"Don't panic," Sehun told him, as Junhong's torso began to shake in his grip, and he could practically feel the younger boy's breathing quicken.

"I think it's slipping off..." Junhong breathed, his whispers turning into a desperate whimper, "I can feel it moving, oh God..."

It was one of the times when each second felt like a lifetime, and each breath felt like the last, it might have been a few seconds, but to Sehun, it felt like a split moment when he felt Junhong's weight shift in his arm to the right, and his back leaned fully back into Sehun's chest in synchronization with the sickening creak of the rock Junhong was clinging to for dear life. Sehun watched, eyes wide with horrified anticipation as the stone emitted a sickening crack, and split off it's base, leaving Junhong with nothing else to cling to. As Junhong's wounded palm d desperately at shore, Sehun reacted as well, and both of his legs forwards in the water, steadying against the walls of the raging pool, allowing his knees to support themselves at the uneven edges.

Then, with one arm still around the junior sculler, he threw his arm between a rock, steadying himself against it. His legs supported Junhong's lower torso, keeping his chest above the water.

"Don't panic, and don't move," Sehun panted with exhaustion, his knees numb, his arm bleeding.

"You're crushing my diaphragm..."

"Just hang in there, it's the best I can do."

Calypso, he begged mutely, let us go.

Let us go.

The sea is a dangerous friend to make – she was obsessive, immortal. And most of all, deadly.

*

Sehun was sitting behind the counter, flipping through his calculus homework when the tingling of familiar bells filled his ears. He murmured a greeting of welcome, lifting his head briefly to acknowledge the customer before crossing out his workings with two savage fluorishes. Then, he looked up again, and noticed that he had never seen him before. The customer was a very tall boy, around 16 or 17, with fungus-black hair flattened at the fringe with a pair of enormous goggles strapped at his forehead. He was dressed loosely in an oversized singlet and equally larged beach shorts, and walked around the store barefoot, leaving sand trails all over the floor.

He glanced around with brown contacts, before turning to Sehun at the counter, "do you rent out kayaks?"

"Yeah, $150 for the set."

"It was $135 last year."

"That's without the suit."

"I don't need a suit."

Wordlessly, Sehun pulled out a catalogue and Junhong picked a longtail, sliding his ID onto the wooden counter along with his license.

Choi Junhong, 1996.

"I didn't know they gave licenses to someone so young," Sehun commented, trying to be friendly, "you must be pretty good,"

"Been rowing all my life," Junhong shrugged, "born and bred by the sea."

"Join the club."

"I already am, I grew up here."

"Never seen you around before," Sehun lifted his eyes and found himself staring straight into Junhong's almond ones. He had nice eyes.

Like someone he used to know.

"Maybe," Junhong diverted his gaze, and signed his name on the record book, "or maybe you have."

Maybe you have.

*

Sehun couldn't hear Junhong's breathing anymore.

It was part of what he had been paying attention to, aside from the roar of the waves, the splash of salt and water against the rocks, the flutter of batwings, the bellow of rain and wind and an occasional rumble of thunder. Then, he noticed that the unrhythmic heaving of Junhong's upper torso had ceased. It wasn't until Zelo's neck leaned back, and his weight sank dead on his knees that Sehun began to panic.

"Junhong?"

It was hard to tell if the sculler was moving or not, what with the waves rocking them both in a nausea-inducing cradle. Another of streak of lightning sliced through the sky, its light beaming through the gap adjacent to where they both bobbed.

Like sinking boats, they bobbed, barely ten feet away from a skeleton

"Junhong," Sehun's voice was a cold whisper, not in tone, but with fear. His own arm began to shake.

"Please, don't give up."

Zelo's neck was still lying on his.

"You were a fighter once, remember? You were only eleven-years-old."

Zelo's weight still felt dead.

"You didn't leave me in the water alone, when I was trapped in that clam, you dived right in and you fought the waves with me."

The thunder, tardier than usual, rumbled in the distance.

"You fought for me, when I just lay there, thinking about death."

A wave slapped Sehun across the cheek, but he kept whispering into the sculler's ear.

"You pulled me up when I went under, and you pushed me to safety when you were scared too."

The roars seemed to elevate.

"You told me you would never let go."

Zelo's neck fell back even more as the wave shifted him slightly to the side, his eyes were still closed.

"So don't be like me," tears were mingling with salt and sand, "don't let go of yourself, like how I let go the last time."

Sehun's knees were numb, and his arm felt like it was going to tear off him.

"Because I'll never let go this time."

A flare of light shone point blank into his face, and he squinted, startled. His eyes were red, and the tears still stung, but his arms were strong around Junhong. Jongin's voice was urgent.

"They're here! Bring the stretcher!"

There was a scruffle of hasty movement as Sehun felt strong arms lift Junhong off the surface of the water, but Sehun held fast.

"He's got a rod in his heart," his voice came out raspy, "be careful."

"We've got him, son."

"They've got him," Jongin had entered the water and was wedging Sehun's bleeding arm off the rocks, "you can let go."

And reluctantly, Sehun did.

But this time, he knew what he was doing.

*

SIX MONTHS LATER

Sehun was hunched over the counter, bored out of his mind as he tried to register the English sentences in the Literature textbook. Then, the tingling of familiar bells filled his ears. He murmured a greeting of welcome, highlighting a noun in the dictionary lying propped open next to his elbows. Then, he felt a shadow fall over Hamlet's illustration.

"I'd like to rent a longtail."

"Sure."

He closed the book slowly and looked up.

His mouth fell open and broke into a grin.

"You've gotta be freaking kidding me."

Calypso never scared us anymore. Because together, she could never take us.

I was Odyssey, he was Hermes.

But sometimes, together, we were Zelos too.