(Y/N) POV:

"You know... it seems like a long time ago you were looking you wanted to shove a gag in my mouth to shut me up."

"You're going blind if you think that's not the case still Park."

"Don't lie... you're getting soft. All bark...no bite."

"I don't see you complaining about the marks I leave."

"And you won't hear one. I'm just saying I think you could use a bit more force, get a bit rougher... I wouldn't mind wearing a bite mark if it came from you."

"And I'm the one getting soft?"

"I'll tell you what's not getting soft—"

"Oh fuck off... think with your head and not your dick for once will you?"

"I think I wouldn't mind some head—"

"I will bite your dick if you're trying to get some action right now."

"Kinky."

"So is a gag in your mouth and it gets you to shut up for a bit."

"Oh don't lie... you love hearing my voice."

"I could go deaf and not miss it."

"I couldn't go deaf."

"No?"

"I'd miss the sounds you make—"

"I swear to fucking god Park—"

"The dulcet tones of your rage... the sound you make when you're frustrated and pissed, sand you can't scream it at the top of your lungs... your blades on the ice... the way you laugh—all breathless when you get something right..."

My words pause.

My mind pauses too.

Oh.

There's an uncharacteristic softness and dare I say... sentimentality in Jimin's voice, head trained upwards, and lips curled up in a loose, easy smile. Voice musing. The small snippets of sound, of me he's remembered over time. Not sure what to make of it, of the fact that somehow knowing these small things, making these small observations have somehow left me feeling barer than taking my clothes off in front of him. Left my skin feeling warm and flushed without a gaze trained on me. Unsure of what to do or what to make of the quiet depth pooled in his eyes when he turns his head slowly, grinning at me.

What am I meant to do with this information Park? What am I meant to do? Feel?

A stuttering unevenness in the way my heart skips a beat and then rapidly accelerates to compensate for it. Cheeks heating with the betrayal of the sound, so sure that in the quiet, in the stunned silence, that it will echo loudly in the room. Reveal the fact he's caught me off guard.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teases, a lilted softness to his voice, hair mussed, slightly damp where it's still drying.

"I knew you couldn't take your eyes off me, but I didn't realise you noticed so many things." I utter finally.

I hadn't realised Jimin's eyes creased, crinkling into crescent-moons as he smiles, hadn't quite noticed that when he smiles, teeth all pearly, there's a chip on a tooth.

He's kinda...sorta... pretty.

Cheek squished against his palm as he props himself up to peer at me. He's kind of... soft.

The thought slowly trickles through my mind, sugary slow warmth that pools in my stomach and makes butterflies flutter.

It's not the first instant that something about Jimin, like this, lowers my guards. It's not the first instant where seeing a different side of Jimin seems to reboot the thoughts in my head. It's not the first time but it doesn't lessen the jolt that rushes through my blood, that speeds up my pulse at realising that something's shifting, something's changing and I don't know where to begin with processing it.

[......]

There's already anger crackling in his eyes before his hands fall on me, impatient and burning, hands curling into the waistband of my leggings, yanking them down. Legs stumbling for footing before he sinks to his knees, hand dragging a leg over his shoulder. Rough biting kisses trailing their way up the inside of my thigh and then pleasure splintering through me so sudden, so intensely, back arching from the door. Hand fisting into his hair, a broken sound of his name, nails against his scalp, hips bucking up to his lips and tongue.

"Fuck—"

"What the hell Jimin?" breaths ragged, lungs aching for air, body shuddering at the violent pleasure that wracks it.

Hands slower, still burning against my skin, less impatient but still wanting, wanting, wanting as they drag across my skin, trail upwards, hand curling tight against my nape, lips bruising as they crush against mine.

Pent up frustration and fury in the way his fingers grip at me, mouth demanding against mine. Teeth sharp at my lip.

Hand fisting tighter into his hair, yanking his mouth from mine, eyes bottomless black depths as they stare at me, his own hand fisting into my shirt, knuckles dragging against my skin. Body scorching where his touch presses me further and further into him.

"I need—I need you." breaths ragged with want.

"Wait... wait..." breaths sharp, fingers curling into his shoulders, head tilting back to invite the rough press of his mouth downwards, lips branded by his. Hand unfurling from his shirt to shove him back, head spinning with want but even through that heavy fog, I can tell something's off with the way he's near frantic, desperate with his movements, the way his hands still feverishly cling to me, tugging me nearer despite the push to get him to move back.

It feels different to be wild with reckless abandon, it feels different to be the one making him feel this needy, this wanting. But this... this feels different altogether. This feels like he needs to have me, to use this...whatever this is to make himself forget.

"What? Let me just—"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"What's wrong Par—I can tell something's bothering you Jimin."

"We don't need to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it."

"Something's pissed you off."

"It's fine, just drop it okay?"

Hands dropping from my waist, falling at his sides. But there's a tautness to his expression, to the hardness of his jaw and to the flicker of something bitter and angry in his eyes before he drags his eyes away. After long moments the tension uncoils slightly, shoulders slumping. Heavy and regretful.

A heavy shaky exhale pressed into the space between us.

"Fuck-- I'm sorry...I shouldn't have..." fingers curling tight as he takes a step back, body feeling cold, bereft of the press of his.

Hands consciously straightening out my clothes, feeling my own falter when his hands help smoothen out my clothes, drag the leggings back up my legs.

And then a quiet, unspoken apology in the gentler squeeze of hands briefly at my waist before remorseful eyes peer at me.

"Sorry." voice hushed.

"I don't mind burning off anger together but—I dunno...something feels off with you." I shrug, letting myself walk further into my room, hear the quieter treads as he follows rather than leaves.

I don't know why it appeases some part of me that he stayed rather than leaving.

That he chose to stay anyways.

"Just a shit day. On top of a shit week. On top of shit being said." a heavy sigh, a quieter subduedness to his voice that's so rare, so out of place that my eyes flicker upwards, searching, even as I sink onto the bed, as his body sinks down beside mine. Jimin's gaze trained on his hands.

Should I reach out? Hand stretching out briefly before faltering, shoulder nudging to his instead.

"I told you. My offer still stands. Say the word and I'll--"

"Beat my Coach up for me?"

My knee nudges against his.

A rueful, tired look on his face as he tries to muster a smile.

It falters.

"He gets these really intense moods...he's always tightly strung before any competitions."

"He's meant to ground you guys. Not project his own failures and criticisms."

"It's not—it's just not that easy you know? Or I guess...you don't. Not this way." despairing and resigned in a way that makes an ache sit heavy in my chest.

"I get it Jimin--" I begin but his voice has a defensiveness to it, a sharp edge to it that makes me falter, that makes my body stiffen.

"You don't. You don't have a Coach that pushes you to the limits. Your Coaches guide every step...they're there to pick up the pieces, they're there to—God— to do anything you need them to. Without criticism. Without fault."

"I'm not pushed to my limits?" voice testy.

"Not-- not in that way. Just—not with the coaching style Coach Choi prefers. You get that right?"

"That he works you off your ass? Yeah, I'm familiar with what that feels like." voice blunter. Failing to soften my voice, seeing no reason to. Feeling riled, targeted, undermined in his own frustrations.

"I get that. I know that... fucking hell you don't think I see how hard you work? How much it takes to look that put together and polished? I do... I really do. I just wish...I wish my Coach wasn't so--"

His retreat, words receding, eyes miserable and apologetic makes something inside my chest crack with sympathy, with an ache. This time my hand reaches out and clasps his arm. Fingers against skin.

"...one of these days..." I begin carefully.

Feel his head turn.

Body tilting the slightest fraction inwards to me.

"One of these days you're going to reach a limit. And you'll have to say no. You'll have to say stop..."

Fingers tracing the line of his veins, trace them across his forearm, the back of his hand. Fingers close enough all I'd need to do is lace them together.

I don't.

Fingertips slowly mapping the ridge of veins against his skin.

"You shouldn't have to break to understand your own boundary."

[......]

He's hateful. And vile. And poisonous.

Words barbed and venomous.

He wants me to hurt.

He truly wants me to hurt, to ache. He wants his words to strike harder than any physical blow.

He wants me to crumble.

He wants to see me on my knees for a guy who saw me nothing more than a quick, easy fuck. He wants to remind me that's all I was good for. That's where I was meant to be.

He looks at me with pure rage consuming his eyes and a voice so cold and sharp I feel his words weight sink like an icicle driving itself into the depth of my chest, burying itself into flesh and blood.

He wants me to bleed. And weep. And break.

Over and over.

Barbed words tearing themselves into my flesh over and over, the ice spinning, world tumbling and then a thud, bones slamming into the rink's barrier, limbs felled. Body falling, falling. And then cold.

So cold.

Breaths shaky.

And it's easier to just lie still when the world's spinning out of control and everything's blurring, pain splintering across my face and disoriented.

Fingers and cheek against the cold ice, feel it melt under the heat of my skin, fingers curling into it for comfort, for some willpower to push myself straight.

"Not everyone has everything handed to them on a silver platter." Words ringing in my ears, hammering louder with each throbbing pulse of pained heat that flares across my skin.

"You have it handed to you because you're the Captain's partner"

Koo.

Breath shaky and then lips slowly moving.

"Koo."

But he's not here. He's not here and I never told him. The throbbing in my head sharpens.

"You know you fall short. You know why ice princess? You know why (L/N)? Cos you can sit out a routine... a whole fucking season and it's fine and little Miss Prodigy comes back next season all sparkling and doted on."

Pain seeps from my mouth, tongue feeling heavy, trying to lift my head but it feels heavy and the ice feels cold. Comforting. Feels like a balm soothing the ringing in my ears, the hot heaviness in my eyes, the ache in my chest.

Fingers stretching out across scuffed up ice, trying to push upright, body drained from the adrenaline and the anger and restlessness, and I just feel—hollow. As if something's been carved out.

"He'll pull your weight."

Arms scooping me up, voice and eyes frantic, bleeding with a panic, grip tight and expression fraught with anxiousness, teeth gnawing at his lips. Eyes darting back to me, arms cradling me tight to his chest.

Pulling weight, pulling weight. A different pain ripples through me, no less sharper, breath pinching.

"...m sorry. Koo m sorry." words pinched, fingers curled into his shirt. Feeling the erraticness of his pulse against my knuckles, feel a swelling wave of guilt and shame, eyes squeezing shut tightly.

"s okay (Y/N)... we'll get you to the medic bay."

Arms cradling me.

Pulling weight.

"Fucking see me now asshole." I mutter, jaw tightly clenched as my limbs melt, fold and bend backwards, skates dragging sideways against the ice, propelling myself across the ice with the momentum I've built. The tips of my fingertips skimming across the ice. Body stretched out and still moving. Arms stretched out behind me, feel the tight coil in my legs, keeping them bent near-flat against the cold surface.

The glower morphs into a breathless satisfied grin, catching from the corner of my eyes as Kook skates closer, the tips of his fingers grazing mine before they lower to curl around my wrists. To draw my glide across the ice back upwards, back against his, bodies skating in sync. Mirrored perfect halves of each other.

Vindication, every microsecond of his movements in sync with mine, his breaths and heart are an echo of my own. So attuned, so perfectly in harmony that I feel his pulse against my back, inside my ribs, breaths laced together, steady and controlled in their constancy.

"Fucking nailed it icicle!" words laughing and thrilled as we skate together, blades picking up pace, body being abruptly twisted so I'm looking into shining eyes, lips stretched wide with pride. Grinning toothy and scrunching, hands falling to my hips, prepping to lift me up.

His pride and giddiness makes my own smile stretch wider, that same bubbly feeling lighting up my veins, fizzing with exhilaration. And that feeling soars when his hands squeeze once before he lifts me.

Hands slipping down to grip the back of my calves.

"Sure?"

Questioning, eyes tracing the position his own legs fall into, perfect right angles, torso pushing back a fraction, eyes trusting and bolstering.

The sharp line of the blades balanced on his thighs until my balance is steadied, until he's drawing the two of us in a slower, winding, weaving pattern on the ice. The weight of his hands at the back of my calves familiar, their press solid and comforting in equal measure.

The fizzy giddy feeling wells up higher, somehow limbs connected and not. Extensions of each other and yet... yet complete support and faith, my entire weight and balance depending entirely on Koo's own strength and balance. On the hands at my calves, arms extended behind in imitation of a bird in flight.

"He pulls your weight." The words slither in my mind. But their usual scathing tone, their sharp coldness doesn't cut.

In fact, the unyielding strength of the fire in Kook's gaze as he slowly draws me back, a bird's wings settling, a constant steadiness even after my skates settle on the ice... the entire time Kook holds me, skates with me, pulls my weight, he looks damn fucking proud about it. In me. In him. Damn well proud that he's more than capable of pulling my weight.

See that Park?

That's what trust looks like. That's what it feels when my partner's got my weight. But I fucking well can hold his too.

Should've seen that Park. Pity.

And my heart continues to soar, higher and higher, even long after I'm not airborne.

See me now Park. See what you let go of.

It's vicious pride that burns through me. A deeply rooted sense of satisfaction, of worth, of accomplishment, bought bubbling up to the surface until it spills over into the thrilled laugh, the hands lacing tighter with Kook's as he spins me around the ice in a whirl of elation.

That sense of I did it, no matter what you tried to do ripples through me, seeps into breath and bones, blood and heartbeat.

"I told you..." voice gentler, eyes still sparkling as Kook sets me down, grinning ear to ear, scrunchiest smile, voice slightly breathless.

"Told me what?"

"Told you you weren't done giving~"

A knowingness in his eyes, as if somehow, unfailingly, he sees through me, right down to my core. As if he already knows where the anger and pride fizz and fuse together into a heady electric buzzing that continues to pulse through me.

As if he knows... knows me as easy as he knows himself.

As if knowing me is as easy as breathing.

"You did it. All by yourself. All without him." the words murmured quieter, brushing against my cheek.

"Always my biggest cheerleader." I smile.

He grins wider.

"I got two hyungs who'll fight me for it. But I win."

I win.

I win Koo.

Sweaty and gross but he doesn't protest when I yank him into a hug.

[......]

🎀: Don't throw a pissy fit eomma

🎀: But I'm gonna go for a swim

💪🐰: Want me to come with you?

💪🐰: Make sure you don't drown?

🎀: Well... a) if I drown it's cos you shoved me under water

🎀: And well b) the only reason I'd willingly drown is if I got a pretty tatted skater willing to give me the kiss of life~

💪🐰: I won't be kissing you or giving you life in any condition so keep your head over the water

🎀: Awww you care... deep down

💪🐰: Somewhere deep down

💪🐰: Too deep to find

🎀: Liar liar

💪🐰: So deep down it's at the bottom of that swimming pool...

💪🐰: Probably deeper

🎀: Act like you don't care when you just told me not to drown

🎀: Or is this reverse psychology

🎀: And to find your hidden depths

🎀: I gotta deep dive

💪🐰: ...

💪🐰: Do you really

💪🐰: Really

💪🐰: As a grown ass adult

💪🐰: As a woman (hurl you GREMLIN)

💪🐰: Need babysitting

💪🐰: To splash around in warm water?

💪🐰: Is this like giving your child a bath?

💪🐰: Cos you'll do some dumb shit like forget how to float

🎀: I'm not your child

🎀: ...I KNEW you had some sort of voyeurism kink

💪🐰: Choke.

💪🐰: Actually choke.

💪🐰: On chlorine.

💪🐰: And istg if you try kinkfy this I will come over to toss you into the deep end myself

🎀: ....I wasn't going to

🎀: Honestly

🎀: Where's the trust

🎀: Call yourself my partner

🎀: My other half

🎀: My kindred spirit

💪🐰: Your PRISONER

🎀: JEON JUNGKOOK YOU MEAN OVERGROWN MUSCLE BUN THAT'S NO WAY TO SPEAK TO YOUR BESTIE FROM DAY ONE

💪🐰: God—I seen the things you do for others

💪🐰: The people you give others

💪🐰: Why me?! why HER?!

🎀: You ungrateful little bitch

🎀: Maybe I don't want to swim

🎀: What if I want to come over and piss you off

💪🐰: Then I'll carry you to the swimming pool

💪🐰: Dump your ass there

💪🐰: Fully clothed

💪🐰: And then leave you

🎀: ....

🎀: Watch me turn up late to training tomorrow

💪🐰: Oh dumbbell... I dare you

🎀: ....

🎀: You're mean

🎀: I hate you

💪🐰: Hate you too

💪🐰: Don't drown

💪🐰: Goodnight

🎀: ...night Jeon

[......]

You shouldn't be here, a voice whispers inside my mind, treads soft and quiet against the tiled floor, skin pebbling with cold, hands briskly rubbing at my arms to warm myself up.

You're allowed to be here. Another voice combats.

Technically that was true, any facility on campus was open access to all enrolled athletes. Technically there wasn't anything out of place about it. You go to the dance studio all the time even if you're not a dancer. You even go to the tennis courts too these days. What's wrong with going to the swimming pool?

It's quiet in a way that campus never seems to be.

Quiet in a way that it feels completely isolated away from the rest of the campus buildings and the few stragglers I'd seen on the way.

Slow, careful steps before the hallway gapes open, ceiling stretching endlessly wide and open above my head, night pouring in through the skylights, eyes still adjusting to the darkness.

Skin cold, prickling and pebbling in the cold air, shuffling towards the pool's edge.

The waters gently ripple before I even lower myself down to sink into them, a jolt of cold before warmth seeps around me where the water sloshes slightly, sinking into its depths, letting it draw me down into them.

Waters disturbed, body relaxing as it stills.

The water seems dark, liquid ink that brushes against my limbs, that makes my limbs feel weightless in a similar way to skating at a rushing speed does. But everything's... slower in the water. Limbs moving languidly, water bobbing up and down against my sides, mind seeming to relax as it succumbs to the tranquil solitude.

It's odd how that restless feeling I'd mentioned, that antsy need to move seems to quieten in the waters. Exhale quiet.

Fingers wading through the water with a slow sluggishness, skimming over the surface before I move away from the pool's edge to slowly wade forward. To push away from the edge into the waters, slowly swimming forward.

The pool quickly warms my skin, chases away any remnants of chill, each stroke of my arms cutting through the water, precise and slow.

Unrushed.

Something about the emptiness, the large endless stretch of the water's void invites a languidness, a lazy relaxation that seems to help unfurl the tightness to my muscles. The aches seeming to be leeched away, the past few days of strenuous training falling away from the once-tightly locked stiffness in my legs.

Coming to a still in the centre of the pool, body bobbing up and down, hands dragging across my skin to wipe the water from my face, water streaking off my hair and shoulders, trickling back into the dark, depthless waters.

And in that quiet solitude, body relaxing in the waters something... something so quiet and minute shifts the air.

Not an uncertain feeling, not a sense of alarm, but something shifts in the quiet, something makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle, makes my skin feel hot.

The waters ripple even though I'm no longer moving, the swimming pool disturbed by someone surfacing, water sloshing loudly behind me.

Feel the heat of someone's gaze trained on my back. Feel the intensity in the quietness. A loudness in their silence. In the way they wait for me to turn. Something under my skin thrums, quickens and flares when I turn, eyes dragging over a muscled torso, over skin that drips with water, streaking down across a toned abdomen, across a broad chest and broader shoulders. Eyes tracing the motion of the water and then breaking their observation to drift upwards. Shadowed silhouette broad and imposing and filling the space right behind me, somehow his presence to loom large.

Water drips off the line of a thick neck, down the side of an angled jaw and clings heavy to dark curls.

And from behind dripping heavy curls, dark, curious eyes that seem to be endless in their depths. An intensity brews in their shadowed stare.

Entirely at ease in the waters, body disturbing the surface as he takes a single movement forward, wading forward a step.

"Got yourself lost siren?"

Oh.

Voice raspy and thick, its low timbre seems to make the water ripple, makes my skin burn hot a fraction, a shiver, that's nothing to do with cold, races down my spine.

Lips quirking up at the words, even if something inside me straightens at the way his eyes trace across my face, a lack of recognition in them. The dark weight of his curls remain fallen in front of his eyes, hiding them from full sight. The scouring slowness of his gaze trawling with an unrushed curiosity. Something sharp and hot about his eyes. Something about their deep depths that feel his gaze makes my skin burn under their scrutiny.

"A siren huh? Shouldn't you be running the other way then? Sirens aren't exactly what people go looking for." Voice whispery soft in its hushed lowness. Lips curving up at the way the corner of his mouth upturns. A half quirked smirk, amused. Eyes flashing.

"Didn't you know men would willingly drown themselves to get closer to a siren?"

Another slow waded step forward.

Something in the air crackles. Sharp. Static. Dangerous.

"You don't look like someone who would drown so easy for just anyone."

"Yet here I am. In a pool I've swum in for years, yet I don't ever remember seeing you. I'd remember a face like that."

"Maybe you've got a bad memory. Goldfish?"

A raspy echo of a laugh. Rich and deep.

Indulgent and thick. Melted chocolate.

"Nah I'd prefer being a mermaid any day."

"Not a merboy?"

"If you want me to be." Words easy, the offer easier.

"If I don't want you to be?"

"I did say I'd make a great mermaid." The curl of his mouth deepens with amusement, the intensity of his eyes flare with something else.

"What you doing in the waters so late merboy?"

"Same thing as you I guess siren."

"You got nowhere to be on this cold winter night?"

"Not a great fan of the cold when the water's so much warmer... besides it's not that late."

"I suppose it isn't."

"What's invited a girl like you into the pool?"

"And what's a girl like me?"

"Attractive. Fucking gorgeous even when you're dripping wet."

My brows rise, lips twitching.

His hands raise in surrender, smirk melting into a wide grin.

A softer laugh. It still sends something hot and electric darting across my skin.

"You are. You're in a pool after all."

"Touche."

Curiosity flickers in his stare, eyes appraising, examining.

"You're not a swimmer are you?"

Busted.

The sheepish grin on my face is betraying, his answering laugh is entertained.

"I don't have to be a swimmer to use the pool do I? I thought it'd be fine cos it's late and well—there's no-one else around to be bothered." Words trailing off.

There's a conspiratory look in his eyes, a mischievous gleaming edge that makes his grin seem a fraction more sharp.

"Well if you won't tell I won't tell."

"Is it off limits this time of night?"

"No rules that says it explicitly is...just—"

"Suggested not enforced?"

"Bingo. See... great minds think alike."

"So if I swim here—"

"Your secret's safe with me. I like the privacy, and I don't mind sharing the pool."

"You sure? I can vanish if you want."

"Don't be shy siren. The pool's big enough for both of us."

"Well if you're sure... if you're really sure—" I insist, body relaxing under the easy grin he offers me.

"It's relaxing to come here for a night swim. And you look like you need somewhere to relax."

"Somewhere to get away more like. I could do with less people at the moment."

I could do with less run-ins.

[......]

Something shifts in the quiet. Something that makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle, waters rippling even though I'm not moving. The surface disturbed even though I'm still.

Water sloshing as someone surfaces behind me.

My body goes still.

I hadn't been aware someone had been in the pool when I'd entered it, hadn't realised there'd been someone in the dark depths of it, endless and stretched out.

Feel the heat of a gaze train on my back. A loudness in their silence. An intensity in their quietness. In the way they're waiting for me to turn. An anticipation in the quiet beats of silence, a terseness there.

Something under my skin thrums, quickens and flares when I turn, eyes dragging upwards of a muscled torso, drags over skin that drips with water, streaks across a toned abdomen, across a broad chest and broader shoulders. Body thick with muscled definition. Eyes briefly distracted by the motion of the water, tracing it, before snapping to focus. Trailing upwards. A shadowed silhouette broad and imposing and filling the space right behind me, somehow his presence looming and large.

Water drips down the line of a thick neck, trickles down the side of an angled jaw and drip, drips off heavy dark curls.

Well fuck.

Sodden curls from behind which, dark curious eyes peer at me, shadowed and obscured, endless in their depths.

Intensity in their stare.

Entirely at ease in the waters, body disturbing the surface as he takes a single movement forward, wading forward a step.

"Got yourself lost siren?"

Oh.

Voice raspy and thick, its low timbre seems to make the water ripple, makes my skin burn hot a fraction, a shiver, that's nothing to do with cold, races down my spine.

Sweet talker too huh?

Lips quirking up at the words, even if something inside me straightens at the way his eyes trace across my face, a lack of recognition in them. The dark weight of his curls remain fallen in front of his eyes, hiding them from full sight. The scouring slowness of his gaze trawling with an unrushed curiosity. Something sharp and hot about his eyes. Something about their deep depths that feel his gaze makes my skin burn under their scrutiny.

"A siren huh? Shouldn't you be running the other way then? Sirens aren't exactly what people go looking for." Voice whispery soft in its hushed lowness. Lips curving up at the way the corner of his mouth upturns. A half quirked smirk, amused. Eyes flashing.

"Didn't you know men would willingly drown themselves to get closer to a siren?"

Another slow waded step forward.

Something in the air crackles. Sharp. Static. Dangerous.

"You don't look like someone who would drown so easy for just anyone."

"Yet here I am. In a pool I've swum in for years, yet I don't ever remember seeing you. I'd remember a face like that."

"Maybe you've got a bad memory. Goldfish?"

A raspy echo of a laugh. Rich and deep.

Indulgent and thick. Melted chocolate.

"Nah I'd prefer being a mermaid any day."

"Not a merboy?"

"If you want me to be." Words easy, the offer easier.

"If I don't want you to be?"

"I did say I'd make a great mermaid." The curl of his mouth deepens with amusement, the intensity of his eyes flare with something else.

"What you doing in the waters so late merboy?"

"Same thing as you I guess siren."

"You got nowhere to be on this cold winter night?"

"Not a great fan of the cold when the water's so much warmer... besides it's not that late."

"I suppose it isn't."

"I suppose it isn't."

"What's invited a girl like you into the pool?"

"And what's a girl like me?"

"Attractive. Gorgeous even when you're dripping wet."

My brows rise, lips twitching.

His hands raise in surrender, smirk melting into a wide grin.

A softer laugh. It still sends something hot and electric darting across my skin.

"You are. You're in a pool after all."

"Touche."

Curiosity flickers in his stare, eyes appraising, examining.

"You're not a swimmer are you?"

Busted.

The sheepish grin on my face is betraying, his answering laugh is entertained.

"I don't have to be a swimmer to use the pool do I? I thought it'd be fine cos it's late and well—there's no-one else around to be bothered." Words trailing off.

There's a conspiratory look in his eyes, a mischievous gleaming edge that makes his grin seem a fraction more sharp.

"Well if you won't tell I won't tell."

"Is it off limits this time of night?"

"No rules that says it explicitly is...just—"

"Suggested not enforced?"

"Bingo. See... great minds think alike."

"So if I swim here—"

"Your secret's safe with me. I like the privacy, and I don't mind sharing the pool."

"You sure? I can vanish if you want."

"Don't be shy siren. The pool's big enough for both of us."

"Well if you're sure... if you're really sure—" I insist, body relaxing under the easy grin he offers me.

"It's relaxing to come here for a night swim. And you look like you need somewhere to relax."

"Somewhere to get away more like. I could do with less people at the moment."

I could do with less run-ins.

"Then—" hands stretching out, water rippling under the gesture.

Briefly.

Briefly.

Very briefly the motion has my eyes snagging on the thickness of his arms, the large pan of his hands rippling through water.

Briefly.

Oh so briefly.

The look in his eyes sharpens ever so slightly.

Appraising.

"Swim away siren. A pool's a great place to let yourself be distracted. Get your mind off things."

Get my mind onto something else.

Something—

Wading backwards slowly the grin on his face is inviting.

"So whoever or whatever you came here to forget...don't let me stop you."

"Gonna swim away as quickly as you appeared merboy?"

His eyes flash.

Lips curl up.

"You want company?"

"Like you said... pool's big enough. Besides... you seem interesting enough merboy."

"Sounds like you want me to stay."

Something, something under my skin burns. A simmering heat, embers sparked.

"I wouldn't be opposed to it." I wouldn't be opposed to quite a few things, mind racing through prospects, thick arms, broad shoulders, toned torso, grinning sharp mouth, dripping dark curls.

The waters ripple around the two of us, lap and brush against my skin.

It's in warm depths that a coil of heat unfurls the watery distance between me and the curly-haired dripping stranger in front of me.

Merboy.

What an easy distraction you could be.

What a promising distraction you could become.

Maybe it's okay to tread the waters... and see where it can end up.

The voice inside my head, an amalgamation of multiple voices, luring and whispery murmur that maybe it's not a bad idea to start living for myself. To make decisions for myself.

To live for myself.

To indulge in what I want.

And currently...

Currently a new indulgence, the prospect of it, floats in front of me.

Just within reach.

[......]

In all fairness, all things weighed up and measured, the chances, the likelihood of running into the swimmer from the other day is miniscule.

It's small.

It's unlikely.

It's improbable.

It's so rare that it's almost safe to say, safe to guarantee that I won't cross paths with him again.

It's not impossible though.

And even though mentally I knew the chances of encountering mystery-merboy from the other night was minimal, something inside me lurches, overly pleased when I walk out to the swimming pool and the water ripples, a loud sloshing as a figure breaks through the surface.

Toned broad figure rising from the waters with a dripping grin, hands pushing curls from his face. Without curls shadowing his eyes, they stare at me with even more intensity, sharp and waiting, lips curled up with an echo of that thrumming pleased flutter that gives no little satisfaction that maybe... maybe merboy had been waiting for me too.

Eyes raking over the breadth of his shoulders, lingering on the curve of his mouth, trailing down to trace the streaks of water chase downwards and disappear under the surface.

"Fancy seeing you here again siren."

"Sticking to your charm then merboy?"

"Are you charmed?" voice soft, low. Wading forward purposefully. Moving closer to the edge of the pool where I hover. Arms propping himself up.

And they shouldn't bulge like that. Thick corded biceps, taut with muscle, thick enough to sink my te—

No.

Nope.

Nope, nope.

"Depends."

"On?"

"Whether you wanted me to be."

Fuck yeah I do.

He moves closer. Nearer.

Hand reaching out to curl around my ankle, giving it a brief tug.

"You can come closer siren. I don't bite..." the sharp grin, all teeth and tease promise otherwise though.

You could bite me anytime.

The band of his hand feels like a brand, slick skin curling to grip.

"At least... not unless I'm asked to. And even then—I don't get complaints." fingers trailing away as he grins deeper, the shape boxy, at odds with the sharp focus his eyes observe me with.

Breath wavering slightly as I lower myself into the waters, feel them brush against my skin to immediately crowd close. Feel the ripples as he wades back a step, giving me space, and yet even with the space it feels like he's close enough to press me against the pool's edge. Close enough that if he wanted to his arm could bracket me against the pool wall and his body could slot nearer, could pin me there.

Come nearer merboy, watch the way his eyes trace over the space. The way the pool seems infinitesimally smaller despite its endless black depths stretching out around us.

"Where've you gone sinking your teeth into merboy?" I tease, watch the flicker in his eyes, note the way his gaze sharpens. Trails over my skin with a heated scouring slowness as if in that moment he envisions exactly where he'd like to sink his teeth in. The thought shouldn't burn heat through my skin as viscerally and quickly as it does.

Tell me where you'd want to bite me.

The realisation that I'm far from opposed to it shouldn't sink in with a coil of winding heat, the way it does, simmering low in my gut.

A constant toying around a pull that's so tangible that when he does move closer a step, waters disturbed, it feels like he's infinitely nearer, senses taut with anticipation.

"Somewhere it can leave a reminder for a while. That I might not be there but the memory of how that mark got there stays..."

"And why—"

"Why?" voice prompting, laced with an edge of amusing, riling heat.

"Why'd you look at me like you're already thinking about what it'd be like to sink teeth into me?"

Don't be coy.

"Maybe I am."

"You don't even know my name yet."

"You mean siren, isn't it? Even if you're luring me into watery depths?"

The low rasped timbre of his voice seems close enough that I feel the reverberation of his voice soak into skin, feel my skin pebble. A hot flash sear across my skin.

As if he's unbothered by it. Thrilled by the anonymity of it, by the chase of wanting someone, being attracted to someone he didn't know the name of but still wanted anyways.

"You were the one waiting in the pool."

"Maybe I'd hoped to find you again." he admits easily.

The trickle of water tracing down his collarbone is distracting, a phantom heated want of what it'd feel like to chase the droplets off his skin, to chase with tongue and teeth, to press my mouth to the sharp line of his clavicle and just—

"Why?" the question hushed, breathy.

Waiting and expectant.

Aching for an echo of my own want. Needing him to need me in the same way that I could so readily and wholly need him.

A selfish, hungering want that has my body shifting in the waters, that has me moving closer. Bated breath as my fingertips reach out to trace across the ridge of a vein across his forearm, the tip of my nail tracing it up, feeling the way his body still.

Is it wrong to be selfish? Yeah.

Is it wrong to want? Probably.

Should I? Who knew?

Could I? Yes.

And it's in the way that he looks at me, with the same echo of want mirrored in his eyes, that welcomes my body to move nearer, for my hand to briefly curl against his bicep.

"Why not? You were a pleasant surprise the other night. One I wouldn't mind welcoming any night you decided to visit."

Without the haze of alcohol, without liquid courage, there's a different, clearer single-minded want that seems to ring through my head, seems to pulse to life under my skin the longer I look at him, the longer I realise he's so attractive and that maybe all I want is this. Nameless pleasure.

Without hurt and ache pushing to the forefront of my mind, without bitterness clouding my mind, without tendrils of fury still wound around me, it's a wonder how distinctly clear the offer sits between us. The prospect of indulging in the attraction that fizzes between us.

He's not Jimin. He's not someone you hate. He's not someone you had feelings for. He's not someone it hurts to be near.

He's attractive. He's attracted. The mutual desire sits clear, unspoken, between the two of us.

"And if... if I came here tonight. To see if you were here. If I came here to see...to test whether I found you attractive or whether it was just the novelty of it all—" I begin.

Words slow, drawn out.

His focus snags onto each syllable of them.

"What did you decide then?"

"You're still ridiculously attractive."

"Yeah?" a breathiness to the thick rasp of the syllable.

"Yeah."

"You're stunning siren. But there's no way you didn't already know that."

It's sparks racing across my skin, heat through my veins, desire pulsing through my mind, the full weight of his admission, of the low croon that I feel as if it presses into my skin makes the heat under my skin burn hotter.

There's something so unrestrained about the wild, crackling surge of fire in his eyes that makes my body feel alight, breaths charged and stuck in my throat as he moves closer. And closer.

Moves nearer until his hand's able to drag against my waist before curling into flesh. Body slotting nearer to mine, still teetering between the decision to fully press himself into me or to toy with the distance between us. Testing. Toying. Then tilting. Nearer, nearer.

"I thought that the first moment I saw you. I think it now. I don't know what brought you to my pool siren but thank fuck for it." a breathless, low laugh exhaled against my skin. Fingers tracing slick patterns into my side, languid and slow. Exploratory and unrushed. Dark heady gaze tracing over my face.

"I came here for a distraction. To unwind."

"Then let me offer to be all your thinking about."

"I'm not looking for romance. I'm not looking for a relationship. I want this to be easy. Uncomplicated."

"I can do that." words low and soft, hushed promise and offer.

"Try not to fall for me yeah? Shouldn't be too hard." Lips curling up.

Fuck relationships. Fuck romance. Fuck me merboy.

A soft laugh against the side of my jaw, the curl of a mouth tugged up in a tilted smirk against my skin.

"I'm sure I can manage that."

"I'm just looking for a bit of fun. Some stress-relief."

His fingers squeeze the side of my waist, thumb dragging against the curve slowly.

"I can definitely do that."

"Point is—can you back those words up merboy? Or is it all show?"

Eyes tracing languid across the breadth of his body, mentally mapping it, hands aching with the pure wanting need to touch.

"Why don't you show me what you like? Or what you want?"

"I don't know... I think there's something fun about having you find out yourself don't you?"

But even so my hand reaches to curl around his wrist, to drag the hand at my waist up, up, up. To guide the slow drag of his hand across my side, trace it up to curves, eyes fluttering with a ripple of pleasure when his fingers mould to me, when his thumb drags slow across skin-tight dripping material. Body taut with tension and need, senses narrowing to the slow dragging motion of the pad of his thumb dragging and tracing across the fabric, nipple stiffening under its ministrations.

Eyes fixed on my face as if he's committing to detail the micro shifts in my expression, back arching from the pool's edge at the slow, lazy unhurriedness of his thumb, of the way his fingers curl around me, hand moulding itself to my body, curve moulded to his touch.

"You sound like you've already thought of a next time."

"Maybe—maybe..." the soft quiet sound fluttering between us, minute and near-silent, a quiet keen of breath at the way his fingers skim up, lower to toy with the neckline of my swimsuit, fingers brushing against the line, tracing it down its dip.

"I'm willing to give a next time if you can earn it merboy."

"If it means I get to hear those pretty sounds then there's a lot on the line." well fuck.

They're inviting. Dark eyes beckoning me to let myself sink into their depths, let myself flounder in them. Let myself feel the pleasure that begins to stir under my skin.

Hook, line and sinker siren. Eyes sharp. Hungering.

It's slow, intentional, purposeful. The tracing lightness of his fingertips as if they're not eliciting crackling embers of heat as they graze across skin. As if their touch doesn't cause my body to shudder, water rippling at the movement, his body tilting closer. Nearer. Nearer.

For all the sweet words in that thick rasp and low rumbling timbre...for all that he's said, his actions speak a different thing entirely.

The curve of my back pushing forward, body pressing into his touch, a quiet sound he chases with a fervent need, eyes sharper, narrowed in onto me.

"And by the way siren--" lips against my jaw, the press of them hot. Breath hotter against skin.

"I'd be interested in hearing every sound you've got to give."

TAE POV:

"Fancy a swim Minnie?"

"I'm too comfy"

"You're a spoilsport...hanging around with Yoongi hyung's making you more and more like him."

"And what's that?"

"A heartbreaker." I sniff, turning my head away. Gaze pointedly fixed away from him, body turning to put my back to him.

"Oh Taeeeeeee~" voice slightly wheedly, entirely too teasy and a laugh laced into his tone. Amused as he hovers over me, finger prodding repeatedly at my cheek.

"Go away...won't swim with me." I sniff, keeping my head turned away, resolve firmed even as I feel his laugh against my back, feel the wheedled tone against my ear, fingers poking at my side.

"I was going to say we could go tomorrow? During the day? I don't know how you drag yourself out of bed, out of warmth to make the trek to the pools."

My head almost knocks into his, twisting quickly to peer at him.

"Tomorrow?"

He grins, all crinkly and smooshy and pink.

"Tomorrow."

Leg slinging over mine to keep me trapped and from wriggling around to face him.

"Now put on that show we were watching together."

[......]

Free.

The look on Jimin's face is free, unrestrained and finally...finally at ease. Laughter ringing out in the pool, splutters and splashes of water and racing each other from one end of the pool to the other.

Hair floating around his head, a golden halo, as we dunk under the water, eyes crinkled with laughter, air bubbles escaping. Futilely trying to hold our breath as long as we can, the shoves facing the resistance of the water, bodies propelling up to the surface, legs kicking.

He looks more content than he has for the past weeks, for the month or so he's been miserable and hurting and angry– fury directed inwards, critical and harsh towards himself, berating every small mistake... for the first time in near months he looks content.

The slope of his shoulders slumped, loose. The tension and weight that'd bore down on them slipping away, rolling off his body like water off skin.

Smile easier, looser, curled across his mouth. Hands pushing soaked hair back from his face, coughing as he surfaces, grinning at me.

"You must have more water than blood in your veins. How do you hold your breath for that long?"

"It helps with swimming times and endurance. Cos I don't need to surface as much as other swimmers might need to."

"I'm sure your whole swimming time is quicker than how long you hold your breath for."

Water drips off my face, races down my skin.

"I don't need to surface for breath as much, I can just power forward then."

"I dunno Tae... it seems to me like you've developed the technique through... experimenting." A mischievous teasing glint flickers in his eyes, a liltedness that's prodding and taunting.

I swim forward languidly, wading through the water slowly.

"Oh I've done enough experimenting to know what I like."

"And what's your recent experiment—"

I splash a surge of water towards his face, laugh as he splutters.

"Not had much recent experiences. Been busy swimming. Running. Training. Watching you guys train."

"No swimmer girl?"

"We practise and compete in separate categories, but I haven't found any during the swim meets."

"No hidden girlfriend?"

My stare turns pointed. My gaze lingers long enough his own eyes dart away, hand raking through his hair, gripping at strands tightly.

A controlled exhale. Still too sharp. Too staccato. Too uneven. Too measured.

Too raw.

Because she could've been. Jimin's mystery figure skater could've been his girlfriend.

And the words, heavy and drunk and exhausted, still linger in my mind even if they might be buried deep in his own.

Because at the end of it all the person driving his misery, the catalyst to it all, to his grief and pain and resentment was his Coach. Because at the end of it all he hurt the person he likes because of the twisted ideals Coach Choi put in his head.

And yet something about his expression now...without alcohol stripping it bare, without alcohol dragging that pain to the surface, it's almost confusing about whether he's happy or not. It's confusing to truly be sure. Because in this moment he's happy, in this moment he's content. At this moment those words and feelings he's forced down don't surface.

But a part of me realises it's because he's growing content, trying and learning to grow past his mistakes and pain.

And I'll take it.

I'll take him feeling and being free.

I'll take it. I'll take you being happier like this than miserable any day.

I'll take your growing happiness.

I'll also do anything to take away the root cause of it all away. I'll do anything to unearth it and remove it all.

---------------

"Kim Taehyung have you just finished practice?"

"Yeah hyung! Just gotten out of the swimming centre—I was going to head over to yours and then we can leave for the ice hockey match—"

"Did you leave practice without a coat on again?" words disproving, frowny even without needing to see his face to confirm it.

My hand grasps at the phone tighter, eyes darting around rapidly, guilty and caught out.

"...no...?"

"You don't sound too sure... wanna rethink the answer Taehyung-ah?" voice taking on that deceptive softness that just screams with a 'I already know so why don't you confess' undertone laced throughout the quiet.

A shiver wracks my spine, body shuddering with the oh-I-know tone filtering out from the speaker. For a moment I contemplate cutting the call, playing pretence, mentally changing plans to head over to my own dorm, shower, layer up and then head over to hyung's.

Nothing screams guilty and liar more than turning up to his flat without the coat he'd already forewarned me to take with me.

"It's going to be a cold day Tae... make sure you take that down-coat with you."

And the day was cold. Sharp.

And where was the coat? Left on the back of a chair where I'd intended to take it. Really!

"Go on Taehyung-ah."

Shit.

"I swear I was going to bring it hyung! I was just in such a rush that I forgot—"

Confessing takes precedence and spills from my lips, pulled from my mouth before I can consciously decide which route I want to take.

There's a deep exasperated sigh, resigned, and then a faintly...oh so faintly amused hint to his voice.

"Stop looking around so guiltily and turn around."

Spinning on my heels abruptly, eyes flaring wide with shock and then head ducking sheepishly when my eyes meet a pair of unimpressed ones, one hand holding the phone to his ear, the other holding a coat. Eyes still holding mine as he shakes his head slowly.

"Now come and put a coat on. Hurry up I'm freezing."

And I hurry towards him, thumbing the call to an end and rushing the distance to where hyung waits, half-tucked and shielded by the building's admin office, wind ruffling through his hair, snaking under his hood and trying to worm past the thick scarf and coat he's already got on.

Shoving the coat into my stomach, grumbling as his head ducks to nose into his scarf, watching with narrowed eyes as I quickly thread my arms through the coat, zipping it shut.

"How'd you know when I finished training?"

"And how'd you know I forgot my coat? I could've had it for all you know!" I add, hands shoving into the depths of my pockets, watching his brows rise. Watch the way his eyes narrow slightly as hyung steps forward. Hand unfurling from his side to yank the coat's hood over my hoodie, fingers brushing my hair under the hood, pushing curls away from my face.

"You'll get a head cold if you're out with damp hair." Chiding and scolding.

Displeased.

"I dried it hyung!"

"Not properly you didn't. Didn't your eomma ever tell you not to go out with wet hair? Gotta towel off properly."

"I did! It's practically dry."

He yanks the hood over tighter, harder, briefly obscuring the view of the pavement. But when my head darts up the tight press of his lips twitch, eyes flickering with silent mirth, lacing through the huffing.

"Besides... my eomma knew I found an eomma away from home when she met you the first time round. I think she's figured out I'm in safe hands."

Yoongi hyung mutters something intelligible, too low and quick to pick up on.

"That doesn't excuse not doing basic shit Taehyung-ah. Now hurry your ass up so you can shower and get warm before we head out."

"Yes eomma~" I lilt. Laughing as I sway into hyung's side, knocking into him.

"How was practice?"

"Good~ you know what hyung?"

"What?"

"Guess!"

"I don't know—"

"Come on guess guess!"

Hyung's eyes flicker to the side, darting me a glance, the tight-lipped press melts into a soft smile.

"Aren't you meant to tell me?"

"Hyung don't be a spoilsport—"

"Fine fine. Did training go really well? Did you manage to hold your breath underwater for longer? I don't know how that helps with swimming but hey if—"

"I've been practicing my speed for the upcoming competitions right?"

"Already the fastest out of all of us." The confirmation is soft, firm. Quiet and solid.

Eyes softening.

Pride bursts in the centre of my chest at the matter-of-factly tone he uses.

"I shaved off 1.86 seconds off my personal best today."

"That's great Taehyung-ah. That's amazing." Pride shines in his eyes.

And in the way that it always with hyung that pride comes with a strong silent warmth that sinks into his eyes, it's loud in the way his lips stretch wide and his gums peek past his scarf. The way his eyes crinkle slightly.

Something about his joy makes something warm, warmer than the coat, warmer than the prospect of a hot shower, warmer than I'd felt when my own Coach had praised me, when the other swimmers had—cheering on the victory and triumph as if their own...

Something about it being celebrated with pride and joy by hyung makes my smile stretch wider.

"Thanks hyung... I think—I think... I could have a shot at some of the bigger competitions this year." Voicing it aloud is entirely different to thinking it.

This time, it's hyung who nudges me back as we walk.

"I've a feeling that you'll do more than that Taehyungie. In fact—I know you're going to."

And the unwavering intensity in dark eyes, in the way his smile turns gummier, hand reaching to steer me by my elbow, fingers pinching lightly at my coat to still my steps as we reach a traffic light.

"In fact I'll be there watching you at the Olympics."

My smile stretches wider.

[......]

A glass clinks to mine, a face flushed with drink, eyes crinkled as Minnie sways into my side, voice loud in my ear. Hours into the celebratory dinner, he's definitely half-way to being wasted.

"Congrats Tete!" voice cheering.

The soda in my glass fizzes and sloshes, the beer in his teeters as his body tilts into mine.

"For what? This was your win today... yours and Namjoonie hyung."

"Beating your own PB is bigger than you're playing it off as. It's insane to cut even more seconds off what's already an Olympic qualifying speed." There's a slur to his words, as if the effort to form them becomes slightly jumbled.

But even half-wasted his eyes spark with giddiness, with joy for me.

"You and Yoongi hyung—it might not ever happen." but my lips stretch wide, face splitting with the grin that pulls at my lips.

"Or it could. And it will. And everyone loves a swimmer." Confident and assured, eyes crinkling and flushed cheeks bunching.

"Really? What about it?"

"Those muscles do you a lot of favour. Hiding these curls is an act of national preservation." Hand pat-pat-patting at my arm, squeezing with a nod of approval. Eyes flitting up to my hair. Tugging at a loose curl.

"Tell me more Jimin-ah." I simper, grinning as he gulps down a large mouthful of beer, eyes dilated and tipsy—teetering towards drunkenness.

"You're the future face of swimming. Gonna have all those muscles, and that face plastered over every ad and campaign—you're really pretty yknow." Eyes scouring me with an intensity, slowly trawling over the length of my face as if asserting it with his own eyes. Nodding quickly.

"You're really pretty too. Pretty pretty face hidden away under that helmet." Fingers brushing hair from his face, his body drooping and tilting into me, a smile tugs at his lips before it morphs into a heavy pout.

Unable to resist, I poke his pouting lips.

Laugh when he tries to bite, lips smooshed against my fingertip.

"Pretty sure having a pretty face makes it harder to prove m'self..." a tone of depreciation creeping into his voice.

There's a cognizance in his voice, an awareness there that bleeds into his words. As if being half-drunk loosens his tongue, loosens the tight hold he always has on his thoughts, on those buried-deep angers and frustrations.

"You're going to make Korea proud. Your parents proud. You make me proud to be your friend yknow..." he mumbles.

And something in my heart cracks at the way that pride is solely directed outwards and nothing for himself.

"Jimin-ah... this whole dinner's to celebrate your team. To celebrate yours and Joon hyung's wins and talent—we're here for you guys. Because you guys were amazing out there." My body shifts to angle towards his, watch lidded eyes blink heavily, posture drooped and swaying.

Watch as the smile fades from his lips, a frown settling there instead.

Watch as he drudges up a smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes, but he smiles.

Achy and sad and as if something's still missing.

As if something hollows his victory.

"At least Coach is happy... yknow he said it'd all work out in the end if I just...."

Words mumbled, incoherent, ears straining to catch them. My head ducks lower to hear him, brows furrowing.

"If you just what?"

"...followed what Coach said and..." a mumbled relief in his words, an unguarded rawness to his gaze. Eyes somehow sad for all they are wide with hints of elation. For all that he smiles, there's something quietly miserable there too.

"...ended it with her...said too many distractions and..."

Hot, corrosive anger bubbles in my veins, sears through the pleasant haze of giddiness and the faint tendrils of alcohol. Fury that gnaws at my flesh and bones, body stilling as Jimin's own tilts, letting his head fall to rest on my shoulder, voice cracking slightly as he swallows his misery and pain down. Voice muffled and despaired.

"...had to win didn't I? Otherwise...'s for nothing. Fucking it up was for— nothing."

And eating away at the happiness we'd floated on all evening, that high and buzz of adrenaline and pride, all of that's torn away.

Fierce, corrosive, sharp rage that makes my veins itch, crawl with the pure hatred that floods me at the realisation, at knowing whatever had gone wrong between Jimin and (Y/N)...whatever had gone so twistedly wrong... Jimin might've been the one to end it, to ruin things. But it was his fucking Coach to put that poison in his head in the first place.

When it came down to it... it was his Coach that twisted Jimin's insecurities and fear about not being enough and moulded them to his own selfish, greedy agenda.

It's quiet and hushed, voice cracking that I murmur a promise into Jimin's hair, arm wrapping around him.

"I'll make sure he pays for it Jimin-ah."

----------------

Under the water, everything's quieter. Everything's submerged in the rippling waves, everything's distant and far away from the blue of the water, body sinking down towards the tiled bottom, arms propelling myself through the pool, limbs loose and slow and unhurried.

Under the water, every breath slows, oxygen steady, measuring the time under the surface by how my heart echoes with each quiet thud. Hair floating around me, limbs slowly wading through water, the world above the pool, the surroundings of the pool all distorted and blurred into a haze of colours, distant and out of reach.

Under the water, everything's muffled, hazed, ceasing to exist the moment it sinks into the pool.

I'm under the water when the water itself ripples, surface disturbed, the sight of legs sinking into the pool, disturbing its stillness, coming to a standstill. Simply...floating.

The figure blurred by the waves of blue that ripple around the figure, the distant sound of water splashing, sloshing, moving to encircle around the newcomer.

I'm under the water until I'm not. Body swimming towards the figure, curiosity peaked, surfacing right behind them.

Everything above the surface blurs whilst it slowly comes to focus, comes to a sharp clarity, blinking water out my eyes, body rising from the pool's depths.

Everything sharper, clearer, louder. Hear the water slosh as it settles around me, ripples ebbing out further and further away, the pool's surface disturbed by the slow leisurely wading of the figure, watch as the figure stills. Watch as the surface comes to a stillness once more.

Eyes fixing onto the figure in front of me. Decidedly female.

Trace over the sodden strands of hair snaking down her back and across her shoulders. Trace the way the water makes her hair cling to her skin, trace the outline of the silhouette in front of me, watch as her body stiffens almost imperceptibly before it turns.

Above the surface everything's quicker, almost sped-up in contrast to the slowness of the depths underneath.

But somehow the figure turning moves almost as if in slow-motion, as if the water slows her movements, as if my eyes fixed intently on the figure in front of me is determined to map the minute movements.

And when she turns—fuck she's gorgeous.

"Got yourself lost siren?"

Siren she is.

Eyes tracing over the planes of her face, trace over intrigued eyes, to the line of her jaw, to the way a strand of hair curls and clings to her throat and shoulder. Watch as her mouth quirks, inviting in its amused lilted curl.

Watch as her body straightens, watch as the look in her eyes seems to glow with piqued interest, running down the length of my body before dragging back up slowly. A pulse of something hot and electric and mutually attracted to the sight in front of our eyes.

"A siren huh? Shouldn't you be running the other way then? Sirens aren't exactly what people go looking for."

And there's something in the amusement, in the teasing, in the mirth that glitters in her eyes, that curls her mouth in an inviting, sensual curve, that makes her expression gleam as she returns my gaze. As she tilts her head at me, eyes snagging on the way water clings to her skin, to the swimsuit—more painted onto her skin, a stirring winding heat that begins to suffuse into my veins.

A siren. Well and truly a siren.

Because something brews in the air between us, something charged and heavy and anticipating, bodies and words slowly circling, appraising and attracted, in this close orbit of each other, treading water, words pulling me in nearer and she seems to welcome the closeness. Beckoning dark eyes a siren's pull that tugs me closer, toying with the pull of visceral desire so tangible I can almost see its spool unfurl between the proximity of our bodies.

Words that seem to be a sweet lure, body fighting the urge to move closer, tracing the way water streaks off her skin, pearls at her throat, drips off her hair. Something about her, shadowed and half of her form ripples beneath the water's surface, that makes that undeniable pull try to tug me closer, nearer. Eyes tracing over her, unable to tear my gaze away.

I don't believe in love at first sight but damn the sight of her yanks the water from under my body.

"Didn't you know men would willingly drown themselves to get closer to a siren?"

Everything about her crackles with a charged dangerous pull. Everything about her screams of a mix of amusement and tease and riling playful fire. I'm in water, floating, but something in the air burns with the curious, appreciative glint in her eyes as her eyes rove over me.

Thin strips of light from overhead dance across her skin, her silhouette obscured and half-hidden by the dark depths of the water. Everything about her is unknown, mysterious, everything about her screams with a beckoning come closer and find out.

It's been a while, a long while, since I've felt curiosity and attraction bubble in my veins like this. Like a liquid heat begins to course through them, like the attraction fizzes through my blood, makes my heart thud and quicken, sped up in a way that swimming hadn't done to it.

Merboy.

She reciprocates it, plays into the siren label, body wading forward, so close that all it'd take is for her hand to rise from the water to reach out to touch me, to be able to reach out to trace the tips of her fingers across skin.

I want her to. Fuck, I want her to.

"Attractive. Fucking gorgeous even when you're dripping wet."

Truth pulled from my willing mouth.

Because she deserves to know it. She should know it. Surely she knows it. There's no way she doesn't know she's stunning. That the sight of her stops a man in his tracks. Water.

And she's not a swimmer.

I'd know if she was.

But she's not a swimmer.

I'd have seen her before at the swimming centre if she was.

And she wades through the water, something decidedly about her stilling figure that's not a swimmer's form. Athletic. Curved. Inviting.

But she's not a swimmer.

And the flicker of guilt flashes briefly before it melts into a wry grin, makes her mouth curve, eyes lingering on her lips, unbidden—my eyes track lower, tracing the droplets of water and the way it gleams on her skin. Silvery streaks that make her seem to glow.

Siren.

The word repeats itself over and over through my head, hushed, whispered, breathless.

She's not a swimmer.

And mystery girl becomes all the more elusive.

"You can stay." I'd like you to stay. I want you to stay. I want to know you a bit more siren.

As if leaving the pool would make her melt away, a figure of water and shadows, as if she's been conjured from mind.

But when she does leave I don't her name, I only know her face. I don't know her name, I only know a siren. I don't know if I'll see her again, but I know I want to.

Whatever's been tiptoed around hovers in the air, lingers there, after she goes. After she leaves.

Lingers, hanging over the pool, over me, like a heavy thick weight of anticipation and want that neither of us openly admit but it clings to my body like a second skin, makes my skin feel hot for all that the water's warm, light against my limbs.

Eyes tracking the steps she takes as she wades up and out of the pool. Trace the way the water streaks off her skin, watch the way her head turns at the last moment.

Something both sharp and riling, taunting and soft in the tilt of her lips, a hint of something promising, something anticipatory, something expectant.

As if this isn't the last time I see her. As if this isn't the last time she wants to see me either.

That glance is in wait of a next time.

And just like that siren becomes a secret that melts from sight right in front of me.

-------------------

Siren doesn't have a name.

But I recognise her figure as it appears into view, slow, purposeful steps as she enters. Tracking her steps as she moves towards the pool. Wading forward to near her.

Eyes dragging up over curves, lingering over her legs, her thighs, the dip of her waist and the flare of her chest. The line of her throat and the angle of her jaw. The curve of her mouth and the glittering temptation in her eyes.

And those eyes—inviting at the same time they're sharp, appraising. As if she's taking the time to dissect her decisions, her attraction, her want before she admits it, before she lays it bare.

Eyes lowered down to hold mine, steps coming to still right in front of me.

This close I can see the definition of muscles under the curves, can see the strength corded with the soft, can trace the line of her leg up to her hip, to meet her eyes and find an amusement already lingering in her stare as she tilts her head down to peer at me.

There's an unspoken sort of elegance in the way she holds herself, in the way the line of her silhouette is strong and commanding, insistently

"Sticking with your charm then merboy?"

"Are you charmed?"

Moving towards the edge of the pool, propping myself up on my arms, eyes raking over her. Lips curving up at the way she looks at me, something wanting flashing through her eyes.

"Depends."

"On?"

"Whether you wanted me to be." Yes.

It's undeniable. That visceral pull towards her that guides my hand forward, fingers curling around her ankle, thumb dragging over skin, lightly tugging.

"You can come closer siren, I don't bite." Unless you want me to. Because I'd love to.

It's desire. Plain and simple. Unavoidable. Thick in the air between us that pulls my words from my lips, that has my fingers brushing over skin and drinking in the minute expressions, the way her eyes turn lidded, gaze tilted down to me.

"At least... not until I'm asked to. And even then—I don't get complaints."

I won't let you complain siren~ just say the word.

Something coils in my chest, an electric thrum of anticipation as she lets herself sink down onto the edge of the pool, body shifting back to welcome hers into the water. One leg dipping into the water and then the next, water clinging to her skin in eager welcome. Pulling her body down as she sinks into the waters, body near enough I feel a wave of her warmth seep into the water, the gently sloshing waters seeming to push and pull at my skin. Oh so close.

"Where've you gone sinking your teeth into merboy?"

Oh wherever you'd like.

The curiosity and want in her tone a soft murmur that seems to graze against my skin.

Looking at me as if she wouldn't mind where my mouth would trace over her. As if she wants me to. As if in this instant she's already imagining where my mouth would trace.

And I want to trace it over every line and curve of you.

But neither of us shift closer, neither of us broach the gap, neither of us dare make the first move until whatever brews in the air is cleared. Clarified.

No strings.

No attachments.

No commitments.

Nothing but fun.

Fun.

I can do fun.

I'd love to have some fun.

Siren doesn't have a name. She doesn't divulge it.

As if part of her craves the nameless anonymity of it all—no strings attached, not by feelings, not by name, not by anything personal. And another part of her seems thrilled by the prospect, eyes glittering with excitement and attraction, words soft and lilted—honeyed sweet lure to my ears, body surfacing out the water, moving to lean against the edge.

Fun.

I could make this fun for you too merboy, I could make it as fun for you as you could make it for me. We could have fun. The offer's there, in the near-minute movement of her body tilting closer, of her hand reaching out to initiate the touch, senses narrowing to the drag of her hand across my arm, hand curling around my bicep.

Fuck yes.

Moving forward a step. And then another.

And then a third. Where it's almost impossible to not be pressed to her skin, into her skin. Almost impossible to not touch, to close the gap and finally give in to the ache in my hands to curl sink into her curves, to yank her forward.

Mouth against her jaw, the briefest taste of what a shudder could be, teeth scraping against skin.

Hand drawing mine up to touch her, inviting the exploration, guiding it, eyes molten as she peers at me, hooded eyes tracking the way my fingers trace over her wet swimsuit, trace over the fabric moulded to her curves, a second skin that my touch maps over.

"I want to hear every sound you've got to give." I admit, the hushed desire hovers between our lips, fingers curled against her, thumbing at the stiff peak, mouth aching to press to hers and swallow the wanton sound her throat makes, wanting nothing more than to swallow it down.

But she makes the decision for the two of us.

Hands snaking their way up to curl against my nape, tangling together, fingers threading through my hair.

And then she tangles her grip into wet curls, dark glittering eyes meeting mine before she yanks me closer, mouth crushing to mine and eyes fluttering shut.

Make the sounds, taste them too.

And my body moves closer, water sloshing around the two of us as I wade forward to press her back against the pool's edge, hand dragging up to angle her jaw up, fingers gripping, mouth slick and parting against hers. Groaning into her.

Take too siren.

Take damned sound and breath.

And her mouth seems to curl against my lips in recognition of it.

---------------------

Her touch is maddening.

Hand tangled into my curls, the other hand dragging over my shoulder, down my arm, nails raking and leaving trails of heat, mapping my front under her touch, mouth swollen as it breaks from mine only to drag her lips across my jaw, heady and hot, lips pressing an open-mouthed trail down my throat, teeth scraping.

In return, my body presses into hers, lines against curves, leg slotted between her thighs, hands dragging down to grip her hips, breath stuttering against the crook of my neck, a stinging pinch of teeth at skin when my thigh rocks up between her, hands gripping tighter, eyes drinking in the way her lashes flutter, the way her teeth sink into her bottom lip.

Hand dragging from the curve of her hip to the crease of her thigh, fingers curling into flesh, tugging her leg open wider, fingers tracing over the soft curve, tracing up to brush over the hem of the swimsuit, feel her hips buck forward, eyes dilated with sharp burning want, exhale sharp.

"Into playing games are you merboy?"

"Depends. Whether I have the patience for them."

"I don't. I need—fuck I need you to touch me."

"I am touching you."

"Smartass, aren't you?"

"Oh, I haven't even had the pleasure of getting to see yours—"

Her laugh is wavery, teeth sinking into skin, a rebuking, taunting ghost of a bite, pleasure pulsing through my veins. Her laughter vanishes, swallowed into a sharp bob of her throat, into a thin inhale, hips rocking forward to ground against hers.

"At this rate you're not going to get to see anything—"

"Didn't know you wanted to be a complete mystery siren."

"A little bit of secrecy never harmed anyone."

"Secret of the night huh? Appeared in my pool, going to vanish just like that?"

Her touch deliberates. Her voice is drawn out, contemplating with a teasing lilt, enjoying playing with the fraying tethers of control that neither of us have a strong enough grasp on.

"I'm not quite done with your merboy."

"What else do you want to do~?"

"You."

My hands drag down, palms against water-slick skin to grip the back of her thighs, body weightless, suspended and then hoisted up. Water streaking off her body in rivulets, hands gripping her, her own laced loose around my shoulders, nails tracing a pattern down my skin.

"Wanna get out of here?" lips against her jaw.

Her hands tighten in response.

"Fuck yes."

"Cos I don't fancy the taste of chlorine on my lips."

"What would you prefer merboy?"

"I'd rather taste you on my tongue."

Her touch seems to reflexively tighten, nails against my skin, breath sharp as she exhales.

Eyes pooled with want as they meet mine, lips hovering over my own, fingers reaching to crook my jaw up, to angle my mouth a hairsbreadth from hers. Breath ghosting skin.

Legs tightening around my waist.

Fingers gripping tighter at her thighs.

"Well it depends doesn't it?"

The tip of her thumb brushing across my bottom lip.

Eyes searching, scouring.

"Are you all talk and no show merboy?"

The water drips off our bodies, setting her down on the edge of the pool, hands sprawled across her thighs, body tilting in towards her. Letting her hand manoeuvre my mouth to hers but I don't give in to the want, the urge to chase the taste of her lips and tongue.

Not yet.

Arms pushing myself up out the water to drag myself out the water, her body backtracking a few steps, her eyes flickering with something indecipherable. Dragging up my whole length. Head to toe, eyes raking over me with something akin to heated approval.

It brings more than just little satisfaction. That she finds me attractive. That siren, all the more so out of the waters, dripping water down her legs, small puddles where we stand.

Bated breath, time suspended in wait, that tangible crackling temptation that silently pulls my body forward a step and then another. Bodies near slotted to each other.

Fingers tracing down my torso to hover over the waistband of my swimming shorts. Feel her fingers ghost lower, testing.

Looping her fingers through the ties of the shorts to give a brief tug.

To pull me the last slither of distance between us.

"Why don't you put it to the test?"

And when she backtracks a step, my body follows.

Her siren call inescapable.

(AND WEIOGHWEOIGHEWGHOEWIGHEWIOG SCENE SCENE OWEOIGHEWIOGW AHHHHHHHHHH AND PART TWO OF THE MESS OF THE WEGHIOEWGEWIG BEGINS... OHMYGOD HOW WE'VE WAITED @Midiiplier FOR THIS AND YOU DON'T GET TO WGOIWBGWEOIBW AHHHHHHHHH SO EXCITED! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF OUR MYSTERY SWIMMER~)

Midiiplier you couldn't get in swipe range of me and figure out this was done already~ 🤭😌

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3