For the xiuhan shippers, you might have to wait a little longer...like until chapter 7 >_<

“Hey.”

Kyungsoo looked up to see a handsome man leaning against the wall and smiling down at him. The newcomer was clad in a crisp white v-neck shirt and expensive-looking designer jeans. He saw some dark blotches smeared all over the jeans and wondered vaguely at them. “Hi?” he said, slightly confused but not really.

The man seemed to take the greeting as an invitation to sit down and he settled comfortably into the seat next to Kyungsoo. “Can I sit here?”

Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow. “If I say no, would you leave now?”

He was given a cheeky smile. “I like you,” the other said. “And I'm Junmyeon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

Kyungsoo poked at his bottle of soju as Junmyeon gaped at him. “You're not going to tell me your name?” he asked, shock apparent on his face.

“Nope.”

“Are you sure? I'm a really interesting person, and according to everyone I talk to, I have an amazing personality. You won't regret becoming my friend.” Two dark eyes peered hopefully at him.

Kyungsoo didn't answer. He resorted to staring at the table, studying the patterns of chipped paint, as he tried to decide how to react to this arrogant and handsome man. “Okay.” He sighed and looked up into a pair of curious eyes. They sparkled in the dim environment, catching the light hanging above them. “I'm Kyungsoo.”

Junmyeon immediately brightened, his mouth stretching into a toothy grin. “Nice to meet you, Kyungsoo!”

“Now tell me just how interesting and amazing you are.” The words slipped out of Kyungsoo before he realized, and he was kind of proud at how flirty they were. He was usually a serious, quiet and resigned person, but maybe he had surrendered to the effects of the alcohol. That, or something else.

“Well,” Junmyeon said, sounding as if he was preparing for a big speech. “I'm pretty rich, so I think that should be a plus . . .” He trailed off and wrinkled his nose. “I'm really not this stuck-up usually, I swear. I don't know why I'm like this today.” He glanced at Kyungsoo and the corners of his lips quirked up. “Maybe I want just wanna impress you.”

Kyungsoo laughed the kind of laugh that was more like exhaling loudly through his nose. “There are billions of 'pretty rich' people in this world.”

“I wouldn't say billions!” the man protested.

“And I'm not a materialistic person.” Junmyeon pouted and Kyungsoo wondered how old he was.

“Umm . . . I'm really good at y twerking dances, but I've also taken ballet lessons for a while," Junmyeon tried again desperately.

“I like singing more.”

“Oh.”

Junmyeon sunk into the seat with a defeated look and Kyungsoo almost felt worried. “So why did you come over here?” he decided to ask, clearing away the silence that had temporarily settled.

The man who had a penchant for pouting rested his head on one hand and bit his lip. “You were getting drunk by yourself and I was sitting by myself, so . . .”

Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow. “You were with friends though.”

Junmyeon's eyes widened, almost comically large (which meant it was almost as large as Kyungsoo's). Closing his mouth which had also dropped open, he said, “But they left.”

“You're really not coming off as interesting and amazing right now.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon agreed with a heavy sigh. “But can I still have your number?” he asked with the trace of a pout ghosting his lips.

Although Junmyeon seemed like an awkward and inexperienced teenager who failed miserably at flirting, Kyungsoo felt something tugging at his heart.

And Junmyeon left that night with a new contact saved in his phone under the name “Ballet Boy.”

And Jongin walked out into the night feeling free and lighthearted, already imagining another name to put at the end of his forever-growing list.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Darkness.

Silence.

Alive.

Minseok woke up disoriented.

He was certain he had died -- he had drowned -- he could remember the salt and the pain and the cold and the spots in his vision when he couldn't breathe and the song.

The song.

He shuddered at the memory of the eerie music that had taken him over completely and if he tried, he could still hear it -- faintly, tauntingly and beautiful. His slight movement sent ripples through the water and he froze. He really hadn't felt the silky smooth water against his skin until he had moved, and it was unsettling. He was still wearing the clothes from before and they felt dry. Was this Hell? He had died, hadn't he? Was he a ghost then?

Sitting upright, he realized he had been lying down before and through the murkiness, he could see the stone slab beneath him. Slowly, cautiously, he stood up and walked -- floated? waded? -- to the one source of light that seemed so far away and found himself in a cage.

Placing his hands on a bar, he relished the feeling of something solid in his fingers. This was real. But a cage? Was he really in an underwater cage?

Suddenly, he heard a dry chuckle behind him. His hands fell away from the bar quickly, afraid he would be caught committing a forbidden crime. Turning around, he squinted in the darkness. He felt so alone, so blind and the darkness was weighing down on him, surrounding him, crushing him. And there was someone in the shadows, laughing at him.

“Can you really not see me?” the voice asked, amused.

“N- no- no?” Minseok stammered. His voice was rough from disuse and he didn't have time to wonder why the salty seawater wasn't going into his mouth, why he wasn't choking and drowning all over again. “Where are you?” he asked the emptiness. “Where am I?”

“You're in Hell.”

~ ~ ~

Minseok was sitting on the stone slab again, the coldness seeping into his body. He could faintly make out his companion. The stranger's face was half-hidden, but he could see the dull glow of gold and a silhouette with sharp edges that cut through the heavy shadows. There was a cheekbone, long lashes, the jawline, a collar.

“Do you like myths?” The still nameless voice was deep and rich, but sounded so impossibly empty. There was an undercurrent of broken flatness lying beneath and Minseok wondered if this was the end result of the cage.

“No.”

“Well, good. Because people think that this place is a myth, but it isn't. This place -- everything's real, whether you want it to be or not.” There was the sound of shuffling and the water moved. “Yes, you are alive. Yes, you are in a cage underwater. Yes, this cage is inside the Siren Emperor's palace. So yes, you are now a captive and it might be better to die, but they would never let you.”

“H- what- how- what's your name?” Minseok finally managed to say.

Clipped laughter made its way over to him. “I told you all that and this is what you ask?”

Minseok nodded, then realized it probably wasn't visible in the dark. “Yes,” he replied quietly. His mind was still numb and he couldn't comprehend nor process anything the man had just said.

It was silent for a moment and Minseok thought that maybe he had imagined it all. Maybe if he was crazy, he could go to sleep, wake up and be in the bed of an asylum. At least it would make more sense.

“You can call me . . . Yifan.”

“Yifan.” Minseok echoed dumbly.

“That's n-”

Footsteps sounded, approaching the cage and Yifan immediately broke off mid-sentence. Silence settled and the heavy footsteps matched Minseok's pounding heart. For some reason, it was the sound of impending doom. This was the end, he was sure.

“When they come and get you,” Yifan murmured, “Don't fight. Don't resist. It's easier to surrender before it starts.”

And after the key clanged against the cage bars, after the door swung open soundlessly and effortlessly, Minseok sat unmoving, wondering what was it that he shouldn't fight against. And when a figure walked in and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him unceremoniously out of the cage; when he spotted faint gills and scales on the figure's hand, he wondered how he could ever fight.

Like it said in the prologue, Suho captured humans. He stuck them in cages and did stuff to them.

And kaisoo is so awkward. I don't even know why OTL