Few things are more beautiful than the sunset over the Yellow Sea. The water becomes a wavy mirror, reflecting the light and brightening the sky even as the sun slips beyond the horizon. Kyungsoo usually works late afternoons until morning; he often misses opportunities to enjoy the sunset and is too tired to see the sunrise.

A rare day off, and he’s at home at his beach house with his and his boyfriend’s dogs—their “kids”—for company. They’re piled on one of their three dog beds, passed out after a day of fetch and swimming.

It’s getting late, and Jongin’s still not home. Kyungsoo sets his phone beside his elbow on the railing and taps Jongin’s name. After a few rings, it connects.

“Hello?” Jongin’s voice is scratchy and has a confused lilt to it; he just woke up.

“Hey. It’s me.”

“Hyung…” He groans; Kyungsoo hears shuffling and can perfectly imagine Jongin sitting up and ruffling his hair. “What time is it?”

“Late. Are you coming home?” The breeze is pleasantly cool and carries salt. Looking to his left, up the beach, Kyungsoo can see the silhouette of the city. It’s lit and thriving, and Jongin’s somewhere in it.

“Not tonight. I’m still at the venue; I just meant to take a short nap, but everyone’s left me, I guess.” Jongin is kind of like a log when he passes out. Logs don’t wake up all that easily. “I’ve got some more work to do on that side thing, so I’ll just sleep at the studio.”

“Alright…” Kyungsoo sighs. It’s been a weird couple of weeks; Jongin’s usually really good about making it home or at least letting Kyungsoo know ahead of time if he won’t make it, but since taking on this mysterious side project... He’s been distant. Kind of evasive and avoidant.

Their friends are no help, either. Kyungsoo had actually called one of Jongin’s brothers who works in the city if he knew what Jongin’s working on, but Jongdae denied even knowing anyone named Jongin. If any of their friends would blab, though, it’d be Baekhyun, although even he only said, It’s privileged information, Kyungsoo. Need to know. You don’t need to know. The unawareness is a big part of it.

And it kind of makes sense. Jongin’s main source of income is drawing comics. Since dating Kyungsoo and spending the busy tourist season with him at his beach home, however, he’s taken jobs as a dancer and developed a hobby of drawing on the beach—literally taking a rake or a big stick and drawing in the sand. Rather than drawing with an audience, he meanders the beach at night or early morning, finds a secluded spot, and draws something for the daytime beachcombers and meanderers to discover.

Chanyeol jokes that Jongin’s an alien, trying to make a message big enough to see from space so his people will come get him.

Often, Jongin will share his sketchbook with Kyungsoo and ask for his opinion. It’s been a while. Kyungsoo doesn’t think he’s even seen the hardcover Moleskine in at least a month.

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “It’s okay, Jongin. Just be sure to eat something, alright? And don’t fall asleep at your desk again. I’ll see you later.” He ends the call and drops onto his crossed arms with a sigh. Unwanted thoughts are creeping into the front of his mind, again, suggesting that maybe Jongin isn’t actually working. Maybe they’ve run their course as a couple. Maybe he’s not even in the city like he says.

Maybe—hopefully—Kyungsoo’s just overthinking a busy schedule. He hopes so, because he likes Jongin a whole hell of a lot.

Once the leftovers are packaged and stored away, Kyungsoo tops off the dogs’ water dishes, lets them all outside one last time, puts them back to bed, and drags himself down the hall to his own room. It seems like too much of a bother to shower; he’ll do it in the morning. Stripping off his pants, he throws the comforter to the foot of the bed and crawls under the bedsheet, curling into a comfortable position on his side with an arm holding a pillow beneath his head.

He has work again tomorrow. Baekhyun is scheduled to play piano for him. He’s a talented musician and really great person, but Kyungsoo needs all the rest he can get just to feel enough inner peace to tolerate the man. He’s very peppy, even at ungodly hours. Kyungsoo doesn’t do peppy.

One of the dogs gets up and shakes its coat, nails tapping over the floor. It sounds like it jumps onto a sofa, probably too hot or too annoyed with another dog’s foot or on its face.

Like always, the bedroom windows are open, and Kyungsoo can clearly hear the shush of the waves and the tinkling of the windchime hanging from the eave. Time crawls by.

He rolls onto his back, covering his eyes with his elbow. Even without looking at the clock—covered with a sock, so there’s no glow at night—he knows it’s late. Early. It’s morning but only in that the sun’s rising. It’s too early to actually be awake.

He lets his arm flop to the bed, feeling only cool, empty sheets.

It’s kind of ridiculous how lonely that makes him feel, but the early morning is an emotionally vulnerable time, and he has been dating Jongin for over three years. That’s a long time to get accustomed to someone’s company, although they don’t live together.

He shifts onto his side again and forces himself not to think. It’s best to sleep; even if Jongin isn’t beside him, Kyungsoo can see him in his dreams.

But then he’s awake.

There’s a hand on his hip and lips against his ear. Kyungsoo stretches and squints over his shoulder. “You’re back.”

“I can’t sleep well without my hug pillow.”

“Bull.” Jongin could sleep on the beach in high tide.

“Fine.” Jongin’s already shed his jeans and T-shirt and lies along Kyungsoo’s back, tucking an arm over his boyfriend’s waist and playing with the waistband of his boxer shorts. “I just really missed you. Makes it hard to sleep.”

Kyungsoo contorts to offer Jongin a kiss, which he eagerly accepts with a happy hum. It works its magic, too; Jongin burrows under the sheet and nuzzles into Kyungsoo’s neck.

“Did you make any progress on that side project?”

“Yeah,” Jongin murmurs. “Really just need a nice day to put it all together…” His breathing evens out, and Kyungsoo knows he’s asleep. He takes the arm over his waist and kisses the fingers, lacing his own between them and hugging it.

Sleep comes much easier.

Mid-morning brings back their usual routine. Jongin lets the dogs out and runs around with them, working up everyone’s appetite. He looks sorry when his phone vibrates on the kitchen island. “I have another show to prepare for.” Unfortunately, no amount of kisses can keep him from leaving; they’re both too responsible to skip work.

Kyungsoo showers and tries to enjoy a movie with the kids before mentally preparing himself to deal with Baekhyun.

He’s even more peppy than usual, practically vibrating with excitement. It spills over to their performances at the hotel that night, making him flirtier and more animated. The audience loves it. At least one young woman turns to her companion in dizzy excitement.

More annoying still, Baekhyun nearly pushes Kyungsoo from the dressing room after their final show. “You should hurry home, Soo. Don’t worry about things here; I’ll help pack up and whatever.”

He’s not about to complain, but Kyungsoo’s also not necessarily eager to get home. Jongin will probably not be there. Why hurry to someplace empty?

The kids greet him with dances and barks and urgent, meaningful looks to the back door. They tear down the stairs from the balcony to the beach when Kyungsoo opens the door. He leaves it open and sits at the bistro table to just take in the warm air.

The sea’s nearly black, highlighted in sparkles of white from the sliver of moon hanging over it. Spots of yellow fire draw his attention, and he holds up his phone with the camera app open.

Tall torches dot the beach, surrounding even, dark lines dug into the sand.

“That’s weird…” He lives on a strip of private beach, which doesn’t mean people don’t still meander, but they definitely don’t try to attract attention.

Kyungsoo’s phone chirps with a message from Jongin. For as technologically inept as he is, Jongin still surprises Kyungsoo with his understanding of texting and emojis.

But it’s late, even for the artist; he may be letting Kyungsoo know he’s crashing at his studio again. Kyungsoo swipes his phone screen.

look outside hyung

down the beach

Kyungsoo types back, I’m on the balcony. Is that you?

Rather than reply, a rectangle pops up with a little dot chasing itself in a circle. An image loads, and Kyungsoo taps it to make it bigger.

It must have been taken earlier, judging by the light, but the torches imply it’s an aerial view of the same thing Jongin wants to show him.

The drawing is smaller than some of what Jongin’s created, but it looks much more detailed. He probably spent the better part of the day digging at the sand to get the lines to look so sharp and defined.

Wavy lines intersect one another and meet at two points with two humps reaching towards the water and creating an intricately laced heart that embraces the simple message: MARRY ME.

Kyungsoo’s own heart is doing something funny in his chest, partway up his throat and pounding in his ears.

He almost drops his phone when it vibrates in his hand with another message: come down.

A buzz builds up, like his anxiety has to take a physical and audible form, following him down the stairs to the sand. The dogs yip and bark, dashing around him in a heated game of tag.

As he walks, watching the torchlight grow stronger, Kyungsoo can’t see any other footprints. Jongin must have done something to keep other people away from this part of the beach. While Kyungsoo’s house sits nearby, he doesn’t own the beach that’s revealed at low tide.

Jongin’s sitting on the sand, arms loosely holding his knees. As a dancer and an artist, he finds music and rhythm in everything, but his favorite sound has to be the ocean. It’s never the same, raging from gentle to wild within minutes.

Kind of like Kyungsoo, who’s always got a storm simmering beneath his skin.

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing in the sand, Jongin?”

He smiles at the water and shakes his head. “Never.” It’s hard to look at Kyungsoo; he’s nervous. The orange light from the torches highlight his face handsomely, though; it’s hard to look away.

“This is your side project, then? The ‘show’ you had to prepare for this morning?”

“Yep.” Peeking at his boyfriend a little sideways, he asks, “You like it?”

Kyungsoo nods, toeing the line of one of the characters. “I do. It’s beautiful, and I really wondered what you could be planning for so long. Your friends and brothers were no help, either.” Even threats to their physical well-being got him nowhere.

“They helped in their own way,” Jongin defends offhandedly.

“Jongdae denied having any brothers at all.”

“I guess he’s not invited, then. If,” he slouches a little, “you know, we actually…”

“Jongin, I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to for a long time, now.” Maybe even since they started dating. Sometimes, people meet and just have a feeling like “this is it; this is the person I’m going to spend my life with.” When his parents met, although his dad was seeing another woman at the time, Kyungsoo’s mom had that feeling.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” Kyungsoo shrugs, “and I figured you’d come up with something really great sooner or later. And you did. Although,” he adds, “I noticed you didn’t actually ask me to marry you. Demanding brat.”

“If I give you an option, you’ll be difficult. I’ve learned.” Jongin takes something from beside him and shakes the sand off of it.

“Good boy.”

Rising onto a knee, Jongin opens the box—an actual polished oyster shell fit with a hinge and a clasp—to reveal a square cut pyrope garnet flanked by two smaller diamonds set in a gold band.

Kyungsoo smiles fondly—giddily, but very fond—holding out a hand. “You only have to ask me once, Kim Jongin.” The ring fits perfectly, to Kyungsoo’s surprise. He doesn’t wear jewellery; Jongin must have gotten creative with figuring out his size or guesses really accurately.

He hears that strange whirring again. “What is that? Do we have a nest of giant bees?”

“Ignore it. That’s just Chanyeol hyung documenting the moment.” Jongin brushes off his pants as he stands and points out the drone hovering above them.

“Document this, you jerks.” He kisses his fiancee. For good measure, he flips off the drone's camera.

---

a/n: Prompt #44 for EXO Wedding AU I had a lot of cute ideas that I ended up not using, because I didn't use my time wisely. It's my fault, and I regret it, but this is still kinda cute on its own, so it's not all bad. The title is from Isak Dinesen, taken from Reader's Digest (April 1964), "The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea."