Work Text:
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
Seungcheol’s dreams were of gentle waves and the weightlessness of sleep. But they were shattered by the sound of running water. Drip. Drip. Drip. Wait, no. That’s not a drip. It’s definitely a steady, rushing stream.
His eyes snapped open. 6:17 AM. The digital numbers glowed red in his dark bedroom. He lived alone and worked from home. The only running water at this hour should be from his coffee maker, and that was hours away. His heart pounding against his ribs, he swung his legs out of bed, grabbed the nearest thing he could use as a weapon—a solid, hardcover book. He crept out of his room, down the short hall, towards the source of the sound: his bathroom. The door hung slightly open, light spilling out in a thin line. He lifted the book, breath held, and nudged the door wider, only for his brain to short-circuited.
In his bathtub, waist-deep in a rush of cold tap water, sat a man. A naked man. A naked, devastatingly beautiful man with hair the color of sun-bleached sand touched with mint at the edge, tumbling in soft waves to his shoulders. His skin was porcelain-pale, almost glowing beneath the blinding bathroom lights. He was running his slender fingers through the stream of water, watching it with quiet wonder, as if he’d never seen such a thing before.
Seungcheol’s grip on the book loosened. It hit the tiled floor with a dull thud. The sound made the man look up. His eyes were wide and fluid brown, carrying a depth that felt at once innocent and timeless. When they settled on Seungcheol, a slow, radiant smile unfurled across his face. So breathtaking it could bring nations to their knees.
Seungcheol did the only thing his shocked system could process. He slammed the bathroom door shut. He leaned against the wall opposite, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, hands on his head. What the actual fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut, counted to three, and opened them. The hallway was still there. The sound of running water was still there.
“Okay, must be a dream. And a weird one,” he muttered, slapping his own cheek. It stung. “Okay, not a dream.”
Cautiously, he stood up and reached for the doorknob again. He took a deep breath, counted to three, and swung the door open. The man was still there. He had now discovered the rubber duck Seungcheol’s niece had left behind. He was poking it with a curious finger, his head tilted in that same, utterly clueless manner. He looked up as Seungcheol entered, there was an unguarded fascination in his expression, untouched and sincere.
“Who… who are you?” Seungcheol’s voice was a raspy whisper. “How did you get in here? What are you doing?”
The man’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a small frown of concentration. He opened his mouth.
“A?” he said. The sound was soft, questioning.
Seungcheol blinked. “What?”
The man’s face lit up again, as if delighted by the response. “A!” he repeated, more confidently this time.
“Is that your name? A? Are you… are you hurt?”
The man just tilted his head the other way, his mint-and-vanilla hair shifting over his shoulder. “A?”
Seungcheol’s initial fear quickly gave way to a deep confusion. This wasn’t a burglar—no, this was something entirely different. The man looked harmless, almost heartbreakingly out of place. And, well, naked. Seungcheol felt his face burn. He could not, under any circumstances, talk to a naked stranger in his bathtub.
“Okay. Okay. First things first,” Seungcheol said, more to himself than to the man. He marched to his bedroom, grabbed a pair of soft grey sweatpants and hoodie, and returned to the bathroom. He held them out, averting his eyes. “Here. Put these on.”
Seungcheol’s outstretched hand and the man looked at the clothes as if they were a fascinating new species of sea life. He poked it.
With a sigh of exasperation, Seungcheol approached. “Arms up,” he instructed, miming the action.
Miraculously, the man seemed to understand the gesture. He raised his arms, water sliding down his pale skin. Seungcheol, his face burning, quickly and efficiently maneuvered the man out of the tub, dried him off with a towel (an experience he vowed to never speak of), and dressed him in the sweats and hoodie. The clothes was too big on the man’s slender frame, the sleeves covering his hands, the pants pooling around his bare feet. He looked impossibly cute, making him three times smaller.
“Okay, now,” Seungcheol said, steering the man by his shoulders out of the bathroom, through the living room, and to his front door. “You can’t stay here. I don’t know who you are or what’s going on, but you have to go.”
He opened the door to the quiet, morning-lit hallway of his apartment building. The man looked from Seungcheol’s face to the open door with his expression unreadable.
“Go on,” Seungcheol said, his voice firm despite the pang in his chest. He gently pushed the man over his shoulder.
The man turned around, his large eyes wide. “A?”
“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol said, and he closed the door, locking it.
He leaned against it, breathing heavily. His heart was still hammering. What had he just done? Who was that? He had the distinct feeling he’d just kicked out a lost, defenseless puppy. A very beautiful, very confused puppy that didn’t speak any known language. The silence of his apartment was suddenly overbearing. A minute passed. Then two. Guilt crawl at him. What if the man was mentally disabled? What if he was lost? What if he got hurt? And Seungcheol couldn’t take it. With a groan of self-recrimination, he unlocked the door and pulled it open.
The man was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall opposite Seungcheol’s door. He drawn his knees up to his chest, the too-long sleeves of the hoodie pulled over his hands. He looked small, vulnerable, and absolutely dejected. He looked up as the door opened, and his eyes, which had been sad, instantly filled with a hopeful, shimmering light.
Seungcheol’s resolve, what little there was of it, shattered completely.
“Fine,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “You win. Get inside.”
The man scrambled to his feet with an unnatural, fluid grace and practically skipped back into the apartment, a brilliant, sunbeam-like smile back on his face.
“A!” he declared, as if it was the most heartfelt greeting in the world.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
Seungcheol tried the rational approaches first. He took a picture of ‘A’ and went door-to-door in his apartment building. “Have you seen this man? He seems lost.” The answers were a uniform, concerned ‘no’. He went to the police station, the man clinging to his arm like a limpet.
“He can’t speak,” Seungcheol explained to the weary-looking officer. “He just… appeared.”
The officer looked at ‘A’, who was currently fascinated by the spinning of a ceiling fan, his head craned back, mouth slightly open in a silent “Woah.”
“No ID, no name, no ability to communicate,” the officer summarized. “We can take him to a facility. They’ll care for him, try to find his family.”
The moment the officer gestured for ‘A’ to follow him, the man’s fascination with the fan vanished. He let out a distressed “A!” and latched onto Seungcheol’s arm, burying his face in his shoulder, his whole body trembling. The panic was pure instinct. Seungcheol looked down at the fluffy mint-and-vanilla head pressed against him, felt the desperate grip on his bicep, and knew with a certainty that surprised him that he could not, would not, leave him in some sterile, impersonal facility.
“It’s okay,” he found himself saying, to both the man and the officer. “It’s alright. He can stay with me for now. I’ll… I’ll look after him.”
And so, he did. The following days were a masterclass in chaos, though. Seungcheol, a man whose brain was a finely-tuned machine for pattern recognition and logical analysis, found himself confronted with a subject who defied all known patterns.
He quickly realized that “A” was not just a non-verbal person; he was a complete blank slate. He didn’t know how to use utensils. He tried to eat the soap in the shower. He was fascinated by the television, attempting to touch the moving images, and then becoming distressed when his hand couldn't pass through the screen. He tried to drink Seungcheol’s coffee, made a horrified face, and then, to Seungcheol’s astonishment, tried to eat the ceramic mug.
“No! Not food!” Seungcheol yelled, prying the mug from his surprisingly strong grip.
“A!” the man retorted, frowning.
Then he realized the man needs a name. “A” felt insufficient. Seungcheol found himself staring at that hair, a unique blend of pale blonde and soft, seafoam mint green. It was the most distinctive thing about him, aside from his general otherworldliness.
“Mint,” Seungcheol said, as the man was intently watching the bubbles in his orange juice. “I’m going to call you Mint. Is that okay?”
The man—Mint—looked up. He seem to considered this. He pointed to his own hair, then to Seungcheol’s pot of mint plant on the windowsill, which was looking decidedly worse for wear after Mint had tried to taste its leaves. He looked back at Seungcheol for confirmation.
Seungcheol was stunned. The connection was immediate and astute. “Yes! Like the plant. Mint.”
Mint nodded, accepting his name. So, Mint he become.
By then, Seungcheol, the shy and awkward twenty-six-year-old who found small talk exhausting, discovered he didn’t need to talk with Mint. Their communication was a language of gestures, expressions, and simple sounds. He would point, and Mint would look. He would smile, and Mint would smile back, ten times brighter. He would teach Mint a new word, and the pure joy on Mint’s face at understanding was a reward in itself.
He started with objects. “Cup,” Seungcheol would say, holding up a cup. Mint would stare, then point at the cup. “A?”
“Cup,” Seungcheol repeated. Mint’s brow would furrow single-mindedly. He would open his mouth, struggle for a moment, and then say, “Kuh… A!”
It wasn’t “cup,” but it was a consonant. Progress it is.
The first time Mint successfully mimicked a word was a bit special, it was Seungcheol’s name. He’d been pointing to himself for days, saying, “Seungcheol. Cheol.”
One evening, as Seungcheol was making dinner, Mint tugged on his sleeve.
“A?”
“What is it, Mint?”
Mint pointed a slender finger directly at Seungcheol’s chest. He took a deep breath, his face a mask of effort. “Ch… Ch… Cheol.”
Seungcheol froze, the spatula hovering over the pan. His heart did a funny little flip. It was slurred, it was soft, but it was unmistakable. Cheol.
He looked down at Mint, who was looking up at him with a hopeful, tentative expression, as if waiting for approval.
Seungcheol felt a warmth spread through his chest, feeling so proud and tender it almost frightened him. He smiled, a genuine, unreserved smile. “Yeah,” he said, his voice softer. “That’s me. Cheol.”
He then proceeded to learn words with a whimsical, unpredictable logic all his own. He mastered “water” immediately, his love for it innate. He learned “fish” after Seungcheol made grilled salmon for dinner. But he also pointed at the ceiling fan and declared, “Bird!” with utter conviction. He called the refrigerator “Co-d Box” before he ever learned the word ‘refrigerator’.
Then the first truly original, context-appropriate word came one evening. Seungcheol had given up on work and was watching a nature documentary. Mint was curled beside him on the couch, captivated by the sweeping shots of the Serengeti. As the sun set on the screen, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and purples, Mint gasped softly. He turned to Seungcheol, his eyes reflecting the screen’s light, and whispered, “Pretty.”
Seungcheol’s breath caught in his throat. The word was perfectly clear, filled with a sense of awe that was extremely moving. He wasn’t just naming an object; he was expressing a feeling. Seungcheol found himself staring not at the TV, but at the ethereal boy beside him, the word echoing in his mind. Yes. Pretty.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
Seungcheol had to start his busy workday. He settled at his desk in the corner of the living room, his laptop open to a dense spreadsheet. Mint, curious, padded over on silent bare feet and stood behind him, peeking over his shoulder.
“A?” Mint said, pointing a slender finger at the screen filled with numbers and graphs.
“It’s work,” Seungcheol explained, feeling strangely self-conscious. “It’s boring.”
Mint didn’t seem to think it was boring. He watched the cursor blink and move for a solid ten minutes, truly captivated. Then, he reached out and tapped the screen.
“No, no, don’t touch,” Seungcheol said gently, guiding his hand away.
Mint’s attention span, Seungcheol was learning, was that of a hyperactive goldfish. He soon lost interest in the spreadsheet and discovered the window. The sight of a pigeon landing on the balcony railing sent him into a frenzy of excited pointing and “A! A! A!”s.
Seungcheol found he couldn’t concentrate. Not with this beautiful, chaotic variable introduced into his meticulously controlled environment. He kept glancing over, watching Mint explore his apartment with the wonder of a tourist on another planet. He traced the patterns on the rug with his toes, stared at his own reflection in the dark TV screen, and spent a concerning amount of time trying to figure out how a light switch worked, turning the kitchen light on and off until Seungcheol had to gently lead him away.
It should have been annoying. For a man who thrived on order and quiet, it should have been a nightmare. But it wasn’t. There was a lightness, a whimsy to Mint’s curiosity that was infectious. Seungcheol caught himself smiling more than he had in months.
Then the real test came when Seungcheol had to use the bathroom. He pointed at the couch. “Sit. Stay. I’ll be right back.”
Mint tilted his head but obediently sat on the very edge of the cushion, looking like a well-dressed ghost. Seungcheol did his business as quickly as possible, half-expecting to find the apartment on fire when he emerged. He opened the door to a perfectly intact living room. Mint was gone from the couch, though. Panic spiked for a second before Seungcheol spotted him. He was in the corner, curled into a tight ball on the floor, fast asleep, his minty hair fanned out around him like a halo. He was sleeping in the exact spot where a patch of sunlight fell, absorbing the warmth like a cat.
Seungcheol’s heart did something again and it's warm in his chest. He fetched a blanket and carefully draped it over the sleeping form. Mint sighed in his sleep, nuzzling into the fabric.
“What am I going to do with you?” Seungcheol whispered, his voice full of a fondness that it scared him a little.
Days turn into a week. Seungcheol’s life became a strange, new routine of working the whole day with caring for his… his what? His guest? His pet? But the nearest one he could name is, his responsibility.
“I’m going to the store,” Seungcheol announced one afternoon, grabbing his wallet. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. You… be good.”
The last time he’d left Mint alone for ten minutes, he’d returned to find Mint had somehow found an entire roll of toilet paper and draped it artistically around the living room like some kind of minimalist spiderweb. He’d looked immensely proud of his installation.
Mint, who had been watching a cartoon, immediately stood up and run to the door, his expression determined. He was not being left behind.
“No, Mint, you have to stay here,” Seungcheol said, firmly.
Mint’s face fell. He pointed at the door, then at himself. “Go.”
“It’s too crowded. It’s confusing.”
“Go,” Mint repeated, his lower lip jutting out in a pout that was devastatingly effective.
Seungcheol hesitated. He looked at Mint, dressed in the new, better-fitting clothes he’d ordered for him online—soft pink sweatpants and a simple long-sleeved shirt. He looked almost normal, if one ignored the otherworldly hair and the constant look of bewildered wonder. Maybe… maybe it would be okay.
“Fine,” Seungcheol relented. “But you hold my hand. And you don’t touch anything. Understand?”
Mint’s pout vanished, replaced by a brilliant smile. “Under! stand!”
The supermarket was a trial by fire. The automatic doors were the first hurdle. They slid open with a whoosh, and Mint yelped, jumping back and clinging to Seungcheol’s arm.
“It’s okay, it’s just a door,” Seungcheol soothed, his face heating up as an elderly woman gave them a strange look.
Inside, it was worse. Mint was a pinball of fascination. The fluorescent lights were “Pretty!” he exclaimed, arms spread wide. It was hard to tell whether the sparkle in his eyes came from the lights’ reflection or from pure amusement. The Muzak was a mystery he had to stop and listen to, tilting his head. He tried to taste a display of pineapples, tried to pat a little girl’s balloon animal (much to the girl’s alarm), and became hypnotized by the shimmering, spinning disco ball of a bag of sequins in the craft aisle.
“Mint, no!” Seungcheol found himself saying every thirty seconds, gently pulling him away from various items. He was flustered, embarrassed, and sweating. This was a nightmare.
But then, along the way Mintʼs strange amusement to the most normal things to human, he saw the store through Mint’s eyes. The sheer, overwhelming magic of it all. The colors, the sounds, the abundance. He realized that even the smallest thing is well-appreciated. Instead of feeling annoyed, he started to explain. “That’s fruit. We don’t eat it until we pay. That’s a balloon. It’s filled with air. What you just heard is called music, Mint.” Mint listened, his eyes wide, absorbing everything.
In the freezer aisle, Mint pressed his whole face against the glass, fogging it with his breath, watching the fogging and clearing with a childlike joy. “A! Cold!” he announced, delighted.
Seungcheol laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was a real, full-bellied laugh that made a few shoppers turn and smile. He was no longer the flustered caretaker; he was a guide to a wondrous new world. On a whim, he picked up a small, plush toy from a bin—a blue, smiling jellyfish.
He handed it to Mint. “Here. For you.”
Mint took the toy. His reaction was not the expected happy bounce. He went completely still. He stared at the plush jellyfish, his expression a mixture of recognition and a deep, stirring sadness. He held it as if it were made of glass, his fingers gently tracing the soft tentacles.
“A…” he whispered.
He looked up at Seungcheol, and for the first time, there was a clear, intelligent communication in his eyes—a thank you, and a story he couldn’t yet tell. He clutched the toy to his chest for the rest of the trip, calm and serene. Seungcheol’s curiosity burned brighter than ever.
Month had passed. Seungcheol’s brain starved of a solvable problem just like how he do his work, immediately began compiling data on his new roommate.
Subject: Mint
- Hyperactive & Curious: Requires constant stimulation. Will investigate everything, from the hypnotic spin of a washing machine to the prickly texture of the welcome mat. His attention span is that of a mayfly, but his capacity for wonder is infinite(?)
- Diet: Omnivorous in the extreme!! Has tried to eat a USB cable (resulting in a frantic tackle from Seungcheol), a succulent from the windowsill (spat it out immediately), and a bar of lavender soap (seemed to enjoy it until Seungcheol fished the pieces out of his mouth). Shows a particular, almost spiritual fondness for sweet, soft foods and anything gelatinous. The first time he tried strawberry jelly, he stared at the wobbly red cube on his spoon for a full minute before eating it, then let out a reverent, shuddering “A~” that seemed to vibrate through his entire body.
- Vocalization: Limited to variations of “A.” “A?” for question/curiosity. “A!” for excitement/discovery. “A…” for sadness/displeasure. “A~” for contentment. He was beginning to experiment with consonants, a soft “K” or “M” sound forming at the back of his throat when he was trying hard to communicate for weeks before finally can mimic a full words!
- Physicality: Surprisingly graceful and fluid in movement, but with a tendency to bump into things due to distraction. Dislikes wearing socks. Prefers to be barefoot, his toes curling against the cool wood floor. Sleeps deeply and still as a statue, often found in bizarre, contorted positions that looked unbearably uncomfortable but from which he would wake up looking perfectly refreshed.
- Unexplained Phenomenon #1: An apparent, intense fascination with water, especially in large quantities. The bathtub was his happy place.Would often find him just sitting in the empty tub, or with just an inch of water, running his hands through it.
- Unexplained Phenomenon #2: A strange, almost magnetic attraction to me (Seungcheol). He followed me from room to room, (my silent, beautiful shadow atp). He would sit on the floor near my desk while I worked, not demanding attention, just… present. But presence was silent, maybe comforting him in the background of my life(?)
And this final point was what finally got through to Seungcheol, breaking down his walls for good.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
A few days later, Seungcheol’s friend, Soonyoung, showed up unannounced, buzzing from the intercom.
“Hyung! I’ve got your bucket from the fishing trip!”
Panic seized Seungcheol. “Uh, now’s not a good time!” he said into the speaker.
“Don’t be a jerk, I’m just dropping it off. I’m coming up.”
“No, wait—!”
It was too late. Seungcheol spun around. “Mint, hide! In the bedroom! Quick!”
Mint, who had been building a precarious tower of couch cushions, looked confused. “Hide?”
“Yes! Go into the bedroom and be very, very quiet! Don’t come out until I say so!” Seungcheol gently pushed him towards the hallway just as a knock came at the door.
He opened it, trying to look casual. Soonyoung stood there, holding the white bucket. “Hey. You look stressed. Work getting to you?”
“Something like that,” Seungcheol said, taking the bucket and trying to block the view into the apartment.
“What's gotten into you, man?” Soonyoung, of course, invited himself in. “You know what? that trip last time was weird. Remember that really pretty jellyfish we saw near the rocks? The big, opal one?”
“Jellyfish?” Seungcheol asked, confused.
“Yeah. I could have sworn it jumped right into our bucket when we were packing up. But when I emptied it at home, it was gone. Must have slipped out. Shame, it was gorgeous.”
Seungcheol’s mind was reeling. A jellyfish? Jumped into the bucket? His train of thought was derailed as the bedroom door creaked open. Mint wandered out, yawning. He was wearing only Seungcheol’s hoodie, which just barely covered what it needed to, his long, pale legs completely bare. His hair was sleep-tousled. He blinked sleepily at Soonyoung.
Soonyoung’s jaw dropped.
“Uh, hyung… who is that?”
Seungcheol’s brain short-circuited for the second time because of the same person. “This is… my… cousin! From… the countryside! He’s visiting! He’s very… eccentric. Sleepwalks. Doesn’t understand… doors.”
Mint, completely oblivious, padded over to Seungcheol and leaned against him, resting his head on Seungcheol’s shoulder, already half-asleep again. “Cheol…” he mumbled.
Soonyoung looked from Seungcheol’s bright red face to the devastatingly beautiful, half-naked man clinging to his friend. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face. “Right. A ‘cousin’. Okay. I see how it is. I’ll, uh, let you two get back to it.” He winked and made a hasty retreat, still grinning.
Seungcheol buried his face in his hands. This was a disaster. But as Mint nuzzled into his neck, warm and trusting, the disaster felt… strangely wonderful.
Night came, Seungcheol decided to test his doubt. He sat Mint down in front of his laptop. “Mint, I need to show you something.”
He pulled up videos of the ocean. Vast, blue, endless. Waves crashing. Schools of fish shimmering like living metal. And then, jellyfish. A bloom of them, pulsing gracefully in the deep, their bells like living lanterns. Mint’s reaction was immediate and instinctual. He let out a sharp gasp, his hands flying to the screen. He tapped it frantically, making distressed, clicking sounds in the back of his throat. He traced the shapes of the jellyfish, his fingers slightly trembling. He looked at Seungcheol, his eyes pleading, full of a pain and recognition that was heartbreaking.
“Home?” Seungcheol asked softly, his own throat tight.
Mint stared at the screen for a long moment, at the jellyfish drifting in their silent, weightless world. Then he slowly shook his head. He turned away from the laptop and instead crawled into Seungcheol’s lap, burying his face in Seungcheol’s chest, his whole body was now obviously trembling. He wasn’t shaking his head at the concept of home. He was shaking his head at the idea of going back. The thought should have been a relief. But it only made Seungcheol’s heart heavier. Because there's a lot of running thoughts in his head, Mint could mean he had chosen this. He had chosen him. And the responsibility of that choice felt more immense than the ocean on the screen.
So, he just tucked Mint into bed instead (a ritual Mint had come to expect), Seungcheol leaned down and, on a impulse of pure affection, pressed a soft, quick kiss to Mint’s forehead. “Goodnight, Mint.”
Mint’s eyes fluttered open. He looked up at Seungcheol, his gaze was soft. Then, with that same mimic’s curiosity, he reached up, cupped Seungcheol’s face, and pulled him down. He pressed his lips to Seungcheol’s. It was chaste, clumsy, and over in a second. It was cool and soft and tasted faintly of the sea.
They both pulled back, wide-eyed. Mint touched his own lips, a look of intense, earth-shattering wonder on his face. “A…?” he breathed, the question hanging in the air between them.
Seungcheol’s entire world had just been upended. All the data, all the logic, had led to this one, illogical, inevitable point.
“That’s…” Seungcheol stammered. “That’s for people who… Goodnight, Mint.”
He fled to the living room, ears burning and heart pounding a frantic, joyful, terrified rhythm against his ribs.
Actually, if you asked Seungcheol what it was that felt so unbearably heavy, the honest answer would be the thought of being apart from Mint. But that, of course, he’d deny—and bury the feeling he’d been carrying for the beautiful man for quite some time now. Why, though? We don’t really know the exact answer yet. Maybe he’s just stupidly, hopelessly in love.
°‧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
GROUP CHAT: [workaholicz] (6)
Soonyoung:
GUYS. YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT I SAW AT CHEOL'S APARTMENT.
Jihoon:
Did he finally buy a plant that isn't on the verge of death?
Soonyoung:
BETTER. A PERSON.
Wonwoo:
A person? In Cheol's apartment? Voluntarily?
Soonyoung:
YES. And not just any person. A BEAUTIFUL person. Like, ethereal. Long minty-blonde hair. Skin like porcelain. Looked like he just walked out of a fantasy manhwa!!
Mingyu:
Wait, what? Hyung has a secret love interest?? AND HE DIDN'T TELL US??
Soonyoung:
It was… intimate. The guy was wearing, like, ONLY Cheol's hoodie. And he was all sleepy and cuddly, just wandered out of the bedroom and leaned on Cheol like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Wonwoo:
wow, what fanfic is that?
Mingyu:
CHEOL HYUNG. EXPLAIN YOURSELF. @Seungcheol
Seungcheol:
@Mingyu Check your private messages.
Soonyoung:
SEE! HE’S HERE! CHEOL, WHO IS THE MYSTERY MAN?? IS HE SINGLE??
Jihoon:
Wow, zero reaction to the interrogation. Just straight to business with Mingyu. Cold.
Wonwoo:
The plot thickens.
°‧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Private Message: Seungcheol & Mingyu
Seungcheol:
That fishing trip month ago.
Mingyu:
Yeah? what about it?
Seungcheol:
What did you see? In the water. Specifically.
Mingyu:
Uh… water? Fish? My reflection because I’m handsome?
Seungcheol:
Mingyu. Please. This is important. Soonyoung said we saw a jellyfish and I couldn't remember.
Mingyu:
Okay, okay. Sorry. Uhm… There was that one really pretty jellyfish. Remember? Wonu hyung almost scooped it up by accident. It was white and kinda… minty? blue looking? Had those long, shiny tentacles. We were were really captivated by it. Why?
Seungcheol:
Do you have a picture?
Mingyu:
Ah, I don’t. But Hold on.
It looks like this, hyung.
Seungcheol:
Thanks.
Mingyu:
…What’s this about?
°‧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Back to: [workaholicz]
Soonyoung:
FINE. IF HE WON’T ANSWER, I’LL PROVIDE EVIDENCE.
Jihoon:
WOAH. Okay. He wasn’t kidding. He’s gorgeous.
Wonwoo:
Wait a minute. He does look familiar. But I can’t place it…
°‧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Private Message: Seungcheol & Mingyu
Mingyu:
CHEOL. DID YOU SEE THE GC???
Seungcheol:
I saw.
Mingyu:
WHAT IʼM THINKING RIGHT NOW... AM I CORRECT??
Seungcheol:
I kinda knew about it.
Mingyu:
WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU “KNEW”??? HAVE YOU EVER TRIED CONSULTING FIRST?
Seungcheol:
??
Mingyu:
CONSULT IF YOU FIT TO LIVE IN ASYMLUM!
Seungcheol:
I have data. He appeared the morning after the fishing trip. Naked in my tub. He doesnʼt have any records. No family found. He couldn’t speak. He didn’t know how to do anything. He tries to eat inanimate objects. He’s mesmerized by running water but terrified of the toilet flush. I showed him a Blue Planet documentary, and when I pointed to the ocean and said “home,” he got upset and pointed at me. He calls ME his home, Mingyu.
Mingyu:
This is… this is the most unhinged thing I have ever heard. But… the picture… the timing.. it’s too much to be a coincidence.
Seungcheol:
I know. What do I do? I can’t… I can’t keep him, can I That’s selfish! It’s like keeping a whale in a swimming pool. But the thought of letting him go…
Mingyu:
You need to talk to him! Properly! Figure out what he wants too!
Seungcheol:
He can barely form a sentence! How do I have that conversation? “Hey, are you the mesmerizing sea creature I accidentally kidnapped, and if so, do you want me to throw you back?” What if he says yes? What if he doesn’t? How is any of this real?!
Mingyu:
BRO! I donʼt even knoe the full context. You’re overcomplicating it! You’re panicking! Just… ugh! Do whatever you want, Seungcheol! But for the record, if you try to send that beautiful, ethereal man-jellyfish back to the sea without being 100% sure, you’re dumber than you look! I’m done!
Mingyu is offline.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
Mingyu’s words echoed in the silent apartment. “Do whatever you want.” But what Seungcheol wanted was the one thing his logic told him he couldn't have. He wanted Mint. He wanted him to stay.
He watched Mint sleep. He looked so peaceful, so human. The idea of taking him to the shore, felt like carving out his own heart. But the guilt was a heavier thing. He was a being of the vast, open ocean. Seungcheol’s apartment was a cage. So, Seunghceol made the decision. It was the only right thing to do. The responsible thing. He couldn't keep a high possiblity celestial ocean being trapped in a two-bedroom apartment, no matter how much joy he brought. The thought of Mint’s otherworldly light dimming in captivity was a constant, crawl of guilt.
What Seungcheol failed to see, blinded by his own sense of duty and a misunderstanding of what “home” meant, was that Mint was already trying to tell him. He had been telling him every day, in the only ways he could. When Mint learned the word "home," he didn't point out the window towards whatever where the sea is. He pointed at Seungcheolʼs chest, then at the sofa where they cuddled, then at their shared bed. “Home. Cheol. Home.”
Seungcheol would smile sadly, pat his head, and say, “I know youʼre comfortable here, Mint. But your real home is different. Itʼs big and blue and full of water you love.”
When Mint, with immense effort, strung together his first three-word sentence—“Stay with Cheol” —his eyes shining with pride and hope, Seungcheol felt his heart break. He hugged him tightly, whispering, “Iʼll always be your... friend.” and laugh bitterly, sounding so pathetic.
He was so busy trying to do the right thing for the jellyfish that he was completely missing the pleas of the man he had fallen in love with. Mintʼs attempts were met with a kind, loving, but firm wall of misunderstanding. The pining from Mintʼs side turned into a slow-burning ache of frustration. He felt the chasm between what he felt and what he could express, and it was a more deep loneliness than any he had known in the deep sea.
The plan formed in Seungcheolʼs mind: he would take Mint to a beautiful, secluded cove. He would make it a nice day, a foolish final, happy memory. And then he would gently encourage him back into the water. He convinced himself that once Mint felt the call of the ocean, he would remember, he would want to go. It would be a natural, peaceful transition. It was easier this way.
The day was oddly beautiful. The sun sparkled on the calm water of the hidden cove. Seungcheol held mint's hand as they walked along the shore, his heart a heavy, leaden weight in his chest. Mint, however, was radiant. He thought this was a date. A wonderful, romantic outing with the man he adore. He kept squeezing Seungcheolʼs hand, pointing at seashells with delighted “A!” and “Woah~” sounds, his smile brighter than the sun. This only made Seungcheol feel worse. He has no idea, he thought, his throat tight. It’s better this way. A clean break.
“Mint,” he began, his voice soft but obviously laced with a painful resolve. “Do you remember this? The ocean?”
Mint nodded, smiling. “Water. Big.”
“Yes,” Seungcheol said. He pointed to the vast expanse. “This is where you are from. This is your real home.”
Mintʼs smile faltered. He shook his head, his mint-and-vanilla hair swaying. “No.” He pointed firmly at Seungcheol. “Home. Cheol.”
The familiar, heartbreaking misunderstanding. Seungcheol took a deep, shuddering breath. “No, baby. Listen to me.” He didn't even notice the soft endearment that slip his mouth. He took both of Mintʼs hands in his, looking into his beautiful, confused eyes. “You need to go back. You canʼt stay with me forever. Itʼs not right. You belong here.”
He tugged gently on Mintʼs hand, trying to lead him toward the water. “Come on. Just… just go in. Youʼll remember. Youʼll be more happy.”
That was the moment the dam broke.
Mint yanked his hand back as if burned. The confusion on his face melted away, replaced by a raw, shocking wave of hurt and anger. The hope he had carried all day shattered into a million pieces.
"NO!" The word wasn't spoken; it was torn from him, a guttural, painful sound that was more than a simple refusal.
Seungcheol froze, stunned by the force of it. The jellyfish was trembling, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. All the words he had painstakingly learned, all the sentences he had practiced in his head, dissolved in the acid of his heartbreak. The complexity of his emotions was a tsunami, and his vocabulary was a childʼs sandcastle in its path.
“Cheol… stupid!” he cried out, tears now streaming down his face, what's worse is, itʼs the first time Seungcheol saw his tears, his cry. Mingling with the salt spray in the air. “You… you not see! You… blind!"
“Mint, please—”
“Home… HERE!” He slammed a fist against his own chest, over his heart. Then he pointed a trembling finger at Seungcheol. “You! You… home! Not… not water! You!”
He was gasping for air, his body wracked with sobs. He was trying to build a skyscraper with only a handful of bricks, and the frustration was tearing him apart.
“I… I learn! Words! For you! I stay… for you! I… I…” He struggled, his face a mask of anguish, searching for the biggest word, the most important word. He knew it. Seungcheol made him feel those when he was sad, when he was happy, when they spent their day cuddling on their couch, when they shared forehead kisses every night.
“Love!” he finally screamed, the word bursting forth like a supernova. “I LOVE! I LOVE CHEOL!”
He was crying uncontrollably now, his shoulders shaking. The anger was fading, leaving only the devastating, naked vulnerability beneath. “You… send me? Away? Why?… My home… is you. Only you. Always… you.”
He looked at Seungcheol, his eyes begging, pleading for understanding. “Please… don't… make me go. Please. Cheol… my home.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The only sounds were the waves, the gulls, and Mintʼs heartbroken weeping.
Seungcheol stood, utterly paralyzed. Every word, every broken, misconstructed sentence, had been a hammer blow to his soul. He had been so focused on the "what" that he had completely ignored the "who." He saw it all now—the pointing, the learned words, the desire to stay—not as the simple utterances of a child-like mind, but as the wise, desperate love letters of a being who had crossed worlds for him.
He saw the man, not the creature. He saw the heart, not the mystery. The logicality in him finally shut down, and only the man in love remained.
With a choked sob, Seungcheol stumbled forward and caught Mint just as his legs gave way. He didn't try to shush him or explain. He just held him, crushing him against his chest, his own tears falling into the mint-and-vanilla hair.
“Iʼm sorry,” he whispered, over and over again, his voice raw. “Iʼm so sorry. Youʼre right, Iʼm an idiot. Stupid idiot.”
He cupped Mintʼs face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “I see you. I understand you. I... I also want you... to stay. I thought Itʼll be selfish of me to keep you. I got scared and... and-”
He took a deep, shaky breath, pouring every ounce of his feeling into his words, making sure there was no room for misunderstanding. “You are my home, too, Mint. You. Right here.” He placed a hand over Mintʼs heart, mirroring his gesture. “I love you. I donʼt want you to go anywhere. Ever. Stay with me.”
The fight drained out of Mint, replaced by a wave of trembling relief. He collapsed against Seungcheol, his cries softening into hiccupping sobs. He clung to Seungcheolʼs shirt, his knuckles white.
“Cheol,” he whispered, his voice clearer than it had ever been. “I… remember.”
He took Seungcheolʼs hand, placing it over his own heart. “The ocean… not my-my first home. It was my… site. My… waiting room."
Seungcheol could only stare, captivated.
“I was… whale,” Mint said, the words coming slowly, pulled from a deep, ancestral well. “Big. Powerful. Lonely.” He then made a small gesture with his fingers. “Then… small. Tiny fish. Scared.” He looked out at the sea. “Coral. Beautiful. Still. Jellyfish… drift. No thoughts. Just… pulse. Just… beauty.”
He looked back at Seungcheol, his gaze intense and full of a love that was older than the sea itself. “I was… everything. In the sea. But I was… empty. No home. Alone. Changing. Waiting.”
A single, calm tear traced a path down his cheek. “Then… I saw you. Your eyes. Warm. But water cold. And.... and. You saw me... didn't see a thing. You saw… me.”
He brought Seungcheolʼs hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “The sea… it doesn't. Want me back, Cheol. It let me go. It was time. What I truly desired. Not whale. Not fish. Not jellyfish.”
He leaned forward, until their foreheads touched, his whisper a secret for only Seungcheol to hear.
"Time to be… yours."
In that moment, Seungcheol understood. This wasn't a curse or a random mutation. It was a culmination. Mint hadnʼt been trapped in a human form; he had chosen it. After lifetimes of drifting through forms, he had found a sanctuary not in a place, but in a person. His final, permanent shape was born from love.
Seungcheol didnʼt need any more data. The analysis was complete. The answer was in his arms. He kissed Mint, not as a man kissing a mystery, but as one soul greeting its other half after a long, long journey.
"Welcome home," Seungcheol whispered against his lips.
And for the first time in countless lifetimes, Mint was finally, completely, home.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
The drive back from the cove was quiet, but the silence was different. It wasn't filled with the possibility of the life they chose, but with the soft, awe-filled hum of a new beginning. Mintʼs head was resting on Seungcheolʼs shoulder, his eyes closed, but Seungcheol could feel the slight pressure in his hand where it was entwined with his own. It was the pressure of purification, of a soul-deep truth finally set free.
Once home, Seungcheol led him to the couch, wrapping a blanket around them both. He didnʼt press. He just held him, occasionally pressing a kiss to his mint-and-vanilla hair, letting the immensity of Mintʼs revelation settle around them like a stardust. After a long while, Mint stirred. He looked up at Seungcheol, his eyes clear and deep, no longer holding the frustration of being misunderstood, but a serene, ancient wisdom.
“Cheol,” he said, his voice still soft but steadier.
“Hm?,” Seungcheol whispered, his thumb stroking circles on Jeonghan's back. “You can tell me anything. We have forever.”
A small, wondrous smile touched Mintʼs lips at the word 'forever'. He nodded slowly. “The name… 'Mint'.” He touched his own hair. “Itʼs... pretty. Like... ice cream. But… not my name.”
Seungcheolʼs breath hitched. He had always known, in his heart, that 'Mint' was a placeholder, a pet name born from a charming characteristic. But to hear that Mint had a real name… it felt like the final key turning in a lock.
“You have a name?” Seungcheol asked, his voice full of respect.
Mint nodded. He closed his eyes, as if listening to a song only he could hear. “In deep… Ah, no! before shapes there.... sound? Vibration? First thing I knew. And it was… me.”
He opened his eyes, and they were glowing with a soft, internal light. “Not word, Cheol. Feelings. Reflection.”
He took Seungcheolʼs hand and placed it flat against his own chest, right over his heartbeat. “Feel,” he whispered.
Seungcheol closed his eyes, focusing. At first, there was just the steady, reassuring thump of a human heart. But then, beneath it, he felt something else. A subtle, harmonic vibration, like the faintest pluck of a celestial string. It was a feeling of gentle grace, of endless peace, of an affection so vast and deep it could calm a stormy sea. It was the essence of the serene whale, the fleeting beauty of the jellyfish, the steadfastness of the coral, all going together into a single, enchanted signature.
“Itʼs beautiful” Seungcheol breathed, his own eyes welling up. “It feels… like you.”
Mint smiled, a true, full smile that reached his eyes. “I saw you… and chose this? form… I knew needed word. Sound from you world... hold that feeling.” He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing Seungcheolʼs ear.
Jeonghan.
The name washed over Seungcheol, not just as a sound, but as a wave of that same feeling—gentle grace, endless peace, vast affection. It was perfect. It was him.
“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol repeated, the syllables feeling like a sacred prayer on his tongue.
At the sound of his true name, spoken with so much love, Jeonghan—Jeonghan—let out a soft, shuddering sigh, as if a final, invisible chain had fallen away. He buried his face in Seungcheolʼs neck.
“Yes,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “My name is Jeonghan.”
Seungcheol held him tighter, whispering the name again and again into his hair, each repetition a vow, a welcome, a blessing. “Jeonghan. My Jeonghan.”
One Year Later
The saltiness of the wind was a cold, welcome kiss on Seungcheol’s face. The fishing boat rocked gently beneath his feet. Seungcheol and his circle of friends are back on their fishing trip again. But this time, everything was different. This time, he has someone with him.
Jeonghan stood at the railing beside him, his mint-and-vanilla hair whipping in the sea breeze. He wore a bright yellow life jacket over his sweater, and his eyes, once filled with the innocent wonder of discovering a new world, now held a deeper awe. He was looking at the ocean not as a lost home, but as a beautiful, old friend.
“Big,” Jeonghan said, his voice clear and steady, though it still carried a unique, melodic lilt. A year of patient teaching, of conversations that stretched long into the night, had transformed his speech. He could now form sentences together, capturing the complex feelings inside him.
“It is,” Seungcheol agreed, slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. “Does it feel... strange? Being back?”
Jeonghan considered this, leaning his head against Seungcheol’s shoulder. “No. Not strange. More on... visiting a childhood house. Full of memories, but it doesn’t feel like mine anymore.” He turned his head, his nose brushing against Seungcheol’s jaw. “My home is right here.”
Seungcheol’s heart, as it always did when Jeonghan said things like that, swelled with a love so fierce it was almost painful.
The rest of their friends were scattered around the boat. Mingyu and Wonwoo were calmly taking photos of the surroundings, while Soonyoung was trying to teach Jihoon a sea shanty with wildly inaccurate lyrics. This trip had been Mingyu’s idea. A “re-do” of the fateful fishing trip, but this time, with their full, weird, wonderful family. A celebration.
“Hey, you two lovebirds! Stop being gross and help me!” Soonyoung yelled. “I think I caught a boot!”
Jeonghan laughed, its sound as bright and clear as sunlight on water. It tickled Seungcheol’s heart. He looked at Seungcheol, his eyes crinkling. “Let’s go save him.”
°‧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
GROUP CHAT: [workaholicz + 1 princess] (7)
Soonyoung:
OFFICIAL FISHING TRIP 2.0 PHOTO DUMP!!!
Seungcheol:
I look like a drowned rat in that 9th one. Delete it.
Soonyoung:
NEVER. IT'S CANDID. IT'S ART.
Mingyu:
Damn, who's that hottie at the last pic??
Wonwoo:
???
Mingyu:
TRAITOR.
Jeonghan:
My favorite was the little silver one that Cheol let go. It was so sparkly.
And the hot chocolate.
Seungcheol:
Of course you'd like the one we didn't keep. My little pacifist.
Jeonghan:
It told me it had family waiting! 🥺
Soonyoung:
...It told you?
Jeonghan:
In its eyes. 👀
Jihoon:
Never a dull moment.
°‧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Private Message: Seungcheol & Mingyu
Mingyu:
See? I told you this was a good idea.
Seungcheol:
I never said it wasn't.
Mingyu:
You had that "I'm overthinking the cosmic implications" look on your face all morning. But look at him. He's happy. He's not trying to jump back in. He's just happy to be here with you.
Seungcheol:
I know. It's just surreal sometimes. A year ago, I was trying to figure out how to send him back. Now, I can't imagine a single day without him.
Mingyu:
It's not surreal. It's destiny or whatever. Now, are you gonna do it or not?
Seungcheol:
Tonight. After everyone's gone.
Mingyu:
GOOD. Don't chicken out. Or I'll tell everyone you still sleep with that light-up octopus plushie he bought.
Seungcheol:
You wouldn't dare.
Mingyu:
Try me. 😈
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
Back at the shore, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the sky now painted in beautiful shades of violet and gold, the group started to scatter with promises to get dinner soon.
Seungcheol held Jeonghan back, his hand tight in his. “Wait a second. Let’s watch the sunset for a minute.”
The beach was vacant now, the only sound was the gentle shush of waves on the sand. They stood at the water’s edge, the cool foam brushing over their feet.
“It was a good day,” Jeonghan said softly, watching the colors mix into the sea.
“It was the best day,” Seungcheol corrected. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding against his ribs. He turned to face Jeonghan, taking both of his hands in his. “Han-ah.”
Jeonghan turned to him, his expression softening at the serious tone. “What’s wrong, Cheollie?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Everything is... perfect.” Seungcheol squeezed his hands. “A year ago, you stood on a shore like this and told me you’d been everything in the ocean. A whale, a coral, a jellyfish... all waiting to find a home. And you chose me.”
Jeonghan’s eyes began to glisten, sensing what was coming.
“You built a home in my heart, and you taught me how to build one in yours. You learned my world for me.” Seungcheol’s voice was thick with emotion. “So, I want to make a promise to you. A permanent one.”
He released one of Jeonghan’s hands and reached into his pocket, pulling out something small in it. He didn’t get down on one knee; that felt too much like supplication. This was an equal offering. What was inside his hand wasn’t a traditional diamond, but a beautifully crafted ring. The band was white gold, twisted to look like swirling water, and set in the center was a large, polished piece of opal that shimmered with a thousand colors—blue like the sea, green like the mint in his hair, and fiery reds and golds like the setting sun.
“It reminded me of you,” Seungcheol whispered. “Beautiful, unique, and full of hidden light.”
Jeonghan was crying openly now, silent tears tracking down his cheeks.
“Yoon Jeonghan,” Seungcheol said, his voice steady and sure. “My whimsical jellyfish, my beautiful man, my home. Who drifted through waves and wandered through endless seas. Please, let me join your journey, to stay by your side. Forever. Will you marry me?”
Jeonghan didn’t answer with words. But he launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Seungcheol’s neck and burying his face in his shoulder, nodding furiously against him. Who would’ve thought that Jeonghan would find his life outside the deep blue he had been wandering around.
“With me... forever,” he finally choked out, his voice muffled by Seungcheol’s jacket. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, Cheol.”
Seungcheol held him tight, laughing through his own tears of relief and joy. He slipped the ring onto Jeonghan’s finger, where it caught the last rays of the sun and shone with light. And their lips met—slow and tender, full of a thousand shared memories and the infinite future waiting beyond them. The ocean answered its approval behind them with the sound of the waves. The wind carried salt and sunlight through their hair, the air trembling as if the ocean itself exhaled in relief. It wasn’t calling him back. It was blessing him.
The ocean watched over the love of its wanderer son, who had spent lifetimes drifting through waves and loneliness, searching for something real to hold on to. At last, he had found it. Not in faraway shores or endless horizons, but in the warmth of a man’s arms, steady and certain as the tide. After ages of searching, he finally found a permanent sanctuary, to his home, his heart, his forever.
End