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Earth is filled with such immense flora and fauna that even the most expert humans haven’t been able to discover it all. Species and biomes evade them constantly—remaining secret for thousands of years, perhaps even for another millenium.
There are old tales of human-like creatures living in the sea. Everyone knows them—humans and the ones who do indeed find a home between dark waves and rocky shores.
Sirens, mermaids, mermen, merfolk, they go by a lot of names. It’s said that they roam the coastal regions, swimming in the shallow waters, biding their time for when a large ship sets ashore. Some stories even tell of sirens calling out to lost seamen, luring them into their grasp, pulling them down into the unforgiving sea, never to be seen again.
While those fables turn dark and dreary, Jeongin thinks they’re far from the truth.
His kin is peaceful and shies away from humans at all costs. They don’t want to be seen or discovered. They want to remain a secret for as long as possible.
Jeongin’s clan lives in the blue waters outside of the island humans call Jeju. It’s not a remote place, far from it, but it’s where they’ve resided for centuries. His kind prefers the warmer water in the region, finding plenty of food and resources.
Their fins range in a myriad of colors, though most take on an emerald green or deep purple. Of course, their scales and fins are far more vibrant under the sea than on land—where they’ve adopted the ability to blend in with the surroundings.
These types of merfolk are often described as powerful hunters—seeking species most try to avoid. Their beauty also reigns above most, with their long hair and bodies decorated by all kinds of seaweed and shells. The more one is decorated, the higher the status.
Jeongin—the son of their clan’s leader—takes pride in his appearance and the amount he’s able to pick and choose from. He will never admit to being vain, but he doesn’t hide the fact that he prefers to stand out.
However, standing out doesn’t only involve one’s riches but also one’s ability to care and provide for the clan. And since Jeongin is set to swim in his father’s path one day, he needs to be able to prove himself.
Thus, he’s taken it upon himself to join the annual hunt for a species of fish that only appears in their area once a year.
“Oh, so the prince has decided to join us?” Seungho, one of the most prominent hunters of their clan, says. A large shark tooth dangles from his left ear and his previously long hair has been cut short to match the more rugged appearance.
“Seungho,” Jimin giggles, her long black hair braided into a long tail. “His father probably ordered him to come. No one of his rank is here out of their own free will.”
Jeongin clenches his jaw. He looks down at the swirling fin. The light blue color—indicative of his lineage, shines bright even in the dark ocean.
“Don’t listen to them,” Seungmin, his best friend, sighs. He swims up to Jeongin and cards a hand through his long locks. The shells tied to his hair chatter, and Seungmin hums at the sound. “They’re just jealous.”
“I don’t get it,” Jeongin mutters. “I have so much to prove, and when I actually try, none of them care.”
He looks back at his friend, reaching to pull him close. Intimacy is important to their clan. Ever since they were young they have grown accustomed to clinging on to each other, both for connection but also protection.
Seungmin’s forehead rests against his own, and Jeongin feels himself grow calmer with each second that passes. However, that gentle quietness is quickly robbed from them when Taewook’s tail causes violent streams around them.
“Listen up!” Taewook says, loud and with determination. He holds up a long spear—carved from wood on old ships they’ve looted. “Today is an important day! We’ll be going after the Manea in the bay only a few knots from here. They are an elusive species, who are known to be on edge at all times.”
Jeongin stills, he doesn’t create distance between him and Seungmin, but he straightens his posture and pays Taewook—a respected general—respect.
“We’ll be traversing through intense currents and deep waters. I expect you all to be on guard at all times, this is after all, the season for fishing for humans as well. Large nets might be deployed around the bay, so keep your eyes open at all times! Do you have any questions?”
All of them shake their heads. Changbin—Taewook’s most trusted companion—swims around the group and hands out spears. Jeongin bites back a laugh when Changbin stutters and grows red when Seungmin pouts at his spear, begging him to give another—a ruse he does to keep Changbin’s attention on him.
“Jeongin!”
Taewook beckons him forward, fingers decorated by expensive rings, made of the finest shells. Jeongin doesn’t hesitate to go, swimming past both Seungho and Jimin with a neutral expression. He won’t let them ruin his day. He has too much to prove.
“You called,” he says, coming to a halt before the general.
Taewook nods. “Your hair,” he says, finger pointed. “It should be braided or kept short on missions like this. Those shells of yours make too much sound, and they may fall off when we traverse the currents close to the bay.”
His stomach sinks, and he hears Seungho snicker behind him. “Yes, of course. I will—”
“A simple braid will do,” Taewook sighs. It looks as if he wants to say something more, a reprimand or a scornful message, but he swallows those words and dismisses Jeongin.
The group gathers, and Seungmin swims up to Jeongin, his nimble fingers already separating his hair into different strands. “Don’t have time to make a tight one,” he mumbles. “But this will do.”
Jeongin squeezes in one final hug before Taewook whips his large fin in the water and calls for them to follow.
The pace is brutal, far quicker than Jeongin could ever have anticipated. It’s not his first hunting mission, but it’s the first one with this crew and for a species that’s almost regarded as invaluable.
He makes sure to fall to the middle, swimming in front of Seungmin, who he knows prefers slower but longer missions. This explosiveness doesn’t suit either of them. Still, They’re eager to prove themselves—though Seungmin has been a part of his father’s hunting missions for several years now.
The water grows treacherous and cold quickly. It might still be warm and comfortable on land, but several meters down into the vast ocean, cool streams surround them.
“Watch out!” Jeongin hears Taewook yell, his hand stretched out and pointed in the direction of barely visible ropes. Jeongin’s stomach churns as he swims past it. A large net lies there—several fish already trapped between the small squares.
Had it not been for the merfolk’s adamant fishing traditions, they might have viewed the humans' attempts as invasive. However, it’s one of the few things they share, so instead, most feel a deep respect for their ways.
“Jeongin,” Seungmin calls out.
“Yeah?” Jeongin answers, glancing back.
“Your shells.” Seungmin points to his ear. “They’re about to fall.”
A rush of nervousness nearly overcomes him. The shells close to his ears are ones given to him by his mother—a wonderful mermaid who lost her life far too early. He clutches the side of his head and tries to pull on the thick string of seaweed he has used to install them into his hair. The green fibers nearly disintegrate under his touch, and it’s when Jeongin feels one shell fall from his grip that a wicked current slams into his body and sends him flying off the path, his spear long lost.
His fin curls in on itself, the back of his hand slams into the side of his head; faintly, in the distance—somewhere he can’t locate—Jeongin hears Seungmin’s voice. He wants to answer—wants to say he’s okay.
But his head dangles.
And his shell falls out of his grip.
It dives down, glistening and rolling, entirely alone in a vast sea of nothing.
Seungmin’s voice appears like a call through a conch. “Jeongin! He’s hurt, he—”
Hurt? He’s hurt?
No, he’s not hurt, but his shell—his shell is about to disappear, a mere speck in the corner of his eyes. Seungmin’s voice remains a weak ember, but as his friend yells and begs for help, Jeongin feels his muscles strain.
He can’t lose it. He can’t fail because of a shell. He has so much to prove, and—
He dives.
Salty water surges around his body, lapping at his weary frame, begging him to stop—begging him to turn around and rejoin the others. A shell isn’t worth it. A shell, a simple decoration. A shell…the only thing he has that tells of his feats. Without it, he’s nothing.
He’s no one.
Despite his body screaming out in fear, Jeongin swims deeper—eyes fixated on the white, small object slowly falling. Briefly, he looks up, seeing the terrified face of Seungmin whose tail is cutting the water like it’s nothing. He hears his name and he hears the warnings.
The warnings his mother has told him of. The ones that his father hammered into his head every single night. And what his teachers begged them not to pursue.
The void at the bottom of the sea, where merfolk turn pale and gray—their fins jagged and their scales sharp. They don’t exist. That’s what his mother said. They’re just part of old stories and legends, a group who may have lived but now has long perished.
Perhaps banished to the depths of the ocean, where no light can reach.
He is fearful; he really is. A searing shiver runs down his spine and spreads into his fins—taking control and forcing him to continue.
Seungmin is there, and so is Taewook, but even their voices are growing frantic and afraid—about to give up, perhaps wondering if they should leave their prince to fend for himself. Maybe this is his chance to prove himself. Dive down, retrieve his treasure, and then, reach the surface with his breath still intact and the knowledge that he defeated the unknown.
Large rays of sunlight turn thin and flickering. The waves far above him are wild, swallowing all light. He’s deeper than ever before. A reef, built with colorful corals and rocks, decorates the edge of a cliff, his shell falling past it, ignoring the safe ground it could have landed on.
The drop is steeper than he could ever imagine. Sand covers a large bank that runs all the way down into all-consuming shadows.
“Fuck!” Jeongin yells, heart hammering and his finger cramping.
He can’t stop now. He won’t stop now—for when he looks back up, none of his friends are there anymore. A crushing wave of fear seizes his limbs, and for a moment, Jeongin wonders if they didn’t want to try too hard to help him. After all, the loss of a prince means a break in the clan’s power structure—leaving room for others to disrupt the hierarchy.
These thoughts nearly consume him, but they don’t quite manage to bring fear in him in the same way the true darkness does.
“I can’t see,” Jeongin says, rubbing his eyes—praying some sand has simply blinded him momentarily. But there’s nothing wrong with his eyes. He’s too far away from the habitat where his physique has the upper hand.
These depths are rarely traversed. Sure, there have been daredevils who swam deep when they were in need of a rush—or the praise of a potential lover—but most haven’t dared to even try. Why would they? There’s nothing there—nothing but monsters and wicked creatures, at least.
Jeongin fumbles. His tail slams back and forth erratically, and his fins contract at even the slightest odd movement in the water. His brain screams at him. He should be swimming back up to the surface. That’s what he should—
Fuck, he can’t even spot the shell anymore.
He looks up—seeking the sun—but what he sees is pure darkness. When he glances to the side, he sees the same. And when he looks down, nothing changes. He’s floating in an empty space, no light, no sound, and no form of life—making him wonder if he’s actually looking up to the surface when he bends his neck.
“Where am I?”
“Hello?”
“Someone? Can someone hear me?”
His own voice trembles as it pushes through the freezing water. Despite his efforts, no answer finds its way back to him. Jeongin pushes forward, eyes searching for his lost shell—but he knows that it’s futile, he doesn’t even know where the bottom is.
Sunrays, blue bays, and lagoons, that’s what he misses. Down here, there’s nothing. Not even any sign of nervous fish or lost crustaceans. He’s alone. All alone in the dark, too disorientated to even know where the surface is.
Something flickers. A light in the distance—barely visible.
“Hello?” he calls out, terrified of the response that might come. He remembers the warnings of his mother and father, about the creatures that roam in the dark. It’s one thing to recieve help, but it’s another to be devoured by a wicked monster that might resemble his kin.
“Who’s the—”
The light disappears, and Jeongin’s heart starts thumping—banging against his chest, wanting to escape. He searches for the faint glimmer, eyes frantic as he turns his head from side to side. His tail swerves, both seeking another creature but also ready to slam into whatever is hunting him.
Then it appears again, further away now. Jeongin swims towards it, recklessly and not thinking. But after only a few meters, the yellow light dims and he’s shrouded by darkness once more.
Jeongin calls out, begging for help and trying to explain that he’s not dangerous. He’s lost, and he’s scared. “Please,” he whispers. “I just want to go home.”
“Home?”
Something brushes against the back of his tail.
“Poor thing, you’re lost, aren’t you?”
Jeongin’s eyes flare wide. “Please, I—”
“Lost in the dark, unable to see anything.”
The voice is low, not quite deep, but it rumbles in the other creature’s chest, and Jeongin swears he can see the faint outline of fins.
He reaches out blindly, hoping to find purchase on steady flesh—not that he knows what he would do if he indeed managed to touch someone or something. “I’m lost. Can you help?”
A laugh, followed by the sound of water splitting, sends a shiver down Jeongin’s spine. He keeps his eyes open because he wants to be able to spot whoever it is, but also because it doesn’t matter if they are closed or not—it’s pitch black regardless.
“Your kind doesn’t belong down here,” the voice says again; this time, the word appears sharper, almost vindictive.
“I—I don’t, I swam down because I lost my shell.”
“I can see that.”
Jeongin nearly screams—for as he’s about to answer—his long braid is pulled on; inquisitive.
“Vain creatures,” the other spits out, nails scraping against Jeongin’s hair. “You got yourself lost because of a mere decorative shell, one that used to house a small Hermit crab.”
“It was given to me…”
The other—a creature that must resemble himself—clicks its tongue and tugs on his braid. Despite Jeongin’s fear, he allows it.
“Given to you?” the creature says. “And yet you couldn’t protect it.”
The braid falls free, and Jeongin curls in on himself. The fins on his tail flare wide, and he is ready to swim away. He blinks rapidly, trying to make out the shape that swims around him, but he sees nothing but the faint outline of something long.
“I didn’t mean to come down here. I was only—”
“Your kind never comes down here,” the creature says again, louder and angrier. “Too scary, too dark, and too terrifying. Your stories travel far, you know…”
“Stories?”
“Of pale merfolk with jagged fins and claws, ready to devour any creature they see.”
Jeongin stills. He curls his fists into small balls, keeping them at his side—a weak attempt at a defensive position.
“The ones who were banished to the depths of the ocean, never to see the surface again.”
“A-and are you?”
“Am I what?”
The light flickers again, a warm yellow. It dances above Jeongin’s face like a lure. It travels to the side of his shoulder, and Jeongin whips his head around to see who’s holding it. But he sees nothing. No one’s there. It’s almost like the voice of the creature is a figment of his imagination, and the light belongs to a monster ready to devour a puny little merman like him.
“Am I the scary merfolk your parents warned you about?” The voice travels around Jeongin’s head. “The nasty, gray creatures who belong in the dark?”
Jeongin swallows hard. His entire body is screaming at him, begging him to swim away, to seek safety far away from the cruel being that’s messing with him.
“I don’t know. I don’t—my mother told me plenty of stories, and some where—”
“Bad? Horrible?”
“No, they were sad stories,” Jeongin shoots out, his mother’s visage swims in front of his eyes. “Tales of how you were forced to flee after battles we—my clan—won.”
The light glimmers again—this time, it does so right in front of Jeongin’s face, causing his retinas to burn. He reels away, covering his face with his webbed hands. It causes his disorientation to worsen, and soon, Jeongin has no idea where the other is.
Everything falls still.
The light continues to glimmer, but it’s fainter now—almost subdued.
“Do you believe them?” the voice says.
“I don’t know,” Jeongin answers immediately; defeated. “I’ve never been down here. I’ve never met anyone like that…Like you?”
Something swims closer, obvious and unwilling to hide. Jeongin’s tail brushed against something hard and scaly, reminiscent of the feeling when Seungmin would sit close. “You are a merman, right?” He asks, head still moving, trying to see the other.
“And if I say yes, would you be scared?”
It’s said without any form of disdain; even the harsher tone from earlier is gone. Now, the creature almost sounds apologetic, as if he realizes he’s taken it too far.
“A little bit?”
A laugh. Jeongin shuts his eyes and brings his hand up to his chest, feeling his heart still beating faster than it should.
“Here,” the creature says, coming close again. “Hold this for me.”
Something light lands in Jeongin’s hand. It’s slightly slimy and warm—algae-like. The other must see his confused expression because a brief scoff wades through the water.
“Shake it.”
Jeongin looks up, seeing nothing. Then, he shakes it, and a faint glow of yellow appears. It’s barely there, but it’s enough to make the outline of a shape in front of him—flared fins sticking out, a slight silver hue to its body.
“Shake it again.”
Jeongin furrows his eyebrows before shaking it—breath nearly escaping when the light brightens. This time, he doesn’t hesitate to shake it again, suddenly seeing a luminescent creature between his hands—covered by a thick protective algae that’s translucent where it wraps around a small ball.
“It’s a type of decapodiformes, it’s like a squid but with—”
“Ten arms…”
The creature looks docile in his hand, unafraid and simply there to provide light.
“I’m planning on letting it go when I’m going home. It doesn’t really mind being trapped in there, but I don’t think I want to—”
The creature—no, the merman—talks, but Jeongin can’t help but stare. He lifts his arm and brings the light closer to the man, a hitch in throat. Silver scales decorate a sharp face with narrow eyes and lips curled up into a small smirk. Down his body, more scales appear, more than on Jeongin’s body at least. Large fins run along the sides of his tail, soft-looking and not at all jagged. Up on his head, two seemingly harder fins shine a bright white, almost covering his head in a crown.
He’s beautiful.
“Who are you?” Jeongin utters, his already reached out arm unabashedly traveling down the man’s body. He’s slightly larger than he is, but Jeongin wonders if the extra layer serves as good protection from the cold water they find themselves in.
The merman smiles—horribly handsome. “Minho,” he answers; amused. “And I’m the horrible creature living in the darkness, hidden from the world.” Minho drags his vowels, waving his arms through the water—not at all scary.
It’s such a show that Jeongin can’t help but cover his mouth, letting out a small laugh. While he doesn’t feel completely at ease, Minho’s playfulness speaks volumes—making Jeongin wonder if he’s simply being toyed with.
“Minho,” Jeongin says, tasting the name. It doesn’t remind him of home at all, but then again, nor does Minho. “I’ve never seen someone like you.”
“I’ve never seen someone like you,” Minho counters, swimming closer to Jeongin. “So many colors, but they look so dull down here.”
Jeongin looks down at his body. His normally vibrant scales and shells grow pale compared to Minho, who nearly seems to glisten even without—
A bright, bioluminescent glow erupts from Minho’s body, and Jeongin feels his breath get knocked out of his chest. He staggers back—but only for a second—before he dives forward to admire what he sees.
Colors of the entire spectrum illuminate Minho’s scales. The silver undertones simply intensify the glow, and he looks nothing short of moonlight dancing across the water in the late nights outside of Jeju.
“You’re beautiful,” Jeongin says, reaching for Minho. He doesn’t know why he’s compelled to do it, but he cups the man’s cheek and runs his thumb over a set of scales that appear to shine brighter than some of the others. “How is this possible?”
“We don’t actually live in darkness,” Minho says, seeming almost dazed under the touch. “But being able to camouflage down here is quite important.”
“Monsters?” Jeongin says without thinking, far too preoccupied by the beauty he’s staring at.
Minho leans into the touch, the flesh on his cheek gathering in Jeongin’s hand. “Monsters?” he snickers. “Sometimes, but I think you know how it is to live in an ocean where predators fare.”
Jeongin nods. Sharks, large squids, and even smaller fish with sharp teeth can all pose a risk—even if mermen are on the top of the food chain. “Yeah, I know plenty,” he says. “But none compares to humans with eager eyes and a wish to find out whether we are real or not.”
“I’ve never seen a human.”
The confession slams into Jeongin’s chest, and he lets go of Minho—full of regret when he sees the other’s disappointed look.
“You’ve never seen a human?” Jeongin asks, making sure he heard it correctly. When Minho nods shyly, he can’t quite wrap his head around it all. “Not even when you go to the surface?”
Minho scuffs, a smile lingering on his lips. “Surface? What makes you think I go there?”
Of course, Minho doesn’t go there. Jeongin feels so stupid and so out of it. He didn’t even know Minho’s kind existed, nor that they weren’t devilish monsters out to get them either. So why would he have gone to the place where water turns into air?
“Once,” Minho confesses. “I swam high enough to see some of the sun.”
“But you’ve never felt her warmth?”
Minho shrugs, his hand reaching out for a chain of shells around Jeongin’s midriff. “No, but my mother used to tell me stories when I was younger. She’s seen it several times, but she was also a daredevil, one who couldn’t find it in her to remain in one place.”
Jeongin doesn’t question the use of ‘was’. Instead, he wonders if her personality is what has made Minho swim up to him, a lost surface swimmer in the depths of the ocean. She might not be here, but Jeongin thinks she might still live on through her son.
“Pretty,” Minho whispers, rubbing the shell between his fingers—eyes set entirely on Jeongin’s face.
A rush of blood climbs up his chest and settles on his cheeks, causing Minho to repeat the compliment again. He seems to seek Jeongin’s shyness—thriving off it—even when Jeongin mutters that he’s speaking lies.
It’s weird how the two of them fall into a normal conversation. Jeongin nearly forgets where he is when Minho talks of his village and how it’s lit up by bioluminescent algae and simple organisms. It sounds beautiful, but Minho warns him that going there perhaps isn’t for the best.
But that’s not the only thing Jeongin finds himself lost in. It’s also the sudden tug at his heart when Minho smirks and comes with a snarky remark, one that bears no ill-intent, solely a type of playfulness Jeongin hasn’t experienced before.
He’s under a spell named Minho.
And so, when his algae light starts to flicker, Jeongin doesn’t hesitate to grab Minho’s hand, trusting the promise that he’ll find his way back home.
They swim in silence. Well, Jeongin’s rendered unable to speak, he’s far too intrigued—obsessed—with the way Minho’s fins and tail move in the water. He’s far more efficient than himself, and Jeongin suddenly doesn’t struggle to understand how he didn’t sense Minho until they were mere inches apart.
“Up here,” Minho says, finger pointed upwards. And he’s right, there in the far distance, Jeongin makes out the faint shimmer of sunlight and moving waves.
“But…” His words grow thick and unsure, and for a moment, Jeongin feels Minho’s presence wane—a feeling and a thought tha causes his stomach to churn. “Will I see you again?”
Minho remains silent, but his eyes flare wide, taken aback by Jeongin’s wish. “Will you swim down here again?”
“I—I,” Jeongin stutters, one hand finding purchase on Minho’s face again. “I have to find my shell. I can’t tell my mother I lost it. So yes, I fear I’ll have to return.”
“But you need help,” Minho hums. “A pair of expert eyes in the dark and scary waters? Because you’re terrified of the deep, aren’t you?”
Minho’s teasing sends a shiver down Jeongin’s spine and he nods slowly. “Seems like I have to bite the bullet and spend some time with a supposedly banished creature…”
“Oh, what a terrible fate,” Minho says, hand on his forehead as he dramatically pretends to faint.
“Terrible indeed,” Jeongin murmurs, running the pad of his thumb against soft lips. He pulls away the second Minho’s eyes find his—not because it was uncalled for, but because the amount of butterflies in his stomach is too much to handle.
||
At first, Jeongin wondered if the time he’d spent with Minho was supposed to be a singular event, for as he dove deep in search of his new friend, he found no one. He spent days searching, but only after a week—when he was about to give up—did Minho show up.
He looked apologetic and unsure, whispering excuses about how he couldn’t believe Jeongin actually wanted to see him again. Apparently, he’d caught wind of Jeongin’s status in his village.
“I’ve never felt such a connection to anything in this vast ocean before,” Jeongin whispered, his hands again on Minho’s face—something which seemed to destress them both. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?”
“Because you—”
Minho never managed to procure a proper excuse, something which only warmed Jeongin’s heart even more, and soon, the two of them found themselves exploring far more than Jeongin ever imagined to be possible.
He saw creatures he didn’t even know existed. They were large and scary, some with teeth larger than his own hand, but Minho reassured him that they were docile creatures unless agitated.
Seeing Minho’s home was still not possible, but they swam to a cliff, where they sat down—tails rubbing against each other—and watched the faint glow of Minho’s home. It was beautiful, even from a distance.
And it was that same glow that made Jeongin appreciate his own form even more. When Minho looked at him, his eyes were full of adoration, even when Jeongin’s normally vibrant colors grew pale in the dark. He looked dull in comparison to Minho. Still, the other couldn’t stop himself from touching Jeongin’s shells, asking where he got them and if they shone brighter in the sunlight.
It’s that very same sunlight that changes the course of their relationship. For now, at this very moment, Jeongin has Minho swimming next to him, their noses directed toward the surface.
“You’re doing well,” Jeongin reassures, a wide smile on his face. His entire body feels jittery and excited. They’ve talked about this for a long time. At first, it was Jeongin who expressed his desire for Minho to see the surface, but after a while, Minho found the courage to ask more questions.
They’re going to a remote place, far out in the open ocean and away from both humans and other merfolk. They decided against swimming during the day, both fearful of the repercussions if they were discovered. Thus, it’s the dark of night, and the moon is high in the sky. Although Minho always talks about the sun, Jeongin feels certain Minho will shine equally as bright under the starry sky.
“I don’t know if this—”
“Come here,” Jeongin urges, his hand stretched out. “Take it, and let me guide you.”
Minho looks contemplative at first, even glancing down into the comforting darkness, but as Jeongin swims closer, their tails brushing, he grabs Jeongin’s hand—a bright flush painting his silvery cheeks.
Their fingers intertwine, and although the traverse falls to a slower pace, neither of them mind. Jeongin feels his pulse quicken, and he hopes that Minho can’t sense it through their connected palms.
From the dark waters emerges a lighter layer. With the sun asleep, nothing is truly lit up, but the difference is still stark, and Jeongin can hear Minho’s mutterings as they swim over a colorful reef—corals and rocks smiling up at them.
Above—the faint shimmers of moonlight dances. “There,” Jeongin says, pulling Minho closer. “Do you see it?”
“It’s beautiful,” Minho says, eyes set on the approaching surface.
“We’re far out,” Jeongin murmurs, slowing down. “There won’t be anyone there, but I can check if you’d like?”
Although Minho—with his need to appear brave—pretends to think, Jeongin quickly understands that he indeed needs to scout. “Stay here, yeah?” he says, wriggling free from Minho’s suddenly hard grip. “Don’t go anywhere.”
It’s when Jeongin breaches the surface that an awful feeling settles in his stomach. What if—when he dives back down—Minho is gone? He wouldn’t blame him. He was equally as afraid the first few times he let Minho show him around in the darkest part of his home.
He takes his time looking at the landscape. Nothing is even in the vicinity, only the faint light of a lighthouse at the shore is visible. Even if he missed a boat still out fishing, his head isn’t enough for them to spot, not in the dark of night.
Clutching his stomach, begging for Minho to still be there, Jeongin dives back under. It doesn’t take long before Minho swims towards him, frightened and curious about whether Jeongin has seen something or not.
“It’s safe,” he says, and Minho melts into his embrace.
It’s odd. Jeongin used to be coddled by his older friends. Yet, here he is, with Minho clinging onto him, unable to stay further apart than absolutely necessary.
“The weather is great up there.”
“The weather,” Minho says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Like rain?”
There it is again—-that pang in his heart. Jeongin aligns their bodies, chest to chest, and whips his tail. “Rain,” he laughs. “No, it’s a nice and clear night, no cloud in sight.” He hears Minho mumble something about clouds, comparing them to how algae sometimes gather in clumps on a sandy bottom.
Frantic hands wrap around Jeongin’s body, and Minho lowers his forehead, allowing himself to be brought up.
The surface breaks, with Jeongin gasping at the transition from gills to nose. He brushes Minho’s wet hair aside, pointing to his nose. “Breathe manually,” he says, watching Minho’s silvery skin glimmer.
The brief glance he’d gotten off Minho’s beauty almost can’t compare to the sight he sees him under now—for glistening under the moonlights is a merman so ethereal it makes his heart leap.
His scales aren’t bioluminescent on the surface. Instead, they act as mirrors for light to bounce off on. Everything about him shines, even the glint in his eyes as he looks at Jeongin, lips parted and a compliment simmering on his tongue.
“It’s still difficult to see in the dark,” Minho finally says. “But your scales are blue—vibrant and enticing.”
“They’re not actually vibrant, they’re—”
Minho’s fingers land on his lips, and the man shakes his head. “I don’t understand why you dress in such extravagant shells and decorations when this is what you look like.”
“I,” Jeongin starts, but speaking against Minho’s light touch feels forbidden.
“You mesmerized me when we met for the first time. You were so afraid—shivering and trembling—but you were also headstrong and striking. I had never seen anyone quite like you. In all ways, you’re different from them—better than them.”
Minho’s fingers slide, and Jeongin nuzzles his palm, eyes set on the silver merman. “You’re better than them, too. All those stories are horrid, they don’t represent you at all.”
A silence falls between them. Jeongin bathes in Minho’s warm touch and attention. Minho continues to stare, not even glancing at the surroundings.
It’s a lot—their closeness, that is. Jeongin is used to physical touch with his kin, but none of it feels as intimate as this does. Their bodies are glued together, and their hearts dance rapidly. It feels good, better than anything else has ever done—no amount of vain riches can ever compare.
“Minho?”
Minho’s eyes are glassy, plump lips parted. “Yeah?”
“It seems you have put me under a spell… I struggle to breathe.”
A curious smirk and a slight head tilt. “Doesn’t the surface provide you with enough oxygen?”
“No,” Jeongin breathes out, emptying his lungs. He moves closer, stopping only when their noses rub against each other. Under the water, he feels Minho’s fins tremble, their tails swirling.
“I see,” Minho smiles; nervous. “I do think I know what might help—”
Minho’s words turn into a surprised yelp—for as he speaks, Jeongin decides he can’t wait anymore. He closes the distance between them, connecting their lips in a kiss so magical that Jeongin truly can’t seem to breathe without Minho.
They melt into each other—clinging even when the quiet waves beg them to dive back down. Under his touch, Minho shivers, his body easily arching and bending to fit Jeongin’s hold.
“You,” Minho breathes.
“Are beautiful,” Jeongin finishes, leaning in to kiss his lover again.
And there, under the bright moon, two mermen find themselves in a lover’s embrace—tied together by a world they’ve only just begun to explore.