Work Text:
Dense cobwebs line the ceiling of the Destiny’s cabin. On a desk: a broken compass, a singed map. Beneath brass windows, buried in silk sheets, Hongjoong has one eye closed, the other still bandaged up.
Slowly, Seonghwa sits on the mattress to wake him. “Hongjoong-ah, we found food in the galley.”
“Better be cake,” Hongjoong murmurs, turning his good side to see.
A hard wave crashes in. The ship heaves.
Seonghwa takes the offering out of his coat. An orange, bruised, barely ripe. He peels each slice for his Captain, not telling him it’s the only one they have.