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Yoo Joonghyuk fishes up a squid by the California coast up north. Except, it’s not exactly a squid. Joonghyuk, marine biologist whose expertise is in squids, spots an odd, floating white shape bobbing along in the shallows, too large for a squid carcass. He wades into the waters for a closer look and finds a man.
Despite his corpse-pale skin, he looks to be too alive to be dead— eyes closed but long, wet lashes shivering from trembling eyelids, even a faint pink on his cheeks. Joonghyuk could mistake him for a fairy or some other ethereal spirit with how serene he looks, even with all the sand on his skin and seaweed strands between his toes. His dark hair floats in the water like ink as Joonghyuk moves them back to shore. It might be the water carrying them along, but his body weighs almost nothing in Joonghyuk's arms.
They’ve just left the last of the seafoam behind, Joonghyuk stepping onto the shore, when the man opens his eyes. Joonghyuk first notices how dark and bright they are, like moonlight reflected on the night sea, and it takes his breath away.
"I'm Kim Dokja,” the man says, his voice as light as the rest of him. "Who are you?"
"Yoo Joonghyuk," he answers.
Kim Dokja looks at him, surprised, and then smiles. It's an all-knowing smile, but also one that radiates an impossible happiness and relief, relief so stunning it takes his breath away.
"I found you,” he says. Then, he passes out.
〜〜〜
Joonghyuk doesn’t know what compels him to do it. He returns home with Kim Dokja, dumps him into the tub, turns the water on, then wipes all the sand and salt off from his body. He sits by the tub, silent in thought, watching the iridescent soap bubbles bloom and pop around the strange man he took home. He wonders if he ever knew a Kim Dokja. He thinks he would’ve remembered if he did.
Kim Dokja had spoken Korean, and it's been years since Joonghyuk has heard it so close to him. He speaks with a dialect that's hard to place, but it's enough to make Joonghyuk's heart ache thinking of his home country.
The California coast is less sunnier than Joonghyuk expected it to be when he had moved here. He had been expecting bright, sandy beaches, not long stretches of highways and fog-shrouded cliffs and a mysterious air that makes everything feel vague and dream-like. It almost reminds him of overcast days back on Ulleungdo.
Kim Dokja sleeps for a day. Joonghyuk continuously checks for his breathing, but the fall and rise of his chest is even, as if he really were just sleeping peacefully.
He's already finished lunch when Kim Dokja stirs, quietly opening his eyes to the bright white light of midday. He looks different cleaned up, waking from rest, his hair and skin soft like all the seasalt had never been there. Looking at him closely, he's an unconventional kind of pretty, with features that seem a little off, wild but strangely beautiful. His eyes which are so large and dark, his waifish figure, all contribute to the delicate allure he gives off.
Kim Dokja finds Joonghyuk's gaze right away. He blinks slow— long lashes up and down— and smiles softly.
Joonghyuk opens his mouth. Can’t remember what he wanted to say, to ask.
"Hello." So Kim Dokja speaks for him. He looks so familiar sitting there nestled in the blankets like he's woken up in the same bed all his life. "You grew up well."
"Do I know you?"
"In the past you did."
"I'm sorry if I don't remember." He continues staring at Dokja, trying to place him somewhere in his heart.
Dokja lays back against the pillows again. "Thank you for saving me this time," he says sincerely. Then, "I'm a bit tired." He closes his eyes. "Will you tell me a story? Any story."
Joonghyuk thinks. No one has ever asked such a strange request of him before. But then again, he's never found anyone naked and floating in the ocean. After a silence where the rise and fall of Dokja's chest evens out, he finally begins his story.
〜〜〜
On Ulleungdo, a small island off the Korean peninsula, an orphan grows up by the sea. No one knows where he comes from, and for a while, of his very existence, but the child somehow knows. He is Yoo Joonghyuk, born on the third of August.
The only thing he remembers from his childhood is perhaps a dream. The sky is overcast, and the seawater is cold when Joonghyuk dips his toes in. But he wades in— and wakes up on the sand.
He sees a face above him, blurry indistinct features, but he makes out two large, dark eyes. Then there comes the sound of singing, gentle and soothing, and he lets this voice wash over him until he drifts off once more.
This time when he wakes up, Joonghyuk finds a crowd of people around him.
The fishermen at the harbor take him in, and Joonghyuk spends his teenage years in fishing boats and harbors. But the ahjussis tell him to study hard, and he does— and when the acceptance letter comes in the mail they all gather together to send him off to Seoul.
University life unearths a new kind of revelation, and Joonghyuk drops his marine biology degree for a career in esports. The crowds, the fans, the speed of it all doesn’t overwhelm him. It’s when they travel to a tournament in Busan, when the glittering sea comes to view from the bus window and he’s faced with that neverending blue.
He quits his gaming career and returns to his hometown, his island with the layered rocks and green brush. Unemployed, he goes back to the fishing boats, where the ahjussis are now older than ever, and it's an easy, simple life— until a researcher by the name Namgung Minyoung finds him. He resumes his studies under her mentorship, and gets involved with squids.
Somehow Joonghyuk ends up across the Pacific in Monterey, California, moving into an old cabin off Highway 1. The little house sits on acres of wild land, a distance away from the city where he works, but it’s the cheapest he could find.
It's a lonely life, but he doesn't mind it. His name has long faded into obscurity. Humankind has short memory, and Joonghyuk’s heart stays with no one. He likes the sea better. It always makes him feel wistful, like he’s missing something. But he thinks perhaps he’ll find what he’s missing in the great blue depths someday.
〜〜〜
Over breakfast, Kim Dokja asks if he can stay. Joonghyuk tells him to eat his eggs. In hindsight, he'd already decided long ago.
Joonghyuk has never been as curious about someone as he is about Kim Dokja. Perhaps it's the loneliness, how Dokja seems to temper it. The soft murmur of another person's voice in the house, the movement and noises he brings to the space.
At first he could barely walk, weak, thin legs that would tremble to hold any weight. After a few days it becomes hard to hear his footsteps, so light are they. Dokja seems to float when he moves; Graceful, every step deliberate, his arms and hands airy when he gestures.
He keeps to himself, oddly delighted by doing so. On some occasions Joonghyuk catches him dancing in the kitchen when he thinks no one is looking, swaying and spinning on the tiled floor, with such tender, careful feet. He hums a little tune as he twirls, his voice like honey. Never more than a few notes, a few indecipherable words. But there's something about Dokja’s voice that makes Joonghyuk want to set down everything and listen.
Today he sits outside on the porch that overlooks the sea. On the tea table is a small bowl of seaweed soup, and Joonghyuk stands at the doorway in horror watching Dokja idly dump salt into it. After Dokja’s twentieth shake of the saltshaker, he can’t take it anymore and confiscates the salt.
Dokja gulps down his soup and Joonghyuk can't tell if he's mad— he's always smiling at him— and Dokja leaves. It must be his typical morning walk along the cliffside, but Joonghyuk follows him, wondering if he has offended Dokja somehow by taking the salt away from him, why he cares so much about this odd man, how Dokja probably doesn't care much about anything anyway.
The morning mist clings to Dokja like a veil, heavy and silver-like, blurring everything but his raven black hair, bobbing in the fog as he moves further within.
"Kim Dokja," he calls out.
Dokja returns, smiling sweetly. Joonghyuk knows nothing about him. He lets Dokja link their arms together. He clumsily pushes the saltshaker into Dokja's hand.
Dokja laughs at him and rests his head on Joonghyuk's shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world.
〜〜〜
He starts riding with Joonghyuk to Monterey every morning, early at dawn, when fog settles over the sea and cliffs and chills the air with a fresh dampness, the roads silent and stretching bare for tens of miles.
Dokja likes to roll the windows down and stick his head out the side, feeling the whip of the wind, running his hand through it too.
Joonghyuk snaps at him. "It's dangerous. Watch your head. You could injure yourself."
Kim Dokja just laughs in reply, voice almost lost in the wind. His eyes are closed and his mouth is still open in mirth, smiling as he leans his head, still out the window. "It feels like the sea," he says.
〜〜〜
It hardly rains, even with the perpetually overcast skies and rolling fogs. But when it does, it doesn't surprise anyone. They were all waiting, they suppose. Everything turns a shade of grey darker. Dokja sits outside in the rain, breathing it in. The water trickles down his face, dripping from his hair, his chin.
"You'll get sick," Joonghyuk tells him, watching him from the doorway. He soon joins him anyway. They stand there together under the rain in silence as the world around them shrouds them in noise, in storm.
〜〜〜
Joonghyuk drops him off at a gas station, the same one every day, and Dokja waves goodbye, every day. Then Joonghyuk drives to the research institute, and spends the day buried in research. In the evening, he'll return to the gas station where Dokja is waiting, and pick him up for the return drive back together.
Joonghyuk gets off late one evening, dusk already fallen and the colors of the sunset a darkening smear on the horizon. When he stops by the usual street, Kim Dokja isn’t there. Joonghyuk waits. He roams the streets. He searches on foot, walking until his feet ache. He drives everywhere around town, feeling insane, up and down the slopes by the harbor, past the aquarium over and over as the night crowd gathers in the streets— until the arrow has dipped too low on his fuel gauge and he's forced to return to the gas station. Eventually he calms down, finds some semblance of rationality, and drives back.
The drive home is dark and lonesome. Empty passenger seat, no Kim Dokja sleeping beside him. In the far distance, a warm yellow dot glows persistently. Joonghyuk blinks. The lights are on in the house. And as he pulls into the driveway, his heart beats faster, some dormant hope in his chest that he never dared to nurture somehow coming alive.
When he walks in, heart pounding in his throat, Kim Dokja is sitting on the couch reading a book. Looking perfectly normal, unharmed, already in his periwinkle pajamas. His knees to his chest, ankles crossed, hair soft as ever.
Yoo Joonghyuk is fucking furious. Doesn’t even question how Dokja got here hours ago. He storms over crossing the length of the room in three quick strides, and looms over a surprised Kim Dokja for two seconds before he grabs him by the front of his shirt and kisses him.
This lasts for a minute. Joonghyuk looks at Kim Dokja.
His eyes are wide, the color of water.
"I didn't think you would care so much," Dokja murmurs against Joonghyuk’s lips. His voice comes out even, light.
"You," Joonghyuk hisses. “Fool. Kim Dokja.” He wonders if this all doesn't matter to Dokja, and he’s made some grave mistake.
Joonghyuk then realizes Dokja is shaking. Dokja kisses him back fiercely, clumsily, more passionately than he could've ever hoped.
Kim Dokja presses closer, desperately. “I have nothing but you. You know that right?”
Joonghyuk pushes him down on the couch. The book in Dokja's hand is tossed to the side, all stories forgotten except this one.
Kim Dokja looks up at him breathless, his face soft and vulnerable, before he buries his face in Joonghyuk's shirt. He tries averting his gaze, but keeps failing and glancing back at Joonghyuk's face.
They migrate to the bedroom, and it feels like what they make was always meant for just the two of them, as if every choice has led them to this moment, this person in front of them and no one else.
Joonghyuk runs his hand along Dokja’s pale legs, and Doka gasps and shivers.
Dokja cries when Joonghyuk enters him, but no noises of distress. Just tears in his large, ocean-deep eyes, pulling him closer. Joonghyuk has a strange thought as he fucks into Dokja, the rhythm of it, in and out, is so much like the ebb and flow of the tides, the constant crashing of the surf.
Dokja arcs and curls into him like waves, clings to him like seafoam. Wherever Joonghyuk drags his tongue he tastes traces of salt. He feels like a storm, and Joonghyuk knows he'll forever keep chasing.
〜〜〜
Kim Dokja stands in the sea with the water past his knees lapping around his thighs, stripping bare and letting the clothes fall into the water. His back is to Joonghyuk, and how it looks in the light— his skin, the line of his spine and the curve of his ass, carved from pearl and marble, as he slips into the ocean water.
〜〜〜
Joonghyuk pauses from where he's above Dokja. The white underside of Dokja's thighs bared to him tremble. Dokja whimpers, eyes squeezed shut. Joonghyuk still doesn't move, and Dokja opens an eye to find Joonghyuk staring at him, and he's startled by something wet and glistening on Joonghyuk's cheek.
Joonghyuk closes his eyes and the tears fall— he leans his forehead, pushes further into Dokja, feels Dokja's small frame shake and when he kisses Dokja he's crying now too and they're both sobbing.
Dokja's voice shakes, shudders as hard as the rest of him. He wraps his arms around Joonghyuk's wide, wide shoulders with his squid-like grip. "It still hurts. It still hurts the same."
Joonghyuk chokes up further. "Am I hurting you?"
Dokja shakes his head from where it's pressed against Joonghyuk's shoulder. "M-nm. It's not— my heart hurts. It hurts so much." He looks up suddenly, face tear-stained pink, eyes bright and teary with distress. "Why are you crying?" He wipes a tear from Joonghyuk's cheek, not minding his own.
"I don't know," he says, voice unsteady.
〜〜〜
On weekends they take walks on the rock-strewn shore by the house, where any sand is still coarse, as if the waves had only recently started working away at it. Kim Dokja makes his way across the beach barefoot.
"You'll hurt your feet," Joonghyuk warns him.
"It's okay, it doesn't hurt." Kim Dokja picks his way through the rocks, sometimes stepping on a few loose ones, wobbling his way precariously across. He stumbles to his knees once, and Joonghyuk rushes over to his side.
"No cuts," Dokja says, showing Joonghyuk his unharmed ankle. Joonghyuk sighs and throws an arm around Dokja's thin shoulders, dipping down to loop his other elbow around Dokja's knees, picking him up.
"Yah! Yoo Joonghyuk!"
He runs across the surf with Kim Dokja in his arms, Kim Dokja whose surprise has turned into laughter, across all the sharp rocks, all the sand that sinks under his feet, and doesn’t feel a thing.
〜〜〜
Sometimes Joonghyuk's not sure if Kim Dokja is entirely real. The Kim Dokja he knows can't cook. He can't drive, and all his natural grace seems to leave him whenever he picks up the Swiffer sweeper. He likes waking up early, just before sunrise, but once the sun is up he'll go back to bed and fall asleep again. He likes reaching out to Joonghyuk and grasping any part of him he can— a sleeve, a hand, the back of his shirt. He'll eat anything but tomatoes.
Sometimes he feels so far away, in those moments he's not looking at Joonghyuk, but instead staring out into the ocean. Homesick, longing, with a wistfulness that twists his mouth, his eyes the most melancholy shade of blue-grey.
In turn, Joonghyuk keeps looking at Dokja like he's going to lose him, like he already has. Even if it isn't real, he doesn't want this to ever disappear.
He chokes up for a minute, watching him now. Dokja is turned away from him, laying on his side, shirt rucked up his back and the blankets a tangle around his legs. On the adjacent wall glows bars of light, from where the sun has seeped from the half-open shutters, lining Dokja's bare skin with golden stripes. And all of a sudden, Joonghyuk's throat constricts, and he can't breathe, through all the grief, through all the sudden, unexplainable sadness.
〜〜〜
He has a dream where everything is strangely blue and dim. Dokja’s voice calls out to him from afar, echoed and distorted. When he finally sees Dokja, he’s glowing like a star in the dark, and his hair floats. His hand reaches out to Joonghyuk in a flurry of bubbles, and Joonghyuk realizes they’re underwater. He takes a breath and starts choking, sinking down into the depths as he struggles. At the last moment, he feels arms around him, his head falling onto someone’s chest— a voice again, Dokja’s— Shh, you’re safe. I found you this time.
Let me tell you a story.
〜〜〜
Long ago, in a place where no humans can reach except in death, where light and life was thought to not exist, there remains a white castle of pearl and coral and seaflower. Its inhabitants had indeed long fled to other waters, but one was left behind in the abandoned castle. This was the little mermaid. He was not the most beautiful of his kin, but certainly the loneliest, most forgotten.
For years nothing changes but the weaving of fish in and out the ruins and the light that would filter through in flashes and hues of green and blue. He grows curious of the world above, the faint light that disappears and reappears and turns the water into lovely colors.
The first he sees of the world above are the moon and stars, the moonlight melting into the waves, the stars so small and beautiful the mermaid finds himself reaching out his hand to pick one of them off the sky. He lets the waves carry him as he stares at the sky. For a long time, this is all he sees until the glowing shape of a ship appears in the distance.
The little mermaid swims closer, drawn by the music and voices on this warmly-lit vessel. He swims close enough to see the humans dancing, those two legs so nimbly moving, bodies twirling in ways the little mermaid could never imagine. By far the brightest, most handsome among them is a young man with dark hair, and the little mermaid knows from the first moment he set his eyes on him that he was a prince.
He is more beautiful than anything the mermaid has ever seen, those bright, black eyes and the sharp angles of his jaw, how handsome the sweep of his brows and the curve of his lips are.
Unnoticed by everyone, human and mermaid alike, the stars vanish, shrouded by layers of dark, heavy clouds.
As the storm descends, the ship is hijacked by assassins on board sent to kill the prince. In the end, the prince is not killed by the assassins, but tumbles off the side of the ship. The ship soon capsizes in the waves regardless, disappearing into a dark, towering arc, sending everyone on board into the merciless depths of the sea.
The prince does not drown. As his body sinks, the little mermaid finds him. He’s heavy, strongly built, but a mermaid’s tail is powerful and the mermaid swims the both of them up to the surface where the human can breathe. They ride the waves, the little mermaid holding the prince tightly through the storm.
The waves carry them to shore, onto the sand. By then it is daybreak and the sea is as smooth as glass.
Even so close to death, the prince is handsome. His hair curls so charmingly on his forehead that it takes the mermaid’s breath away, and he's still taken when the prince's beautiful black eyes open and fix upon him. In wonder, the mermaid doesn’t move, until the prince stirs further. Startled, the mermaid dips under the water, leaving nothing but the slightest splash.
As he returns to his abandoned home, he begins to regret leaving so soon. He seeks out the sea witch, who is said to grant any wish, at a price.
The sea witch looks like a mermaid, with her pale skin and short, flowing black hair, a dark mark by her sharp eyes. But when she comes out from the darkness of her cave, grumbling, the little mermaid notices she has eight octopus arms from the waist down.
“I wish to be human,” the little mermaid tells her.
"It's not possible," she says.
“I know. Nothing in the world exists for a mermaid," he replies. "Even so, can I be selfish just this once?"
“You are in love," the witch sighs knowingly. "Very well. You cannot be human, but I can turn your fish's tail into two legs. I can grant this wish, but a wish requires a sacrifice.”
The little mermaid washes up by the shore of the prince's palace with his two legs. Every step feels like knives stabbing into his soft feet. He cannot speak and cannot be seen by humans.
He sends his prince, Yoo Joonghyuk, what he can. An antidote for poison, a knife, other things to save his life. Over time, like clothing worn thin, the magic on the mermaid fades. He bears the pain. His voice returns.
"Yoo Joonghyuk. Do you want to be king?"
The mermaid is surprised when Joonghyuk says no. He had initially thought power as something that all humans desired. But Joonghyuk quickly changes his mind. Strength is necessary to protect his own people. And in order to protect all he wants to protect, he must become king.
He becomes Joonghyuk’s greatest confidant, advisor, companion. He has a tongue that can fell empires. Only a few years later, Yoo Joonghyuk has won the bloody struggle and sits upon the throne. He has everything he’s ever wanted.
“Salvation. Are you there?” Joonghyuk asks, eyes closed. He knows the answer already, even in the seemingly empty throne room, the only sound the distant crash of waves from the sea behind the windows framing his throne. His mysterious companion’s presence has always been a given.
“What do you need?” the little mermaid asks softly.
“There’s nothing I want that I can have. Because of you. You’ve saved me time and time again, haven’t you?"
He begs to see the little mermaid. It's a cruel request.
Mermaids cannot cry. But the little mermaid finds the sea witch’s magic allows him to, but even this is so many times more painful than it would be for a human.
He shatters. Joonghyuk still can't see him, but even this, Joonghyuk's hand stroking his hair, feels like tearing the limits of the witch's magic. But Joonghyuk's touch is like a salve for the incomprehensible pain, mercy so holy and brief that the mermaid brings the hand to his cheek and sobs.
Joonghyuk cradles his face in his large, scarred hand.
“I have everything, but you.”
The sea is blue behind them. Joonghyuk feels the mermaid’s small face, his soft jaw and delicate chin, the tears that tumble down his fingers. He leans in and licks away the cold wetness from the mermaid’s cheeks. They taste of the sea.
Three days later, the king disappears. The little mermaid, still shattered from the agony of allowing a touch from his loved one, returns to the sea too late to find Joonghyuk.
This time, he can’t save him.
The little mermaid wanders the world for many centuries and lifetimes. The pain in his legs has faded to a dull ache, but without the one he loves, staying in the world of humankind is no longer worth anything.
“So this is what love ends in,” the sea witch says, when she finds the little mermaid.
"A mermaid's life is not worth so much," he says. "But I am asking for another wish."
The sea witch looks at him sadly. "You will have to sacrifice everything. But the time you have together is so very little."
"It will be enough. It will be."
〜〜〜
It’s a quiet day, too quiet, not even the occasional car passing by on the highway. The sky is all blue, so blue it looks like a filtered photograph. There’s the barest layer of haze on the horizon, blurring the line between ocean and sky like the soft smudging of colors on an oil painting. Dokja pushes the car door open when they come to a stop and swings his long legs over the side of the car seat; he’s wearing those loose shorts that come up mid-thigh and drive Joonghyuk a little insane.
When the car door closes shut, the sound almost echoes in the empty air. Dokja teases Joonghyuk about his crooked parking job. They walk along the path at the edge of the cliff together. At this time, the mustard flowers are popping up in sprays of bright yellow along the cliffside.
Dokja stops and turns his head to face the endless ocean as if he’s heard something. He’s swallowed up the blue, so small and faraway even though he’s right in front of Joonghyuk. The world starts to bend around them, spinning and spinning until it’s just the two of them and the ocean is all they can see.
〜〜〜
Kim Dokja is sleeping again. Past noon, no less, the sunlight straight on his face, catching on his eyelashes. He stretches, languid like a cat, and nuzzles into Joonghyuk's side.
“I’ll see you again someday, Joonghyuk-ah," he murmurs against Joonghyuk's shirt. "Wait for me, will you?”
“Kim Dokja?” Joonghyuk sits up. “Kim Dokja. What do you mean?”
Dokja looks at Yoo Joonghyuk. How easy it is to be here. Yoo Joonghyuk, his arms still scarred, not from swords and malice but from a fishing hook, still so human, so perfect. In this golden moment, finally overlapping with Dokja and his own scarred, aching heart. How easy does time slip past. Dokja smiles. For a moment, everything in the world exists for him.
〜〜〜
The coast returns to its moody state just a few days later, the fog and clouds sweeping in again in the morning dusk. It's blue and too early when they wake up, and the fog is so thick nothing can be seen a few meters away, the solid ground beneath their feet giving way to blind illusion.
By dawn the fog has faded the sky into pale eggshell blue. Below the horizon-line, the sea is still blanketed with it, the clouds rosy and gold with the new light of dawn. Dokja and Joonghyuk stand there side by side, and watch the ever-changing mist moving over the cliffs and sea.
The winds turn and the sea of clouds clear for a moment. In that space, the choppy ocean surface is revealed, the waves crashing into the rock like they have for millennia. Kim Dokja steps to the edge like he always does, and Joonghyuk, afterwards, does not remember if he ever looks back this time.
Kim Dokja falls back into the water past the rocks. There's the flash of something, like a tail, the color of the clear turquoise shallows, the deep, the sunlight off the surface all at once, and then nothing. Joonghyuk runs to the edge of the water.
All that is left in the wake of the waves is a scattering of seafoam.