HOBI POV:

The sound of the door opening has my head lifting from the sofa, fingers pausing in their slow trail over the photos Tae had taken of    (Y/N).

Eyes tearing away from the sight of a face hidden by a camera, small glimpses of her features, hiding away the full sight of her. I couldn't help but wonder... had there been a reason she was so hesitant to let herself be photographed?

Was it to prevent her from being found out?

Was it because it had been sketches that had gotten the truth out in the first place?

Jiminie's face is tearstained when it peeks round the doorway but despite the puffiness to his eyes there's a tired, sort of relieved smile on his lips as he steps in.

"Is everything okay Min-ah?" I ask, straightening up, fingers still curled around the photo.

From the floor, Tae turns, the glossy sheath of photos he'd taken with (Y/N) sprawled out in front of him, face deep in thought, eyes flickering to face Jiminie. Frowning when he spots dried tear tracks.

"Okay... I... I saw (Y/N) today. At the park." He says softly, voice a low hushed whisper.

In his arms Tannie wriggles, yapping happily at the mention of her name, wriggling until Jiminie hyung bends down to let him go and he scampers over to Tae, pawing at his crossed legs and pushing himself up onto his hind legs.

My eyes flutter, filled with the mental image of the pain and hurt and agony that had been gouged deep into her features, remembered seeing those raw feelings fade as she crumpled, working herself into a panic attack as she spoke; so assured that we hated her.

It makes a lump in my throat grow.

"How was she?" I ask, voice low and wavery.

"Terrified. And so, so worn down. She... she moved away from me. She moved to get away from me." he admits, voice hoarse even as he takes Tae's outstretched hand and sinks down to his knees, fingers carding distractedly through Tannie's fur.

The tightness in my throat grows.

Had we made her feel terrified? As if she wasn't safe around us?

"Did she? Did she leave?" I ask.

Hurt coats my tongue, drips from it. 

"She stayed. For the smallest amount she stayed...she stayed." Jiminie whispers, eyes flickering with relief and shining hope.

"And..." Tae presses, urgency in his voice.

"And she doesn't want to meet us yet... she can't bring herself to. She thinks we're stumbling into this still blind, she thinks that we're still clueless and not realising... not understanding the gravity of it all." He adds, dejected and hurt.

"Why?" I ask.

Their heads turn to me.

My fingers tighten around the picture and I push up off the couch.

"Why? Why is she always pushing herself away? Why is it so hard to accept that we love her and want her... why is it so hard? Why is this all so hard?" I ask, voice turning bitter, photo fluttering out of my hand as I let go, watching the image of a hidden girl fall away.

Why was it so hard to let us in?

Why was it so hard to believe that she was more than worthy of being loved?

"Hobi hyung... she's been alive for... centuries. We don't know what sort of people she's met, what sort of people have caused her to be so guarded... we can't expect to know. It's been days since we've found out...it's been lifetimes for her." Tae hyung hedges carefully.

And when his eyes settle on the historical photos, he examines them in a new light.

Looks at them not as their date, as their time with each other.

He looks at them and tries to see the (Y/N) from the glamour of the Roaring 20s, the Regency Era and the 1800s. I knew the dates because I knew the stories, brimming from excited lips and told with shining proud eyes.

He looks at her in the photos, seeing her beside him and yet tries to find her, tries to see the real her hidden in them...and yet maybe she never had been. Maybe she'd been utterly bare and honest and truly herself, unhidden, in that instant.

"We have to remember for us it's been days to learn about this. For her it's been centuries of hiding and all of it falling apart for her in a few days." Yoongi hyung's voice adds, soft and light and gentle. Standing in the doorway before he approaches, thumbing at tears that have silently slipped free from my eyes, catching them and his hand leaning down to take the photo, gaze thoughtful and contemplative, exhaustion tugging at the corner of his eyes.

He hasn't been sleeping well. And dark shadows and the increased cups of coffee attest to that. The tips of his fingers are stained, smudged with lead. He's been writing music.

He hasn't written music in quite some time.

Hyung hasn't slept even when he's curled beside one of us, his eyes still open or body stirring to awareness with the slightest of movements.

"So she pushes us away? Tells us we don't understand? How can we understand if she won't let us close?" If we can't be there to try and understand." I ask.

My head swims with the influx of overlapping thoughts and emotions, spiralling off into different tangents. I lean into Yoongi hyung's touch, fingers looping around his wrist to anchor him to me.

"Hyung I don't understand how to understand." I whisper.

Confessing that I didn't know where to begin. Didn't know where to start with filtering through everything.

Sirens had always been just stories.

And yet (Y/N) was one. She was a living siren who'd been alive for centuries.

But how? And was it only my mind buzzing and thrumming with confusion and endless questions? And if so did it make me bad for not being able to settle on what we had been told?

When I knew how hard it had been for her to confess and share that truth in the first place.

When I saw how much it tore her apart.

And when I saw how much she'd shaken, how much she'd curved away... I knew her hurts and pains ran beyond the human span. She'd had to live with the trauma and had been unable to escape from it.

But I couldn't help but wish and yearn that for her sake she'd open up. To any of us if she didn't want all of us to know.

And like a ghost I had haunted our own studio, spending days on end leaning against the walls, pacing the same floors she'd danced over and over and wondering how everything had turned fragile and brittle in an instant.

A part of me wished we'd never seen the sketch. That no-one had noticed. A part of me wished that we hadn't recognised her in the picture, that if we'd been blissfully ignorant at least she wouldn't be hurting, she wouldn't left feeling raw, exposed and vulnerable.

A part of me wished those tickets had slipped through my fingers.

A part of me wished I could rewind time. And go back to when we were oblivious and she was happier with us not knowing.

But a greater part of me knew that when we hadn't known, there had been this constant conscious awareness on her behalf, this constant feeling of being repressed and worried about her truth coming out.

She'd been stifled this entire time.

And now that we knew she was suffocating under that knowledge too.

I tug at the strands of my hair, frustration and hurt as my fingers curl and yank, the bite of pain that tries to make me think of that, to focus on it.

But all it makes me think is that the agony and suffering (Y/N) had been through was unmeasurable, was unable to be put into comparison to a normal lifespan.

Because she'd suffered for lifetimes worth. She'd hurt for centuries.

It made me wonder whether we'd ever be able to make her feel safe, ever feel utter and complete trust in us. It made me wonder whether we'd be able to bridge centuries and find our way to each other.

I hope we could.

KOOK POV:

"Kookie love... baby open the door." Joon hyung implores softly.

I wrench my eyes away from the photo in front of us, the picture Tae hyung had taken of her face hidden by the camera, a field of flowers that surrounded her.

My eyes feel heavy, feel sore and weary and I rub blearily at them as I drag myself off the chair, away from the desk, moving towards the sound of Joon hyung's low worried call.

The lock clicks open and it's being swung open, a concerned scan of my body before arms engulf me and tug me close, folding me against him. A shaky sigh exhaled against my skin and lips pressing softly, tenderly as they linger at my temple.

"What's wrong hyung?" I mumble, face pressed against his shoulder. Voice sounding tired and distant and hoarse to my own ears.

"You haven't stepped out today. You never came for breakfast, you never came for lunch either." He mumbles sadly.

I blink.

"Has it been that long? I wasn't asleep I should've heard you calling..." I say quietly.

His hands tighten, hand curling around my nape, the other banding across my back and wrapping me close.

"We called. Jiminie and Tae came to get you. But you haven't replied... never came to the door. Hyungs were worried baby boy." He says quietly.

"I've just been thinking... I didn't mean to lose track of time." I answer, hands curling around his neck, anchoring myself close to him, feeling a lump in my throat grow at the tender touch of his lips pressing to my cheek, chaste light touches as he turns my face towards his.

"About? Let us in to those thoughts sometimes Koo...it's not bad to." He murmurs.

I shrug, body twisting in his hold to gesture at the photo lying on my desk.

"Wondering how many years she's had to push herself away. Wondering if she feels like she needs to push herself away still." I say softly.

Hyung's arms tighten.

"It's a defence tactic. To protect yourself. And it's one that's been instilled in her, one she can't quite break out of. Jiminie told me that she couldn't bring herself to come with him, not to the house, not to somewhere where they could talk more."

And his words make my heart shatter a bit more.

Had we stopped being someone safe for her? Had the truth meant she was afraid of us being afraid?

"I don't blame her." I say.

And as the words spill past my lips I realise how true they are.

I don't blame her.

Not in the slightest.

I couldn't even bring myself to assign even the tiniest amount of blame to her.

I couldn't blame her for shielding herself.

For protecting herself.

For wanting to be safe.

And for wanting to be normal.

We'd been together months. And known her longer. And whilst these months had taught me just how much she fit perfectly, just how much I wanted her, how much I loved her. 

But months put against centuries of experience and hurt and pain from the wrong people couldn't be wiped away.

She needed to rebuild her trust, needed to know we had no intention of running or hiding or shying away from her because of the life she was handed, because of the choice that was made for her when she was turned into a siren.

"You don't?" Joon hyung asks, voice void of any judgement. He sounds thoughtful. Wondering what brings me to that.

I shake my head.

"Apart from her... her being a siren, I don't think anything was false. I think she's been genuine and honest and open. And her being a siren doesn't change that I love her. It just makes me hurt for her, that she's had centuries to suffer, centuries to be alone." I murmur.

"I feel stupid. Because despite everything I've read on sirens, read about psychological trauma... everything I've learnt is worthless. Because I don't know how to help her and yet I can't keep seeing her in pain, I don't want to see the same pain in her eyes that I saw the other day. I don't want her to be afraid." He says plaintively, voice aching and wobbly and when I tilt my head to him it's to see him blinking back the glossy sheen to his warm brown eyes, face crumpling with distress.

And when I reach to cup his cheeks, he leans into the touch, forehead resting against mine and tugging me back, chasing physical comfort, holding me as he burrows himself close; bigger, broader frame tucked against my own.

"I've spent days thinking hyung. Days thinking how we can undo every slight, every mistake we might've made... but I've realised something." I say quietly.

His head turns to mine, wet lashes brushing against my skin. Silently waiting for me to finish.

Eyes imploring and lost and uncertain.

"We can't make up for time past. Neither us and neither can (Y/N). We can only try to make the time we have better than time gone." 

His hands curl tighter, a soft, shaky kiss pressed to my jaw.

"I hope so. I hope (Y/N) can give us a chance to share the time we have. I hope she can realise that with time, she deserves to live and love. And to be loved too." 

And the two of us stand, basking in that hope, in that realisation until I slowly unfurl, padding back to reach for the photograph, bending to rummage for the folder to slip it back into.

It's as I'm sliding it in that my fingers come across another photograph.

Similar and yet entirely different.

My eyes catch onto the sight of a silhouette standing at the shore, of a figure looking out to sea, her curved frame oddly vulnerable and fragile despite the posture being certain and assured.

And this time I still.

I hadn't stilled at the time of taking the photograph. It hadn't tugged at my eyes and forced them to still on it before. But holding the other photo in my hand, the front profile with her face hidden away, it makes me focus on the second photo more closely. Peering at the slightly turned face.

Now because I know the person, know every line and curve of their body, know and would recognise them instantly, and focusing on the photo now tugs at my heart for new and different reasons entirely.

Wondering just exactly what had been flitting through (Y/N)'s mind as she peered out to the waters, wondering just how heavy the burden must've felt; anchoring her to the sight of the very thing that contained her.

It was a photo I'd taken at the beach in Busan. Before we'd headed back.

It was a photo taken before I'd even ever known her.

And yet this entire time... she'd been right there.

In front of my eyes.

She'd been there, waiting.

"I need to go talk to (Y/N)."

(Y/N) POV:

I don't expect the body to sidle into the pool beside me, waters sloshing as his body disturbs the unmoving blue, sinking down next to me. I don't expect my name whispered achingly soft and tender and for a hand to reach out to encircle my wrist; gently tugging me to turn my face to look at him.

My eyes drift over long, messy hair, wide soft doe eyes and lips that curve up, a sad lilt to them. Drinking in the sight of him as if starved of it, desperately taking in every feature even as I nudge myself back.

But his hand tightens around my wrist and tugs me back, pushing himself closer, water sloshing around his lower abdomen, torso glistening with water as he moves back to close the distance I tried to put between us.

"Don't run. Don't hide. I finally found you." he implores, voice soft.

"Found me?" I ask quietly.

His hand moves from the water, damp and trails of water stream down his forearm as he tilts my chin up.

"You're a hard person to reach when you don't want to be found. I was almost about to give up if I hadn't found you here. The arcades, even the hidden ones, the gym, the studio, the book cafes, Magic Shop... you were nowhere." He says miserably.

My heart twists at his words.

He hadn't been choosing to put as much distance and space as he could have between us, he wasn't taking the opportunity to cut his losses, tie up loose strings and move away as they all should be.

But he'd been looking for me.

"Why? Why look for me when you can hide from me?" I ask.

His fingers tighten unconsciously before loosening, a frown marring his face as he peers at me.

Eyes burning with sincerity.

"The last thing I want to do is hide from you. All I want is to be close. All I want is you." he says.

It's something new.

Unheard of.

Any person who'd ever found out the truth, save for him, had shrunk away, had flinched from me, confirming all those poisonous thoughts I harboured inside.

They'd had fear and disgust in their eyes as they'd looked at me.

Jungkook has neither of those emotions in his warm eyes.

"Why aren't you afraid? Why aren't you disgusted?" I whisper. Terrified that with everything that had happened, had unfolded that I wouldn't be able to control my pheromones, from that enhanced allure from spiking and causing anyone close to be tugged to it.

It was why I was in the corner of the pool, body dipped under the deep waters and alone with Jungkook's body hovering close to my own.

"Maybe because I don't know enough about sirens. But I know enough about you. Because I fell in love with (Y/N) and I love her more than she fears her secret." He murmurs quietly.

"Maybe you shouldn't say that then. Not when you don't truly know what you're getting yourself into." I say, the waters disturbed as I tug my hand free, the water's warmth threatening to turn cold, to cling to my skin just how the Ocean did.

"Or maybe you shouldn't assume that I'm heading in blind. I love you first (Y/N). And that means I love you no matter how many hurts you have or much your past hurts. I want to be in your present and I want you in our future." He insists. Crowding closer until I feel my back press against the edge of the pool, watching as he moves to stand opposite me, hands curling on the edge on either side; caging me in between him and the side, the water cocooning us both.

I don't want to believe and hope. Don't want to indulge the way my heart twists with want and longing. Don't want to give in and have him move away and leave later.

"And if you see how ugly it is to be a siren? If you see how twisted it is? Will you run?" I ask.

He shakes his head, eyes fixed on me, wet hands curling around my cheeks, damp skin pressing to mine, moving closer, dipping his head.

"Love isn't about picking and choosing the good and leaving at the bad. I love you and I'll love you even with every scar time has left you with." He says, voice earnest and gentle and so, so full of promise.

Maybe it's because he's been one of the first to easily give me comfort. Maybe it's because things with him have always come so easily, so naturally. Maybe because he's always so easily tugged out reactions, has always slid behind defences and made it feel so comforting to be around him.

Maybe it's just because it's him.

Because he's Jungkook.

Because I love him just as much.

But my hands rise, trembling slightly before sliding against warm skin, curling up to rest on his shoulders, eyes meeting his; nerves and fear and apprehension in my eyes and love and enticing calm in his.

And his hands curl around my wrists, holding my hands on him, to him.

"I don't know history's treated you. I don't know how others have been with you. But take a leap of faith. Trust me, trust us." he implores.

My eyes sting.

"And if I leap and then fall?" I ask.

"Not going to happen. We're your safety net. But if you still fall, know I'm right there with you." he promises.

My breath hitches, swallowing the sob and leaning forward, pressing my lips to his cheek. One cheek and then the other.

Eyes fluttering shut when his head turns to brush his lips against mine in a chaste kiss. Soft and light and gentle. Pleading and imploring but also so, so full of love and familiarity... begging me to trust but also cradling me close at the same time. Showing me with the light touch that he can and will take care of me.

"And the siren bit?" I ask, leaning away.

His doe eyes blink at me.

He gives a small shrug.

"I've never been tugged to myths. I'd rather hear your story from you alone." He says easily.

"When you're ready, in your own time, know that I'm all ears baby—" and then he pauses and catches himself.

Bewilderment and confusion flickering across his face.

Blinking in a way that has me tilting my head, a small smile tugging at my lips.

"I... is... do... does this mean you're older than Jin hyung? And that makes you... noona?" he asks tentatively.

The question is so sudden and surprising it draws a bubble of laughter out my throat; a sound that makes his face scrunch with delight, toothy and eyes creased and a sound I realise that I myself had missed hearing.

I shake my head.

"Not noona." I insist.

But his look of disbelief and confusion tugs out another stream of giggles, muffled when I lean forward, relaxing at the way his arms naturally fall to my waist and keeps me steady against him.

Maybe things will be okay.

Maybe what I need to do is stop expecting them to run.

Maybe I was the one who was trapped under my past, burdened by it more than they were.

I needed to start looking at my present without everything that had transpired in the lifetimes I'd been alive. Because I'd finally found and had begun to live my first and last lifetime.

Lips graze the shell of my ear, a warm teasing whisper as Kookie speaks.

"But you've got to admit... the look on Jin hyung's face will be worth it."

-------

"Kookie we don't need to do this." I whisper, staring up and out at the house, feeling the swarm of butterflies in my stomach, body tense with nervous anticipation.

A hand reaches to squeeze mine over the seats.

"Trust me when I say nothing has been right without you. And trust me when I say the others have missed you so, so much." He murmurs.

Hand squeezing back just as fiercely when I grip at him.

"No-one's angry?" I ask.

He shuffles in his seat, leaning over to tilt my face towards him.

"Not at you. We're angry at ourselves... for ever making you feel you couldn't come to us." he admits.

My heart sinks as I shake my head, drawing his hand close.

"It was never you. It's just not... normal." I say easily.

He frowns, a pinch between his brows.

"The circumstances aren't common but despite it all, despite how much older you are... I'm glad it brought us to you." he says, smiling and hand curling around my nape when I close the distance, lips pressed fiercely and tightly against his in a silent press of thanks, for showing me I mean just as much as they do.

His lips are warm and gentle, the flickering hunger in the bruising press of his mouth lessening as he presses a smatter of soft pecks, tongue flicking at my seam before leaning away, thumb rubbing across the high of my cheek.

"Sorry it took us centuries to get to you." he whispers, words triggering another crashing wave of emotion to slam into me, heart clenching fiercely, thudding away loudly and breath trapped in lungs that constrict.

"Sorry it took me centuries to find you. But thank you for being the reason for me truly living." I reply.

And his hand remains laced with mine when I step round, tugging me close against his side as we move to the door.

And when I hang back, he waits. Waiting and hand holding mine until I give his fingers a squeeze.

"Ready?"

I take in a deep breath, wondering how they'd look at me now.

Whether they'd still see me or they'd see the label first.

"As I'll ever be." And when I step through the door behind him, the hallway is quiet. 

As is the rest of the house as I step through, a ghost of the loud ruckus I'd once walked into. It seemed different. Changed somehow.

The first sound I hear is the clatter of glasses shaking as someone rounds out the kitchen, bearing a tray in their hands.

The first thing my eyes land on is pale, slender large hands tightening on the tray, a tremor in them and when my eyes drift up it's to see dark eyes widened with surprise before morphing into a look of sheer, giddy relief.

The second sound I hear is my name.

Exhaled in a shuddered breath, low and disbelieving and full of wonder.

"(Y/N)."

And then he's hastily setting the tray down on a nearby shelf, rushing forward and arms encircling me as he draws me close, body moulding to my own and lips pressing to my temple. His arms feel like comfort, feel like finding myself home after a long, weary journey, body sinking against his, leaning towards the inexplicable safety I feel in them.

And it feels as if I've waded through centuries, drawn myself out of the heavy tug of water over and over for this.

For him.

For that feeling of belonging somewhere.

(THERE YOU GO~ I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG! BUT I AM OFFICIALLY BACK WITH WRITING AND HOPEFULLY I'LL STAY ON TRACK WITH THE NEW UPDATE SCHEDULE I'VE DECIDED ON! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE WAIT AND THANK YOU FOR ROOTING HER ON! AND HERE WE ARE... THE BEGINNING OF IT BEING OKAY AND SLOWLY WE'LL GET THERE. LET'S SEE WHAT THE NEXT CHAPTER BRINGS FOR THEM BUT MOSTLY JUST SOFTNESS AND HEALING AND TRUST! AND LET'S SEE HOW THEY NAVIGATE IT OUT... BECAUSE THIS IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT STAGE IN THE PLOT I WANT TO DO IT RIGHT WHICH IS WHY THESE UPDATES COME A BIT SLOWER- BECAUSE I RE-WRITE AND GO THROUGH EACH BIT CAREFULLY. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT, TAKE CARE AND ENJOY!)

QUESTION... THE NIGHT OF THE TRIO'S TURNING, ANOTHER MOMENT IN THEIR HISTORY OR~ SOMETHING SPECIFIC REQUESTS FOR LITTLE SNIPPETS?

Mine is... I'm really excited to write two specific chapters in the future; their past before they got turned and that man that means so much to her!

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3