between land and sea (OT12, Kai/Lay)
between land and sea
OT12, Kai/Lay
4,500w
An unexpected thunderstorm de-rails EXO's photoshoot on Jeju Island. Alternately titled: five times Jongin makes a move and once when he doesn't.
between land and sea
First comes thunder. The six of them are laid out in the center of their hotel suite when they hear the low growl in the distance, a shadow descending across the open windows like a heavy curtain. Their manager paces in front of the doorway and frowns; he takes a few steps toward the window, then stops, pausing to scrutinize the ominous color of the clouds before tapping at his phone screen.
"That's strange," he mutters. "None of the weather reports predicted rain for today."
"Monsoon season doesn't start for another couple weeks, right?" Joonmyun sits up in his armchair and smoothes back his hair, as if the worry in Seunghwan's voice has made him suddenly realize that now is one of those moments where he should try to act the part of a leader. Jongin stretches out one leg to purposely tip Joonmyun's suitcase to the floor, hiding a grin when it topples perfectly over Baekhyun's toe, who immediately yelps and knocks Chanyeol in the nose with an elbow. Jongin pillows his head innocently on Kyungsoo's stomach and turns his face the other way when Kyungsoo clicks his tongue in disapproval.
Another rumble sounds from outside, louder and nearer this time, the darkening sky keeping pace with the falling temperature. Jongin can almost feel the looming moisture on his skin, the air already several degrees cooler than when they arrived in Seongsan a few hours ago.
Sehun props up his chin from where he's swathed himself with blankets on the other side of the sofa. "When is M getting in?"
"Their plane just landed in Jeju City," Seunghwan answers, still distracted. "They should be on the drive over now."
Lightning flashes across the sky, followed by another threatening crack of thunder, and Seunghwan frowns at his phone some more before telling them to stay inside for the rest of the afternoon. The rain manages to hold off until an hour later, starting with hesitant fat droplets and rapidly dissolving into into sheets of downpour. M's van pulls into the parking lot shortly afterward, and Jongin watches from the window as the hotel staff run out to help unload suitcases and crates of camera equipment. Lu Han hops out of one side of the van, holding his backpack over his head like a shield and making a dash for the hotel entrance, not noticing that he's left the van door gaping open. Yixing shakes his head and slides it closed after him.
Everyone is dripping wet by the time they stumble into the suite with their bags, laughter mixing with protests as water is flicked in every direction. Zitao peels off his soaked shirt as soon as he drops his suitcase, and Baekhyun pokes him in the stomach, telling him to stop showing off. Hyunkyun and Seunghwan huddle together to the side, their heads bent over a stack of schedules and papers, voices hushed.
Kris looks out the window at the distorted view, where the rain has washed away any semblance of the beach and surrounding trees, and remarks, "This is rather unexpected."
"Probably just a freak thunderstorm." Joonmyun comes up behind him, offering a towel, which Kris misses. "I'm sure it'll pass soon."
That's when the lights cut out.
1-
"What are they going to do about the photoshoot?" Baekhyun holds his hand steady, carefully touching the lit match to the tip of the musty candles that hotel reception dug up from a storage room. The wick falters, as if afraid the dark will swallow it whole, before a flame finally blooms around the wax. Baekhyun lets out a sigh of relief.
"We have the photographer and the equipment, so they'll probably go ahead with it," Chanyeol reasons. He has the hood of his oversized sweatshirt pulled up over his eyes so that all Jongin can see in the dim room is the flash of his white teeth whenever he opens his mouth to talk. "I heard Seunghwan-hyung say that Jeju airport shut down, though. It's not taking any flights from Seoul for the next day. Guess that means SHINee's not joining us tomorrow."
"I watched a movie like this once," Baekhyun says, bringing the candle below his chin, the light licking up to paint a ghoulish pattern over his features. "Everyone died in it."
"Who's going to die?" Zitao demands, popping his head out the bathroom door and jabbing the toothbrush clutched in his hand into the air like a sword.
Kris hooks an arm sharply around Baekhyun's neck, earning him an indignant squawk. "You two, control yourselves."
Jongin noiselessly slips out of the suite, using the illuminated screen from his cell phone to feel his way down the hallway. The stairway leading down to the lobby is lit with propped-up flashlights, and he sits down on the top step, the rest of the rooms eerily quiet. He pockets his phone, pauses for a suspended second, and takes it out again, his finger hovering over the keypad. One more second, stretching into two, before he presses down on the speed-dial. Taemin answers on the third ring.
"I'm using the last of my phone battery to call you, so feel special," Jongin starts, pitching his voice low so it won't carry into the lobby.
"I'm always special," Taemin retorts. There's white noise in the background from his side, sounds of static and muffled shouts.
"I heard about your flight. Are you taking a later one?"
"Don't think so. We have a schedule in Japan in two days, so it looks like we're flying straight there."
Jongin's shoulders drop, and he kicks at the next step, accidentally upturning a flashlight. He bites his lip when it clatters down the stairs, spinning spots of light on the wall as it falls. "What about the photoshoot?"
"It's just a company photobook." Taemin's voice grows indistinct, and Jongin hears shuffling, then a soft thud. "They'll probably have us shoot somewhere else later."
"We were supposed to try windsurfing together, though." Jongin kicks at the step again, careful this time not to upset another flashlight.
"Go surfing with your bandmates," Taemin laughs. "Aren't there eleven of them? Look, I have to get back to practice, but we'll make it happen another time, okay?"
His phone beeps at him, the red battery symbol blinking angrily in the top corner, and he reluctantly ends the call. Overhead, he can still hear the rhythmic drumming of rain on the roof, then the sharp whistling of wind beating against the thin walls. Jongin has never dealt very well with disappointment, but sitting in the half-dark in the middle of an unending thunderstorm on an island 500 kilometers too far away, he thinks how this is only the first and probably not the last time he'll have to adjust expectations for the next few days.
2-
The sky is calm again by the time they wake up the next morning, and they have breakfast on the elevated patio facing the ocean, bare feet on cool wooden planks. Jongin ends up sandwiched between Joonmyun and Sehun, their knees pushed close together in an attempt to fit everyone around the table, and it always feels like a battleground whenever all twelve eat together, their chopsticks warring over bowls of rice and sea urchin soup. The hotel's back entrance feeds directly onto the beach, and Jongdae slyly kicks up a spray of wet sand at Kris' shins, then innocuously points at Baekhyun when Kris spins around to glare darkly.
The rain had kept Jongin up late into the night, and he dangles his arms over the railing after breakfast is cleared, letting the dead weight of his body hang like a lumbering windchime swaying in the breeze. A yawn fights its way up his throat, and he's debating whether it's too soon in the day for a nap when Zitao squeezes next to him on the railing. Jongin flops over obligingly.
"The hotel hosts a yoga class on the beach in the morning! Yixing-hyung and I want to check it out." The words tumble out on top of each other, as if his excitement refuses to be constrained by language limits, and there's a slight stutter when Zitao shyly adds, "You should come. It'll be good for your waist."
Jongin chews on the inside of his cheek, thoughtful. "Okay, sounds fun."
Zitao looks pleased and bumps their shoulders together, saying, "I'll find you when we go," before disappearing down the steps toward the beach and taking off after the retreating figures of Baekhyun and Kris in the distance. Sehun passes Jongin on the stairs going up, hopping awkwardly on one foot as he tries to dust sand off the back of his calves, and Jongin reaches out to sneakily hook a finger in one of Sehun's belt loops to give a sharp tug, grinning when Sehun lurches backward and trips over both his feet.
Sehun pummels him in the chest, scowling. "What do you want, loser."
"Later, yoga on the beach." Jongin pushes back from the railing and wedges his elbow into Sehun's chest, wrinkling his nose when some sand shakes loose from the collar of his shirt.
Sehun's face smoothes itself out. "Can't. I'm going to the street market in Seongsan with hyung."
He doesn't specify which hyung. There's only ever one he means. Jongin looks over his shoulder where Lu Han is turning the corner, a straw fedora perched loosely on his head in a cheap imitation of a villain from a low-budget mafia movie. He resists the urge to knock it off and instead occupies his arms by hanging them over the railing again, returning to his previous position of meditating on the merits of sleep.
"Too bad. You could use the flexibility tips," he jeers under his breath, so Lu Han won't overhear.
"Very funny," Sehun hisses back, making sure to trod over Jongin's toes when he moves past him.
The sun teases its way out from behind a cluster of clouds, its first appearance since they touched down on the island. The beams heat the back of Jongin's neck, and he presses the entire weight of his body forward, letting the top of the railing dig uncomfortably into his stomach. A breeze blows in from the ocean, with it the smell of seawater so strong he can taste the salt on his tongue, and Jongin closes his eyes and meditates about asshole best friends who don't know how to respect the bro code.
3-
Yoga on the beach, Jongin finds out an hour later, turns out to be yoga on large slabs of uneven rocks, because the actual beach is still covered in puddles from the night before. He lays down his mat and peers over the edge where the cliff slopes abruptly downward, a straight drop to the rushing ocean underneath. From their position he can see the elevated outline of Sunrise Peak across the bay, its dark mass like a bruise against the clear sky.
"Is this safe?" Jongin asks doubtfully.
Zitao is already cross-legged on the center of his mat, eyes closed and shoulders straight, his wrists resting lightly on his knees. His eyebrows crease at Jongin's question, the only interruption in his otherwise controlled posture. "I'm trying to find my center," he murmurs.
"Here, you can take the inside," Yixing offers, dragging his mat to the other side of Jongin closest to the edge.
Jongin suddenly feels self-conscious, his cheeks starting to flush in embarrassment, and he quickly argues, "That's not necessary."
"It's okay, I'm the hyung," Yixing says good-naturedly, pulling both arms taut over his head in a stretch, and Jongin reluctantly unrolls his mat in the other direction.
The instructor is a middle-aged woman from the next seaside town over who barks out instructions in informal slang and makes Jongin half-expect her to lead them in a round of military drills down the length of the beach. There's a brief silence when everyone stretches for the warm-up, and he bends forward to hook his fingers around his ankles, letting the pressure drain from his waist. Yixing extends one leg back in a low lunge next to him, and Jongin follows his movement, making sure to not twist his torso too much and shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.
"I heard Sehun and Lu Han-hyung went to Seongsan today," Jongin says to break the lull, and the heat returns to his cheeks as soon as the words leave his mouth, not sure of what prompted him to say them to Yixing, except that maybe if anyone could understand and sympathize, it'd be him.
Yixing nods absently, keeping his spine straight when he brings his leg back up. "Lu Han wanted to look at phone charms."
Jongin touches his head to his shoulder and then rolls it in a slow circle around his neck, pausing to sneak another glance at Yixing from the corner of his eye. "Isn't it annoying that they disappear every time the twelve of us are together?"
Their instructor calls out the starting position for a tree pose and Yixing crouches down to test the traction on his mat, smoothing the corners down with his palms. "Lu Han asked me to go," he replies pointedly, "but I didn't want to spend our only free time shopping."
Jongin's shoulders tense up, instantly undoing all of his warm-up efforts. Behind them, he hears Zitao hum in preparation for the first stance of the tree pose, and Jongin averts his eyes by tilting his face up to squint at the sun, feeling strangely resentful. He takes a deep breath, expands his lungs with a mouthful of sea air, and then coughs on the exhale, his chest immediately collapsing and ruining his posture. Irritated, he starts, "That's not what-"
"Can you two stop talking?" Zitao interrupts, already balanced on one foot with the other heel pressed tight against his inner thigh to form a perfect triangle. The crease in his eyebrows is back. "You're ruining the mood."
4-
The photoshoot takes place later that afternoon, set to the backdrop of Sunset Peak. The stylists lament the lack of sunshine, caking on an extra layer of bronzer on their cheeks to compensate, and the twelve of them change into the sets of sponsored clothes from a local brand on Jeju. Their managers lug over a carton of props for them to use, a random assortment of island fruits and seashells and swimming gear, and the photographer surveys them before the shoot, nodding in approval and reminding them to showcase the clothing logo in their poses. Kyungsoo gingerly picks out a tangerine from the box and holds it uncertainly up to his shoulder, as if he's about to sleep on it or maybe use it to rub his face like an exfoliant, and Chanyeol cackles, "What are you modeling, the clothes or the fruit?"
"Worry about your own face," Kyungsoo mutters, and Chanyeol pouts in return, demanding, "What's that supposed to mean!" before getting herded away for a lighting check.
They run through several different locations - on the boardwalk, atop a jumble of algae-covered rocks, in front of the meadow of bright yellow rapeseed flowers surrounding the Peak - and cycle through a variety of group positions and poses that no one would ever think to imitate in a beach setting unless they're a fan of sand in strange and uncomfortable crevices.
The photographer tells them to squeeze closer together, no need to be shy with their brotherly bond, even closer, closer still, until Baekhyun is pretty much in a disgruntled Kris' lap, and Chanyeol has to say, "I don't think he can get any closer than sitting on him," for the photographer to finally relent.
It's nearing sunset when they wrap up the shoot, all of them hungry and tired with streaks of foundation peeling off their faces like scales from a mutated fish. Baekhyun gleefully snaps a cell phone picture and adds, "As a teaser for our future zombie concept."
Jongin scrubs off his makeup with a wet cloth after the equipment is packed off into vans and bows are exchanged, and they head back to the hotel in groups of three and four, picking up stray props and articles of clothing along the way. Zitao hangs back, gaze intent as he studies the water with an expression of deep contemplation.
"Are you coming?"
"I want to take a walk before dinner," Zitao answers, voice solemn.
Jongin follows his gaze, but all he sees is a monotonous stretch of sand and a cluster of roofs in the far distance, along the outer edges of town. "Are you going to Seongsan? Maybe I'll go with you."
Zitao turns to look at him and, if possible, his expression grows even more serious. "Jongin, you know I respect you, so don't take this the wrong way," he says, bringing a palm around the back of Jongin's neck and drawing their heads close so their foreheads touch, "but I'd rather take this walk on the beach by myself."
He releases their heads after a moment, and it takes a few more seconds after that for Jongin to find his tongue.
"Okay," he says slowly.
To tell the truth, Jongin likes Zitao - likes that he isn't afraid to show when he's happy or when he's sad or when he wants to punch someone in the face, but even after a year of friendship, he still isn't ready for the times when Zitao will slip into talking like an inspirational quotes calendar.
Zitao pats his arm sympathetically before turning away, and Jongin stares after him, still confused over how he just managed to get ditched for no one.
5-
Dinner that night is fresh fish grilled over sand pits. They watch in awe as a local fisherman guts whole tilefish for them on location, the edge of the knife glistening with loose entrails when it cuts through the skin in quick, precise slices. They build two fires in the sand, Kyungsoo manning one and Minseok on the other, while Yixing prepares the stakes for roasting. Midway through cooking the first slab of fish, Minseok looks up at everyone else sprawled in varying degrees of lethargy around him and asks, dismayed, "Wait, why am I doing the grilling? I'm the oldest."
Jongdae pauses in his sincere effort of shoving sand down Kris' shirt long enough to say, "Would you want any of us near the fire?" and Minseok cedes his point.
The first bite burns the roof of Jongin's mouth and he yelps, nearly dropping his stick on the ground as Kyungsoo hustles over with a water bottle, frowning.
"Careful, it's hot," he warns.
"I see that now," Jongin says sullenly, carefully chewing another piece. Kyungsoo shakes his head, and Jongin grabs onto the hem of his shirt, defiantly refusing to let go even when Kyungsoo tries to twist out of his grip. "Hyung, let's go windsurfing."
"In the dark?" Kyungsoo makes a face that suggests Jongin burned more than just his tongue with that first bite. "Do I look like I enjoy drowning?"
"It's our last night," he whines.
"I can't anyway," Kyungsoo says, trying again to extricate himself out of Jongin's grasp, which only makes Jongin hold on tighter. "I offered to help the hotel staff clean up after this. They've had a lot of work today with the rain and the blackout." He cocks his head at Jongin and continues, "Unless you want to help, too?"
Jongin promptly lets go of his shirt and leans back on his seat. "Hyung, I like you a lot-"
"-but not enough to do kitchen chores, right?" Kyungsoo finishes, the shadow of a smile hiding behind his raised eyebrow.
Jongin turns away, feigning displeasure, and pretends to have no reaction when Kyungsoo reaches out to ruffle his hair, the touch lingering long after the contact breaks.
-1
Jongin wakes up the next morning an hour before his alarm is set to go off, his body restless and muscles stiff from tossing around too much on the hotel's lumpy mattress. He rolls off the edge of his bed and lands on both heels, wincing when his spine cracks in the dark. Kyungsoo stirs momentarily across the room, and Jongin chews his lip, blindly groping for his swim trunks that'd been discarded on the floor from the night before and haphazardly shimmying them over his hips. The rest of the rooms are silent when he slips past them, and he's careful to avoid the floorboards that creak, strategically moving down the hallway like a cat burglar escaping a labyrinth filled with guards.
The back doors leading down to the boardwalk are thrown open, flooding the lobby with the smell of the ocean and the calls of roaming seagulls, and he shields his eyes from the influx of sunlight, waiting for his pupils to adjust. He stops when he realizes that there's someone already outside on the steps, one hand draped loosely over the railing, a half-eaten apple in the other.
"What are you doing up so early?"
Yixing turns around, a thick curl of hair falling over one eye when he tilts his head in surprise, right before he breaks into a smile. "That should be my line. Aren't you the one who likes to sleep?"
Jongin rubs his eye and squints at where the waves ride up on the shore, absently scratching at an invisible itch at the back of his head. "I felt like going for a swim."
"Yeah, same here." Yixing follows him down the steps, the clatter of their feet making hollow sounds on the wooden planks. "It's our last morning, so I wanted to go one more time before we leave."
Jongin glances behind him, and the sun catches Yixing's mouth when he bites off another piece of his apple, the light glinting off his lips as if they're rubbed over with gloss, which is when Jongin misses the last step and trips into a pit of soft sand. He springs upright and dusts off his knees, puffing out his cheeks peevishly as Yixing tries to stifle a laugh. He mutters, "What, you didn't ask Lu Han-hyung if he wanted to go with you?"
Those glossy lips curve into a grin. "He hates getting wet."
Jongin pauses to stare at Yixing, and they both dissolve in laughter. "What a baby," Jongin says, his own mouth tugging into a smug smirk despite himself. Yixing finishes the last bite of his apple and winds back his arm, chucking the core into the waves. It floats on the surface for a hopeful second before disappearing with the next crush of the tide. Jongin thinks about how Kyungsoo would react and feels compelled to reprimand by proxy, "That's littering."
"It's fish food," Yixing asserts, and he tugs his tank top over his head and splashes into the ocean, kicking a jet of water at Jongin along the way.
Jongin’s breath catches in his throat as soon as he submerges under the waves, his stomach instinctively curling into a concave at the instant chill. He breaks into a freestyle and takes off after Yixing in the direction of the bay opening, goosebumps rising and falling from his arms with every stroke. They swim until the hotel is nothing more than a fingerprint in the flat radius of beach and rocks, and the muscle fatigue doesn't register until Jongin rolls onto his back to let his body ride the natural swell of each wave, his weight suspended in the current.
Overhead, clouds are beginning to form, moving in suspicious patterns across the blanched sky. A low rumble sounds from the distant horizon, and Yixing looks up, slowing his stroke but legs still treading underwater. "Looks like it might storm again. Think our flight will get canceled?"
Jongin's ears skirt the surface of the waves, and Yixing's voice takes on a distorted quality when filtered through the water, far away and a little dreamy, disconnected.
"Hope not. I'm ready to go back home." He kicks lazily with his feet and watches the spray fall down like a gentle rain. "I don't like staying in hotels."
Yixing circles around him, the vibrations from his movement sending ripples against Jongin's skin. "Really? I'm used to living out of hotel rooms now."
"Oh, that's right, I forgot you usually stay in hotels when you fly around China."
"I've been away from home for a long time now, anyway." Yixing shrugs, his spine curving out from under the waves like the top of a shark fin.
Jongin flips back onto his stomach, shaking droplets from his hair. Thinking back, as trainees none of them were allowed unauthorized visits home - real home, not the dormitory that was more a depository for a bed and a change of clothes than anything familiar - but Jongin's sisters would sometimes drop off care packages for him at the company, smuggled containers of homemade jjigae and kimchi that traded higher than won amongst the other trainees. Homesickness was a liability under the company reward system, an acid test that separated those who could bend and those who would break under the pressure. Yixing was one of the trainees who'd show up before the practice rooms opened in the morning and stay until the last bus left at night, and at the time Jongin had seen it as a challenge, a competition to see who could sweat the most, learn choreography the fastest, lock the cleanest. Now, watching Yixing's body move languidly in the water, more relaxed than the smoothest of dance steps, he thinks how maybe he'd been wrong the whole time, that even if Yixing had something to prove, Jongin had never been a part of it.
The waves start to get choppier, the foam on the surface giving off a gray tinge that reflects the canopy of clouds above. Jongin ducks his chin in the water and blows out a stream of bubbles, afraid that anything he says will come out garbled and imperfect, and lets the ocean fill the awkward silence instead.
Yixing catches his eye and bites his lip, a little rueful. "I didn't mean that in a bad way. It's easy to forget with the twelve of us together."
Jongin floats closer to Yixing, extending a glide that almost touches their fingers together before he curls back his arm as if pulled by an undertow. "Even stuck on an island, everyone's pretty busy with themselves," he finally says.
"Not everyone. We're here, aren't we?" Yixing catches his hand in the water, the brief contact leaving a sudden imprint of warmth, as unexpected and comforting as the first glimpse of blue sky that breaks after a violent thunderstorm. He squeezes once and then lets go, calling out, "Race you back!" as he streaks toward the shore, barely giving Jongin time to react before he's already several body lengths ahead.
"Foul play!" Jongin shouts, getting a mouthful of seawater in the process, and Yixing tosses back a taunt that the current immediately swallows up. Jongin kicks off furiously after him, but as he picks up speed, each stroke closing the distance between them, he's beginning to learn that this is the kind of competition he doesn't want to give up.
a/n:
- file this fic under "bing writes more ambiguously gay gen"
- you can also file this under "fics with dubious plot or purpose"
- teenage jongin inspiration + yogaline idea taken from the only group I'll stan forever
OT12, Kai/Lay
4,500w
An unexpected thunderstorm de-rails EXO's photoshoot on Jeju Island. Alternately titled: five times Jongin makes a move and once when he doesn't.
between land and sea
First comes thunder. The six of them are laid out in the center of their hotel suite when they hear the low growl in the distance, a shadow descending across the open windows like a heavy curtain. Their manager paces in front of the doorway and frowns; he takes a few steps toward the window, then stops, pausing to scrutinize the ominous color of the clouds before tapping at his phone screen.
"That's strange," he mutters. "None of the weather reports predicted rain for today."
"Monsoon season doesn't start for another couple weeks, right?" Joonmyun sits up in his armchair and smoothes back his hair, as if the worry in Seunghwan's voice has made him suddenly realize that now is one of those moments where he should try to act the part of a leader. Jongin stretches out one leg to purposely tip Joonmyun's suitcase to the floor, hiding a grin when it topples perfectly over Baekhyun's toe, who immediately yelps and knocks Chanyeol in the nose with an elbow. Jongin pillows his head innocently on Kyungsoo's stomach and turns his face the other way when Kyungsoo clicks his tongue in disapproval.
Another rumble sounds from outside, louder and nearer this time, the darkening sky keeping pace with the falling temperature. Jongin can almost feel the looming moisture on his skin, the air already several degrees cooler than when they arrived in Seongsan a few hours ago.
Sehun props up his chin from where he's swathed himself with blankets on the other side of the sofa. "When is M getting in?"
"Their plane just landed in Jeju City," Seunghwan answers, still distracted. "They should be on the drive over now."
Lightning flashes across the sky, followed by another threatening crack of thunder, and Seunghwan frowns at his phone some more before telling them to stay inside for the rest of the afternoon. The rain manages to hold off until an hour later, starting with hesitant fat droplets and rapidly dissolving into into sheets of downpour. M's van pulls into the parking lot shortly afterward, and Jongin watches from the window as the hotel staff run out to help unload suitcases and crates of camera equipment. Lu Han hops out of one side of the van, holding his backpack over his head like a shield and making a dash for the hotel entrance, not noticing that he's left the van door gaping open. Yixing shakes his head and slides it closed after him.
Everyone is dripping wet by the time they stumble into the suite with their bags, laughter mixing with protests as water is flicked in every direction. Zitao peels off his soaked shirt as soon as he drops his suitcase, and Baekhyun pokes him in the stomach, telling him to stop showing off. Hyunkyun and Seunghwan huddle together to the side, their heads bent over a stack of schedules and papers, voices hushed.
Kris looks out the window at the distorted view, where the rain has washed away any semblance of the beach and surrounding trees, and remarks, "This is rather unexpected."
"Probably just a freak thunderstorm." Joonmyun comes up behind him, offering a towel, which Kris misses. "I'm sure it'll pass soon."
That's when the lights cut out.
1-
"What are they going to do about the photoshoot?" Baekhyun holds his hand steady, carefully touching the lit match to the tip of the musty candles that hotel reception dug up from a storage room. The wick falters, as if afraid the dark will swallow it whole, before a flame finally blooms around the wax. Baekhyun lets out a sigh of relief.
"We have the photographer and the equipment, so they'll probably go ahead with it," Chanyeol reasons. He has the hood of his oversized sweatshirt pulled up over his eyes so that all Jongin can see in the dim room is the flash of his white teeth whenever he opens his mouth to talk. "I heard Seunghwan-hyung say that Jeju airport shut down, though. It's not taking any flights from Seoul for the next day. Guess that means SHINee's not joining us tomorrow."
"I watched a movie like this once," Baekhyun says, bringing the candle below his chin, the light licking up to paint a ghoulish pattern over his features. "Everyone died in it."
"Who's going to die?" Zitao demands, popping his head out the bathroom door and jabbing the toothbrush clutched in his hand into the air like a sword.
Kris hooks an arm sharply around Baekhyun's neck, earning him an indignant squawk. "You two, control yourselves."
Jongin noiselessly slips out of the suite, using the illuminated screen from his cell phone to feel his way down the hallway. The stairway leading down to the lobby is lit with propped-up flashlights, and he sits down on the top step, the rest of the rooms eerily quiet. He pockets his phone, pauses for a suspended second, and takes it out again, his finger hovering over the keypad. One more second, stretching into two, before he presses down on the speed-dial. Taemin answers on the third ring.
"I'm using the last of my phone battery to call you, so feel special," Jongin starts, pitching his voice low so it won't carry into the lobby.
"I'm always special," Taemin retorts. There's white noise in the background from his side, sounds of static and muffled shouts.
"I heard about your flight. Are you taking a later one?"
"Don't think so. We have a schedule in Japan in two days, so it looks like we're flying straight there."
Jongin's shoulders drop, and he kicks at the next step, accidentally upturning a flashlight. He bites his lip when it clatters down the stairs, spinning spots of light on the wall as it falls. "What about the photoshoot?"
"It's just a company photobook." Taemin's voice grows indistinct, and Jongin hears shuffling, then a soft thud. "They'll probably have us shoot somewhere else later."
"We were supposed to try windsurfing together, though." Jongin kicks at the step again, careful this time not to upset another flashlight.
"Go surfing with your bandmates," Taemin laughs. "Aren't there eleven of them? Look, I have to get back to practice, but we'll make it happen another time, okay?"
His phone beeps at him, the red battery symbol blinking angrily in the top corner, and he reluctantly ends the call. Overhead, he can still hear the rhythmic drumming of rain on the roof, then the sharp whistling of wind beating against the thin walls. Jongin has never dealt very well with disappointment, but sitting in the half-dark in the middle of an unending thunderstorm on an island 500 kilometers too far away, he thinks how this is only the first and probably not the last time he'll have to adjust expectations for the next few days.
2-
The sky is calm again by the time they wake up the next morning, and they have breakfast on the elevated patio facing the ocean, bare feet on cool wooden planks. Jongin ends up sandwiched between Joonmyun and Sehun, their knees pushed close together in an attempt to fit everyone around the table, and it always feels like a battleground whenever all twelve eat together, their chopsticks warring over bowls of rice and sea urchin soup. The hotel's back entrance feeds directly onto the beach, and Jongdae slyly kicks up a spray of wet sand at Kris' shins, then innocuously points at Baekhyun when Kris spins around to glare darkly.
The rain had kept Jongin up late into the night, and he dangles his arms over the railing after breakfast is cleared, letting the dead weight of his body hang like a lumbering windchime swaying in the breeze. A yawn fights its way up his throat, and he's debating whether it's too soon in the day for a nap when Zitao squeezes next to him on the railing. Jongin flops over obligingly.
"The hotel hosts a yoga class on the beach in the morning! Yixing-hyung and I want to check it out." The words tumble out on top of each other, as if his excitement refuses to be constrained by language limits, and there's a slight stutter when Zitao shyly adds, "You should come. It'll be good for your waist."
Jongin chews on the inside of his cheek, thoughtful. "Okay, sounds fun."
Zitao looks pleased and bumps their shoulders together, saying, "I'll find you when we go," before disappearing down the steps toward the beach and taking off after the retreating figures of Baekhyun and Kris in the distance. Sehun passes Jongin on the stairs going up, hopping awkwardly on one foot as he tries to dust sand off the back of his calves, and Jongin reaches out to sneakily hook a finger in one of Sehun's belt loops to give a sharp tug, grinning when Sehun lurches backward and trips over both his feet.
Sehun pummels him in the chest, scowling. "What do you want, loser."
"Later, yoga on the beach." Jongin pushes back from the railing and wedges his elbow into Sehun's chest, wrinkling his nose when some sand shakes loose from the collar of his shirt.
Sehun's face smoothes itself out. "Can't. I'm going to the street market in Seongsan with hyung."
He doesn't specify which hyung. There's only ever one he means. Jongin looks over his shoulder where Lu Han is turning the corner, a straw fedora perched loosely on his head in a cheap imitation of a villain from a low-budget mafia movie. He resists the urge to knock it off and instead occupies his arms by hanging them over the railing again, returning to his previous position of meditating on the merits of sleep.
"Too bad. You could use the flexibility tips," he jeers under his breath, so Lu Han won't overhear.
"Very funny," Sehun hisses back, making sure to trod over Jongin's toes when he moves past him.
The sun teases its way out from behind a cluster of clouds, its first appearance since they touched down on the island. The beams heat the back of Jongin's neck, and he presses the entire weight of his body forward, letting the top of the railing dig uncomfortably into his stomach. A breeze blows in from the ocean, with it the smell of seawater so strong he can taste the salt on his tongue, and Jongin closes his eyes and meditates about asshole best friends who don't know how to respect the bro code.
3-
Yoga on the beach, Jongin finds out an hour later, turns out to be yoga on large slabs of uneven rocks, because the actual beach is still covered in puddles from the night before. He lays down his mat and peers over the edge where the cliff slopes abruptly downward, a straight drop to the rushing ocean underneath. From their position he can see the elevated outline of Sunrise Peak across the bay, its dark mass like a bruise against the clear sky.
"Is this safe?" Jongin asks doubtfully.
Zitao is already cross-legged on the center of his mat, eyes closed and shoulders straight, his wrists resting lightly on his knees. His eyebrows crease at Jongin's question, the only interruption in his otherwise controlled posture. "I'm trying to find my center," he murmurs.
"Here, you can take the inside," Yixing offers, dragging his mat to the other side of Jongin closest to the edge.
Jongin suddenly feels self-conscious, his cheeks starting to flush in embarrassment, and he quickly argues, "That's not necessary."
"It's okay, I'm the hyung," Yixing says good-naturedly, pulling both arms taut over his head in a stretch, and Jongin reluctantly unrolls his mat in the other direction.
The instructor is a middle-aged woman from the next seaside town over who barks out instructions in informal slang and makes Jongin half-expect her to lead them in a round of military drills down the length of the beach. There's a brief silence when everyone stretches for the warm-up, and he bends forward to hook his fingers around his ankles, letting the pressure drain from his waist. Yixing extends one leg back in a low lunge next to him, and Jongin follows his movement, making sure to not twist his torso too much and shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.
"I heard Sehun and Lu Han-hyung went to Seongsan today," Jongin says to break the lull, and the heat returns to his cheeks as soon as the words leave his mouth, not sure of what prompted him to say them to Yixing, except that maybe if anyone could understand and sympathize, it'd be him.
Yixing nods absently, keeping his spine straight when he brings his leg back up. "Lu Han wanted to look at phone charms."
Jongin touches his head to his shoulder and then rolls it in a slow circle around his neck, pausing to sneak another glance at Yixing from the corner of his eye. "Isn't it annoying that they disappear every time the twelve of us are together?"
Their instructor calls out the starting position for a tree pose and Yixing crouches down to test the traction on his mat, smoothing the corners down with his palms. "Lu Han asked me to go," he replies pointedly, "but I didn't want to spend our only free time shopping."
Jongin's shoulders tense up, instantly undoing all of his warm-up efforts. Behind them, he hears Zitao hum in preparation for the first stance of the tree pose, and Jongin averts his eyes by tilting his face up to squint at the sun, feeling strangely resentful. He takes a deep breath, expands his lungs with a mouthful of sea air, and then coughs on the exhale, his chest immediately collapsing and ruining his posture. Irritated, he starts, "That's not what-"
"Can you two stop talking?" Zitao interrupts, already balanced on one foot with the other heel pressed tight against his inner thigh to form a perfect triangle. The crease in his eyebrows is back. "You're ruining the mood."
4-
The photoshoot takes place later that afternoon, set to the backdrop of Sunset Peak. The stylists lament the lack of sunshine, caking on an extra layer of bronzer on their cheeks to compensate, and the twelve of them change into the sets of sponsored clothes from a local brand on Jeju. Their managers lug over a carton of props for them to use, a random assortment of island fruits and seashells and swimming gear, and the photographer surveys them before the shoot, nodding in approval and reminding them to showcase the clothing logo in their poses. Kyungsoo gingerly picks out a tangerine from the box and holds it uncertainly up to his shoulder, as if he's about to sleep on it or maybe use it to rub his face like an exfoliant, and Chanyeol cackles, "What are you modeling, the clothes or the fruit?"
"Worry about your own face," Kyungsoo mutters, and Chanyeol pouts in return, demanding, "What's that supposed to mean!" before getting herded away for a lighting check.
They run through several different locations - on the boardwalk, atop a jumble of algae-covered rocks, in front of the meadow of bright yellow rapeseed flowers surrounding the Peak - and cycle through a variety of group positions and poses that no one would ever think to imitate in a beach setting unless they're a fan of sand in strange and uncomfortable crevices.
The photographer tells them to squeeze closer together, no need to be shy with their brotherly bond, even closer, closer still, until Baekhyun is pretty much in a disgruntled Kris' lap, and Chanyeol has to say, "I don't think he can get any closer than sitting on him," for the photographer to finally relent.
It's nearing sunset when they wrap up the shoot, all of them hungry and tired with streaks of foundation peeling off their faces like scales from a mutated fish. Baekhyun gleefully snaps a cell phone picture and adds, "As a teaser for our future zombie concept."
Jongin scrubs off his makeup with a wet cloth after the equipment is packed off into vans and bows are exchanged, and they head back to the hotel in groups of three and four, picking up stray props and articles of clothing along the way. Zitao hangs back, gaze intent as he studies the water with an expression of deep contemplation.
"Are you coming?"
"I want to take a walk before dinner," Zitao answers, voice solemn.
Jongin follows his gaze, but all he sees is a monotonous stretch of sand and a cluster of roofs in the far distance, along the outer edges of town. "Are you going to Seongsan? Maybe I'll go with you."
Zitao turns to look at him and, if possible, his expression grows even more serious. "Jongin, you know I respect you, so don't take this the wrong way," he says, bringing a palm around the back of Jongin's neck and drawing their heads close so their foreheads touch, "but I'd rather take this walk on the beach by myself."
He releases their heads after a moment, and it takes a few more seconds after that for Jongin to find his tongue.
"Okay," he says slowly.
To tell the truth, Jongin likes Zitao - likes that he isn't afraid to show when he's happy or when he's sad or when he wants to punch someone in the face, but even after a year of friendship, he still isn't ready for the times when Zitao will slip into talking like an inspirational quotes calendar.
Zitao pats his arm sympathetically before turning away, and Jongin stares after him, still confused over how he just managed to get ditched for no one.
5-
Dinner that night is fresh fish grilled over sand pits. They watch in awe as a local fisherman guts whole tilefish for them on location, the edge of the knife glistening with loose entrails when it cuts through the skin in quick, precise slices. They build two fires in the sand, Kyungsoo manning one and Minseok on the other, while Yixing prepares the stakes for roasting. Midway through cooking the first slab of fish, Minseok looks up at everyone else sprawled in varying degrees of lethargy around him and asks, dismayed, "Wait, why am I doing the grilling? I'm the oldest."
Jongdae pauses in his sincere effort of shoving sand down Kris' shirt long enough to say, "Would you want any of us near the fire?" and Minseok cedes his point.
The first bite burns the roof of Jongin's mouth and he yelps, nearly dropping his stick on the ground as Kyungsoo hustles over with a water bottle, frowning.
"Careful, it's hot," he warns.
"I see that now," Jongin says sullenly, carefully chewing another piece. Kyungsoo shakes his head, and Jongin grabs onto the hem of his shirt, defiantly refusing to let go even when Kyungsoo tries to twist out of his grip. "Hyung, let's go windsurfing."
"In the dark?" Kyungsoo makes a face that suggests Jongin burned more than just his tongue with that first bite. "Do I look like I enjoy drowning?"
"It's our last night," he whines.
"I can't anyway," Kyungsoo says, trying again to extricate himself out of Jongin's grasp, which only makes Jongin hold on tighter. "I offered to help the hotel staff clean up after this. They've had a lot of work today with the rain and the blackout." He cocks his head at Jongin and continues, "Unless you want to help, too?"
Jongin promptly lets go of his shirt and leans back on his seat. "Hyung, I like you a lot-"
"-but not enough to do kitchen chores, right?" Kyungsoo finishes, the shadow of a smile hiding behind his raised eyebrow.
Jongin turns away, feigning displeasure, and pretends to have no reaction when Kyungsoo reaches out to ruffle his hair, the touch lingering long after the contact breaks.
-1
Jongin wakes up the next morning an hour before his alarm is set to go off, his body restless and muscles stiff from tossing around too much on the hotel's lumpy mattress. He rolls off the edge of his bed and lands on both heels, wincing when his spine cracks in the dark. Kyungsoo stirs momentarily across the room, and Jongin chews his lip, blindly groping for his swim trunks that'd been discarded on the floor from the night before and haphazardly shimmying them over his hips. The rest of the rooms are silent when he slips past them, and he's careful to avoid the floorboards that creak, strategically moving down the hallway like a cat burglar escaping a labyrinth filled with guards.
The back doors leading down to the boardwalk are thrown open, flooding the lobby with the smell of the ocean and the calls of roaming seagulls, and he shields his eyes from the influx of sunlight, waiting for his pupils to adjust. He stops when he realizes that there's someone already outside on the steps, one hand draped loosely over the railing, a half-eaten apple in the other.
"What are you doing up so early?"
Yixing turns around, a thick curl of hair falling over one eye when he tilts his head in surprise, right before he breaks into a smile. "That should be my line. Aren't you the one who likes to sleep?"
Jongin rubs his eye and squints at where the waves ride up on the shore, absently scratching at an invisible itch at the back of his head. "I felt like going for a swim."
"Yeah, same here." Yixing follows him down the steps, the clatter of their feet making hollow sounds on the wooden planks. "It's our last morning, so I wanted to go one more time before we leave."
Jongin glances behind him, and the sun catches Yixing's mouth when he bites off another piece of his apple, the light glinting off his lips as if they're rubbed over with gloss, which is when Jongin misses the last step and trips into a pit of soft sand. He springs upright and dusts off his knees, puffing out his cheeks peevishly as Yixing tries to stifle a laugh. He mutters, "What, you didn't ask Lu Han-hyung if he wanted to go with you?"
Those glossy lips curve into a grin. "He hates getting wet."
Jongin pauses to stare at Yixing, and they both dissolve in laughter. "What a baby," Jongin says, his own mouth tugging into a smug smirk despite himself. Yixing finishes the last bite of his apple and winds back his arm, chucking the core into the waves. It floats on the surface for a hopeful second before disappearing with the next crush of the tide. Jongin thinks about how Kyungsoo would react and feels compelled to reprimand by proxy, "That's littering."
"It's fish food," Yixing asserts, and he tugs his tank top over his head and splashes into the ocean, kicking a jet of water at Jongin along the way.
Jongin’s breath catches in his throat as soon as he submerges under the waves, his stomach instinctively curling into a concave at the instant chill. He breaks into a freestyle and takes off after Yixing in the direction of the bay opening, goosebumps rising and falling from his arms with every stroke. They swim until the hotel is nothing more than a fingerprint in the flat radius of beach and rocks, and the muscle fatigue doesn't register until Jongin rolls onto his back to let his body ride the natural swell of each wave, his weight suspended in the current.
Overhead, clouds are beginning to form, moving in suspicious patterns across the blanched sky. A low rumble sounds from the distant horizon, and Yixing looks up, slowing his stroke but legs still treading underwater. "Looks like it might storm again. Think our flight will get canceled?"
Jongin's ears skirt the surface of the waves, and Yixing's voice takes on a distorted quality when filtered through the water, far away and a little dreamy, disconnected.
"Hope not. I'm ready to go back home." He kicks lazily with his feet and watches the spray fall down like a gentle rain. "I don't like staying in hotels."
Yixing circles around him, the vibrations from his movement sending ripples against Jongin's skin. "Really? I'm used to living out of hotel rooms now."
"Oh, that's right, I forgot you usually stay in hotels when you fly around China."
"I've been away from home for a long time now, anyway." Yixing shrugs, his spine curving out from under the waves like the top of a shark fin.
Jongin flips back onto his stomach, shaking droplets from his hair. Thinking back, as trainees none of them were allowed unauthorized visits home - real home, not the dormitory that was more a depository for a bed and a change of clothes than anything familiar - but Jongin's sisters would sometimes drop off care packages for him at the company, smuggled containers of homemade jjigae and kimchi that traded higher than won amongst the other trainees. Homesickness was a liability under the company reward system, an acid test that separated those who could bend and those who would break under the pressure. Yixing was one of the trainees who'd show up before the practice rooms opened in the morning and stay until the last bus left at night, and at the time Jongin had seen it as a challenge, a competition to see who could sweat the most, learn choreography the fastest, lock the cleanest. Now, watching Yixing's body move languidly in the water, more relaxed than the smoothest of dance steps, he thinks how maybe he'd been wrong the whole time, that even if Yixing had something to prove, Jongin had never been a part of it.
The waves start to get choppier, the foam on the surface giving off a gray tinge that reflects the canopy of clouds above. Jongin ducks his chin in the water and blows out a stream of bubbles, afraid that anything he says will come out garbled and imperfect, and lets the ocean fill the awkward silence instead.
Yixing catches his eye and bites his lip, a little rueful. "I didn't mean that in a bad way. It's easy to forget with the twelve of us together."
Jongin floats closer to Yixing, extending a glide that almost touches their fingers together before he curls back his arm as if pulled by an undertow. "Even stuck on an island, everyone's pretty busy with themselves," he finally says.
"Not everyone. We're here, aren't we?" Yixing catches his hand in the water, the brief contact leaving a sudden imprint of warmth, as unexpected and comforting as the first glimpse of blue sky that breaks after a violent thunderstorm. He squeezes once and then lets go, calling out, "Race you back!" as he streaks toward the shore, barely giving Jongin time to react before he's already several body lengths ahead.
"Foul play!" Jongin shouts, getting a mouthful of seawater in the process, and Yixing tosses back a taunt that the current immediately swallows up. Jongin kicks off furiously after him, but as he picks up speed, each stroke closing the distance between them, he's beginning to learn that this is the kind of competition he doesn't want to give up.
a/n:
- file this fic under "bing writes more ambiguously gay gen"
- you can also file this under "fics with dubious plot or purpose"
- teenage jongin inspiration + yogaline idea taken from the only group I'll stan forever