Work Text:
The sun is sitting just above the horizon by the time Dongmin arrives to work that morning, a furrowed pout on his face and his whistle clutched tightly in his hand.
Jaehyun, his boss, just smiles, completely ignoring the grumpy stature of the boy and instead reading out his warmest greeting. “Good morning, Dongmin-ah! Are you excited for this summer?”
Dongmin turns around and gives Jaehyun a pointed look before going back to unloading his drawstring in the employee lockers. The lifeguard cabin is old, with rotting wooden floorboards and cracked white paint peeling on the walls. It’s quite disgusting, actually, but no one typically stays within “home-base” unless they're being trained by Jaehyun.
Dongmin has known Jaehyun for quite some time, actually—ever since he began working on the coast. Back then, Jaehyun had only been a mere lifeguard, but he’s managed to become a certified trainer and now holds multiple specialized instructor titles. The only reason why he’s able to get away with his attitude in front of Jaehyun is because Jaehyun has always been utterly endeared by Dongmin, going completely out of his way to be friendly. It sort of worked, because Dongmin now considers him a friend, which was Jaehyun’s ultimate goal.
Speaking of. There’s a tap on his shoulder, and Jaehyun appears with an eye-crinkling grin and a clip board extended towards Dongmin. “Here’s the assignments! Nothing particularly new for you, right?”
He nods, mutters a quick thanks, and takes the clipboard from Jaehyun’s hands, quickly scanning names for his own.
He’s at the tower he’s normally assigned during the summer, which is great. What isn’t normal is the name that resides directly next to Dongmin’s—Kim Woonhak. He cocks a brow, then glances upwards at Jaehyun, who is already leveling him with a confused look.
“Something wrong?” Jaehyun asks.
“Yeah,” Dongmin mutters, sliding the clipboard back into Jaehyun’s grasp. “Who the fuck is Kim Woonhak?”
“Oh! Woonagi!” Jaehyun exclaims, suddenly pressing the clipboard to his heart like he’s coddling it. “He’s a bit younger, a temporary transfer from the West Coast. I met him for evaluation the other day, don’t worry. He actually seems like someone you may like!”
Dongmin scowls. He’s mostly used to being assigned with his familiar hyungs, like Sungho, who ended up becoming a close friend who he played card games with, or even Riwoo, who would initiate small back-and-fourth conversations to keep them busy during the calm hours of the sea. Being on the clock with someone new was going to be difficult, and was going to take lots of adjustments. “Hyung, I-“
“Trust me, you’ll get along great.” Jaehyun pats Dongmin’s back reassuringly. “He’s been lifeguarding for a while, he knows what he’s doing.”
☆
Kim Woonhak, in reality, does not know what he’s doing.
For starters, he shows up thirty minutes late. Dongmin is sitting, perched exactly one inch away from the railing, when he notices the teenager strolling up to his tower, an iced coffee in one hand and his whistle sitting in between his teeth. It’s not exactly the greatest first impression.
When Woonhak makes it up the stairs, his face suddenly drops. The whistle falls from his mouth and flops onto his chest. “Ah…Dongmin, right?”
Dongmin regards Woonhak quietly, eyes moving up and down, taking in his appearance. His bangs hang in his eyes and there’s a smattering of freckles across his cheeks. He's wearing the classic, bright red shorts, with a little fanny pack and a branded visor.
After a long stretch of silence, Dongmin finally speaks. “You’re new here, right?”
Woonhak perks up, making his way towards Dongmin with a smile on his face. Dongmin quickly notices its unevenness, how his lip quirks to only one side and shows off a row of sharp teeth. “Yeah! Hi, I’m Kim Woonhak, nice to meet you!” He outstretches his hand.
Dongmin just stares at it.
Woonhak’s face tightens in confusion. Neither of them speak—Dongmin’s face is blank, and Woonhak continues to hold his arm in front of him, as if expecting something to happen.
“Are you gonna leave that hanging there all day?”
“Well, are you gonna shake it?”
Dongmin seems to contemplate for a moment before responding. “No.”
“Why not?”
“You just seem too…excited, I dunno.” Dongmin turns his head away from Woonhak, opting to stare directly into the ocean.
“That’s pretty dumb.”
“It’s almost 9 in the morning and you’re already smiling. While on the clock. That’s pretty weird.”
“…It’s 9:30.”
“Case in point.” Dongmin suddenly turns around in his seat once again, an arm draped lazily across the lifeguard chair, eyes suspiciously narrowed. “Why are you thirty minutes late to your first day on the job, Kim Woonhak?”
Woonhak blinks, immediately letting out an awkward laugh. His palm reaches to scratch the back of his neck. “Okay. Technically I got here on time.”
Dongmin says nothing. Eventually, Woonhak gives in, flushing all the way to his ears.
“…I just couldn’t find the tower, okay?”
A beat passes. Dongmin resists the urge to laugh in his face, so as not to embarrass the newbie.
“You got lost?”
“I didn’t get lost!”
“No?”
“This beach is really, really big, man. By the time I found the main post, Jaehyun-hyung was already on duty, and he gave me half assed directions, which obviously isn’t his fault, he was busy, so please don’t tell him I said that—and there’s a lot of towers. A lot.”
“There’s four towers.”
Woonhak’s lips part, as if he’s trying to argue. But no words come out—instead, he backs off of his tippy toes and sighs.
“Right,” he says.
A quiet hum escapes Dongmin, the corners of his mouth threading to twitch upwards. He stands up from his chair, and he feels Woonhak’s eyes tracking him as he leans up against the wired railing.
He’s honestly been trying really hard not to laugh for the whole entire exchange. Not because Woonhak got lost—okay, maybe a little bit because of that—but because the kid seems genuinely embarrassed about it, if the blush that stains his face is anything to go off of.
“You know,” Dongmin starts, resting his chin in his palm. He waits until Woonhak joins him by the edge, the teen’s hands lightly grazing the metal to Dongmin’s left. “Most people can just…admit that they got lost.”
Woonhak looks confused. “I did admit it?”
“Well, you gave me a five minute speech about how big the beach was and how there’s so many towers.”
“There are a lot of towers!”
“Once again, there are four.”
“Four is a lot when you’re in a panic on your first day of a job,” Woonhak reasons. Dongmin turns to lean on his side, staring directly at Woonhak who won’t bring his gaze off of the sand. “My old beach only had two. An east and a west.” Shockingly, Woonhak actually grins at this.
There’s another awkward stretch of silence between the two. The only thing that’s heard is the crashing of waves against the shore and the chatter of people below them.
Finally, Dongmin begins to speak. “Okay then. That’s fair,” he nods.
Woonhak’s features are quickly unscrewed. “Wait, really?” He had most likely been expecting another argument, some sort of rebuttal. But Dongmin doesn’t have enough energy to keep it going. Besides, Woonhak is sort of cute whenever he gets shocked, which has already happened a couple of times. Dongmin wonders to himself if he’ll need to start a tally.
“Yeah,” Dongmin affirms, watching Woonhak slowly scan him for any signs of lying. When he presumably decides that there are none, his posture seems to loosen.
“That was easier than I thought,” Woonhak voices out loud.
It goes quiet between the two for another moment. It’s a bit awkward, but not exactly unwelcoming. Sure, Dongmin can already tell that this is going to be a long summer, based on the short, curt bantering that they’ve already seemed to develop. But it could also end up being a pretty fun summer, if things go well.
And in order for things to go well, Dongmin has to actually get to know this guy, just like he did with his other hyungs.
“So,” Woonhak says after a few minutes, taking a drawn out sip of his coffee, “how long have you been working here?”
Dongmin adjusts the sunglasses on his head. “A couple years.”
“Really?” Woonhak is shocked again. It’s still sort of cute, in a way. Dongmin feels his heart speed up, just a tiny bit.
“Mhm.” Dongmin watches as Woonhak’s eyebrows flatten, his gaze peering back at the ocean, where the sunlight is reflecting directly off of the clear waters.
“I guess that explains how you know where everything is, huh, hyung? Can I call you hyung? Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s okay. And I would hope I know by now.”
“Well, I mean, I barely know where anything is.”
“I noticed.”
“I-okay. You don’t have to keep bringing it up.”
“I really do, don’t I?”
Woonhak just sighs, but when Dongmin catches a glimpse of the younger’s face, he’s smiling as he does so. Something about it makes Dongmin smile too, a tiny laugh escaping his pursed lips. It’s a small thing, barely noticeable, but it makes the rest of that morning a little less unbearable as they work.
☆
As it turns out, Woonhak isn’t exactly the worst coworker to be stuck on a lifeguard tower with.
Over the first week, he does end up asking a lot of questions, every time Dongmin explains the procedure on this specific beach. To be fair, though, all of his questions are simply asking for clarification, which proves that Woonhak had actually been listening to Dongmin in the first place.
And, better yet, Woonhak was actually remembering the answers that Dongmin gave him, and applying them to his shifts. He picked up habits quickly, and he seemed to care about doing his job correctly. This should be the bare minimum, after all—but Dongmin has watched trainees come in and out of this beach for years, and he knows well enough by now that this isn’t the typical behavior of new employees. It’s quite refreshing.
And, as Dongmin predicted, Woonhak is sort of fun to work with. He is noisy, though—but that was to be expected. Normally, they sit together when surveying the beach area, and on a particularly quiet day, Woonhak will begin…muttering to himself. Dongmin isn’t sure if Woonhak even realizes how loud he’s talking, but he makes humorous comments about the people on the beach that sometimes make Dongmin snort to himself.
One morning, Woonhak looks down and scoffs. “Does that kid even know he’s been digging the same hole for the past hour?”
Dongmin doesn’t even look away from the water. “He’s building a sandcastle.”
“No, he’s not,” Woonhak argues.
It makes Dongmin laugh. “How would you know?”
“Because I’ve been watching him,” Woonhak points towards the beach, where there’s a child with obnoxiously bright orange swim trunks, his hands caked in wet sand. “He hasn’t even added anything to it the entire time. He’s just scooping the sand.”
Dongmin watches as the kid fills his plastic bucket with sand once again, before dumping it right where he had scooped it from. “Maybe he’s perfecting the hole?”
Woonhak finally drags his gaze away from the kid to directly lock eyes with Dongmin. “Are you seriously defending that…that excuse of a sandcastle?”
“I’m saying that you’ll never really know what he’s actually building, Woonhak-ah. Maybe you're just doubting him.” The kid accidentally drops his pail and begins to cry.
“Yeah, I’m doubting that,” Woonhak retorts. Dongmin just shakes his head, turning his attention back to the water. He expects Woonhak to move on, but instead, he hears him mumble, “Fine then. I’ll respect his…his artistic process.”
And Dongmin swears that he at least attempted to hold back his laughter, but it ends up immediately boiling to the surface in a loud chortle. Dongmin covers his mouth, but by the time he does, it’s too late.
“Did you seriously just laugh at that?” Woonhak is saying, a grin plastered across his face.
“No,” Dongmin spits.
“I can’t believe you. All of my other jokes, and you laugh at that.” Woonhak seems overly giddy. “Admit it. You think I’m funny, don’t you?”
“No,” Dongmin repeats.
Woonhak just continues giggling to himself, repeating the words “ridiculous” and “unbelievable” under his breath. Dongmin resists the urge to smile the entire time.
☆
“Dongmin-ah.”
He doesn’t respond, too engrossed in his mid-shift conversation with Sungho.
“Hyung.”
Still nothing.
“…Yellow top. About to become shark bait.”
Dongmin immediately jerks away from Sungho, eyes widening at even the implication of a shark. He quickly surveys the water until he sees it—a little girl in a sunshine yellow tankini, bordering upon the imaginary boundary of safe and unsafe waters. Dongmin’s whistle immediately flies to his mouth, the noise high-pitched and cutting through the chatter of visitors. Dongmin then reaches for the megaphone, all while Woonhak’s eyes trail him like a lost puppy.
“Yellow tankini,” he states, watching as the girl's head whips toward the lifeguard tower. “Please swim to shore and back away from the ropes.” He repeats it twice until she’s finally creeping backwards, and Dongmin watches as she slowly makes her way to an acceptable distance. Only then does he set down the megaphone, heaving a large sigh.
“Jesus Christ,” Sungho gasps. “Should I go back, or—?”
“No, it’s fine,” Dongmin says, voice tinged with annoyance from the incident. “We’re on the more populated side, it happens often.”
“If you say so,” Sungho murmurs, before leaning his back against the sturdy wood of the lifeguard post. “What were we talking about again?”
“I mean…work?”
“Ah! Right. How’s working with the new recruit? What’s his name…ah, Woonco?”
“Woonhak.” At the mention of his coworker, Dongmin glances towards the tower. Woonhak is up against the railing with both forearms lounging over it, sunglasses perched low on his nose as he scans the shoreline. At some point, he’d finally ditched the fanny pack—after enduring an entire week of Dongmin relentlessly teasing him for it—which leaves a lot more of his waist exposed, the faint line of his happy trail disappearing beneath his classic red swim trunks.
And, well…Woonhak isn’t exactly the most ripped, but it’s not like he’s lanky, either. Over the past month, Dongmin has caught himself noticing things that he probably shouldn’t have: the way Woonhak’s biceps tighten whenever he hauls the rescue tube onto his shoulder, the subtle definition that appears on his stomach when he stretches after sitting for too long, the easy strength in every single movement that doesn’t seem forced at all.
Dongmin has noticed a lot more that he’d never admit.
“You’re looking at him again.”
Dongmin doesn’t even bother turning his head to look at Sungho. Too busy tracking Woonhak. “I’m not.”
Sungho follows his line of sight anyways. Woonhak is now crouched at the bottom of the post, by the stairs, and he’s talking to a girl with a bucket full of seashells. He’s somehow managed to balance said rescue tube across his shoulders like a barbell while talking animatedly. Whatever story he’s telling her involves way too many hand gestures, because the little girl is laughing so hard that she nearly drops the bucket.
Sungho lets out a quiet, knowing hum.
“What?” Dongmin asks.
Before Sungho can answer him, the girl's mom starts to call her over.
Dongmin watches as Woonhak notices the mother waving at him. He gives the girl an exaggerated salute before hoisting the rescue tube back into place and walking up the stairs. He takes the first few steps two at a time—
—and immediately catches the edge of one with his foot.
He stumbles hard enough that Dongmin straightens without thinking. Woonhak, though, with fast enough instincts, grabs the railing, steadies himself, and immediately begins glancing around to see if anyone noticed his fall.
And, unfortunately for him, Dongmin just did.
Woonhak spots Dongmin, and they lock eyes from across the post. Without missing a single beat, Woonhak points accusingly at the step, shakes his head once, and continues climbing the stairs as if nothing had happened.
Sungho snorts.
“…See?” Dongmin retorts.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You were about to, though, weren’t you?”
“Well, yeah,” Sungho huffs, watching as Woonhak disappears back onto the platform. “I was gonna say that I get why you like him. But clearly he’s still an idiot, so-“
“He’s not an idiot.”
The words come out before Dongmin can stop them. Sungho slowly turns his head.
Dongmin realizes what he just said and looks away, refusing to make eye contact with Sungho as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I mean…not completely an idiot.”
A small smile starts to pull at Sungho's mouth. “Oh?”
“Don’t make this a thing, seriously, hyung,” Dongmin starts pleading, his voice dropping a couple decibels so as to not distract Woonhak from his patrol.
“No, I’m not…but don’t you think it’s funny?-“
“Stop it.”
“I’m serious, Dongmin-ah. You spend all day complaining about him to me, saying he’s always talking and acting stupid to entertain you. But the second that I try to call him stupid, you rush to his defense. Isn’t that funny?”
Dongmin opens his mouth, ready to form a rebuttal, but nothing comes out. Because, annoyingly, Sungho isn’t completely wrong.
“…I'm not defending him.” Dongmin says eventually.
Sungho raises an eyebrow. “You’re not?”
“No.”
“Seriously.”
“I’m just saying, he’s not..” Dongmin trails off, searching for the right words. He purses his lips before speaking again. “He’s not as bad as he seems.”
Sungho’s smile grows a tad. “That sounds a lot like you’re defending him.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Then what are you trying to say?”
Out of instinct (and in an effort to stall) Dongmin looks back towards the tower, where Woonhak has returned to his spot by the railing. He’s standing there like nothing happened, sunglasses pushed back up his nose, completely unaware that he’s the current topic of conversation.
“He’s actually pretty good at this,” Dongmin admits.
Sungho’s teasing expression fades slightly, replaced with a tinge of curiosity. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Dongmin shrugs, taking a second glance at the tower. “At first, I thought he’d be more…”
There’s a pause. Dongmin kicks the sand between his feet.
“More what?”
“I dunno. More careless, I guess.”
Sungho eyes Woonhak, a playful glint in his eye. “Is it ‘cause of the fanny pack?”
Despite himself, Dongmin grins. “Among other things.”
Sungho laughs.
“But he’s not,” Dongmin continues. “He’s weird, and he does things that are stupid and make zero sense, but he actually takes this seriously.” His eyes drift back up to the tower, where Woonhak is now diligently scanning the water with the same intensity he’s always using, the same focus he always has.
“He’s always messing around, but then he can just—I dunno, spring into action. Like, ten minutes ago, when he called my attention to that girl in the ocean. Without him, I would’ve had no idea that was happening. He just notices. He’s always there when I can't be.”
A small smile tugs at Dongmin’s mouth before he can really stop it.
“Right—and then afterwards, he entertained a little girl, sent her off to her mom and simultaneously fell up the stairs.”
Sungho looks at him for a moment.
Dongmin catches this look, sees the underlying message. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Hyung, what?”
“You just went from complaining about how loud he was to listing all of the reasons why he’s a great person.”
Dongmin immediately breaks eye contact, looking out to the ocean. “I’m not listing reasons.”
“You basically are.”
“I’m just saying.” Dongmin sighs. “He’s still annoying.”
“I know.”
“He talks too much.”
“I know.”
“He’s way too confident for someone who almost fell walking up three stairs.”
Sungho laughs under his breath. “You’re insane.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just stuck on the fact that you were actually defending the guy who wore his lifeguard fanny pack on the first day.”
Dongmin groans. “I already let that go. Can you let that go?”
Sungho takes that silent confession as a win, even if Dongmin doesn’t realize it at the moment. “Absolutely not.”
☆
Woonhak’s first actual save at their beach happens on a Saturday.
Woonhak has already managed to brag all about his previous saves back on the West Coast. According to him, he’s pulled people out of the water in “every situation imaginable,” which Dongmin is pretty sure is an exaggeration considering Woonhak also once claimed he’d “fought for his life” against the morning traffic on the way to work.
But hearing Woonhak’s whistle echo from across the beach is different from hearing Woonhak talk about his old saves. This time, Dongmin gets to watch him do it.
As soon as the sharp noise pierces through the air, Dongmin’s head snaps towards the water. A little further down the beach, a swimmer is waving their arms, struggling against the ocean’s current. It’s not immediately obvious what’s happening, but the panic is clear enough to alert Dongmin’s coworker.
And before Dongmin can even say anything, he notices Woonhak running down the beach.
“God damnit, Woonhak-ah…”
Too late.
For a second, Dongmin can only watch. Because this is just what Woonhak does.
He throws himself into things without any hesitation. He acts before even thinking. He’s confident enough that sometimes Dongmin wonders if he actually understands the danger of his job, or if he’s just clueless enough to acknowledge that it's there.
But then, after swiftly paddling halfway across the ocean, Woonhak finally gets closer to the swimmer. And something changes.
The current catches him.
It’s subtle, at first. Just a shift in his position, the way his body moves slightly farther than it should. But Dongmin notices. He notices because he’s spent the past month and a half watching Woonhak. The way he moves, the way he swims, the way he does absolutely everything with such an innate confidence, like he already knows he’ll succeed in it.
And right now, Woonhak is moving as if he’s fighting the water instead of cutting through it.
“Shit.” The word leaves Dongmin’s mouth before he can even think.
Because normally, protocol says to wait. Protocol says to assess. Protocol says not to rush into a situation that could put another lifeguard at risk.
And Dongmin is about to ignore every single part of it.
By the time Sungho has finally reached his tower, calling his name, Dongmin has already flung himself over the railing and down the steps, sprinting across the sand.
The cold water hits him instantly as he dives in.
“Dongmin!”
He barely hears it.
All he can focus on is Woonhak. Because for once, he doesn’t seem confident, and that’s what’s scaring Dongmin the most.
A few moments later, after what feels like much longer than it actually is, Dongmin reaches him. He expects some kind of joke, a stupid comment, just anything.
Instead, Woonhak only stares at him. His face is pale, his breathing is uneven, and suddenly Dongmin is realizing something that makes his chest tighten.
Woonhak is scared. And that’s something he’d never, ever shown before.
“Hey,” Dongmin grabs onto Woonhak’s arm, forcing himself to keep his voice steady against the current. “Look at me.”
“I’m fine.” Woonhak’s words come too quickly, sound too forced.
Dongmin almost laughs. Not because it’s funny, but because of course Woonhak is still pretending, even when he’s trapped within a riptide in the middle of the ocean. “No you’re not.”
“I am, hyung.”
“Woonhak.” Dongmin grabs his other arm. “Stop fighting the current. You’re making it harder.”
“I know.” Woonhak almost sounds broken, and Dongmin can clearly tell why. Of course Woonhak knows—he was trained for this, after all—he had just panicked. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.
“Don’t apologize right now.” Dongmin doesn’t want an apology. He doesn’t want Woonhak to think that he failed, he just wants Woonhak safe and out of the water. So Dongmin stays with him, talks him through the fear, and eventually guides him back to shore. Dongmin doesn’t let go of Woonhak’s arm until his feet are firmly planted beneath him.
Only then does Dongmin step back and realize what’s been simmering inside of him, how the fear has been slowly churning itself into a grotesque form of anger.
“What were you thinking?”
Woonhak is still breathing heavily, palms planted on his knees, when he turns to look at Dongmin. His eyebrow is cocked like he doesn’t know what Dongmin’s talking about.
“You knew there was a current there.”
“I was trying to get the swimmer?” Woonhak shrugs. “You know…do my job?”
“And by doing so, you quite literally made yourself into another person who needed saving.”
The words end up hitting harder than Dongmin expected. He can hear the venom that drips off of his voice as he speaks, but he doesn’t actually register the intensity until they’ve already left his mouth. He sees Woonhak’s expression change—because he knows that Dongmin is right, but that doesn’t have to mean that Woonhak is wrong.
“You’re one to talk.”
Dongmin freezes. “What?”
Woonhak wipes a hand over his face, still trying to steady his breathing and slow down his heart. “You weren’t exactly thinking either, were you?”
“You know that’s different, Woonhak-ah.”
“How?”
“Because I was helping you.”
“And I was helping a struggling civilian.”
The response comes almost too quickly. Dongmin goes quiet. Woonhak laughs once, but the sound is completely devoid of humor.
“You broke protocol too, you know.”
“I knew what I was doing.”
“So did I.”
“You got caught in a riptide, Woonhak!” Dongmin only sees in retrospect how desperate he sounded, how utterly scared he was for Woonhak.
“And you jumped in after me without even thinking!”
Fuck. Everything Woonhak is saying is true. Dongmin turns away, because for once, he doesn’t have a response. There’s a pause where Woonhak’s anger seems to melt away from his face. They don’t break eye contact, not even once.
“You scared me,” Woonhak says quietly.
Dongmin suppresses a gasp. Meanwhile, Woonhak swallows.
“I know I messed up. I know I should’ve been more careful.” His tone drops. “But hyung, when I saw you jump in after me…”
He stops, but Dongmin understands anyway. The anger slowly drains from his expression.
“I thought you were going to get hurt, Dongmin-hyung.”
The irony isn’t lost on either of them. They’re standing there, soaked and exhausted, after nearly getting themselves into trouble for the exact same reasons. This could become a pretty funny joke later on.
After a while, Dongmin sighs. “Don’t scare me like that again. Please.”
Woonhak laughs. “Was that you being nice to me?”
“Take it with a grain of salt, Woonhak-ah.”
☆
Things begin to intensify quickly after the save, but it’s not exactly in the way that Dongmin expects.
He expects Woonhak to be a little bit embarrassed. Maybe even a little bit quieter around Dongmin for a while, especially after seeing him admit something so vulnerable.
Instead, Woonhak does the opposite.
It’s the small things at first. Woonhak bringing back an extra granola bar during lunch without making a big deal out of it. Woonhak offering up his number to Dongmin, claiming that it can be used for quote-on-quote quick communications. Woonhak showing up at the tower five minutes early (in stark contrast to his first day) because “someone has to make sure you don’t forget sunscreen.”
Dongmin knows that this isn’t the real reason—because Woonhak has always been good at making excuses. But Dongmin doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, their drawled out arguments become less like arguments and more like a routine.
Dongmin complains whenever Woonhak launches into another exaggerated story about his West Coast experiences. Woonhak complains when Dongmin corrects the way he organizes rescue equipment. They bicker over almost everything, but somehow, it never actually feels like fighting anymore.
It feels familiar. Like something they’ve been doing for years instead of a couple weeks.
The strangest thing of all is that Dongmin begins noticing when Woonhak isn’t there.
He catches himself looking towards the parking lot when Woonhak is late. He catches himself saving the better snacks from the main post because Woonhak always complains about the other ones being “bland.” He catches himself glancing towards the tower, just to make sure that Woonhak is doing okay.
And every single time he even acknowledges it, he refuses to think too hard about it.
Because summer is temporary—that’s the one thing he keeps reminding himself about. There’s an end date. Woonhak will only be here until the season ends, and then he’ll go back to the West Coast, go home, back to the life he had before this beach. Back to being someone Dongmin only knows from stories.
So Dongmin tries not to get used to him. He tries not to fall for him.
He fails. Completely.
Because somewhere between that first argument about Woonhak getting lost and the day Woonhak actually admitted he was scared, he stopped feeling like a coworker at all.
He became the person that Dongmin wants to be around constantly, the one he wants to spend his shifts with. Hell, he’s become the person that he wants to see outside of work. Dongmin wants to see him in the real world, wants to see him in the winter, bundled up in a jacket and gloves. Dongmin wants to meet his family and learn his secret quirks and Dongmin wants to kiss him, so incredibly badly that it sometimes hurts to breathe. When he glares at Woonhak for too long, when Woonhak gives him a sarcastic compliment. He wants it all with Woonhak, his good days and his bad days. He wants to help him through the bad days, to see him smile. He wants Woonhak, in every way possible.
And Dongmin hates that he realizes this when there are only a few days left.
☆
The last day of summer arrives quietly. Almost too quietly—it creeps up on Dongmin, and he’s pretty sure that that’s the cruelest part of it all.
After weeks of crowded beaches, screaming kids, a blaring sun, and Woonhak somehow managing to make every shift louder than it needed to be, Dongmin had expected the end to feel different. He had expected some sort of sign, some dramatic warning.
Instead, everything feels oddly normal. Except it isn’t normal, because Woonhak is leaving. Dongmin hates how normal it feels.
The beach ends up closing early that afternoon. The first drops of rain hit unexpectedly, scattered across the sand haphazardly. Within minutes, though, things had suddenly picked up. The waves grew rougher and the clouds began to darken overhead.
The announcement came shortly after over the radio—the beach was closed due to weather conditions. Everyone begins to pack up.
And here’s the thing. Dongmin should be happy. He should be relieved. It’s been a long summer, and he’s about to be rewarded with the fattest paycheck of his life.
Except for the fact that Woonhak is standing a few feet away, stuffing his things into his drawstring bag, and Dongmin can’t stop thinking about the fact that they’ll never see each other again.
“Hyung.”
He looks up.
Woonhak is standing there, holding his bag over his head in a poor attempt to shield himself from the rain that’s already started pouring.
“Are you planning on staying here forever?”
“Huh?”
Woonhak gestures towards the parking lot. “Well, unless you wanna get struck by lightning, I’d recommend moving.”
Dongmin rolls his eyes. For a second, it almost feels normal.
“You’re so annoying.”
“And you’re still walking with me, aren’t you?”
They run down the sand together, laughing when their shoes sink slightly with every step. The rain begins coming down harder, in large torrents, soaking through their clothes almost immediately.
And somehow, this whole thing feels unfair. Because even this is going to be something that he’ll miss. Woonhak laughing from beside him, the sounds of the ocean lingering in the background.
The feeling that, for once, he doesn’t have to try so hard to enjoy himself.
They reach the parking lot, but neither one of them immediately gets into their car—they sort of just stand there, staring at their two minivans parked on opposite sides of the expanse. There’s rain dripping from their hair.
The beach sits completely empty behind them. The summer is ending right in front of them.
“Dongmin.”
Something about the way Woonhak says his name makes him look up—he says it like it hurts, like it’s sitting bitterly at the tip of his tongue. And yet there’s so much affection behind it that it’s sickening to Dongmin.
Woonhak glances down for a moment, like he’s trying to formulate the right words. “I was going to leave here without saying anything.”
“Huh? Why?” Dongmin’s expression shifts.
Woonhak laughs under his breath. It sounds sullen. “Because I’m kind of good at that. At pretending.”
Dongmin doesn’t even know what to say. But Woonhak continues for him. “I kept thinking I would have more time. Like I’d figure it out eventually.”
The rain begins falling harder between them.
“I thought it would be easier if I acted like it wasn’t there.”
Once Woonhak says that, Dongmin’s heart sinks. Because he understands. He’s been doing the same thing.
“I hate that summer's over,” Woonhak admits. The honesty of it catches Dongmin off guard. Woonhak suddenly looks at him, catching his eye fiercely. “I hate that I’m just leaving, and that everything has to go back to whatever normal was.”
Dongmin swallows. “Woonhak-ah—“
“No, let me say it before I convince myself not to.”
There’s a rattling silence. All that can be heard is thunder crackling in the distance and the soft patter of rain against the ground.
Finally, Woonhak speaks again. “I like being here.”
A pause.
“I like being with you.”
And Dongmin doesn’t really know what to do with that. Because Woonhak says it so plainly, so simply, like it’s completely obvious. Like it isn’t the one thing that Dongmin has been avoiding since he remembered that summer has a fucking expiration date.
Rain drips from Woonhak’s hair, down his cheek, and Dongmin hates that he notices. He hates that he notices everything about him.
“I’m gonna miss this place,” Woonhak says quietly, almost to himself. “I know it’s stupid. I know it’s just a summer job.”
Dongmin hates that Woonhak's right. It was only supposed to be temporary, after all—a one summer arrangement before everything returned back to normal. Woonhak would become nothing more than a memory attached to one specific summer.
“I don’t want it to be just a summer job,” Dongmin blurts.
The words come out before he can even think of them. Woonhak looks up and Dongmin’s throat tightens.
“I don’t want to go back to not knowing you.”
For a moment, Woonhak can only just stare at him. Dongmin immediately wants to take it back—because it’s so utterly true that it hurts. It’s the most honest that Dongmin has been all summer.
“I just kept thinking we’d be fine,” Dongmin says. “That everything would be normal.”
Dongmin heaves a sigh, screwing his eyes shut.
“But I don’t want normal anymore.”
When Dongmin opens his eyes, Woonhak’s expression has softened into something more knowing. Dongmin bets that Woonhak knows exactly what he means. And maybe neither of them need to say the rest.
Woonhak steps closer.
Dongmin barely has time to register it before Woonhak kisses him.
The clash of lips is unexpected, but Dongmin receives it particularly well. Their mouths seem to slot together perfectly, and Dongmin’s hand immediately curves its way around Woonhak’s waist and presses their chests together. Woonhak’s palm is deafeningly cold and slick against Dongmin’s cheek from the rain water, but the sensation isn't jaw dropping compared to the sensation of kissing Woonhak.
He tastes like sea salt, rain and cherry chapstick. It’s incredible.
They continue pecking at each other's lips, their foreheads pressed together in the middle of the parking lot. Dongmin feels his hair flatten against his face, but he physically can’t pull himself away from Woonhak’s rain-soaked torso in order to push it back.
When Woonhak eventually pulls away, he almost looks shocked. Like he couldn’t believe that he actually went through with it. Dongmin can’t help the small smile that appears at the thought.
Woonhak laughs quietly. The rain continues to pour in thick sheets, but they both can’t seem to be bothered. They can only stand there, soaking in each other's presence, for a little while longer.
Eventually, though, they snap out of it.
The parking lot is completely empty around them, the beach behind them quieter than Dongmin has ever seen it. There’s no kids running across the sand, no whistles from the towers.
Just the sound of the rain hitting the pavement.
Woonhak takes another small step back, and Dongmin begins to hate the sudden distance in between them. Woonhak gives him a small smile before turning away.
Eventually, Dongmin can’t stand it. He calls out.
“Woonhak!”
Woonhak stops, and for a second, Dongmin doesn’t know why he said it. There’s no carefully planned goodbye waiting in his head. There’s no way to completely explain that Dongmin had somehow fallen head over heels for Woonhak within one singular summer.
So, instead, Dongmin says the only thing that comes to mind.
“Don’t forget to text me.”
Woonhak turns around. And then he smiles. Not the exaggerated one he uses when he’s trying to make someone laugh. Not the one that he puts on when he’s pretending. Just a small, genuine smile.
“I won’t, hyung.”
Dongmin nods, even though he knows that it isn’t enough. It’s not everything he wants to say. It’s not everything he’s going to miss. But for now, it can be enough.
Woonhak begins to walk away once again, and this time, Dongmin lets him.
He watched until the car door closes, until the headlights disappear through the rain, until the parking lot is completely sullen and empty.
Only then does Dongmin let himself turn back to the beach and examine it. Everything is still the same—the towers are still there. The ocean is still there.
But somehow, everything still feels so, so much different.