Platonic

Rose gold and sienna paint the sky as the sun breaks through its confines at the edge of the ocean, peaking its head over the crest of the horizon and marching forward with golden fingers, grasping the dark of night and exposing it, painting the world anew with the light of day.

It is often that Jimin finds himself here, in the waxing state of morning, sleep long forgotten as he sits atop the smooth cement of the breakers below the docks, staring down into the swirling waves as the crash and sway. They remind him of freedom, of strength, as they clash and leap, never making it up the barrier but persisting in their attempts nonetheless. It gives him a glimpse into a situation that is entirely different from his own; it calms him, helps him find some sort of center, some form of peace.

The breeze is frigid as it sweeps across his cheeks, leaving them puffy and numb as it rakes salt against flesh thin as onion skin. It plays through his bleached bangs, lifting them from his forehead, and he leans forward, slight arms pulling tighter against his shins as he buries his face into his knees, the skin of his face burning and stinging from sudden warmth and friction as he burrows against the cotton of his black sweatpants.

From deep within his pocket, he feels his phone vibrate and he groans, unclasping his hands, sheathing one within the sleeve of his worn, grey hoodie and pressing it to his forehead to shield him from the wind and the light of the rising sun, brow furrowing beneath the weight of his forearm. Dropping his eyes to his midsection, he stretches out his left leg and lets it dangle over the edge of the breaker, unfolding his body enough to allow him to reach his phone and withdraw it, swiping the message preview away before unlocking it and turning it to silent.

Setting his phone to the side, he leans back, laying a palm flat on each side of his body, kicking out with his right leg and letting it fall beside his left, enjoying the feeling of his sneakered heels bouncing against the solid grit of cement block. He swings his feet forward and back as he studies the clouds wisping across the sky. They remind him of cotton candy and he risks a moment of childishness as he wonders if they taste as sweet.

Stupid. Shaking his head, he levels his gaze with the horizon once more, chocolate orbs narrowing, mouth twisting in concentration as he wrangles the errant whispers dancing around his brain. A sigh escapes him as he attempts to tug at the ends of them, to wrest them from their entanglement, but his mind is such a mess of tumultuous emotion and thought that it is too much, leaving him with empty fingers, devoid of anything to say or focus on.

A particularly rough wave crashes against the breaker just below his feet, splattering his pant legs with icy droplets and he frowns, shifting his weight and dragging his legs upward, shifting as he bends his knees so that he can swing around and lay on his stomach, toes tapping his forgotten phone as he slithers along. His heart skips several beats, eyes widening, mouth pulling into a small, round "o" before opening in a pitchy yelp as he darts toward it, fingers outstretched but still too far behind.

The phone doesn't have far to skid before it falls over the edge and he's not quite sure which is louder, the roaring of the waves or the rough clatter that sounds in place of the mortifying splash he was expecting. Gulping down the bile that rose to his throat in his panic, he drags himself the rest of the way to the edge of the breaker, lungs burning from the breath he holds as he leans over, vision blurry with anticipation as he scans the surface of what had once been another breaker, eyes scanning its cracked surface until, finally, his heart jumps back into action, a relieved breath whistling through his nostrils at the sight of his face down phone.

He's not entirely sure he can make the drop, it's at least halfway from where he currently sits height-wise, but he doesn't really have a choice. If he loses his phone again he may as well forget what the outside world feels like; he'll be spending the remainder of his days slaving away to afford a new one.

Pushing his body back into a sit, he steels his nerves, fingertips digging in and dragging against the sharp edge before he pushes off, trying to be mindful of how relaxed his thin legs should be to minimize the impact. It doesn't work the way he thought it would, and as his feet connect with the unforgiving concrete beneath him, he cries out, pain shooting through the arches of his feet and reverberating up his shins.

He teeters for a moment, hopping from foot to foot as he waits for the pain to subside, turning in place to stare up the breaker from where he just fell, cheeks pricking hot in embarrassment as his gaze lights on the row of worn, rusted handles protruding from the breaker's smooth surface. In his haste to recover his phone, he had missed their presence entirely.

"Stupid." Balling his hands into fists, he presses one to the side of his head, anger at himself for losing his head so quickly rolling and bubbling within his chest as he strides across the concrete, bending sharply at the waist and snatching his phone, turning it over in his hands to inspect the damages.

A large crack obscures the middle of the smooth surface of the phone's screen, spiderwebbing lightly, though it's nothing that will impede his use of the phone. He hopes. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he squints down at the phone and taps the "home" button, silently willing it to life.

It lights, prompting him to enter his PIN. He brings it to his chest, uttering a muted thank you to no one in particular before moving to slide it back into his pocket, a distinct, wet plop meeting his ears as he does.

It wouldn't have bothered him, wouldn't have caused him to freeze in place, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking to a stand and goosebumps dancing up and down the flesh of his arms, had there been something around to drop into the ocean. But he is alone.

Isn't he?

Another plop sounds from the opposite side of the first and he jumps, head whipping to follow the noise, eyes finding nothing but the docks and the sway of the sea. This doesn't put him at ease.

Folding his arms and tucking his hands tightly into his armpits, he shuffles to the edge of the breaker, breath unnecessarily loud as he nears it, anticipation pricking the edges of his eyes and blurring his vision as he dips his chin, stretching his neck out and studying the surface of the water below him, his reflection billowing and bobbing along with the waves.

And then it smiles. A hand flies to his mouth to cover his strangled cry of fright when he realizes that isn't his reflection, his heart hammering as his curiosity locks his knees into place, preventing him from retreating from this new face taking form just below crystal blue.

It is a young man's face that stares back at him, but it isn't entirely human. Whatever it is cocks its head to the side, dark, cropped locks dancing along as they follow, framing the face and shifting to reveal what can only be called fins on either side of its head, trailing about halfway down its neck. From where he stands, he can make out a luminescent sparkle that begins where the fins end and continues until it reaches the creature's shoulders.

Scales? He isn't sure why he's even questioning this, why he's curious about any of this when obviously whatever it is isn't real. Couldn't be real, right?

Blinking rapidly, he drops to his knees, every fiber of rationality in his being urging him back up the rungs to his perch, telling him to forget about the illusion beneath the water and to hurry back to reality.

His curiosity has already gotten the better of him, however, and he places one hand against the edge of the concrete, the other shooting forward, fingertips shaking as they stretch toward whatever mirage lurks just below the surface of the water, his eyes snapping shut, face twisting in adrenaline fueled anticipation.

A steady, heavy hand claps down on his shoulder just as his fingers break the surface of the water and he yelps, kicking away as he yanks back his hand, smacking the back of his head against a pair of knees, nearly taking its owner down as he scrambles away.

Laughter meets his ears like a slap in the face as he pushes himself up, glaring at the dimpled face before him, wanting nothing more than to yank the stupid hat off its head and throw it into the water.

"That isn't funny, Namjoon." He steps forward, hands curling into fists at his sides, cheeks burning as he glares at the other young man, who can't help but continue in his incessant giggling.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Namjoon just barely manages to side step a swipe that was meant to graze the side of his face. "Hey! I called you, asked you what you were doing down here. Didn't you hear me, ChimChim?"

Jimin blinks, relaxing his defensive stance as he studies his friend's face. He hadn't heard him, he hadn't heard anything but the wind and the waves.

"N-no, I... I didn't hear anything at all." He swipes over his eyes with the back of his hand, closing one eye and glaring at Namjoon skeptically. "What are you doing out here?"

Namjoon shrugs, moving to wrap an arm around Jimin's bony shoulders. He stiffens, but doesn't move away. There's no point, Namjoon has already felt the prominence of his shoulder bones; though he'll never comment on it out loud, Jimin knows he's taken note of their change since everything began.

"Jungkook got worried when you didn't answer him about walking to work. I figured you were out here again, simple as that."

A wince tugs at Jimin's features and he grunts, heart sinking a bit at the thought of everyone worrying about him. He couldn't stop them, though, so he didn't try.

"Sorry, I--"

"Don't worry about it; Jungkook will get used to it." Namjoon's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes this time as he studies Jimin's face. "You sure you're okay?"

Jimin shrugs; there really isn't anything he can say that he hasn't a million times before. Namjoon nods, letting the matter drop and moving his hand from Jimin's shoulder to grasp his hand.

"C'mon. I bet you're hungry, yeah?"

He doesn't answer this either, but Namjoon reads the information he needs in the drop of his features. Swinging their joined hands gently, Namjoon starts off toward where they came, pausing only when he reaches the end of their joined reach, sighing as he waits for Jimin to follow.

Jimin's knees are a bit weaker than he remembers them, thoughts of the face below the water's surface swirling about his mind as he turns from Namjoon, feeling the weight of his friend's eyes as he casts a final glance over his shoulder, the glaring absence he finds there still not enough to lift the probing suspicion in his mind.

These suspicions, however, would have to wait for another day to be proven or dispelled. He had already worried his friends, certainly they would stage some sort of intervention if he claimed he could see creatures in the sea.

Shaking his head, he turns his attention back to Namjoon, willing his lips into a small smile of reassurance before stepping off, meeting him stride for stride and forcing the boy beneath the waves into the back of his mind.