KOOK POV:

Jin hyung and Joon hyung step back first.

Step back through the living room, eyes searching and drifting across us, pausing at the unfamiliarity of the other sirens before stepping through.

(Y/N)'s not with them even though they'd left with her and her absence makes my body tighten, hand clutching tightly at Jiminie hyung's; his grip equally as fierce and tension thrumming in his taut posture and worried expression.

"She's with Habaek." Joon hyung says softly, his and hyung's hair damp and hurriedly towelled, clothes changed into unfamiliar ones. Habaek's.

Both of them sport reddened eyes, a sorrow and agony in them that isn't masked as they sink down, hovering and trying to lend support and comfort when it's clear something's tearing at them.

But neither Habaek nor (Y/N) appear.

And the other sirens' gazes focus back on us, Mi-sun eyeing the two groups on opposite ends, worriedly taking in the stiff postures before she speaks.

"They're.... they're with (Y/N)." she introduces, voice lax, void of it's usual warmth. There's a heaviness to her words even if her tone softens slightly.

The eyes that focus are curious and intent, there figures wrapped in towels and slowly drying themselves off.

"We've all heard of Jungkook... from... the competition." The woman hedges carefully, eyes soft as she thinks of (Y/N).

I duck my head in greeting, feeling put on the spot.

"They're with (Y/N) how?" the second man asks, eyes drifting across all of us, contemplative and intrigued.

"(Y/N)'s... she's... she's our missing puzzle piece." Hobi hyung says, voice aching and raw, eyes haunted and hair dishevelled, fingers trembling as they sink against his legs, try to still.

But the words ring out to an empty room.

Puzzle piece isn't emotion enough.

It isn't answer enough.

Not when she was everything to us.

When she meant the world to us.

And right now we were seeing that very world shatter and fall apart, we were seeing our world submerged into salty waters that gripped at her relentlessly and refused to let go.

We were seeing our world crumble because she wasn't sure of her own place in ours, because she was drowning and it was beyond the hold the ocean held over her as a siren, it was her getting lost in her grief and agony and anger. It was her drowning in her life as just (Y/N) when she couldn't escape the label of being a siren.

"She's... everything. (Y/N) means everything to us." Tae hyung echoes, words propelled by bitten red lips, cheeks blotchy with tears and a shakiness to his words, a relief in her being safe, in her being out of the same waters Jin hyung and Joon hyung had watched her sink into. Resurfacing hours upon hours later, chilled to the bone, slick with water and body bare; the thin clinging layer of clothes doing nothing to hide or protect her body.

There's a taut silence, fragile and dangling over us before it shatters.

Shatters not by their words or voices.

"Don't interrogate them Chang-Wook oppa." A voice ragged and hoarse.

Shaky but firm.

And (Y/N) steps through to the living room, a dangerous swaying tilt to her body as she takes staggering steps, Habaek's hand curled protectively around her.

Her eyes, like Jin hyung's and Joon hyung's, are red but hers are puffy and swollen with tears, her voice aches, hoarse as if she barely has enough breath to breathe let alone speak.

The man looks abashed and contrite for all but one instance, gaze softening with concern when Habaek closes the distance when she sways, the flushed heat to her skin an almost angry red as if she's scoured herself, tried to claw the smell and feel of salt off her skin.

"Sweetheart you should sit down." Chang-Wook frets, body half-rising from the sofa but Habaek draws her into the nearest seat, flanking it protectively.

"You three should shower off the Ocean." She replies with a grimace, pain searing across her eyes.

"We'll head out soon. You just... looked in a rougher shape." The unnamed male says, harsh, fierce features softening entirely when he looks at her, long damp hair grazing his throat.

She gives a fierce smile, straining at the edges to keep it up there but genuine nonetheless.

"No more damage than usual. I'll be fine." She reassures.

But not a single person in the room looks entirely appeased by that.

I want to desperately believe it, want to believe her but her eyes flicker with too many phantoms and ghosts, too haunted for me to be soothed by her words.

And whilst the three leave, sluicing off the salt from their skin, tugging off the clothes that were moulded and seemingly designed into their skin... Mi-sun returns with a hot water bottle, wrapping (Y/N)'s hands around it. Both Habaek and Mi-sun move with practiced ease around her, flitting about to make her more comfortable. And their familiarity to the blanched clammy pallor of her skin under the angry red is still tinged with worry.

If they've seen her like this for centuries and still remained so affected... how were we to ever forget? I already knew the memory of her staggering out of the water, of her cries and blue tinged skin was seared and branded across my mind's eye.

And slowly I gravitate to her. Move closer until I'm sinking down to lean against the couch but her hand curls around my wrist, eyes silently imploring as she shifts on the sofa. Tugging me to sit beside her. 

A part of me I hadn't known was still so tightly coiled up and high strung relaxes when she leans against me, curling close and burrowing against me, the heat of the hot water bottle sleeping between us, fingers interlocking.

"Is there anything we can do? Anything you need?" I ask, voice hushed.

Knowing that the hyungs were just holding back... just about from tearing across and wanting to help, holding back because they didn't want to swarm her, didn't want to stifle her. Because we didn't know how to help, what to do to help her after a service.

But we were going to learn, we were going to do everything we could.

"You guys should go home. Rest." She murmurs, even as her grip on my hand unconsciously tightens.

The hyungs look stricken. Wondering if staying was doing more harm than good.

But Habaek's hand comes to squeeze her shoulder.

"What've we said cherub? Ask for what you want... ask for your needs."

And her expression flickers.

A part of me grows to realise more and more that she's so unaccustomed to that. She's never selfishly asked for her needs, she's always chosen to close up if it means glossing over something messy or complex or something troubling her.

But it was unhealthy.

She'd founded her entire survival on that but she didn't need to with us.

She didn't need to hide and didn't need to stifle her wants.

My thumb brushes over her knuckles, squeezing back tightly.

"Do you want us to stay?"

A few beats of silence and then a small, jerky nod. Curling further against me as a way to hide but also silently telling me not to go.

Her head ducks down under mine and my free hand rubs a line up and down her spine.

"Then we'll stay. We'll always stay."

--------

It's painful to see her try to deal with the pain and trauma alone. In ways she's always tried to deal with them.

That first night she doesn't sleep, eyes plagued and body too caged to rest, remaining upright, back pressed against the couch, mind still lost and trapped in the memory of being in the ocean. It's as if her body hasn't yet escaped the lingering shock of it.

It's a cycle of listlessness, picking at food, nausea making her throw it up afterwards, tears trickling down her cheeks silently, body trying to fold in on herself, eyes heavy with shame and guilt. Not wanting to show this part of herself... and yet she doesn't tell us to leave.

She leaves herself exposed and bare.

Broken and bruised but not hiding anymore.

It's a cycle of just trying to be there for her. Holding her, throat closing up at the sound of choked sobs the night can't guise under its darkness, her body drawn to one of us, trying to hold her and feeling desperately as if maybe if we held her tight enough, she wouldn't fall apart.

Days are full of normalcy... an attempt at it. it's finding her in the kitchen with Jin hyung, guiding him around her space with a smile that's void of any phantoms, voice teasing and lilting. It's finding Habaek cradling her as he reads, her eyes fluttering and face smoothening out in sleep as she clutches at him. It's in how Yoongi hyung gently slots headphones over her ears, head on her lap as he plays music for her, their hands locked together. But the nights... the nights are when she can't escape the nightmares refusing to unhinge their claws from her mind. Her skin clammy with sweat and body trembling.

The third day that follows, dawns after a long night broken with unrest she slowly raises herself up, body staggering as she unwinds the blankets from around her.

Hobi hyung is immediately steadying her, rushing up to curl a hand around her as she tilts slightly.

"Where are you going?" he murmurs.

Her tired eyes drift to him.

"Studio."

I sit up straighter, feeling Tae hyung's body shift alongside mine, head rising off my shoulder.

I have a feeling that trying to make her stop will make her stifle those emotions she danced out. Would suffocate her.

"I'll go with you." I say, echoed by Jiminie hyung and Hobi hyung immediately.

Understanding in their eyes.

Tae hyung's hand curls around my arm, worry pooling in the exhausted tug to his eyes.

"But... don't let her overwork herself." He murmurs pleadingly.

I squeeze his fingers, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"That's why we're going."

And so when she trudges into the studio, movement stilted until the music plays; until she lets every motion pour out through every beat, every twist and precise move she executes flawlessly; the weariness easing away from her body, leeched away by the music... I watch. We watch.

Watch as she goes through rounds, eyes sharp with focus, ready to intervene if her body becomes exhausted. From beside me Jiminie hyung rises, quietly moves forward towards the centre.

Silently hyung slots into the dance, curving with her, supporting her, steadying her body with his, silently reading and predicting her movements and becoming a seamless shadow, drawing the pressure of her feet that wobble slightly, arms wound around her, drawing her close.

Silently he becomes an extension of her body, moving fluidly, worry and concern flickering when her body sags, crumpling against him during a twist.

The music shuts immediately, paused as Hobi hyung rushes forward, hands worriedly flitting over her, drawing her and hyung down before peering at the same leg that had buckled first.

But she's not injured.

She's not injured, lungs loosening as I kneel beside hyung, hands carefully checking for injuries.

She just curls closer to Jiminie hyung whose eyes pool with worry and tenderness, cradling her nape against him as her body trembles.

Pressing a kiss to her temple.

"What's wrong angel?" he coaxes.

I duck behind hyung, head lowering to try peer at her, greeted with eyes pooled with tears, eyes clenching shut when my hand takes hers, head burrowing.

"Their faces won't leave. I—I forget during the day and it's like my mind punishes for me it at night. As if I have no right to let them fade from memory." Voice muffled but there's no hiding the agony that tears through each word.

Hobi hyung's face shatters, hand stilling at the base of her back and there's a fierce, protective gleam in his eyes.

"(Y/N)... baby come here. Look at me." he pleads, voice low and soft and her curled up figure shrinks, ducking smaller even as her fingers loosen slightly from around mine.

"You... living with their faces haunting you is punishment (Y/N). You're suffering." Jimin says quietly, voice wavering, eyes glassy. Their breaths are still slightly ragged from exertion, his skin glistening with sweat.

"I deserve to. And I'll be punished for years more." 

My heart wrenches painfully.

Fingers curling closer.

Years more for us.

Years more to pay for the price of our lives.

It was a burden every single siren was carrying, had chosen to share her debt. Hadn't questioned or hesitated in lessening her pain... that was brought onto her because we were in the waters.

And she'd forfeited her freedom for our existence.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're paying for us. I'm sorry it's a cost we can't ever amount to." The words spill past my lips, eyes stinging.

She goes painfully still.

Head rising up in alarm, eyes glossy with tears and cheeks wet with them.

Lips parting in a shuddery exhale, shaking her head as her grip loosens.

"I didn't... it's not like that..."

"You're suffering longer because you found our lives worth saving." I say.

"It's not... are you here because you feel indebted?" voice shaky and raw.

Hyungs' faces turn stricken and my eyes widen, shifting closer until I'm leaning against Jimin hyung's back. Cupping her cheek, fingers damp with her tears.

"We're not staying out of burden... or out of some weighted responsibility. We're here because hyung meant it. We mean it... our missing puzzle piece. We need you." I say, voice wavering.

Our missing piece.

We needed her.

We were complete with her.

I look at her, drink in the red lining her eyes, the vulnerability as she leans away from hyung, straightening up, hands trembling as she brushes her tears back.

It aches to see her hurt over and over.

I wanted to be there on the other end when she was free from all of this.

I wanted to see her experience happiness that amounted to lifetimes in the mortal span she'd have with us.

I wanted to see her free.

"Will you help me forget?" voice pleading.

How many cries of help had she swallowed down?

"We'll help you heal."

YOONGI POV:

I stare at the pile of books, ranging in patterns and textures and age; worn out from time and yet so preciously kept. And a sense of foreboding grows at the nauseated expression Mi-sun and Habaek give it, watching as (Y/N) adds more to the pile. A heaviness to her shoulders but hope glimmering in her eyes as she silently stacks them up.

"These are....?" Namjoon hedges with wariness, surprised by the meticulous condition, eyes gleaming at the older designs.

But a part of me feels hesitance, feels apprehension as I look at them.

There's nothing good in those books.

"I told Tae I liked scrapbooking." She admits.

Her shoulders duck at her own words that follow.

"I... I for as long as I could've, I made sure I wouldn't forget the lives gone. They deserved to be mourned, remembered... even... even by the person who took their life."

My mind dawns with comprehension, iciness spreading across my body.

"These books... are the people gone." I surmise.

Her eyes flicker with shame.

"How... how long have you been doing this?" Jin hyung asks, voice hushed, throat bobbing as he swallows heavily. Anguished at the thought of her suffering and cementing her trauma this way.

Trapped within it because she felt too guilty to let go.

"Since... London." Voice trembling, the location meaning something.

The way Mi-sun and Habaek's postures become protectively cagey, curling closer is indication enough.

Snippets of songs and melodies merge together.

So many of the records (Y/N) had looked for had been popular during the height of waltzes, ballroom mingling with classical violin and piano.

How many tied in to the person that had meant everything... had left her devastated afterwards? My heart ached for the love they'd had and the love they'd lost.

Yearned and wished that they could've had longer.

But she'd been trapped in this unhealthy coping habit for decades. Worsened because she didn't have anyone to heal with, anyone to help her overcome it.

But she had us now.

"It's time to let them go (Y/N). You've atoned for deaths that weren't your fault... that you couldn't control." Habaek murmurs to her.

But her eyes show how much she doesn't dare believe it.

"It's... they don't deserve to be forgotten." She says fiercely, setting down another book. The newest and Tae's eyes flicker, recognition flashing across his face at the sight of it.

"They were mourned... (Y/N) their families remember them, they mourned but they also healed. It's time to give yourself the same chance." I murmur, drawing her back away from them.

She nods.

"To move on I have to let go. I have to let myself be free the same way they are now." She murmurs to herself, reassuring and trying to instil faith and hope.

"You have to find peace the way they have." Mi-sun encourages.

I stare at the books.

"So what are you going to do with them?" Tae asks.

"Get rid of them once and for all. Permanently." Sinking back against me, hand reaching back for my own. I take it, fingers lacing together, pressing a kiss to the back of her head.

"You want to burn them? Like those letters?" I ask.

She shakes her head.

"I'm going to let the Ocean have them. Let Her take back the victims She claimed."

I tense slightly, the others looking just as worried at the thought.

"I... you want to go back?" Jimin asks with a frown, worry seeping into his expression.

"I hate the Ocean.. but it's... I've grown to realise more and more that this isn't my burden to shoulder alone. She makes us sing. She deserves to remember every person She's taken, every family She's torn." Voice more level than I'd heard it in days.

There's strength burning in the fierce resolve she builds herself back with.

And what else would I do then be a support to stabilise it? To make it unshakeable.

"Usually I'm always with Joon... protect the planet and nature... but the Ocean; she can take the poisoning all this ink will give." Jin says fiercely.

It startles a laugh out of her.

Warm and delighted.

Such a bright sound, one that had vanished over the past week, that it makes the atmosphere instantly lighten, a grin tugging at hyung's lips, eyes brightening with relief and pleasure.

"Amen to that Jin. She can take it... She's got no choice this time."

My hands loop around her, curving close to her.

"Baby steps."

"Baby steps." She echoes.

-------

I turn the car off, eyes drifting to the settled waters, bright blue sparkling under the bright sun, drumming my fingers across the wheel.

"We're here." (Y/N) murmurs, eyes focused on the sight in front of her, head turning to peer at the books that lie across the seats.

"You don't have to go in. I can get rid of them for you." I offer.

Her fingers fidget, her nervous tic showing the longer she stares at the ocean, unsettled by how calm the waves are now, gently lapping across the shore.

Not a week back they'd been churning viciously, crashing against the sand, dark waters that had sat eerily still after it had tugged the sirens under the shore.

"It's... it's my burden." She says finally.

I shake my head, hand falling away from the wheel to take her hand.

"It's our burden. You're ours just as much as we're yours. So this... I'll do this because I want to." I say firmly before undoing my belt, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek.

"Stay here love." I murmur before leaning away, stepping out of the car.

I lean over the backseats to draw out the books, gathering them close to me.

They're light but the bear a burden and weight much heavier than any person should ever have to bear, they carry decades of pain and endurance and suffering.

And as I walk towards the shore I can feel her gaze focus on me, track me as I move towards beguiling blue waters.

Toe off my shoes carefully before wading in.

I hate the feeling of fabric plastering to skin, of the chill that comes with the sea, with being abruptly soaked.

Hate the sensation and this time as the water clings to skin, it comes with a prickly sensation of disgust for the power the water holds.

For the power it's held for centuries on (Y/N) and the others, and on countless others before them.

The water seems to sting, leeching at the warmth of my body as I wade in, books clutched close to me. They're pages that'll never be turned or opened. Stories that should've long since been put to rest and closed.

Chapters of lives that ended horrifically but didn't deserve to remain branded across        (Y/N)'s soul as blood-ink stains that'd never be washed free.

I walk in further, heart racing and clenching painfully at the thought of (Y/N) doing the same over and over, wading into waters she knew were going to tug her down mercilessly, compel her to sing and make her a frozen witness to endless horrors. Cycles that repeated over and over with new faces but the painfully same tale of the siren song.

"I always thought nature sustained but you did it in a vicious way." I mutter to the waters, not caring if there's no response... if there'll never be a response that I can hear.

"You don't deserve her. You leeched for centuries you parasite and the day she's free, I hope it tears you apart. If that is you feel anything except vindictiveness." I spit out, angry sloshing through the waves, kicking at the water as I storm further, books a heavy burden I can't wait to sink into the ocean's depths... that I can't wait to chain it down.

I hope if it has sentient enough that it chokes on the feeling, suffers for an eternity for what damage and hurt it wrought on the people it took as sirens.

"I hope you remember every victim and know just how vile and toxic you are, you made sirens feel blame when they've been nothing but controlled puppets." I say, venom dripping off my voice, feelings and thoughts pouring out in a raging torrent to water.

To an assumingly silent, voiceless body.

Who knew what it was feeling. If capable of that.

Who knew what it even thought.

I didn't care.

What I did care about was tossing the books down into the waters, watching the weighted ones sink down, the lighter ones bobbing on the waters.

It brings a vicious pleasure but also a great sense of catharsis watching the books sink down, paper logged with water, ink undoubtedly streaming into the water, a great sense of calm watching the books drift down, pushed further by the tides.

"Remember how much (Y/N) resents you." I murmur, dropping the final books and watching them break the surface, ocean spray splattering across my clothes; pinpricks of cold that brush against my skin.

It's relieving to walk back out of the waters, bewildered by the way the waves seem to rush back, retreating as I step out... unravelling their hold, curling away.

My mind pleases itself with the notion the ocean's heard.

My head rises to see (Y/N) leaning against the front of the car, eyes warm as she watches me approach, sand sticking to my feet as I bend to gather my shoes, lips quirked.

"Gave the Ocean a good talking to?"

I nod, lips curving wide.

"The best. If it bothers you again, I'll go back." I promise.

Her brows rise.

"The Ocean is a she." She corrects.

I shrug, trudging forward towards her, shoulders feeling lighter.

"I'm choosing not to give it power. It's an ugly blob from now on." I remark seriously.

She laughs, arms looping around me before tugging me closer, my body trapping hers to the front of the car, eyes turning gratitude, head hooking over my shoulder.

"Thank you Yoongi. It's not easy to... but you made her... it seem slightly less powerful." She murmurs.

My hands curve around her, hugging her tightly.

"I'll help until it's nothing but a stain one day." I promise vehemently.

Her fingers tighten, brushing against the low of my back, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

"Thank you." Two words but a thousand meanings, thousand stories and thousand tales in them.

The salty tang of the ocean is nothing but a scent that'll fade, that we'll wash away.

"Let's leave." I murmur.

"Good idea..."

And it's not only me who looks and feels lighter, her body significantly looser, eyes losing some of the heaviness and fingers locked together over the console.

It's a comforting silence that surrounds us, a lighter atmosphere, the playlist I'd made for (Y/N) playing out the speakers, seeping out at a low volume.

And as I move to turn it off when we arrive, she speaks.

"Yoongi... do you have any classical Mandarin music at the Magic Shop?"

(THERE WE GO! FIRST OF ALL... I AM SO, SO SORRY. I'VE HAD THE YUCKIEST MESSIEST SLUMP FOR SS BUT I HOPE THIS CHAPTER WASN'T WEIRD OR UNFLOWY AND WAS EASY TO READ AND FOLLOW. I HOPE BABY SIREN'S PAIN CAN BE UNDERSTOOD AND HER HEALING TOO... SHE'S NEVER HAD THE BOYS WITNESS THE OTHER END OF A SERVICE AND YES... THEY STUCK WITH HER UNTIL SHE WAS READY TO TAKE SMALL STEPS FOR HER OWN WELLBEING. AND KOOKIE WILL FOREVER BE HER SAFE SPACE AND I ADORE THEM! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE CHAPTER, WHETHER IT WAS GOOD AND WHAT YOU THINK IS COMING NEXT! TAKE CARE AND STAY SAFE!)

Healing is often the hardest part of overcoming something, we suffer and endure and remain in pain because at times it feels wrong to be without the emotion, without the reminder of what's lost and what's been sacrificed. But healing isn't about "ridding" ourself of the hurt but learning to live with it, learning to realise a life exists beyond that sensation. Healing is hard but it's important to our growth.

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3