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On his twentieth summer, a curious, wandering hand was not on Sehun's list of expected things to see at the edge of the yacht.
Only two explanations were behind this spooky situation: a hooligan who thought it a good idea to sneak into the yacht and commit a most heinous crime in the middle of the sea, or the most unbelievable case of a ghost sighting.
When the hand stopped wandering and was joined by another, Sehun screamed in shock when someone—or something—hauled itself out of the water and plopped on the yacht's surface with an audible thud. Mind too frozen to function, it took several moments before Sehun could comprehend what exactly he was looking at.
Neither criminal nor ghost, the intruder looked at the surroundings before his gaze landed on Sehun. His eyes widened, lips parting to form a tiny ‘O’ before quirking into a smile that dazzled Sehun at first sight.
So dazzling that it momentarily distracted Sehun from a most standout detail. He discovered it shortly after his gaze strayed downward and nearly gave him a heart attack.
“Your expression during our first meeting was truly priceless!” Jongin always chuckled, every time he brought up the memory.
“Why won’t you make me forget?” Sehun always groused, every time he recalled the memory. “Can you blame me for being as shocked as I was when I saw you had a fish tail instead of legs?”
Jongin’s responding smile was equal parts amused and mischievous. He leaned back against the deck chair, stretching out his arms. “If it soothes your ego, I was just as shocked when you passed out. You were lucky I had fast reflexes, or you would’ve woken up with an aching head.”
Sehun snorted. “Fine; thanks for saving me from an untimely death three years ago.” He sat upright on his own chair, staring out into the distance. The once blue sky was beginning to fade, welcoming the warmer hues of dusk. “Are you going back tonight?”
“Yes. The full moon cycle is ending. It will be weeks before I can return again.”
Sehun couldn’t tell if he heard sadness in Jongin’s voice or the distant crashing of waves distorted his perception. Regardless, it didn’t lessen the gradual heaviness settling in his chest.
In the years of getting to know each other, Sehun was told that for as long as the full moon cycle lasted, merfolk could transform at will and mingle among humans. Sehun could never forget the morning he woke up and found Jongin sleeping on the deck chairs, unclothed and with a pair of legs. After some gentle persuasion, Jongin stayed with Sehun at his family’s summerhouse since it was right in front of the beach.
From then on, when Jongin surfaced at dawn on the first day of the full moon, Sehun would be waiting for him. On the last day, Sehun would watch Jongin wade back into the safety of the waters until his bright orange tail returned.
Just like now.
“Before I go…” Jongin opened the drawstring pouch he always brought with him. Out fell a pearl bracelet, shimmery white and a perfect fit around Sehun’s wrist. Jongin grinned. “I knew it’d suit you.”
Sehun had never seen pearls of this size in his entire life. He couldn’t even fathom the prices each pearl might fetch. Not that he’d sell them—Sehun kept everything Jongin gave him as a present thus far, starting from the very first sea glass a year ago to the beautiful (and, apparently, incredibly unique) clamshell last month.
But like all gifts, Sehun knew there was a catch. “What do pearls mean?”
How odd for Jongin’s cheeks to redden again, even as he held Sehun’s gaze. “Merfolk give pearls to those they deem precious.”
“You gave me an entire bracelet. Does this mean I’m very, very, very precious to you?” Sehun flashed Jongin a cheeky smile.
“And if I say yes?”
Pleasant, fluttery sensations tickled Sehun’s chest. “Likewise.”
The way Jongin’s face lit up imprinted itself bright and unforgettable in Sehun’s mind.
That night, in bed, Sehun stared at his gift collection. Sea glass, according to Jongin, was given as a token of a budding friendship. Exquisite corals were used as presents during celebrations. Exotic seashells conveyed Jongin’s sincerity of always keeping Sehun in his thoughts, even when he was back at sea.
On the next full moon cycle, Jongin broke tradition by giving his present on the first day.
Sehun stared at the pink starfish the size of his palm. It seemed to glow with a light from within, giving the starfish an ethereal quality. “This is cool. I’ve never seen this kind of starfish.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Something that strangely resembled disappointment flitted across Jongin’s face. It clashed horribly with the pout Sehun came to (secretly) find adorable.
Sehun turned the starfish every which way. “Well, your past gifts have always meant something. I take it this has one, too?”
Jongin’s nod seemed uncharacteristically meek. “Pink starfish are rare, and even rarer to be given unless a merperson is absolutely sure of their decision.”
Sehun’s eyebrows slowly rose. He noticed the blush staining Jongin’s cheeks; suspected he should take this seriously. “The pink is similar to your hair color. Both are pretty.” He didn’t miss the way Jongin’s blush deepened; the blooming smile. He hummed in contemplation. “If starfish is a rare gift as claimed, it must mean you’re giving me a symbolic representation of yourself…?”
“Oh, my Sehun is so clever.”
Sehun internally preened at the praise. His heartbeat ticked faster when Jongin sat closer to him, turning his head so that they were staring directly into each other’s eyes.
“Pink starfish are given as a present when a merperson is completely certain of who their heart beats for. Sometimes, the merfolk use it as a marriage proposal. If marriage is too soon, and that’s perfectly alright, will you at least accept my yearning heart?”