Ship/Member: Minghao/Soonyoung Major tags: N/A Additional tags: Perf team as the coast guard maybe, Shared ambition as a love language Permission to remix: Yes *** Minghao thought he knew how to swim well enough, until Soonyoung threw him into the open water.
He wasn’t quite like the others when he started, hoping to float on a combination of bravado and desperation alone. Still, he chafed a bit at the brightly colored thing that Junhui held out when he stepped up to the ledge that first time.
“I’m alright.” The plastic buckle scraped along the tile as Junhui lowered his arm. And he was, limbs whipping through the water in a flurry, so quick it was hard to track him until he resurfaced. At the other end of the pool, Soonyoung watched the younger boy towel off with a thoughtful expression.
The first time Minghao saw the ocean, he thought that the whole world was meant to be underwater. The vastness of it seemed poised to overtake every dry thing, sand and sky alike. He would’ve given in. Out there, submerged under an infinite, unbroken expanse – that was where he wanted to be.
“It’s not right.” Soonyoung grabbed Minghao’s wrist, guiding him through the motion. “Like this – cleaner.” He bent Minghao’s arm at an unnatural angle, but the other boy didn’t protest; instead, he committed the discomfort to memory, the twinge in his forearm when he repeated the gesture an indication that he was doing it properly.
The first time Minghao saw a storm up close, it felt like he was inside his own heart. He got out of bed and went to the window to watch the waves rip across the dock, the steady roar of deep water in the distance as loud as the raindrops ricocheting off the roof of their dingy dormitory on the shore.
“Scared?”
A gust of wind shredded through a flag hanging off of a boat anchored in the shallows, white and red strips fluttering stark and pitiful. He bit his lip.
“But?”
Minghao turned to look at the boy standing next to him. His eyes were bright, focused, tracking across the sea like he was watching a play unfold on stage.
“But?”
Soonyoung tore his eyes off of the water and met Minghao’s gaze. “But.” He knocked a knuckle against Minghao’s chest, right at his breastbone. “There’s always a but. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Minghao hesitated, trying to wrangle his thoughts into words. Soonyoung nodded affirmatively.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he walked away from the window. “We’ll be out there soon enough.”
Soonyoung didn’t know that Minghao knew. He was a light sleeper, and the bunk beds were cheap. Any motion on the bottom mattress reverberated all the way to the top. He never dared to lean over the side of the frame when he heard Soonyoung get up – only after he heard the front door close quietly would Minghao scamper down the ladder and press his face against the window. The sight of the sail unfurling in the middle of the night seemed to him the closest he’d ever come to believing in angels. He tried often to stay up until Soonyoung returned to land, like the subject of an ancient prophecy. Many mornings it was Junhui nudging him awake with a slippered foot, handing him a cup of tea instead of asking what he was doing on the bedroom floor.
//
“Waters are rough,” Soonyoung says from the cabin as they hit the open waters and the shore finally recedes from view. He grins. “It’s a good day.”
Minghao’s letting out the slack when Junhui reaches over and unbuckles the life vest hanging loosely around his shoulders. He glances over at the older boy, who just shrugs and goes back to studying the day’s report.
“Minghao,” Soonyoung calls from the edge of the boat. He loops the rope around the cleat and tugs twice for good measure before walking over to their captain, who puts a strong hand on his back. “How ya feeling today?”
“Alright.” Minghao tries to assess Soonyoung’s energy. He puts on a calm face for the rest of them, but it’s hard to hide the way he comes alive when they’re out at sea, his heart matching the rhythm of the boat rocking on the choppy waters. “I had –”
He doesn't get to finish the sentence. Minghao’s arms are wrenched backwards as Soonyoung pulls his life vest off. Before he can react, a hand hits him squarely in between the shoulderblades, and he feels himself – falling.
Even when he’s pitching into the middle of the ocean, Minghao has the wherewithal not to scream in front of the others. He plunges into the water with his mouth closed, a stream of bubbles expelling from his nose as he fights the urge to gasp, eyes screwed tightly shut against the brine. He can tell that he’s hurtling quickly, deep already – the water is cold, cold. He tries to orient himself, remember how many times he somersaulted on the way down. Blood rushes to his head. His fingers tingle. It’s cold.
When you hit the water, your body responds immediately by decreasing your heart rate to slow the use of oxygen. Blood is diverted away from the limbs and towards the vital organs, filling the cells to balance out the external pressure. In other words, the body is focused on how to keep you alive while you’re submerged. The brain is what fights to reach the surface.
Training kicks in as his momentum slows, and Minghao picks a direction, long legs propelling him forward. After a few seconds of moving through the water he starts to fear that he’s actually going deeper, that's he's in so much shock he can’t tell up from down. He tries to get any indication – the heat of the distant sun against his skin, the sound of the waves – but each moment feels exactly like the last one, except for the ever-increasing pressure inside his chest. He’s about to open his eyes, bracing himself for the sting of salt, when he realizes that the waters are getting choppier, knocking against his outstretched hand, pushing him sideways as he swims. He’s close.
The first thing Minghao does when he breaks through the surface is breathe. The second thing he does is open his eyes, and the sight of Kwon Soonyoung's face hits him at the same time as that first lungful of air. He's in the water, half a meter away, blonde hair like a beacon, treading easily with an orange life vest on and a buoy in his right hand.
Soonyoung watches as Minghao gasps, blinking the stars out of his vision. Watches as his frantic limbs slow, as his body readjusts to the weight of living. “Come on,” he says after a few moments, turning back to the boat. Minghao swims after him, the buoy left bobbing in the waves.
Over dinner, he thinks he catches Junhui staring at him across the table.
“What,” Minghao mumbles self-consciously, reaching for another piece of kimbap. Junhui just shrugs. Chan glances between the two of them but keeps his silence.
It’s not until they’re alone afterwards, cleaning up the kitchen, that the older boy says offhandedly, “I grew up in a landlocked state.”
“Oh.” Minghao hadn't known this. He scrubs at the pot with the coarse side of the sponge, wondering if Junhui is going to say something else. Part of him expects to bat away a compliment, and when that doesn’t come, an apology, but instead they finish the dishes together in silence.
The ocean gets rougher as the night goes on. Soonyoung’s sitting by the window, eyes gleaming, as they all crawl into their beds. Minghao falls asleep to the sound of roaring water and wakes to his bed shaking at the corners.
When Soonyoung turns around to close the front door gently he’s greeted by the sight of Minghao standing in the foyer in a rain jacket, his shoes already on. Soonyoung grins.
“Alright then,” he says, holding the door open.
“Don’t you think,” Soonyoung says, raising his voice slightly as he steers the boat, “sometimes, that we were each meant for very different seas?”
In the darkness, the sea and the sky are almost indistinguishable. Minghao keeps an eye on the sails, making sure they’re not stretched too thin. When Soonyoung stops the boat, he drops the anchor and turns on the spotlight, aiming it at the churning waters.
Soonyoung takes off his sweatshirt and shoes, stepping up to the edge of the vessel.
“Minghao,” he calls back, almost an afterthought. “Just… I mean, don’t —“
“I know,” Minghao says.
He doesn’t need to ask why. There’s an intimacy in the witness; in watching an outstretched hand grasp at nothing. In knowing what someone looks like when every part of them is fighting for survival. And when he thinks about that feeling, of being swallowed up by the water without even an echo of the world he’d left behind — Soonyoung’s right. It’s why they’re all here.
The ocean roars.
Soonyoung jumps.
Minghao watches.
*** A/n: really sorry about the lack of Chan in this one T-T title is from Wave!
[FILL] All your cells want freedom
Major tags: N/A
Additional tags: Perf team as the coast guard maybe, Shared ambition as a love language
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Minghao thought he knew how to swim well enough, until Soonyoung threw him into the open water.
He wasn’t quite like the others when he started, hoping to float on a combination of bravado and desperation alone. Still, he chafed a bit at the brightly colored thing that Junhui held out when he stepped up to the ledge that first time.
“I’m alright.” The plastic buckle scraped along the tile as Junhui lowered his arm. And he was, limbs whipping through the water in a flurry, so quick it was hard to track him until he resurfaced. At the other end of the pool, Soonyoung watched the younger boy towel off with a thoughtful expression.
The first time Minghao saw the ocean, he thought that the whole world was meant to be underwater. The vastness of it seemed poised to overtake every dry thing, sand and sky alike. He would’ve given in. Out there, submerged under an infinite, unbroken expanse – that was where he wanted to be.
“It’s not right.” Soonyoung grabbed Minghao’s wrist, guiding him through the motion. “Like this – cleaner.” He bent Minghao’s arm at an unnatural angle, but the other boy didn’t protest; instead, he committed the discomfort to memory, the twinge in his forearm when he repeated the gesture an indication that he was doing it properly.
The first time Minghao saw a storm up close, it felt like he was inside his own heart. He got out of bed and went to the window to watch the waves rip across the dock, the steady roar of deep water in the distance as loud as the raindrops ricocheting off the roof of their dingy dormitory on the shore.
“Scared?”
A gust of wind shredded through a flag hanging off of a boat anchored in the shallows, white and red strips fluttering stark and pitiful. He bit his lip.
“But?”
Minghao turned to look at the boy standing next to him. His eyes were bright, focused, tracking across the sea like he was watching a play unfold on stage.
“But?”
Soonyoung tore his eyes off of the water and met Minghao’s gaze. “But.” He knocked a knuckle against Minghao’s chest, right at his breastbone. “There’s always a but. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Minghao hesitated, trying to wrangle his thoughts into words. Soonyoung nodded affirmatively.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he walked away from the window. “We’ll be out there soon enough.”
Soonyoung didn’t know that Minghao knew. He was a light sleeper, and the bunk beds were cheap. Any motion on the bottom mattress reverberated all the way to the top. He never dared to lean over the side of the frame when he heard Soonyoung get up – only after he heard the front door close quietly would Minghao scamper down the ladder and press his face against the window. The sight of the sail unfurling in the middle of the night seemed to him the closest he’d ever come to believing in angels. He tried often to stay up until Soonyoung returned to land, like the subject of an ancient prophecy. Many mornings it was Junhui nudging him awake with a slippered foot, handing him a cup of tea instead of asking what he was doing on the bedroom floor.
//
“Waters are rough,” Soonyoung says from the cabin as they hit the open waters and the shore finally recedes from view. He grins. “It’s a good day.”
Minghao’s letting out the slack when Junhui reaches over and unbuckles the life vest hanging loosely around his shoulders. He glances over at the older boy, who just shrugs and goes back to studying the day’s report.
“Minghao,” Soonyoung calls from the edge of the boat. He loops the rope around the cleat and tugs twice for good measure before walking over to their captain, who puts a strong hand on his back. “How ya feeling today?”
“Alright.” Minghao tries to assess Soonyoung’s energy. He puts on a calm face for the rest of them, but it’s hard to hide the way he comes alive when they’re out at sea, his heart matching the rhythm of the boat rocking on the choppy waters. “I had –”
He doesn't get to finish the sentence. Minghao’s arms are wrenched backwards as Soonyoung pulls his life vest off. Before he can react, a hand hits him squarely in between the shoulderblades, and he feels himself – falling.
Even when he’s pitching into the middle of the ocean, Minghao has the wherewithal not to scream in front of the others. He plunges into the water with his mouth closed, a stream of bubbles expelling from his nose as he fights the urge to gasp, eyes screwed tightly shut against the brine. He can tell that he’s hurtling quickly, deep already – the water is cold, cold. He tries to orient himself, remember how many times he somersaulted on the way down. Blood rushes to his head. His fingers tingle. It’s cold.
When you hit the water, your body responds immediately by decreasing your heart rate to slow the use of oxygen. Blood is diverted away from the limbs and towards the vital organs, filling the cells to balance out the external pressure. In other words, the body is focused on how to keep you alive while you’re submerged. The brain is what fights to reach the surface.
Training kicks in as his momentum slows, and Minghao picks a direction, long legs propelling him forward. After a few seconds of moving through the water he starts to fear that he’s actually going deeper, that's he's in so much shock he can’t tell up from down. He tries to get any indication – the heat of the distant sun against his skin, the sound of the waves – but each moment feels exactly like the last one, except for the ever-increasing pressure inside his chest. He’s about to open his eyes, bracing himself for the sting of salt, when he realizes that the waters are getting choppier, knocking against his outstretched hand, pushing him sideways as he swims. He’s close.
The first thing Minghao does when he breaks through the surface is breathe. The second thing he does is open his eyes, and the sight of Kwon Soonyoung's face hits him at the same time as that first lungful of air. He's in the water, half a meter away, blonde hair like a beacon, treading easily with an orange life vest on and a buoy in his right hand.
Soonyoung watches as Minghao gasps, blinking the stars out of his vision. Watches as his frantic limbs slow, as his body readjusts to the weight of living. “Come on,” he says after a few moments, turning back to the boat. Minghao swims after him, the buoy left bobbing in the waves.
Over dinner, he thinks he catches Junhui staring at him across the table.
“What,” Minghao mumbles self-consciously, reaching for another piece of kimbap. Junhui just shrugs. Chan glances between the two of them but keeps his silence.
It’s not until they’re alone afterwards, cleaning up the kitchen, that the older boy says offhandedly, “I grew up in a landlocked state.”
“Oh.” Minghao hadn't known this. He scrubs at the pot with the coarse side of the sponge, wondering if Junhui is going to say something else. Part of him expects to bat away a compliment, and when that doesn’t come, an apology, but instead they finish the dishes together in silence.
The ocean gets rougher as the night goes on. Soonyoung’s sitting by the window, eyes gleaming, as they all crawl into their beds. Minghao falls asleep to the sound of roaring water and wakes to his bed shaking at the corners.
When Soonyoung turns around to close the front door gently he’s greeted by the sight of Minghao standing in the foyer in a rain jacket, his shoes already on. Soonyoung grins.
“Alright then,” he says, holding the door open.
“Don’t you think,” Soonyoung says, raising his voice slightly as he steers the boat, “sometimes, that we were each meant for very different seas?”
In the darkness, the sea and the sky are almost indistinguishable. Minghao keeps an eye on the sails, making sure they’re not stretched too thin. When Soonyoung stops the boat, he drops the anchor and turns on the spotlight, aiming it at the churning waters.
Soonyoung takes off his sweatshirt and shoes, stepping up to the edge of the vessel.
“Minghao,” he calls back, almost an afterthought. “Just… I mean, don’t —“
“I know,” Minghao says.
He doesn’t need to ask why. There’s an intimacy in the witness; in watching an outstretched hand grasp at nothing. In knowing what someone looks like when every part of them is fighting for survival. And when he thinks about that feeling, of being swallowed up by the water without even an echo of the world he’d left behind — Soonyoung’s right. It’s why they’re all here.
The ocean roars.
Soonyoung jumps.
Minghao watches.
***
A/n: really sorry about the lack of Chan in this one T-T title is from Wave!