Over the next few weeks, Taemin learned that life on the Island didn’t consist of sitting around idly, waiting for the Four to return. The other twelve boys kept busy, everybody finding something to do—washing clothes, chopping firewood, helping Kyungsoo cook. Taemin helped Jongin and a few others collect wood to build a fence that would encircle the encampment of tents, protecting it from any outside danger.

“Has anything from the jungle ever actually…you know…attacked the camp?” Taemin asked tentatively one day, about a month after he’d arrived. He and Jongin were dividing up the wooden raft which had brought him to the Island, preparing to convert it into panels for a fence. Jongin shook his head, his hands busy measuring the pieces.

“Not yet,” he said ominously. “But you never know.”

Ever since Jongin had shown Taemin his scars, the latter had been very careful not to ask too many questions. It wasn’t that he no longer had any—in fact, his head seemed to sprout more everyday—he just…wasn’t so sure he wanted to know the answers anymore. Not after hearing about what had happened to Jongin.

Life on the Island was grim. No one really said it out oud, but Taemin knew that everyone was just doing their best to get through each day. The busywork, the menial tasks that they occupied their time with—it didn’t mean anything. They were all just trying to keep their minds off of how depressing the situation really was.

Taemin looked up and caught a distant view of the mainland in the corner of his vision. He paused, taking a moment to stare at it. It was their only real hope—that little piece of green on the horizon. Everyday the Four would return from the jungle looking like they’d just been through hell and back, immediately retreating into their shared tent to talk about what they’d seen. Taemin wondered if they were actually getting anywhere; after all, it had been a year and a half since they’d arrived, and so far it didn’t seem as if they were any closer to finding a way of reaching the mainland than when they’d first begun.

He shook the dismal thoughts from his head; stuff like this would drive him crazy. If everyone was so down all the time, they probably all would have died a long time ago. He had to toughen up, hang onto that tiny thread of hope that was the mainland—keep himself sane, somehow.

Somehow.

“Hyung,” Jongin said, pulling Taemin out of the deep abyss of his thoughts. He blinked and found the other giving him an odd look.

“Are you alright? You’ve been clutching that one piece of wood so hard your knuckles turned white.”

Taemin looked down, to see that Jongin was right. He quickly let go of the wooden plank and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of all confusing thoughts. “I’m fine,” he replied. Jongin still looked unconvinced, but before he could say anything Taemin quickly changed the subject.

“So I’ve been wondering…why do you think we’ve all been put here?”

Jongin gave him an strange look, and Taemin bit his lip, hoping the other would take the bait. He’d just blurted out the first thing to pop into his head. To his relief, however, Jongin’s face molded into a thoughtful expression after a moment, and he seemed to seriously consider Taemin’s question.

“Well,” Jongin began, returning his attention to the raft, “I guess we must have all committed crimes or something. I mean, why else would anyone stick a bunch of kids onto a deserted island?”

“So you think this place is, like, some sort of prison?” Taemin asked. Jongin nodded absentmindedly, occupied with the tape measure in his hand, while Taemin mulled this over. “I guess that’s a possibility,” he mused at last, half to himself. “But how could any of us be criminals? I mean, just look at us. Look at you!” he finished triumphantly. The younger glanced up at him, puzzled.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” Taemin said, rolling his eyes. “Just measure your raft.”

As Jongin obediently did so, Taemin turned away to face the sea, still thinking hard. While he couldn’t find any other plausible explanation for their circumstances, he just didn’t believe they’d all been put here as a punishment. And how bad must their crimes have been to deserve such a punishment, anyway? Abruptly he turned back to Jongin, who was kneeling in the sand with his brow furrowed in concentration as his lips silently mouthed numbers—and his conviction grew. No. There was simply no way they were all criminals.

For Jongin was much too innocent.

◊◊◊

Taemin awoke suddenly to the sound of waves. He laid there for a moment, staring up at the dark canvas of the tent above him and pondering the reason he’d been awoken. At last he concluded that Jongin must have emitted a particularly loud snore, and turned over in his sleeping bag, snuggling his face down into the crook of his elbow and waiting for sleep to return.

Jongin.

Taemin’s eyebrows knit, and he shut his eyes tighter, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head. Jongin, it repeated, and Taemin was just thinking how irritating the voice was when suddenly it struck him—he didn't hear Jongin’s usual soft snores.

Taemin sat up quickly, looking around the tent, and his eyes landed on Jongin’s empty sleeping bag. Trying not to feel too worried, Taemin swiftly got up and slipped out of the tent.

The beach was beautiful at night, boasting a velvety sky filled with thousands of stars winking down at him from above. It was simultaneously mysterious and enchanting—almost rivaling the magnificence of the sunset. In fact, Taemin might have just stood there and stared up at the sky all night long had not a growing anxiety concerning Jongin’s whereabouts been festering in the pit of his stomach. He quickly tore his gaze away from the stars and scanned the silent beach.

His eyes landed on a lone figure by the sea, and his breath caught in his throat. Because there was Jongin—bathed in moonlight—dancing. His body moved to the music of the waves, lean and graceful and silky smooth. Taemin felt drawn to this beautiful dancer, involuntarily taking a step towards him. And another. And another.

Soon he was only about ten feet away from Jongin, and still the other hadn’t noticed, too caught up in his dancing to be aware of anything else. Taemin would have been satisfied simply watching the younger dance for the rest of the night, but then Jongin stopped, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. And Taemin couldn’t help himself.

“Is this what you do every night?”

Jongin jumped about ten feet in the air, causing Taemin to practically keel over in silent laughter. The wide-eyed look on the other boy’s face made it all even funnier. “Hyung,” Jongin hissed, looking mortified, as Taemin continued to drown in amusement.

“Sorry,” he gasped out at last, trying to catch his breath. “But—but is it?”

Jongin’s cheeks flushed, and he hesitated, dropping his gaze to the ground.

“No,” he answered finally, kicking at the sand, “only when I can’t fall asleep.” He bit his lip, lifting his eyes back up to Taemin’s face, and the elder felt his heart freeze in his chest as Jongin asked timidly,

“Would…would you like to join me?”

Taemin wasn’t really sure what possessed him to mumble an “okay” and take a few hesitant steps towards Jongin, not quite aware of what he was agreeing to. All he knew was that, the moment they began moving together to the rhythm of the waves, something magical seemed to happen. A warm feeling spread from the center of Taemin’s chest all the way down to his toes, a joy that only grew as his and Jongin’s bodies moved together in perfect harmony, complementing one another in a way that only years of experience could achieve. And somehow Taemin knew instinctively that this was what he’d been born to do—this was who he had been before coming to the Island, before his life had been snatched away from him.

He’d been a dancer.

And so had Jongin, for he was amazingly fluid, every little movement filled with poise and yet power at the same time. As they whirled to face each other and their eyes met, Taemin thought the younger had never looked more beautiful.

Time froze as the two of them just stood there for a moment, panting slightly, staring at each other. And, just as Jongin’s dancing had drawn Taemin to him before, the younger’s deep brown eyes seemed to lure him in, pulling him like a magnet. Taemin stopped, their faces only inches apart, and he drank in every little detail of the younger’s face— from the long, dark eyelashes that framed his eyes to his full, soft-looking lips. “Jongin,” he breathed, his eyelids fluttering shut as the other’s warm breath ghosted across his face…and then suddenly it was gone.

Taemin’s eyes flew open, just in time to catch Jongin disappearing into their tent. He unconsciously brought his fingers to his lips, and a shiver tore through him as he turned to face the sea, wondering what on earth had just happened.

A/N: hope you all enjoyed the chapter! comments are much appreciated. <3