seokmin had gone quiet next to him, his face anxious, almost like he expected Hansol to be mad at him. Hansol, in turn, was trying not to laugh.

“Sorry,” he said, but Hansol couldn’t help a smile, bumping Seokmin’s shoulder with his own.

“I looked good in the chair?” he asked. Seokmin nodded. “How do I look now, then?”

Seokmin was so pink that Hansol wasn’t sure he’d be able to answer. He did though, the words bolder than Hansol expected. 

“Even better.”

That was it. Hansol gave in, looking for just a moment over the wet, sun-warm, wind-tousled man next to him before leaning in and kissing him. The kiss tasted like sea salt and sunshine, and Hansol loved it. Seokmin kissed him back, reaching up, and Hansol felt Seokmin’s fingertips against the nape of his neck. 

Surfing was canceled for the rest of the day. Hansol decided to ask Seokmin on a proper date, going to an actual restaurant for dinner. It wasn’t black tie or anything like that—the restaurant still allowed patrons in bathing suits, but it would be difficult to find a nearby restaurant that wouldn’t, being so close to the ocean—but at least it wasn’t a bar that sold mediocre hamburgers. The improvement in the food quality was nice and all, but Hansol quickly realized that it wouldn’t have mattered where he went with Seokmin; Seokmin was just fun, and good, and nice. Hansol didn’t want to say goodbye to him when the evening was over, walking him to his beachside hotel room, a laugh of surprise leaving his mouth when Seokmin pressed him up against the door and gave him a goodnight kiss that made his head spin. 

They spent the majority of the next day together too, Seokmin attempting to improve his surfing skills and Hansol encouraging him from the lifeguard chair until his shift was over. The day after, Mingyu relieved Hansol from his shift a whole half-hour early because he was so exasperated with them, and then had to walk up and ask them to leave the beach, because Hansol had started kissing Seokmin, and they’d gotten a little too indecent to be out in public. So they got dinner to-go from a fast food restaurant and Seokmin invited Hansol up to his room, spending the evening on his bed, talking and laughing, Seokmin sneaking quick kisses when Hansol least expected them. He always had the cutest grin in his face when he pulled away, happy and a little self-satisfied, and Hansol eventually cleared the bed of the remnants of their dinner and tackled a laughing Seokmin down against the mattress. 

He woke to a warm body in his arms, squeezing Seokmin a little tighter. Seokmin escaped the bedsheets when he woke up to take a shower and Hansol laid there, listening to the running water and the sound of Seokmin singing, and had the realization that the last thing he wanted was for Seokmin’s trip to end. 

He knew he couldn’t say that, though. What they had was the definition of a summer fling, a concept Hansol wasn’t a stranger to. It kind of came with the job of being a hot, young lifeguard at the beach, and he’d never been interested enough in the other person to feel true remorse when it was over. But he didn’t just want physical attention from Seokmin; he liked listening to Seokmin talk, liked learning about him, liked the stories Seokmin would tell about his sister or his friends, or the little details he would give about his life. It made Hansol a bit nervous, and he resolved not to do anything about it. They’d only known each other a week, and while Seokmin did seem to like him, asking for any kind of commitment felt like too much. 

So Hansol spent the next two weeks taking Seokmin on dates. They visited all of the worst places first—not actually bad, in truth, just the most tourist-oriented—then Hansol showed Seokmin around to his favorite small spots, like the stand that sold the best milkshakes, and the secluded corner of the beach behind a ridge of sand dunes that was always deserted, and therefore was always the best place for picnic dinners. 

Hansol couldn’t ask off of work on such short notice, nor could he live without two week’s worth of pay, but it wasn’t so bad; Seokmin was still trying to learn how to surf, and now that Hansol knew that Seokmin’s whole drowning routine had been an act, it was fun to jump in and pretend to save Seokmin when he fell off his board. Hansol played up a ridiculous lifeguard persona when he dived in, carrying him to shore and offering him mouth-to-mouth, making Seokmin turn pink and giggle. 

Finally, finally, Seokmin stood up on his board and actually caught a wave. Hansol was supposed to be on duty but he leapt from the chair with a cheer, rushing into the water to meet Seokmin and kissing him so firmly that when he stepped back Seokmin simply stared at him for a moment, then spread his arms wide and let himself free fall backwards into the surf with a splash. Hansol burst out laughing.

After a week, Mingyu decided that they should go on a double-date with himself and Jihoon, a proposition that Seokmin enthusiastically accepted. They didn’t actually go anywhere or do anything, meeting up hours after the sun had set to have a small beach bonfire. They sat around in the sand, talking and drinking leisurely, Hansol ending up sitting with Seokmin wrapped comfortably around him, one of Seokmin’s large hands slipped up under his shirt to rest against his chest, Seokmin’s cheek on his shoulder. It was nice, and it was fun, and it was great how well Seokmin got along with Mingyu and Jihoon. Mingyu and Seokmin even tasked each other with putting the fire out, making mad dashes back and forth from the sea to the fire with tiny toy buckets while Jihoon and Hansol laughed. 

“You really like this guy,” Jihoon remarked. It wasn’t a question, but Hansol nodded anyway. “I can tell. It’s kind of gross, dude.” 

“Yeah, whatever.” Hansol elbowed Jihoon’s side, and Jihoon shoved at him in retaliation. “He’s… He’s leaving in a week anyway.”

“I heard.” Jihoon glanced up at him. His arms were crossed and the wind was shoving his hair all up to one side, showing off his forehead and his undercut. One eyebrow was raised. “So, what are you going to do about it?” 

“Do about it?” Hansol echoed. He hadn’t really had a plan at all. “Just kind of… I don’t know, kiss him as much as I can and then just try not to cry when he leaves, I guess.” 

“That’s a pretty shitty plan,” Jihoon told him. 

Hansol came into work on the second-to-last day of Seokmin’s trip to see that his name had been scratched off the schedule. That day and the next—the final day of Seokmin’s stay—had been replaced by “Mingyu” in clumsy ballpoint pen and handwriting that Hansol recognized as Mingyu’s own. Hansol absolutely adored his friend for it, shooting him a quick text of thanks as he made his way to Seokmin’s apartment. He knocked, Seokmin’s eyes adorably wide when he saw Hansol standing there.

“Got the day off,” he explained, and Seokmin beamed at him, tugging him in by his shirt front, Hansol just barely managing to grab the door knob to close the door behind himself as Seokmin began to kiss him. 

The pretense of Hansol being Seokmin’s beachside tour guide was completely dropped, the two of them spending the day together in Seokmin’s hotel room. There was actually more talking than touching—and there was a lot of touching—but Hansol never found himself getting bored, never wanted to stop, never wanted to leave. And while they did order room service for lunch, they decided it would probably be worth it to order from an actual restaurant for dinner, Hansol agreeing to go out and get it. When he returned from picking up the food Seokmin was on a video call with someone, giving a bit of a bashful smile at being caught. 

“Who’re you talking to?” Hansol asked, setting the food on the table in the small kitchenette. An excited voice filtered through Seokmin’s phone speaker before he could answer.

“Is that him? Is that him? Let us see!” 

“Ah, I knew they would do this.” There was a sigh in Seokmin’s voice, but he was smiling, glancing Hansol’s way. “Do you mind?” 

“I’d love to meet your friends,” Hansol assured him. Seokmin had met his, after all. 

“Oh, he already sounds sexy,” said an unfamiliar voice, and it made Hansol laugh as Seokmin handed the phone over. 

“Uh, hi!” He waved a bit. “I’m Hansol.”

Two people were looking back at him, squeezed close together so they could peer at him at the same time. They introduced themselves as Seungkwan and Jeonghan, and were Seokmin’s roommates and closest friends. 

“And he looks sexy!” Jeonghan cheered, while Seungkwan gave what appeared to be an embarrassed laugh, letting his eyes fall closed as he swatted at Jeonghan’s upper arm. Hansol ran a hand through his hair.

“I… Thanks.” 

Both of them were very nice. Seungkwan was kind and funny, and while Jeonghan was very complimentary, there was also a bit of a glint to his eye that made Hansol a little nervous. It became clear quickly that Seungkwan was the one that both had persuaded Seokmin to leave and was anxious about him being gone, and Jeonghan was the mastermind behind the whole pretending-to-drown plan. But Hansol liked them, and it seemed as though they liked him too. 

“They seem cool,” he told Seokmin, who was putting aside his phone to start eating. 

“Yeah!” Seokmin exclaimed. Then he curbed his excitement with a bit of an embarrassed smile. “I mean, I think they’re pretty great. They’re the ones that told me I needed a vacation.”

“So I need to thank them then,” Hansol said, and Seokmin began to laugh. “I should send them a card or something.”

Despite how hard Hansol tried, holding Seokmin’s hand and kissing him and suggesting fun things for them to do, the last day of Seokmin’s vacation still had a note of melancholy to it. Every kind word and sweet action was chased almost immediately by the acknowledgement that it was the last one, with a sting of just how much Hansol was going to miss this, and miss Seokmin himself. 

He tried to keep it bottled in, not wanting to ruin their time together. He would be fine. He could wait until next year—he would, he realized, wait a whole year for another three weeks—if Seokmin wanted to do this again. If Seokmin wanted more evenings like this one, in swimsuits on a towel in the sand, a shared meal between them, hair dried by the wind and stuck with sea salt, the incoming sunset casting the first pink streaks across the broad sky and gently rolling water. 

“My friends really liked you,” Seokmin told him, cutting short a natural lull in their conversation. 

“Oh really?” Hansol was genuinely glad to hear that. “That’s good. I really liked them, too.”

“And… And I really like you.” Seokmin spoke quietly, honestly, almost like he was sharing a secret. “Hansol, I… I don’t want to leave.”

Hansol blinked at him, stunned, and Seokmin flustered up. 

“I don’t—I mean, I know I can’t stay here, that’s not really what I mean, but I just—I don’t—I’m going to miss you so much—”

Hansol decided screw it, screw all of it, placing his hand over Seokmin’s in the sand, leaning close and kissing him. 

“Could we try, then?” he asked. “Try to make this work, or make it official or whatever, because I—” 

He didn’t end up finding the words he was truly looking for; Seokmin launched himself across the towel and into Hansol’s arms. It knocked Hansol back, and he just let himself fall into the sand, Seokmin kissing him, Hansol smiling too much to properly kiss back. 

“Oh, I miss you already,” Seokmin told him as he pulled back, lifting himself up to hover over Hansol. Hansol reached up to pull him back down, sliding his hands down Seokmin’s bare back. 

“Don’t miss me. Don’t miss me yet. I’m right here.”

Once Seokmin was gone though, it was impossible not to miss him. It didn’t ache too much though, because the contact was almost constant; Seokmin sent Good morning, boyfriend! texts to him every morning that made Hansol smile every time because boyfriend, boyfriend, Seokmin was his boyfriend.

Seokmin was his extremely busy boyfriend. As he’d said, the rehearsals for his play began the day after he returned from his trip, but Hansol didn’t know that rehearsals were between eight and twelve hours a day, and were every single day, even on the weekends. It seemed exhausting, and Seokmin was often tired when he video called Hansol while he got ready for bed, but he seemed to truly enjoy it, and Hansol was happy he was able to throw his all into something he clearly loved. Plus, it was cute to watch his sleepy eyes as he brushed his teeth and washed his face and cuddled himself up in bed during their video calls before saying goodnight.

Hansol ended up becoming closer with Seungkwan and Jeonghan, too. Seungkwan was very funny and personable, often texting Hansol out of the blue to complain about Seokmin, or tell stories, or give random music recommendations. Jeonghan talked with him much less, but often sent him candid videos of Seokmin, of him randomly singing, or grilling something on the stove, or sleeping on the couch with his mouth hanging open. Hansol cherished all of them.

Seungkwan was the first one to bring up Seokmin’s upcoming free weekend. He mentioned it on the phone—because he and Seungkwan did that now, called each other on the phone just to chat; Seungkwan had somehow become one of his closest friends in a mere couple of weeks—said casually and in the same breath he was using to complain about his ever growing crush on the stageplay’s new hot and young assistant choreographer. Hansol latched onto it immediately, begging Mingyu to cover his shifts and coordinating his visit secretly with Seungkwan and Jeonghan. When he showed up to pick Seokmin up from rehearsal with one milkshake in each hand Seokmin had actually cried, throwing his arms around Hansol and kissing the breath from his lungs. 

The weekend almost didn’t feel real, an escape from the outside world to a more perfect place where physical distance didn’t exist. Seokmin showed Hansol the city during the day and kissed him down onto the bed sheets at night, and it was all over too quickly for Hansol to bear. He vowed to visit again if he could, but between Seokmin’s rehearsal schedule and his own academic schedule, which had restarted at the end of the summer, it wasn’t looking possible for the next month at least. 

There was one date he couldn’t miss, though. He’d had it marked on his calendar since he’d gotten the news, telling his shift manager to leave him off the schedule weeks in advance, his excitement mounting with each day that it grew closer. The opening date of Seokmin’s show. 

Seokmin had begged him not to come, saying that he wanted to perform the show a couple of times to get it “good enough” before Hansol saw it. Hansol had told him that was nonsense, but he hadn’t made any promises one way or another, so he knew that Seokmin assumed that he wasn’t going to show up. Hansol, however, was in Seokmin’s apartment the day of opening night with Seungkwan and Jeonghan, the three of them changing into the fanciest suits they had. Hansol had even been taking lessons from his sister over the past week on how to properly style his hair. 

“You clean up nice, beach bum,” Jeonghan told him, while Seungkwan hurried over to fuss with Hansol’s tie. 

“Yeah?” Hansol did a turn for his new friends, his arms spread wide. “I look good?”

“He’s going to love you,” Jeonghan said with a nod. “He might even cry again. That’d be fun. I didn’t get to see it last time.” 

“He’s going to eat you,” Seungkwan concluded with a nod, giving him a slow once-over. Hansol burst out laughing.

“I’m cool with both of those things,” he said, glancing down at the fancy watch on his wrist—Mingyu had lent him a fancy watch to wear with his suit, Hansol pretty sure it cost the same as a whole semester of tuition—and making a face. “I still have time to pick up the flowers if I leave in the next… Two minutes. Then I’ll meet you guys at the venue, yeah?” 

“Oh, the flowers,” Seungkwan said, with a swoon that was really only half-exaggerated. “Should I get flowers for Chan? I still can’t decide, we only talked to each other a handful times so I think it might be weird, but like, he’d like them right? And he worked hard helping choreograph for the play, and he’s so hot—”

“We’re going to go ahead and go,” Jeonghan cut in, wrapping an arm around Seungkwan’s head to lead him to the door. “Call us if you get lost or something.” 

Seungkwan continued voicing his predicament, his voice now slightly muffled as they left. Hansol knew he was short on time but had to just stand there for a second, a smile breaking out onto his face. He was painfully excited, slightly nervous, and inexplicably happy at the same time, his cheeks aching a bit by the time he finally arrived at the venue due to his inability to get the smile off his face. 

They didn’t have the most incredible seats—Seokmin hadn’t reserved them any, not knowing they’d be there—but they were good enough. Hansol thought he still would have been stunned by Seokmin though, regardless of where he sat; despite how often he heard Seokmin singing nowadays, his voice was still stunning, and he had some added acting and choreography this time. Hansol couldn’t wait to tell him he’d absolutely nailed his angry face look.

Hansol was on his feet for the curtain call, clapping and cheering. Seungkwan gave a bit of an embarrassed laugh at how loud he was being, but it was infinitely worth it when Seokmin’s head shot up and their eyes met, his expression going slack with surprise. Seungkwan knew a backstage shortcut to the dressing rooms, tugging Hansol in that direction once the actors were off the stage, but they were only halfway down the hallway when Seokmin was on them, still in full makeup and costume, hugging Hansol with such enthusiasm that it lifted him off his feet. 

“I told you not to come!” he exclaimed. 

“I was always going to come,” Hansol told him, and Seokmin hugged him again, pressing his face into Hansol’s neck. He smelled like hair gel. Hansol held on tight.

“We’re here too, friends that love you and support you,” Jeonghan said after a moment, his voice a bit dry, and that had all of them laughing, Seokmin pulling away to hug his friends, too. Seungkwan gave Hansol the flowers—he’d taken them for safe keeping, knowing Hansol would be bowled over—so Hansol could deliver them, and as Jeonghan had predicted, Seokmin looked a little teary-eyed. No tears spilled over though, Seokmin saved from crying when he laughed instead about how much of his makeup had come off on the skin of Hansol’s neck. 

Seokmin took Hansol’s hand, insisting it was okay for him to come into the dressing room with him to collect his things. He was reluctant to let go, but Seungkwan kept Hansol occupied by trying to flirt with the infamous Lee Chan, assistant choreographer. It devolved into an argument in roughly ten seconds, but they parted ways from the interaction smiling, so Hansol wasn’t sure what to think. 

They took Seokmin to dinner, Jeonghan and Seungkwan offering to pay when it was over, Hansol stepping out into the cool night air to stand outside while they waited, Seokmin’s hand in his.

“You know,” Seokmin had a smile on his face, “I’m going to have some free time again when performances for this play are over. Another three weeks, probably.” 

The insinuation was clear, and Hansol laughed. 

“It isn’t warm anymore,” he reminded Seokmin. “Summer is over.” 

“I’ve never been to the beach in the winter.” Seokmin countered. “There’s a first time for everything.” 

The excuse made Hansol laugh. He would love Seokmin to visit, of course he would, but the offer reminded him of how cyclical this was, that Seokmin coming would lead to him leaving again. 

Until it wouldn’t, Hansol realized, as Seokmin stepped close to press a gentle kiss to his mouth. He still had a year of school to get through before he was graduating, the slow ebb and flow of classes having gone on for so long that it felt a bit like a constant at this point. But his graduation had a date, a date that was now approaching. He’d never thought too hard about what his life would look like when he had a degree, never caring to plan that far ahead, figuring he’d simply stay at the beach until he worked something out. Now, though, he thought his future might be starting to take shape in the form of the man in front of him, the man that was holding his waist and kissing him with a kind of soft affection that Hansol hadn’t really ever felt before.

It should have been a scary realization, should have been something all-encompassing that crashed over his head and threatened to drown him. But Seokmin was too open, too kind and too good to be scary. Hansol kissed him back, kissed him just a little bit harder, feeling Seokmin’s fingers curl lightly into the fabric of his shirt. He’d catch this wave, he decided. He’d grip tight, hold on, and see where the current took him.