Work Text:
The ocean was tranquil — falsely serene with flat, wide horizon as if it wasn’t hiding a world of life just beneath the smokescreen of the surface. What did he know about it? What treasures could he imagine her waters held, close to her heart and cradled incredibly fiercely? The ocean was a mystery, as unknown and daunting as the elusive concept of an afterlife. Choi Han stared out into sea, and drank in the scent of her undiscovered secrets.
Then — he whistled.
Far away, barely visible to the naked eye and bookended by the undulating waves, a face bobbed up. He couldn’t make out the features, too far away for even him to discern, though he did recognize the shock of matted red hair. The head came nearer, dipping beneath the surface of the peaceful ocean before returning, closer than before. Soon, Choi Han was crouching down on his strong legs until he was sitting. Letting his feet dangle off of the rock he was poised over, misted by the salt of the open sea, and excited.
“Cale-him,” he greeted quietly, reaching a hand down slowly toward the stoic face. The merman swam away instantly, smoothly sliding back in the water and creating a soft splash. Choi Han relented. He’d confirmed that the creature disliked, or perhaps, distrusted the touch from humans, including himself. Cale didn’t have scars — no jagged lines or palpable fibrosis that Choi Han had ever seen — but not all wounds occurred from the skin deep; not all scars remained with you on stark display.
“Would you like to see what I’ve brought you today, Cale-nim? I think you’ll like this more than the last.”
He slipped around the pack crossing his chest so he could reach the zipper. He wormed out a roll of laminated paper, which popped out with a ringing sound.
“It’s from one of my favorite books, Cale-nim. Would you like to hear it?” The redhead sank several inches deeper into the crisp waters. His expression was as unimpressed as ever but Choi Han read the reluctant impatience there, too.
Once upon a time there was a swordsman. He had sworn under oath to remain loyal to a trashy rich lord, he read.
Choi Han recited the story, and when he’d finished, he handed over the page to Cale to study.
The merman took it with cordial hands, the brush of his sea-chilled fingers sending goosebumps up Choi Han’s muscular forearms. He rubbed them idly, brushing his thumbs over the fingers which had just touched Cale’s as he watched on, wordless. The redhead scanned his gaze in a slow zigzag down the page, reaching the bottom much quicker than Choi Han had with his voice.
“Tra—sh,” the merman tried, his voice a thousand moans of a pod of whales, and the chirps of a seagull in morning. He looked at the page, returned it to Choi Han. He slid his empty hand back beneath the surface, floating with only the top half of his torso revealed to the Korean man.
Choi Han smiled. He traced the curve of Cale’s eyes with his gaze instead of a tangible touch. He studied the small pale scales over the angles of his cheeks, and his thin lips. In Cale, Choi Han saw the ocean: silent, mysterious, yet with the magnanimity that encompassed entire species of varied life. He, not for the first time, wished he could see what Cale saw, wished he could follow him down into the depths of the blue tides.
“Choi Han,” Cale-nim hissed, slowly sibilant and in warning. The words weren’t beautiful, weren’t rushed as if with passion or in the unending devotion of a lover who promised him forever. Choi Han still fell hard, committing his voice to memory, committing himself to the wiles of this half-man.
Cale looked up at him like he didn’t know what he’d do with him and the swordsman — well, he just laughed.
“I’ll bring you another page tomorrow, Cale-nim. Stay safe?” For me? Will you stay safe for me? Cale splashed into the seas before he jumped up, arching up in the air and to Choi Han’s level so quickly that the brunet had only the time to widen his eyes minutely.
Cale tucked their faces together, the brief wash of the chill of the waves and the lingering taste of freshly dried salt pervading Choi Han’s senses. Choi Han saw Cale’s lips draw up into a small smirk, the vacuum in front of his mouth still damp and still yearning, before it disappeared much like the creature himself, swallowed whole by the surface of his home, stolen away from him until tomorrow.
Choi Han gripped tightly to the stone underfoot, nearly losing his balance. He almost hobbled his way home, much to the bubbling chortle of the merman he’d left, waiting for him in the depths of an ocean. Choi Han left behind his treasure, and a redheaded sea creature was expecting for his to return. And tomorrow, with the ebb of a new afternoon, and a smaller distance ever shrinking between them, the cycle would begin anew.