The wind howled.

The entire crew of the Calling Siren gathered on the top deck, morning light glinting off all of their weapons in turn. Gleaming short swords; throwing knives; the heavy, rusted length of chain that rested still, for now, in Luhan’s delicate grip. Jongin swallowed as realisation washed over him, over all of them, that today, someone was going to die. Their arsenal shone with bloody promise, with savage hope.

Today, a man would die, and likely so would many more as the crew of the Siren fought to ensure the same fate wouldn’t befall one of their own.

The Titania drew closer on the horizon, larger than any vessel they had engaged with thus far. At the edge of the ship, Kyungsoo handed the telescope to Baekhyun and cleared his throat, turning to the rest of the group.

“It ends here,” he began, a careful coolness in his voice that Jongin could swear was rehearsed. Maybe it had been, for all these years. “If the target is found, I kill him. If the treasure is found, I take it. If neither are to be found, we destroy the Titania altogether.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, then, but it comforted Jongin nonetheless. He tightened his grip on his own sword. “The queen of the Sapphire Country fleet will reign no more...and her wreckage will sink behind us as we sail towards the future.”

The rest of the crew echoed quiet agreement, a subdued sort of cheer at Kyungsoo’s clearly practiced speech. From the corner of his eye, Jongin watched the Titania come closer, closer still. From here, the sails shone a brilliant sapphire blue in the sunlight, and Jongin’s sword felt heavy in his hand, the feathered dagger a sudden weight in his pocket.

“We fight for the future, now,” Kyungsoo continued, “nobody can afford to die. Defend yourselves at all cost - kill anyone you have to.”

Jongin felt a lump in his throat at that. Fortunately, Chanyeol spoke up before he even thought to try. “What about your target? You always told us to try and leave the enemy alive, so we didn’t kill the wrong one…”

“My target is the captain, we know that much. You’ll probably recognise him when you see him.”

“Captain,” Minseok stepped forward. “The same could be said for you. You should take off your coat, or they’ll go after you, first.”

Kyungsoo didn’t answer with words, only raising his eyebrows thoughtfully, but he eventually removed the coat, discarding it carelessly on the deck. Without it, Jongin mused, he almost looks like any one of us. But something….

Something about the way Kyungsoo held himself in that moment, shorter in stature and younger in years than many of his own crew, commanded respect in its own way. It made Jongin’s chest ache, just a little, but now wasn’t the time for that. He could only hope that his aura of authority wouldn’t be picked up on by the enemy.

“Baekhyun, Luhan, Zitao, you three will-”

“-be going with you.”

 

Kyungsoo paused abruptly, staring wordlessly at the trio for a while. All three of them - the medic, the rookie, the noble - wore the same shaky grin, their shoulders pushed back in a show of defiance. Chanyeol, holding onto Baekhyun’s hand tightly, shared the same expression, tapping his wooden leg on the boards of the deck impatiently.

“Y-you’ve never been on a proper engagement be-”

“-we don’t care, captain. There’s little on the Siren to guard, and if you think we’re letting you jump onto a ship like that with just what, six men? You’re sorely mistaken.” Luhan smiled a little wider, the brilliant blade of his aristocratic Amethyst roots falling to his side as he raised the length of chain to his chest. The weapon of Amethyst’s brutal, the bloodthirsty, the barbaric, comfortable in his hold.

“We’re staying together.” Baekhyun piped up immediately, before Kyungsoo could even turn to him. He, too, raised a hand, linked with Chanyeol’s. “We didn’t come all this way just to sit back and watch, and I’m not leaving Chanyeol’s side, no matter what happens.”

“No matter what happens.” Chanyeol echoed softly.

A twinge in Jongin’s chest. Baekhyun had little combat experience, his own weapon still shining and new. Chanyeol still shook, just a little, on his wooden leg. He would walk strangely, he would stumble, he would cry out in pain, but the grit and determination on both of their faces as they held on, never let go of each other’s hands...Jongin bit his lip.

The engagement could kill them both.

And as long as they were together, that didn’t seem to faze them at all.

It was after a long silence that Kyungsoo spoke again.

“Yifan, Zitao, Luhan, you three will be in charge of securing the top deck for subduing hostages.” The captain wasn’t looking at them anymore, instead watching Titania as it drifted along peacefully, the calm before the storm. “Between you, there should be little problem. Yifan, start the distress signal and set up the ropes. They’re close now.”

“Yes, sir.” Yifan nodded before seemingly disappearing, up to the emerald sails the Siren sported that day.

“Baekhyun, Chanyeol, stay together.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll follow them, Captain.” Jongdae stepped forward, his tone solemn. Jongin could just about make out Jongdae’s hand under his sleeve, little finger running lightly over his silver ring.

“I’ll be searching for the captain’s quarters. Sehun, Minseok, Jongin,” his voice strained just a bit as he called Jongin’s name, and Jongin wanted so badly to run over to his captain, to throw his arms around him and tell him they would stick together just as Baekhyun and Chanyeol would...but he couldn’t. “Business as usual. Take anything you find, and promise me you won’t die.”

Jongin’s mind scrambled for the right words - what could he say? A simple yes, sir didn’t really suffice, but how could he pour out his feelings now? The wind stung his cheeks, his eyes, and were he the man he used to be, he may even have shed a tear. But not now.

 

A light shuffling of fabric brought him back to the present.

 

All eyes were on Minseok. Minseok, expression carefully neutral, standing tall with his gaze far out to sea. Minseok, sword in hand, a light in his eyes of a man with no fear, no regret.

Minseok, Kyungsoo’s coat shrugged onto his shoulders.

If Kyungsoo had any protest, he didn’t get to voice it before the quartermaster silenced him with a finger to his own lips. A playful shush, as if talking to a child.

Kyungsoo’s, and everyone else’s, complaints died in their throats, and the crew scattered about the deck as they watched, as they waited, as they prepared.

Titania approached, responding to the distress signal of what they likely believed to be a close ally. The blue sails grew ever more vivid, Jongin’s heart pounded ever faster.

Sehun tucked a small, folded piece of paper into his shirt, above his heart. Jongin couldn’t read it, not from where he was, but could make out a small string of Xs before it vanished into fabric.

Jongdae brought his ring finger to his lips, closing his eyes.

Jongin didn’t watch Chanyeol and Baekhyun, but he could hear the thunk of Chanyeol’s leg as he moved, the soft sigh from Baekhyun’s lips. He didn’t need to see what came next; he could already tell.

He watched Kyungsoo’s back as the captain moved around the deck, calling instructions, watching Titania, and pointedly not looking at Jongin. Jongin wasn’t sure how to feel - even if he couldn’t hold Kyungsoo in front of the others, or kiss the way Baekhyun and Chanyeol could do, even one more chance to look into those dark eyes before they left would be enough. But not enough. Maybe even too much. He could feel his insides turning to jelly, and closed his eyes with a sharp exhale.

He had to steel himself.

One more engagement. Just one more. One more, and the future would be his; he couldn’t let it slip through his fingers now. He traced his fingertips over the glittering stones on his necklace before tucking it into his shirt.

With one more glance at Kyungsoo, he began to stretch. He had more than one thing too precious to lose in the battle to come.

 

For a brief moment, Jongin felt like he had been taken back in time, like this was a regular engagement like any other. Yifan launching himself onto the Sapphire vessel first, throwing himself from the weighted ropes with swords drawn and a ferocious battle cry. Zitao followed him, landing on the deck of the Titania with a thud. Around them, at least a dozen Sapphire sailors began to swarm, armed with nothing but sheer determination.

Zitao swung his weapon, the innocuous wooden pole he always carried, and in one swift motion at least half of the wave were felled, leaving room for Luhan to swing across and join the offensive.

 

Jongin’s heart pounded as more and more sailors began to emerge from the lower decks at the commotion, and he stepped forward to catch the rope as it swung back. The morning air was crisp, sharp on his tongue when he paused to breathe.

One more. He told himself firmly, and with one last glance behind him into the dark, fiery eyes of his captain, he began with a running start.

 

Thump.

 

There was shouting everywhere, from all sides. Jongin didn’t know left from right, forward from back, only that the enemy surrounded him wherever he turned, save the sky itself. The glint of sunlight off a blade caught his eye, and against all survival instinct Jongin found himself sprinting towards the light, pushing past nondescript figures - the enemy, the obstacle, in his pursuit.

 

Another thud behind him, low-heeled boots clacking as their wearer broke into a sprint, and Jongin lunged at the sailor with the sword, bringing up his own blade to catch the other mid-swing. Footsteps around him pounded in his head, in his chest, every inch of his body marching to the beat of battle. Clear a path. His mind raced on without him. Clear a path for him. More landings, more yelling, the first pained screams as from the corner of Jongin’s eye he saw Luhan strike one of the taller men across the face with his chains, sending him collapsing to the floor.

Hauling his entire body weight forward, Jongin pushed back against the armed Sapphire sailor again, forcing him backwards, his sword out to one side. Jongin brought the hilt of his sword down hard on the man’s head, knocking him back with a sickening crack. Had he just killed a man? Jongin didn’t look back at him, bodily shoving unarmed opponents into Zitao’s range as he sought out Kyungsoo.

For a moment, dark, sweeping fabric caught his gaze, but the moment ended when it had barely begun as with a shout, Minseok hurtled towards one of the doors to the lower decks, a crowd of Sapphire sailors in pursuit.

Sehun landed, and as he knocked a sailor down with a strike to the back, Jongin caught a glimpse of Kyungsoo vanishing through another door leading down below.

 

Do I follow? He wanted to ask himself, his train of thought derailing somewhere in the middle when another opponent - unarmed this time - moved to block his path. Jongin barely saw him, registering only a shapeless obstruction in the light of the dawn streaming down from above him. Taking a breath and without stopping in his charge, Jongin swung his sword outwards, grip tightening around the hilt as the impact with his targets slowed the movement down.

The sailors drew back with a chorus of groans, some struck with the blade and others by the force of their comrades stumbling backwards, and Jongin kept running. Spots of red flew from the blade and onto the boards beneath his feet, but he didn’t spare a moment to look at them, barrelling through the nearest doorway and almost falling down the stairs in his haste.

A resounding thwack and a pained cry; two, three, four. Breathless laughter from behind him, up the stairs from him, lilting in an oddly charming way as it mingled with the sound of clanking chains.

They’ll be fine.

If all these engagements had taught Jongin anything, it was that he really didn’t enjoy being alone in the dark and musty labyrinths that made up ninety nine-percent of the lower decks of one hundred-percent of ships they engaged. Something about it; perhaps the choking sensation he would get from the particularly damp-afflicted ships, perhaps the pounding footsteps up above messing with his heart rate, didn’t sit well with him. The battle cry of an enemy, the strained screams of a fallen foe, those didn’t matter to Jongin anymore, not when he could match it to a face, preferably on the sharper end of his sword.

What he hated was the knowledge that his comrades - friends - were somewhere in the chaos and he couldn’t see them, didn’t know the ship well enough to find them, and all in all was entirely unable to help them.

He had run into Baekhyun and Chanyeol, at one point, with Jongdae already missing somewhere. Something had tightened in Jongin’s chest when he found them, leaning on each other and seemingly panting heavily until they noticed Jongin’s presence, and their expressions shifted almost seamlessly into bright - if weary - smiles. Baekhyun was never a fighter, and Chanyeol had been out of commission for months, but somehow the two of them, hair wind-blown, eyes wild and all, had the strength in them to keep going - at least, in front of Jongin.

Their linked fingers said all they needed to about where that strength came from, and it took all Jongin had to turn away, before suggesting they launch an offensive on the galley together.

(Jongin’s free hand felt painfully empty when the trio parted ways again. He allowed himself one thought - just one, of him, before gripping his sword with two hands and a stronger resolve.)

It was quieter than Jongin expected in the lower decks - it gave him too much time alone with his thoughts, and he didn’t like that at all. Interruptions were few; already wounded men always fleeing from the same direction directly into him, who never took more than a punch to the neck or a strike to the shins to surrender themselves to Jongin’s mercy. It took him a long time to cover much ground in the lower decks as he repeatedly hauled his hostages to the top decks, shoving them through the doors to the outside where his crewmates were waiting to bind them.

It took him a long time, but with each sailor subdued he would venture further into the wooden depths of the Titania before stumbling across another. It was dark, and Jongin was thankful - he knew there would be blood on his sword by now, on his clothes, on the floorboards, and he didn’t want to think about that. Instead, he concentrated on what he could hear.

He could hear gunshots, occasionally. Warnings shots fired by Yifan on the upper deck to keep the hostages in line were few, but steady, like a bloody pulse to the body of battle.

He could hear the stomp stomp of boots on the decks above him, on the floorboards around him. Sometimes they sped up, fleeing in panic. Sometimes they slowed down, succumbing to their wounds. Other times they were cut short with a pained cry before a last thud of impact.

He could hear...breathing.

It sounded more like hyperventilating.

Feeling his own pulse race, Jongin broke into a sprint, sword ready in his grip. It was difficult to see, but his eyes were adjusting to the darkness. He saw notches sliced into wooden panels and doorframes, he saw barrels and crates, upturned or outright smashed.

He saw red.

“Jongin, oh God, help me.” Sehun’s voice was strained, but Jongin could barely hear him. From the moment he had stepped into the room, all he could see was red. Red stains along the floor, on Sehun’s hands.

On Captain Kyungsoo’s coat, blooming scarlet right across the abdomen.

“Jongin, Minseok...they hurt him.” The younger boy was swallowing hard between almost every word. Jongin tried to look up at Sehun then, to show he was listening, but every time his gaze fell back to the coat, to the pale hands - different to Kyungsoo’s, if barely - clutching at Minseok’s torso and attempting to stem the blood flow. “Come on...come on…” He practically scrabbled at his own face, pulling at his hair in panic.

Jongin thought he was going to throw up.

“Keep breathing, Minseok. Please…” Sehun rested his hand over Minseok’s - Jongin couldn’t tear his eyes away as the red marks continued to spread across their skin. Sehun held his own weapon of choice - the spiked club that Jongin knew so well by now - out to him with a shaking hand. “Take this. I need to get him to the top deck - if we can just keep him stable, Zitao might be able to help him. Can you cover us?”

Wincing a little, Jongin gave Sehun a silent response, the fingers of his free hand wrapping gingerly around the handle of the club. It was an unfamiliar weight in his hand, and he felt entirely unbalanced, but he was only semi-registering anything that he felt, anyway.

“Lead the way.” Sehun reached out then, to pick up Minseok’s own blade that rested on the floor close by. “Come on, Minseok. See if you can stand...it’s going to be okay. It has to be okay. You can’t die like this.”

Minseok’s face was white, to a degree Jongin hadn’t seen since long ago, when Chanyeol had lost his leg. He didn’t want to keep staring, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t even know the nature of the injury - had the quartermaster been stabbed? Slashed? Jongin didn’t know. The one who needed to know that would be Zitao, on the top deck. Jongin knew that.

Jongin knew a lot of things, but none of them came to mind. He turned away from the pair and closed his eyes, only flashes of red behind his eyelids, and exhaled.

Lead the way.

Jongin didn’t turn back to look at them on the entire journey to the upper deck. He didn’t have to. He could hear the bizarre, strangled sounds every time Minseok tried to breathe or speak. He could hear the sharp gasps of pain with each step they took. Sehun’s whispered words of comfort, his voice growing ever more strained as they walked, as his efforts proved increasingly futile.

“You’re going to make it, Minseok.” Sehun had murmured to him, before a Sapphire sailor barrelled down the hall to confront them. Jongin moved quickly, but his opponent was quicker, striking him solidly in the left shoulder and knocking Jongin backwards with a groan. Building on the momentum, Jongin swung back, with his sword arm - blocked - with Sehun’s club, previously unnoticed by his side - success. A hard thwack to the side of the sailor’s skull was all it took to knock him to one side, to the floor.

Jongin quietly savoured the moment he stepped on the man’s arm as they continued down the hall.

 

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again. The coat, his coat, spattered with blood. Futile, whispered promises of you’ll be alright echoed empty in his soul. His blows were somehow wild yet methodical - swing with the blade, beat with the club. His weapons were heavy in his hands, the momentum of the strikes leading him forward. He couldn’t think too much now - he didn’t want to. Jongin felt like a wild animal.

Sehun didn’t speak a word to Jongin until they reached the top deck and passed Minseok into Zitao’s care. The deck was calm, now, with bound hostages remaining mostly still in haphazard rows on the floor. Luhan was gone, perhaps further below deck to help the others, but Yifan remained to oversee the hostages while Zitao waited patiently with medical supplies apparently stolen from the Titania’s stocks.

The sun was now high in the sky.

All of them were careful to maintain a collected front while their hostages were watching, Zitao only nodding in understanding at the sight of the wound before removing the coat from Minseok’s shoulders, leaving it on the floor beside them as he set to work.

Jongin could only stare at the red, sodden coat silently for a long while, until Sehun led him back to the lower deck by the wrist.

“Thank you,” Sehun said at last, giving Jongin a weary smile. “If this weren’t the end, I’d have said you should try twin swords, like Jongdae.”

Jongin didn’t have an answer for him. He’d forgotten how to speak. The younger boy seemed to understand, though, and took his club back from Jongin’s hand with a little more lingering contact than necessary. Jongin didn’t watch the exchange - he could feel it just fine, blood spreading over his own skin at the touch.

Sehun cleared his throat. “I’ll go back for the guys you knocked out - go cover some more ground, and stay safe.”

Stay safe, the voice in Jongin’s mind sounded like Sehun, at first, but as the two of them parted ways and the dark, damp wooden labyrinth surrounded Jongin once more, it began to shift. Promise me you won’t die.

Promise me you won’t die.

Jongin had been alone too long, no sign of any friends nor foes anywhere when it finally caught up with him, hit him, pierced through his chest and sent him stumbling to his knees, bracing himself on the wall as his sword clattered to the floor.

Promise me you won’t die.

Jongin squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to breathe. The silence was roaring in his ears, louder and louder. He wanted to scream, but hadn’t the breath left in him.

He thought of Sehun, blood smeared over his face as he clutched at it frantically - but this time, it was his own.

He thought of Zitao, working on the top decks, swarmed by hostages with no time to prepare. Medical supplies wouldn’t save him then.

He thought of Yifan, backed against the side of the Titania, with the choice of leaping over the edge or using his final bullet to tear the satisfaction of killing him from the grasp of the surrounding enemies.

Promise me you won’t die.

He thought of Chanyeol, crashing to the ground as his wooden leg could no longer hold him. He thought of Baekhyun, holding on tightly to Chanyeol until the bitter end, the last thing either of them would ever see, ever feel, each other.

He thought of Luhan, his own weapons turned against him; blade to his throat and clanking chains reflected in wide, fearful eyes.

He thought of Jongdae, whispering apologies to the ring on his finger with his final breath. Apologies that he couldn’t keep his promise. Apologies that he wouldn’t be coming home.

Promise me you won’t die.

He thought of Minseok, arms squeezing tightly around his middle as he panted desperately, as if it would help. Minseok scrabbling at the sodden fabric covering his wounds as he tried to hold on just a little longer. Just a little longer.

He thought of Kyungsoo.

Promise me

He thought of Kyungsoo’s coat, the gleaming buttons chipped and dull, the handsome fabric stained deeply with blood that seeped into the floorboards below.

You won’t die

He kept thinking of Kyungsoo. He didn’t want to. He had to stop. He needed to stop.

He thought of Kyungsoo, eyes blown wide with shock and stumbling back against the door of the Sapphire captain’s quarters. He thought of Kyungsoo’s hands cupping his face as they kissed, only to be dripping red when they pulled away. He thought of Kyungsoo.

Promise me

Jongin stopped thinking.

Jongin fell to the floor and hid his face in his hands.

Promise me you won’t die.

 

Jongin didn’t know how long he was down there for.

He didn’t feel time passing.

He didn’t feel anything.

Why hadn’t he followed Kyungsoo? Why hadn’t he gone to back him up? Even if taking on the captain of the Titania had been Kyungsoo’s battle to fight...what if he never even got there?

I should have gone with him, Jongin felt like crying, but however much he willed them to, no tears could reach his eyes. I should have done what Baekhyun did, and stayed with him.

He hunched over, pulling his knees towards his chest. He can’t die. We’re going to go to the Onyx Isles together. He took a breath - inhale, shaky, uneven, unsteady, exhale. The silence echoed louder. Shining coat buttons smeared scarlet flashed behind his eyes. We’re going to make it. We’re going to start a new life together. I’m going to see him again.

Aren’t I?

There were no shouts from the top deck. There were no thumping footsteps. There were no gunshots, no clashes of blades, no screams of pain.

Jongin’s chest ached. Bringing shaking hands up to his necklace, fingertips resting gingerly on the gems, he took another deep breath. Promise me, Kyungsoo, that you won’t die.

“Hey!”

Jongin’s heart skipped a beat, two, three. He frantically reached around for his sword, but it was too far away.

When he looked up, his blood ran cold at the sight of a Sapphire sailor, armed with a gleaming sword, standing in the doorway.

I’m sorry, Kyungsoo. He hid his face in his knees and covered his head, eyes shut tight. I broke my promise. I’m sorry. I-

“Are you alright…?”

Jongin paused.

“Hey...look at me. Come on, look up.” Jongin hated this, finding himself meek and useless, but he lacked the capacity to do anything but obediently follow orders. The man had crouched down a little, now, and was looking at Jongin with some kind of...concern? “Are you okay?”

Jogin wanted to ask why, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. The sailor smiled at him gently, but Jongin struggled to concentrate on that when he was all too aware of the blade currently resting half on the floor at the man’s side.

“You’re one of ours, aren’t you? I remember your face.” I don’t remember yours, Jongin wanted to say, but again, nothing came out. The man was older than him, probably older than his father was. He had never seen this man in his life. “I saw you boarding the Angel earlier this year, from the Sapphire docks…” His smile was kind. Jongin felt like he was going to throw up for real this time. “Did they take you prisoner?”

His mind was spinning.

Jongin thought back, back, further and further back until the last time he could remember feeling so vividly, painfully helpless. He thought back to dark hallways, splinter-ridden hands clinging tightly to the handle of a mop, cowering in the dark as his crew fell like flies. To held gazes, gentle touches, silent mercy. To being thrown out for slaughter, to grazing his knees on the boards of the deck, to saying his prayers.

To hesitant kisses, secrets hidden, secrets nervously shared.

To passion, to protection, to darkened holds and raging storms and sandy beaches where the world ended at their fingertips.

He could take it all back, if he wanted. If he just said yes.

But Jongin had already had enough of saying yes. There was only one man to whom he would keep saying yes, and that man was somewhere else on this nightmare of a ship.

For a long time, Kyungsoo had told Jongin that he had the right to say no.

Now was the time.

“I…” He began, voice cracking.

“Yes?”

“I…” Jongin let his hand slip into his trouser pocket, fingers clasping tightly around what awaited them there. He looked up at the Sapphire sailor, then, and stared him straight in the eyes. Large, shining eyes, gleaming somehow in the dark room. Jongin almost felt bad.

Promise me you won’t die. The words wrapped themselves around his heart, closing in around it like the softest, warmest armour. “I’m a pirate.”

Before the other man could respond, Jongin rushed to stand, his hand leaving his pocket with the feathered dagger tight in his grip and slashing the other straight across the face. He stumbled back with a gasp, giving Jongin time to brace himself on the wall behind him before rushing forward again. He threw a messy punch into the Sapphire’s throat, then his shoulder, sending him staggering backwards again as the blade dropped from his hand with a clang.

Blade. Jongin retrieved his own from where it lay on the floor. He had no time to think, only to act, throwing his entire body weight into his opponent in an attempt to get him onto the ground. He was saying words, but Jongin didn’t hear them. He didn’t care. There was only one voice he cared to hear now, and he would do anything he had to so he could hear it again.

The first coherent thought Jongin had had in a long time came just as he brought the hilt of his sword down heavily onto the man’s head. I would have done better with a club, like Sehun. He mused, slipping his dagger back into his pocket and cautiously checking if his opponent was conscious. Just a pulse.

The weight of the now-unconscious sailor kept Jongin grounded, he found, as he did his best to transport him to the top deck. The soft shuffling sounds of his clothes against the floorboards gave him something to concentrate on, the ache in his left shoulder serving as a beating drum to which he timed his steps.

It wasn’t dignified, dragging someone around this way, but there was nobody around to help him. They’re on the top deck, Jongin told himself every time the images from before crossed his mind. His breath hitched. He shook his head. It gave him a headache, but that didn’t matter. They’re all waiting for me. They’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.

Bump bump, inelegantly, he climbed the stairs with his hostage in tow, and with a quivering hand pushed open the door to the top deck.

The sun was starting to dip again, but it was still bright enough. Six familiar faces, exhausted and bloody, smiled back at him - two more were preoccupied, Zitao kneeling on the boards of the deck and guiding Minseok through what appeared to be breathing exercises.

“Ah another one. That means we’re only missing one now…” Yifan glanced at the hostages with a slight frown. “The captain himself. Luhan, Sehun, bind this one, will you?”

“Only one will be necessary,” Jongin internally cringed at how rough his own voice was, “he’s not responsive.”

“Luhan then.” The slighter man scurried over in an instant to relieve Jongin of his hostage, ropes looped loosely around his arms. Luhan was sporting some impressive gashes across his face, but otherwise didn’t seem too much worse for wear. “Did you see Ca-....did you see him anywhere below?” Jongin shook his head, and Yifan frowned again, harsh eyebrows almost knitting together. “Okay…”

Hoping the time was right to be excused, Jongin pushed past Yifan to crouch beside Zitao, placing a hand hesitantly on Minseok’s shoulder - now bare as Zitao had gotten rid of the bloodstained shirt in short order, presumably to better assess the injury proper. The quartermaster was still pale, but seemed to be breathing somewhat regularly now. “How...how is he?” Jongin whispered, not turning towards Zitao to do so. There was an ache in his chest again - he’d been so preoccupied on the coat, Kyungsoo’s coat, being bloodied the way it was, it hadn’t really settled in that Minseok was injured. He felt horrible.

“He’ll be okay,” Zitao murmured back. “The wounds aren’t deep, and nothing vital was damaged. It looks a lot worse than it is, I think.”

Minseok couldn’t speak, still, but Jongin shot him a smile anyway.

They stood there for a while, just watching, waiting.

Sometimes the hostages would get rowdy. Most of those times, Yifan would wave his gun around again. A couple of times, he fired it. Jongin didn’t mind the sound - it was almost a welcome distraction from his own thoughts.

“Let’s go back below deck and see what we can find,” Jongdae announced suddenly, when it became apparent that neither of the two ships’ captains would be returning to the top deck any time soon. “Food supplies, treasures, what have you. We’ll go in pairs so we can carry things - Baekhyun, Chanyeol, stick together.” The pair did so, holding each other’s hands tightly. Jongin felt that dull ache again. “Sehun, Luhan, you two as well. Jongin, come with me.”

It was different, being below deck with someone else, Jongin thought as they made their way through the twisting halls. Sapphire weaponry was littered about the place, and Jongin starting to pick them up while they went along.

Jongdae offered to help, and Jongin almost let him, until he got a proper look at Jongdae’s right arm.

“Oh my god.” He inhaled sharply when his eyes rested on the massive slash down Jongdae’s forearm. The blood was already drying over, but it was...nasty. “No, leave the sharp things to me.” His voice was still shaky, but getting better, just a little.

“If you say so,” Jongdae just whistled calmly. “It’s not that bad, I mean, number one is still alright.”

Jongin couldn’t say no to that. “Yeah, at least you’re alive.”

“Hm? Oh, that’s number two.” He was about to ask Jongdae what number one was, but the older pirate already had an answer for him. He held up his left hand.

The ring was completely undamaged.

“Jongdae, you didn’t get yourself sliced up to protect that, did you?”

Jongdae just whistled louder, and Jongin resigned himself to not getting any kind of sensible response from him. They walked in amiable silence for a while until, by chance, they stumbled across the hold.

It was glorious. Clearly on a return voyage from the Diamond Isles, the hold was piled to the ceiling with gleaming treasures. The two pirates shared a grin before getting to work on transporting the boxes and barrels and bags to the upper deck.

Every time they emerged from the lower deck and into daylight, the sun slipped just a little bit further out of the sky. The spoils piled higher, the sun fell further and further.

The sky began to change colour, slowly, from cool blue to a soft orange hue. Eventually, the pirates began moving their spoils - treasure, food, medicine, seized weaponry - onto the Calling Siren. Anything to pass the time. Anything to keep a united front as the increasingly agitated hostages looked on.

“We all do weird things for love, don’t we?” Jongdae hissed to Jongin as they hauled a crate of silks over the makeshift bridge between the ships. “Look at me, look at Baekhyun and Chanyeol,” Jongin didn’t really want to. They were alright, at least, but not unharmed. Baekhyun’s hair was wild, an enormous bruise blossoming across his face, while Chanyeol’s clothing was torn and his wooden leg sported new nicks and notches it hadn’t before. “Look at you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” Jongdae grinned, and somehow even with blood caught on his teeth, it was dazzling. Something about it calmed Jongin down, just a little bit. “You.”

The sky was vivid orange by now, the clouds gathering overhead in violent shades of hot pink, purple and soft greys.

Minseok still hadn’t spoken, but he’d managed a smile, just once.

Some of the hostages had passed out in their ropes.

The spoils were all on the deck of the Siren, waiting to be put away.

Kyungsoo still hadn’t come back, and Jongin was struggling to force down that nauseous feeling that threatened to return every time he let his gaze rest too long on the doors to the lower decks. The coat had been moved away a while ago, thankfully.

But Jongin still saw it, every time he closed his eyes.

There was a feeling of unease among the crew of the Siren, then. Nobody could breathe a word of concern for the captain’s whereabouts, lest the hostages find out they were vulnerable. No, they had to stand strong, and stand silent.

And wait.

You have to come back, Jongin rested his hands on his necklace again, the threaded bracelet slipping down his wrist. Everyone else came back. Everyone else is going to have their happy ending. We need to have ours too, Kyungsoo.

The wind blew. The doors remained closed.

We need our happy ending, Kyungsoo.

Jongdae ran out of tunes to whistle.

Yifan ran out of bullets to fire.

Jongin ran out of prayers to say.

The doors remained closed.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol made it. Jongdae will be able to keep his promise to Yixing. Sehun can send a letter back to his lover in the Emerald Bay. Zitao, Yifan, Minseok, Luhan, they all have their lives ahead of them now. He could feel his shoulders begin to shake. Oh no. No. Not here. Not now. You have to make it. You have to come back.

He clenched his fists.

Please come back.

It was agonising, every second that passed was torture. He could feel the wind on his skin, through his hair, in thick sweeping movements as though it were in slow motion.

The door opened.

Heavy footsteps on low-heeled boots clacked towards them, deafeningly loud on the otherwise silent deck. Nobody dared to say a word, Jongin wasn’t sure if he remembered how to breathe.

There was blood on his sword. There was blood on his clothes. It was everywhere, there was red, so much red. But for the first time that day, Jongin’s eyes couldn’t even register it. Not when resting in the middle of Kyungsoo’s chest, on a gleaming golden chain, was a heart-cut gem shining in more colours than Jongin had ever known existed. He felt like he was going to be sick, but in a good way, this time.

Kyungsoo didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look up, silently making his way through the crowd and over the bridge towards the Calling Siren. With nothing more than a fleeting glance between them, the rest of the crew followed.

The bridge was pulled up, and silently, silently, the Siren began to move again, the Sapphire hostages growing smaller and smaller until they were reduced to only tiny specks in the distance.

The evening wind began to blow, softly caressing Jongin’s skin and easing the pain in wounds he never even realised he had. Zitao began quietly assessing the crew members in turn, wiping streaks of dirt and dried blood from their skin with a gentle smile, growing wider and wider as the pile of discarded, dirty cloths beside him grew taller and taller.

Kyungsoo didn’t go to Zitao. Kyungsoo only watched as the Titania disappeared on the horizon. Jongin wasn’t sure what to do - he didn’t want to disturb him, but he was feeling so much. He didn’t even know what he wanted, but maybe he needed some time to figure that out, first. Maybe they all needed time to think.

He thought that, before stumbling loudly over his own feet.

Laughing nervously, he righted himself, but when he looked up, the tiny throbbing pain that had welled up in his ankles was immediately forgotten.

Large, dark eyes met his, and all of a sudden he couldn’t breathe all over again. Kyungsoo moved first, pushing off from the side of the Siren and breaking into a sprint towards Jongin. After a moment’s pause, Jongin found himself running, too, arms spread out in anticipation for something that he wasn’t even sure would come.

The Clacks and thuds of their footsteps were lost as Jongin’s pulse pounded in his ears.

The caws of the gulls overhead were lost as Kyungsoo swept Jongin into his arms without a word. Words were meaningless. They had all the time in the world for words.

The shimmering Siren’s Soul practically beating between their chests, the soft gasps of their crewmates, too, were lost, as Kyungsoo cupped Jongin’s face in his hands and pulled him close, for the first kiss of the rest of their lives.