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gukyi · 6 years

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fairytail | pjm

⇒ summary: you have a particular disdain for the beach. jimin is here to change that. oh! and he’s also a merman. so there’s that, too.

⇒ merman au with beauty and the beast inspired elements

⇒ word count: 19k

⇒ genre: fluff and a little angst, but just a smidge!

⇒ warnings: minor alcohol consumption and disgusting human boys

⇒ a/n: finally, out of my slump! my exams are over now so i can get back on my writing game for the summer, so get ready! as for now, here’s a little pre comeback gift for all of you, featuring the au i have been desperate to write for a while now.

[!] also, this fic is a beast so i 1) recommend reading it in your browser if you’re on mobile and 2) i am sorry that the keep reading feature is trash and that you have to scroll through this whole ass thing. i really am.

The second you step foot on the beach, you can already foresee yourself spending thirty minutes under the community-provided shower at the edge of the beach, washing sand from your bellybutton and other various places sand should not be.

The only reason you’re here, really, is because you scored a great deal on your lodging. And by a ‘great deal’, you mean getting to camp out in your absurdly affluent roommate’s family’s private beach house, located a good several blocks away from the clusters of cookie-cutter beach houses that stand on the edge of the shore. No, their house is in a gated little area with only two other houses that reside so far away that they can’t even be considered surroundings. It’s got a great view, a heated pool (which you don’t understand, because you’re right on a beach, but okay), and it’s all yours for the next month.

There’s just this one minor, unimportant caveat.

You hate the beach.

So it’s only natural that your roommate and sole best friend would decide to sacrifice her vacation time to try and convince you that sticky heat, incessant sand, and angry pelicans are worth your while. How noble of her.

“You’re being overdramatic,” she says as she breezes by you, already kicking off her flip-flops as her toes meet the sand. “Just because you’ve lived in a goddamn city your whole life—”

“I like it in cities,” you hiss in response, taking a hesitant step forward. You nearly topple over when you feel your foot sink into the sand, sighing as you lean over to tug off your sandals. You suppose it’s just easier to accept the sand for what it is rather than trying to avoid it. It’s sort of like the Black Plague in the 1300’s: unavoidable and unstoppable. “There’s no sand.”

“Sand shmand.” She rolls her eyes, grabbing hold of your left hand and tugging you towards the water. You’re in the more populous area of the beach, a twenty minute walk from the house, and the shouts of children as their sandcastles get washed away pierce your eardrums. “If you’re going to try and spend your entire life avoiding sand you may as well just go and live in Antarctica.”

“Thanks for that reassurance, Lisa,” you deadpan.

“Come on, we still have to unpack so we don’t have to stay here for very long. Just get our feet wet. Maybe our ankles, too,” she suggests, except it’s not a choice because she’s already darting towards the sea, eager to feel the ocean against her skin. You technically have the option of leaving right then and there, or even just staying back and letting her have her fun, but she’s the only person you know here and thus makes her the only person you feel safe around. So, out of fear of being socially lost, you follow. Lisa’s evil like that; she knows that even if you hate the beach, you’ll stay out of obligation. It’s all part of her big plan to brainwash you into liking the shore as much as she does.

Slowly, the sand starts to turn into something a little less malleable as you get closer to the ocean. You join Lisa at the edge of the water, keeping a firm grip on your sandals to make sure they don’t get wet and sandy from the tide. Every few seconds, the water will wash ashore before the sky pulls it back, making Lisa exclaim in excitement whenever she feels the warm water brush against her skin.

For a brief second, it’s nice. Enjoyable, actually, that relaxing feeling of coolness fading in and out as a soft breeze brushes through the strands of your hair. You close your eyes. Maybe if your entire beach experience was just this and nothing else, you’d actually find yourself quite keen on returning.

And then something slimy brushes up against your ankle, making you jump right out of your skin. Thank God you don’t actually scream, or Lisa would never let you live that down, but you nearly implode as you open your eyes in a fright. Below you is a lonely strand of wet, slimy seaweed. Lisa’s a few feet away, hunting for shells on the shallow ocean floor, her back turned towards you. While she’s not looking, you take the liberty of peeling the green from your skin and tossing it back into the ocean, hoping it doesn’t make your acquaintance again.

“Ay, look what I found!” Lisa says as she runs back over to you. In her palm is a dainty little shell, one of those twisted ones that look like the ice cream cones you have to pay extra for. “It’s so rare to find a full shell these days because all of the demon parents snatch them up for their demon children.”

“Got some grudges you’ve held?”

“Just a few. I’m a little salted, but it’s nothing the sea can’t handle. Ha!” Lisa barks. “Get it? Salted? The sea? Oh God, I wear myself out. Hey, let’s go back, alright? My parents would flip if they knew we left the house unlocked with valuables inside.” She nudges your shoulder and you sigh in relief at the suggestion. Nothing sounds more enticing right now than a couch. And some nice Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing on the television.

You nod in agreement, and the two of you begin to make your way towards the little washing-off stations. One of them is currently occupied by a family of seven, the mother demanding for her children to stay still so that way she can spray the sand from their backs and their hands and their shins as the father dries off the ones who are all cleaned up. You and Lisa direct your attention to the other one, where one of the showerheads remains unused for the two of you to nab. Lisa takes approximately five seconds to carelessly spray the soles of her feet before slipping on her flip-flops, wet from the moisture. In contrast, you spend five minutes meticulously trying to get any trace of beach from your skin, cleaning with conviction as you feel around for any stray sand.

“Oh my God, you take fuckin’ forever,” Lisa groans before gasping, a palm over her mouth. “Fuck, I gotta stop swearing. Shit!”

You roll your eyes, finally deciding that enough is enough as you pull on your sandals. Maybe you’ll never be completely rid of the sand that litters your body, but you suppose that that’s your reality for the next month, so you better get used to it.

You happily walk back to the house, letting Lisa talk your ear off about how it took her blood, sweat, and tears to convince her parents to let her have the beach house for as long as the two of you do because they think she’s reckless. Which, quite frankly, you understand. Lisa has a track record of not making the most reasonable decisions despite her good intentions. Like when she nearly burned the kitchen down after thinking that making a whole ass steak—with the only prior cooking experience being instant ramen—to impress a date would be a good idea, or when she broke the living room window after a bird had accidentally gotten itself trapped inside your apartment. Lots of it has to do with property damage, which is exactly why you can probably guess why her parents were hesitant on letting her have free reign over their expensive beach house. There are probably lots of things inside that can be broken or burned.

She also brings up this party that her parents are forcing her to attend in their place because they’re off “vacationing in the Swiss Alps, or whatever”. She makes sure to include the air quotes. The party’s nearby, anyway, barely a two minute walk from the house at a little private pier right on the beach. Something about her parent’s rich business partners trying to extend an olive branch towards their family after fucking them over a few years back. Lisa’s making you come with her so that way she doesn’t suffocate in the inflated egos.

“It’s tomorrow, don’t forget,” Lisa says as she waves hello to the security guard that protects your gated community. “We just have to get that out of the way and then we can spend the rest of the month having fun and not doing my parents’ dirty work! God, I don’t even know why they’re making me fuckin’ go, like, they fucked us over and we hate them now, this isn’t going to change anything just because they’re sending their nineteen-year-old daughter and her best friend to some dumb party. Ugh!”

She rants on and on and you just listen, knowing better than to try and interrupt. It’ll just send her on another tangent. Lisa’s always been the talker between the two of you.

“And we have to dress really nice to show them that my family is still very wealthy and that we can afford to dress nice even if they cost us a shit ton of cash back in the olden days. Honestly,” she says as she tugs open the glass door to the house. You happily kick off your shoes once you’re inside, collapsing on the couch with a sigh of pleasure. Even though Lisa isn’t right next to you anymore, she keeps going as she gets a soda from the fridge. “Even if you look expensive, it’s fine. People think that only wealthy people in wealthy clothes can look expensive, but that’s fake as hell. Besides, Gucci clothes are so ugly. Like, who would want to wear this gaudy bright green dress with a snake down the front and a really gross pattern? Not me. The only rule of fashion is that if you wear clothes that fit you and feel confident, you’ll look like a million bucks. Rich people don’t understand that. So tomorrow, don’t tell people that you got your dress from some plebeian mall store. Only tell rich people where your clothes are from if they’re from rich people places. Speaking of which! My mom gave me a list of things to pick up for her in the nice part of town. We’ll have to go one of these days. She needs a new necklace from Tiffany’s, and she placed an order for some shoes from Louis Vuitton a while back that we gotta pick up…”

Lisa keeps going but you feel yourself drifting off, tired after a long day of travelling and beaching. Your eyes flutter shut as Lisa starts complaining about how her parents waste so much money on such ugly clothing.

You feel like a fish out of water.

Maybe your hair’s done and your makeup looks flawless and you’re wearing a prom -esque long, baby pink pleated dress that straps over one shoulder and heels that are definitely going to give you blisters by the end of the night, but it’s like the people here know that you’re out of place. You come from a family that—gasp!—doesn’t make eight figures a year and you know you’ll spend the next twenty years paying off your overpriced college debt, and these people can see that in your eyes, in your hesitance. You stick as close to Lisa as possible and speak very little, letting her do all the talking as she mindlessly greets all of these nameless business people with beautiful wives and expensive wristwatches.

Easily, the two of you are the youngest attendees. There are some men around your age, probably only one or two years older at most, sons of the CEOs and Presidents and heirs to their family’s fortunes.

That one scene in Mean Girls, the one where Janis Ian and Damian Does He Even Have A Last Name are dragging Cady through the hallway as Damian screams, “New meat coming through!”, is sort of how you feel now. Like Lisa is Damian and Janis combined into one eclectic, fabulously wealthy but down-to-earth teenage girl and you are Cady, scared shitless.

It’s apparent that Lisa has been trapped in a conversation with some CEO of some corporation, his wife, and their attractive but probably disgusting twenty-year-old son for the past ten minutes. You can tell from the way she sends you desperate looks as she nods enthusiastically as the CEO drones on about some deal she doesn’t care about. You can do absolutely nothing but drink champagne and offer her your moral support.

“What are you studying in college right now, Lisa?” The father asks.

“Business law and ethics,” Lisa responds. It rolls right off of her tongue, which surprises you because Lisa’s majoring in Psychology and minoring in Theatre. It must be such a commonly asked question amongst her parents’ business partners that the lie comes easily to her. “I’m thinking of being a lawyer, but my parents want to me to take over their company.”

“Well, you still have a few years before you need to make a decision, of course. Maybe your husband can run the business while you become a lawyer,” the father suggests. You can feel Lisa rolling her eyes, even if she isn’t actually doing it visibly. “Our son here, Brad, is interested in Business law as well.”

Lisa gives you this look, one that says “these people have been trying to set me up with their son for the past five years”, and you smile softly at her, helpless.

“What about your friend?” Brad asks, motioning to you. His voice is deep and a little scary. His hair looks soft but is probably matted down with a thick layer of gel. He looks like a stereotypical football player who probably only attends a good school because his parents can pay for it, and more. “What are you majoring in, Miss…?”

“Y/N,” you say sharply. “And chemistry.”

“Sounds demanding,” Brad comments mindlessly, looking you up and down. You like him less and less with every minute.

“Yes, it’s a lot of work, but I enjoy it. I’m quite good at it, also,” you boast. Normally, you would never brag about your skills, but seeing as rich people brag just by existing, you suppose you can make some exceptions to your moral code for tonight.

“Pretty and smart,” Brad says, and you think he thinks it’s a compliment. “Tell me, how do you know Lisa?”

You preferred it when the conversation was about stocks. “We’re roommates.”

“Oh,” the mother says, intrigued. She’s got this airy, fake voice to her. “Did your parents know each other?”

“No,” you say curtly. You’re debating as to whether or not to scare them off by saying you were raised on a farm in the middle of the country, or something. Something that will frighten them away.

“Are you here alone tonight, Miss Y/N?” Brad asks, his voice getting a little huskier every time he opens his mouth and says something ridiculous.

“I’m with Lisa,” you tell him, wrapping your hand around her wrist as a signal for “please get me the fuck out of this conversation”.

Brad chuckles. “I mean, are you here with a man? Surely, a girl as pretty as you would have a man looking after her.”

You force a smile. There are so many things that Brad finds appealing about himself that you do not. Like his sexist microaggressions. And his slicked-back hair. And his face. They all combine to make one very repelling man.

Hopefully Lisa can sense your desperate urge to bop, bop, bop right out of this conversation before Brad decides that maybe his hands are better than his mouth when attempting to flirt. Nothing more terrifying than when a boy decides that physical contact is better than verbal exchanges.

As per usual, she saves the day. “Y/N, I just started my period,” she says loudly, slapping a heavy hand down on your shoulder with a smile. “Please accompany me to the bathroom so that way I can resolve this menstrual situation.”

Brad and his parents look absolutely horrified at Lisa’s outburst. You suppose it’s very unbecoming of a rich girl like herself to be so brazen, but that’s Lisa. At least her parents aren’t here; they’d probably skin her alive if they knew what declaration she just made at a fancy party like this one.

You smile awkwardly as Lisa guides you away without even a proper goodbye. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding in.

“Ugh,” Lisa mutters. “Fuckin’ Brad. I hate that kid. He’s always been such an ass, even when we were like… fifteen. Like, how much bigger can your ego get?”

“Now I know why you didn’t want to come,” you tell her.

Lisa nods because this is her reality. “Yeah. Can’t tell you how many times parents have tried to get me to date their rich, hot sons. Also can’t tell you how many times said rich, hot sons have hit on me, with little success. If only they knew the truth…”

“That you’re a Psychology and Theatre major lesbian with a very, very sad crush on this beautiful girl in your Freud class who, I’m telling you, definitely likes you back?”

“Stop saying that! She does not! She’s Zeus from Hercules… and I’m not even Hades. I’m like, that centaur that Meg was fighting that got knocked out by Pegasus. The ugly one.”

“Would you calm down? I’m telling you, she likes you. You just need to muster up the courage to ask her out to the mini golf course like you wanted to,” you say, encouraging her with a pat on her shoulder.

Lisa sighs. She’s always been very oblivious to this kind of stuff. “You’re off the hook for the rest of the night, if you’d like. You should go down to the cove, it’s peaceful and quiet and you’ll like it. You can see the stars really well, too. Barely a five minute walk. Don’t worry if your dress gets dirty, I can send it off to dry cleaning tomorrow. I’ll cover for you.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look like you’re having much fun either,” you ask.

“Yeah, but I know how to fake it. You, on the other hand, are a disaster waiting to happen,” Lisa says fondly. “Go. I’ll meet you at the house after.”

You thank her for, if nothing else, the killer champagne and really tasty hors d’oeuvres. Lisa waves goodbye as she blends in seamlessly with the rest of the affluent people that surround her, putting on her fakest smile as she gets absorbed into another boring conversation.

You don’t know exactly which cove Lisa is talking about, but you suppose it can’t be that far away. You pull off your heels and let your feet sink into the sand, cool against your skin from the pleasant atmosphere of the night. Soon enough, you stumble upon a little area away from the spread of the public beach, hidden by rocks and stones with only a small wooden bridge leading to it. It’s quaint, a small little thing that could barely even be considered a cove if not for the aura that surrounds it.

The stars gleam above. You take a seat on a rock right at the edge of the water, gazing up into the sky. Lisa was right; it’s beautiful here. The soft breeze that wafts through the night tickles your bare skin and flows through your dress, and here, you feel like nothing could get to you. Not even Fuckin’ Brad, as Lisa referred to him as. Walking in here, taking it all in, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

You’re so busy staring up at the stars, watching them twinkle above your head, that you barely notice the sound of the waves splashing. Slowly, you turn your head down to look at the sprawling ocean, covering the horizon for as far as the eye can see. You dismiss the sound instantly, thinking it’s probably some nocturnal fish or even just the tide.

It happens again. Only this time you can see a glint of silver in the water. You squint, unable to see much in this darkness. Racking your brain, you can’t think of any nocturnal silver fish that have a habit of jumping out of the water like this.

Another splash. At this point, you’re just plain intrigued, slowly finding yourself getting off of the rock and wading into the water. The ends of your dress are soaked but Lisa said that she could send it out to be cleaned so you’re not that worried about. Still squinting, you move closer and closer towards the source of the splash.

Maybe you’re just mad. Maybe it’s just been a long day of dealing with stuck-up people and this is your method of coping. Seeking out some sort of answer in what is probably just a fish, or something.

And then you see him.

You see the whole top half of his head, really. He’s wading mostly below the water, only thing exposed is a head of bright red hair and deep brown eyes. Not even his damn nose.

“Oh my… Jesus Christ!” You gasp in shock, a hand going to your heart. “What the hell are you doing in the water so late at night, Mister?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Fine, don’t answer me,” you say, retreating back to your rock. “Sorry if I interrupted your skinny dipping session, or something. Just trying to decompress.” You climb back onto the stone, grabbing the fabric of your dress in your hands and wringing it out in the sea. You know it probably won’t dry out much here, but you’ll try your hardest to make the job easier later.

Admittedly, it’s a little more awkward now that you know there is some hidden stranger wading in the water only several meters away, but if they don’t say anything, you won’t either.

When the feeling of his watchful eyes gets to be a little too unsettling, you make to get up and head home, hoping that the party is over and that Lisa is on her way back as well. Your dress is still damp and your feet are still sore from your heels, but at least you’ve got a warm bed waiting for you back at the house.

“Alright, well…” You say awkwardly, “I’m gonna go now. Leave you in peace. Uh, goodbye, I guess?”

The boy doesn’t respond, just keeps watching you with keen eyes, and you send a small wave as you start to head out. Then you hear another splash. Turning your head, you can’t see the boy anymore, but you do catch another glimpse of silver, glinting in the moonlight. Barely, just barely, you make out a tail. A silver tail, and no boy, and suddenly both have disappeared beneath the waves.

You think you’re insane. Tired from the long day, you shake your head, thinking that your mind’s probably deceiving you. Parties really get to you, sometimes. With a final look at the now peaceful waves, you start to head back.

“Hey Lisa?” You ask the next morning, still scratching your head from the night before. You spent the entire time back home rewatching The Little Mermaid and analyzing the logistics of the entire thing. First of all, you don’t understand why Ariel didn’t just fucking write down that she was mute, because it could have saved everyone lots of trouble. Second of all, you don’t understand why Eric, as cute as he was, couldn’t, for the life of him, remember Ariel’s damn face.

“Yeah?” Lisa asks with a mouthful of Cheerios.

“Do merpeople exist?” You ask. You sound ridiculous. As if you, of all people, believe in merpeople. Christ.

“Why on Earth would you ask me that?” Lisa says in response. “I can barely remember the parts of the brain.”

“No, I’m serious,” you say. “Do you think they’re real? Or just like… kid things?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re real. I don’t necessarily know how it would be biologically possible, but after all, we’ve only explored five percent of the ocean. For all we know, they could. Why?”

“Never mind. I think Fuckin’ Brad made me go crazy, or something. I’m not thinking straight,” you say, shrugging it off. You shake your head furiously, needing some air. “I’m gonna go down to the cove. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Suit yourself, mate. I need to start tanning now so that way when we get back it looks natural and not like I just turned myself into an Oompa-Loompa. Like those white girls. Do you think they know that they look like that? Or do their mirrors just lie to them as well?” Lisa asks, making you laugh. She starts to shove a bunch of various items into a tote bag, including some SPF 100+ sunscreen, a book you know she won’t read, and a dad visor. “Catch you later!”

Lisa’s out the door in the flash, leaving you to fumble for yourself. You decide to take another trip down to the cove, clear your mind and hopefully convince yourself that you’re not losing it instead.

When you reach the little bridge, you hesitantly cross it, praying to any and all of the higher powers in this world that maybe, just maybe, you were seeing things. That would be nice. To put it simply, he sort of felt like a figment of your imagination, that boy. He didn’t say anything and you could barely catch a glimpse of his face, just his eyes and that mop of bright red hair. And whatever that gleam of silver was. Oh God, you think you’re getting a headache.

Sighing, you camp out on that rock again, whipping out your phone and praying that this little cove has good reception. Just some alone time would be wonderful. Exactly what you were looking for last night.

You can’t think of a scenario where a strange boy floating in the water at nine at night would make sense. The more you think about it, the more surreal it feels, like you just dreamt the entire thing and that he isn’t real. Merpeople aren’t real. They aren’t, you’re just going mad or something, they’re not—

“You’re back.”

The voice nearly scares you right off of the rock.

“What the fu— Who are you?” You ask, eyes wide at the sight of him. He’s here again, that bright red hair is unmistakable.

“You came here last night, didn’t you?” He asks, braver this time. You can see his whole face, even the top of his torso. He’s gorgeous.

“Y-Yes,” you say, alarmed at how many syllables he’s getting out in comparison to last night. “You were— You are—”

“Why did you come back?” He asks, refusing to stop to answer your own questions. Damn, he’s insistent. You think you preferred him when he was silent.

“I— To look for you,” you say, stunned speechless. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jimin,” the boy says. He hasn’t moved since you first saw him, still hidden below the ocean. “Who are you?”

“Y/N…” You say, trailing off. You can’t think of what else to ask him. This is easily the most bizarre experience you’ve ever had. “What— Who— Are you a merman?”

Jimin chuckles, warm and hearty. With every laugh, his hair bounces. It’s a little jarring, really, the fact that it’s completely dry. “You catch on quickly.”

“So you are!” You exclaim, eyes wide. “Oh, thank God, I thought I was mad,” you sigh in relief, a hand over your heart as your shoulders relax. “Really. You scared the living shit out of me last night.”

“You were scared? Humans never come to this area of the beach, I thought you were hunting me down,” Jimin admits shyly.

“Hunting you down? Why on Earth would I do that?” You ask.

“I’m up here a lot.”

“I have a feeling you’re not supposed to be,” you deduce, and Jimin nods guiltily.

“My friends would kill me if they knew I was up here, talking to a pretty human girl like you.”

You smile awkwardly at his compliment. He thinks you’re pretty? Well, you think he’s stunning. Sort of ethereal looking, like he’s almost too good to be true.

Jimin’s swum a little closer now, but not close enough. You want to see him fully, for who he is.

“I’m touched that you would die for me,” you joke.

Jimin laughs again, and it’s music to your ears. God, he’s getting more perfect by the minute.

“Why were you here last night?” Jimin asks inquisitively, swimming closer. Under the water, you can see his silver tail glistening in the sun as it reflects through the waves. You knew you weren’t seeing things. It’s true. He’s true, he’s real, he’s here.

“Escaping,” you heave out. “My friend Lisa invited me to this terrible party, it was filled so many stuck-up rich people, and—and there was this boy that was hitting on me.”

“Was he cute?”

“Sort of, in this gross, stereotypical kind of way.”

“I don’t really understand what you mean,” Jimin says.

“He was the kind of cute that would make him, oh, I don’t know, Instagram famous or something.”

“What’s Instagram?” Jimin asks, eyes lighting up. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Shit, I don’t know how to explain it. Wait, let me show you,” you say, fumbling for your phone. Even though Jimin’s slowly been moving closer, he’s still far away, a few feet at the minimum. You reach your hand out in front of you. “Come on.”

Jimin looks hesitant at your invitation, but follows nonetheless, swimming closer before joining you right below the rock, where there’s a dip in the sea floor that allows him to keep swimming in place. You turn on your phone and his mouth drops open in excitement.

“What is this magical device?” Jimin asks, amazed.

“It’s my phone,” you say, endeared at his curiosity. He’s sort of like a child, in that youthful glow kind of way, a whole world out there for him to discover. “I use it to call people. And access the Internet. And use Instagram, of course, which is what I’m gonna show you, hold up.”

You quickly swipe across your screen, pulling up the app, much to Jimin’s wonder. It seems as though he has a million burning questions on the tip of his tongue. “It’s this app where people can post photos and other people can see them and like and comment on them. And so this boy I was telling you about…” You quickly search for his page, knowing that Lisa will have regrettably followed him out of obligation. “Here. This is him.”

“He’s awfully ugly,” Jimin says to you with little remorse, making you bark out in laughter.

“And his personality isn’t much better,” you say, sighing. Oh, he could have done so well, if he had just kept his mouth shut.

“I take it you didn’t take to his affection for you,” Jimin notes.

You shake your head furiously. “Oh, God no. I don’t hate myself that much. Besides, if I had, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“And are you thankful for that, Y/N?” Jimin asks, soft smile on his face.

You grin in response. Jimin is gorgeous, this superhuman of a person. It almost feels like a dream, really, when you look at him. Like it’s impossible for this to be real. But he is. He is real and warm and bright and here, in front of you. There is something so truly charming about him, about the way this sense of wonder reflects in his eyes. “Yes,” you tell him. “Very much so.”

The rest of the day you waste away in the little cove, chowing down on the box of Frosted Flakes you brought as your only subsistence. It was half empty to begin with, so by midday you’re scraping away at the bottom of the box, praying that Tony the Tiger will magically appear and refill your stock.

Jimin asks for some at one, point, holding out a damp hand as you pour some into his palm. He doesn’t really know what to do with the pile of cereal in front of him, that is, until he watches you snarf down a large chunk of it right from the box, chugging it like vodka.

“Just shove it in your mouth, man,” you tell him. “Maybe you merpeople are all proper and things, but here on land we care little for etiquette.”

“Clearly,” Jimin comments to himself as he plucks a single piece and pops it into his mouth.

“Hey!” You gasp, nudging him lightly. His skin is soft to the touch, and not pruny at all despite the fact that he literally lives in the water. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jimin says to himself. “I am merely recognizing the barbaric manner in which you eat this… uh… what do you call this?”

With a mouthful of sugar and corn flakes, you respond, “Cereal.”

“Cereal,” Jimin finishes. He takes another piece hesitantly and eats it.

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” you say, frowning when you try to dump out more Frosted Flakes from the box but are met with nothing but crumbs. You sigh, shoving the cardboard back into your bag to recycle for later. “Cereal isn’t meant to be eaten dry. People have it with milk, except there are true heathens out there that pour the milk before the cereal. Like, who does that? You waste a shit ton of milk and the cereal gets all soggy. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.”

“Milk? Like… from—” Jimin motions down to his chest.

“Oh my God, no! No, no, not at all. Milk from cows. And soybeans. And sometimes almonds, but I don’t really know how that works because I don’t think almonds have milk in them. Wow, you guys really miss out on a lot,” you exclaim.

“We eat exclusively sea flora and fauna. My diet consists of mostly seaweed. It has lots of nutrients crucial to the proper development of a merperson,” Jimin says.

“But don’t you think that maybe the fish you guys eat have feelings? Like, what if they’re sad when you eat them?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jimin shrugs. “That’s as if you asked a carnivore if they feel bad for eating the meat they kill.”

“You mean, you can’t speak with the fish?” You ask, mind blown. It’s almost as if The Little Mermaid is a fictional tale with almost nothing rooted in reality and therefore lacking in any sort of sensical nature. Wow!

Jimin frowns, disappointed at your stereotyping. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no. Merpeople do not communicate with their food.”

“My entire life is a lie,” you say, shocked.

Jimin laughs.

Just then, your phone buzzes beside you, the vibration making your ears perk up like a dog after hearing the word ‘squirrel’. It’s Lisa, and she’s demanding to know where you are because the local dry cleaning place closes in fifteen minutes and if you don’t get your dress cleaned now you probably won’t until the end of your vacation when you inevitably remember two hours before you have to leave. You are not nearly as forgetful as Lisa is, but you understand where she’s coming from. You’d rather get this thing cleaned now than later.

“Oh shit, I gotta blast,” you say, quickly shooting a reply of “comin” to Lisa as you scramble to get up. “I can bring some more food tomorrow, if you want. What do you want to try? Pickles? Lays potato chips? Some caloric hamburgers from McDonald’s?”

Jimin looks almost taken aback at your enthusiastic offer, like he’s surprised that you want to do something for him.

“You wish to see me again?” He asks, looking a bit shocked and a bit touched. Like he didn’t expect that you’d want to come back.

“What do you mean?” You ask inquisitively. “Of course I do.”

Jimin smiles, pink lips curving upwards in a soft grin that makes your heart flutter only the slightest. Merman charm, you chalk it up to. “Well then, something healthy, please.”

“God, you’re just like my mom,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I’ll see if I can bring some granola bars or something. Maybe oranges, since they’re in season right now and also really underrated. See you tomorrow, Jimin?” You ask, hopeful even though you know he’ll be there anyway.

Jimin nods. He looks down at the remaining cereal in his palm, and with a deep breath, dumps the entire handful into his mouth at once. With his mouth filled with Frosted Flakes, he musters out a “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You smile to yourself. Maybe this vacation won’t be as bad as you thought it would be.

“Are there oranges in this place?” You ask as you ransack the kitchen, searching in every cabinet and cupboard on the hunt for the fruit. Lisa’s camped out on the couch, half-paying attention to the K-drama she’s streaming and half-online shopping from these obscure, indie stores that no one’s ever heard of. Lisa’s always had quite eclectic fashion.

“If there’s none in the bowl of stale fruit on the counter then we don’t have any,” Lisa says from her position, slouched amongst the cushions as if she’s method-acting as one of them. “Why?”

“Uh… got a sudden craving for that sweet, sweet citrus, I guess,” you fib. “Where’s the closest grocery store?”

“You’d do better going to the market downtown,” Lisa advises, like a local helping out some poor tourist with directions to Venice Beach. “The fruit is fresh there and the vendors are happy to give you a good deal on them. Unlike Whole Foods.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna head out for the day. Probably go to the beach, or something.”

“The beach?” Lisa asks, shooting up to stare you in the face. She’s got this wild, puzzled look on her face. “Why the fuck are you going to the beach?”

“Am I not allowed to, or—?”

“You hate the beach, man. Always have,” Lisa says pointedly, like she’s reminding you of what you declared to her four days ago on your journey here. “What gives?”

“I—You’ve just managed to convince me, I guess,” you shrug, hoping she can’t see right through your terrible cover-up. You don’t exactly know how easily you can put “I met a beautiful and kindhearted merman in the cove and now every day I am going to go see him and talk to him about the human world and bring him weird things like our phones and sunscreen and The Little Mermaid keychains” without having Lisa lose her damn mind.

Lisa looks skeptical but shrugs, sinking back down to blend in with the couch cushions as she pulls her glasses back onto her face so she can watch her K-drama. You’d probably spend the day sitting alongside her if not for the extenuating circumstances.

“Don’t get too lost in the market,” she advises, a sly grin on her face when you turn back to face her, halfway out the door. “There’s this one guy who’s going to try to sell you something that definitely appropriates various marginalized cultures. Don’t fall for it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say in return, already pulling up your phone and raising the brightness so Google Maps can lead you towards your destination.

When you reach the market, you pass by various stalls that all appropriate a certain culture in its own uniquely offensive manner. Avoiding the men standing behind them, you approach the stall with the little old lady, one decked out in baskets of fruit. You nearly go for the cantaloupes instead, but you are here for one reason and one reason only.

“Two oranges, please,” you say kindly, already pulling out your wallet as the lady plucks the ripest oranges from the rightmost basket.

“Healthy, huh?”

You dart your head to the side, only to be greeted by a rather unpleasant image of Brad in a Hawaiian shirt and board shorts, looking like a real golf dad. He’s even got these terribly ugly sunglasses on, just to top the whole outfit off.

“Surprised, or something?” You ask with an unamused expression, pulling out a ten dollar bill. Brad doesn’t seem to pick up on the fact that you don’t really want to be within a one hundred mile radius of him.

“Here, let me,” Brad says, making to get his own wallet out and be whatever kind of gentleman he thinks he’s being. You don’t have much experience with gentlemanly actions but you have a strong feeling that being a creep who randomly pays for women’s random grocery shopping is probably not on the list. Just a hunch, though.

“No, it’s fine,” you say, visibly unnerved. It looks like the old lady at the booth takes pity on you, and accepts your bill before Brad can say anything about it. She winks at you as you sigh.

“Well, let me treat you to something else at this little marketplace,” Brad suggests, boasting that shiny silver credit card in his hand. “I’ll buy you anything you want.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you say, desperately trying to worm your way out of the situation. Brad doesn’t make any sort of physical contact with you, thank God, but he does have this annoying habit of being by your side when you are very obviously trying to leave his company.

“You sure? Pretty girl like you should have nice things,” Brad asks.

“I have plenty of wonderful things already, thanks,” you say awkwardly. The air that surrounds you is tense, palpable. Oh my God, you just want to get down to the cove and lament your woes to someone who will listen, aka Jimin.

“We could go to the higher end part of town. I’ll buy you a nice bag.”

You hate to be the bearer of bad news, but women typically aren’t so shallow that a purse will win over their affection. “Actually, I really should be going now, I still have lots of other errands to run, you know—”

It’s the perfect chance for you to escape from his clutches, barely even offering a goodbye as you skirt off into the crowd and hope that you’ve lost him. God, why do men do that thing? What’s it called again? Exist?

Looking behind you as you speed-walk towards the cove, there is no twenty-year-old blond male in salmon colored board shorts wearing ugly sunglasses following you, much to your relief.

By the time you reach the cove, Jimin’s already there, looking bored out of his mind as he inspects something in his hands. As you move closer, you see that it’s a teapot.

“Hey,” you say, interrupting his thoughts.

“Oh, you came,” Jimin says, delighted. “I didn’t know if you would be able to make it.”

“I promised that I would,” you tell him, settling down on the rock. Your hand fishes through your bag filled with all this junk, like old receipts and expired lip gloss, until you pluck out the oranges. “Here. Try one.”

“What is this?” Jimin asks, enchanted.

“An orange.”

“Because it’s orange?” Jimin guesses.

“Yes, we humans aren’t very good at coming up with creative names.”

“Noted,” Jimin says, rolling the fruit around in his hand. He opens his mouth, about to take a bite, when you shout.

“Oh my God! Oh, oh no, not like that,” you exclaim, reaching over to stop him before he just shoves the entire thing in his mouth. “You don’t eat the skin. You peel it.”

“How?”

“Like this,” you say, holding your own hands out. You start to peel the orange, pulling off the skin like it’s second nature until what’s left are just the slices. Jimin stares at your nimble fingers in awe the entire time, watching you intently. “Now you try,” you say.

Jimin hardly makes a dent in the orange, making you roll your eyes fondly.

“Here,” you say, leaning over to cup his hands in your own. He gazes into your eyes at the touch, brown irises glinting in the sun, its rays highlighting the caramel in them. You feel yourself grinning awkwardly and blame the way that your cheeks heat up on the summer heat. Slowly, you teach him how to peel the orange himself, bit by bit until you’ve got a matching pair of peeled oranges in front of you.

“Cheers,” you say, holding your orange out.

“Cheers,” he replies, clinking oranges before taking a juicy bite of his own.

Admittedly, not really the way most people eat oranges, but you suppose that learning is a process. Besides, he’s cute, the way he bites into the citrus with both of his eyes squeezed shut like a child wincing at the taste of a lemon. You watch, occasionally bubbling over into giggles as you pop slice by slice into your mouth. Jimin finishes the orange far before you do, but that’s alright, because it simply allows time for more questions.

“So, tell me, human, what is the purpose of this object?” Jimin asks, holding up the rusted old teapot.

“Human?” You ask, mock offended. “I thought we were on a first-name basis.”

“My apologies,” Jimin says, bowing melodramatically, “Y/N.”

“It’s a teapot,” you say, plucking it from his hands and inspecting it yourself. It looks to be over one hundred years old. This could probably earn its place in a national museum. “Damn, this thing looks old.”

“What’s a teapot?”

“It’s a pot. That humans serve their tea in. Tea’s like… a beverage made from leaves. It’s actually really tasty, even if it sort of tastes like sour water,” you describe it. “I can bring some tomorrow, if you’d like. Don’t know how well a hot beverage is going to go down in the middle of summer, but we can try.”

“I’d love to,” Jimin says, nodding enthusiastically. He beams up at you, bright cherry hair practically nothing in comparison to the smile he has permanently etched on his face whenever you see him. Jimin’s like a dream, like everything you had ever hoped for in somebody.

“Okay,” you say happily. “Deal. Tomorrow, we’re having a tea party.”

“Not so fast Miss Y/N,” Lisa orders before you can slip out of the house without her noticing. She’s in nothing but a robe, towel wrapped around damp hair, and she’s pointing an accusatory hairbrush in your direction. You must look like a deer caught in the headlights. “Where do you think you’re going now?”

“I’m getting tea,” you tell her.

“It’s nearly boiling point temperatures outside,” she reminds you.

“Iced tea?”

“You’ve been acting sketch recently, Y/N,” Lisa says, stepping down from the staircase and making her way towards you. Your hand fiddles with the door handle. “There’s something you’re hiding…”

Lisa stares deep into your eyes and probably as equally deep into your soul, and you can only hope that she doesn’t inexplicably think of the idea that you might be sneaking off to hang out with a fucking merman, of all things, every single day. She narrows her eyes as she glares into your own.

“I know! You met a boy. A cute one too, that treats you like a princess,” Lisa exclaims, like she’s solved the biggest mystery of her life.

“Got me,” you say awkwardly. It’s technically true. Jimin’s cute. And half-boy. And he certainly does treat you well. “Am I that easy to read?”

“Yes.” Lisa nods firmly. “Now, it’s not my place to interrogate you on your love life, but I want details when you get back, Missy!” She orders, voice high pitched. She pushes you out the door with a shove, nearly making you lose your balance. “Go! Follow the call of young love! Let it guide you to happiness!”

Lisa’s always been so damn dramatic. You shake your head fondly as you make your way to the closest Starbucks, hoping they still serve hot tea despite it being hot enough to bake M&M cookies on the pavement.

Jimin’s there by the time you reach the cove, wading in the water with his eyes closed, floating on it like it’s air. He looks so peaceful, so at home in this state. The sea is where he belongs.

You almost feel bad for interrupting. “Ready for our tea party?”

Jimin is caught off guard by the sound of your voice, flapping around the waves in shock until he regains his senses. For a brief second, he disappears under the water, before bursting above the waves with a splash. “Gave me a fright, there.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know tea parties were so scary,” you apologize, claiming your usual spot on the rock with two still-steaming cups of Starbucks tea in your hands.

“Ah! What are those?” Jimin cries when he sees them, diving below the water so that only his eyes and up are exposed.

“These? Starbucks…?”

“Namjoon says to beware of those items. We find them often on the sea floor, tangled in coral or seaweed. They cause much harm to the creatures below. I once saw a crab trying to fashion itself a new shell out of one,” Jimin says when his entire head comes above the surface.

You suppose Namjoon is one of his merman friends. Probably one that doesn’t take too much of a liking towards humans such as yourself. “They’re not harmful. At least, not when you treat them correctly,” you say, leaning over and holding one up out for Jimin to take. “They’re cups. They have the tea inside them.”

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. “Seriously? These look awfully different from the teapot I had shown you.”

“Tea can be served in various containers,” you tell him eloquently, motioning for him to take the damn cup from your hands. “It all goes to the same place, after all.”

“Touché,” Jimin reasons, taking the cup from you and holding it in his own. He shivers as the warmth bleeds through his skin and into his bloodstream. “Y/N, I hate to be like this, but how will you dispose of these cups once we are finished with them?”

“If you’re worried I’m going to toss them into the ocean like all of the other littering, careless assholes out there in the world, I can assure you that I won’t,” you promise him softly, taking a sip of your tea. “When we’re finished, I’ll take the cups and recycle them, so that they can be turned into something new.”

“Are you sure you’re even human?” Jimin asks, grinning up at you. “You’re just too kind to be like the barbarians we are warned about as children.”

You smile. “I am as human as everyone else.”

Jimin shakes his head softly, not believing you. After all, how could someone as kind, as selfless, as giving, as open as you be anything less than a miracle?

When you both finish up your tea, Jimin happily hands over the empty cardboard cup, licking his lips in the process. You make sure to put them in your bag for safekeeping, intent on disposing of them in the most environmentally friendly manner. The very fact that Jimin was initially frightened by the sight of the Starbucks cups makes you wonder what dumpster fire humanity is turning into.

“That was tasty,” Jimin comments, rubbing his belly with a satisfied look on his face. “I wish that we had beverages such as that down below. Perhaps I can get Seokjin to see if he can make the same concoction from the leaves of the sea flowers.”

“It’s worth a try, right?” You respond, eyes hopeful. You latch your legs over the rock, letting the waves splash against your bare toes in an effort to relieve some of the heat that overwhelms your body, inside and out. “God, I don’t know how you’re not burning up after drinking a hot drink on an equally steamy day. I’m practically melting.”

“I do not see you visibly changing from a solid to a liquid,” Jimin points out.

“It’s an expression,” you inform him.

“Well,” Jimin says proudly, hands placed firmly on his hips. They rest right at the spot where skin turns to scale, where the silver starts to line the lower half of his body. “It’s because I have the ocean to cool me down.”

Before you can say anything in response, Jimin is grabbing hold of your outstretched arm and tugging you into the water, cotton t-shirt and shorts and all. You can only get out a brief gasp before your head is submerged by salt water, Jimin’s fingers never leaving your wrist, not even as you come up for air. He keeps a firm grip on you, something that you are thankful for, considering you were never the greatest swimmer. Sure, you can keep yourself afloat for a little bit, but your stamina is weak and your skills in the water are even weaker.

“Feeling better?” He asks, giggling. You can’t help but allow a smile to force its way across your lips. “You are always staying on that rock. Why? Why not dig your toes into the soft sand or wade in the water? You are at the beach, after all.”

You grimace. “The beach and I are not the fondest of each other,” you admit. “I’m not the biggest fan of the beach, surprisingly enough.”

“But you come and visit me,” Jimin says, looking at you innocently.

“Maybe I’m just a fan of you,” you joke, even though your words ring truth. Jimin really is the only reason why this vacation hasn’t turned into a “stay in the house curled up in the dark with the air conditioning blasting while marathoning various comedies” cation. Because when you first got here, your only plans for the next month were exactly that. And now, every day you wake up looking forward to what will happen next.

Sometimes things change. Sometimes people are the reason behind those changes, but sometimes merpeople are the reason behind those changes.

“I’m honored,” Jimin responds.

You nearly slip under the waves, grasping blindly for Jimin’s arm in desperation. You accidentally brush against his torso, buff and strong. “Ah, sorry,” you say nervously as he reaches out, a hand coming to hold onto your own. “I’m not the best swimmer. Never have been, really.”

“Does that have anything to do with your disdain for the beach?” Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow knowingly.

You shrug guiltily.

“Well, I’ll teach you,” Jimin says firmly, like it’s an order, not a choice. “You can learn from the best.”

“You’d probably crush Michael Phelps in a swimming competition,” you say.

“Who is that?”

“Never mind. Teach me, fish boy,” you say playfully, swatting some water his way. It hits his hair, little droplets decorating each strand like snowflakes along branches. His hair isn’t damp, per se, just shimmery. Everything about him glows in this ethereal sort of way. Like he’s not even a physical being, just light. Just the embodiment of light.

“Hold onto me,” Jimin says, holding his arms out for your to grab. Admittedly, denim shorts and a cotton shirt aren’t the best clothes to go swimming in, and you’re just thankful that your phone wasn’t in your pocket when he pulled you into the water, but you try to your best to hold onto him, the waves soft and gentle. Jimin floats effortlessly in the water, not even needing to bat his singular flipper to stay above the surface. “Come on, I don’t bite.”

Your shaky hands grab hold of his wrists, curling your fingers around his skin as your eyes meet. He’s close, closer than you think you’ve been in a while. You try and keep your eyes trained on the water, watching as the waves brush against your bodies, finding it easier to stare at something inanimate than something real, than him.

“Y/N,” Jimin says softly, making your eyes dart up to him instinctively. “Look at me.”

With a deep breath, you do, allowing your eyes to fall victim to the pool of wonder that resides in his own.

“Okay,” Jimin begins, making sure to never let go. “Start kicking.”

You begin to move your feet, accidentally making obnoxiously large splashes that hit the both of you with little warning, making you close your eyes in shock.

“Not that much,” Jimin says, but it sounds fond. He laughs at your hesitance. “Come on, again. You can do it.”

You try once more, paying extra close attention to the way your feet move against the waves. Slowly, you build up a rhythm, finding yourself floating horizontally, perpendicular to Jimin’s upright body. You can feel his gaze, practically burning a hole right through you, but it doesn’t feel like a watchful eye, a glaring teacher. It feels like him. Just him, really.

Once Jimin sees that you’ve got a pretty good hold on the kicking part, he begins to move backwards, leading you further and further from the shore. When you realize that you can’t see the sea floor, you panic slightly, movements faltering as your grip on him tightens. You don’t think you’ve ever been out this far, never in your youth feeling that inclined to go further than five feet from the edge of the beach before.

“I got you,” Jimin promises, when he notices your fear. “Don’t worry,” he says, voice gentle, like the waves that you follow. “I got you.”

Even though his words are soothing, you are, admittedly, still a bit frightened. After all, as Lisa said, humans have only explored five percent of the ocean. There’s a whole world out there yet to be discovered. Jimin is merely proof of that fact.

“I won’t let go,” Jimin says, like a father teaching his child how to ride a bike. “Just keep kicking.”

You follow his instructions, trying to keep your focus on him rather than the deep blue below you. You hate the uncertainty of not being able to put your feet on the ocean floor, hate the way that they search for something to stand on but come up short.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he tells you, letting go of one of your hands to tilt your gaze towards him. “Don’t worry about what’s below. It won’t hurt you. Just focus on me,” Jimin says, promising.

True to his word, Jimin doesn’t let go of you, even as he begins to lead you back to the shore, where your faithful rock lies waiting for your return. You’ve stopped dwelling on the unknown, focusing on the known, on the way Jimin’s eyes don’t leave yours, on the way his plump lips glisten from the moisture.

“You did it,” Jimin says as you pull yourself back on the rock, shaking your head as a means of wringing your hair out. It’s highly ineffective. “See, swimming’s not so bad.”

“I guess not,” you say hesitantly. “Still don’t know how I feel about the beach.”

“Well, I’m here, doesn’t that make it better?” Jimin asks curiously, tilting his head.

“Yes, I suppose it does,” you tell him, partly just to play along with him, but partly because it’s true.

Maybe you still hate the beach. Maybe you hate the way the sand feels between your toes, hate the way that there are no trees so the sun beats down on you with all the force it’s got. Maybe you hate how the saltwater tastes on your tongue, and the way that the sea can so quickly turn into this vast mass of unknown.

But at least you have him.

The next day follows the same pattern of seeing Lisa only for five minutes in the morning before excusing yourself from the house, excitedly making your way to the cove to see what new things Jimin will bring to you.

This time, he’s got with him a necklace.

“Do you not know what that is?” You ask as you point to the offending object as he tosses it between his fingers, fiddling with the beads. It’s beautiful—a small gold charm in the center surrounded on both sides by more beads of the metal. It looks expensive, like the kind of necklace you imagine would be tossed off of an ocean liner in the early 1900’s by some wealthy heiress letting go of an old lover from her past. And, despite what you assume to be decades of wear and tear from the salt of the sea, it looks almost brand new.

“I do,” Jimin says, examining the jewelry. “It’s a necklace, is it not?”

“Yes, that’s what it looks like,” you say. Today, you remembered your swimsuit, and so you will be daring and sit in the sand, letting the waves wash over you every now and then. It lets you look at Jimin face to face, rather than gazing down at him from your spot on the rock. “Where did you find it?”

“Namjoon found it in one of our caves,” Jimin says, eyes trained on the metal. “He was going to bring it to the lab to study, but I asked if I could have it.”

“Your friend studies humans?”

“He’s fascinated by them,” Jimin informs you. “Thinks it’s wondrous, how a species of animals can be so intelligent yet so blind to the way that they are slowly destroying their own habitats. He really likes looking into that sort of stuff.”

You never realized how truly bizarre humans were until Jimin put it into perspective like that, how humans are observed by a creature of equal intelligence that they don’t even know exists. It does seem strange, the way that the human race is letting their world decompose right in front of them without making any effort to prevent it. Because not only does it affect you, but it affects other animals. And merpeople, like Jimin, who have no choice but to sit back and let it happen right in front of their eyes.

“How does he get his information if you aren’t allowed up to the surface?”

“We’re allowed up to the surface, we just aren’t supposed to near land that humans inhabit,” Jimin says. “I am… a bit of a rulebreaker.”

“You and me both.” You sigh. “Why did you bring up this necklace?”

“It’s for you,” Jimin says, finally looking up to meet your eyes. He’s spent the entire time thus far focused on the necklace he’s fiddling with between his fingers.

“What? What do you want me to do with it?” You ask.

“Wear it,” Jimin says.

“Oh, no, Jimin, I can’t—”

“Why not?”

“That thing’s probably a hundred years old! It must be incredibly expensive, really, I can’t—”

“Gold has no monetary value in the sea,” Jimin says, holding it out. “We do not use it as currency nor do we find it to be particularly valuable. There are lots of gold trinkets down there. They will not miss this one thing. So it is for you.”

He swims closer, tugging you deeper into the sea so you can rest in front him. Your feet just barely reach the ground at this point, but Jimin makes sure to keep you close, even as he loops the necklace over your head, clasping it at the back of your neck. It feels delicate. It feels expensive.

“Jimin, I really—”

“Please, Y/N,” Jimin says, refusing to take no for an answer. “Keep it. It is for you.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, looking down at it.

“So are you.”

Taken aback, you glance from the necklace to the way Jimin is staring at you. His eyes are filled with wonder normally, but right now, even more so, like there are stars that swirl in his irises. He looks at you like you are all he can see. You’re frozen in place, hands still holding onto the chain of the necklace as you watch him. Slowly, he leans in, closer and closer until—

Splash!

Jimin whips his head around to be greeted by another boy, one that looks just a little bit younger than him. He’s got dark tousled hair, much like Jimin’s, and big eyes that seem to overwhelm his face.

“Jimin!” The boy cries.

“Jungkook,” Jimin says in response, clearly surprised at the intrusion. “What are you doing up here?”

“Seokjin is looking for you,” Jungkook says. “He needs you down by the coral.”

“Jungkook, I’m a little—”

“Are you with the human again?” Jungkook asks, eyes widening even further as you come into view. “Jimin, you know you’re not supposed to be up here anymore. It’s dangerous. You can’t interact with them.”

“You don’t know anything, Jungkook,” Jimin says coldly, obviously hurt.

“Namjoon’s warned you before, Jimin,” Jungkook says, ignoring the way his face curls up in guilt. “You can’t be around humans. It doesn’t matter if they’re kind, or sweet, or friendly. They hurt us.”

“Jungkook—”

“Come back down soon. Seokjin’s looking for you,” Jungkook says, and with another splash and a flash of a bright blue tail, he disappears below the waves.

Jimin looks distraught, to say the very least.

“Listen, Jimin,” you say, quickly making your way back to the shore. “If we’re not supposed to be doing this, then we shouldn’t. I don’t want to put you in danger of anything. You shouldn’t get hurt because of me.” With a certain speed to your actions, you quickly grab your cover up along with all of the items you brought with you, shoving them into your bag.

“No, Y/N, please,” Jimin says, voice pleading. “Don’t listen to him. He’s wrong, he’s got it all wrong.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Jimin,” you insist, already gathering your things and making to leave. “You don’t deserve that.”

“He thinks humans are bad, he thinks they’ll hunt us, kill us, eat us. Treat us like objects in a museum, glorified make-believe,” Jimin continues, refusing to go down without a fight. “He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know the real you, just thinks you’re a human using me as a means to gain access to the entire merpeople population. He doesn’t know how sweet you are, how selfless you are, how your eyes light up when you’re talking about something you love, or the way your laughter rings out throughout the cove.”

“Jimin—”

“Please stay,” Jimin begs. “You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t. You just have to trust me.”

“What if something happens, Jimin?” You ask in response.

“Nothing will happen. Please, just stay.”

Torn between wanting to go, wanting to prevent him from any harm that may come his way, and wanting to stay, to relish in the brightness of his smile for just a little bit longer, you pause. You’d never forgive yourself if he got hurt because of you, but you’d never be able to stop thinking about him, even if you never saw him again.

“For a little longer,” you say, making Jimin sigh in relief. “Your friend needs you.”

“He can wait,” Jimin says carelessly. “He always needs me for his ridiculous endeavors. Once, he made me follow him around for an entire day just so he could find out if one of the mermaids was following him around. He thinks he’s hot stuff.”

“Ooh, now I want to meet this guy. See if he is as attractive as he thinks he is,” you say jokingly, but Jimin doesn’t seem to get it. His lips curl into a pout at the mention of you wanting to meet his friend, protesting. “Relax, I’m kidding. You’re the only merman in my life.”

“I should very well hope so,” Jimin says,

“What was your friend talking about? The one that came up?” You ask, curious. Jimin’s friend—Jungkook, you think his name was—had not failed to mention numerous times the danger that humans pose to merpeople. You understand why, but you want to know how those stereotypes came to be. How did merpeople just simply come to realize that it would be better for the safety of their population for humans to live their lives without knowing that there was another civilization, right beneath their feet? “About humans.”

“Oh, that,” Jimin says.

“Why do you think we would hurt you?”

Jimin sighs, like it’s something that’s a sore subject. “Because you have.”

“Oh, Jimin, I’m—”

“I know you humans have that one fairy tale, the one of the mermaid who wants to marry the prince but then he gets married to someone else and she dissolves into sea foam—”

Not the fairy tale you’re used to, but alright. Hans Christian Andersen did always have a thing for morbid stories.

“—but stuff like that happens. Obviously, no human has discovered us and then wanted to abuse our world for your ridiculous scientific research, but merpeople have fallen in love with humans, and vice versa. And every time, the human turns out to be a trap, just someone wishing to know the secrets of the ocean, have expensive gifts bestowed upon them by someone who knows no better, for their own selfish purposes,” Jimin says sadly. “Jungkook’s right. And so is Namjoon. It’s too dangerous for a merperson to fall in love with a human, for they can never be together. The merperson starts to devote their entire life to the human’s existence, and becomes dependent upon them, which is their own personal form of torture, as it is impossible for a merperson to transform into a human.”

“Not even with true love’s kiss?”

Admittedly, it is a pretty hopeless romantic-esque question for you to ask. You’ve never been one for romance like that, love at first sight and all of that nonsense, but you have to know. Disney fairy tales play up the notion of true love’s kiss like the life of the company depends on it, but you cannot deny the strength of love in its purest form.

Jimin chuckles, endeared by your innocence, your hopefulness. “Not even that. Magic doesn’t exist in the mer-world, no matter how much you want it to. We are as human as you, only without the legs.”

“That’s so sad,” you say softly, wondering what has happened to all of the merfolk out in the world who have fallen tragically in love with a human, only to be left with a broken heart and an unstoppable dependence on them. Sounds like a nightmare. You understand why Namjoon and Jungkook are warning Jimin to stay away. You’d be devastated if that happened to him.

“The lack of legs or the hopeless devotion?”

“Both. But mostly the hopeless devotion,” you tell him. “What… what happened to the ones that fell in love?”

“They had their hearts broken. Merpeople are very emotional creatures, so a broken heart can often spell doom. It’s common, when a tragic love between a human and a merperson occurs, for the merperson to die.”

“I thought you said magic wasn’t real,” you say.

“It’s not. That’s just life.”

You’re taken aback by his statement.

“I’d never forgive myself if that happened to you, Jimin,” you tell him firmly, looking him dead in the eyes. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I lose you.”

“You won’t lose me, Y/N,” Jimin promises. “I’ll always be here. We’re friends.”

The unwavering tone of his voice says more than his words ever could. And all you can do is tell yourself that you won’t be like those other humans, that you won’t lead him on and abuse his innocence and break his heart. That is a promise.

“You were out the entire day, Jesus Christ,” Lisa says when you arrive back at the house. She’s in nothing but shorts and a bikini top, pulling out a popsicle from the freezer. “What were you and lover boy doing?”

“He is not my lover,” you insist, feeling the heat creep up on your cheeks.

“Well, if he’s not your lover, then can I at least get a name?” She asks, sitting down on the couch where you’ve plopped all your shit. A popsicle seems very enticing after a long day of ignoring your grumbling stomach in favor of spending as much time with Jimin as possible.

“Jimin,” you say softly. You have to be careful with what you say here, especially considering the history humans have with merpeople, and the history that Lisa has with secrets. You love her, and you know that she means well, but she has this terrible habit of accidentally letting secrets fly loose like it’s nobody’s business. When, in fact, it happens to be a quite a lot of people’s business. So there’s that. “His name is Jimin.”

“That’s a cute name,” Lisa says, pointing her popsicle towards you for good measure.

“Yes, it is,” you happily agree, sitting down next to her with an orange creamsicle in your hand. The heat is already causing it to melt all along the protective napkin you are using for this very thing.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Lisa says, biting into the popsicle with her two front teeth like the heathen she is. You don’t know how she does it, because when your front two teeth hit anything cold it feels like a numbing pain is rushing through your entire body via your bloodstream. “What were you two doing together?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say shyly.

“‘Nothing’ my ass, you had to have been doing something,” she says, frowning. “You were out the whole day! I had to go and pick up my mom’s Louis Vuitton boots by myself because you were busy frolicking or whatever it is that you do! They are cute boots, by the way. I’m probably going to steal them for a night when she’s not looking.”

“We just walked around the pier for a little, went into town for a bit. Got ice cream,” you quickly make up. It sounds like the most cliché date possible, but how much cheesier can your life get now that there’s a fucking merman in the picture?

“Aw, that’s so cute,” Lisa says, swooning. “He sounds like a very nice guy if that’s what you guys did. Boys don’t appreciate the simplicity of dates where you just walk and talk. Like, they let me get to know you as a person in a casual public setting where I am free to be myself and not be judged. What’s not to like? A little word of advice: if a boy is trying to take you to a fancy restaurant on the first date, then he’s hiding something.”

Even though Jimin definitely didn’t take you out to some high-end restaurant, he most certainly was hiding something himself. You just had to take a close enough look to figure out what it was.

“Yeah, it was nice. He’s really nice,” you say, expression growing fond at the the mere thought of Jimin, laughing, talking, swimming.

“Shut up!” Lisa exclaims randomly. Your eyes widen. “Shut up!”

“Lisa, what the fu—”

“Shut the fuck up, you need to marry this man right now immediately. Sorry, I don’t make the rules,” Lisa says, interrupting all conversation. It’s unclear what on earth she’s referring to until you feel her delicate, soft hands grabbing at your neck, and then you remember the necklace. Looking down, you see her eyeing it like she eyes her Super Mario Odyssey game after finding another moon, or whatever those things are called. “Did he buy this for you?”

You nod, not really knowing how else to explain the fact that Jimin found this century-old necklace at the bottom of the ocean and decided to give it to you. It kind of ties in with the minor, unimportant tidbit of information that he is a merman. There would be lots of unpacking to do if Lisa found out. Oh god, so much information.

“It’s gorgeous!” Lisa cries, fingers glossing over the metal. “This looks like it’s just pure gold. Like, not even the fake kind of gold. God, this must have cost an arm and a leg. You have to marry him instantly so that way you can repay the debt you owe him with your ardent, passionate love. It is the only way.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You ask fondly, more to yourself than anything else. Jimin could have probably picked a really ugly, gaudy necklace that was probably dropped down to the bottom of the ocean, but instead he chose this one, a delicate little thing that feels as though if you were to drop it, it would break. Shatter, into a million pieces.

“It’s stunning. I’m pretty sure it costs more than this entire house. And probably Brad’s family’s entire worth. Pure gold is incredibly difficult to come by. I need me a sugar daddy like that,” Lisa laments.

You gasp, slapping her on the chest in indignance. “He is not my sugar daddy! He is around my age!”

“Not all sugar daddies are in their fifties,” Lisa informs you pointedly, as if that’s commonly-known information and you are just behind the times. “Besides, I wonder how I’ve never heard of this kid if he’s rich enough to be dropping six figures on a necklace for a pretty girl like you. I know all the rich people. I am rich people.”

“He lays low,” you say awkwardly, hoping Lisa doesn’t look too into this. Jimin does lay low. In fact, so low that it is actually below sea level. Because he is a merman.

“Clearly. Damn, you really lucked out, Y/N,” Lisa says, standing up with purple all across her lips and a bare popsicle stick in front of her. She doesn’t even bother to read the shitty pun that’s stamped along the side. What a monster. “He sounds like a real catch, this Jimin kid.”

You nod, twirling the necklace in between your fingers. “He is.”

Lisa’s insistence is both a blessing and a curse. She’s awful good at getting what she wants when she wants it, probably a rich kid side effect, but she is also incredibly persistent even at the worst times, refusing to give up or keep calm until she’s satisfied. Sometimes, when you watch her sneakily convince her parents to let her borrow the family limousine, or worm her way out of an unwanted blind date with some stodgy billionaire’s even stodgier son, you admire the quality.

Other times, like when she is practically tugging on your arm, right about to pull it straight from its socket, not so much.

“Please,” Lisa begs, pleading with a pout and puppy dog eyes, the whole nine yards. When she whips out the eyes, you know she means business. “You have to.”

“Lisa—”

“You’ve ditched me almost every day since we got here for this guy, the least you could do is introduce me. I mean, I probably know him anyway since he’s filthy rich. Wish I snagged him while he was still available,” she pleads, ethos, pathos, and logos-ing her way to victory. Damn, she’s good.

You should know that by now, really. Not a single time have you ever not fallen victim to Lisa’s skills of persuasion.

“I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. “He’s pretty busy these days—”

“If he can spare like, three weeks to just spend with you then he can spare a couple hours to meet your loving, doting, wealthy but kind best friend,” she insists. “I mean, he owes me anyway for snatching you away from me this entire time. We’ve been here for almost the full month and I don’t think I’ve gotten to spend a full day with you since the party. It’s really the least he could do.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Please? What’s the worst that could happen?”

You find out that he’s a merman, scream so loudly you alert the authorities, and then they discover him, his friends, and the entire mermaid population, capture them all and bring them to terrible research facilities to undergo all sorts of experiments, like lab rats, you think. Or maybe just Lisa finding out Jimin’s a merman and scaring him off. That would be as equally devastating.

“I’ll have to ask him first. But okay,” you say hesitantly, hoping that it will do to calm her down for a while. She’s been on your back about this the entire morning thus far.

Two hours later, you’re meeting Jimin the cove once more. This time, to hope he gives the okay for Lisa meeting him. You know that once the message comes across, she would never dare reveal their secret. Lisa might be a bit of a talker, but she knows when and where to keep her mouth shut.

“Hey,” Jimin says softly, simply happy just to see you again.

“Hey there, stranger,” you respond.

“What’ll it be this time? A new food? A technological device? A book?” He asks, listing through only some of the various things you’ve brought to him over the past couple of weeks, hoping to teach him everything you can about the strange things humans think up. Like magic, right at their fingertips.

“A question, actually,” you say, leaning over the rock to meet his eyes. “What would you say if my friend wanted to meet you?”

“Is this Lisa?” Jimin asks, interest piqued.

“Yeah, her. She figured out that I was… seeing someone because she has scary psychic powers and now she wants to meet the person who stole away her best friend for the summer,” you tell him, hoping that the explanation is enough.

“Oh,” Jimin says, looking regretful. “Tell her that I’m sorry I stole you away. I didn’t mean to,” he says apologetically.

“She wants you to pay her back by letting you meet her,” you tell him tensely, clenching your teeth together as you smile, feeling guilty for something that isn’t even your fault.

“I’m already breaking about a million merfolk rules by continuing to see you,” Jimin says, visibly unsure. “I don’t know if this is the best idea.”

“I don’t want to pressure you into this, Jimin. But I can tell you that, as her best friend, I know she wouldn’t tell anybody. She’s trustworthy,” you say, knowing your voice is borderlining on pleading but not doing anything to scale it back. “And it’ll only be for a little bit. She knows when and when not to invade in my personal life.”

Jimin’s too soft for his own good. Jimin’s too kind for his own good. Jimin’s too selfless for his own good. “Okay. But just for a little, alright? I know that I’m being hunted down by Yoongi and I think that out of all of my friends, he’s the one who you definitely don’t want to meet.”

“Noted. She’ll probably come down now?” You ask, already pulling out your phone and texting Lisa, telling her to come to the cove. “She might freak out, I’m sorry.”

“You freaked out when you saw me for the first time,” Jimin says, reminding you of your stammering and swearing when you first realized that the man skinny dipping in the ocean was actually a merman.

You frown at him. “Good. You’ll be used to it.”

Soon enough, your phone is buzzing with messages from Lisa, the majority of which say: I’m by the bridge. I’m @ bridge. Where r u. I’m waiting at the bridge. Have you bamboozled me?

She’s a quintuple texter.

“I’m gonna go and fetch her,” you tell Jimin, who has been waiting patiently in the water for the past five minutes. You sat together in silence, but it was the peaceful kind. The kind that lets your mind to declutter itself, to think and dream and wonder.

“Hey!” Lisa says loudly when she sees you jogging up to her. “I didn’t realize you were already here.”

“Yeah, this is where Jimin wanted to meet you,” you inform her.

“Kinda sketch, don’t you think? It’s a very private spot to meet. What if he’s a saxophone-playing serial killer who leaves messages in music notes? He could murder us both and throw our bodies into the sea and boom! That would be the end of our vacation.”

“I wouldn’t have to pay off my college debt,” you reason.

“Fair enough. Alright, take me to meet this mysterious rich boy who’s somehow charmed the pants right off of you,” Lisa says, holding out her hand like a princess as you guide her across the bridge and towards the water, where Jimin waits.

When she sees him, she turns to you, obviously bewildered. “In the water? Put a shirt on, Mister!” She cries as she turns to Jimin. “This is public indecency.”

“We’re in private and he’s swimming,” you say, laughing to yourself. Lisa’s always put herself out there for the world to see, and she doesn’t care what other people think. “Anyway, uh… this is Jimin.”

Jimin holds out his hand, probably having learned the custom from Namjoon’s human studies. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“You too, dude,” Lisa says, leaning forward to shake his hand, and that’s when she sees it. You can tell, because her eyes grow impossibly wide and she practically jumps right out of her own skin at the sight. “Holy mother of Jesus! What the fuck?”

“Surprise?” You say, wincing as you look at her. She’s got this wild expression in her eyes, the same that you have after getting off of a hectic rollercoaster, still reeling from the ride.

“You never mentioned the fact that lover boy was a merman!” She shrieks, pushing you gently as she leans back down to look at Jimin. “That explains a lot, actually.”

“You’re not mad?” You ask.

Lisa shrugs nonchalantly. “Why would I be mad? This is kind of a big deal. I mean, for you, dating is one thing. But a merman? Damn. I don’t even think I have that in me.”

You and Jimin share an awkward glance. “We’re not… dating. Just friends.”

Lisa looks dubious at best. She stares down at your chest, right where the necklace lies, shimmering in the sunlight. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” Jimin adds, tentatively placing himself into the conversation. “Just friends.”

Lisa looks at you like you’ve lost every single marble you had in the first place, and then some. “Are you sure about that?”

“Lisa, really—” You ask, hoping that the look on her eyes will be enough of a hint for her to drop the topic. You and Jimin, well, you don’t really know where your relationship stands. On thin ice, maybe. After all, you’ll never forget the words Jimin used to warn you of what happens to merpeople that are unfortunate enough to fall in love with a human. And you will do everything physically possible under the sun to prevent that from happening to him.

“Fine, fine, it’s whatever,” she says, getting the message loud and clear. You have a feeling you’ll be hearing more about this later. “But this is really cool. I didn’t even know merpeople existed!”

“A lot of people don’t,” Jimin says, half joking, half serious.

“You can’t tell anyone, you know,” you say, warning Lisa with a stern expression on your face. “Merpeople have gone for hundreds of years without humans knowing of their existence. We can’t ruin that.”

Lisa nods, a hand coming up in salute. “Aye aye, captain. Don’t worry about it, Y/N. You know I’d never spill something like an entire hidden population right between our feet. You can trust me,” she promises, a soft hand coming to rest on your shoulder as an extra confirmation. You nod. You know that she would never betray you like that.

The rest of the hour that Jimin has time to spare, Lisa interrogates him like a mad man. But not on merman things, strangely enough, though it does come into conversation every now and then. She asks him normal things, like what his favorite food is, and what he likes to do in his spare time, and how he would describe his friends. Things people put on their dating profiles. Not things that treat him like a scientific discovery, like an object to be stared and ogled at.

“How well will you treat Y/N?” Lisa asks firmly, staring straight into Jimin’s soul. She has a habit of doing that a lot. You gasp in shock at the blatant nature of her question, smacking her gently in order to tell her to knock it off. She shrugs you away.

Jimin looks from Lisa, to you, and then back to Lisa. And then, he smiles. “Like she is the sun that makes this world go round.”

“Are you sure you’re not dating? It looked pretty date-y to me.”

“I’m sure.”

Lisa scoffs.

“Ready for another swimming lesson?”

“That was not what I signed up for when I showed up here, you know,” you say pointedly as you plop your tote bag on the rock, watching as several of the items (junk) you have in your bag spill out over the edge. Typical.

“Too bad, because it’s what you’re getting!” Jimin exclaims, and he’s grabbing onto the middle of your shin, wading in the water, pulling you in with him. You don’t even have your bathing suit on.

“Jimin!” You exclaim as loudly as possible, before the sound of your voice is muffled by the ocean as you find yourself submerged for a brief second. The water is salty on your tongue and it makes your eyes burn, but you love the sensation nonetheless. Coming up for air, you see Jimin beside you, giggling. He has this awfully guilty look on his face. “Oh, you’re in for it now!”

Without another word, you’re flinging yourself towards him, tackling him head on as the two of you come crashing down into the waves again. It has little effect on the merman, since he lives his entire life in the water and is thus immune to its splash-war purposes, but he screams in excitement nonetheless. You try to ignore the way your heart thumps as you come into contact with him, palms pressed firmly on his toned chest, ignore the way his soft skin feels to the touch. Jimin smiles, and the whole world ceases to exist.

“You think that’s good enough?” Jimin asks when the both of you pop your heads above the surface. You shake your head in response, letting water droplets fly from your skin and hair and hopefully onto Jimin. “I’m a merman, Y/N. I’m invincible to your attacks!”

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try!”

With that, you send a furious splash his way, dousing him from head to, well, tail. He grimaces, curling inward at the feeling of the lukewarm droplets hitting his tanned, warm skin, but that doesn’t stop him from retaliating. Almost instantly he splashes you in return, making you shout with laughter. You can only hope that nobody from the public beach can hear you.

It’s back and forth like that until your arms are weak and your stomach aches from laughing, Jimin and you fighting each other like men on the battlefield, vigorously splashing each other. Both of you refuse to go down without a fight, cackling loudly when you get a hit on the other person.

You can’t remember the last time you had this much fun with a boy. Scratch that, actually, you can’t remember the last time you had this much fun, period. Jimin swears he possesses no magic but somehow every day is brighter when you are near him, the moment he opens his mouth and a melody comes out. He is enchanting and enthralling and everything in between. It’s getting harder and harder to stay away.

Jimin pulls that nasty little trick where he taps you on one shoulder when really, he’s standing behind the other. You’d think, after years of falling for it, throughout elementary, middle, and high school, you’d finally learn, but still, you turn around to find the source of the touch, and that’s when he nabs you.

With a cry, you feel yourself getting pushed backwards, hitting the sand roughly. You’re lying in the part where the sand is damp but firm, and waves brush up by your ears but don’t go much further. On top of you is Jimin, as beautiful as always.

“Got you,” Jimin says cheekily, resting atop you with his hands pushing up his upper body, pressing into the land on either side of your head. You can’t help but bring your own palms to brush against his skin. “You’re gullible.”

“I always fall for that trick,” you admit shyly. “You’re not special.”

He pouts. “Am I not?”

Slowly, you trail your hand up from his chest until your finger pokes his nose, making him scrunch up his face. “Got you,” you echo.

Jimin grins. It’s so difficult to look away, to tear your gaze from where it falls in his own. The sea is deep, unexplored, unknown, but his eyes are what you would prefer to discover. What ocean lies beneath the brown of his irises, what more is there to find? He practically radiates under the light, giving off an aura of love and laughter and happiness. As cheesy as it is, this merman is the making of your wildest dreams. There is plenty to learn about Jimin’s people, about the merpeople world that humans know nothing about, but all you wish to explore is him.

Without even realizing it, Jimin finds himself leaning closer and closer, tempted by the way your lips shine from the water, the way your eyes lock with his own.

You chuckle awkwardly, pushing him away. "We should maybe stop," you suggest, offering him nothing but a tense smile. "Don't want anything to happen."

Jimin looks surprised, almost disappointed. "Right, right, that would be kind of bad."

"You know I don't want anything to happen to you, right?" You ask him, hoping that he'll understand. Understand why you can't let this go any further, why you should just stay as friends. Even if it's what you want as well, it's too dangerous.

"I know," Jimin says, and he forces another smile on his face. It doesn't reach his eyes. "You sound just like Namjoon. And my mom."

"I'm sure they care very much about you," you tell him sagely. You make an attempt at dusting off the sand that covers your body, but decide that the effort is fruitless. You were thrown into the sand while soaking wet. What else do you expect to happen? Instead, you decide to take refuge on the rock, where you know you'll be able to dry off easily.

"Don't you?" Jimin asks curiously, tilting his head. He's back in the water now, not exactly keeping his distance but not swimming too close either. Like he's overstepped a boundary and now he knows where he needs to remain. You hate that feeling. Hate this feeling of him drifting away like a piece of plywood, nothing more than a message in a bottle to be left unopened forever.

“Of course,” you say instantly. “More than you know.”

Jimin smiles, and perhaps it doesn’t meet his eyes but you can see the way his expression lightens ever so slightly, as if only a singular novel from a pile of books resting upon his shoulders has been lifted. There’s still something pressing him down, but at least the load is a bit lighter.

You bid goodbye not much later, this time without a promise to return on the edge of your lips. Perhaps it’s for the better if you keep your distance for a little while. Let the high-strung emotions calm down. Hope that they dissipate entirely.

Though, with the ache in your chest as you leave the cove, you’re not sure if they ever will.

Jimin watches as you leave, watches long after he knows you’re gone to do other human things. He can’t stop the way he falls in love, knowing fully well that this may very be the last thing he ever does. Namjoon’s warned him countless times but love is brutal, unstoppable, and leaves no stone untouched, And sure, you may be what causes his demise, but Jimin thinks that of all things, love is a particularly pleasant way to go.

He stays above the surface for a bit longer, today, unable to get his mind off of the way you were so close, the way your eyelids fluttered shut.

And then he sees him.

“I think this is the first day that you haven’t gone prancing off to be with your merman lover boy,” Lisa comments out of the blue as you collapse down on the couch, having made a stack of pity pancakes for the morning. Lisa’s digging into them as well, pouring an obscene amount of syrup on them before deeming them even remotely acceptable to consume.

“I need a day for myself once in a while,” you say, chowing down. “I’m only human.”

“A human who’s inexplicably befriended a fucking merman, of all people, while on a one month vacation to her best friend’s parent’s beach house while, oh, that’s right, hating the beach!” Lisa cries.

“Listen,” you tell her.

“I don’t understand you, sometimes,” Lisa says, shaking her head to herself as she takes another bite of her pancakes. Despite the fact that there are about seven stacked neatly, one on top of the other, she cuts her knife through the entire thing and eats the whole slice, like a cake. “Like, why aren’t you there today? Did something happen?”

“How do you know if you’re in love?”

Lisa nearly drops her fork on the marble floor, but instead it hits the couch cushion.

“You’re in love?” She asks, incredulous. “Now that’s something.”

“I don’t know if I’m in love, that’s why I’m asking!” You insist, but you know that she can see right through you. Perks of being your best friend. “How do you know?”

“Are you in love with him?” She asks, voice much quieter now. She’s stopped eating her pancakes, leaving them left untouched on her plate. “Are you in love with Jimin?”

“I don’t know,” you respond, tone equally soft. It’s hard now, to wonder a life without him. Wonder how this vacation might have been had you never even met him, never stumbled upon him on that fateful night in the cove.

Jimin makes you question everything you knew about life, everything you knew about the world as it was. Because Jimin takes the past and turns it into the future. He takes “what ifs” and turns them into reality. And he has taken you, and transformed your heart.

“You know,” Lisa says, interrupting your thoughts. She has this sure look on her face, an expression of absolute certainty. “I think that you know when you love someone when you realize that they have turned even your greatest dislikes into your most favorite things.”

If you had been asked a month ago how you would feel on your last day at Lisa’s vacation home, you probably would have said something along the lines of “relieved.”

But now, you feel anything but.

Keeping your distance from Jimin turned into avoiding him at all costs, staying holed up in your room or camped out on the couch, or marching through the streets and staying far, far away from the beach.

What would have happened to Jimin if you stayed?

You keep replaying that scene on the beach over and over. The way his hair looked with the sun shining down on it. His deep brown eyes, more wondrous than the ocean in its entirety. How he leaned over you, looked down and began to close the gap between your bodies, between your lips.

It’s a frightening thought, really. You don’t want Jimin to turn into another one of those warning stories, a message for other merfolk to stay far away. You want him safe, you want him secure. And if staying away is what will bring him that, then so be it.

That is what you will do.

“Ready to bounce?” Lisa asks, looking around the house one final time. “Until next year, beach house.”

You almost leave without saying goodbye.

“Just a second,” you say, fumbling to put your bag down as you dart out the door. You’ve ignored him for this long. The least you could do is say goodbye. Maybe, if you return next year, he’ll be there. It’s selfish to think of such a thing, to hope and pray that he will await your return faithfully when there are so many other things to be doing, so many other fish in the sea. But you have always been a particularly selfish girl.

You rush towards the cove, nearly tripping over a stone by the path that leads towards the bridge, when you find yourself stopped in front of somebody. They’re blocking the bridge.

It’s Brad.

“Y/N,” Brad says sternly, blocking off your path.

“Brad…” you say, practically in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s not safe here,” Brad says. “Go home.”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, perplexed. What has happened here? What’s going on? Is Jimin alright?

“There’s a merman.”

You gasp.

“Brad, what the fuck is wrong with you!” You say, grabbing onto his arm in a desperate attempt to pass through. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin—

“He’s dangerous, Y/N! He’ll hurt you!” Brad shouts, loud enough to have you curling into yourself in fright. You can barely see over him, but what you can make out when you step onto your tiptoes is a mop of red hair, fighting against two men in two burly uniforms.

“Let me through!” You screech, and you don’t know if it’s just sheer strength or the desperate urge to save Jimin from whatever those two men will do to him, but you manage to push past Brad and make your way into the cove.

Jimin looks like a nightmare. His hair is matted, knotted and stiff, and his breathing is heavy. The two men have got their arms looped around his own, dragging him out of the water and onto the shore. He fights them with all of the power that he’s got but he’s no match for their size and strength, doing nothing but panting as he wrestles to be released.

You wonder if this is what Namjoon was warning Jimin about, instead. Perhaps Namjoon already knew that this had gone too far, that something was bound to happen, and he was just trying to keep Jimin safe.

So were you.

“Jimin!” You cry, unable to do much else, knowing you could hardly compare to the two men dragging him from his home, his world

Jimin, through the bangs that cover his eyes and the heavy exhales that leave his lips, looks up at you. He sees you standing by the bridge, eyes wide in terror, and he relaxes. He knew you would come back. Jungkook wouldn’t believe him—insisted that you were done, that the heartbreak you had left him with was all you had ever intended on, but he knew that wasn’t you. He knew that you would return. And here you are.

“Y/N,” Jimin says, like it’s a breath of fresh air. Sure, he’s being beaten and pulled and tugged, but you are all he needs.

“Get off of him!” You’re shrieking, fighting against the officers taking him away. The efforts are fruitless but you’ll try nonetheless, give it all of your power and all of your might to prevent them from taking Jimin from his home, from taking Jimin from you. “You’re hurting him! Stop!”

“No can do, Miss. This here is a dangerous monster,” the one officer tells you gruffly, ignoring your pleas.

“He’s not a monster,” you say, leaning down to meet Jimin’s eyes. He’s tired and aching and sore, but the sight of you suddenly soothes his pain. “He’s just a boy. He’s another person, like you and I.”

“Miss, he has a tail.”

“So what?” You shout. “Who cares?” The men back off at your shouting.

“Y/N,” Jimin pants out your name through heavy breaths, feeling as though his chest is about to collapse in on itself. “Don’t. You’ll get into trouble—”

“Jimin, I won’t leave you here—”

“Just let them take me,” Jimin says, looking up at you. He catches a glimpse, in the light of it all, of the necklace around your neck. You haven’t taken it off ever since he gave it to you. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright!” You scream. “I’m not going to let them do this. You—”, hiccup, “—told me about what happens to merpeople when they fall in love, but I never figured out what happens when it’s the other way around.”

“What?” Jimin asks.

“I love you, Jimin,” you say softly. “Ever since the day we met. I have loved you.”

“That’s impossible!”

You turn your head to see Brad fuming a few steps away.

“He’s a monster, Y/N. How could you ever love someone like him?” Brad says, pointing an accusing finger Jimin’s way.

You stand in front of him, protectively. Brad may have hurt Jimin but he will not hurt you. “He’s not a monster, Brad. You are. Go fuck yourself.”

Jimin nearly doubles over in laughter.

“How dare you,” Brad says, looking more villainous by the second.

“I’d listen to her, if I were you.”

Suddenly, from behind Brad’s massive frame pops Lisa, who looks pleasantly surprised by the situation at hand. You and Jimin look equal parts like wrecks, you with tears still streaming down your face despite the smile dancing across your lips, and Jimin with bruises and splotches blossoming over his chest and face.

“Lisa!”

“Brad, did it ever occur to you that you are a Grade A Dickwad?” Lisa asks.

“How dare you,” Brad says again, seemingly the only phrase in his vocabulary. “I’ll have you know, I could ruin your life in an instant.”

Lisa cackles. “So? So could I. Brad, I don’t know about you, but I know a certain younger sibling who is more than happy to take over the family business in your place. All I have to do is send in a good word via my parents. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Try me. I’ll do it. Maybe I’ll marry her instead of you, just to rub it in. Now, how about that?”

You have never seen Lisa look more serious than in this moment. You’re proud of her. You really are. This is why she’s your best friend.

Brad, unable to come up with any responses despite his abnormally large head, stomps off angrily, like an immature twelve-year-old. The officers follow, albeit less childlike, leaving the three of you alone in the cove.

“Had it coming. God, that felt good,” Lisa says, taking a deep breath of satisfaction.

“Jimin, are you alright?” You ask, leaning down to help him back into the water. He adjusts instantly, body reacting positively at the feeling of the waves against his skin once more. “You’re hurt.”

“You’re in love with me,” Jimin breathes out.

“Jimin, seriously, you’re covered in bruises. We need to get you to a doctor.”

“You’re in love with me,” he repeats. “You. For real.”

You nod, smiling fondly. “I am. More than you know.” You reach over to tuck a stray strand back when he grabs your wrist, pulling you into the water beside him.

“Good,” Jimin says. “Because there’s no merfolk protocol for when a human falls in love with a merperson. Which means that I get to do this.”

Before you know it, Jimin is pressing his lips on yours, pulling you in with his palms on your cheeks. You gasp into the sensation before quickly melting into his touch, the heat of your bodies combining with the coolness of the water to create a tingling feeling. He tastes like saltwater, like tea, like oranges. He tastes like the stars.

“You guys are so fuckin’ gross, I’m living,” Lisa says as she watches fondly, proud of you.

“Just so you know,” Jimin says when you part. He wipes a drop of water from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I love you, too. I knew from the very first day that you would be the cause of my demise.”

“I’m touched.”

Jimin pulls you in for another kiss.

One Year Later

Brad’s a blabbermouth, but that’s okay.

Now that people are starting to realize that merpeople actually exist, they don’t know what to do with all this newfound information that has to be shared. And that is precisely why you changed your major, are studying to become a marine biologist, with a focus in merfolk studies, a blossoming area of research. Science was always your thing, anyway.

Not to mention the fact that you have a little help gathering your research from a few certain someones.

“Jump in!” Jungkook calls from below the cliff, waving at you from where you stand. Lisa’s down there too, somewhere, with her new girlfriend (she finally asked her out to that damn mini golf course). They’ve taken up residence of the beach house, and the place is all to themselves. “Come on!”

The rest of Jimin’s friends are there too, all having fun in their own way as they egg you on. It’s not even that big of a jump. Really, it’s more the fear that you will pull an epicly sad belly flop into the water and feel the consequences for the days following.

“Come on, babe!” Jimin calls. “The water’s great!”

Rolling your eyes, you take a deep breath and jump.

When you resurface, you notice Jimin swimming towards you with ease, wrapping you in his arms and doting on you like every loving boyfriend should.

“I knew you could do it,” Jimin says encouragingly.

“You guys are disgusting,” Yoongi tells you, frowning. You wonder if his navy blue tail attracts a lot of heat from the light.

“Put that in your human research study!” Jungkook shouts towards Namjoon, who then proceeds to pelt him with a small seashell in retaliation.

Truth be told, you have been particularly helpful with Namjoon’s research. He’s never dared speak to a human before you, but after countless reassurances from Jimin (and even Jungkook!), he finally decided that the sacrifice would be worth the scholarly output. And so, you tell him all about why humans litter, and how skyscrapers built, and why some people are at the top of their socioeconomic class and why others are at the very bottom.

But most of the time, you exchange information. For every factoid you give him, he gives you a tidbit in return. It’s only fair, really. Strangely enough, you sort of see yourself in him, studious and dedicated but easily tricked and a little bit clueless on certain occasions.

Jimin smiles as he pulls you in tighter into his arms. “Can’t believe I get you year round now, not just the summer.”

“Yup,” you say proudly. “The university just paid for my first month’s rent.”

You assume that your college thinks that maybe some down payments now will have massive benefits later, when your research of the merfolk population earns you a Nobel Prize, or something. But right now, you’re just going to milk every single penny they give you until it all runs dry.

“You’re stuck with me,” you tell Jimin like it’s a bad thing. He grins, the words music to his ears, and kisses you.

“Gladly,” he says.

⇒ hmu with feedback or talk to me here!

#sfwbangtan #bts writing squad #bangtan bookclub #bts fluff #jimin fluff #merman au #bts merman #bts scenarios #jimin scenario #bts imagine #jimin imagine #jimin angst #bts au #bitches it's here!!!i cant believe i wrote this in 3 days #also it's unedited so there r probably a lot of mistakes #i dont care #i watched exclusively the little mermaid and the live action beauty and the beast while writing this #maybe i can finally get the sorted aus out next......#w: fairytail

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