Guys hear me out. "Into the Open Air" from Brave fits Seungin. I do not take criticism

Hyunjin was sulking.

Again.

"What have I done..."

Where he laid himself flat on the ground. Back kissing flushed against the harsh planks of the main deck, his palms by his sides pressed flat and wide against the solid surface, his earthen eyes blown disproportionately open as he stared up at the powdered blue skyline above him. Where he had purposefully crawled from the galley beneath the decks, hauling himself to get dressed in his usual opulence and needless amount of jewelry, only to immediately plop down in the same spot he had been laying in for the last two days. If he laid there any longer, Jeongin was convinced they would find a Hyunjin shaped dent on the deck when he stood up again. If he ever stood up again. As the days went on, that seemed less and less likely.

Jeongin's day, in contrast, was wonderful. He woke up after a pleasant dream and sleeping soundlessly through the night. Ate a massive bowl of warm rice and a slab of butter on top. Had a few strips of bacon. A big cup of water. And delicious pieces of ginger pickled radish. He got up, saw Seungmin and greeted him with a smile, the First Mate complimented his outfit that day, they both went their opposite directions. He got to chat with Minho while the naga was polishing up a sword, then went off to bother Changbin and Felix. Where the two had been standing on the forecastle deck the entirety of the morning. Leaning over the railings to watch a certain dragon pouting. Their conversation put on hold as Changbin scoffed, "He's there again."

When Jeongin folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the post of the foremast behind him, finding a stable stance between Changbin (propping his elbows up on the railing) and Felix (where a subtle hand from him was running back and forth over the post), Felix turned back to Jeongin. Scrunching his face up. Every inch of it, folding and wrinkling up, as if the prince had tasted a foul stench of rotten lemon or something of the type. Jeongin wasn't 100% certain what he was trying to say to him, but he was 95% certain the silent action was a complaint about Hyunjin's presence on the galleon and the fact the dragonkin had been complaining nonstop.

The trouble is, Hyunjin was a pretty decent guy. From the few conversations Jeongin had with him in passing over the last few days. He was pretty nice, a fairly compassionate person. And wise. Sort of like Chan. Sort of like, well, a dragon.

But...

"I don't want to smell bad..." His voice carried over the gentle breeze, a weak sob hidden in the midst of his whining underneath his breath. Probably for fear that the Fae would hear his inability to be quiet for more than ten seconds.

He was also very...

"My hair..."

Vain.

"Dragons are vain creatures. Immature too," Changbin finalized with another one of those irritated and heavy sighs tumbling from his lungs. To an extent. Jeongin sort of understood his frustration with the guy now. Not to the same amount that Changbin had, but he could understand why they would think he's annoying after a while. But again, not to the same degree the warlock insisted. Irked beyond belief, Changbin stood up from the railing and turned away, heading for the stairs of the forecastle deck as he bounded down the stairs. Nearly marching in his steps over to Hyunjin to nudge him with the tip of his boots, "Hey, dragonkin. Are you going to get your lazy ass up and help us or are you going to be useless the whole time you're here?"

"Lazy and useless... I can't do this, Changbin," Came the weak response from Hyunjin, hardly acknowledging the warlock nudging him between his rib cage to make him stand up. Staying rooted in his spot stubbornly as he whined, "I'm not meant for the life of a pirate. I'm too beautiful for that..."

Slowly, the dragonkin's head lulled to look up at Changbin. The irked scowl he had pinching his face down.

But Hyunjin gasped.

He sprung back to life in a second, sitting up straight from the ground he had been previously glued to in protest of his being dragged along. With a newfound excitement rushing through the dragonkin, he grabbed the warlock's hand up in his own, "Changbin! Say, little witchy boo, you know magic, don't you? Can't you do me a favor sweetheart, please get rid of the promise!"

"I don't know how to nullify fae magic," The warlock mercilessly tore his hand away from Hyunjin. *Note: This is a lie, by the way, Jeongin has seen Changbin 'nullify' Chan's magic on more than one occasion. Usually by pure accident trying to achieve something else. Still. He can do it.

"You people are so cruel! When we dock in port, I'm telling on you for kidnapping me," Hyunjin waved him off. Slumping back down onto the ground with a huff as he curled up onto his side. Tucking his arms around his body and bringing his knees closer to his chest to seal himself off from any more interaction from anyone else. He looked like... a puppy. A dejected, upset, rejected puppy who didn't get their treat after dinner like usual and was now grumpy about it. And you know, again, Jeongin understood his frustration to a certain extent: Living on the galleon was possibly the hardest thing Jeongin has ever done, it wasn't a lifestyle for someone who wasn't determined to do it. He knows he wouldn't have willingly thrown himself into this way of life if he had initially been given a choice (He loves it now but that's beside the point).

Even from where they were posted leagues away from the two, Jeongin could see the intense eyes roll from the warlock. He could practically feel it as well. The pure amount of frustration and annoyance that was sitting on Changbin's shoulders as he turned away from Hyunjin with a murmur of, "Spoiled brat."

"YOU'RE SO MEAN!" The dragonkin spiked, scrambling up onto his feet from the floor as he fought back, "Binnie? More like... MEANIE!"

"Rich asshole!"

"BARBARIAN!"

"PRISSY BASTARD!"

"HEATHEN! I'LL KILL YOU AFTER I SKIN THE FAE," Liquid fire poured from Hyunjin's mouth at the threat, the flickers of fires sparking at the tips of his fingers igniting into balls of wrath in his hands.

"YOU DARE CHALLENGE ME WITH FLAMES?" Changbin mocked him. His runic tattoos glowing with indigo as sparks of a fire grew underneath his skin as well. "I CAST FIREBA-"

A golden barrier sliced between them.

Firmly rooting the pair in place as their magic was quelled in an instant. Unwillingly being stopped by a strange, gold, sparkly mist that settled over the deck. Chan. Of course, Chan. The fae, where he suddenly appeared as he usually does on the main deck with a few chuckles. That same cheeky smile on his lips as he lectured them, "And that's enough. Before either of you burn my ship down and have to afford a replacement for the galleon itself and everything on board, which I sincerely doubt either of you would be able to do, I suggest you both calm down, return to your own chores around the deck, and stop. Do you understand me?"

They both fell quiet. Murmurs of apologies underneath both of their breaths until the barrier between them fell and the mist was lifted. The Captain brushing his hands off with a few claps, a 'hmpf' turning him around, before he left them to their own devices on the main deck. Running off to do whatever it was the fae did on his normal day while he left Changbin and Hyunjin to awkwardly separate. Going their own ways with glares and scowls shot between them.

Well, one thing was for certain. With Hyunjin joining the crew, things were certainly about to get a lot louder.

Jeongin and Felix could only exchange a glance. A few chuckles and a snort suppressed from watching the engagement, before they went their own ways as well. There was enough to do around the decks than to worry about Changbin and Hyunjin's issues (Which, Jeongin thought Hyunjin liked Changbin? Wasn't that why he wanted a kiss from the warlock? Why were they arguing and threatening to burn each other?), so Jeongin went about his own business. Occupying his hours with ease around the galleon, until long after the sun had fallen far underneath the horizon.

Until long after he had grown sleepy with the activity of the day.

Until long after he had bid a fond farewell to the others,

And laid down beneath the decks to sleep.

Tainted water runs against the current,

Where drops fall stale in the rain,

Branches reach for the sunlight,

But the blight decays what little blossoms

Jeongin lurched awake.

In the faint darkness of the groaning hold, the lanterns hung around the space to find their way even in the settled night, his eyes couldn't focus. Blurring together the lights as he squinted to focus through the abrasive feeling in his gaze. In the back of his head, a dizziness that reeled him down into the pillow beneath his head. The steady rocking being washed down into his spine, into his stomach, every nerve in his body lit alight on an open ended fire. He was sweating, mucky stickiness that stuck him to his blankets and to his soaked shirt, roasting from the heat that surged through him, but he was shivering, frigid and cold from the chills pricked into his arms. He was dizzy, and cold, and hot, and there were ants on his skin, why is his body so itchy, why do I feel so weird-

There was a shadow next to him too, a silhouette of a person crouched beside him, watching him while he slept, were they the reason he felt like this?! Were they doing something to him, was it magic what was happening to him? Why were they getting closer to him, why were they touching his arm what-

"Jeongin, calm down, it's me. It's Jisung," The shadow, when his eyes started to focus ever so slightly on the presence through the aches and cloudiness blocking his vision, really was the selkie. Jisung, sitting beside him on his knees, his hand outstretched as he pressed his knuckles into Jeongin's arm, "Minho woke me up and said you looked sick. He's right, you're not looking too okay, do you feel like you're getting sick?"

Settling back into the pillow beneath his head now that he knew his life was not on the line (Seriously, when did he get so paranoid too!?), he only now realized just how damn sweaty he was. No, he didn't feel particularly top of class either. More like he was dragged through mud, spit on, dump in molten lava, then abandoned on a snowy mountaintop. Disoriented, groggy, and sick. Was he sick? Man, that's got one hell of a kick to it if he's getting sick. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to arch his back away from the sweat on his spine as he groaned, "I feel like I'm dying. The last time I felt this bad was when I ate moldy Dinonuggets and went to the hospital for food poisoning. I was stuck in the ICU for two weeks. I've never eaten dinonuggets again. My favorite food made me ill, just like that."

Jisung turned his head over his shoulder, "He's saying weird things, do you think he's fevered?"

"If he's saying weird things he's fine," Came the response from someone behind him. The voice that Jeongin could easily pin point as Minho.

"Thank you for your overwhelming heaps of sympathy for me, Minho, I can feel the warmth of your love through the chill of my icy, frozen heart," Jeongin sarcastically jeered toward the naga, earning himself back a soft scoff and a smile he could detect even over the underlying drone of his senses going haywire. Sensitive to the light, sensitiv to the itching on his skin, the shuffling of the voices, his heartbeat racing inside of his ears, was this about his dream? What was going on with him? He gently shoved the blankets off his body, grabbing a light coat he kept by his bedroll, amiably bumbling to find his jelly legs, "I think I'm okay. I'm going to step outside. I need some air."

Though the other two exchanged a worried look between themselves, they allowed him to slip away. Briefly slipping the coat to hide the sweaty fabric of his shirt clinging to his shoulders as he stumbled along. Carefully taking mind to not accidentally step on top of the ever increasing amounts of crew-mates beneath the decks now. Feeling about as unsteady on his jellied legs and unhinging achy knees as a blackout drunk on a binge after four months of sobriety, he managed to weasel his way along the steerage by gripping onto the wall with the clammy sweat colliding onto the cool wood. Finding each wobbly step stumbling and stuttering as he set them down under the guise of his lack of coordination. Carefully... Carefully... Until his fingers brushed along the thick steps of the ladder leading up from beneath the deck.

Where he could be freed onto the main decks, closing down the hatch behind him to not allow the crystalline chill of the nightfall to settle down into the others trying to rest undisturbed. Where he could wander mindlessly; Beneath a canopy of rippling fabrics and course rope riggings knocking against one another in a melody that rustled like the susurration of treetops in the autumn; The watchful eye of the moon that echoed reflections of it's brilliance against the mountaintops of the peeking waves, what legends that celestial body had witnessed in it's lifetime, stories that Jeongin could only dream of; Where he tugged the opening of the coat around his body, trying to protect himself from the breeze that nipped at his ankles, rubbing against his shins, an old friend welcoming him home.

He had never seen the stars as clearly as he could from the forecastle of the galleon. His steps dragging to his usual spot by the side of the ship purely by mindless habit, a broken record where he could lean on the railings and peer at the stars above them. Constellations splattered in the darkness, like electrical filaments burning, mimicking suns inside the inversion of their glass cage; Candles forgotten long ago as a lightbulb hummed, though he couldn't hear their reminiscent noise from the distance he stood at. Cages contained with stories, legends, myths, the Gods. They withheld the sparks, showing the way until the tomorrow sun. He had never seen the stars as brilliantly from the cities where he used to live.

With every inhale of the fresh ocean wind, the queasiness subsided inside of him. The sickness that infected him beginning to drown out as his heartbeat settled and the world came into view for him once more. Though he still felt strangely strangled by a muggy humidity that sat underneath his sink. What caused him to feel like this? Was he truly sick? Did he accidentally catch a bug from one of the others that they were immune to and he wasn't because he wasn't use to their illnesses here? Oh Gods, what if he got food poisoning again!! Not the food poisoning!! Anything but the food poisoning!!!

Was it... his dream? How could he even begin to describe the oddity of it... Sort of, disjointed and floaty, unlike most of his other dreams when he slept. What was it even about? What did he see? Some glowy tree... rivers... flowers... flower blossoms... huh??? What was he even supposed to make of how vague that shit was? Yet something felt so odd about it, nostalgic and familiar, he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

But, wasn't it similar? To what he saw when he touched the statue in Miroh.

"Is everything alright?"

Jeongin glanced over to the new addition. Seungmin. Duh. Who else would it be to find him in such a cheesy way. Were they going to have their super romantic kdrama moment now underneath the stars with the moon as their witness? He really fucking hoped so. It was about time.

Especially when Seungmin looked as good as he did; As he climbed up the stairwell to join him on the forecastle deck, Seungmin had his typical trousers and boots on-while his usual sapphire scarf was tied up around his thigh, but the main point of interest was his shirt he had been dressed in wind that morning; A sort of cape blouse that Jeongin had never seen him in before, solid linen of a hazy mist crème that sat comfortably off his collarbones, and the sheer voil fabric that completed the shirt's sleeves in a sort of draped cape by his elbows; The outfit something like an angel would wear, and Jeongin could have convinced himself over and over again that the First Mate was nothing short of godly. He was so... radiant and... regal, elegant and stunning, like the most beautiful storm that settles over a rocky shoreline.

"Yeah, yeah I think so. Just... just a weird dream shook me up," Jeongin nearly hit himself in the head. Focus. Focus, focus, focus! Don't start thirsty over hot man again! He's sick! Not feeling good! Needs to feel better! But fuck, Seungmin was so distracting. His ability to derail every one of Jeongin's thoughts coming into play again as he came to stand beside him. Arms tucked neatly across his chest, bracelets around his wrists ever so slightly disturbed, the knot that kept the scarf around his thigh from slipping down while it's tail trailed in the headwinds, Jeongin had to force himself to look away to speak properly, "Why are you awake?"

"Chan needed my help reorganizing his cabinet. A wave knocked the trinkets off and he had to set up the display again. And because he sees me more like a son to make do child labor instead of a human being, it was my duty to help him," Seungmin... complained? He couldn't tell. It seemed like the First Mate was irked by Chan and everything the fae did (Made Seungmin do too), yet he spoke fondly of him behind closed doors. Like a father figure? A very annoying, mischievous, half-present father figure? He didn't have much time to linger on it before Seungmin was stepping closer to him, "Your dream, was it a nightmare? Is it something you want to talk about?"

A nightmare? No. Definitely not. Jeongin got enough nightmares in his lifetime to know what being startled awake felt like. Personally, this statement will clearly change from person to person so Jeongin advises to take it with a grain of salt, but if he isn't being chased by clowns with pool noodles in his dream then he is clearly not having a nightmare. Oh yeah, and when he's suddenly invisible and can't be seen by anyone. Those are nightmares too. Those suck. Kool-Aid man, heights, um... a clown with a pool noodle looking for him because he's invisible, then Kool-Aid man pops out of a wall and pushed him off a height, that would be a crazy ucking nightmare but Jeongin was sure he'd wake up in a panic attack if that happened.

So, no, not nightmare. This was rather pleasant. If it wasn't for waking up on the verge of dying, he would say the dream itself was strangely cozy. Comfy? Scenes he's never seen before, a humidity he's never felt before, the rushing of waterfalls he'd never heard before: But an ease in his heart that told him those were all real. How could he even begin to describe something so strange...?

Still, Seungmin was waiting for him to give some sort of an answer. So, pathetically, he tried the best he could to summarize, "Do you ever see... Images? Pictures? Feelings that tell you things? Where I'm from, we call it deja vu. But I've never had a feeling like this before."

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say Jeongin," At least he's honest, there's definitely that positive. Thankfully Seungmin didn't try to come up with some answer and instead gave it to him bluntly. The slight frown that tugged down on the First Mate's lips as his eyes gazed so deeply into Jeongin even in the darkness of the night he thought he may collapse apart, "There's nothing like that, that I know of. Not that you or I would be capable of experiencing."

Of course, he doesn't know what the fuck you're talking about you lunatic.

Jeongin nodded a weak response back, simply returning himself to staring out at the far horizons in the shadowed ends of the world.

Maybe Chan knows...? He seems like the kind of guy to know freaky things like that.

Something cold touched the back of his neck.

On flight or fight instinct, Jeongin nearly jerked away from the strange touch. Nearly. He definitely did flinch at the sudden temperature plummet against his skin, but more than that. He just. Snapped his head. To Seungmin. Where the First Mate had scooted ever so slightly closer to him and set the back of his hand against the sweat coating his nape, murmuring underneath his breath as he did, "You're burning up...?"

"I'm exhausted," He answered him with a soft chuckle. Which, true. He would like to sleep. He loves his sleeping. Very much. However, he is also being touched in a completely innocent and PG family friendly manner by the only and only Kim Seungmin and he did not want to give up on the moment just because he needed sleep! He refused to give up on the chance to have alone time with the one and only Seungmin before anyone could put up a barrier between them! He was going to let Seungmin touch him and he was going to enjoy it, damn it!! No one can stop him! He was determined to indulge in the giddiness this moment brought him!

Like a fucking schoolgirl with a crush on a popular idol, he was weak. Strangled, gagged of air, choked, he is so helpless. For the First Mate; For the twitch of his smile with jeers on his tongue, confident and assertive in such elegance he folded every single time, ruler of the High Seas when he stood at the top of the masts and king of the Skies when he walked alone on the main deck. He was so unbelievably, collapsing apart for him. And yes, he had been in love before in his life, but this was... this was so much more than anything he had felt within him before. So much more vivid and vibrant, saturated with the colors of something like admiration careening into the taste of fondness on his tongue.

Like there was another sort of magic, tied from his hand to Seungmin's that dragged him to the First Mate. Like his heart was a compass that somehow always pointed to him.

"You could use my bed for the night if you would like," Seungmin offered for him. While Jeongin busied with rotating himself in his own spot, leaning his back against the railing of the forecastle as his hands balanced him against the supports behind; The First Mate's hand stayed rooted. Sort of. While he used it to bring them closer, to the point if he stepped in once more they would be pressed flush against one another. How familiar he thought that should have been, yet an inability to recall or know what that would feel like with him causing Jeongin to stay inside of his hands. Where his palm trailed, coming to settle on the crux of his neck instead, "I can sleep below deck."

For the record, Jeongin loved neck touches. Lips, hands, arms, cheeks, he was a sucker for innocent physical touches against the neck. Seungmin resting the cool of his palm against his sweaty skin, on his neck, felt like fucking paradise. Where his fingers hovered, his heartbeat picked up speed within his veins. But truthfully, every part of Jeongin hoped the First Mate knew he caused such a crisis inside of his heart. He wished he knew what he was feeling inside of his heart, he wished he knew he was inside of his thoughts like a virus he had caught, he wished he knew... and he wished that it meant what he felt was true and just.

Who was he kidding? Seungmin knew exactly how much of a disaster Jeongin was for him. He knew exactly how much of an affect the smallest of his words had on his mind, he knew his thoughts were scrambled as soon as he complimented or called him nicknames, he knew the type of power his touch had over him. He knew how badly his breath caught in his lungs and hitched until he couldn't breath as the First Mate slowly, hesitantly, uttered to him, "Pretty boy, you can embrace me. If you would like to. I won't stop you, no one else will right now either."

He got the underlying message. Chan is too busy to care about what they were doing, and it was too dark to really see.

So, Jeongin yielded to him. Giving in, again and again to him, he was weaker than anyone else he knew. For his hands left the railings behind and he wrapped his arms tightly around Seungmin again. Where his hands found their same spots on the small of his back (Listen, it was probably a little bit too intimate considering they weren't that close, but the First Mate seemed to like it, judging by the unsteadiness of his exhale and the manner in which he pressed himself closer to Jeongin). He didn't seem to mind it, and he didn't pull away either as both of his arms came to loop loosely around Jeongin's neck. A sort of sloppy yet undeniably warm embrace that huddled them together under the constellations witnessing them.

Man. I really hope Chan is busy and doesn't see me flirting with his "son".

But he could tell, when he pressed his hand into the First Mate's back, he responded in kind by ever so softly arching into him. He could tell, when Seungmin buried his face into the crux of his neck, the warmth on his cheeks was accompanied by the thundering of his heartbeat.

Whatever that compass inside of his heart, that needle that spun wildly in different directions and never found its poles, that pointed him to the edge of the maps and back once more, it had found itself at rest.

So, either way he honestly didn't give a shit if they were seen or not. For this? He would take the lecture anytime.

𓇼༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ ⋆｡ ˚ ༝𓇼