heart stuck in the mist

Pine Beach isn’t a tourist attraction. Mark knows that it’s exactly the opposite. Jagged rocks line the shore, treacherous cliffs surround the cove, and it sits in a perpetual state of gloom and fog. He’s never seen it as anything other than a gray mess of danger, but that was always half of the magic to him.

He picks through the forest that ended mere feet from the shoreline, listening to the tinkling laughter coming from the beach. The laughter stops when he steps on a pile of leaves and crunches them, but he doesn’t care much for the loss of the creatures the laughter belonged to. He hopes Jisung doesn’t get mad at him for it. The beach comes into view and with it comes the sight of Jisung staring out at the entrance of the cove. He comes closer, coming to a stop just behind him sitting on a rock, and watches the entrance with him. A wave crests from the shore outward and Mark thinks that he doesn’t miss their presence.

“You missed the kelpies,” Jisung says when the wave is out of sight, and his voice echoes in the silence and emptiness as Mark shrugs.

“You know we don’t get along, Sungie,” he mumbles, removing his hand from his sweater pocket and wrapping them around Jisung’s waist. He rests his head on Jisung’s shoulder and hums contently. “They hate me on principle anyway. Think I’m always stealing their prey.”

“Call me prey again and I’m kicking you out,” Jisung says without much bite, leaning back into Mark and leaning his head to the side. Mark takes advantage of that, nuzzling his nose against Jisung’s exposed neck, breathing in the scent of the woods and salty sea mixing together.

“Can’t help it,” he whispers, enjoying the way Jisung shivers from his warm breath fanning along the side of his neck. “Force of habit, Sungie.”

“Well, make it not so habitual,” he retorts in an attempt to draw attention away from his flustered expression. Mark smiles lazily, leaning in to steal a quick kiss, nothing more than a brush of cold, chapped lips. Jisung lets him, but immediately after he smacks his arm, annoyed. “Stop distracting me, I’m trying to be mad at you.” He huffs a laugh, settling against Jisung’s shoulder again. The wind tosses his hair around, rearranging the black strands as it wished, and it’s as he lets his senses wander in the quiet that he notices Jisung shivering in his arms. He frowns, suddenly aware of the cold that he’d earlier dismissed.

“Are you cold?” he mumbles, and even though Jisung says “No, it’s not that bad,” Mark remembers the last time he’d taken Jisung’s word for this situation and how sick he’d gotten the day after. “You’re cold. Hold on, I’ll take my sweater off.”

“Wait, it’s ok Mark–,” Jisung begins, turning around to face him, but Mark’s muffled words interrupt him while he’s pulling the sweater off.

“You know I’m better used to the cold than you, Sungie,” Mark argues, handing the pale bluish-gray sweater to him. The teal and violet scales lining his arms glint dully even with the cloudy weather. Jisung takes it reluctantly and slips it over his head. He looks cute with it, Mark notes, because his shoulders are a little narrower than his own, and so it hangs off of his body more.

“Cute,” he says, taking pride in the new blush that colors Jisung’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” he whines, grabbing Mark’s arms and pulling him closer. A satisfied smile crosses his face and he slings his arms over his shoulders.

“Maybe you could make me,” he suggests, and although Jisung huffs and rolls his eyes, he complies. He pulls Mark further down to kiss him, both hesitant and purposeful, and he can’t help but smile as their lips touch again. He sinks into it, slipping a cold hand under the sweater to trace small circles against his waist. Jisung brings his hand up to Mark’s neck and uses his thumbs to trace Mark’s jawline. Jisung’s lips may be chapped but they’re still as plump as always, and Mark gets a little adventurous and nips them. He relishes the gasp that follows, pulling away and tilting his head mischievously.

“Not a word,” Jisung warns. He mimes zipping his mouth closed, stifling his laughter. Jisung grabs his hands and fits his fingers in between his own. “Your hands are too cold.” Mark tilts his head, asking silently what he wants to do about it. Jisung answers with his own silence, slipping both of their hands into the sweater pocket. “Perfect.”

They fall into their own thoughts, and Mark wonders if things would have been different if Donghyuck hadn’t dared him to swim south, if he hadn’t torn his wings off to escape from the rocks that had trapped him, if Jisung hadn’t found him three years ago bleeding and half-conscious. He wonders if maybe he would have continued doing what his parents wanted him to, to marry Seulgi and secure a place as royalty on the throne. He wonders if he would be able to even imagine being this content with that life.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just wondering some things,” he says vaguely. “Did I ever tell you about my wings?” Jisung shakes his head in response and Mark widens his eyes in surprise. “Really? Three years and I haven’t said anything about them?”

“I never asked,” Jusung murmured, reaching over Mark’s shoulder to run his fingers along the healed ridges where the wings used to be. “You always looked so distressed when they got brought up, so I never did.”

“I didn’t know I did that.” He rests his forehead on Jisung’s head and shuts his eyes. “They were black, like charcoal. Not quite like my hair, a few shades lighter.” Jisung’s hand moves to twirl a few strands with his finger. “They were almost a foot and a half longer than my arms, and I never realized how much strength they gave me just by existing until I didn’t have them. We’re creatures of the ocean, Sungie, so we never used them, but they were comforting.” He breathes deeply, centering himself again instead of getting swept up in the pain. “I miss them sometimes. I miss them because they remind me of Donghyuck.”

“Who was he?” he asked softly. “You talk about him so sadly.”

“My best friend, but he was always more than that. He knew me better than anyone else bothered to, and I think sometimes that he knew I wasn’t going to come back when he first dared me to journey this far south. That he dared me because he knew how miserable I was and took action on my part.”

“I’m sorry you can’t go back to see him,” Jisung said, pulling him closer and nuzzling his head into Mark’s chest. “You’ve given up so much.”

Mark looks out to the cove, imagining the expansive ocean beyond it. He thinks about how he used to swim through it, wearing the water like a second skin, about how being with Donghyuck felt like a breath of fresh air in a pressurized existence.

He tightens his arms around Jisung. “I don’t regret any part of it. Even losing the powers of my song was worth making it out of that hell,” he says bittersweetly. He kisses Jisung’s forehead and moves back, locking his fingers around Jisung’s wrist to pull him forward. “Come on, let’s go back home. It’s too cold for you out here.” Jisung pushes himself up and jumps down from the rock, removing his wrist from Mark’s hold to lock fingers again.

“Sing me for again?” And when Jisung gives him those wide, innocent eyes, Mark knows he’s too weak to resist.

The other half of the magic of Pine Beach lies in Park Jisung, and he’s the reason Mark stayed.

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