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Chapter Text

Hongjoong stared at the rough waves that stretched out before him, wind whipping through his leather armor down to his clothing as he stood at the helm of the ship. A nervous churn had taken root in his stomach, present since San’s frantic knock at his door that morning, forcing him from sleep with his heart in his throat and a cold sweat spreading over his skin. 

“I wasn’t expecting them to find us again - not this quickly…” Yeosang trailed off from his position to Hongjoong’s right, his fingers clenched so hard around the ship’s wheel that his knuckles appeared white. Dew still clung to the surface of the wheel, the sun only just beginning to break over the horizon, the entire world around them shadowed in mist. Ominous, but well suited to their current situation. 

Jaw clenching hard enough to hurt, Hongjoong tore his eyes away from the shadow that loomed just ahead of the horizon, his eyes falling closed for a brief moment as he forced an exhale. “There’s nothing we can do now. They found us, and they’re blocking our way. San was able to give us enough time to prepare - it has to be enough.” 

Hongjoong didn’t voice the rest of his thoughts, forcing his shoulders to draw up straighter. What if it isn’t enough? What if, after everything, this is the time our luck runs out? His crew would be looking to him for strength, and if he couldn’t provide that then they might as well sink their ship themselves.

The wooden planks of the deck creaked beneath Hongjoong’s unforgiving stride as he abandoned his position at the helm, Yeosang’s steps echoing his own just a moment later. No time stood to be wasted, and though his heart felt like lead in his chest, he knew where he needed to go first. 

San had been the first to see the enemy ship come into view, his eyes like a hawk’s even when the dark made it nearly impossible to see beyond the rails of their own ship. From his perch in the crow’s nest, San had seen the enemy ship seemingly materialize out of thin air, the shadow gradually gaining opacity until there was no denying its corporeality. 

He had quickly roused Hongjoong and Yeosang, the distant glow of night catching the gleam of fear in San’s eyes, exposing the stakes of the situation before any words could escape his mouth. As Hongjoong crossed the deck, he registered that several more bodies had exited the cabin door, the air thickening with tension. 

“Hongjoong, what-” Mingi began, a loosely wrapped fist rubbing at his left eye as he took a step forward, fleece pajamas bunching at his wrist. 

Heart tugging at the sight of his crewmate, Hongjoong forced himself to keep walking, the sound of his steel-toed boots ringing through the night as he passed Mingi by. There would be time to discuss the circumstances shortly - not enough time, but he was trying not to think about that - and a more pressing matter pounded at his skull in the meantime. 

Leaving his crew on the deck, Hongjoong entered the cabin and strode down the hallway, Yeosang no longer following him. The ship listed slightly to the right, and he brushed his fingertips against the wall for balance, approaching the door to the crew quarters. It had been left ajar by the others, and Hongjoong pushed it open the rest of the way, his throat tight. 

One shadowed form remained in the room, hunched on the bottom bunk, cloaked in darkness. Just enough light came in through the window for Hongjoong to make out the corner of a blanket that hung over the side of the bunk, and he watched it tremble along with the boy who had wrapped himself within it. 

A pang shot through Hongjoong’s chest at the sight, and he gently stepped inside the room and clicked the door shut before approaching the bunk, dropping to his knees, his expression consumed by the concern that he felt. “Wooyoung?” He asked quietly, not wanting to startle him, though he was sure that his entrance had already announced his presence. 

Silence hung heavy in the air between them, until a soft sniffle dispersed it like a drop of water rippling the surface of a still lake. The blanket was wrapped tightly around Wooyoung’s shoulders, bunched under his chin and hiding the rest of his body from view, though Hongjoong could picture how he held his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around them so tight out of fear of falling apart completely. 

“I - I thought they were going to leave us alone,” Wooyoung murmured, his voice frail and unsteady. Hongjoong wished he could pluck the words out of the air and cradle them, but they dispersed just as words always did. No matter how badly you wished to keep them, they were always fleeting. “You said that I wouldn’t have to hide again so soon.” 

Hongjoong exhaled heavily, cursing himself for ever making such a statement. He had believed it at the time, but clearly things had changed, though he still didn’t understand how a ship that they had left behind was now directly in their path again. He felt the first sparks of rage come to life in his gut, forcing them away despite how badly he wanted to fan the flames. Not now - not around Wooyoung. 

“I know, and I’m sorry for telling you that, but there’s no other choice now, Wooyoung. We need to go, okay? You can’t stay in here, you know that. There’s not much time,” he urged, trying to keep his voice calm, though he couldn’t prevent the slight underlying strain. 

Instead of responding to that, Wooyoung finally shifted his position just enough to meet Hongjoong’s eyes, unshed tears clinging to his lashes. Hongjoong swallowed around the lump in his throat, searching for the right thing to say. He had never been good at this - comforting the people he loved. The right words danced just out of reach, and he cleared his throat, the sight of Wooyoung’s fear rendering his mind useless. 

He loved Wooyoung like family, would do anything for him, but all he could do now was get to his feet and extend a hand to the trembling figure on the bottom bunk. Self hatred flared stronger than all of his other warring emotions, and he didn’t force it down, letting it wash over him. 

After all, he deserved it - Wooyoung sniffled again as he stared up at Hongjoong, everything in his eyes begging for his captain to fix this. That was a captain’s job, wasn’t it? But Hongjoong just stood there, even as he mentally screamed at himself to kneel back down and wrap Wooyoung in the embrace he so clearly needed. 

The disconnect that had been ingrained in Hongjoong since childhood still persisted, and it was so easy, so familiar, to hate himself for it. Because if no one had ever shown him comfort when he was a child, how was he supposed to understand it now? 

After being told that the innate desire for such things was a weakness, after having it beaten into his still growing bones time and time again, Hongjoong couldn’t offer something so simple as a hug and words of comfort. Not that he thought Wooyoung was weak for needing it, for he tended to think the complete opposite, but he knew that the only thing keeping his own constitution together was his rage, his anger, his hate. 

Take all of that away, and he would never be able to captain a ship. If he allowed himself to be vulnerable, he would lose everything he had built for himself. 

By not comforting Wooyoung now, he was ensuring that the boy would stay safe, even as his heart sang an opposing tune. 

Eyes falling down to the floor, Wooyoung stood up from the bunk, his shoulders caved inwards as if for protection. He kept the blanket wrapped around his torso, his pajama pants visible below the waist, stopping just above his ankles. Just a tad too short now - the boy had grown.

The thought made Hongjoong’s lips turn down into a frown. It felt like just yesterday that Wooyoung had been swimming in the very same pair of pajamas, his smile bright and the sleeves nearly passing over his fingers. 

So little of that younger boy remained, and Hongjoong tried not to let himself wonder how the comfort of his captain from the beginning could have prolonged Wooyoung’s innocence. His fingers twitched at his sides, but he balled them into fists, guiding Wooyoung to the door. 

The two of them silently walked back through the hall, the interior brighter now that the sun had risen higher in the sky. Hongjoong stopped at a door near the cabin entrance, bracing his hand on the knob for a moment. 

“I’m scared, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung whispered, and Hongjoong gripped the knob a little tighter, ignoring how he resonated with the words. Wooyoung’s ability to express his feelings without shame still struck Hongjoong by surprise, cutting deep before he had the chance to compose himself.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But you will be protected in here, okay? Only I have the key, and there’s nothing for them to raid down here.” If that was the reason for their interference at all. It was becoming more likely that they desired nothing but bloodshed and lives, and if that was the case, Hongjoong would protect this door with his life. 

Sweat slicked his palms, and he chose not to express that last thought aloud, sparing Wooyoung any added fear. He turned the doorknob, the hinges creaking as he pulled the door open and began to descend the stairs, every step of his heavy boots contrasted by the slapping sound of Wooyoung’s canvas kitchen shoes right behind. 

Hongjoong pressed his lips together as the cell came into view, for this truly never got easier no matter how many times he had to do it. It felt inherently wrong to lock one of his crew members in this cell - the most vulnerable one of their number, no less - but that was precisely the reason why it needed to be done. 

Only Hongjoong held the key to the cell, ensuring that none of their enemies could lay hands on Wooyoung. And that was only if they made it down here in the first place, which had never happened before, but they still had to take every precaution. In the event that the other pirates did break into the cabin, they would surely go for this room last, barren as it was. That would have to be enough. 

With fear written into every feature of his face, Wooyoung stepped closer to the bars of the cell, running his fingers over the cold metal for a moment before shuffling his way over to the entrance. The corner of his blanket dragged against the floor, and Hongjoong lifted it as he walked by, tucking it up under Wooyoung’s arm. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Hongjoong reassured, though his voice sounded more gruff than he had intended. “I - I mean it.” He had been about to say I promise, but amidst these circumstances, he couldn’t. Even if just for Wooyoung’s peace of mind, he couldn’t let himself say that word. Not if he wasn’t completely certain, as terrible as it was to admit. 

The scrape of metal against metal filled the small space as Wooyoung pulled open the door to the cell, his brows scrunching together at the unpleasant sound. No matter how many times they had done this, it still felt so wrong to see Wooyoung behind the thick bars, shadows cast over his small form. This was the best thing for him though, and they both knew it. 

Hongjoong would never forget Wooyoung’s first battle, and in moments like these the memory floated closer to the surface of his mind. One moment the boy had been brandishing a sword, his inexperienced grip awkward and unsteady, and the next he had been crumpling to the floor, hands over his ears as his guttural screams pierced the night. 

Battles brought back dreadful memories for him, and though it hurt Hongjoong to leave him down here alone, Wooyoung could offer no help. Knowing that he would be safely locked down here would allow for Hongjoong to direct all of his attention to the fight at hand, and they would never survive to sail another day if he was distracted. 

Brandishing the key from the depths of his pocket, Hongjoong inserted it into the lock on the cell door, turning it until he heard a resounding click. Wooyoung watched him with wide eyes, the shadows draping over his face and hiding the softness of his skin, the boyish look of his features. He looked older, more haunted when he was down here. It was no wonder that Wooyoung refused to even approach this door outside of these situations. 

“It’ll be okay,” Hongjoong reassured once more, and he waited for Wooyoung’s answering nod, a slight dip of the boy’s head. Then he turned on his heel, taking the steps back up into the cabin, his heart twinging as he shut the door behind him, leaving Wooyoung all alone. It never got any easier, despite how he schooled his expression into one of indifference. 

Exiting back out onto the deck, Hongjoong was relieved to find that in the meantime, Jongho had supplied the crew with their usual weapons of choice. The weapons master had chosen to wield a double bladed axe today, murder smoldering in the set of his jaw and the tense line of his shoulders. Hongjoong pitied anyone who got in his way - they wouldn’t stand a chance. 

Casting a glance back towards the helm, Hongjoong’s stomach dropped, and he grabbed the familiar hilt of his own sword as he watched the rival ship draw nearly into firing distance. “Mingi, prepare the cannons. As soon as you are sure you can make a successful hit, do not hesitate to fire. The mist is on our side tonight - it will warp their vision, distort the perceived distance between us. Don’t let it fool you too.” 

Mingi nodded. His pajamas had been traded for a set of worn leather armor, and his fingers wrapped around the curved handle of a gun. “They should be upon us in a matter of minutes. Whether this is a raid or an intended bloodbath, do not let them into the cabin. Not unless every last one of us is down, our blood soaking into the floorboards, you hear me?” 

Hongjoong already knew that his crew understood the order, for he gave the same one before every battle. His eyes locked with San’s, desperation and worry so evident in the lookout’s face. “He will be okay,” Hongjoong said, his tone less harsh. “As long as you guard that door with your life, Sannie, no harm will befall him.” 

Turning away, Hongjoong raised his sword, running his index finger along the flat of the blade, the metal cold to the touch. It had been a while since he’d used it, since their latest battles had consisted mostly of gun and cannonfire, and the grip felt just right against the palm of his hand. Bloodshed was second nature, and he couldn’t deny the thrill that shot through his bloodstream at the thought of revenge. 

Hongjoong and his crew had many rivals, but this crew had been the most persistent as of late. Now that he had the opportunity, he wouldn’t hesitate to run every last one of them through with his blade. A wicked smile curved his lips as the enemy ship creeped ever closer. 

~

The wind whipped furiously, the ends of Hongjoong’s coat flapping as he whirled around, slashing his sword directly across the throat of the pirate who had been attempting to creep up on him. The man crumpled to the deck an instant later, and Hongjoong spat over his convulsing body, not sparing him another glance as his sword clashed with the blade of the next enemy in line. 

After the rival crew had dropped their plank and began to pour onto his ship, Hongjoong had taken up his post right there by the rails, meeting every enemy that dared to step foot onto his deck. A few had slipped past while he was engaged in battle, but they were no match for Yeosang and Mingi, who had taken up ranks between Hongjoong and the entrance to the cabin. San still held vigil in front of the cabin door, but no pirate had even reached him yet, the deck already slick with blood. 

Upon the initial drop of the plank, Hongjoong had ordered Yunho and Jongho to cross, both of them cutting their way through enemies to raid their ship in return. Hongjoong didn’t care about supplies - they had plenty, and he had enough connections on land to keep them secure for a long time. What he wanted was leverage. Information. 

How did this crew know their intended path - how had they found them again so quickly? That was the information he wanted, because he couldn’t be sure of his own crew’s safety until then. 

Jongho had left the weighty axe behind, snatching a sword from a corpse on the deck before following behind Yunho, both of them hiding holstered guns as well. They were more than capable of overpowering even the most skilled of enemies, so Hongjoong spared them no worry. 

Another man came across the plank then, the majority of his face hidden by a metal guard. Only his eyes were visible, and they blazed with fury as he threw himself at Hongjoong, stabbing directly for his neck. All he met was air, however, for Hongjoong had seen the move coming from a mile away, and he took a lazy step backwards before sending a knee directly into the man’s gut. 

Hongjoong knew this man - he was the captain of the rival ship, if his attire was anything to go by. The two had faced off before, but never in close combat like this, and Hongjoong felt sick joy bubbling inside of him. A maniacal laugh escaped his lips, and he didn’t even try to stop it, knowing that he must have appeared crazed. Perhaps he was. 

The other captain fell to the deck with a strained groan, and Hongjoong bared his teeth at the man, fully aware that his face was coated in the blood of those he had already killed. Practically vibrating with energy, Hongjoong raised his sword to stab through one of the eyes glaring back at him before he stopped himself. He hesitated for just a second, the blade raised but not descending, his eyes darting just a few feet to the left. 

His enemy began to shift, a sneer twisting his features beneath his armor as he raised his own sword to knock Hongjoong’s aside, getting back to his feet albeit with a hunch to his posture. “And you call yourself their captain,” he snarled, his voice rough with exertion. “Can’t even make the killing strike, you small, pathetic thing.” 

He seemed like he was really trying to gloat - too bad that Hongjoong wasn’t paying attention to a word that left his lips. Keeping his expression schooled, he darted to the left, faking a feint that fell slightly too short. The other captain blocked it easily, towering over Hongjoong by at least half a foot, probably more. He spun the grip of his sword in his hand, clearly thinking himself victorious. 

It took everything within Hongjoong not to laugh - it would be more fun if he didn’t see this coming. 

Moving faster than the captain could track, Hongjoong lunged for Jongho’s abandoned axe where it lay on the deck, gripping the handle in his left hand as he dropped his own sword. He completed the motion in one intake of breath, and he used all of his strength to pull the axe up from the ground, swinging it up over his shoulder before it met his desired target - the captain’s sword hand. 

The axe easily had to weigh at least ten pounds, and with the added force behind Hongjoong’s blow, the thick blade cleaved through the man’s wrist like it was nothing more than softened butter. An ear-splitting scream pierced through the sounds of battle, and Hongjoong watched as the severed limb fell to the deck with a soft thud, a spurt of blood spraying the wood upon impact, the sword still clenched in lifeless fingers.

His wrist had been sliced clean across, and Hongjoong mentally commended himself for his handiwork. Jongho’s axe was a little too heavy for him to wield comfortably, but it was incredibly gratifying to watch the enemy captain’s expression twist from superiority to agony through the small window of his facial armor. 

Actually, that gave him an idea, and Hongjoong took a step forward as the captain held his wrist out in front of him, watching the rivulets of blood gush free with force. “That’s a severed artery - probably several,” Hongjoong commented with false remorse. “I don’t know enough to tell you for sure.” 

Reaching a hand out, he tugged the armor away from the captain’s face, eyes drinking in the pain laced into his features. This was the man who had ordered countless attacks against his crew, who had injured all of them at some point, and it was finally his time to be put down. Maybe it was cruel, but when it came to the safety of his crew, Hongjoong was as cruel as they come. 

“You might want to get that checked out by a doctor,” Hongjoong taunted as the other captain fell to his knees on the deck. “Looks painful.” Kicking out his leg, he drove the steel toe of his boot into the man’s chest, pushing him flat against the wooden floorboards before crouching down over him, their faces mere inches apart. His back was turned to the plank now, but Hongjoong trusted Yeosang and Mingi to cover him. 

He was close enough to see the perspiration beading around the man’s hairline, and he spoke his next words in a cold, remorseless tone. “Don’t you ever question my ability to captain this ship,” he hissed, grabbing a fistful of the man’s shirt and pressing his boot harder into his chest before stepping back once more. For good measure, he drove the thick heel of his boot into the captain’s face, hearing the satisfying crack of bone and cartilage. 

Not even bothering to inspect the damage, Hongjoong turned away from the man and back towards the rival ship. He watched Yeosang stab his knife up into the gut of the only other enemy on their deck, pulling it back out and watching the man crumble with a vaguely disinterested look on his face. “No one else is coming across,” he called to Hongjoong when he met his captain’s gaze, twirling his knife between his fingers. 

Sure enough, the plank was vacated, and the other ship looked like it was just barely hanging on. Several holes had been blasted through the sides before the plank had been dropped thanks to Mingi’s cannons, and bodies littered both decks. Jongho and Yunho had clearly done their job, and Hongjoong searched the other ship before locating the two familiar figures. 

They were making their way back to the plank from what he could tell, guns blazing and swords slicing through anyone standing in their way. A limp form hung between the two of them, and Hongjoong felt his body go rigid, sharing a glance with Yeosang as he mentally formulated his next orders. 

“Clear the deck. Now!” He yelled over the noise from the other ship, grabbing various enemy weapons and chucking them overboard, not bothering to keep anything since their weaponry was fully stocked. He didn’t want anything these men had touched, anyway. Only now did he actually notice how many bodies surrounded him, and his boots squelched in the pooled blood as he began to haul the lifeless forms over the rails, dropping them down into the rough waters below. 

He paused, chest heaving from the effort, when he laid eyes on the severed hand just inches away from the toes of his boots. Stiff fingers clutched the captain’s sword, and he noticed thick metal rings encasing each one, cut gems glistening with blood. Hongjoong didn’t want to imagine what a punch from those would feel like. 

The other captain had managed to drag himself a few feet closer to where the plank had been dropped, though he would never have been able to get himself over it. His arm still sluggishly leaked blood onto the deck, and Hongjoong wrinkled his nose at the oppressive metallic smell, his senses finally taking notice. 

As he watched, the captain tried to raise himself up on his good arm long enough to get his feet back under him, but he flopped back down onto the planks, his breaths rattling in his chest. He would only last another few minutes, Hongjoong knew enough about blood loss to know that, but he needed his deck clear now. 

Hunching over for a moment, Hongjoong slid the captain’s sword free of brittle fingers, grabbing the hilt and using the point of the blade to pick up the severed hand. He held it out in front of him, watching black drops of congealed blood gather around the severing point, a glimpse of bone showing through. 

“Your time is up,” he uttered coldly, using his boot to turn the captain over onto his back. Dazed from blood loss, all the other man could do was stare up at him, trying and failing to shift his expression into one of defiance. Hongjoong knew fear when he saw it, and this man was drowning in it. 

Again the captain tried to lift himself onto his good arm, and again he fell. Hongjoong let his eyes grow wider, his brows raising as he feigned concern, a frown tugging at his lips. “Need a hand?” He asked, tilting his head with the question even as he stabbed directly down into the man’s chest with enough force to lodge the sword in the floorboards. 

The captain’s eyes bulged, his lips parted in a silent scream as he weakly scrabbled at the blade. Close to death as he already had been, he fell limp a few seconds later, his expression permanently one of pain. 

And there on his chest, still hooked by the blade, lay his severed hand. 

“Death by your own blade,” Hongjoong said, his words caught in a particularly strong gust of wind. “Better than you deserved.” Because if Hongjoong had been alone, he wouldn’t have stopped himself so soon. Anyone who hurt his crew was deserving of nothing but his worst. 

He slid his hands under the captain’s arms, dragging him over to the rails before tossing him over with the rest of his dead crew. They didn’t deserve to be returned to the sea as far as he was concerned, but it was the best disposal method they had access to. 

Creaking filled his ears, and Hongjoong jerked his head around to watch Yunho step off the plank, the man they had captured carried over his shoulder and Jongho safely stepping on deck right after him. With a carefully placed kick, Jongho sent the plank falling into the choppy waves, the bridge between ships finally broken. 

“Yeosang, get us out of here,” Hongjoong ordered, and Yeosang was quick to comply, his light steps dashing across the deck towards the ship wheel. Mingi went off to raise the anchor, and just moments later the wind was catching in their sails once more, pulling them away from the remains of the other ship. 

San had already gone down to retrieve Wooyoung, wordlessly obtaining the key from Hongjoong as soon as he had made it back down to the deck,  the door to the cabin left ajar. Hongjoong sighed in relief, finally letting his shoulders slump as they drew away from their enemies, his crew safe at last. 

Well, aside from the one enemy they had brought aboard. 

Yunho had dropped the pirate roughly to the floor, and Hongjoong stepped up beside his first mate, eyes trained on the prone figure at his feet, a shirt hiding his head from view. Jongho came to stand with them as well, shooting a few final gunshots at the rival ship, the sounds cracking through the air until finally falling silent. 

Ears ringing slightly from the close range shots, Hongjoong watched as the pirate on the ground curled into himself, though the movement was a bit awkward due to the chains keeping his arms bound behind his back. He felt rage light within him once more, for this man had no right to act scared when he and his crew had initiated the bloodbath. 

“We found him below deck,” Yunho informed once the deck was finally silent, Yeosang and Mingi rejoining the rest of them in crowding around their new prisoner. The cabin door swung open, and Hongjoong looked over to see San and Wooyoung approaching, talking in hushed tones. 

Wooyoung had ditched the blanket, but San’s arm slung over his shoulder served almost the same purpose. The boy seemed shaken, but otherwise fine, and Hongjoong had to force himself to redirect his attention back to Yunho. “He was hiding behind one of the doors, I almost didn’t see him-” Yunho continued, the rest of his sentence interrupted by Jongho. 

“He tried to kill Yunho with a saw!” Hongjoong’s anger surged even further at that, and he balled his hands into fists at his sides, so much fury threatening to unleash itself upon the man lying before them. “I think he’s in shock now, though - he hasn’t made a sound since we took him with us. He’s just been trembling.” 

A disgusted scowl warped Hongjoong’s mouth, and he wasted no more time stepping forward and forcefully ripping the shirt free of the man’s head. He discarded it on the blood soaked deck, finally observing the face underneath. Dark, greasy hair covered the pirate’s eyes and forehead, but the rest of his skin was mottled with cuts and bruises, clearly very swollen. 

“Someone sure beat the shit out of him,” Hongjoong said, his voice gruff in his distaste. Most pirate crews were a vicious hierarchy of power imbalance, and this man must have been lower ranking on his ship. It did nothing to excuse his actions, for he deserved whatever pain he felt tenfold after all of the things he and his crew had done to the people Hongjoong cared about. It was unforgivable, and nothing this man could say to defend himself would ever change that. 

The pirate tried his best to sit up despite his chains, listing awkwardly to the side for a moment before managing to prop himself up with a wince. Fading bruises decorated the rest of his body as well, and Hongjoong’s upper lip curled at how scrawny he was. Disgusted as he was by this man, it was clear that Yunho and Jongho had made a good choice - it would likely take no more than a broken finger or two to make him crack.

Much to Hongjoong’s pleasure, the pirate’s frightened gaze locked with his own, and he channeled all of his hatred into that one glance. Heat rose to Hongjoong’s neck and face, the urge to hurt this man stronger than ever, though the enemy had the sense to look away immediately, eyes frantically scanning over the rest of the crew gathered around him. 

Coward. Hongjoong had zero interest in prolonging the inevitable, and so he stalked forward, not wanting this man to so much as look at the rest of his crew. The chains were cold against Hongjoong’s palms as he gripped them tightly, tugging the pirate across the deck with little care, ignoring the sounds of pain that followed. He deserved to be dragged through the coagulated blood of his dead crewmates - in fact, Hongjoong felt twisted joy at the thought. 

Let it be an omen of what was to come if he didn’t cooperate. 

Once he had dragged the man to the center of the deck, Hongjoong dug the steel toe of his boot into his side, flipping him over onto his back. Now fully exposed, the man squinted his eyes against the sun, and he appeared to be fighting back tears. How the mighty fall once they no longer have their own ship for protection. 

The sight was so pathetic that Hongjoong heard himself chuckle bitterly, his entire mind entranced by the hate that swarmed his senses. For so long he had wished for an outlet for said hatred, and now it seemed that the battle had been no more than a preview of the main event. He had one of his enemies on his ship defenseless, a fact that filled him with twisted satisfaction. 

Hongjoong wore his cruelty like armor - how could he not, when he had been raised by the most wicked man there was? And finally he would be able to wield it like a blade far more merciless than the one slung at his hip. 

With no care to be gentle, Hongjoong pressed the toe of his boot against the man’s face, taking pleasure in the way he cowered at the pain that must have bloomed along his existing wounds. He used his toe to turn his head further into the light, taking stock of how pathetic he looked. “This pathetic thing was part of their crew? He looks like he wouldn’t last a day out here.” 

“We found him in what we assumed was the infirmary, and he tried to kill me with a bone saw,” Yunho explained, further clarifying Jongho’s earlier remark about the saw. Hongjoong’s vision clouded over, and his muscles trembled with the desire to stab once with his sword and end this man’s life. To remove one more evil from this world, leaving one less pirate to target the people he loved. 

Unconsciously digging the boot deeper into the prisoner’s cheek, Hongjoong clicked his tongue, still tasting the metallic remnants of blood against his tongue. He had been their doctor… now that was an interesting piece of information. “Hopefully with his absence, their crew will go untreated and lose numbers.” Hongjoong nodded to himself - now that was an outcome he could get behind. 

Stepping his foot off of the pirate’s cheek, he began to circle around him instead, much like how a shark circles their prey. A phenomenon he had seen several times after living the latter half of his life on the sea, and he felt that same predatory voracity surge within himself now. Still keeping his focus on the pitiful form of the man, he addressed his crew next, watching the face of his prey. 

“Now, let’s clear up a few things. This man is a prisoner, he is not to be trusted.” As he spoke the words, Hongjoong waited for the fear to set in on the man’s face. And yet, the only change he could detect was a look akin to resignation, as if the thought of being a prisoner was no big threat. His anger surged in response, and he grinded his teeth together before continuing. 

“He is a part of that crew that stops at nothing trying to kill us. We will be as rough with him as we need to be to get information.” Hongjoong abruptly stopped walking. “And by the look of him, it won’t take much.” 

Finally Hongjoong saw the terror he had been searching for in the eyes that frantically scanned the deck, as if searching for a way out despite the open ocean that surrounded them on all sides. Even if he did manage to escape, there was nowhere to go - the thought filled Hongjoong with a depraved sense of delight. 

A fleeting thought rose to his mind then, a concern for how deeply he was losing himself to his anger, but he staunched it immediately. If there was ever a time for him to lose control, it was right here with this man as his sole target. Hongjoong knew how it felt to be so utterly beaten down, and maybe if he had better morals he would choose to feel empathy, but that ship had long since sailed. 

The only thing on his mind now was vengeance, and he would be damned if he didn’t take advantage of an opportunity like this one. 

“Yunho and Jongho, the two of you will interrogate this man. Get me the answers that I need, and we will never again have to watch one of our own bleed because of them.” He directed his gaze momentarily at the two of them, knowing that he must have looked particularly frightful then. Dried blood still clung to his face, for he had been practically bathed in the arterial spray from the rival captain’s arm, and murderous energy still ran through his body in waves. 

They both nodded, but he wasn’t finished yet. “If you fail to get information out of him, I will take things into my own hands. Do not hesitate to use force, no matter how brutal. Something tells me he’ll be an easy nut to crack.” Again they nodded their heads, though Hongjoong could practically feel their hesitance. 

None of the rest of his crew were as quick to harm as he was, a product of how hard Hongjoong had fought to keep what remained of their innocence intact. Even now, he knew that the real violence would fall onto his own shoulders, but it was a burden he had always taken on willingly. He would rather descend further into his own monstrous nature than let the same become of the others. Within Hongjoong, nothing remained to be preserved anyway. 

He now pressed his boot against the prisoner’s arm, feeling the hard resistance of bone. A sneer pulled at his face, and Hongjoong allowed the expression to fester, his lips curling further. “Your crew’s deceptions will be no more. You will give us information, either easily or with difficulty.” 

Saliva pooled underneath Hongjoong’s tongue, and he spat straight down into the prisoner’s face, reveling in the way he recoiled. That is, until the man spoke, his voice far stronger than Hongjoong had anticipated based on his appearance.

“You’re too small to be a captain.” 

Silence. 

Hongjoong couldn’t hear anything over the rage roaring in his ears, bottling up into one massive tidal wave that crashed over him at once, any remaining restraint washed away along with it. Small. The enemy captain had said the same thing to him in the midst of battle, as if the word was some kind of secret weapon, sure to make him crumble. 

What he hated the most was how right they were. Because when the prisoner spat his words, Hongjoong didn’t hear his voice - he heard the voice of his father. 

“So small, so pathetic - such a disgrace, from the day you were born.” Hongjoong’s stomach twisted as the abrasive voice filled his mind before he could stop it, nausea threatening to surge up his throat. Hatred burned through his blood like liquid fire, directed at his father, at the defiant man lying on the deck, at himself. Because despite everything, he was still weak. 

He still couldn’t prove his father wrong, and he desperately wanted to claw his own skin off, to find a different body, a different soul. One that wasn’t this tormented, still bounded by hate and shame, still affected by the words of his father. So many years of freedom, and yet nothing had truly changed. 

Hongjoong was dangerously close to losing his fragile hold on his composure, and without thinking he stomped his boot down with all of the force left in his body, a ragged yell tearing from his wind-chapped lips. The sound was drowned out by the guttural scream of pain from the prisoner, and Hongjoong could feel the scrape of bone reverberate up his leg as he stepped back, barely registering the voice yelling at him. 

“-joong! Why would you do that, he’s already been hurt enough!” Wooyoung practically screeched, his hands balled into fists as he glared at Hongjoong, eyes shining in indignation. As the only one who didn’t experience battle firsthand, Wooyoung rarely ever witnessed the brutality Hongjoong was capable of, and his shock was evident. 

Had he been in a clearer state of mind, Hongjoong would have regretted his actions instantly if only because the others were there, but he was so shaken that all he could do was shoot a glare at Wooyoung. The boy slammed his lips shut immediately, nearly stumbling back if it weren’t for San’s arm around his shoulders, and Hongjoong felt his heart twinge through his anger. 

He would regret acting like this once he had the time to cool down - he vaguely understood that, but the importance of the thought didn’t land as it should have. “Wooyoung, he’s an enemy. He and his crew have hurt us enough. He can handle a broken arm. He’s supposed to be a doctor, isn’t he?” 

None of the rest of his crew responded to his words, their expressions ranging from stony to shocked to downright upset - Wooyoung being the last one, of course. The boy said nothing, working his jaw as he cast his gaze away from his captain, blinking his eyes harshly. Wooyoung always wore his emotions on his sleeve, and Hongjoong could feel San’s eyes burning into his skin as he tightened his arm protectively around Wooyoung’s shoulders. 

He would absolutely be in for it later, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care as he focused his attention back on the prisoner, finding the man glaring up at him in untethered rage. It warped his face, turning him into something much more insolent, and Hongjoong began to wonder if perhaps his initial impression had been incorrect. He didn’t seem so weak like this, his eyes flashing bright enough to rival Hongjoong’s own. 

“You aren’t getting shit out of me, asshole,” the prisoner spat, and his lips curled into a smile even as his eyes watered with pain. “So try as hard as you want.” 

Hongjoong blustered at the words, his eyes narrowing at the challenge. “You’re going to eat those words, by the time I’m done with you,” he promised, keeping his voice low as he leaned forward, the prisoner’s battered face filling his line of vision. Swelling distorted the entire structure of his face, but those eyes burned through it all, any former fear completely erased. 

Somehow, the prisoner had gained confidence despite the threats, and Hongjoong didn’t hesitate to press his toe down directly into the already broken arm, feeling the man writhe beneath his touch. Another scream tore through the air with nowhere to go, dissipating into the spray of the waves, and Hongjoong could practically feel the pain it held. 

Hands scrabbled at his arms, pulling him back, and Hongjoong heard several voices telling him to stop this time, though his eyes remained fixed on the prisoner, watching as he fell limp. His chest heaved so rapidly that Hongjoong could tell he was about to lose consciousness, his arm bent unnaturally at his side, wrists still bound behind his back. 

Breathing heavily as well, Hongjoong shook off the hands that held him back, standing firm on the deck once more. “What are we going to do with him?” Yunho asked, his voice hesitant as if he was still reeling from everything that had just happened. 

Despite his addled brain, Hongjoong had known the answer to that question since the prisoner had first opened his mouth - he didn’t want this man anywhere near his crew. “Throw him in the cell below deck.” 

The words hung stagnant for a moment, though Hongjoong anticipated the protest that came a moment later. “Hongjoong, you can’t - that’s cruel!” Wooyoung’s voice was frantic, real fear behind his words, no doubt a product of his own experience behind the very same bars. “You said we weren’t going to use the cell-”

“Things have changed,” Hongjoong interrupted, the words colder than intended. “Yunho, Jongho, get him out of my sight.” And with that, Hongjoong began to stalk away, bypassing the rest of his crew standing just behind him. He could make amends later - right now he needed to break something, to find an outlet for the hatred that threatened to consume him. 

Canvas shoes slapped against the deck as Wooyoung ran up behind him, grabbing the shoulder strap of his armor and stopping him in his tracks. That was the thing about Wooyoung - when he got worked up about something, there was no setting aside the topic for later. Hongjoong turned around to face him, and now that the prisoner was no longer directly at his feet, he felt the buzz of anger begin to retreat as reality came back to him. 

“Hongjoong!” Wooyoung yelled, and despite the harshness of his tone, tears clung to his lashes. His expression was more betrayed than angry, and Hongjoong sighed, the beginnings of guilt clawing at his chest even as he remained firm. “How could you?! Being locked away in that cell - it makes you feel like you aren’t even human, like you’re never going to see light or happiness again. You can’t lock him up down there, you can’t!” 

His chest was heaving as he shouted the words, and Hongjoong knew how strongly he felt about the subject of the cell, if only because he had been the one to deal with the aftermath of Wooyoung’s first time being locked down there. It had been after he choked during battle, and despite Hongjoong’s desire to find somewhere else to put him, Wooyoung had been the one to suggest the cell. 

During battle, the safest place on the ship was that small room containing the cell, and they had both known it. So Hongjoong had carefully locked Wooyoung down there, unaware at the time that the constant trade of cannonfire would persist for nearly an entire day, the ship riddled with damage by the end of that particular battle. 

None of them had anticipated such a long standoff, and by the time it was over Wooyoung had been essentially unresponsive in the cell, panicking at the start of the noise until exhaustion rendered him immobile, his eyes open but unseeing, the occasional tremor still wracking his small form. Hongjoong didn’t think he would ever forget the fear he had felt then, the panic at seeing Wooyoung just lying there. 

Truth be told, he had thought the boy dead for a brief, horrifying moment. 

Once he had come back to himself, however, Wooyoung had broken down completely within the walls of Hongjoong’s room. Wooyoung was the type of person who needed to be around other people - he needed to know he wasn’t alone, to know the rest of his crew was there with him, but they hadn’t returned as the sun rose just to sink all over again. 

After the first few hours, Wooyoung had thought them all dead - Hongjoong’s heart ached just thinking about how the boy had cried, the sounds ripping from his chest again and again. The sounds of battle only served to remind him of the way his own village had collapsed, his parents dying right in front of him before Hongjoong had managed to save his life and give him a new one, and reliving everything had simply been too much for him to handle. 

Wooyoung’s voice, slightly higher in pitch with his youth, still rang in his ears as he faced the boy now. “ Have you ever… have you ever forced someone in there?” He had asked the question with undiluted fear in his eyes, hope and dread waging a war in the inky black of his pupils. 

Hongjoong had been quick to reassure that he had never forced someone behind those bars, and that he never would. The only exception had ever been Wooyoung himself, who had continued to hide in the cell during each battle, always just as shaken afterwards  - he had simply grown better at hiding it. Even when no rival ships threatened their horizons, Wooyoung still always skirted around the door to the cell room, as if the metal bars would reach out and pull him back into isolation. 

But he seemed to snap out of his despondency pretty easily this time, anger doing the trick as he waited for an answer from Hongjoong, a reason for why he was contradicting his past assurances. And Hongjoong did have his reasons, but he knew before speaking them aloud that Wooyoung would never understand - not this time. 

“These circumstances are different,” Hongjoong ground out, keeping his voice solid in hopes of shutting down further resistance. “That man is dangerous, and I can’t have him anywhere else on this ship. The cell is the one place that I am confident he can’t find his way out of, and that is the only way I can be sure that all of you are safe. None of you will go down there, so none of you will get hurt. End of discussion.” 

“That is not the end!” Wooyoung snapped right back, the vein in his neck bulging. “You’re a lot of things, Hongjoong, and I believe that most of them are good, but I never knew you to be a liar. But you lied to me! You promised-” 

Hongjoong interrupted before Wooyoung could finish, raising his voice to match before he could restrain himself. “I promised nothing. I made you an assurance, and I have no choice but to go back on those words now. He’s an enemy, Wooyoung, and it would do you good to remember that.” 

Bristling with anger, Wooyoung jerked forward as if to escalate the fight from verbal to physical, but San managed to restrain the boy before he could get too far. “What I remember is how it feels to be down there. It’s inhuman, Hongjoong, and if you do this to him then I’m going to give you hell every goddamn step of the way. Mark my fucking words,” he spat, and Hongjoong took a step forward, getting right in Wooyoung’s face, an electric current of aggravation running over his skin in response to the provocation. 

“His crew is the one that stabbed Yeosang - remember that? Or when Mingi took three fucking bullets from those assholes? Who’s to say that guy isn’t the one who fired the fucking gun! Would you care this much about his treatment if you had emerged from the cell to find San bleeding out on the deck? I don’t fucking think so, Wooyoung.” 

Hongjoong hissed the last sentence before stepping away from Wooyoung, his head cloudy from the high tension. He made to go inside, casting one last glance at the prisoner still lying unconscious on the deck. He shook his head, spitting blood to the floorboards. “And if you care so much about our enemy over there, you can go put his shirt back on before the sun chars the skin right off his chest.”

All six members of his crew stared back at him, and he couldn’t take it anymore, stalking into the cabin before any other words could be said. He slammed the door shut behind himself, storming down the hall to the captain’s quarters, half inclined to never emerge again. Solitude seemed rather appealing at the moment, despite Wooyoung’s earlier protestations. 

There would be hell to pay for everything he had done and said, but for right now he couldn’t find it in himself to spare it more than a passing thought. Every single decision he made was for their benefit - it had been that way since the very beginning of their history. For Wooyoung to question him now… it hurt more than he wanted to admit, even if his reasons were valid. 

As far as Hongjoong was concerned, they could hate him as much as they wanted, as long as they were safe. He would rather deal with silent treatments and grudges and flurries of words that would be regretted later than the possibility of one of his crew members getting hurt by the prisoner’s hand because of his lack of foresight. 

They would come around to see that he had been right to protect them from the start - they always did. But until then, he would have to come to terms with the sparking hostility that was bound to grow and strain the ties that held them all together.

~

Tap, tap, tap.

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes, staring at Mingi’s fingers as the mechanic unconsciously tapped them against the dinner table. He knew Mingi didn’t handle tension well, but the sound was penetrating directly into his brain, the length of his fuse still short after the events of the morning. 

After spending all day in his quarters alone, Hongjoong had finally been able to let go of his burning anger. Now it remained at a simmer in the back of his mind, only brought to the forefront when he actively thought about the prisoner down in the cell, which was hard not to do. An enemy occupied his ship, and even though Hongjoong had wanted a hostage, the energy on the ship felt wrong with his presence on everyone’s mind. 

Despite all of the seats at the table being filled, no one had yet to speak, and Hongjoong raised his fork to his mouth as he watched Mingi’s fingers dance over the wooden tabletop. 

Tap, tap, tap.

“Will you stop?” San burst out, his voice unnecessarily loud in the silence. The tapping stopped instantly, and Mingi hid his hands under the table sheepishly. Hongjoong looked San’s way, and he saw that a blush was already covering the boy’s cheeks after his outburst. “I’m sorry, Mingi,” he apologized, his tone softer this time. “I didn’t mean to sound - well, mean. It’s just been a long day for all of us, and I kind of wish it would just end already.” 

He stabbed a piece of meat to punctuate his words, bottom lip jutting out subtly. Hongjoong felt the corners of his mouth lift - San had never been good at staying angry. Perhaps that was part of the reason why he and Wooyoung had been drawn to one another so quickly. Opposites attract and all that nonsense. 

Contrary to San, Wooyoung was fantastic at holding a grudge - and surprise, surprise, Hongjoong was the one on the receiving end of his cold shoulder at the moment. Since the beginning of dinner the two of them hadn’t even looked at each other, and Hongjoong felt too drained to initiate another conversation. Not to mention, he didn’t want to subject the rest of the crew to another argument so soon. Wooyoung would cool down eventually. 

The silence returned, only now it was even more uncomfortable, and Hongjoong could feel several different sets of eyes lingering between himself and Wooyoung. As their captain he knew that they were probably waiting for him to speak, but Hongjoong just allowed the silence to linger. The last thing he needed was to say something else that would set Wooyoung off all over again. 

Hongjoong loved Wooyoung unconditionally, but there were times when the two of them simply couldn’t stand each other. They both possessed strong tempers; Hongjoong didn’t take well to dissent when he was firm in a decision, while Wooyoung had a particularly inflamed sense of justice. Thankfully for everyone they usually agreed on things, but this was not one of those times. And when they fought, it affected the energy of the entire ship. 

Casting a subtle glance in Wooyoung’s direction, Hongjoong watched as he stabbed a piece of meat like it had personally offended him. In all likelihood, he was probably imagining the meat as some type of figurative voodoo doll of Hongjoong, and watching Wooyoung attack it with a knife was making him lose his appetite. 

“Um… I wanted to mention something, and I feel like this isn’t really a good time, but…” Yeosang trailed off, all of the eyes in the room turning to stare at him at once. He pursed his lips at the sudden attention, looking down at his plate. 

“I don’t think there’s going to be a ‘good time’ for a while, Yeosang. Just spit it out already,” Wooyoung grumbled, looking back to his plate as he sawed his knife back and forth into the meat, creating a mess of jagged edges and strange lines pointing out from the center. It took Hongjoong a few seconds to understand what he was seeing, but as soon as he figured it out he set down his fork and knife, only half listening as the others encouraged Yeosang to speak. 

He was sure of it now - the thick slab of steak on Wooyoung’s plate was serving as a Hongjoong stand-in. The lines were supposed to be arms and legs, and the ragged edge on top was supposed to be… his hair? That alone was incredibly offensive, almost more so than the carved figure itself, and Hongjoong resolutely looked away, not wanting to give Wooyoung any satisfaction. 

“What is it, Yeosang?” He asked, keeping his voice perfectly polite even as he watched Wooyoung pick up the knife again from the corner of his eye. 

Yeosang chewed his lower lip for a moment before speaking, his eyes trained on Hongjoong’s collar, clearly not wanting to look him in the eye. “I’m going to bring a brace and a sling down for the prisoner when he wakes up. I know you won’t want me to, but we won’t get any information out of him if he’s delirious with pain.” He spoke more firmly than Hongjoong had expected, as if he had rehearsed his words beforehand. Which, knowing Yeosang, he probably had. 

Still, that didn’t stop Hongjoong from tensing up, all else forgotten as he shook his head in unflinching disagreement. “You want to waste our supplies on him? Absolutely not, Yeosang. A broken arm won’t render him completely inept - he’ll survive.” 

“But Hongjoong, he was so beat up already. They probably didn’t treat him well, and, I don’t know - it just feels wrong to leave him down there without any way to set his bone into place. That could lead to a wealth of other medical problems.” And perhaps that was true, but Hongjoong didn’t think the man would be alive long enough to experience any of those repercussions. 

“He’s not an innocent man, Yeosang. On other ships, members of the crew do things to hurt each other all the time. Other pirates aren’t like us, okay? I don’t want any of you interacting with him, because he will no doubt be plotting ways to hurt us, to learn things and use them against us just like the last doctor we harbored on this ship. I won’t let that happen, but you have to listen to me. There is zero doubt that he has taken lives, tortured innocents, and probably done a thousand other terrible things. Don’t go soft on him - that’s exactly what he wants. You can’t be so trusting, alright?” 

Hongjoong spoke the words forcefully but not aggressively - he wanted them to understand that he was doing this for their safety. They hadn’t seen the things that he had, and while he was grateful for that, he didn’t want them getting hurt as a result of their own naivety. 

Mumbled agreements followed his orders, and Hongjoong nodded shortly, reaching for his glass of water. He raised it to his lips, in the process of taking a sip when he made the mistake of glancing back down at Wooyoung’s plate. While he had been talking, the boy had cut Steak-joong’s head off, decorating the area with the sauce he had made to go along with the meal. The sauce that was, of course, red - he had surely done that on purpose. 

He nearly choked on the water as he swallowed, coughing into his fist as he pushed his chair back, decidedly done with his food at that point. Excusing himself from the table, Hongjoong grabbed his plate to bring it over to the sink, catching one last glimpse of Wooyoung continuing to perform surgery on his dinner. 

Instead of heading straight to his quarters after exiting the cafeteria, Hongjoong turned the other way instead, heading for the last door before the exit - the cell room. Despite his hatred for the pirate held below, Hongjoong couldn’t resist the urge to peek in on him. He felt uneasy having the man on his ship, even though he knew he would likely still be unconscious. 

The first step squeaked beneath the toe of his boot, and Hongjoong winced as the sound broke through the otherwise silent room. Ducking his head as he descended the next few steps, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the slumped form of the unconscious pirate. He didn’t want anyone to know he was here, especially not the one occupying the cell. 

Now that the pirate was unable to talk back and ignite Hongjoong’s rage, he was able to take in the sight of the man more clearly. He appeared to be taller than Hongjoong but shorter than Yunho and Mingi, though Hongjoong had yet to see him not sprawled across the ground, so he could be wrong. 

Dark hair covered the upper half of his face, the ends uneven and choppy, as if they had been approached with some kind of dull blade not meant for the fine art of cutting hair. Hongjoong understood that - his own hair was admittedly choppy, though not as awfully cut as Wooyoung had made it seem on his steak figure. 

A straight nose and full lips were all Hongjoong could make out of the man’s features at the moment, but he could still feel the burn of his eyes from earlier, the strong resistance that he had found there. Something about this man made alarm bells sound in Hongjoong’s mind - something about him wasn’t right. He couldn’t place what it was, exactly, but just watching him now made his skin crawl. 

Here he sat, the captain of this ship taking stock of his prisoner, and yet he had the eerie feeling that he didn’t hold all of the cards. In every visible way, Hongjoong was in control: he had broken the man’s arm and shoved him in a cell that he couldn’t escape from. So why did he feel so uneasy? 

Hongjoong reached down into his pocket and felt the cold, unrelenting metal of the key that he always kept on his person. The prisoner would surely try to appeal to his crew - his family - in efforts to be freed, but despite the current tensions, his crew was loyal to him and him only. They would never be so easily swayed, no matter how pitiful the man made himself seem. 

Comforted by the thought, Hongjoong cast one final look at the crumpled form in the cell before vacating the room once more, dreading the days to come before the others came around.

Chapter Text

Upon awakening the next morning, Hongjoong enjoyed a few blessed moments of peace before all of the events of the day before came rushing back. He sat up straight in bed, his heart palpitating in his chest for what felt like ages but must have only been a second or two, in reality. Despite knowing that the prisoner was locked up below deck, the irrational fear that the man had done something to his crew thrummed just beneath his skin, his entire body consumed by a restless energy. 

Quickly stepping out of bed, Hongjoong pulled on a fresh set of clothes and exited his private quarters, his steps frantic as he followed the muted sound of voices carrying down the hall. Logically, he knew that if anything had happened one of his crew would have notified him immediately, but he still needed to see them. Just to be sure that they hadn’t disobeyed his orders and gotten themselves hurt. 

Bursting through the door to the kitchen, Hongjoong scanned over the room before allowing his urgency to dissipate. All six of the members of his crew were present in the room, Wooyoung and San standing over by the kitchen while the rest sat lazily around the table, seemingly still half asleep. 

The smell of breakfast saturated the air, and Hongjoong felt his stomach rumble. He hadn’t finished his dinner the night before, but it seemed his appetite had returned with a vengeance, and he slid into the seat next to Jongho with a belated yawn. Casual conversation filled Hongjoong’s ears, and he listened without contributing, eyeing the two crew members standing close together in the kitchen. 

San and Wooyoung were always attached at the hip - that was nothing new, and San often lingered around the kitchen as Wooyoung cooked, keeping him company. Today, though, Hongjoong found their closeness to be suspicious, almost conspiratorial - perhaps he was just being paranoid after his argument with Wooyoung the day before, but he had the inkling feeling that they were plotting something. He made a mental note to keep an eye on their whereabouts. 

“Hey, Hongjoong. Yunho and I wanted to talk to you about something,” Jongho said from beside him, and Hongjoong redirected his gaze away from the kitchen. Jongho’s brows were raised in a silent question, and Hongjoong nodded once, indicating for the boy to continue. 

Pressing his lips together, Jongho cast a glance sideways at Yunho, his expression resigned as he fiddled with the rusted watch on his wrist. It had been a gift from Yeosang several years ago after a stop at a particularly affluent port, and he still never took it off despite the way the metal had tarnished from his time at sea. The hands of the clock had completely stopped functioning, but telling the time had never been Jongho’s reason for wearing it in the first place. 

“The two of us will interrogate the prisoner as you asked of us yesterday, but… well, we wanted to try to get our answers without immediately turning to violence, at least at first. I know that we need information as soon as possible, but it feels productive to at least try our hand at persuasion before we hurt him and lose any chance of easy cooperation.” Jongho explained himself well, but Hongjoong had already begun to shake his head, his hand tensing against the surface of the table. 

“It won’t work, Jongho. The only thing that will come of it is more time lost, which we simply cannot afford. I believed you two to be capable of this task, but if you can’t suck it up and question him properly then I will do it myself.” Hongjoong clenched his jaw, feeling the strain in his teeth. Why was it that his crew was so dead set on questioning his every order when they were typically trusting to a fault?

Before he could continue, Yunho interjected, his tone cautious like he was placating some kind of temperamental beast. “If it doesn’t work, then we will switch to other methods. But please, Hongjoong, just give us some time to try this ourselves. You’ve already broken the man’s arm, so if he’s going to cooperate for anyone it certainly won’t be you.” 

Yunho winced after speaking the words aloud, realizing how frank they sounded. “I just mean that he’s already been hurt by you, and it didn’t seem to make him any more willing to oblige. Let us try this a different way, before his perception of us is tainted as well, alright?” The skin between his brows had furrowed, lips parted as he waited for Hongjoong’s response, the others listening in to the conversation as well. 

As determined as Yunho seemed, Hongjoong knew that his idea would never come to fruition. He had seen it in the prisoner’s eyes, his defiance unyielding like the sea. And yet, he felt like he was lingering on the edge of a precipice, like this decision could keep the ship's balance intact for a little while longer.

He still possessed most of his self control that morning, unlike when he had driven a divide between himself and Wooyoung - and by extension, San - the day before, and he didn’t want another argument so soon. The current tension was already bad enough. “Fine,” he agreed, though he had to force the word through gritted teeth. “I will give you one week. One week, and then I will step in to make up for lost time. Understand?” 

To their credit, Jongho and Yunho didn’t attempt to further alter the terms. They both agreed quickly, desperate to move on as Wooyoung and San brought breakfast over to the table, the cook placing Hongjoong’s plate on the table without so much as a glance. 

~

The sun had just begun to sink in the sky when Yunho and Jongho emerged onto the deck where the rest of them had congregated, and Hongjoong didn’t need to speak a word to see the failure written on their faces. Despite Hongjoong’s attempts to stop him, Yeosang had brought a brace and sling to the prisoner around midday after the man’s cry of pain had carried up to the cabin, making it clear that he was awake. Jongho and Yunho had gone down to interrogate shortly after, and though they hadn’t been down there long, they were back already. Hongjoong couldn’t say he was surprised. 

He sat up from where he had been leaning against a large barrel, rolling up the battered map he had been studying while waiting for their return. Wooyoung and San had been nagging Yeosang at the helm since the navigator had taken his place there, and Mingi was nailing a loose plank back into place, but they all perked up as well at the sight of their other two crew members. 

Hongjoong knew they were headed his way, so he didn’t bother to stand, instead patting the deck beside him so they would join him. Truth be told, Hongjoong was incredibly sore from the battle, and he would much rather be sitting right now. “Tell me what happened,” he said as soon as Yunho and Jongho lowered themselves to the floor, and the two of them shared a glance, their expressions wary. 

“Well,” Yunho began, fiddling with the cuff of his right sleeve, “we asked him a lot of questions. We tried to first ask for his name, but when he wouldn’t give us that we asked about his crew and their plans. All he did was just - just stare at us. Like we were annoying him by even being there.” 

“I thought after how afraid he seemed yesterday that he would want to answer us and avoid having to do things the hard way, but he didn’t so much as twitch the entire time we were down there. He just sat there, like he wasn’t even hearing anything we were asking him,” Jongho further clarified, and Hongjoong shook his head, his jaw tight. 

He wasn’t surprised whatsoever by the news, for he had seen it coming, but it reminded him of how defiant the prisoner had been once he had gotten over his initial fear. “It’s not going to be easy,” he gritted out, looking between the two members of his crew. Yunho and Jongho had always been the ones he could trust to understand the need for ruthlessness when necessary, to place the benefit of the crew over personal feelings, and he could see in their faces that they were unsure of how to proceed. 

“There’s something about that man that feels off, and it does not surprise me that he didn’t say a word to either of you. Tell me something - did he even use the supplies that Yeosang brought down for him?” Hongjoong had speculated over that question while studying his map, doubting that the prisoner would use anything given to him by their crew, a suspicion that was confirmed by twin shakes of the head. 

He sighed, pressing his lips together as he stashed his rolled up map in the front pocket of his trousers, getting to his feet despite the protest of his sore muscles. “I had a feeling. He’s going to make this as hard as possible - we managed to pick one of the most stubborn pirates on that ship, despite the way he looks.” 

Hongjoong hated his next thought, dismissing it as soon as it crossed his mind. If he had been in the same situation, taken hostage by a rival crew, Hongjoong would have acted the exact same way, goading the captain and refusing to even acknowledge the crew and their attempts at aid. “He’s loyal to a fucking fault,” he spat, running a hand through his ragged bangs as they blew into his eyes, his pinky finger catching for a moment in one of the thin braids Yeosang liked to weave through his hair when he was bored. 

Yunho and Jongho watched him as he paced beside the railing, itching to get down there and show the bastard what real suffering was. His irritation rose as he imagined the man’s amusement at their benign questioning - he likely suspected that the threats had been a bluff, that all of them but the captain were too weak to turn to violence. 

Weak. The word made Hongjoong’s stomach twist, hatred for the prisoner swelling as his mind spiraled, pinning assumptions onto him that had no real confirmation. He could never know what the man had truly been thinking, but Hongjoong had known men like him before - he could feel that his judgement was correct. 

Mentally, he cursed himself for agreeing to give Yunho and Jongho a week to interrogate on their own. He had known from the beginning that it would never work, but now he was entirely certain, and keeping tensions low was no longer his top priority as he grew increasingly more agitated. 

He whirled on the two of them, and he could feel the escalation hanging in the air around them like a tangible force. “The two of you need to be more forceful next time - asking nicely was never going to work and we all fucking knew it.” His voice came out angrier than he had intended, like all of his feelings towards the prisoner were instead being redirected onto the two crew members sitting before him. 

Yunho and Jongho shared another look, this one full of dread. “Hongjoong, you gave us time to do it our way-” Yunho tried to placate, always taking the lead in order to protect Jongho from Hongjoong’s volatile temper, which only served to make him feel more disconnected from himself. He wasn’t normally like this - something about this man made Hongjoong so angry, so willing to say things that he didn’t even mean.

“And I never should have done it! Time is not on our side here, don’t you understand that? Somehow, they were able to ambush us not long after our last battle, and I’d bet my ship that they’re going to come back for more as soon as they can. We need this information as soon as we can possibly get it out of him, and you’re just wasting time that we don’t have! Force is the only way this will work, otherwise we should have never brought him here.” 

Hongjoong’s chest was heaving by the time he was finished, and he had no time to process the words that had left his own mouth before Yunho was getting to his feet as well, his expression so different from his usual joviality. “I’m not going to hurt someone if it’s not necessary, Hongjoong. I don’t enjoy being the reason for someone else’s pain, and I never thought that you did either, but after that show on the deck yesterday I’m not so sure.” 

His voice was cold, colder than Hongjoong had ever heard it, and the words felt like a physical slap. All he could do was stand in place for a moment, staring at Yunho in a brief lapse of mind-clearing shock. Yunho, his first mate, the one who he had always been able to confide in, was staring at him like something had changed between them. Like he wasn’t sure who Hongjoong was anymore, and Hongjoong would be lying if he said that it didn’t hurt worse than the aching of his physical body. 

“Let’s go, Jongho,” Yunho muttered, extending a hand to the weapons master. Jongho spared a quick glance at Hongjoong before taking it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Hongjoong hated what he saw in that glance - mostly disapproval, but a shred of fear glinted in the sunlight before he turned away, the two of them making their way back into the cabin. Mingi dropped his tools and hurried after them a moment later, clearly not wanting to linger. 

Hongjoong bit hard on his lower lip, the salty taste of blood hitting his tongue. What was he doing - these people were his crew, the ones who he would do anything for. All of his anger stemmed from his desire to keep them safe, his fear of losing them, and yet he seemed to be accomplishing that entirely on his own. These were the people he would kill for, had killed for countless times, and would continue to do so for as long as they sailed these seas. 

Maturity aside, Jongho was still the youngest of their number, and Hongjoong had scared him. Disgust washed over him now, and he stared at the closed cabin door, the deck clouded in gloomy silence. He looked back towards the helm, knowing their voices had carried over to the others and already dreading being faced with their input. 

As expected, the three pirates by the ship’s wheel were already staring in his direction, the force of their animosity reaching Hongjoong from where he stood halfway across the deck. He sighed, running a hand over his face, wishing he could just keep his damn mouth shut. 

Hongjoong had never been good at processing his feelings - he always needed time to think things through, to really understand how he felt and why. But he didn’t always have that time, and so instead he acted rashly, so desperate to keep his feelings close to his chest that he lashed out at the people around him, regardless of how much he cared for them. He knew this about himself, but in the moment it didn’t matter, because nothing mattered to him except hiding his vulnerability. 

None of the members of his crew truly understood these truths about him, though, simply because Hongjoong refused to let anyone in. He had comforted all six of them through their most painful moments, had heard the truths of their pasts that had led them to his ship, but he could never bring himself to return the favor and tell them all of the things he kept hidden. 

And so, instead of understanding why he was being so self destructive, they were instead staring at him in disbelief. Even with the distance separating them, Hongjoong could see the way Wooyoung’s eyes flashed, the rigidity of Yeosang’s frame, San wringing his hands nervously. Their disapproval manifested in different ways, none of which were any easier to handle than the others, all hitting Hongjoong like a blow to the chest. 

“Why are you being like this?” Wooyoung asked, his voice cleaving through the silence, ringing like alarm bells in Hongjoong’s ears. He wasn’t yelling like yesterday, but his words were stony, his cheeks bitten red by the wind. He began to close the distance between them, walking over to Hongjoong with purpose, his canvas shoes slapping against the deck. San and Yeosang trailed after him, though they didn’t appear nearly as eager for another fight. 

Hongjoong couldn’t bring himself to respond, his mind at war with itself as the wind picked up around the ship, beginning to whip at his clothes. A chill ran over his skin, and he crossed his arms over his chest as Wooyoung approached. “I don’t understand, Hongjoong. What is going on with you? You’re not like this, not to us - never to us. I get it, you and I have our arguments sometimes, but Yunho? Jongho? What the fuck are you doing?” He berated, though his expression wasn’t completely hardened - Hongjoong could see the confusion there, the desire to understand. 

But Hongjoong had never been good at explaining his feelings, and the words that came tumbling out of his mouth were not the ones he wanted to say. “I’m doing what needs to be done to keep you all safe. I don’t understand why you are all so adamant that he should not be treated like what he is - a prisoner, and more importantly, an enemy. I won’t apologize on behalf of your blindness.” 

And he did mean his words - he did believe that he was doing the right thing to keep them safe, because no one else seemed to understand how much of a threat the prisoner was. What he didn’t mean was the way he said it, the bite to his words, the challenging glare he fixed on Wooyoung. 

Hongjoong was nothing if not self-destructive. 

“You don’t understand? Well, let me lay it out for you then,” Wooyoung replied, raising a brow, his jaw visibly tense. “The problem is that he is defenseless, locked behind bars like he’s not even human. He’s still a person, Hongjoong - even if he’s a horrible one, at least let him make that clear before you start breaking his bones. Of course he’s not going to make it easy, because the situation already seems hopeless to him. If he thinks he’s going to die regardless, why give us what we want?” 

Wooyoung took a large breath of air before continuing to speak, the words shooting from his tongue like darts, embedding in Hongjoong’s carefully constructed armor. “He looked so scared when he was brought onto this ship, he was already beaten half to death, and you broke his arm and made everything even worse! I don’t blame Yunho and Jongho for trying to go about things differently first, and maybe it would have worked if you hadn’t gone and screwed it all up!” 

His voice had gradually begun to raise, the wind snatching his words as soon as they were spoken, carrying them out towards the sea. Wooyoung’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he looked just as indignant as he had the day before. 

Before Hongjoong could try to retaliate, Wooyoung cut him off, shaking his head. “No, I don’t care what you have to say. You’ve already said more than enough. I told you that if you put him down there, I wasn’t going to make it easy for you - did you think I was bluffing? What you’re doing is cruel, and the man I know doesn’t act like this.” 

Though he tried to keep his expression stony, Hongjoong knew Wooyoung far too well. He could see the cracks beginning to splinter his resolve, the way his fingers trembled at his sides. Small tells, but Hongjoong had spent years observing the boy who stood across from him. Talking to Hongjoong like this was hurting him, for Wooyoung was just as sensitive as he was feisty. 

“I have done plenty of terrible things, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong managed to say before he could be cut off again. “Just because you don’t see them doesn’t mean they don’t happen.” The words were brimming with bitterness, and Hongjoong could feel his face beginning to grow hot. 

“It’s not the same.” A new voice - Yeosang. The navigator so rarely got involved in arguments like this, and he wasn’t looking at either of them, his eyes firmly fixed upon the planks of wood under his feet. “Battles are different - those people are attacking us, relinquishing any right to civility. You can be ruthless then, yes, but the reason why we’re all so shaken is because of how… wrong it feels, to hurt someone so defenseless.” 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly, trying to dial back his anger to avoid yelling at yet another member of his crew. “He’s only defenseless because that’s the only way to ensure he can’t do anything to hurt any of you. What do you want me to do, give him a sword and cut him down in battle? He’s an enemy - if he weren’t defenseless, he would surely try to kill us all!” 

It all seemed so clear to him, his mind so clouded by his desire for vengeance, that he hadn’t even considered San’s next words until they were blowing into him with the force of the wind. “But Hongjoong, how can you be so sure? They didn’t grab him from the fight and pull his shirt over his head - they found him below deck. He wasn’t fighting. What if he isn’t dangerous at all?” 

They all stared at him, and Hongjoong felt his body still for a moment, floundering for an explanation. Several beats of silence passed before Wooyoung spoke again, taking a step towards the cabin. “Consider that maybe we aren’t all just blind.” He threw Hongjoong’s earlier insult back in his face, the word spat from his tongue like he couldn’t stand to form it at all. “Maybe you’re the one who isn’t seeing things clearly.” 

He took a few more steps, the wind carrying his voice back for Hongjoong to hear. “I’m going to start making dinner, and I’m bringing him a portion as well. Until he gives me reason to treat him otherwise, I will be treating him like a human being. I know that’s a difficult concept for you to understand.” 

With that, he stalked his way back to the cabin door, Yeosang and San following after him a beat later, their eyes sweeping over Hongjoong’s form as they passed him by. Hongjoong remained standing there, staring at the place where his three friends had been standing, his body jolting with the sound of the wind slamming the cabin door shut. 

He stood there until the tip of his nose turned to ice, goosebumps crawling all over his skin, his teeth beginning to clack together. The cold made him feel numb, and he leaned into it, allowing it to extinguish the fire that had exacerbated his anger. 

Out here in the cold, he felt nothing but lonely. He chose to believe that they were wrong about the prisoner, that he had been below deck simply because he was injured, or because he had stepped out of line. So many potential explanations could explain away that detail, but it still nagged at his mind, even when his stomach rumbled and he went inside for dinner.

~

Jongho and Yunho’s next interrogation attempt the following day didn’t seem to have any better results, and Hongjoong tried his best to keep his displeasure at bay when he spoke to them, but he knew that he did a poor job of it. They had both seemed more timid than normal when talking to him, and he hated how tense the air seemed to turn whenever he ran into any of his crew - his friends. 

He felt antsy with desperation to interrogate the prisoner for himself, and he cursed himself constantly for agreeing to wait an entire week. All he could think about was the man in the cell, and the inevitable attack that would be coming their way. They hadn’t sunk the rival ship, after all - they had stopped attacking, but Hongjoong believed they had done it in order to regroup, to plan their next attack. 

They would be coming, and all of the answers he needed were right below his feet, only he wasn’t allowed to do whatever necessary to get them. His mind spun with thoughts of all the terrible things that could happen if they were ambushed again, all of the things he could prevent by breaking his word. But if he broke his word, he might just break his trust with his crew as well, and he wasn’t ready to sacrifice that. 

Perhaps it was cowardly, and he weighed the options constantly as he sat at the dinner table that night, considering just how far he could stand to push his crew away in order to protect them. He had been sitting there for hours, mulling over maps with Yeosang for a brief while and then just letting his mind wander, his shoulders slumping with the weight of all of the decisions he wasn’t ready to make. No matter what he did, he would be making some kind of mistake, putting something at risk. 

Hongjoong looked up as a steaming bowl was set down in front of him, the metal clanging hollowly against the wooden table. To his surprise, Wooyoung was actually looking at him, and his expression wasn’t irate. He looked somewhat pleased, and Hongjoong awkwardly returned his smile, wondering if this was some kind of test. 

“I made soup,” he informed, and sure enough, the bowl was full of broth, swimming vegetables, and chunks of meat. His stomach rumbled at the sight, but he still raised a brow in the boy’s direction. 

“You never make soup,” he deadpanned, accepting a spoon from Wooyoung as well, the steam filling his nose and saliva pooling under his tongue. 

Wooyoung clucked his tongue, pushing off from the table to head back over to the stove. “Well, I don’t really like soup, to be honest, and you know that I only ever cook things that I like. That’s the whole benefit of being the cook to begin with. I’m making it because of the pirate downstairs - I think he might be sick. He didn’t look well when I brought him breakfast this morning, and I think he threw up his dinner from last night.” 

The boy made a face at the mention of vomit, but Hongjoong was hardly paying attention by that point, staring down into the steaming bowl before him. None of the others were currently present - San had been keeping Wooyoung company while he cooked, but now he was retrieving the others, leaving Wooyoung and Hongjoong alone. 

“Wooyoung.” Hongjoong’s tone was much more gruff this time, and Wooyoung whirled around, facing the table. “Please, Wooyoung - stop doing this. I know you want to spite me for putting him down there, but this is ridiculous - you don’t even make soup when one of us is sick. You’re going to get hurt.” 

After spending so much time thinking everything over, Hongjoong was able to express himself more calmly this time, and he could see Wooyoung relax. He had probably been bracing himself to be on the receiving end of Hongjoong’s anger for a third time in three days, and his relief was obvious. Argumentative as he could be, Wooyoung was a sensitive soul, deep down. He was a lover, not a fighter, and he gave Hongjoong a genuine smile for the first time in days despite the scolding nature of his words. 

“He hasn’t even said anything to me, Hongjoong. All I did was make him dinner - it doesn’t have to be a big deal, okay? He looked sad, and sick, and maybe a nice meal will make him more likely to give Yunho and Jongho answers tomorrow. Not everything is done out of spite. Well, some of it is - I will willingly admit that - but I didn’t make him soup to spite you, Hongjoong. I made him soup to make him feel better.”

As terribly as Hongjoong wanted to argue and press the point further, he just forced a sigh from his lips, trying to dispel his negative feelings along with it. Some arguments just weren’t worth it, and though that typically didn’t stop him, he was too exhausted to engage in this one. Plus, soup sounded nice after a long day, as long as he tried to ignore the real reason why it had been made. 

“Don’t give him any utensils,” Hongjoong reminded as he picked up his own spoon, slurping the broth and feeling it burn his tongue. He coughed into his fist, the spoon clattering to the table as he reached for his water, taking several deep gulps. Wooyoung’s laughter filled his ears, and Hongjoong’s cheeks burned, his taste buds rendered useless now. A shame, for that one spoonful had tasted delicious. “They can be used as weapons,” he grumbled, wiping the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin

Wooyoung just cackled louder, only acknowledging Hongjoong’s words when he was met with a glare. “Okay, okay!” He placated, arms raised, a towel slung over his shoulder. Satisfied, Hongjoong carefully took another sip of his soup, making sure to blow on it first. 

After dinner, Hongjoong took it upon himself to wash the dishes, figuring it was the least he could do to try and make amends with his crew. The bowls were easy to clean, and he let his mind wander as the water ran over his hands, turning his skin soft and wrinkly despite the thick calluses that covered his palms. 

He stacked the bowls and placed them in a storage bin before moving on to the spoons, cleaning them one by one and lining them up on the counter beside the sink. There should have been seven of them, one for each member of the crew who had eaten dinner at the table and left their dishes, but as he wiped down the last one he realized that it was only the sixth. 

Setting it down beside the five others, he counted over them again to make sure, though he already knew what must have happened, his former calm entirely gone. Despite Wooyoung’s earlier assurance, he must have brought a spoon down for the prisoner. 

It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but to Hongjoong it was. Wooyoung had openly lied to him, sneaking behind his back to go against his orders, all while being so cheery to his face. He felt betrayed, like Wooyoung had chosen the prisoner in the cell over his own captain, and before he knew what he was doing he was swiping all of the spoons off the counter in his anger. 

They clattered to the floor, the noise resonating through the otherwise empty room. He fisted his hands in his hair, refusing to acknowledge the next thought that crossed his mind. That he had no right to feel betrayed, because had he not done the exact same thing to Wooyoung by using the cell in the first place? 

He had made an assurance and taken it away, but now that the same had been done to him, he felt the control begin to slip through his fingers. All over something as insignificant as a spoon - it had undoubtedly felt far more jarring for Wooyoung when the cell had been the object of betrayal. 

Self hatred and anger battled for dominance as Hongjoong stormed from the kitchen, heading straight for his quarters without sparing a glance at the others congregated in the hall waiting to use the bathroom before bed. His body shook with unresolved feelings, and when he shut the door to his room he stood there for a long while, bottling it all up instead of facing it. He didn’t want to face any of it. 

~

Hours later, he reemerged from his quarters, unable to fall asleep. That wasn’t unusual for Hongjoong, and often he went out to the deck to look up at the stars, or sat in the kitchen and pondered on their next plans until he felt exhaustion set in. However, now he was in a near constant state of exhaustion, and none of those things seemed to work very well anymore. Still, it was better than sitting in his cramped room, so he headed down the hallway anyway. 

His steps came to a stop outside of the crew quarters, and he reached out a gentle hand to grasp the doorknob, turning it softly so as to not wake up his crew sleeping inside. Pushing the door open a crack, Hongjoong peered inside, his eyes scanning over the sleeping bodies of his friends. 

He did this most nights, just checking on them to make sure they were okay, though they almost always were. In the beginning, he had done it out of fear that something would happen to them, that one night they would just be gone and he would be all alone again. Now, though, he just liked to see them all sound asleep, to know that they were safely wrapped in dreams. It made his heart feel warm to see them all so vulnerable, to know they felt comfortable on his ship. 

Tonight, that wasn’t the case for all of them, as one figure was sitting up in his bunk, his silhouette a shadow amidst the dark room. Hongjoong knew it was Yunho because he knew which bunk belonged to his first mate, and he could feel Yunho’s eyes watching him without even being able to see his face

Hongjoong made a motion with his hand to beckon his friend out into the hallway, keeping his mouth shut so he wouldn’t risk waking the others. The bed squeaked as Yunho shifted and began to climb down from the top bunk, careful not to disturb San on the one beneath him, and Hongjoong backed into the hallway to allow him through. 

Closing the door behind him, Yunho smoothed a hand through his hair, shadowy half moons visible beneath his eyes now that he had stepped into the lit hallway. “Can’t sleep?” Hongjoong asked, keeping his voice low, and Yunho shook his head. He sighed softly, his mouth tight at the corners, unusually tense. “What’s on your mind?” 

“I’ve just been thinking about him. The prisoner. He’s down there alone, he has to sleep on the cell floor, and Wooyoung said that he’s not even digesting the food we give him very well… I just feel bad for him. That’s what it is, the feeling that’s nagging me, but I feel like I can’t talk to you about it even though I normally can tell you anything because I know you’ll just give me shit for it. I’m so tired of it, Hongjoong, and it’s been two days. I want to be able to confide in you but I feel like I can’t.” 

Hongjoong bit his lower lip as he listened to Yunho speak, voice raw and exhaustion weighing down each word. His first mate was normally so carefree that hearing him speak like this was concerning, and Hongjoong quickly offered up the easiest solution to the problem. “Yunho, you don’t need to follow through with the deal we made. I can take over from now on, and you won’t have to go down there and see him anymore if it’s making you feel this way. It would be more efficient for all of us.” 

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Yunho’s neck whipped towards Hongjoong so fast that he nearly felt secondhand whiplash. “Can you just stop? All you care about is getting down there and beating that man to a pulp for your own satisfaction - that’s the last thing I want. You’re not even listening to me.” He turned away, making to continue down the hallway, but Hongjoong grabbed his wrist and turned him back around. 

“I am listening! But being around him is clearly having a negative effect on you, so all I’m suggesting is that you let me-” 

“Let go of me!” Yunho raised his voice louder this time, clearly fed up as he ripped his arm from Hongjoong’s grip, holding it close to his chest. “You think that you would be able to waltz down there and get your answers, but it would never work, okay? I know you think I’m an idiot for trying to go about this without violence, but you broke his fucking arm and it made him more defiant. I know I can get through to him, but I can’t do it with you constantly at my throat!”

Their voices were growing louder now, and Hongjoong followed Yunho as he again tried to escape down the hallway, his temper flaring. “You don’t understand ruthlessness like I do,” Hongjoong growled, a pace behind Yunho. Curse him and his ridiculously long legs. “I would do a lot more than break his arm to get information out of him. I would be able to make him talk, to get the answers we need. You act like I would be doing it for no reason - I want to keep you all safe. That is why I care about this so much.” 

Yunho whirled around again, now right outside of the door that led down to the prisoner’s cell, and the proximity to the enemy they were discussing only served to make Hongjoong feel even more irrational. “Hongjoong, you haven’t seen it, okay? Questioning is getting us nowhere, he hasn’t said a single word to either of us! And I heard from San that he doesn’t acknowledge them at all either. And to be honest, I can’t blame him! He’s been beaten within an inch of his life and thrown in a cell, why on earth would he give us what we want?”

“Yunho, are you doubting my ability to handle a prisoner? Especially one as weak as him?” Hongjoong questioned, for he couldn’t understand why Yunho was so insistent that his method of interrogation would work. “ It is only out of my respect and trust towards you that I haven’t taken this into my own hands yet. I granted you time to get the information out of him by your own methods before I step in, but it is clear you are making no progress. This situation becomes more dire each day, and it is for the safety of this crew that we need to know their next moves.” 

He had tried so hard to take a step back and let his first mate go about things his way first, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. Yunho seemed to realize that Hongjoong was at his breaking point, for his next words weren’t as hostile. “Yes I know that, but please just let me keep trying. It’s only been two days, you gave me a week. I know we can get him to talk, but all I’m saying is that the way you began things has made this incredibly hard.” 

Hongjoong bristled at the accusation, and Yunho noticed the reaction, his eyes open wide in disbelief. “You broke his damn arm, Hongjoong! Just because he insulted you, which I admit was stupid but he was terrified and you should’ve handled it better!” His tone was reverting back to anger, and Hongjoong knew he needed to put an end to this argument before it escalated even further. 

Taking a step closer to Yunho, Hongjoong had to slightly crane his neck to look him in the eye, though he knew it didn’t take away from the portrait of rage he had become. “Don’t tell me how I should handle things, Yunho,” he gritted out. “He was their doctor, for fuck’s sake. He should be easy to crack, he’s likely not experienced in any of this! So do your damn job because if you can’t get that weak piece of shit to give you the answers we need, then I’m going to start to doubt if you are worthy of your position. Perhaps one of the others would be better suited to the role of first mate.”

Before he could take back the words, Hongjoong was spinning on his heel and storming back down the hall, all thoughts of going out to the deck completely forgotten. 

~

The next few days passed in a similar fashion, and Hongjoong was now hardly speaking to the rest of his crew at all, beyond the necessary conversations. Normally so alight with laughter and playful chatter, the ship was now more silent than it had been in years. It reminded Hongjoong of when he had first traded the ship from his father’s navy for this one, offering positions to homeless men until he could build a crew of his own.

Leaving the cafeteria, Hongjoong headed out towards the deck in hopes to find Yeosang there. A storm had blown in, and he had spent the morning pouring over maps in the cafeteria, trying to figure out the best way to avoid the roughest seas. 

Before he could make it to the cabin door, the door to the prisoner’s cell room opened with a whine, Wooyoung and San stepping out into the hall. They were directly blocking Hongjoong’s path, so he came to a stop, several rolled up maps held to his chest. Normally he would have just skirted around the two of them and continued on his way outside, but he stayed in place when he saw the heaviness that seemed to weigh on their shoulders, the soft sound of their voices. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Hongjoong asked, and only then did they both raise their heads to look at him, clearly not aware that he had been standing there. His next words died on the tip of his tongue as soon as he saw the tear tracks on Wooyoung’s face catch in the light, the pink tinge to his cheeks. He could feel his expression shift from curious to murderous, and his blood came to a rapid boil beneath his skin, urging him forward as he set his sights on the door leading down to the cell. 

He only took a few steps before San was blocking his path, bracing his hands against Hongjoong’s shoulders to keep him away. “No, Hongjoong - it’s not what you think,” he tried to explain, but Hongjoong brushed his hands away, baring his teeth at the thought of the prisoner saying something to make Wooyoung cry. 

“I’ll fucking kill him,” he growled, feeling a set of smaller hands wrap around his wrist and pull him back. Wooyoung’s fingertips were cold, and they sent a chill up Hongjoong’s skin, a stark contrast to the burning fire that raged deep in his bones. 

“Hongjoong, stop - listen, he didn’t do anything to me. He didn’t do anything, alright?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but Hongjoong could hear the way it trembled, a fresh tear spilling over his cheek. 

Realizing that they weren’t going to let him go, Hongjoong stopped trying to reach the door, instead turning to face the two of them. They both looked at him with undisguised grief weighing on their features, and Hongjoong forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to push his rage down to at least hear from them what had happened. All he could picture was the prisoner hurling horrible words at them, making them feel small, and he had to forcibly squash the thought in order to maintain his fracturing composure. 

“What did he do to you?” Hongjoong ground out the question through gritted teeth, turning his wrist in Wooyoung’s grip to grasp at the boy’s arm, pulling him closer and scanning over his face, making sure that he hadn’t been hurt. Wooyoung’s eyes were glossy, silver pools lining his lashes, and he shook his head but allowed Hongjoong to look him over anyway. 

“He didn’t do anything, I already told you that,” Wooyoung responded, but there wasn’t any bite to his words this time, his tone barely louder than a whisper. Another tear spilled free, and Hongjoong raised his free hand, collecting the droplet of moisture with the pad of his thumb. Wooyoung’s cheek was hot to the touch, and his heart ached when he sniffled, staring up into Hongjoong’s face as if begging him to understand. 

Hongjoong still wanted to go down to the cell and show the prisoner exactly what happened to people who made Wooyoung cry, but he restrained himself for the sake of the boy in front of him. “But you’re crying,” Hongjoong protested, his voice still gruff. “Whatever happened down there, he made you cry.” 

Shaking his head, Wooyoung squeezed Hongjoong’s hand before pulling away, glancing towards where San stood just behind his shoulder. “Listen, it’s not - it’s not my place to tell you what happened, but if anyone should be crying, it’s that man down there. Nothing happened to me, he hasn’t ever spoken a word to me, I just-” Wooyoung’s voice broke, and he raised a hand to wipe his own tears, his sleeve bunched in his fist. 

With a shuddering breath, he continued. “I just feel awful about how we’re treating him. He shouldn’t be down there - I’m more sure of that than ever, now. No one should have to sit in their own filth like that, completely isolated except for our short trips down there. Hongjoong, he set his own arm, but I know it’s still causing him pain. I can see it in his face - he’s in so much pain, and I don’t think he even knows it. He seems like he’s just… resigned to what we’re doing, and it’s not right.” 

Hongjoong sighed, not prepared to have this conversation yet again, but Wooyoung wasn’t finished yet. “That man is in terrible pain, in ways I don’t think any of us understand, and you still want to force him to bear even more. I don’t want to fight with you, Hongjoong, but I will if I have to. He’s been through enough - don’t you hurt him.” 

Strength had come back to his voice now, and he leveled Hongjoong with a different stare - not one of anger, but one full of challenge. Hongjoong stared right back, rising to the challenge easily. “I will do what needs to be done to get the information I need to keep you all safe. I don’t want to keep going over this with you - you can’t change my mind about this. Or do you not care about keeping our crew safe from harm?” 

It was a low blow, because Hongjoong knew that Wooyoung feared for the safety of the crew every time he was forced to wait out a battle, but the boy just didn’t seem to understand that not everything could always work out perfectly. Sometimes blood needed to be shed, and this was one of those times. 

“Hongjoong…” San warned, taking a step forward as if to get between the two of them. San hated when they fought, and he normally did his best to stay out of it, but Hongjoong could hear the disapproval in his voice. If forced to take sides, it would always be Wooyoung for San - they all understood that, though it was clear he wanted to avoid that degree of escalation. 

“Don’t you dare,” Wooyoung murmured. “Don’t you dare say that, because you know how much I care. But I also can’t just stand by and let you hurt that man - not after what I saw today. He’s been hurt enough, and if you go down there and hurt him like you did before, you’re going to hurt me too. Ask yourself if it is truly worth doing all of this to protect us if, in the end, you lose me anyway because of the things you did.” 

Wooyoung stepped away from Hongjoong once he was finished speaking, grasping San’s sleeve to pull him away as well, the two of them heading down deeper into the hallway before disappearing from view. Instead of talking to Yeosang like he had intended, Hongjoong instead stormed back to his quarters yet again, slamming the door loud enough for Wooyoung and San to hopefully hear. 

~

For the first time in days, Hongjoong woke up in a good mood the next morning. He had spent the night before pacing around his quarters, trying and utterly failing to process his feelings, his adrenaline pumping even hours after his interaction with Wooyoung and San. 

Wooyoung’s words had scared him - he couldn’t deny that, and he had nearly lost his carefully maintained grip on his emotions upon his return to his room, even though he knew the words were more than likely a bluff. As worked up as Wooyoung could become, Hongjoong knew he would never just up and leave. Not when this ship was his whole world, this crew his family. 

Perhaps he would hate Hongjoong for a long time, but he would rather deal with that than have to face a battle that could have been prevented, in which members of his crew could be hurt. Could die. Hongjoong would do anything to protect them, even if it meant briefly watching them distance themselves, as badly as it made his heart ache. 

They would come back to him, would realize why he did the things he had to do. He had to believe it, because otherwise his hands began to tremble and his eyes began to burn, and he couldn’t accomplish anything if he let his worries show. Instead, he focused on the one bit of good news that came along with the rising sun - that he had finally reached the seventh day. His deal with Yunho and Jongho had expired, and it was his turn. 

Getting the answers he needed would give him one less thing to worry about, and he kept an eye on Wooyoung and San all morning, not allowing them to bring breakfast down for the prisoner. He wanted the man to know that something had changed, to instill some degree of fear within him before the actual interrogation. After their first interaction, Hongjoong had a feeling that this would be more of a mental battle than a physical one. 

Now, as he stood in front of the door leading down to the cell, he raised his hand to feel the small knife that he had tucked beneath his waistband, hidden by the fabric of his shirt. The flat of the blade resisted his fingertips, and he could feel the cool metal against his skin. 

Yunho stood beside the door, disapproval etched into the lines of his face, but he didn’t say a word in protest. “I’ll be back shortly, with some actual information,” Hongjoong informed, unable to resist the jab, and he watched Yunho cross his arms over his chest. Still he said nothing, so Hongjoong reached for the doorknob, twisting it and pulling the door open. 

Even from here he could taste the staleness of the air below, and he inhaled deeply before beginning to descend the stairs, enjoying the sharp sound of his boots against wood. He composed his expression into one of regal indifference, clasping his hands in front of his belt as he stepped off of the last step, the cell fully in view. 

The prisoner sat hunched against the far wall, his skin covered in filth and his hair hanging down into his face, obscuring his features. Hongjoong could make out the shadow of his rib cage poking through the translucent skin of his torso, the ugly bruising that covered his injured arm and the shreds of his face that could be seen. A filthy piece of cloth had been tied into a makeshift sling, and Hongjoong noticed the one offered by Yeosang still sitting untouched by the bars. 

Despite his pitiful state, the man glared up at Hongjoong, his eyes shadowed and hostile. The darkness seemed to pool beneath the curve of his cheekbones and in the sockets of his eyes, contributing to how languid he looked. For a moment it appeared as if he was created from shadow itself rather than flesh and bone, and Hongjoong felt a chill creep up his spine, though he kept his expression neutral. 

As he allowed his lip to curl in disgust, the prisoner mimicked his expression, as if Hongjoong were as revolting a sight as he was. Hongjoong’s resentment towards him flared, for he still didn’t seem to understand his place on this ship. “Mocking me already, I see. I’ve been itching to come down here and slap that pompous look off your face.” A sneer twisted his words, each one sounding harsher than the last. “I heard you haven’t said a word since we threw your pathetic ass down here. That’ll change by the time we are finished here.”

Hongjoong took his time walking up to the bars, crafting his expression into one of superiority, looking down on the inadequate man before him. “You’ve put up more of a fight than I had initially expected. And I won’t lie to you, it pisses me off. But you’re nothing more than a weak little ship doctor, and by the time we are finished here you’ll wish you had taken the easy route.” 

It felt so gratifying to throw the insults back at this man, to beat him down into something small and weak, incapable of resisting. This was what he had been waiting for, and he felt stronger than he had in days. He only stopped moving once he was nearly flush with the bars, nose wrinkling at the unpleasant aroma that lingered around the cell. 

Scanning the man’s face, Hongjoong couldn’t deny that despite the still fading bruises, he wasn’t awful to look at. “I see your face has mostly healed. You’re a pretty one, aren’t you,” he observed aloud, making sure that the prisoner noticed how he focused on his eyes, his nose, his lips. 

He was sure that the other pirates on his crew had tolerated his weak nature primarily because of his appearance, but that tactic wouldn’t work on this ship. “I’m sure you used that to your advantage within your past crew, didn’t you?” A low blow, and he reveled in the shift of the prisoner’s expression, the clench of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes. He was livid - exactly as Hongjoong had intended. 

However, Hongjoong didn’t anticipate the parting of his lips, nor the words that escaped them, his voice raspy from lack of use. He had heard multiple times from the others that this man refused to speak, and he hadn’t expected him to crack this easily. “I appreciate the offer, but I would take the most painful of deaths over even just the thought of sharing your bed, mighty captain.” 

The words were full of mockery, and Hongjoong gritted his teeth before he could stop himself, forgetting to remain indifferent as his pulse beat an angry rhythm against his skin. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, it seems. I’ll have fun breaking you. We’ll see how snappy you are when I’m done with you,” he threatened, swiftly regaining the upper hand. He even allowed his lips to curl, relishing the thought of all the ways he could make this man pay for his brashness. 

“I’m not afraid of you, and I can tell it bothers you,” the prisoner commented, as if he hadn’t even heard Hongjoong’s threat. “I don’t fear death. I know I won’t be making it off this ship alive. But I plan to give you hell every step of the way until my final breath, you and your entire crew.” He paused for a brief moment, appearing to contemplate if he should continue before ultimately letting the words fly. 

“You know, I’ve spent some time observing your crew,” Hongjoong felt his entire body tense. He could brush off the remarks made about himself, but the prisoner was targeting him exactly where he was most vulnerable, and the worst part was that he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. 

“I’ve overheard some things. Now, I won’t tell you what I know, but I will tell you that it appears to me that you care for their safety. You have a weakness, and I know what it is.” Hongjoong’s fists clenched with such force that he could feel the strain in the bones of his fingers, his body trembling with rage as this man sliced deep with his words, baring Hongjoong’s greatest fear for all to see. 

As he spoke, a smile of his own twisted his face, and Hongjoong felt true, unrelenting fear for the first time in years - since he had left that god forsaken naval base as a teenager. “I know the thing that breaks you, and you have no idea what breaks me. So say whatever it is you want, you can break my bones and shatter my resolve, but you’ll never know my true weakness. You may be the one calling the shots, but it appears that I have the upper hand.” 

Hongjoong felt like he was hearing the words through water, his head buzzing and drowning out any thoughts that tried to emerge, his entire being consumed by the fear this prisoner had instilled within him with words alone. He should have been more firm in keeping his crew away from this man - he should have escalated every argument if it meant maintaining this man’s ignorance. 

But he had sat by as Yeosang had brought a brace down for this man, as Wooyoung and San had brought him meals and Yunho and Jongho had questioned him without the necessary malice - and it was his fault that the prisoner now knew this fundamental truth. “Heartless as you may seem, there is a heart inside of you that beats for those six members of your crew. You don’t know the first thing about me, and yet I know this about you,” he finished, and he didn’t need to raise his voice for his words to be deafening.

All throughout his time on the seas, Hongjoong had built an impenetrable reputation for ruthlessness, becoming one of the most feared captains in the region. He had always kept his secrets well guarded, his weaknesses hidden from view, and yet this man had reached into his very soul and grasped the thread that his only source of devotion, of love, was woven from. 

Without it, he would be no better than his father. Looking this man in the eye, Hongjoong saw the same smugness that had ruled over him throughout his entire childhood, and he felt just as dismantled as he had then. 

Only this time, he could actually do something about it. 

Hongjoong made the choice to pull on his anger, to allow it to flood every cell of his body, his internal temperature flaring as it nearly consumed him entirely. Instead of cowering, he chose to burn the fear to ash, slamming his hand on the bars and hardly registering the way they clanged. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, spewing this philosophical bullshit,” he spat, enjoying the burn, losing himself to it. 

Leaning in closer, he channeled all of his malice into his voice. “It appears you need to be reminded of your place here. You are worth no more than dirt, and your life is purposeless. No one is going to save you, and sure as hell no one is going to buy into your groundless threats.” Hongjoong knew very well how to make a person feel worthless, for all he needed to do was grasp his own self hatred and turn those feelings upon someone else. 

Too fast for the prisoner to track, Hongjoong pulled the small knife free from his waistband, the grip fitting just right in his palm. He grasped it so hard that he half expected his fingers to leave permanent impressions along the handle, and the prisoner’s eyes lit up sadistically. Hongjoong should have understood the reason for the expression, but he could focus on nothing other than causing this man pain. 

“Go ahead,” he goaded, appealing to Hongjoong’s twisted desire. “I know you want to. Throw it.” 

Hongjoong had already reared his arm back before the prisoner was even finished speaking, the knife flying from his grip with more force than necessary, meeting its mark directly through the man’s hand. His cries were immediate, the sounds grating against Hongjoong’s ears as he curled onto his side, the blade pinning his hand to the bottom of the cell. 

Blood jetted into the air like a geyser, bathing the prisoner’s face and body, and even once his voice broke his face still remained frozen in a silent scream. Hongjoong didn’t even realize he had begun to laugh, a harsh sound that filled the room, berating the crumpled figure on the floor. It felt so good to take his revenge - to retaliate against the one who had caused his fear for once in his pathetic life. 

He didn’t understand what the man in the cell was doing, too lost in his own sick delight until he heard the scrape of metal against metal followed by a pained grunt. The knife clattered against the floor as the prisoner threw it towards the back wall, pressing the fabric of his now-dismantled makeshift sling into his new wound and inhaling wheezing gasps of air. 

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Hongjoong turned to see Yunho standing on the bottom step, the triumph slowly beginning to flood from his expression as he took note of how stricken his first mate appeared. “Did you - Hongjoong, you are not this stupid! You just gave him a damn knife, for fuck’s sake!” 

Reality washed over Hongjoong like a bucket of ice cold water, the flames of anger extinguished in an instant as he turned back to the cell, finding the prisoner already staring back at him. And the bastard had the audacity to grin, blood staining his teeth and running down from the corner of his mouth. 

~

The air was pushed from Hongjoong’s lungs as his body was shoved up against the wall, the walls of the ship shuddering upon impact. Yunho had never used force against him like this before, but now the taller man easily pinned him in place, his features twisted in a rage that Hongjoong wouldn’t have believed him capable of if he weren’t seeing it with his own eyes. 

They had made it just far enough down the hall so that the prisoner wouldn’t be able to overhear them before Yunho had completely snapped, his fingers digging into the skin of Hongjoong’s arms. He knew that the others would be flooding out of the crew quarters at any moment due to the commotion, and he thrashed against Yunho’s grip, his fury returning at the treatment. 

“Let go of me,” he seethed, but Yunho shook his head, staring at Hongjoong like he wasn’t quite sure who he was anymore. 

“No - not before you listen to me. Having him down there is having a negative effect on you, and you aren’t even able to see it! He goaded you into throwing that knife - I heard him say it, and you didn’t even consider why he would want to be stabbed! Now he has a fucking weapon, and I can’t even blame him for wanting to use it after how horribly he’s been treated here.” 

Hongjoong couldn’t believe what he was hearing, opening his mouth to retaliate before Yunho had even finished. “How the fuck did you want me to treat him? Should I have invited him into my quarters, made him feel nice and comfortable, or are you forgetting what the last doctor on this ship did to us? All of our plans were foiled, and our entire ship was nearly sunk to the bottom of the sea - do you want a repeat of that? I thought you cared about our crew more than this,” he spat, paying no mind to the rest of the crew as they filed out into the hallway wearing varying expressions of confusion. 

“Stop being so irrational!” Yunho yelled, pulling Hongjoong away from the wall just to shove him back again, as if he were trying to shake him into awareness. “Your biggest problem is that all you care about is your crew - you would sacrifice basic human decency to keep us safe, even when we’re yelling in your face that it’s not what we want! I don’t want to follow the orders of a captain who performs the same immoral acts that led me to this ship in the first place, why can’t you fucking understand that?” 

His chest was heaving by the time he was finished, and he pushed against Hongjoong one last time before stepping back, his eyes rimmed with red and full of angry tears. “How dare you say that to me,” Hongjoong breathed. “After everything I’ve done for you - for all of you.” He allowed his eyes to wander, tracing over the rest of his crew, all of them watching him with expressions wary. 

He couldn’t believe that any of this was truly happening, that Yunho of all people had exploded on him with the rest bearing witness. And none of them seemed to even remotely disagree with what had been said. “Do you not see what he is doing? He is driving a wedge between us, fracturing the bonds that make our ship a family. This is what he wants, and you’re all just letting it happen.” 

Mingi opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, likely to defend his partner, but Hongjoong raised a hand and silenced him instantly. “I don’t want to hear it. None of you will go down to that cell while he possesses that knife, understand? We’re running out of time, and clearly my attempts to spare your feelings were a waste. Wooyoung, make him just enough rations to stay alive, nothing more.” 

He set his gaze upon the cook, who glared resolutely back with tears in his eyes, though Hongjoong knew they weren’t for him. “Make them yourself,” he spat, and Hongjoong could sense that something within the boy had shifted. He should have seen it coming after their conversation the night before, but it still cut deep to see the hurt behind Wooyoung’s objection. 

Turning to Yunho instead, Hongjoong’s expression grew stony. “I expect you will make his rations, then, if you care so much about ‘basic human decency’.” Yunho appeared for a moment like he would protest, but he instead chose to keep his mouth shut, responding with only a slight incline of the head. He probably knew that if he didn’t agree, Hongjoong would just let the prisoner starve to death down there. 

Deeming the altercation finished, Hongjoong headed out towards the deck this time, unable to stand the thought of being alone in his small bedroom with only his hatred for company. No one came out to disturb him, and he sat by the helm all through the rest of the day, watching the sun set and the stars emerge. 

He typically found comfort in the stars dotting the vast expanse of sky over his head, but tonight all he could feel was the oppressive emptiness that had started in his chest and encased everything else as well, the stars not quite as bright as they usually were. 

Everything around him seemed muted in pallor, as if all of the color had leached from the world along with the grace of the only six people he had ever loved. 

Chapter Text

The moment Hongjoong had been dreading arrived just a few days later. After his argument with Yunho the ship seemed close to sinking with the weight of the silence between himself and the crew, and he did his best to skirt around them whenever he had to leave his quarters. The only one he had spoken to beyond a muttered word or two was Yeosang, but they only discussed the ship’s future course, nothing more. 

A cramp started in Hongjoong’s neck as he sat by the wheel, examining a map with Yeosang by his side, and he forced himself to his feet with a wince as his joints protested. He wasn’t sure exactly how long they had been sitting there, but the sun was beginning to rise in the sky now, his shirt damp with sweat. Now that the storm had passed, the temperature was sweltering again, and with less wind today little could be done to avoid the heat. 

Hongjoong raised the hem of his shirt to blot the sweat from his temples, staring out at the deep blue waters surrounding them on all sides. He loved the feeling of being in the middle of such a large expanse of ocean - it made his problems feel insignificant in comparison, and he raised a hand to protect his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. 

A soft sigh fell from his lips, and he squinted his eyes as he allowed himself to stare over the water for a moment, taking advantage of this mental break from creating their next route. He almost didn’t see it then, but the visibility was extremely high that day, and at first he thought it was the shadow of storm clouds rolling back over the blue skies. 

Stepping onto the upper deck, Hongjoong craned his neck forward, hearing Yeosang shift behind him. “Hongjoong, do you see something?” The navigator asked, his words hesitant, and Hongjoong was hardly listening as he stared ahead. There, so far out on the horizon that he wasn’t sure if the distance was playing tricks on him, was the shadow of a ship. A ship with enemy sails raised, the bow heading directly towards them. 

Hongjoong’s entire frame stiffened, and he pointed a rigid arm out in front of him, feeling Yeosang step up beside him. “It’s an enemy ship. And if my hunch is right, it’s the very same one that we stole our prisoner from.” He cursed under his breath, turning to face Yeosang, the boy’s expression shifting from confused to terrified as a gust of wind buffeted his hair in all directions. 

“Let me see if there’s a way for us to outsail them,” Yeosang whispered, raising his fingertips to his lips, trembling slightly. “They’re coming at us from up ahead again - how do they keep doing that?” Hongjoong could give no response, just chewing the inside of his cheek until his teeth broke skin, the metallic taste keeping him grounded. 

“I need to go find Yunho - we need to mobilize, and quickly. Keep looking at the map, Yeosang, and find us a way out of this. Otherwise, I have a feeling this isn’t going to be as easy as last time.” His words were ominous, and he could see the fear in his friend’s eyes, but this was no time for false comforts. Nodding his head once was the best reassurance he could give, and then he was stepping from the upper deck, bursting through the cabin door and heading for the crew quarters. 

Thankfully Yunho was there, seated on the edge of San’s bunk with Mingi by his side, the two of them speaking in hushed tones. Their conversation was abruptly halted by Hongjoong’s arrival, however, and Yunho stood up immediately, his fists already balled at his sides. Hongjoong clenched his jaw, and Yunho must have realized that something was going on, for his brows rose to hide behind his bangs, a silent question. 

“There’s an enemy ship on the horizon,” he informed flatly, and Yunho’s lips parted in surprise, panic flitting across his features. “Come with me - we can’t waste any more time.” He didn’t bother waiting for his first mate to move, instead just vacating the room and heading back down the hallway, trusting Yunho to follow after him. 

Sure enough, rapid steps echoed against the walls as he rushed to catch up, falling into step beside Hongjoong. “If they’re already visible on the horizon, that gives us only a matter of hours until they arrive, captain,” Yunho said, his tone clipped and full of importance, any lingering hostility forced away for the sake of the issue at hand. 

Hongjoong mentally considered what would need to be done in that short amount of time, knowing what he would need to deal with and sending Yunho off to do the rest. “ Talk to Mingi and Yeosang, we need to know if there is any route we can take to avoid them,” he ordered, and Yunho nodded in understanding, always taking his duty seriously even despite their current differences. 

That was why Hongjoong had chosen him as a first mate, and despite his words said in anger, he would never truly consider taking the position away. Yunho understood what needed to be done when time grew tight, and Hongjoong trusted him to execute his will. “I’ll take care of the rest,” he added, casting a subtle glance towards the door at the end of the hall, across from the cabin exit. 

“I will, but Hongjoong - it’s not likely. We’d be better off getting prepared now so we can be ready when they get closer. They’re far enough on the horizon, we have enough time,” Yunho pressed, and Hongjoong couldn’t fault him for his urgency, for he felt the same way. They wouldn’t be able to outsail the enemy crew, not this time. And even if they did, it would only be another few days before their ship caught up again. 

This was their best chance, for the skies had been clear enough to see the ship at a distance. If they tried to sail away, they might just be confronted with less time to prepare upon their next ambush. Hongjoong rubbed a hand over his temples, though it did nothing to soothe the headache gathering there. 

Lowering his voice, Hongjoong pulled Yunho to a stop just a few paces away from the door to the cell room, making sure the man below wouldn’t hear his words. “You’re right. I know you are, but let the others have a few more minutes of peace before we start forcing them to prepare for yet another fight.”

He paused, stabbing a thumb in the direction of the door. “I am going down there, and you can choose to come with me or not, but this is our last chance to get information out of that man before his crew tries to kill us all. So you can either set aside your distaste for my way of handling things and join me in case I lose control, or you can let me do this by myself.” 

It was the best offer he could give, and he could see in Yunho’s face that he understood that. Hongjoong needed to do this, because he needed to gain some kind of upper hand in this upcoming battle, but he was admitting in his own roundabout way that he had lost control last time. That he needed Yunho’s help. 

HIs first mate seemed to consider the offer for a brief moment, casting a glance back towards the crew quarters where Mingi still lingered before giving a steadfast nod. “Fine,” he agreed, keeping his tone hushed as well, “but only because I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to them. But if you lose control, I will stop you. Understand that.” 

Hongjoong knew this, and he acknowledged Yunho’s terms quietly before stepping closer to the door and beginning to descend. His steps broke through the otherwise silent air of the room, Yunho following right behind as Hongjoong vacated the last stair and stepped closer to the cell. 

The man inside was covered in his own blood, his hand wrapped in a shred of his own shirt, completely stained through with dried blood the color of rust. Hongjoong’s nostrils filled with the metallic smell, and he wrinkled his nose, knowing that he would be smelling a lot more of it by the time the day was done. Eyes wandering, he noticed the gleam of the small silver blade resting on the floor beside the prisoner, and his expression turned murderous. 

All of his anger came rushing back at the sight of the prisoner and his weapon, and he harnessed it this time, using it to fuel his need for information. He could see the smug expression molded over the man’s features, a slight quirk to his lips, and Hongjoong had to tear his gaze away to avoid throwing another weapon. 

Instead, he mentally measured the distance from the prisoner to the bars on his right, the grimy ration buckets sitting close by. If he moved fast enough, he could probably pull this off… especially since the prisoner didn’t seem to be faring well after the amount of blood he had lost, his face gaunt and his limbs hanging loosely at his sides. Chances were his reflexes wouldn’t be fast enough to get away in time. 

Moving abruptly, Hongjoong stalked over to the side of the cell and darted his arm through one of the gaps between the bars, clenching his grip around the prisoner’s unbroken arm and tugging him close to the bars with unbridled strength, surprised at how easy he was to move. After surviving off of the limited rations for several days, Hongjoong had expected him to weigh less than a man of his stature should have, but he could actually feel the hard press of bone through the man’s arm. 

His skin seemed to hang from his bones, and the knobs of his shoulders were angular, not unlike the skeletons Hongjoong had come across several times during his life on the sea. Clutching his broken arm to his chest, his cheek was pressed straight against the bars, warping the skin of his face. Hongjoong didn’t relent, maintaining his unforgiving grip on the man’s wrist as he spoke, his words hissing between bared teeth. 

“Listen to me now, or so help me I will snap your wrist with my bare hands,” he threatened, squeezing the bone for good measure. “Your disgraceful crew is sailing towards us with cannons raised. Tell us what you know of this attack, no more of this silent treatment bullshit.” 

Their faces hovered just inches from each other, and though Hongjoong could barely make out the man’s features amidst all of the filth, he saw the youth in his eyes now that they were staring up at him from this close. He couldn’t have been much older than Hongjoong himself, and the realization threw him off balance for a moment. The rest of that particular rival crew were primarily well into middle age - how had this man found his place amongst their numbers?

“And what if I don’t want to tell you?” The prisoner whispered, his tone dripping with false sweetness as he flexed his wrist in Hongjoong’s grip. Almost like he was begging for the bone to be snapped. “I think I’d rather keep it to myself, actually. Sorry.” 

Red flashed over Hongjoong’s vision, this man never failing to goad him deeper into his anger, his self restraint barely hanging on. This was all a game to him, despite the lives that hinged on the battle coming their way. “There are lives on the line here. Tell us now. Or so help me god I will spill your throat all over the floor of this cell.” Hongjoong wasted no time in pulling a new knife from his waistband, shoving his free hand through the bars and pressing the sharp edge of the blade to the prisoner’s vulnerable throat. 

And he still had the nerve to laugh, the sound grating and raw, his throat bobbing against the knife without care. “You really don’t get it, do you? I do not care if you kill me.” He made the declaration with little inflection, and Hongjoong knew it to be the truth. He had realized as much when the man had purposely allowed a blade to cleave his hand straight through - he intended to wreak as much havoc as possible, for he knew he wouldn't be making it off of this ship alive. 

Hongjoong tensed, allowing the blade to sink a little deeper into the prisoner’s flesh, a bright line of red contrasting the dried blood crusted all over the visible surface of his skin. “Then perhaps I won’t kill you,” he decided, lowering his voice as he pondered the thought. “Perhaps I will leave you lying here on the brink of death to suffer. Does that sound pleasant to your twisted, cowardly mind?” 

He could feel the rough exhales of the prisoner’s stale breath against his face, and he reveled in the way he briefly faltered, not as confident in the face of suffering as he was death. At least, that was how Hongjoong chose to interpret the pause, though he changed his mind with the prisoner’s next jab. 

“That sounds fine to me, though I’m not sure you would be able to handle it. Last I heard, Wooyoung was upset with you when you snapped my arm on the deck, wasn’t he? Surely he wouldn’t take well to you leaving me down here to die.” At the mention of Wooyoung’s name, Hongjoong could feel his expression twist with rage, and he laid even more pressure into the knife, watching the blood trick down the prisoner’s throat and onto his chest. 

It still wasn’t enough - he wanted to dig deeper, to cut until this man choked on his blood and lost the ability to ever speak of his crew again. “Don’t you dare speak a word of him. He does not have a single care for you, nobody does. You are worthless,” he seethed, anger weighing on every word.

“Even if that is true, you’re too weak to take the risk, aren’t you? He may never forgive you,” the prisoner mused, and Hongjoong could almost feel the way his anger snapped, his arms trembling with the need to hurt, to kill the man at his feet. He couldn’t possibly have known the truth behind his words, but Wooyoung had made nearly the same threat that day in the cabin, when he had come up from this very room with tears in his eyes. 

This prisoner had been able to read Wooyoung perfectly despite his limited vantage point being stuck down here, and Hongjoong again felt fear strike through his heart, stoking the flames of his rage. Hongjoong tightened his grip around the prisoner’s wrist and pushed him back before slamming his face directly into the bars, the sickening thud of flesh smacking metal invading his senses. 

Unable to control himself, Hongjoong stilled his trembling hand the only way he knew how - by carving a line along the prisoner’s throat, starting at the base of his left ear and slowly digging the blade all the way around to the right. Rivulets of blood rained from the wound, pouring down the prisoner’s chest and dripping to the floor. 

Hongjoong knew that he held a life in his hands in that instant, that all it would take was the slightest addition of pressure to sever an artery and put an end to the object of his hatred. He hesitated just long enough to feel Yunho’s arm on his shoulder, the pressure snapping him back to himself. 

In that moment, he had realized that if he killed this man, that would leave no other outlet for his hatred to be directed towards. It would all remain inside, directed towards himself as soon as the others forced him to come to terms with what he had done, and the thought had made him falter. Hongjoong never faltered - the prisoner should have been bleeding to death at his feet, the blood soaking into his boots. 

And yet, he wasn’t. 

“Don’t do it, Hongjoong,” Yunho murmured, his hand tight on Hongjoong’s shoulder, ready to snatch the blade from his grip if necessary. “He’s not worth it. We’ll keep him down here during the battle; his skills as a doctor may be needed if anyone gets injured beyond Yeosang’s abilities.” 

Hongjoong still didn’t budge, the words unable to resonate as he stared at the man before him, hating the insolence shrouding his true intent. His fingers trembled against the knife again, and then it was being pulled from his grip, Yunho gently prying his fingers away from the handle. “We have bigger things to focus on, and he clearly won’t be helping us,” his first mate concluded, standing up straight once more. 

Following his lead, Hongjoong relinquished his hold on the prisoner and got to his feet, refusing to look at the man for another second as he turned on his heel and stalked back up the steps and into the cabin. Yunho didn’t follow him straight away, and Hongjoong was about to turn back when the first mate emerged as well, his expression stony. 

“We did what we could,” he conceded, and an unspoken agreement passed between them, that they would set aside their differences in the face of the battle headed their way. They had no time to waste, and Yunho didn’t seem as disapproving of Hongjoong’s actions today. Hongjoong suspected that he had wished for answers as well, despite his aversion to the violence. 

“It wasn’t enough,” Hongjoong replied gruffly, pushing the door to the cabin open and setting his eyes directly upon the horizon. Sure enough, the enemy ship had drawn closer, and a chill passed over Hongjoong’s skin despite the midday heat. “We all need to get to work preparing the cannons and readying our firearms. San can shoot from the crow’s nest along with Yeosang - we need to do everything we can to keep this battle at a distance. If they drop that plank, I fear we won’t be as successful this time.” 

He didn’t mention the other reason why he was terrified of the enemy pirates stepping foot onto their deck this time. Wooyoung couldn’t be locked down in the cell with the prisoner down there, and nowhere else on the ship was as safe of an option, another reason why Hongjoong should have killed the man earlier. He cursed himself for his lack of foresight, hands fisting at his sides. 

Hongjoong couldn’t fully explain why he felt so strongly about the stakes of this battle, but he suspected that the rival crew had regrouped after last time, using the information they had gathered to create a stronger plan this time around. Fiercely protective of his crew, Hongjoong couldn’t stand the sight of them sailing closer by the minute. He had a terrible feeling about where this day would lead. 

~

With their limited time before the enemy ship came within range, Hongjoong had developed a plan with the others, sending San and Yeosang up to the crows nest to act as snipers, taking out the pirates controlling the cannons before they could fire. The rest of them would work together to man their own cannons, hopefully punching through the other ship’s hull enough times to send them to the bottom of the sea. 

There had been no other option but for Wooyoung to hide in Hongjoong’s own quarters, and he feared for the boy from the moment he shut the door, knowing that he wouldn’t be safe there. Not if the rival pirates made it onto the ship, which was why Hongjoong absolutely could not allow their plank to be dropped. There was no room for failure this time. 

The plan was far from perfect, but it was the best they had been able to come up with under such pressure, and as the battle raged on Hongjoong could feel when the tides began to shift, their ragtag crew gaining the upper hand slowly but steadily. “Fire again on my mark!” He yelled over the sound of gunfire, and Yunho and Mingi prepared the cannon, their clothing drenched through with sweat.

Jongho continued to shoot at their opponents, always meeting his intended target. Despite his age, he was the best marksman Hongjoong had ever come across, and he had never been more grateful to have the boy at his side. Arrows flew from above as well, and though Hongjoong didn’t have the time to observe their progress, he knew San and Yeosang must have been doing their job. 

The amount of pirates crowding the opposing deck was beginning to thin out, and as far as Hongjoong knew their own ship hadn’t taken on much damage aside from a few bullet holes. He hadn’t felt any cannons impact the ship, and he grinned at the thought of his snipers taking down the cannon operators out of nowhere, knowing he must have appeared slightly manic. 

“Fire!” He cried out, and the cannon erupted towards the opposite ship, disappearing through the hull. The entire mass shuddered with the impact, and Hongjoong knew that this battle was nearly over. If they fled now, the enemy ship would never be able to follow, and he was certain that they would sink. 

They fired off a few more rounds of cannons, until the returning gunfire from the rival ship had decreased drastically, and Hongjoong knew they had won this battle. Relief swelled in his chest, and he ordered Mingi and Jongho to raise the anchor and turn the sails. The waves had grown rougher during the battle, and their momentum began to carry their ship away almost instantly. 

Hongjoong craned his neck to look back at the enemy ship one last time, unable to resist the grin that pulled at his lips. They were already taking on water, gallons of sea pouring into the gaping cannon holes embedded all along the hull. In a matter of hours the ship would be submerged, and one less enemy crew would pose a threat to their happiness out here on the sea. 

With the grin still touching his lips, Hongjoong raised a hand over his head to block the sun, waving with his other arm up at the crow’s nest. He didn’t understand why San and Yeosang were taking so long to rejoin them - probably caught up in celebrating. Hongjoong couldn’t blame them, for he had already begun to mentally imagine himself uncorking a bottle of bitter grape wine with dinner. This victory would numb the tensions festering between himself and his crew at least for tonight, and Hongjoong could already almost taste the wine on his tongue. 

He could just barely make out movement up in the crow’s nest, and he squinted as a head popped over the side. It had to be Yeosang, for his hair was blowing in the harsh whip of the wind, and the boy was waving his arms over his head. Hongjoong waved back unconsciously, before his arm began to slow, realization washing over him like the ice cold tide. 

Yeosang’s movements weren’t celebratory - they were frantic, and Hongjoong could tell he was yelling something, his words swallowed by the wind. 

And San was nowhere to be found. 

Hongjoong tensed, his bones going rigid as he turned away from the crow’s nest for a brief moment, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Mingi and Jongho were still working on adjusting the direction of the sails, so Hongjoong crossed the distance between himself and Yunho, his mind so focused on worst case scenarios that he didn’t even realize he had moved until Yunho’s hand was on his shoulder. 

The first mate peered into Hongjoong’s face, concern furrowing his brow. “Hey, what’s going on? We won, Hongjoong - it’s over,” he comforted, and Hongjoong wanted so badly to lean into the reassurance, to allow himself to let go of the stress bunching his shoulders, but he knew he couldn’t. 

Instead, he grasped Yunho’s wrist tightly, not unlike the grip he had maintained on the prisoner just hours before. “Go get Wooyoung,” he said, and the fear underlying his voice must have been audible, for Yunho tensed instantly. “I think something happened up in the crow’s nest - I think it’s San.” 

Yunho’s skin paled as he nodded, casting a glance towards Yeosang’s still waving arms. The sight of the navigator’s urgency pulled him from his stupor, and then he was rushing across the deck, bursting into the cabin and disappearing from view. 

Hongjoong let his eyes close for just long enough to lock his composure back into place, heading over to stand below the crow’s nest. Yeosang was no longer visible, for he had likely seen Hongjoong and knew that he had received the signal. Dread pooled like molten lead in Hongjoong’s gut as he began to climb the rungs, each one slick with condensation from the surrounding sea. He kept his grip as tight as possible, ignoring how his hands threatened to slip with each new rung he encountered.

Despite the perilous nature of climbing this high, Hongjoong had done it many times before, and his pace did not relent until he made it to the top, emerging onto the flat bottom of the nest itself. “Hongjoong, you have to help me!” Yeosang cried out, his eyes frantic, and Hongjoong’s stomach dropped all the way back down to the deck as he took stock of the scene. 

San had collapsed back against the opposite side, the diameter of the crow’s nest no longer than the length of his sprawled out legs. His chest visibly heaved as he stared down at the arrow rooted deep in the flesh of his thigh, teeth gritted and face red due to the exertion. Yeosang’s hands frantically flitted over San’s prone form, even though his panic was evident. Blood was everywhere, coating Yeosang’s skin and soaking through San’s clothing, dripping down onto the base of the nest. 

Hongjoong forced himself to act, pushing down his terror at the sight of so mch blood and trying to think of a solution as he reached over and squeezed San’s hand. Pain clouded the boy’s eyes, and Hongjoong felt the emotion go straight to his heart, pressing his lips together as his eyes burned. “We’re gonna figure this out, alright?” He soothed, hoping that he had successfully dispelled the panic from his voice.

“Yeosang, we need to get him to the deck. We can’t do anything to stop the bleeding up here.” He didn’t even mention removing the arrow, but he knew as he looked at Yeosang that the same thought had crossed both of their minds. If the arrow had hit anything vital, they would need to do a lot more than just stop the bleeding. 

Hongjoong didn’t know much about treating injuries, but he did know that the femoral artery ran through the thigh, and all he could do was pray that the arrow hadn't nicked it. He had never been a religious man, but no one laughed at God when someone they love might be dying. 

“How are we going to get him down there?” Yeosang asked, a slight tremble affecting his words. “I don’t think he can even support himself like this-” 

“Let me try,” San forced out through clenched teeth, strain visible in his neck as his eyes darted between the two of them. “I refuse to die up here - not when everyone else is down below.” Despite the pain, he shifted himself forward, a strangled cry escaping as the arrow shifted. 

“Stop, Sannie,” Hongjoong murmured as he squeezed his hand again, searching for the right words to subdue the fear radiating from both San and Yeosang. “We’ll help you, okay? I’ll go down first, and you’ll go right after me. Yeosang, you follow after San.” The navigator nodded, and Hongjoong focused on the injured boy before him. “It’s going to hurt, Sannie - I’m not going to pretend that it won’t. But Wooyoung is waiting for you down there. Do this for him, alright? Once you get down there, we’ll take care of your pain. I just need you to be strong until then.”

San stared up at him with tears of pain clinging to his lashes, but his nod was firm as ever, his hand weakly squeezing back. “I promise I’ll be strong,” he whispered, voice breaking, and Hongjoong had to ignore the wave of emotion that crashed over him. San would be okay - he had to be okay. Even if Yeosang wasn’t capable of treating the wound… another option still remained, and Hongjoong mentally thanked Yunho for not allowing him to spill the prisoner’s throat onto the floor of the cell. As awful as it was to admit, they just might need him. 

Hongjoong shifted back until he was close to the top of the rungs once more, carefully removing his hand from San’s and placing both palms under his knees. “Yeosang, help me move him forward.” Yeosang moved quietly, bracing his hands under San’s arms. Counting to three, they locked eyes and lifted, both bearing some of San’s weight and moving towards the ladder. 

A garbled scream stuck in San’s throat, and apologies fell from Hongjoong’s lips as he took a deep inhale, stepping down onto the first rung. “San, listen to me.” He allowed more firmness into his tone as he resolutely tried to ignore how his boot nearly slipped off of the metal rung. Once he knew he had the boy’s attention, he smiled softly, though he knew it must have appeared pained. 

“I’m going to be right below you. We’ll move at your pace, just… try not to jostle the arrow too much.” Which would be essentially impossible, since it was jutting out of the front of his thigh. With each run he passed, it would catch on the metal bar and rip open the wound even further. 

San tried to smile back, though it came off as more of a grimace. “Hey, you know me. I can climb that ladder with my eyes closed.” As if to emphasize this point, his eyes fluttered briefly, and Hongjoong shook his head.

 “Let’s keep those eyes open this time, alright?” The suggestion was gentle, and San nodded, craning his neck to keep his eyes on Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong stepped down another rung, only his head and shoulders able to be seen from inside the crow’s nest, and San took that as his cue. He moved closer to the rungs, grasping the top of the wooden walls and rotating his body so that he was aligned to take the first step down. “I’m scared,” he admitted, breathless from the pain of moving, and Hongjoong’s sympathy for the boy rose. 

He took another step down, making room for San. “You are one of the bravest people I know,” Hongjoong said seriously. “You can do this - I know you can.” San took a few more audible gasps of air before he nodded, setting the foot of his good leg down on the top rung. “That’s it,” Hongjoong encouraged, moving along with him. 

“I c-can’t,” San suddenly burst out, his voice hitching as he stared down towards the deck, eyes wide in panic. “The arrow is g-gonna move, I know it will-” 

This clearly wasn’t working, but Hongjoong didn’t know what else to do. San would bleed out if he stayed up here for too long, and he felt his hands begin to slip as sweat gathered in his palms. 

“Sannie,” Yeosang interrupted, and Hongjoong could tell he had an idea from the determined set of his jaw, the sparkle in his eyes. “How many times have we fooled around on this ladder - you, Wooyoung, and me? I’ve seen you climb this thing upside down, for fuck’s sake. Doing it with one leg out of commission is possible - I’ve seen you do it, minus the arrow. If you cling to the upper bar with your arms and move just your one leg to the next one down, you should be able to dangle your hurt leg to the side so the arrow isn’t jostled by the bars.” 

He explained himself rapidly, the words tumbling out into the wind, but it wasn’t such a bad idea. San’s trembling lessened, and he took Yeosang’s advice, gripping the walls of the crow’s nest with all of his remaining strength as he lowered his good leg to the next bar, keeping the injured one out to the side. 

A wince marred his features, and his breathing was audibly ragged, but he otherwise seemed to be okay. Hongjoong took another tentative step down, watching as San lowered himself again, ready to hang on for his life if the boy lost his balance. However, that didn’t happen, and they continued to move down the same way, making slow and steady progress. 

By the time they were nearing the bottom, San's entire body was trembling with exertion, and small grunts of pain escaped each time he lowered himself down, but he still refused to give up. Despite his constant anxiety as he watched his friend struggle, Hongjoong couldn’t ignore the pride that he felt either, combined with awe. Blood still trickled from San’s leg, and every so often a drop splashed down into Hongjoong’s hair, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally stepped down onto the surface of the deck, loosing a breath as he reached his hands up to support San in his final descent. The others had gathered around the base of the crow’s nest, and Yunho used his height to assist, bracing his hands under San’s arms and lowering him down to the surface of the deck. 

All strength seemed to flood from San’s body when he realized that the hardest part was over, and the tear tracks along his cheeks gleamed in the sunlight, unfairly beautiful despite the situation. Yunho carefully laid out his leg flat against the deck, and blood continued to trail down onto the wood, a small puddle forming within seconds. 

Yeosang dropped down from the ladder last, and he rushed to San’s side, his lip caught between his teeth. As he scanned over his friend’s injured form, a small sob distracted Hongjoong, and he tore his eyes away from the scene when a hand tugged against his sleeve. 

“Oh, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong said softly, his heart squeezing at the sight of the boy. His face was red and covered in tears, his breaths hitching as he cried, unable to tear his eyes away from the man he loved bleeding on the ground. “Just let Yeosang look him over, he’ll be able to figure something out-”

Wooyoung shook his head, the movement hysterical as he took a step forward, “We have to do something!” He burst out, and Hongjoong pressed his fingers to his lips, the corners of his mouth tight, unable to stand seeing him in such distress. It sounded like he was begging, like he would do anything to eliminate San’s pain, and Hongjoong swore he could feel his heart fracture. “Please, Yeosang, do something!” 

Hongjoong knew he didn’t mean the words in a cruel manner, but Yeosang was under enough pressure already as he desperately tried to tear open San’s pant leg without causing him additional pain, and he could feel the navigator’s composure snap. “God dammit Wooyoung, can’t you see that I’m trying? I haven’t treated an injury like this before and you know that!” He lashed out, chest heaving, and Hongjoong felt the beginnings of anger simmer below his skin, already beginning to realize what would need to be done. 

Another voice attempted to defuse the situation - Jongho, though Hongjoong was hardly listening as he clenched his fists at his sides, hate overcoming his concern. All he had ever done was told the man in the cell that he was worthless, and now Hongjoong desperately needed his help. The irony did not escape him, and he dug his nails into his palms hard enough to hurt, refusing to let his crew crumble any further. 

“That’s it,” he ground out, hardly noticing as all heads turned in his direction, likely taken aback by his harsh tone. “I don’t care what I have to do, that doctor will fix him.” Choosing not to linger for another moment, Hongjoong took off towards the cabin door, his steps resonating through the wooden planks beneath him. 

Flinging the door open, he headed directly down the stairs to the cell room, well aware that the prisoner had probably heard the commotion from the deck considering how agitated their voices had been. And yet, the man’s face was still crafted into a perfect sculpture of disinterest, only serving to inflame Hongjoong’s anger further. He allowed it to happen, settling much more comfortably into the grip of anger than the fear he had been feeling since the end of the battle. 

“You,” he snarled, walking directly up to the bars with purpose, turning his need for help into a cruel command. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn… none of this would be happening, he reminded himself. “I have an injured crew member thanks to your inability to give us the information we need. I am going to pull you out of there, and you are going to save him unless you want to feel the full force of my wrath.”

“I heard San has an injury? That’s too bad.” The prisoner’s voice was mocking, full of false sympathy, and the anger Hongjoong had felt during their past interactions paled in comparison to what he felt then. His vision clouded over, the blood in his veins reaching a boiling point as he dug the key to the cell out of his pocket, approaching the door to the cell and shoving it inside the lock. 

His hands were shaking with such violent force that he nearly dropped the key, frustration raging on top of every other emotion currently tearing him apart. He forced himself to exhale, hating how his fingers trembled as he struggled to twist the key, eventually unlocking the door. The prisoner had shifted into a standing position, though his back was awkwardly hunched, the entirety of his skin covered in grime and dirt. Hongjoong could barely even tell that a person actually existed under all of the filth. 

Roughly grasping the prisoner’s uninjured arm, Hongjoong spun him around and pressed the knife from his belt flush to his neck, wrinkling his nose at their proximity. The man tried to squirm, but Hongjoong just pushed the knife deeper into his skin, the movements halting immediately. Blood again bloomed along the line of the blade, the wound from earlier that day easily broken once more, and Hongjoong prepared to shove the man towards the cell door before something else caught his eye. 

On the metal bottom of the cell sat a pool of coagulating blood, not far from the small indent that Hongjoong knew he had created when he had thrown his knife and pinned down the prisoner’s hand. That alone was not interesting, for the majority of the cell floor was covered in dried blood, but it appeared as if a word had been… written into the blood. The prisoner must have done it, for no one else could have, and Hongjoong narrowed his eyes against the darkness in an attempt to make out what it said. 

Seonghwa.

Hongjoong could hardly maintain his composure as he forced the man out of the cell, his head spinning with the knowledge of what he had just seen. Seonghwa… could it possibly be? Could that be the name that the prisoner had refused to share countless times, the one that he clearly held close to his chest? It seemed incredibly likely, unless if the man possessed some kind of long lost lover or something, which Hongjoong highly doubted. Something in the way he acted led Hongjoong to believe that he cared for no one to that degree… perhaps because Hongjoong had spent years of his life carrying himself the same way. 

Seonghwa. He toyed with the name in his mind as he forcibly guided the man up the stairs and out towards the deck. As much as he would have loved to say the name aloud, to finally hold the upper hand, he decided to keep the knowledge close to his chest as they headed out onto the deck. For all he knew, a better opportunity might present itself in the future, and until then he would enjoy feeling smug over this one detail that he wasn't supposed to know. 

As they made their way out of the cabin, Hongjoong noticed that blood trailed along the floor as they walked, dripping from the hand of the prisoner - Seonghwa, Hongjoong mentally corrected himself with twisted pleasure despite the high stakes situation - the filthy bandage he had wrapped around the area doing little good. Hongjoong knew the blood came from the knife wound, and he grinned to himself, pleased with his handiwork.

Seonghwa stumbled forward as they emerged out into the sun, his eyes forced to adjust after weeks surrounded by darkness. Hongjoong kept the knife up against his neck, only stopping once they reached the others, all of them crowded around San’s vulnerable form. 

Wooyoung had since joined Yeosang at San’s side, his hand clasped around that of his partner as he whispered words of comfort, though his own expression was one of terribly concealed panic. The blood had spread along the deck even further, soaking through the knees of Wooyoung’s pants, the deep red color a stark contrast to the white fabric. 

One look at San made all of Hongjoong’s former worry return, for the boy seemed to be barely hanging on to consciousness, his head lolling backwards and his teeth clenched with such force that Hongjoong wouldn’t be surprised if they cracked. Despite his state, he still stared at Wooyoung like he was the most beautiful thing to grace the earth, and Hongjoong felt like he was intruding as he watched the two of them. At least Wooyoung could bring San a piece of comfort - he was grateful for that. 

Yeosang had wrapped a piece of cloth around the shaft of the arrow, but the blood had already soaked it through, dripping over Yeosang’s fingers and gathering beneath his nails. Despite his efforts, Hongjoong knew that the boy was at a loss - he was out of his depth, and his shoulders had caved in with the weight of expectation. Remorse squeezed Hongjoong’s chest, for he never should have placed such pressure on Yeosang to fill a role he had never trained for. 

“Yeosang, he’s going to help,” Hongjoong blurted out, desperate to assuage his worries. “He can tell you how to get the arrow out and stitch it up, isn’t that right?” He punctuated the question with his knife, adding pressure and feeling Seonghwa squirm in his hold. 

His throat bobbed against the blade, more blood trickling free. “You heard what I said. I have no desire to help any of you.” Hongjoong gripped the handle of the knife tighter, his knuckles turning white. “Why would it matter to me in the slightest what happens to any of you? Look at what you’ve done to me,” Seonghwa reasoned, and Hongjoong could hardly restrain himself from digging the knife in deeper, so desperate to see the defiant light leave his eyes for good. 

But he couldn’t do that this time, and Seonghwa seemed to know it too, for his smugness only grew as the others took in his battered appearance. “You have a doctor, I’m sure he’s capable,” he remarked, though it had to have been clear to him that Yeosang was very far from capable of handling this particular injury. Hongjoong could hardly restrain his rage, his jaw trembling from the unrelenting force of it, and he opened his mouth to retort before Yunho spoke over him. 

“He isn’t really a doctor, he’s a navigator but our old doctor betrayed us and Yeosang has been doing his best ever since but he isn’t equipped to handle a wound like this,” his first mate blurted, eyes pleading with the filthy man pressed flush against Hongjoong’s chest. Hongjoong again tried to speak, to protest the willing offering of information, but Yunho cut him off once more. “Hongjoong, before you get mad at me for telling him, we have no choice. Do you want San to be okay or not?” Yunho bit out the words, and Hongjoong forced himself to rein in his anger. 

Seonghwa riled him up so much that he had nearly lost sight of the reason he had retrieved him from the cell in the first place - to save San’s life. Losing control of his anger now would only strengthen Seonghwa’s resolve, so Hongjoong clamped his lips shut. “I saw the way you treated your own injuries down there. You clearly have the experience to help San, so please just use your knowledge to help him. I know we’ve treated you like filth, and you don’t owe us anything. But please, we need your help or he’s going to bleed out,” Yunho practically pleaded, much to Hongjoong’s disbelief. 

When Seonghwa didn’t immediately throw the words back in Yunho’s face, Hongjoong’s shock only grew. Every word this man had ever spoken to him had been spiteful, and Hongjoong would have expected him to laugh in the face of Yunho’s desperation, to twist the knife and enjoy his newfound control over the people who had treated him like dirt. 

So when the laughter didn’t come, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it, and it pissed him off to wonder if perhaps the others hadn’t seen the same person Hongjoong had been confronted with multiple times. Wooyoung had cried on his behalf, and Yunho had shoved Hongjoong into the wall when he had seen his treatment of Seonghwa… why? What was he missing - why did he suddenly feel like he was the only one who didn’t understand?

Hongjoong leaned into his rage, unwilling to confront such thoughts when San was still fighting for consciousness. “Help him now, or I will dump you into the water and leave you there. You claim to await death, but no one wants to drown,” he threatened, desperate to put an end to this stalemate. 

“You continue to be wrong about me, captain. I know I’m going to die here, and death out on the open sea is no worse than death in this hellish place. You might as well throw me over now, because in the time we have been standing here he has lost a dangerous amount of blood.” Hongjoong stiffened at Seonghwa’s words, his eyes darting back towards San and alarm chilling his skin as he registered how the pool of blood had grown. 

He needed to put an end to this, but none of his threats ever seemed to stick with this man, and they were running out of time. Hands beginning to tremble once more, Hongjoong wracked his mind for a trump card and found nothing but cobwebs, his panic flaring. 

“Please.” The word was no louder than a whisper, but Hongjoong swore it rang in his ears like a scream, Wooyoung's desperation so tangible it threatened to swallow the deck whole. “Please help him. I know you hate us, but please .” His voice broke off, a tear tracing a path down his cheek. “I can’t live without him.” Hongjoong’s heart ached so viscerally that his eyes prickled, for he knew just how true Wooyoung’s words were. The two of them had been inseparable for years, and never did Hongjoong expect to see the day they might be forcibly torn apart. 

Wooyoung turned back to look down at San, stroking the back of his hand along the boy’s cheek tenderly. Another tear fell from his eyes, this time splashing onto San’s forehead, and Hongjoong suddenly had to swallow back bile. Their love couldn’t end like this - a sweet love like theirs couldn’t be extinguished by the weight of blood and violence. 

“I love him, you know. And I know that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it could .” Wooyoung redirected his gaze back to Seonghwa, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but hang on his every word. “There’s a heart in there, and I know you’ve buried it deep down to protect yourself, but choose to listen to it just this once. Please.” 

His last plea was no more than a breath, but his stare remained fixed on Seonghwa. Tears were freely running down the boy’s face now, and Hongjoong couldn’t believe that Wooyoung had spoken so shamelessly, his face open and raw with despair. His words seemed to echo long after he finished speaking, and Hongjoong tensed his wrist, preparing to dig the knife deeper as soon as Seonghwa said one scornful word against the boy. 

“Wooyoung, he’s incapable of even considering what you just said. I’ve told you, he cares for nothing, and your words aren’t going to change that,“ Hongjoong started to explain, for he knew that Seonghwa’s wrath would crush him. Wooyoung truly believed that good existed in the heart of every person, and though Hongjoong knew firsthand how false that was, he didn’t want the boy to lose another piece of his innocence. “I don’t want you getting hurt-”

“I’ll do it,” Seonghwa murmured, three words that held more weight than should have been possible. 

Hongjoong’s grip on the knife slackened in surprise, his heart stuttering in his chest as he struggled to process what had just happened. He had been so sure that Wooyoung was about to have his hopes shattered - he had been prepared to splatter the deck with Seonghwa’s blood, but now he could only struggle to regain his breath as he saw his own surprise reflected in the faces of his crew. 

The only person who didn’t seem the slightest bit shocked was Wooyoung himself, a small smile on the boy’s lips even as another tear dripped from his chin, mingling with the blood on the deck below. Despite winning this battle, Hongjoong had never felt more at a loss as he tightened his fingers around the knife again, numb as he held it to Seonghwa’s neck. “I’m not moving the knife - you can tell Yeosang what to do. If you try to pull anything, I will not hesitate to end your life right here.”

“I’m going to need to get closer to see the wound,” Seonghwa countered, and Hongjoong shoved him closer with more force than necessary, stopping once the arrow was clearly in view. He inspected it for a time before speaking again, this time directing his words towards Yeosang. “Judging by the amount of blood and the angle of the arrow, it’s safe to say the head is lodged right beside the bone. Our best option would be to remove the arrow here instead of moving him, because if the arrow shifts it could cause even more damage. Once we get the arrow out, we can move him to the infirmary and work on closing the wound,” he explained, his voice more composed than Hongjoong had ever heard it. 

Hongjoong didn’t pretend to know anything about medical procedures, and he was prepared to just stand there and focus on keeping his knife pressed to Seonghwa’s skin, but Yeosang addressed him next with clear unease. “Hongjoong, I know you aren’t going to like this but I don’t trust myself to be able to remove the arrow without severing a major artery or damaging the bone. I think we should let him do it.” 

Even as he spoke he seemed to cower, and Hongjoong let a heavy sigh escape his lips, not caring that Seonghwa would hear. “I won’t force you to do it, Yeosang. I understand.” For although Hongjoong shivered at the thought of Seonghwa probing into San’s wound, he also acknowledged that Yeosang seemed to be teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. 

He directed his next words at Seonghwa, his tone hardening. “You can remove the arrow, but I will have this knife against your back the entire time. If you so much as breathe wrong, I will not hesitate to sever your spine,” he threatened, and Seonghwa stiffened before nodding, the movement barely detectable, though Hongjoong supposed it had something to do with the knife at his neck. 

Pulling the blade away, Hongjoong quickly relocated his hand so that the tip pressed into Seonghwa’s bare back, the skin so thick with grime that he couldn’t even make out the knobs of his spine. Seonghwa shifted closer to San, and Hongjoong followed, keeping the knife firmly in place. 

Yunho ran off to get the supplies that Seonghwa asked for, the others moving out of the way to give him room to work. Only Wooyoung lingered, clearly hesitant. “You can stay. Hold his hand, it’s going to hurt when we remove it,” Seonghwa said to the boy, his voice softening, and Hongjoong couldn’t avoid his surprise as Wooyoung thanked him and grasped San’s hand like he would never again let go. 

Having Wooyoung stay by San’s side served no real purpose, as he would only be in the way, which meant that Seonghwa had simply made the offer to keep the two of them together. It went against everything Hongjoong had conditioned himself to think about the prisoner, and he hardly noticed as Yunho returned with the supplies and handed them off to Seonghwa, too submerged in his own thoughts. 

Wooyoung helped to give San some pain medication, though Hongjoong had used the same pills enough times to know that they wouldn’t do much to combat the worst of the pain, and his chest ached in sympathy for the boy. He knew the pain of an arrow wound, and the removal was never pleasant. 

Pressure pushed back against the knife, and Hongjoong hadn’t even noticed that Seonghwa had sat back on his heels before beginning his work, the tip of the blade digging deeper into the skin of his back. “Be careful with his back, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said passively, most of his focus directed towards the boy he loved, but Hongjoong grunted and obeyed just the same. The knife still touched the skin, but not deep enough to draw blood. 

Between the sling and the grime, Hongjoong couldn’t even see the skin, but he assumed that Seonghwa had given some indication of pain for Wooyoung to say something. For the first time since his capture, Hongjoong hadn’t actually intended to cause him pain, and he made a point to keep an eye on Seonghwa’s movements to avoid doing it again - only because he didn’t want to affect San’s treatment. 

Seonghwa began his work on the wound, and though Hongjoong had never been squeamish he resolutely stared at the knife in his hand, unwilling to watch a member of his crew in so much pain. The noises still filled his ears, screams and cries of pain, and he trembled with the restraint it took to allow Seonghwa to do his job. Knowing that the prisoner’s fingers were the ones causing San to scream like that, even though it was necessary… it made him want to wrap his hands around Seonghwa’s neck and squeeze until he turned blue. 

After a particularly animalistic cry that seemed to have no end, however, Hongjoong couldn’t stop himself from glancing around Seonghwa’s back. He regretted it instantly, for all he saw was blood slicked fingers embedded deep in San’s thigh, the shaft of the arrow slowly pulling out of the wound as San thrashed on the deck. Jongho and Wooyoung held him down as best as they could, but Hongjoong could see the clench of Seonghwa’s jaw as he tried to keep the arrow straight and avoid causing more damage. 

He forced his eyes away once again, the fist of his free hand clenched tight enough to draw blood from his palm, the liquid seeping under his nails. The entire process felt like it took hours, when in reality it had been no more than ten minutes before Seonghwa was dropping the blood covered arrow onto the deck and stretching his limbs to relieve the tension that had no doubt collected there. 

“Okay, it’s out. All we have to do now is stitch up his leg, which we can do in the infirmary,” Seonghwa announced, and Hongjoong let loose a sigh of relief, his entire body letting go of the stress. He wanted nothing more than to sink down against the deck until he could regain his composure, but San’s treatment wasn’t over, and he refused to let his knife down until Seonghwa was back in that cell. 

Yeosang’s relief was evident as well, and Hongjoong again felt guilty for placing so much pressure upon the boy. “Thank you for helping him, I wouldn’t have been able to do it,” Yeosang admitted, earnestly watching Seonghwa, who chose to remain silent. No snarky remark, no goading - just silence. Hongjoong kept expecting the facade to break, but it still hadn’t happened, and he couldn’t figure out the prisoner’s angle as they all rose to bring San inside the cabin. 

That is, until Seonghwa suddenly moved back, the knife again pressing deeper against his spine. “If you think for a second this changes anything, you’re wrong,” he mumbled for only Hongjoong’s ears, the contempt he had been waiting for. “I will never submit to you or any member of your crew.”

He spoke the words softly, but the strain in his voice betrayed his true feelings, and Hongjoong sneered as all of the anger came rushing back. All Seonghwa had done was continue maintaining his deception, manipulating the rest of the crew who were unable to see his true colors. Hongjoong knew the truth, had spotted it from the moment this enemy landed on his deck, and Seonghwa had no reason to pretend with him. 

“I could say the same,” Hongjoong countered, pouring his resentment into the words, keeping his voice low enough to prolong their brief moment of privacy. “You are still a prisoner to us.” Despite the doubts of his crew, Hongjoong would stop at nothing to keep this man behind those bars, and they both knew it. 

“If you think that insults me, you’re dumber than I thought,” came the prisoner’s response, and Hongjoong stiffened, unable to let the words roll off his shoulders. When it came to Seonghwa, he seemed to lose that ability entirely, for every single word that left the man’s mouth was enough to send him into a rage that took hours to come down from. 

The two of them followed after Mingi and Yunho as they transported San down the hall, and Hongjoong forced his pulse to stay within a normal range, not allowing his anger to show. Not now - not when San still needed stitches, and he needed to remain strong for the sake of the others. 

Once they were all in the infirmary, minus Wooyoung and Jongho who had remained out on deck, Yeosang dismissed Yunho and Mingi as well. They both casted worried glances in San’s direction as the door closed behind them, an eerie silence saturating the room in their absence. “It’s not much, but it works for us because our crew is small,” explained Yeosang for Seonghwa’s benefit. “Contrary to what you might think, we really don’t engage in battle often, so most of the time we don’t need any of this stuff.”

Hongjoong knew Seonghwa would never believe that, considering the stories that swirled between pirate ships about him and his crew. Their efficiency and brutality in battle had warped into tales of murdering innocents and setting fire to coastal towns, their ship searching the seas for other crews to wipe out completely. None of it was true - they very rarely attacked unless provoked, and most of their number were averse to violence in general, but there was no way to change the rumors that Seonghwa had undoubtedly heard again and again. 

A hiss of pain escaped Seonghwa’s lips, and Hongjoong kept the knife in place as he searched for the reason for the sound, remembering belatedly that the prisoner’s hand had been dripping blood on their way up from the cell. He was in the process of pulling a glove over the same hand, and Hongjoong could see how his fingers trembled out of his control. 

A strange feeling twisted in his gut, and Hongjoong chose to ignore it, looking down at the knife again as he inhaled deeply until the sensation went away. For a moment he had mistaken it for guilt, but Hongjoong possessed no regret for causing the prisoner pain - the only things he regretted were providing Seonghwa with a weapon and widening the rift between himself and his crew. 

He heard Yeosang offer to stitch up the wound, and Hongjoong bit his lip hard to keep his reprimand from escaping, for he knew he would only face consequences for it later. Seonghwa declined anyway, gathering the suturing material and asking Yeosang for supplies to clean the wound. 

Hongjoong only half paid attention to all of this, for San had passed out on the way to the infirmary, and he knew that the boy would stay unconscious through the pain of the sutures. His biggest concern was the knife in his grip, and he kept his focus trained on the blade, although he did pull back slightly when Seonghwa began to perform the sutures. Not for the benefit of the prisoner, but so that there would be nothing to distract his focus from stitching up San’s wound. 

He remained silent through the entire process, for despite his hatred for the man standing in front of him, he knew that this was the worst time he could possibly open his mouth. As he observed the speed in which Seonghwa snipped the thread and passed the needle through the skin, Hongjoong begrudgingly had to admit that he knew what he was doing, and he was grateful again that he hadn’t completely lost himself to his anger and killed the man. He was proving useful, as pathetic as he was. 

Once he finished bandaging the wound he took a step back, paying Hongjoong no mind as he stared down at his hand, flexing the fingers as soon as the glove was off. Hongjoong took note of how he seemed to waver slightly on his feet, and he applied more pressure to the knife to keep Seonghwa upright, watching his body stiffen once more. 

“Make sure you give San water and something bland to eat when he wakes up, which probably won’t be for a day or so. I’m sure you’re familiar with taking care of stitches?” The question was clearly directed at Yeosang, who nodded in confirmation. “Good, just treat his wound like any other one you’ve treated. It’s most important to keep it clean, you can’t risk infection out here,” Seonghwa advised, though Hongjoong figured that was quite obvious. 

Peeling off his own pair of gloves, Yeosang skirted around San’s cot and passed Seonghwa more suturing material. “You should stitch up your hand now,” he offered, and Seonghwa took the supplies wordlessly, Hongjoong watching the interaction with mild interest. Now that San’s treatment had concluded, his panic had lessened to normal levels, and he was able to be more present as Seonghwa rested his injured hand down on a vacant cot. 

He began to say something about needing to clean the wound, but Hongjoong had known it was coming, already reaching for the alcohol and setting it down beside the prisoner without sparing him a glance. His intention wasn’t to be helpful - he just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, so Seonghwa would stop wasting their supplies and return to the cell where he belonged. 

Thankfully, the process was quick, though Hongjoong couldn’t help but feel impressed that Seonghwa had been able to stitch up both sides of his wound with just one hand. The prisoner seemed to give in to his exhaustion as soon as he was finished, pressing a bandage over the back of his hand and rolling his neck, several pops sounding from the area. He threw the used supplies away, and Hongjoong prodded his back with the knife to get him moving, the three of them exiting the infirmary. 

The hallway was vacant, so Hongjoong assumed that the others had decided to wait out on the deck, and he guided Seonghwa in that direction. Hours had passed since the battle, and the sky had begun to dim, dusk creeping over the horizon and masking the glow of the sun as it sank. All four of the others sat together on the wooden planks, their focus redirecting as the cabin door opened. 

They all shot to their feet, each asking a different question, though Wooyoung’s voice cut through the rest as he stared at Seonghwa with desperation unveiled. “Is San okay?” He burst out, and Hongjoong tensed as he waited for Seonghwa’s answer, ready to snatch his hand and break a finger if he said anything to taunt the boy. Now that San was healed, all bets were off, and he was itching for an outlet for his pent up anger and stress. 

“Yes, he’s completely fine. The stitches are clean, and he’s asleep now,” Seonghwa answered with a weary nod, and Wooyoung visibly relaxed. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, and Hongjoong heard the prisoner clear his throat, not speaking another word to the boy. If he didn’t know better he would have said that Seonghwa held some sort of soft spot for Wooyoung, but such a thing couldn’t possibly be true. Seonghwa had used Wooyoung’s name as leverage before the battle in order to flare Hongjoong’s anger - he wouldn't have done that if he possessed a shred of care for the boy. 

The others continued to rattle off their questions, but Hongjoong couldn’t stop rolling the thought over in his mind, unable to understand why Seonghwa didn’t seem to hate the rest of the crew like he hated Hongjoong. None of them had physically hurt him, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still enemies to him, members of the crew that had stolen him from his old ship and wiped out his fellow pirates just hours earlier. 

It made no sense to Hongjoong, and he grew increasingly more agitated the more he tried to wrap his head around it, beyond frustrated with the man who stood before him. Never had Hongjoong struggled so hard to read a person - everything he had thought he knew had been drawn into question today, and he wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his quarters and come to his own conclusions in peace. 

“Does this mean he doesn’t have to stay in the cell anymore?” Wooyoung’s voice reached Hongjoong’s ears, and all of the movement from the crew halted immediately. Hongjoong snapped back to the present, watching as Wooyoung frowned at the reaction, continuing with indignance clear in his voice. “Hongjoong, he just saved San’s life! We can let him at least sleep in a real bed, right?”

Dread began to spread its way beneath Hongjoong’s skin, heavy and chilling as he felt the rest of his crew turn to look at him as well, the same question written in their eyes. Despite all of the arguments, the countless times that Hongjoong had made Seonghwa’s place on the ship clear as day, they still were naive enough to think that something had changed. 

He would have laughed if it weren’t so startling. 

Struggling to swallow, Hongjoong dug the knife into Seonghwa’s back in order to ground himself, not concerned about causing him additional pain. “He will be returning to the cell immediately. Just because he helped us today doesn’t mean he won’t betray us tomorrow,” he said flatly, leaving no room for interpretation in his words. 

Wooyoung burst out in protests, and Hongjoong struggled to tune him out, too weary to deal with this tonight. “Jongho, bring him back down to the cell. Don’t speak a word to him - his position on this ship has not changed, and you would all do well to remember that.” He finally pulled the knife away from Seonghwa’s back, tucking it down into his waistband and handing the prisoner off to Jongho, who did as ordered without protest. 

Bracing himself for another fight, Hongjoong took a moment to stare over the rails and out towards the sea, taking note of where the dimming sky and the darkening ocean met, the line of the horizon beginning to blur as day diffused into night. All of the sudden, the difference between the two planes wasn’t so distinguishable - sky became sea, and sea became sky, and what had once been clear no longer was. 

Deep down, Hongjoong felt the same way about the prisoner as Jongho guided him back down below deck. Now he had a name, and Hongjoong had caught a glimpse of who he could be beneath all of the hatred that only ever seemed to flare between the two of them. For weeks he had seen his perception as the only valid one, but now he wondered if such different sides of Seonghwa could exist at the same time. 

For just a moment, Hongjoong wondered if he had been wrong. 

Chapter Text

The next morning Hongjoong forced the entire crew to get to work cleaning the deck, with the exception of San who was still unconscious. Not a word was said between the six of them as they swabbed the blood from the wooden floor, but Hongjoong felt more than one pair of eyes fix the back of his head with a death glare, and he would have reprimanded them if he weren’t so exhausted from the events of the day before. 

Another full blown argument between himself and the crew - well, mostly himself, Wooyoung, and Yunho - had blown out of proportion once Hongjoong sent Seonghwa back down to the cell, and he felt more weary from the stress of that than the battle itself. Perhaps his only current source of joy came from knowing that Seonghwa’s former crew was dead, their ship long submerged by now. 

Which of course implied that Seonghwa could serve them little purpose now, another source of stress added to Hongjoong’s proverbial pile. If it were up to him, he would kill the man and remove the root of the rift that had separated him from the rest of his crew, but he also knew it wasn’t that simple. For some god forsaken reason, the others had grown protective of Seonghwa, and with time those feelings had only continued to flare instead of fizzling out like Hongjoong had anticipated. 

He stood in front of a crossroads, and the time remaining to make a decision was ticking away, carrying Hongjoong’s remaining sanity along with it. 

The next time he spoke a word aloud to a member of his crew was a few hours later in the cafeteria, another surface level discussion with Yeosang about where to sail now that they weren’t attempting to outrun an enemy ship. It would only be a matter of time until they were faced with another, for despite the size of the sea they always seemed to sail into trouble, but Hongjoong was grateful to no longer have to worry about an active threat to their safety. 

Other than the prisoner down in the cell with his knife, of course. 

“We could always take the path around this isle,” Yeosang pointed, tracing the route with the pad of his finger. “That way the current wouldn’t be-” 

The sound of the door being shoved open interrupted Yeosang’s train of thought, both of them turning their heads to find Wooyoung standing in the doorway, positively beaming. He didn’t so much as glance Hongjoong’s way, though that was to be expected, and he addressed only Yeosang. Hongjoong might as well have not been there at all.

 “Sannie’s awake!” He exclaimed happily, and Hongjoong shot to his feet, for his worry for San had not lessened despite all of the other issues pressing against the walls of his mind. He was overloaded with things to be concerned about, so he was relieved to let go of this one, needing to see San for himself. 

Yeosang seemed to understand that, nodding at Hongjoong to indicate that he should go first, and that was all it took for him to dart from the room and down the hall to the infirmary. When he arrived, he forced himself to push the door open gently, not wanting to startle the boy inside. However, as soon as he could see San sitting up on his cot with a tired but still bright grin on his lips, he threw the door open the rest of the way and rushed to his side. 

“How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain still - do you need medication? Do you want me to get you anything? Do the stitches feel okay?” He rambled, the questions tumbling free as he peered into San’s face, searching for any sign of discomfort. San squirmed at the attention, lightly pushing Hongjoong away with a laugh, and Hongjoong couldn’t deny how good it felt to interact normally with one of his friends after their argument the night before. 

“I’m okay,” San murmured, his smile reaching his eyes adorably, and Hongjoong’s heart swelled with love for this boy. Relief overcame his former worry, and he returned the smile, nodding in understanding. “Thank you for helping me - I couldn't have made it down to the deck without you and Yeosang.” His face fell at the memory, a visible shudder tracing through his body, and Hongjoong rested a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’ll never have to face something like that alone, you know that. I will never allow that to happen,” Hongjoong promised, and he noticed some of the tension flood from San’s frame. 

The thought reminded him of something, however, and he shot a glance back towards the closed door, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Speaking of not being alone - I’m surprised that Wooyoung isn’t back here by now. I didn’t think he would leave your side for the next month at least.” 

San shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, shaking his head. “I don’t know where he went, “ he claimed, voice a little too innocent, but Hongjoong was too glad to have him back to force the issue. He wanted to enjoy these few moments free of hostility, before San took the same stance as the others and effectively shut him out. 

Not that he was able to enjoy the peace for long, for only a few minutes of warm conversation had passed before San brought up the point Hongjoong had been dreading, his pleasant train of thought screeching to a bone crunching halt. 

“Is it really true that you locked him down there again?” San asked quietly, as if afraid of the answer, watching Hongjoong through hooded eyes. 

The room seemed overladen by shadow all of a sudden, and Hongjoong sighed, his throat burning with all of the words he forced himself to hold back. Not scathing words, but words of exhaustion, of self doubt and unease and fear, and he wondered just how long he would have until they collapsed the dam and came pouring out in one burdensome mess. 

He could only hope that it would happen when he was alone, so he could pick up the pieces with his own trembling hands and shove them forcefully back into place like nothing had happened at all. 

“It is,” Hongjoong admitted, swallowing thickly and staring down at his boots so he wouldn’t have to look San in the eye. “I had to, and I know that none of you understand, but I don’t care if you hate me for it.” He winced imperceptibly at the words, and he could hear San when he shifted forward, placing a gentle finger under Hongjoong’s chin to raise his head. 

The touch was so tender that Hongjoong startled, and San’s expression crumbled, his eyes shining for a different reason now. “You do care, though - you care so much that it’s eating you alive, this turmoil inside of you,” he murmured, voice strained. “How long has it been since one of us touched you with nothing but love? You’re breaking, Hongjoong, and we’re all so focused on the prisoner that we can’t even see it.” 

Hongjoong would have rather listened to him yell and fling cruel words, would have rather felt the harsh sting of a slap than the soft waver of San’s finger under his chin. He knew he was dangerously close to fracturing, and he felt as if he were observing his body from the outside as he stumbled back from the cot, San’s hand hovering where his face had been just moments before. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he barked, pain shooting through his chest when San flinched back. What the fuck was he doing - who was he becoming the longer he allowed these feelings to fester inside? 

The thought terrified him, and he scrambled to suffocate the feeling, eyes wide and panicked, his tone of voice all wrong. “Have you ever considered that maybe I am just this cruel? That maybe you’re searching for emotions that aren’t there, all so you can humanize the things I’ve done that terrify you?” A hollow laugh followed the words, sending a chill down Hongjoong’s own spine, for it sounded nothing like him. “I am not breaking - I am stronger than I’ve ever been.” 

He nearly collapsed with the force of the lie, his arms trembling at his sides. All he could see in San’s expression was sympathy, and one word repeated in his mind, again and again. Weak. 

“You’re scared,” San whispered, his face drawn, all youthfulness gone from his features. He looked old and weary, and Hongjoong wanted to cry out from the force of his own guilt. “You’re scared, and you’re hurt, and I am so, so sorry.” 

The words rang in Hongjoong’s ears, drowning out everything else, for all he could hear was the gruff voice of his father telling him that love was weakness, that he would never feel afraid if he cared for nothing. 

And for the first time in years, Hongjoong wished he could have been more like his father. For at least then he wouldn’t be suffocating in the bitter tang of his own fear. 

“Shut up!” He yelled, nearly choking on air as he tugged at his own hair, using the pain to ground himself. “You understand nothing.” His eyes burned, for the truth was that San seemed to understand more than Hongjoong did about his own feelings, and he was flailing under the tender scrutiny. Before San could say anything else, before Hongjoong was forced to confront the consequences of his outburst, he had already vacated the room. 

~

Unable to fall asleep, Hongjoong had sat at the helm and stared up at the stars until almost midnight, still struggling to process his brief but monumental conversation with San. Sometimes he forgot that he wasn’t the only one who took special care to observe his crew - San had clearly been paying attention to Hongjoong’s turmoil, and he had picked up on far more than Hongjoong had ever intended to let show. 

Recently, the only semblance of peace he ever felt was when he sat in front of the stars, the webbing of constellations reminding him that his problems were small in comparison to the cosmos. They still existed when the sun rose again the next morning, but in the night he could convince himself that he wasn’t so alone. He had never truly been alone, for the legends in the sky had always been watching over him, ever since he was a child. 

Yawning, he made the trek across the deck and back through the cabin door, knowing that he would only feel worse if he didn’t at least attempt to get some sleep. As much as he would have loved to stare up at the stars until the first rays of dawn broke through the darkness, he had to force himself away, the floor creaking beneath his feet as he entered the silent cabin. 

It should have been silent, but Hongjoong paused as he heard the light pattering of footsteps heading his way, for only one person wore shoes that made such a sound. That alone was enough to make his heart grow heavy, the memory of Wooyoung as a young boy easily rising to the forefront of his mind. 

The boy’s mother had always provided him with handmade cloth shoes, making him new pairs as he outgrew the old ones, and Hongjoong closed his eyes as he recalled the image of Wooyoung in his initial days on the ship, still wearing the cloth shoes his mother had made for him despite the blood that had seeped into the fabric. His mother’s blood, for she had died right in front of him, his shoes stained scarlet as what remained of her life splashed over his feet. 

He had refused to take them off, wearing them right through until they were no more than scraps, giant blisters forming along the soles of his feet. The shoes were clearly a piece of his past that he wasn’t willing to unhand, and Hongjoong had set their sails straight for the next port, paying a seamstress to make a new pair of canvas shoes.

Wooyoung had stared at the shoes in disbelief when Hongjoong had given them to him, his wide eyes ringed with deep purple shadows, fingers trembling as he removed the shreds of his old ones and slid on the new pair. Hongjoong had never been affectionate, or particularly warm, and he didn’t possess any of the other traits that Wooyoung typically sought out, but from that moment on the boy had loved him anyway. 

The footsteps drew closer, and Hongjoong opened his eyes, already feeling vulnerable at the memory. He blinked a few times, swallowing and setting his face back to its usual appearance. Wooyoung stopped when he realized he wasn’t alone in the hallway, and Hongjoong cleared his throat, raising a brow as he noted the plate of food in Wooyoung’s hands and the look of alarm on his face. “What are you doing up?” He asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer. 

“Uh, nothing! I was just with San in the infirmary,” Wooyoung answered, his feet shuffling awkwardly as he attempted to appear nonchalant. He was obviously lying, and Hongjoong wanted to just sink to the floor and never rise again, dreading where this conversation was headed. 

“Is there a reason you were headed in this direction, with a plate of food in your hands no less?” He pointedly glanced at the plate, unsure if he would rather Wooyoung attempt another lie or be honest about his intentions. Either way this would not go well - he could already feel the mounting tension filling the otherwise quiet cabin. 

“ I know you said I can’t go down there, but he’s not evil like you think he is! He helped San yesterday, and he even said something to me today. I trust that he won’t hurt me, and if you want to force me to leave, you’ll have to drag me away from here,” Wooyoung stated firmly, and Hongjoong stiffened, completely taken aback by the admission of trust. 

How could Wooyoung trust so easily - was he truly still that naive, even after everything? Hongjoong realized just how quickly everything was slipping out of his control, for if Seonghwa was speaking to the others then they would only start to feel closer to him, and his stomach constricted in panic. “Wooyoung, don’t be stupid. You have no reason to trust a prisoner,” he spat, the words harsh, though he knew that Wooyoung would never back down so easily. 

“Well, maybe if you gave him a chance and stopped equating him to no more than a punching bag for your misplaced anger, you would understand why I do!” Wooyoung raged, his voice rising as his indignance grew, the same old argument rising to a boiling point once again. 

Hongjoong scoffed, shaking his head crossly. “Misplaced? We brought him here to get answers and then dispose of him. I told you that from the beginning. Don’t get soft on us now.” This was the first time Hongjoong had actually stated his intentions out loud, and he could feel it in the air when Wooyoung snapped, eyes blazing as the veins bulged from his neck. 

“Do you hear yourself?” He nearly screeched. “This isn’t you! You don’t kill people who don’t deserve it! He is hurt, and he is broken, Hongjoong. Every time I say something to him, treat him like a person, he looks so confused and it breaks my heart! I don’t care what I have to do, you are not killing him. Not unless you want to lose me.” The skin of his face was beet red, his chest heaving as he glared at Hongjoong, daring him to drag this further. 

“Lose you? Where would you go, Wooyoung? San is hurt, and you’ve been with Yeosang nearly your whole life. I know you would not leave them here,” Hongjoong said coldly, challenging Wooyoung right back. The two of them were equally volatile when faced with one another, and without anyone else around to defuse the situation, Hongjoong could feel himself teetering on the edge of no return. 

“Well, they don’t agree with what you’re doing either. Maybe they would come with me,” Wooyoung retorted. “In fact, nobody agrees with you! You’ve always told us that we come first, that you would do anything for us, well guess what? Prove it! If you can’t spare him out of the goodness of your own heart, do it for me.”

He stormed towards the door, bypassing Hongjoong and pausing as he reached out for the knob. “I’m going down there now, and you can’t stop me. And if he ends up trying to kill me, you can gloat all you want. But that won’t happen, and mark my words, you’re going to realize you’re wrong.”

With those final words still lingering, Wooyoung shot him one last glare before treading down the steps, his shoes incapable of making a sound any louder than a light slap. The door slammed behind him, and Hongjoong was alone once more, standing in the hallway with his fists clenched and cruel words still on his tongue. 

His heart pounded against his ribcage, and he stormed back to his quarters, nearly breaking into a run in his desperation to get there and shut himself inside. When he finally reached the door he tugged it open with unrestrained force, his entire face hot as he closed it and turned the lock, pressing his back against the wood and sinking down to the floor. Now that he was alone he didn’t need to maintain his anger, and his entire body began to tremble as he covered his face with his hands, his breaths hitching painfully. 

For years he had told his crew, his family, that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for them, and he had done so too many times to count. He would die for them - he had put his life on the line to keep them safe more than once, and he would have welcomed death if it meant they would be able to continue to live. 

Those things came easily to him, for he had been taught to kill since he was old enough to hold a blade, and the first time he had wished for his own death hadn’t been long after. He had always thought that his willingness to take lives and give up his own for the sake of his crew was the deepest proof of love that he could give, but now he understood that he had been wrong. 

All this time, he had proven nothing, because the real test of love would be to refrain from killing on their behalf. To not kill when he wanted nothing more than to give into the bloodshed felt impossible, and though Hongjoong trusted his crew, the task felt far too daunting. It would be so easy to slit Seonghwa’s throat, to remove him from the picture entirely, and yet Wooyoung had made it clear that he just might lose them all if he dared to lay a finger on the prisoner. 

He hardly even noticed when his breathing became erratic, his throat aching as he tried to pull in enough air, a hand clutching against his chest hard enough to leave marks through his shirt. Wooyoung’s words repeated again and again in his mind, his assertion that Seonghwa was undeserving of all of this hurt, that he wasn’t the despicable enemy Hongjoong believed him to be. 

In this moment of vulnerability, his hands hugging his knees close as he just sat there against the door, Hongjoong couldn’t hide from the thoughts that slipped through the cracks in his resolve, the doubts and whispers that he had made a mistake. Could it be that he was driving the rest of his crew away simply because he couldn’t see past his own hate? 

Perhaps he hated Seonghwa so much simply because he hated what he recognized there; a heart so brutalized that it had absorbed its armor, not unlike his own. Hongjoong had suppressed his pain for so long that he couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be innocent, his earliest memories clouded with abuse and brutality. He never would have considered it normally, but as his breaths rattled in his chest he wondered if Seonghwa had experienced something similar. 

He had no concept of time as his body trembled there on the floor, his eyes moist and his lips firmly pressed together to keep it all inside. Despite how the contained emotions made his gut churn, his bones creaking as they tried to force their way out, Hongjoong was far too scared to shatter. Inhaling a shaky breath, he tried to think of anything else, his thoughts landing on the memory of Wooyoung he had conjured earlier. 

They had spent so many years together, but Hongjoong could still recall the moment he had first laid eyes on the boy like it was just yesterday, the mental image bringing tears to his eyes. He had docked his ship at the port of a small coastal town, not intending to stay for more than a few hours, but he had seen two boys on the beach and lingered by the shore to watch them. 

His fascination had stemmed from his own lack of a childhood, for as he watched them search for seashells and hold them up to the sun to compare with one another, he couldn’t fathom what it would be like to be so carefree. He could still picture how the afternoon sunlight had turned their skin to liquid gold, their eyes sparkling, for at that time in his life he had never seen anything more beautiful than those two boys.

Hongjoong had noticed the smell of smoke at the same time as they did, and when they rushed towards the city he followed, drawn to the boys for reasons outside of his scope of understanding. Walls of flame had already begun to consume the city when they arrived, and he had tried to force his way through the mobs of screaming people, desperate to keep the boys within his sight. 

His eyes fluttered shut at the memory, and he balled his fists loosely in his lap, all of his strength gone. He had found them just in time to watch a massive pirate stab Wooyoung’s mother straight through the chest. Her body had curved around the blade, feet lifting from the floor as the man skewered her in one thrust of his sword, her blood raining down onto the cobbles and saturating Wooyoung’s shoes. 

Trembling hands rose to cover his ears now as he recalled the inhuman scream that had torn from Wooyoung’s throat several seconds too late, his mind only registering that his mother was dead when her corpse fell at his feet, tendrils of blood clotted hair splayed over the ground like the twisted branches of an old tree. 

Hongjoong understood now why Wooyoung had been so distraught, falling to his knees and wailing over his mother’s body, but in the moment he had only been able to stare. As a child, he had only ever been privy to one type of parent-child relationship, and it had taken him years of freedom to understand that his father had been violently abusive, because that was all he had ever known.

Up until that moment, he had assumed that childhood innocence and love didn’t actually exist, that they were just tales from his constellation books. But as his chest began to ache strangely the more he observed, he realized that he had only ever felt such emotion before when reading his stories. 

Still in need of a crew, Hongjoong had set his mind upon saving the two boys then, completely unaware of how they would change his life. In that moment, he had vowed to himself that for them, he would become the person whom he wished would have saved him back when no one had.

He had always been a sanctuary for those two boys, slowly opening his arms to encompass all six of his crew as they fell into place, and for once in his life he had finally found a real home. And as much as he knew that they all treasured this family they had created, none of the rest seemed to feel the same way he did about the prisoner below deck, like he was a threat to everything they had built together.

No one else feared the loss of the special bond that existed between the seven of them, and Hongjoong realized that he felt most hurt because of that. He had done everything in his power to keep his family safe, to protect them and maintain their innocence, and now he had no choice but to wonder if they had ever cared as much as he did. 

Because if they had, then why were they so willing to throw it all away for a man they knew nothing about? 

~

From that day on, Wooyoung took it upon himself to bring Seonghwa meals three times a day, spending more and more time down there with each trip, and Hongjoong couldn’t do anything to stop him. Though still firm as ever around the others, Hongjoong was crumbling whenever he was alone, which was almost all the time. A line had been drawn, and Hongjoong had no choice but to watch as his crew kept their distance, some with sympathy and some with unconcealed anger. 

Hongjoong knew that he couldn’t kill Seonghwa like he had initially planned, for despite the way he had shrugged off Wooyoung's threat in the moment, Hongjoong couldn’t risk losing them. Perhaps he was being a coward, and weak, and all of the other things his father used to abuse him for, but Hongjoong knew he would never survive if they left him. Now that he knew what it felt like to love these people, he would rather die himself than be forced to live without them. 

All that remained was a stalemate like Hongjoong had never before experienced, his hands tied no matter what he chose, and so he continued to choose nothing, allowing the time to slowly progress without any change. Tensions built, and the wood of the ship creaked with the pressure of words unsaid. He endured nearly a week of this impasse before something had to give, and though he had felt it coming he still could have never prepared himself for the extent of the altercation, the worst by far. 

San had finally received permission from Yeosang to walk with the additional assistance of a crutch, and of course the first place he had gone was down to Seonghwa’s cell with Wooyoung, the two of them spending far longer down there than normal. Hongjoong had taken to sitting out on the deck whenever Wooyoung went to see the prisoner, the fresh air slightly grounding his worry as he waited for the boy to return, always dreading the day he would emerge onto the deck with Seonghwa’s knife embedded deep in his gut. 

In both wakefulness and sleep he was often confronted by that image, jolting free of sleep with ice cold sweat soaking through his pajamas, convinced it had been real for a split second as dread churned in his stomach. More than once he had divulged the contents of his stomach over the side of his bed, staring at the wall as his mind retreated until the sun rose again. 

Despite his fears, Wooyoung always returned with a grin on his face and an empty plate of food in his hands, and Hongjoong finally felt like he could take a breath once the boy was back within his line of sight. 

Now, he sat by the rails, feeling the sea spray mist over his skin as he stared down at a blank piece of parchment. He had intended to take stock of their supplies, but he couldn’t focus on anything while he waited for the two boys to return. Unease shifted in his gut, a feeling that had been there since he rose that morning. Somehow, even in those moments of peace before the storm, he had known that this visit to the cell wouldn’t go over like the rest. 

Nearly an hour had gone by when Hongjoong finally heard the cabin door open, his head snapping up at the first squeak of the hinges. Yunho and Yeosang were deep in discussion by the ship’s wheel, and Jongho and Mingi were cleaning out the cannons, so Hongjoong knew it would be Wooyoung and San returning from their time with Seonghwa before he even actually saw them. 

He expected the usual expressions - a smug joy as they bypassed Hongjoong to talk to the others, but as soon as he caught the first glimpse of Wooyoung’s face he was getting to his feet, heart stuttering. Even from a distance he could see that Wooyoung’s eyes were rimmed with red, the sun catching on dried tear tracks as he turned to hold the door open for San. His shoulders were bunched in determination, and Hongjoong’s stomach sank when they turned his way, steps purposeful against the wooden floorboards. 

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung called as he approached, his voice strong with conviction. When he finally came to a stop just a few feet away, Hongjoong could see more closely that he had been crying, woe underlying the purpose in his gaze. San stopped right behind him, his face firm as well, although he lacked the same anger that seemed to be a part of Wooyoung. 

Standing firm, Hongjoong waited for the boy to continue, the seconds slipping by slower than raw honey. “I have had enough of arguing with you and getting nowhere. You are going to let him out of that cell - I’m fucking done with this. He should not be down there and if you would just pull your head out of your ass you would know that. You’re afraid, because you don’t want to confront what you’ve done, but guess what? You still fucking did it, and with each day that passes I lose more of the respect that I’ve always had for you.” 

He didn’t yell, but he might as well have, the words punctuated by so much barely restrained anger that Hongjoong wondered how it didn’t melt his flesh down to the bone. Hongjoong had no idea what had caused this particular outburst, but something about it felt different than the rest, a thought that made the hairs along his arms raise. 

“I am not afraid,” he seethed back, reminded of his conversation with San in the infirmary that day. They were beginning to see through his armor, and he hated it, desperate to cover his weaknesses from the people he loved. They wouldn’t love him anymore if they knew the truth of his past, the things he had done. 

Wooyoung laughed bitterly, throwing his head back in anger, his arms spread wide. In that moment he was massive, and Hongjoong felt so incredibly small. “Here we go with the lies - do you think we still don’t know you, after all this time? That man down there scares the shit out of you, and you’re too much of a coward to do anything but turn him into a monster in your mind to justify your hatred for him. But the only real reason for your hatred is because you know, deep down, that he did nothing to you, and it’s easier for you to hate him than come to terms with how much you hate yourself.” 

The words were wielded like a whip lined with carefully placed barbs, and Wooyoung was relentless in his assault, the others watching from a distance as if his aura was too intimidating to approach. Facing the full brunt of this Wooyoung, so different from the sweet boy who had been collecting seashells on the beach, Hongjoong felt stripped open, more exposed than they had ever made him feel before. 

The last person who had made him feel like this was his father, and seeing similarities between him and Wooyoung was simply too much for Hongjoong to bear. Wooyoung was supposed to be his - never had Hongjoong expected his image of the boy to be tainted by his memories of the man who had turned him into the monster he was now. 

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Hongjoong spat, clenching his hands to hide how badly they were trembling. “After all I’ve done for you-” 

“Don’t start with that shit,” Wooyoung yelled, his eyes flaming as he took a seemingly unconscious step forward, like his anger had fully taken over. “If you really cared about me, you would make an effort to listen! I don’t think you even realize how badly it hurts when you throw the past in my face - I know what you’ve done for me, but that changes nothing. I don’t want to fight with you, but you give me no other choice when you won’t hear a single word I say!” 

“Oh, and he does?” Hongjoong sneered, stepping closer as well, their chests just a hand’s span apart. “He listens to you? I hate to break it to you, but he has no other choice. You claim that he doesn’t deserve any of this, but I see right through you. You were probably the easiest one for him to deceive - all it took was a little bit of attention to hook you like a fish.” 

Dimly, Hongjoong registered that he was crossing a dangerous line, escalating the argument far beyond the man in the cell, but amidst the heat of his anger he didn’t care to stop himself. 

“You are only this naive because I have spent years protecting you. You don’t understand how the world works, because when your mother could no longer shield you, I did. The prisoner is using you, and all he needed to do was let you blabber at him to earn your trust, get you to fight his battles. If you would open your eyes and stop being so fucking stupid, you would understand that.”

The words were so cruel, the worst thing he had ever said to the boy in front of him, all of it fueled by self hate so sickening that he couldn’t bear it. Hongjoong bared his teeth, expecting an instant outburst, but it didn’t come right away. 

Silence suffocated all sound as Wooyoung stared back at Hongjoong like he was a complete stranger, his eyes brimming with tears, a look of disbelief warping his features. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered with a shake of his head, lips quivering, Hongjoong’s words taking him by complete surprise.

San placed a hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off immediately, his face settling back into a mask of anger even as hot tears rolled from his eyes and down his cheeks. And Hongjoong still said nothing, refusing to take back what he’d said, banishing the guilt from so much as touching his thoughts. 

Faster than Hongjoong could register, Wooyoung was suddenly upon him, palms pushing hard into his chest and sending him stumbling back into the railing. “You fucking dare to mention my mother - who do you think you are?” He practically screamed, a sob following the question, his eyes so filled with tears that it was a wonder he could see at all. “I’m looking right at you, but I don’t even recognize you.” 

Wooyoung spat at Hongjoong’s feet, approaching him again, angrier than Hongjoong had ever seen him - angrier than Hongjoong had thought him capable of. “You can say whatever you want about the man down there, but he would never say what you just said to me. He listens to me because he sees right through me, yes, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing! He is gentle, and kind, and every bit the antithesis of what you have become. I had always assumed that I would choose to be by your side forever, but I don’t know if that’s true anymore and it’s breaking my heart.” 

Closing his eyes and inhaling shakily, Wooyoung shook his head, as if he were forcing the emotions away. “No,” he said coldly. “I refuse to cry for you - you don’t fucking deserve it. All you know how to do is kill, and I always looked past it because I love you, but I can’t anymore. I know that the man you’ve trapped down there in the cell has done nothing to deserve this treatment, and I can’t tell you why, because it’s not my story to tell. But now I know that your trust has only ever been conditional. You don’t really trust me - you don’t trust any of us if what we believe goes against what you want.” 

He took another breath, the air rattling in his chest, his tears still falling freely despite his earlier assertion, and Hongjoong swore he could see the moment that Wooyoung couldn’t do it anymore. His shoulders slumped, his facade cracking as his face crumpled, eyes red and cheeks wet. He fell to the deck, hiding his face in his hands as he shook his head repeatedly, again and again. If the circumstances had been different, Hongjoong would have told him to stop so he wouldn’t hurt his neck. 

Ignoring his injured leg, San sank down behind Wooyoung and wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist, whispering gentle words as he looked up at Hongjoong. His expression was ice cold, and Hongjoong knew he had stepped beyond the point of no return this time. 

“Do you even really love us?” Wooyoung asked through his sobs, the question wet and hitching and so full of pain that Hongjoong could do nothing but stare at the two of them, his mind going completely blank. His anger faded, and there was suddenly no buffer to the guilt as it flooded his entire body, his hands shaking so badly that he knew the others would see. 

“Wooyoung, you know that I do-” 

“Do I?” Wooyoung interrupted, tears dripping from the ledge of his jaw and soaking into his shirt. “I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure. We’ve fought loads of times, but this has been different and you know it.” 

Hongjoong did know, and he averted his gaze, too cowardly to even look at the boy he had hurt this much. “You’ve always been closed off, and in the beginning I assumed that you would open up to us one day, but as more time passed I started to understand that you were never going to. And that was fine - I was determined to love you anyway, because I thought I knew the kind of person you were,” Wooyoung explained, pressing his trembling lips together as if searching for the right words. 

“I want to believe that I still do - that you’re still that person. The man who checks on us in the crew quarters when he thinks we’re all asleep, just to make sure we’re okay. The man who can’t bring himself to hug us, but shows his love through his attentiveness, his care. But in the last few weeks, you’ve changed so much that I can’t be sure. And I hate that.” 

Voice breaking, Wooyoung stared up at Hongjoong, pleading with his eyes. “I know you’ve been hurt in the past, before you found us. And I don’t need to know the details, that’s not what I’m saying, I just - I want to understand. Because otherwise, it seems like you’re being cruel without reason, and I know that’s not you.” 

Completely frozen in place, Hongjoong couldn’t force his mouth to move, his body numb as Wooyoung saw straight through everything he had tried to hide. He had spent so much effort on being strong, hiding his cracks around his crew, but it had all been for nothing - they had always known the feelings that he hid away, and now all he could feel was shame. 

He knew what it all must look like to them - they didn’t see it when he broke down, when he crumbled beneath the weight of his own hatred, his guilt. To them, he had been firm in his awful treatment of Seonghwa, never budging even as the prisoner’s skin grew sallow, his bones visible through his skin. He had hurt someone who couldn’t defend himself, and even after Seonghwa had saved San’s life, he still hadn’t even considered the idea of mercy. 

Hongjoong had always been different from his father, always hating the man for how he lived with no regard for those who couldn’t defend themselves against him, but now he realized that the image of himself the crew had seen the last few weeks was a carbon copy of that man. 

“I can’t trust him,” Hongjoong said suddenly, his voice raw. “I can’t allow him to walk free on this ship, to infiltrate the life we have here. What we have is ours, and he was our enemy, regardless of where he stands now. With each of you, I saw someone who needed help, someone so hurt that they had nowhere else to go, no fight left inside. He isn’t like that - when I look at him, I don’t see that.” 

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t there,'' came a new voice, and Hongjoong was surprised to find that it was Mingi. The mechanic fiddled nervously with his fingers, not meeting Hongjoong’s eyes as he continued. “I am the only one here who has never been down there with the prisoner - I’ve never spoken to him. And I really don’t know what to believe, but when he helped San that day I couldn’t help but think, from just looking at him, that he was all of those things you just described. 

Mingi shrugged, as if to lessen the significance of his words. “But I also understand how you feel. You guys are my family - you’re all I have, and I wasn’t too keen on the idea of letting this man we know nothing about live among us. But after I saw him, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I wondered if maybe I was being too harsh. 

“I had spent so much time thinking about how he wouldn't belong, that I didn’t consider the space he might be able to fill . Maybe we don’t know it yet, but he might make our lives out here better.”

But how could that be possible? Seonghwa had always been vicious to Hongjoong in return, flinging cruel words right back at him whenever they interacted. 

How could Hongjoong envision a life where he would be anything but an intrusion? 

His head spun with all of the different emotions that had been stirred up ever since Wooyoung and San’s arrival, and he was too tired to feel any of them anymore. He was sure that the argument would be revisited once they had all recharged, but for now he could see the weariness on the face of each member of his crew, and he knew it was reflected upon his own features. 

“I’m trying,” Hongjoong whispered, breaking the silence despite the low volume of his voice. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I can’t offer you anything else.” He felt completely hollow, watching as Wooyoung stirred from his position on the ground, slowly getting to his feet and wiping his nose with his sleeve. He looked so little, and Hongjoong wanted to hide him away from the perils of this life, although he knew that he was the source of it all. 

“I want to believe you,” Wooyoung said, his tone bogged down with sadness. “But that’s not good enough.” His brows furrowed in pain as he helped San to his feet, as if the words hurt him to say just as much as they hurt Hongjoong to hear. 

He didn’t say anything else as he headed for the door, steps slow as he walked at San’s pace. With uncertain looks in the direction of their captain, the rest of his crew began to follow as well, their choice clear as they left Hongjoong out on the deck alone. 

Again, he was alone with only his thoughts for company, and he sank to the floor as soon as the cabin door closed, unable to hold himself up any longer. 

For a long while, he could do nothing more than blink, his eyes fixated on a knot in the wood a few inches away from his left knee. He focused his mind on the knot, until the part of him that wanted to allow the raging sea below to sweep him away finally receded, leaving him with nothing but the skeletons of his former emotions. 

Too numb to truly feel them, he merely observed what was left of them. The remains of his anger was now a pile of broken and burned sticks, the fire long since extinguished. His guilt, once as heavy as an anchor, could no longer weigh him down now that the sea of hate had evaporated, salt crusting the grooves of his mind. Within the graveyard of his mind, he could only feel a whisper of what he had once felt, a touch so light he wondered if it had ever truly happened at all. 

All of the words he had heard and said had blurred together now, just one small piece remaining solid, hanging over his dead emotions like the entryway to a cemetery. 

All you know how to do is kill. Wooyoung had no idea how correct he had been, and the words filled his otherwise empty mind, bringing back a story of his past he hadn’t allowed himself to think about since his initial freedom.  

Hongjoong had killed for the first time at five years old. He revisited the memory now with a sense of detachment, like he was merely watching it happen to someone else. Like he was being told a story, only the little boy in question was actually him, the events vivid as they had been the day it had happened. 

~ 

Secluded in his cramped room deep within the naval base, Hongjoong raised his head when the door creaked open, the ominous sound alerting him before his father came into the room. He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding against his chest as he wrung his hands together, a chill running down his spine as the cold air from the hallway outside blew in as well. 

Young as he was, his father seemed like a truly massive man as he dominated the doorway, and he watched with eyes wide as another man was tugged into the room as well. The newcomer’s hair was matted and dull with knots, his skin dirtied and his back hunched, a stench clinging to his skin that Hongjoong could smell from his place across the room. His clothing had been worn to near threads, and lines webbed all along his deeply tanned skin, evidence of a life lived out in the open. 

This man had never been restrained to one small room - he had seen the world, Hongjoong could tell just from the sight of him, and longing mingled with his fear. All Hongjoong had ever seen of the world was limited to what he could see from the window, and he found it hard to believe that it was such a small portion, that so many different places and people existed outside of his realm of sight. 

Shoved to the floor with force, Hongjoong could hear the breath of air that escaped the man’s lungs as his father’s boot pressed down hard on his spine. He didn’t understand what was going on, why his father had brought someone else up here with him, but he knew it could only mean something terrible. His father never visited him without intending to hurt him in some way, to make sure he knew his place. 

“You,” his father called gruffly, and Hongjoong stiffened, for he knew that he was the one being addressed. In all his life, his father had never referred to him as his son, and it had taken him a long time to even understand that they were connected by blood. He had never known his mother, nor anyone else connected to him in that same way - no one but the man who towered over him now, face as cold as the window pane during the winter. 

Perhaps if he possessed more strength, he would try to defy his father, to ask questions about his mother and the rest of his family - if they even existed - but Hongjoong was weak. He knew that just like he knew it was sunny today, the light coming in through his window and leaving a rectangle of warmth on the ground. If he had been alone, he would have sat there for most of the day, wondering what it would feel like to know the touch of the sun without a layer of glass in between. 

“Yes, sir?” He asked, his voice high in pitch and childlike, and his father wrinkled his nose at the sound. Hongjoong cleared his throat, looking down at his feet, clad in threadbare woolen socks. He could see the tip of his left big toe poking out from a small hole, and he wiggled it, swallowing the giggle that threatened to escape. It shouldn’t have been funny at all, but Hongjoong spent so much time alone that he had learned to draw amusement from the smallest of things. 

The man on the floor suddenly let out a strained yell, the sound tearing from his throat, and Hongjoong nearly flinched out of his skin at the sudden volume. Horror soaked into his skin as he realized his father had stomped down on the man’s arm, and he must have snapped the bone clean in two, a cruel smile finding its home on his lips. Hongjoong’s father looked most alive during moments like these, and Hongjoong was still naive enough to hope that he wouldn’t become like that. 

“Every time you smile, this man suffers. You should understand that by now. Though, I suppose I did bring him here to teach you a lesson that will help that message to… sink in.” Hongjoong hated the way his father’s lips curled, hated how his own smile looked so similar. 

Several times in the past, he had spent hours sitting in front of the window once it became dark enough to see his own reflection, shaping his lips into a smile despite how foreign it felt and feeling disgust churn in his gut as he saw his own resemblance to his father. He had tried and failed, again and again, to change his smile, but it was a part of him just as much as the blood coursing through his veins. 

Hongjoong nodded frantically, already feeling his eyes begin to prickle as he stared down at the man on the floor, too horrified to tear his eyes away. The man had quieted down, but his breath tore raggedly from his throat, and he fixed Hongjoong with a glare as he tried to struggle his way free. Underneath the glare was something else, though - disgust mingling with sympathy as he observed the relationship between the head of this branch of the navy and his five year old son. 

Reaching down into his belt, Hongjoong’s father removed a small blade, the wickedly sharp metal gleaming under the one lightbulb adhered to the ceiling. Hongjoong knew enough from his lessons to identify it as a throwing knife, though for a child of his size, it would fit in his grip like a regular knife. 

Pinching the blade end between his fingers, he extended the hilt in Hongjoong’s direction. “Take it,” he ordered, and Hongjoong darted forward to obey, too cowardly to go against a direct order. The hilt felt cold and heavy in his palm, and he wrapped his small fingers around it, his grip awkward. He had learned about lots of weapons, for his father sent plenty of tutors to teach him the things he would need to know in order to take over his role one day, but this was the first time he had actually held one. 

Hongjoong stepped back again, holding the knife out in front of him, staring at the honed edge of the metal with apprehension. He didn’t want to hold this weapon in his hand - he knew what it was capable of, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone. Still, his father had made the order, so he couldn’t do anything else but stand there, his arm trembling. 

“This man is a pirate - I understand you have learned about them in your lessons,” his father began to explain, and Hongjoong couldn’t believe his ears. All he had heard about pirates constantly from his tutors was how terrible they were, how dangerous and morally ambiguous and dirty, and in his mind he had always pictured them as shadowed monsters, perusing the seas and wreaking havoc whenever they pleased. 

But this man was just… a man. He didn’t seem to be any of those things, and despite the defiant set of his features Hongjoong could see the fear there as well. Fear was the emotion that he knew best, and he wanted to help this man, to let him know that he wasn’t the only one who felt scared. His father would surely beat him for it, but he hated the way his heart hurt as he imagined how the pirate must feel. 

“He is a criminal, and he must be brought to justice. This man has been put to death, and I usually execute such orders myself, but it’s about time that you do more than just learn of your duties through books. You are old enough now to learn what is expected of you, and because of your wealth of shortcomings, you leave me with no choice but to teach you in this manner.” 

Hongjoong didn’t understand what his father meant, and his brows gathered in confusion even as dread creeped up behind him, for he knew it couldn’t possibly be good. His father’s visits always meant pain, whether it be physical or mental, and Hongjoong began to falter before his father could explain further. “What do you mean?” He asked, voice shaking, and his father’s eyes flashed. 

“Pull yourself together!” he barked, and Hongjoong flinched, trembling harder even as he tried to stop it, the knife in his hand unable to be kept still. “This is why I need to do these things to you - you are weak, and I am doing you a favor by wasting my time trying to turn you into what is expected of you. You continue to be brainless and naive, despite all I have done for you.” 

The words were nothing Hongjoong hadn’t heard before, and he tried to stand up straighter, though all he wanted was to curl up in his bed and hide under the covers. “I’m sorry,” he responded, trying to keep his voice level, forcing himself to look his father in the eye. “I will be better.” The same things he said, over and over again, though he never seemed to improve enough. 

“Today, you will use that knife I gave you, and you will kill this man. We will stay here for however long it takes for you to do it - just a cut to the throat, that’s all it will take. You will decide how difficult this will have to be, but it is in your best interest to obey me now.” Hongjoong’s entire world tilted at the orders, his mouth falling open as he stared between his father and the pirate on the floor, feeling smaller than ever before. 

He knew what an outburst meant, and he had been so good about not protesting, but he couldn’t help it - he couldn’t kill someone, no matter how evil his father claimed the man was. “No!” He burst out, shaking his head repeatedly, backing away from his father. “You can’t make me kill him! I can’t - I won’t hurt him, and you can’t make me do it. No one deserves to be killed, and I don’t think he’s bad!” 

The words all came tumbling free, and Hongjoong could feel the pirate watching him, but all he could focus on was the rage that twisted over his father’s face. Speaking his mind always meant a beating, but this time Hongjoong had yelled, had thrown the orders right back at him, and he was already regretting it. 

“No, I didn’t mean - I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me, please, I’m sorry,” he started to babble, hot tears burning his eyes as his entire body trembled, terror consuming him completely as he waited for his father to retaliate. Vision blurred, he could barely make out his father grasping the already broken arm of the pirate twisting it and sending an animalistic cry of pain reverberating off the walls of the room. 

“You come back here,” he growled, “Or I will torture him here, and I promise you that he will suffer far worse than he would from a cut to the throat. Come here, and accept what you deserve.” Hongjoong closed his eyes, but the scream still penetrated his mind, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to fly away like the birds he watched from the window, to escape this room that had filled with the acrid stench of fear. 

He couldn’t stand the screams, the guttural cries of pain, and so he opened his eyes again and hesitantly approached his father, tears spilling down his cheeks. The tears made him weak, and he knew that he deserved whatever his father would choose to do to him, but he still had to force himself closer, nearly choking on his terror. 

Once within reach, his father’s arm darted out and grabbed Hongjoong’s wrist hard, pulling him closer. With his foot pinning the pirate in place, he backhanded Hongjoong hard enough to dislodge one of his teeth, blood splashing from his mouth as the tiny piece of bone fell to the floor. A cry escaped, pain blooming all along his face as his knees gave out, though his father’s grip kept him in place. 

“You will kill this man. And if you don’t, I will break your bones until you do. Starting with your fingers, I will break as many as it takes for you to finally do as I have ordered. So take that knife, and kill him now, otherwise I will begin, and you will wish you had obeyed me.” Hongjoong couldn’t inhale enough air, his head spinning as he looked down at the pirate, his tears falling freely now. 

He tightened his grip around the knife in his hand, but he couldn’t raise his trembling arm, couldn’t overcome the overwhelming voice inside of him telling him that he couldn’t do this. Even with the very real threat looming over him, he couldn’t make himself do it. He was too weak. 

A wet crunching sound filled his ears just before the agony washed over him, and he screamed louder than he knew himself capable of as his father bent his finger back far enough to touch the back of his hand, the bone snapping easily. His father was a grown man with a lifetime of strength under his belt - Hongjoong was only five years old, his bones still pliant, still growing. Breaking one of his fingers was no more difficult than splitting a match. 

Hongjoong had suffered beatings, had been covered in bruises and cuts and swelling, but the sheer brutality of what his father had just done completely stole his breath away. He was left gasping for air, barely managing to maintain his grip on the knife as the pain persisted, his cries endless. 

Dimly, he heard the pirate shift under his father’s boot, his unfamiliar voice breaking through Hongjoong’s screams. “Don’t do this - he’s a child. I don’t care if you torture me, do whatever you want, just - don’t do this to a fucking kid.” The words were directed at Hongjoong’s father, and Hongjoong watched him sneer through his blurred vision, not even gracing him with an answer. 

“Kill him, or I break another,” he threatened, and a long moment passed before Hongjoong shook his head, his father’s grip on his wrist the only thing keeping him from crumbling to the floor. 

“No,” he whispered, voice riddled with agony, though he knew what would follow. 

The pattern continued, and Hongjoong refused again and again, until all ten of his fingers were broken and he lay on the floor, waves of pain seizing his body. And still he refused, no tears left to cry as his father snapped his right wrist first, and then his left, just as easily as the fingers. Too dazed to think, Hongjoong briefly questioned how it could be so easy for bones to break, before the thought flitted away just as quickly as it had arrived. 

Never had he suffered like this, and he could hear the pirate thrashing against his father’s hold, yelling that this wasn’t right, that Hongjoong was just a kid. And that was true, but being a child had never been more important than being strong. He was approaching his breaking point, the pain worse than he had ever imagined, and it was after his father broke his right forearm that he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“P-please,” he protested weakly, broken fingers lighting up in agony all over again as he tried to grasp the knife that had clattered to the floor. He struggled a few times before he managed to grasp the hilt, the wave of pain strong enough to make his vision go black for a few seconds. “I’ll do it, j-just please stop.” He couldn’t believe the words had come from his own mouth, and a breathless sob followed as he dragged himself forward using the forearm that hadn’t been broken. 

He felt only half alive at that moment, and for the first time in his life he considered what would happen if he used the knife on himself instead. Would that pain truly be worse than what he was feeling right now? However, he was too young, too hurt to truly contemplate such an idea, and his sobs became more frequent as he dragged himself right up to the pirate’s side, shaking his head as his throat burned. 

“I’m s-sorry,” he cried, hating himself for what he was about to do, wishing he could peel off his own skin and become someone else. He could hardly see the man’s face, and he jolted when a rough hand touched his cheek, the calluses of a life well lived brushing over the skin of a child who would never have that chance. 

“It is okay,” the pirate murmured, and no one had ever spoken to Hongjoong so gently before. He wanted to wrap the voice around himself like a blanket, to feel that comfort for more than just a fleeting moment. “I am at peace. Do not let my death burden you - you did not deserve this. Just… give my farewell to the sea, if you ever have the chance.” 

The pirate smiled then - a real smile, one punctuated by smile lines, his eyes crinkling at the corners. One tear rolled over his cheek, and he pulled his hand away from Hongjoong’s skin. “Raise your knife - it’s okay. You can do it,” he encouraged, and Hongjoong’s lips trembled as he sobbed, raising his trembling hand and gripping the hilt of the knife as tight as he could manage with his broken fingers. 

In one movement, he drove the blade down, stabbing the pirate directly through the throat. Blood bubbled from the wound immediately once he pulled the knife back out, and the man began to choke on his own blood, his eyes wide in panic. His struggle didn’t last more than thirty seconds, but Hongjoong would remember it for the rest of his life, watching until no life lingered in the features that had been so alive just minutes before. 

~

Salt bloomed over Hongjoong’s tongue, and he hadn’t even realized that tears had begun to fall from his eyes, too immersed in the memory. He hadn’t thought of that pirate in a long time, but as soon as he had traded for this ship upon his initial freedom, he had sat by the helm for hours, turning his knife over in his hands and saying the final farewell the pirate had asked for. The very same knife he had used to kill his first man - the one that now sat down there in the cell, given up in anger to the prisoner down below. 

No one had ever been kind to him before that pirate, and Hongjoong had dreamt of this life from that point on, understanding that perhaps piracy didn’t have to be full of the treachery he had always been taught. He had only been able to become the captain of his own ship because of that man, and he said another choked thank you now, staring down at the waves below. 

Hongjoong felt so lost, so unsure of every move he made, and now the exhaustion surged over him all at once. He wanted to keep his crew safe, because he knew how cruel the world could be - he had experienced it firsthand for fifteen years. But at the same time, he wondered if his father’s cruelty had numbed him to the truth, if he had become a monster despite how he had tried to change himself for the sake of the six people he loved. 

He was at a stalemate with himself, one that would have to come to an end sooner or later. 

Chapter Text

A knock sounded on Hongjoong’s door, and he looked up from his desk, surprised that anyone would come to see him. Arguments raged constantly whenever he left his quarters, hence why he had been spending way more time alone in his room than usual. Logically he knew this couldn’t go on forever, but he would rather ignore the problem than choose a solution when he would lose either way. 

The legs of his chair scraped against the floor as he stood up, papers abandoned now that he had a visitor. Mentally, he braced himself for whatever today’s issue would be, nearly every interaction he had with any member of the crew always leading to the same inevitable escalation. He was so tired of being angry all the time, and when he pulled the door open to find Yeosang standing there, he was able to let go of some of his worry. 

Yeosang wasn’t as quick to anger as the rest of them, and Hongjoong beckoned him inside with a hand, hoping that his reason for knocking had nothing to do with the prisoner. He missed talking to his crew like they used to, and when Yeosang came right inside and made himself at home on Hongjoong’s bed, he felt a pang of longing deep in his chest. 

It had been so long since any of them had done something like that. Wooyoung and San always used to barge into his room without knocking, jumping on his bed and trying to cuddle him until he stood up, sighing as he tried to pull them off to no avail. He always used to pretend that he hated it when they did things like that, but now he missed it more than anything. 

“What’s going on?” Hongjoong asked, turning his chair to face the bed and taking a seat, eyebrows raised to punctuate the question. Yeosang didn’t seem to be particularly mad or upset about anything, so he chose to take that as a good sign, though that still provided him with no real answer as to why the navigator had come knocking on his door. 

“I just wanted to talk to you about something, and I figured it would be best if I just came to find you here, so that no one else could take over, I guess,” he said with a shrug, and Hongjoong understood exactly what he meant. Yeosang tended to be more soft spoken, and especially now that the others were so angry around Hongjoong, he was rarely able to get a word in. 

If someone else had walked in while they were trying to talk, chances are Yeosang would be left sitting there while Hongjoong argued with whoever had arrived. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened, and Hongjoong winced. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that now. No one would ever come here willingly.” It came out more bitter than he had intended, and Yeosang smiled softly. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Hongjoong had to smile in return, because he couldn’t deny that, relenting with a soft nod. “Anyway, I do have my reasons for being here, and I’m hoping with no one else around that we’ll be able to just… talk. Like we always do. Just because I don’t agree with everything you’ve done doesn’t mean that our relationship has changed.” 

He spoke the words like they were no big deal, but they meant more to Hongjoong than he could possibly understand. All he wanted right now was some semblance of normalcy, and Yeosang had brought just that directly to his door, his presence calm and unintimidating. “Thank you,” Hongjoong murmured, and now it was Yeosang’s turn to nod, his lips pursed like they often were. 

Part of his hair had been tied back away from his face, and Hongjoong could see the gentle slope of his cheekbones, the full shape of his eyes. He really was beautiful in a way so different from the rest, serene and unflappable just like how he held himself. “I went with Wooyoung to see the prisoner earlier today. I didn’t want to tell you beforehand, because I didn’t want to spark another argument when I’m sure there will be enough of that at dinner, but I just wanted to see for myself if all of the things Wooyoung and San have been saying are actually true.” 

Hongjoong felt the familiar burn in his gut at the mention of Seonghwa, but he managed to keep it at a simmer, for Yeosang had done nothing to warrant such a reaction. The others riled him up, too angry themselves to speak about things calmly, but Yeosang wasn’t like that. If this conversation escalated it would be his own fault, and he wanted so badly to have a regular conversation for the first time in days that he was determined not to let that happen. 

Exhaling through his nose, Hongjoong nodded. “You know my feelings on that, but thank you for telling me, at least,” he answered, for that was all he could bring himself to say on the topic. 

“I know, but that’s part of why I wanted to bring it up to you. You don’t hear most of the things that Wooyoung and San say about him, because every time any of you talk it blows so far out of proportion that you don’t even hear each other, but I hear all of it. The day I was supposed to take San’s stitches out, he marched right on down there and had the prisoner take them out for him instead - I know you didn’t know that, because if you did you would have exploded, but he did a better job than I would have. The scar is barely even visible.” 

Hongjoong definitely hadn’t known that, and the image of San sticking his leg through the bars was enough to give him a near heart attack, but he forced himself to keep listening, shoving down the anger that buzzed in his ears. “And Wooyoung is always talking about how he listens so well, and how he’s really a very kind person beneath the walls he’s put into place. I mean, Wooyoung really cares for him - like, in a special way. Different from how he cares about the rest of us, I think,” Yeosang pondered, casually sending a spike directly through Hongjoong’s chest. 

It’s not like he didn’t have his suspicions, but to hear the words said aloud proved that they were real, that it hadn’t all just been in his head. Hongjoong was losing Wooyoung, just as the boy had been threatening from the start - and he was losing him to Seonghwa, who had done nothing but sit in a cell and let Wooyoung speak. It wasn’t right, and he hated how out of control it made him feel. 

“Hongjoong,” Yeosang said gently, pulling him from the beginnings of his spiral, his eyes sad even as his smile stayed in place. “I’m not telling you this to make you upset, I just want you to have the full story. And the main reason why I came here is because I wanted to remind you of something, too.” 

Everything felt like a blur to Hongjoong, and he had absolutely no idea what Yeosang was referring to, unable to pick through his memories so fast. Either way, he didn’t think he could stand to hear another example of his shortcomings, of the times he had made mistakes and been too cold, too ruthless. He had heard enough of that lately. “I really don’t want to hear more stories about the things I’ve done-” he started to say, but Yeosang cut him off. 

“It’s about me, okay? I promise, it has nothing to do with you. It just reminds me of your situation right now,” he placated, and Hongjoong settled back into his chair, still on edge but not quite as ready to jump from his seat in protest. Taking that as a sign to continue, Yeosang did exactly that. 

“Do you remember when you first brought San onto the ship, how he and Wooyoung bonded so quickly? The two of them acted like soulmates from the beginning, finding exactly what they needed in each other despite knowing each other for such a brief time.” Hongjoong nodded, for Wooyoung and San had always been the perfect example of the kind of relationship he could never have - one built on nothing but instant connection and the same language of love. 

Hongjoong was not fluent in any love language, but he was content being the one without a pair on his ship - in fact, he was grateful that all of the members of his crew had a life partner, that he didn’t need to worry over that aspect. “I didn’t tell anyone this at the time, but I hated everything about it. I felt like San was stealing the person I was closest to right in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. For months, I acted cold towards both of them, because I didn’t want to confront the fact that I was jealous.

“Not jealous of the romantic part - I had never felt that way towards either of them, obviously, but jealous that Wooyoung wasn’t solely mine anymore. I felt like I was losing my best friend, and it hurt me so badly that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I lashed out at them both, and I distanced myself on purpose so that I wouldn’t have to watch them do it first.” He admitted everything with a soft frown curving his lips, shaking his head at the actions of his past self. 

“It took me so long to understand that just because Wooyoung had found someone he connected with didn’t mean that our connection had dimmed as a result. It’s possible to love more than one person at the same time, and that doesn’t mean that one love has to suffer so the other can thrive. There are so many different ways to love someone, and now I know that the way I love Wooyoung is nothing like the way San loves him, and the love Wooyoung has for each of us isn’t the same either.”

Yeosang shrugged his shoulders, expression thoughtful as he continued. “And I guess I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, because I think it relates to how you feel right now. You view everything as black or white, like we are either with you or against you, and you feel like no one is choosing your side. You feel like we all found someone shiny and new, and we’re leaving you behind in favor of him. Is that right?” 

Not prepared for such a targeted question, Hongjoong couldn’t answer right away, his face burning as he stared resolutely down at the floor, though that seemed to be all the confirmation Yeosang needed. “You don’t need to feel embarrassed - what I’m trying to tell you is that I know how you feel. I felt exactly the same way when San arrived on this ship, like he had just intruded and taken everything that I had spent years caring for. 

“We aren’t the same as someone like Wooyoung, or San, or most of the rest of the crew. Wooyoung has so much love to give that he will throw it at anyone who will accept it, and his heart is always open to welcome new relationships of any nature. But you and me, we hold what we love close to our chests. We treasure our people so deeply that when they bond to someone else, we feel betrayed. But that isn’t truly the case, and I didn’t understand until I opened my heart to San back then that I can build new connections for myself, too.” 

Hongjoong glanced back up at him, unsure of what to feel, his mind spinning with Yeosang’s words. “I’m not saying that you and the prisoner need to be best friends - I’m not even saying that you need to see eye to eye, or tolerate one another. All I’m saying is that just because members of your crew are coming to care for him, doesn’t mean that they care for you any less. And all they want is for you to understand that. I know that you hate this line in the sand, but you have to understand that you’re the one who drew it.” 

His words hung heavy in the air, and Hongjoong struggled to bear their weight even though he knew deep down that Yeosang was exactly right. He didn’t want to face the truth of his own feelings, but beneath all of the rage and fear and grief was a massive foundation of betrayal - of envy. Hongjoong hated that his crew had found something redeemable in Seonghwa, and he felt like he was losing them because of it, when the truth was that he had been the one to push them all away from the start. 

He had done this to himself, and the realization hurt worse than he wanted to admit. Part of him wanted to take it all back, but the other part - the scared part, the abused part, the slightly larger part - wasn’t there yet.

~

Used to the steady lull of the waves as he was, Hongjoong could never quite relax when the ship was anchored, always on edge without the constant presence of the ocean to keep him calm. Though the sun had only just risen, Hongjoong had been awake ever since the ship had come to halt, Mingi dropping the anchor to get a start on his scheduled maintenance day. 

Such days came every handful of months, but Hongjoong still felt antsy every time, a constant worry plaguing his mind that an enemy ship would ambush them while they were nothing more than sitting ducks. It had never actually happened, for they took care when scheduling the days so they could avoid such instances, but Hongjoong still knew he wouldn’t feel at ease until the ship had continued on its course. 

He had already resigned himself to spending the day out on the deck, and although it pained him to leave the safety of his room, he wanted to be able to offer Mingi help if he needed it. Mingi wasn’t too far gone - he would likely still accept, and Hongjoong hoped that maybe they would be able to act mostly normal around each other. Not to mention how the mechanic loved to talk while he worked, so all Hongjoong would really need to do was listen. 

However, just as he was finally getting out of bed, his door burst open. The shock of that alone was enough to make him sit abruptly back down on the bed, because no one had entered his room like that in weeks, and he certainly didn’t expect to find Yunho and San standing there with twin sheepish expressions on their faces. They all stared at each other for a few seconds, and Hongjoong had to blink a few times to make sure they were really there - with the lack of sleep he had been getting, he wouldn't have been surprised if his imagination had procured the sight of them. 

They didn’t go anywhere though, and Hongjoong opened his mouth eventually, wondering why they were both looking at him like that. “Um… is everything okay?” he asked, for he didn’t know what else he was supposed to say, and the two of them shared a glance before turning back towards Hongjoong. 

“Well… no one is injured. Or dying. So you could say that everything is okay and we did absolutely nothing,” Yunho explained, a pink flush appearing over his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck, and Hongjoong had known him long enough to be able to tell that he was hiding something. 

He sighed, getting to his feet again and resting his hands on his hips. “What did you do this time?” Mentally, he placed his bets - a fire in the kitchen? Or a collapse of the supply crates? Or perhaps another lost sea creature that they wanted to keep as a pet? 

San answered this time, speaking faster than normal as if that would prevent Hongjoong from understanding. “We were throwing a barrel back and forth in the cabin even though you’ve told us not to so many times, but we were having fun and we tried our best to be careful until Yunho threw it way too high for me to reach because he’s a giant and we may or may not have burst a pipe in the ceiling,” he blurted, cringing at his own story as he watched Hongjoong through squinted eyes, clearly heeding his reaction to their predicament. 

A broken pipe was definitely not ideal, and had it been a normal day he probably would have reprimanded them for playing a stupid game he had warned them about in the past, but he was too relieved that they were finally acting normal around him to mess it up. Plus, it was already Mingi’s maintenance day - they had chosen the right time to act like idiots, at least. 

“Why am I not surprised,” he remarked fondly, walking towards the door and sliding between the two of them, ruffling their hair on his way. He couldn’t keep the smile away from his lips, because it felt so good to treat them like this again. They followed at his heels as he left his room and headed for the deck, and he could sense their relief that he hadn’t been mad at them, which made his heart ache. All he had done lately was rage at everyone, so it was no wonder they had been worried. 

Emerging out onto the deck, Hongjoong spotted Mingi right away, currently nailing a loose floorboard back into place. The soft mumble of his voice was audible even from a distance, and the sound made Hongjoong smile as they approached. “Mingi, did you hear what these two did?” He called out, and Mingi glanced up at them in surprise, setting his hammer down on the ground and getting to his feet. 

“Yeah, they told me. Really awesome work guys, thanks.” He gave them a sarcastic thumbs up, and Yunho and San both giggled, clearly amused by the whole situation. Hongjoong rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t shake his smile. “I was planning on getting to that after I finish up here with the deck stuff, so hopefully it won’t leak for too long. I just don’t want to leave these floorboards without nailing them all down, since I know a few people who would be clumsy enough to fall right through.” 

He directed a pointed look towards the two culprits of the barrel incident, and Yunho and San at least had the decency to feign looks of shame, however fake they might have been. “That’s fine. Where is the leak, by the way?” He asked, for that was definitely important, and Yunho and San again glanced at one another.

“Uh… it’s over the storage room closest to the cabin door. But we moved the crates out of the way, so none of the stuff will get wet!” Yunho explained, and Hongjoong shook his head, because of course they had been throwing a barrel carelessly in the room that contained all of the supplies they needed to survive on a ship in the middle of the ocean. Of course. 

Another thought struck him then, however, and his exasperation dissipated as he chewed his lower lip for a brief time. “Does that mean that it’s dripping through to the cell room?” He asked, hackles instantly rising when all three sets of eyes fixed on him. “I’m not asking because I care - I just want to make sure we cover all of the bases.” His tone was defensive, the excuse rolling from his tongue easily. 

He didn’t want to tell them the real reason he had asked, because he didn’t want to deal with the implications. Truth was, he knew that Seonghwa had endured rough enough treatment for weeks, and he didn’t want cold water dripping down into his cell and getting him sick on top of things. Not because he cared, but because he didn’t want to deal with the increased barrage of demands he would be faced with if it happened. 

“Um, yeah, it probably is, but that’s okay - I’ll go down there once I’m done repairing the pipe and block the leak,” Mingi explained, and Hongjoong nodded once, knowing that he couldn’t prevent Mingi from going down there forever. He wasn’t quite sure when his mindset had changed, but he didn’t necessarily fear that Seonghwa would use his weapon on any of them anymore. Rather, he feared that they would draw further away from him with each visit, and he would lose them that way instead. 

While Mingi worked, Hongjoong chose to linger by the wheel with Yeosang, since the two of them hadn’t discussed navigation in a while. He kept an occasional eye on the mechanic, and he noticed when Mingi finished with the floorboards and headed into the cabin to fix the leak. 

Though he knew it would probably take a while for him to repair everything, Hongjoong couldn’t stop himself from checking the cabin door probably more times than was necessary. He wanted to hear of Mingi’s experience alone with Seonghwa, for that was perhaps the most unbiased assessment he would get, as Mingi possessed less loyalty to the prisoner than the rest of them did. 

However, when he did eventually return to the deck, he didn’t seem like he was finished with his repairs yet. His eyes were wide as he dashed towards where he had left the majority of his tools, rummaging through everything haphazardly, the sight alone making Hongjoong’s blood pressure rise. “Mingi, what are you doing?” He called, squinting in confusion. “You’re stressing me out just watching you.” 

The mechanic shook his head, finally standing upright when he found what he had apparently been looking for - a towel. Or, rather, two of them, faded but mostly clean. “There’s more water in the cell room than I thought, and I didn’t see the puddle in time,” he explained, his face pink with embarrassment. “I slipped in it, and I fell right on my ass in front of the man down there, and I splashed water all over him!”

Sure enough, as Hongjoong moved closer he could see how Mingi’s wet clothing clung to his skin, droplets of water dripping down onto the deck. “It was an accident, Mingi, it’s okay. Whatever he said to you doesn’t matter, he doesn’t know how clumsy you can be-” 

“No, he didn’t say anything to me,” Mingi interrupted, eyes earnest. “He didn’t even seem mad that he’s, like, completely drenched now. I just feel terrible that I barely was able to say a word to him before I made a total fool of myself and got him soaking wet.” 

Yeosang laughed lightly, nudging Mingi and telling him that it wasn’t a big deal, but Hongjoong hardly noticed as he mulled over Mingi’s words. Most people would have gotten at least a little bit annoyed after something like that - Hongjoong certainly would have, and he knew most of his crew would too. He had automatically assumed that Seonghwa would have thrown a scathing remark Mingi’s way, because he was always doing that whenever Hongjoong had interacted with him, and it shocked him to hear the opposite. 

Hurrying back down to the cell, Hongjoong watched Mingi disappear back into the cabin, returning not long after with a crooked grin on his face and his towels slung over his shoulder. He made a beeline for them, though he directed his stream of words towards Yeosang, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. 

“Yeosang, he was so nice! He thanked me for the towel, and he didn’t seem annoyed at all that I had gotten him wet. All he did was just listen to me ramble while I blocked the leak, but he talked a few times as well which I wasn’t really expecting. I don’t know why I assumed that he wouldn’t want to talk to me like he does with you guys - I guess because I’ve never made an effort to go down there, so I figured he probably thought that I was… a bad person, I guess. But he was really great,” Mingi gushed, the tips of his ears pink. 

As Yeosang said something in reply, Hongjoong just stared at the mechanic, unwilling to accept the things he had just heard. He had told himself that he would take Mingi’s perception of Seonghwa in earnest, but he hadn’t expected to receive such a stellar report, and his heart sank down to his feet as he stood there in silence, listening to his crew happily discuss a man who hated Hongjoong with his entire being. 

He was reminded of Yeosang’s story about San, about how Hongjoong’s feelings were likely similar, and he resolutely pushed the idea away. For him to be losing control to a man who had nothing… it couldn’t possibly make sense, and he felt like yanking his hair from the roots in his frustration. 

Hongjoong hated it, but he felt like he was losing his grip on his own resolve the more his crew branched away from him. Staying firm was becoming more difficult when every member of his crew said the same things about Seonghwa, and it was harder to shake the incessant thought nagging at the back of his mind that he had been wrong. It just couldn’t be - he didn’t even want to consider the idea. 

~

When Hongjoong arrived for dinner that night, he was surprised to find the platter of food steaming in the center of the table, but only two members of his crew seated at the table. He paused in the doorway, cocking an eyebrow as he stared at Yunho and Jungho, who raised their heads at the sound of his entrance. 

Rather than beckoning him to the table, their faces fell at the sight of him, and Hongjoong frowned. “What’s going on? Where are the others?” He asked, for the seven of them almost always ate their meals together, even with the current tension that persisted between them. A solemn energy permeated the room, and he shifted on his feet as he waited for their response, not understanding what was going on. 

Yunho cleared his throat, glancing at Jongho before ultimately deciding to spare the younger and say it himself. “They’re down in the cell. Wooyoung just finished making dinner a few minutes ago, and then they all headed down there with their own plates to eat with him. I tried to stop them, but… I didn’t push it, because it clearly wasn’t going to make a difference,” he explained, voice entirely drained, and Hongjoong’s heart ached in sympathy for him even as his head buzzed with anger. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he said harshly, his tone of voice making Jongho flinch. Despite his strong stature and prowess with nearly all types of weapons, Jongho appeared like he was trying his best to make himself appear small, like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Guilt suffocated Hongjoong’s anger at the sight, and he forced himself to take a deep breath, not wanting to hurt the boy any further. 

Shuffling forward, he took his seat at the table, though it felt wrong for there to be so many empty places. He was used to sitting with Mingi at his side, Wooyoung across from him as they all bickered and laughed throughout the meal. Now the entire room felt barren, and he could do nothing but fill a plate with food and idly poke at it with his fork, his appetite diminished. 

None of them said anything for several minutes, and Hongjoong felt near to bursting when Yunho finally spoke again. His first mate was normally so carefree, easy to smile and break down into laughter, but no remnants of that side of him could be seen anymore. Dark shadows spanned underneath his eyes, and his skin appeared sallow and pale, his lips tight at the corners. “Don’t be too mad at them,” he murmured, staring down at his food. “They just wanted to keep him company.” 

Hongjoong felt his chest squeeze painfully, and he stabbed a piece of meat with more force than necessary. “He’s been down there for weeks - why do they suddenly care about that now?” He asked through gritted teeth, and though he meant for the question to be mostly rhetorical, he received an answer a beat later. 

“Because they were trying to protect your feelings too, before.” Jongho’s voice was hardly louder than a whisper, and he looked close to crying as he looked up from his food to watch Hongjoong. “They didn’t want you to feel like they were choosing him over you, but I don’t think they care anymore. Clearly none of it made a difference anyway.” 

Hongjoong was surprised to hear guilt in Jongho’s voice, and he swallowed awkwardly, unsure of how to comfort him when he felt like he was seconds from a breakdown himself. They were all so tired of this, too tired to argue, to do anything more than speak in dejected tones, and Hongjoong was the only one who possessed the power to fix any of it. 

But if he were to do that, he would have to admit that he had been wrong all along, that he was a far worse person than he had ever realized. 

Dinner continued in weary silence, none of them saying more than a couple words to each other, until Yunho and Jongho eventually got to their feet and left the room. Hongjoong didn’t ask where they were going, just following the movement with his eyes until the door closed behind them, leaving him alone. He could distantly hear voices from below the floorboards, and he clenched his fork with more force than necessary, accidentally bending the metal. 

Had he been on good terms with Wooyoung, he would surely have been yelled at for that later, and he bitterly smiled to himself as he rested his head in his hands, eyes burning. He would give anything now for Wooyoung to berate him over something so small, because then at least the boy would be talking to him. Sitting in the cafeteria alone, Hongjoong suddenly felt overwhelmed by how much he missed them, vision blurring. 

Although it felt like torture to listen to his friend’s voices as they ate dinner without him, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the cafeteria and go back to his quarters. Instead, he just wallowed in his own self pity until he heard footsteps finally come up the stairs, laughter passing by the door to the kitchen as they all headed to the crew quarters in high spirits. 

Hongjoong waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore, for he didn’t want to see the happiness in their faces - happiness they had found away from him. He hated everything about it, and when he finally did depart the cafeteria, he chose to follow the hallway away from his room, stopping in front of the door to the cell room instead. Not quite sure why he was here, he just stared at the door for a while, recalling when he had done this same thing the first night of Seonghwa’s capture. 

Hoping that the prisoner had already fallen asleep, Hongjoong quietly pulled the door open, keeping his footsteps light as he descended just enough stairs to be able to see the man trapped behind the thick metal bars. Sure enough, Seonghwa sat back against the wall with his head slumped to the side, eyes closed and lips slightly parted in his sleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, Hongjoong peered closer, unable to shake his morbid curiosity. 

He hadn’t seen Seonghwa since the day he had saved San, and he found that he looked far worse now, even though it had only been a few weeks’ time. His hair hung limp over his face, scraggly and long, and Hongjoong thought he may have seen a few patches missing entirely, only the stark white skin of his scalp visible. His face was scarily gaunt, a portrait of pale white and bruised purple and the chilling veiled blue of veins webbing beneath the surface of his skin, so pale he was nearly transparent. 

Hongjoong couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that built within him, for Seonghwa looked like he had been down here a lot longer than he actually had. He looked like he hadn’t seen the sunlight in years, like he didn’t know a world outside of these bars, and a chill creeped along Hongjoong’s spine. Although he could see the steady rise and fall of Seonghwa’s emaciated chest, upon first glance the man had looked dead. 

And despite his sallow state, a burning feeling still built in Hongjoong’s gut, twisting and wrapping its fingers around his insides, consuming every part of him. He wanted it to be anger, or hatred, or any of the other emotions that he often chose to flare, but he knew that it wasn’t. This feeling was nothing but pure, bitter jealousy, threatening to incinerate his body from the inside out as he glared at the defenseless man in front of him. 

Seonghwa was the one behind bars, treated worse than an animal, and yet Hongjoong couldn’t extinguish the flames of his jealousy as they grew with each passing moment he spent in the prisoner’s presence. This was the man that his crew had abandoned him for just an hour before, the man they spoke about like he could do no wrong, like he was everything that Hongjoong had ever failed to be. 

Tearing his eyes away before he reached a breaking point, Hongjoong instead scanned the rest of the room, really taking in the conditions for the first time. Empty ration buckets sat just outside of the bars, filthy and crusted with remnants of the food that had once been inside. Dried blood and grime clung to the bottom of the cell, covering every square inch of the metal, and even from his position on the stairs Hongjoong could smell the nauseating stench of the room. 

His gaze caught on numerous small scratches in the metal base of the cell, and it took him a few moments to understand what the markings were, his head spinning upon the realization that they were tally marks. Seonghwa had been keeping track of the amount of days he had spent in solitude, and seeing the sheer amount of scratches was overwhelming, reality crashing into Hongjoong before he could brace himself for the impact. 

Stomach churning, he felt his mouth gape open slightly, his jealousy forgotten as he stared at the marks. Disgust crashed over him like a tidal wave, because how could he be so self absorbed that he had actually felt jealous of someone who he had forced to live in these conditions for months, at this point? 

Hongjoong had no choice but to believe that Seonghwa wasn’t as innocent as the others claimed him to be, because otherwise he would never be able to forgive himself for what he had done. He had to believe that Seonghwa was still an enemy, because if he wasn’t… then Hongjoong deserved far worse than the angry words his crew had been flinging his way. 

If Seonghwa was truly as kind, as good, as the others said, then Hongjoong had done something unforgivable. He had locked an innocent person away, had prevented him from feeling the sun on his skin, and had hurt him without remorse every time they had interacted. 

How could Hongjoong still condemn everything his father had done to him, when he had turned around and forced another human being to endure those very same conditions? 

~

As hard as he tried to remain focused the next day, the same thoughts circulated his mind from the night before, and he was so out of it that it only took a matter of hours for Yunho to pull him aside, the sun not yet reaching its peak in the daytime sky. At least he had the sense to pull Hongjoong into the storage room that was further into the cabin, instead of the one right above the cell room, so that they wouldn’t be overheard. 

“What is going on with you today?” Yunho asked once they were alone, and though he didn’t appear to be outright angry, Hongjoong could tell how high strung he had become. “I keep having to repeat things because I know you’re not listening to me, and I’m sure it has something to do with the prisoner, but that doesn’t usually make you this… well, useless. What’s your problem?” 

The words were blunt, and Yunho stared at Hongjoong with an eyebrow raised, lips pressed into a straight line. They always had conversations like this from time to time, as part of Yunho’s duty as first mate was to keep Hongjoong in check, and though he normally appreciated it he had no desire to be honest about the thoughts that were bogging him down. Not today. 

He couldn’t even work up the courage to be truly honest with himself. “It’s nothing,” he answered, trying not to wince as Yunho’s eyes flashed in irritation. “It doesn’t have to do with him - I just didn’t sleep well, so I’m kind of tired.” 

The excuse was lame and they both knew it, for Hongjoong had operated just fine on less sleep countless times. Yunho didn’t respond right away, and Hongjoong couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. He trusted Yunho with his life, but there were some things he just couldn’t be honest about. 

All in one instant Yunho turned away and threw out his arm, knocking over a supply crate full of clothing, its contents spilling all over the floor. Hongjoong felt frozen in place, such an aggressive display from Yunho taking him completely by surprise, for the first mate was typically the embodiment of a gentle giant. 

Not right now, though, his expression stony as his chest heaved, his voice hitting Hongjoong like a slap. “Stop lying. To all of us, but especially to me. I’m your first mate - if we can’t be honest about things, then this entire ship will fall apart.” 

Hongjoong bristled at this, not budging from his place even as Yunho paced around the supply crates, probably deciding which one to topple next. “There are plenty of things that I have never told you, and this ship has never suffered because of it,” he replied, forcing his voice to remain level as he tried to avoid another full blown argument. 

“Well it sure as hell is now!” Yunho raised his voice, watching Hongjoong with clear disbelief. “This ship is falling apart right beneath our feet, all because you refuse to be honest with anyone, even though we have all known you long enough to see right through you. And it’s hard for them to hold onto their sympathy for you when all you’ve been doing is shooting them down!” 

Yunho shook his head, turning away from Hongjoong as if he couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. “You have been fooling no one, I hope you know that. As strong as you try to seem, we know that you’re breaking under the weight of it all, and all I want to do is help you.” 

“Help me? All you’ve done since the start is fight me about everything. Even before you all decided that the prisoner is God’s gift to this earth, you still refused to follow my orders about his interrogation. Don’t try to act like you’re on my side now,” Hongjoong shot back, all thoughts of keeping things civil completely gone now. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Yunho burst out, whirling back around, fingers flexing at his sides. “I can not believe you just said that. You have no idea what I’ve had to withstand for your sake. To think that I’ve been trying to explain your side of things to the others… why did I ever bother? Maybe you are beyond help at this point - I just really wanted to believe otherwise.” 

His eyes were shining now, but Hongjoong didn’t care. “I don’t care what you’ve been saying to the others - you haven’t supported me to my face in months, when it actually mattered! My threat still stands - maybe you were never cut out for this position after all. Because it sure as hell doesn’t seem like it. So don’t get pissed at me now for lying to you, because why the hell would I want to be honest with you after how you’ve acted?” 

“Then I lose the fucking position! News flash, Hongjoong - there’s no one else who would be willing to withstand the shit you have put me through. I have fought with my friends because I’ve tried to remain loyal to you. I have never gone down there to see the prisoner since the interrogations ended, because I didn’t want to blatantly go against your orders.” 

He took a deep breath, stepping closer to Hongjoong, kicking the contents of the fallen crate aside. “But if you are still going to threaten me with that, then I won’t bother anymore. Mingi has been asking me to go down there and see the prisoner, and I’ve been refusing for you, but I’m done with that now.” 

So close now that Hongjoong could see his own reflection in the deep ebony of Yunho’s irises, the first mate bit out his final words. “And whatever I learn about him, I will not be reporting back to you. If you want to know what about him has made your crew turn against you, you’ll have to find it out for yourself.” 

With one last scathing glance, Yunho stormed from the room, the door thudding closed behind him with an air of finality. Hongjoong stood there in silence for several seconds before he kicked at the now empty crate lying on the floor, ignoring the pain that sparked in his toes, for he had forgone his steel toed boots today. Clearly that had been a mistake. 

Yunho was nowhere to be found for the rest of the day, which Hongjoong was not surprised about, though the ship did feel strangely barren. The first mate was usually everywhere at once, going in and out of the cabin all day long, so to not see him for such an extended period of time was disorienting. 

When dinner eventually rolled around, Hongjoong should have seen it coming when one less body occupied the table than the night before. Only Jongho sat with a very small portion of food, his expression solemn as he watched Hongjoong enter. A trace of fear could be seen there as well, and Hongjoong resolutely ignored the crater that opened in his chest. 

Taking his own seat across from the youngest member of his crew, Hongjoong took some food of his own and began to shovel it into his mouth mechanically, not even tasting each mouthful as it hit his tongue. He ate because he knew he had to, otherwise he would have spared himself the pain of hearing the jovial voices of his crew carrying up through the floor. 

Jongho didn’t meet his eye as he spoke, his shoulders slumped. “Yunho was right, you know. Wooyoung too. Violence was never the right way to get him to talk.” He took another bite, chewing and swallowing with little inflection. 

As if to highlight his point, the voice that Hongjoong knew belonged to Seonghwa said something, though his words were too quiet to make out. Explosive laughter followed, and Hongjoong’s head pounded as he gripped his utensils, knuckles turning white. He didn’t grace Jongho’s point with a response, simply because he had nothing left to say. 

They ate in silence, and though Hongjoong could tell that Jongho was upset, he had never been good at handling such emotions. He would probably make things worse if he tried, so he chose not to, surprised when Jongho eventually spoke up again on his own. 

“Do you feel guilty too?” He asked, his voice a wavering whisper, expression so much older than his years. Hongjoong snapped his head up, food forgotten. Jongho inhaled shakily, pressing his lips together to still their trembling. “It’s killing me, how I treated him. I never fought against your orders - I always let Yunho do that for me. But now he’s down there too, and I just wish I could take it all back.” 

He sniffled, and Hongjoong’s jaw slackened in surprise - Jongho very rarely cried, but tears threatened to spill now as he continued. “I keep thinking about the day he saved San, when you ordered me to bring him back to the cell afterwards, and I just… did it. No complaints, no argument, nothing. Wooyoung started screaming at you, and I still just did what you told me to. And doesn’t that make me just as terrible?

“They all yell and scream at you, and hate what you have done to that man, but how am I any better? And I know they don’t blame me, but maybe they should. The man in the cell probably does, and I think I understand how you feel, because I feel it too. Like you’re losing them, only it was your own actions that led you to this point, and now you have no idea what to do.” 

He sighed, pushing his food around on his plate, and Hongjoong hated how upset he looked. He hated how the words resonated, how his own feelings had been described as well. But most of all, he hated what he had done to the youngest member of his crew. 

This was all his fault, and he hadn’t even realized how he was making Jongho feel, too caught up in his own hatred towards Seonghwa to see anything else. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed, because what else could he possibly say? “I didn’t - I never meant to drag you down with me.” 

Jongho smiled bitterly, shaking his head. “I know, but it still happened. I just - I feel so guilty, so terrible for how I treated the prisoner, that it’s practically eating me alive. But you still only see your feelings of guilt directed towards me - why can’t you just admit that you regret the things you did to him, too?” 

Hongjoong abruptly got to his feet at the words, watching as a stray tear rolled down Jongho’s cheek and disappeared into his collar, wondering if he had even seen it at all. “What happened to you that made you so afraid to face how you really feel?” He whispered, and that was enough to send Hongjoong towards the door, his steps robotic as his breathing quickened. 

All he knew was that he needed to get out of there, feeling cracks spiderweb their way through his carefully placed armor. Fumbling for the door knob, Hongjoong heard Jongho call out for him again, his body pausing despite the will of his mind. 

“Hongjoong,” he said softly, his voice breaking audibly. “I love you, okay?” He spoke the words like he understood how scared Hongjoong had become that too much had changed, that he would never hear them again. 

And Hongjoong hated himself most of all for not saying it back, because he knew if he opened his mouth right then, a lot more than that would come tumbling out, and he was afraid. So instead he just yanked the door open, leaving Jongho in the cafeteria alone, the echoes of the laughter of his friends chasing him down the hall. 

~

Nothing could have prepared Hongjoong to find Yunho and Jongho emerging from the door to the cell room the next day, twin expressions of relief so clear on their faces that he stopped in his tracks, mouth falling open. After Jongho’s admission of guilt the night before and how hopeless he had sounded, the last thing Hongjoong expected was for him to join the others in their near constant trips down to see Seonghwa the very next day. 

They stared right back at him, expressions morphing into resignation, and Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak before remembering that Seonghwa would be able to hear. Instead, he beckoned them down the hall, all three of them stepping into the otherwise vacant crew quarters. 

Hongjoong shut the door firmly behind them before turning to face the two members of his crew, arms crossed. “What were you doing down there?” He asked, gaze flitting between the two of them. Yunho sighed and tried to answer, but Jongho cut him off. 

“We were apologizing for how we treated him, okay? I was so upset about it, and after Yunho went down to the cell with Mingi yesterday, he told me that the prisoner had been kind to him despite the things we did. So we went down together to actually apologize to him, and Hongjoong, he accepted right away.” 

Jongho paused, his eyes glassy, still emotional as he spoke. “Even after we handled him so roughly the day we took him, he was so quick to extend forgiveness. He’s a good person, Hongjoong - Wooyoung was right about him all this time. If you would only just consider that he’s not our enemy then maybe-” 

“Stop,” Hongjoong growled, for Jongho did not understand a thing. “Just because he was nice to you does not mean anything to me. Even if he isn’t our enemy anymore, he was just a few weeks ago, and yet no one cares to remember that. You all attack me for sending him back to the cell after he helped San, but conveniently seem to have forgotten that if he had just given us the information we needed, San never would have gotten hurt in the first place! I do not need forgiveness from that man, because I still don’t regret the things I’ve done.” 

But you do, the voice in the back of his mind whispered. Your regret is so strong that you are drowning in it, only you are so conditioned to the feeling that you have forgotten what it feels like to take a deep breath and fill your lungs with cool, salty air. 

Abruptly, Yunho smacked his palm hard against the side of the bunk bed that he shared with San, the sound making Hongjoong flinch. Despite all of the battles he had withstood, the people he had fought with swords swinging and guns blazing, he still faltered in the face of sudden outbursts of anger sometimes, remembering the fear of his childhood for a split second before his mind caught up. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Yunho commented flatly, his tone a sharp contrast to the aggressive movement. “I am done trying to talk to you about this. I’m sick and tired of the arguments, because we get nowhere every time, and I am tired of repeating myself. Come around or don’t - I don’t care anymore.” 

He brushed past Hongjoong to reach for the door. “Enjoy eating dinner by yourself tonight,” he muttered, punctuated by the slam of the door. 

Jongho moved to follow, although his expression was more solemn. No anger warped his features - all Hongjoong could find there was understanding, and in a way that was worse. “Please be smart, Hongjoong,” he practically begged, eyes pleading. “I know you feel like you’re losing us, but there is any easy way to get us all back. Please take it.” 

He left too after that, and Hongjoong spent the rest of the day in his quarters, dreading the arrival of dinner but still giving in to the growl of his stomach as soon as it presented itself. He already knew what he would find in the cafeteria - or, rather, what he wouldn’t find - so he might as well rip the bandage off and satisfy his hunger. 

As soon as he exited his quarters he heard their voices, fists clenched at his sides as he entered the cafeteria. Wooyoung hadn’t even left the food platter out this time - instead he had just left a singular plate on the table. He had made chicken and vegetables today, and Hongjoong smiled wistfully as he noticed the larger amount of broccoli on his plate compared to the other vegetables, trying and failing to ignore the aching pain in his chest. 

Even under the current conditions, the two of them having not spoken to one another in days, Wooyoung had still given Hongjoong more of his favorite vegetable. Silly as it was, Hongjoong’s sinuses began to burn, and he dropped into his seat with his back hunched in defeat. 

He had finally done it - he had finally driven them all away, until no one remained but himself. And he couldn’t blame a single one of them for anything, because he had done it all to himself. They had told him so many times that they hated the things he was doing, that they wouldn’t stick around if his cruelty persisted. Hongjoong understood too late that they had never been bluffing. 

His ears buzzed, tongue numb as he ate his food, merely going through the motions. The funny thing was that he had spent the majority of his life alone. Hongjoong was used to being lonely, but he had never known anything different back then. He had assumed that life was just like that. 

It wasn’t until he first began to bond with his crew that he realized what he had been missing. That there was even more to life than the things he had always yearned for, like the warmth of the sun on his skin and the feeling of the waves beneath his feet, pleasant as they were. His crew had opened his eyes to the real purpose of life - to love, and to be loved in return. 

Hongjoong had never truly been alive until his crew had shown him what it meant to love and be loved, and now he felt like he was slowly losing his grasp on the people he treasured above all else. Sitting alone in the cafeteria as he listened to them enjoy themselves without him, Hongjoong knew that he was dying all over again without the people who had brought him back to life. 

The members of his crew were the only six people he had ever loved, and it hurt him terribly to watch them leave him behind. Though they had all suffered through awful things that had ultimately led them to his ship, Hongjoong knew they had each known some kind of love before this, no matter how fleeting, which was something he could not relate to. 

They were his everything, but he now realized that he had never been theirs. 

And the worst part of it all was that he couldn’t even fault them for it - how could they continue to love him when he was so dark, so twisted, in ways they could never understand? If they knew of the abhorrent things he had done in his life, they would have only run away faster. 

The six of them were so beautiful inside, so full of love, that Hongjoong had always marveled at how lucky he had been to find them. They shone so bright that it could sometimes be blinding for someone like him, but Hongjoong was just grateful that he had been able to stand in their light at all. 

A part of him had always known that he would lose them one day - maybe he had never been deserving of them in the first place. Maybe all of the memories he held close to his chest had been bought on borrowed time. 

He didn’t even realize he had begun to cry until he sniffled, startling himself. These weren’t the angry, bitter tears that he was used to - these were tender, falling gently over the slopes of his cheekbones. Wiping them away with his sleeve, Hongjoong rested his head in his hands. He had no idea where to go from here, and he felt more lost than ever. 

For once, he couldn’t even summon a hint of the anger that had ruled his life since Seonghwa had first been thrown down onto his deck. All he felt was suffocating, overwhelming hurt, and he struggled to intake enough air as he fisted his hands in his hair, desperate for something to keep him grounded. 

Hongjoong had never experienced this kind of heart wrenching pain before, because he had never cared about anything before his crew came into his life. Faced with the very real possibility of losing them, he felt like his entire foundation was shaking, like everything he had come to base his life around was dropping right out from under him. He couldn’t handle being alone again - not anymore. 

Even if he did admit his wrongdoing and free Seonghwa from the cell, that wouldn’t erase everything he had done. His crew would still think of him differently after seeing this side of him, finally catching a glimpse of the monster hidden inside. Their relationship would never be the same as it had been before, no matter how he tried to fix it, and his throat constricted as his body shuddered with silent sobs that he refused to let free. 

Regret consumed him so completely that he didn’t think the feeling would ever go away. All he wanted was to go back, to change the way he had handled everything, but he couldn’t. He had already begun to see the quick flashes of fear in his friend’s eyes when he opened his mouth, the wariness whenever he entered a room, and no apology could fix that. 

Hongjoong had been beaten and abused his entire childhood because he had never been able to do anything right in the eyes of his father, and he had believed that to be true until his crew taught him that he was still worthy of beautiful things, that his past didn’t have to define his future.

So it was truly no one’s fault but his own that he had allowed his past to resurface, his pain and insecurity manifesting as anger and envy to the point where he couldn’t even separate his true feelings from the ones he reached for to protect himself. His crew - his family - had finally reached their limit, and all he could do now was hold back his tears, still unable to let himself be vulnerable even when he was entirely alone. 

It had taken him almost two decades to finally understand what love felt like, and yet he was only now learning that love and the pain of loss often went hand in hand.

A heart could only break like this if it had been cradled by the tender hands of love first. 

Chapter Text

Hongjoong was shocked to find that the cafeteria wasn’t vacant when he arrived for breakfast the next morning - in fact, it was the exact opposite, and he paused in the doorway for a moment as his heart stuttered. Sleep had evaded him all night as he deliberated everything that had led him to this point, all of the mistakes and arguments and words blurted in anger, so to see the entirety of his crew at the table filled his heart with a warmth that he hadn’t expected to feel again. 

A timid smile curved his lips as he headed for the table, finding a plate already out for him, and he filled it with food as he took a seat with the rest of his crew. They were all talking about various things, and Hongjoong sighed in contentment, for he hadn’t realized how much he had missed their ridiculous conversations until he hadn’t been able to listen to them anymore. 

“Thank you for breakfast, Wooyoung,” he said softly to the cook, who just nodded a bit stiffly in response. Hongjoong couldn’t even find it in himself to be bothered by that, however, because at least Wooyoung was here. He would withstand the silent treatment for as long as he needed to in order to make things right. 

Beginning to eat his food, Hongjoong listened to the others talk, only speaking a few times himself, for he still felt a little strange trying to act normal around them. He had no idea why they had chosen to eat with him instead of down with Seonghwa like they had been doing at every meal as of late, but he didn’t want to mention it for fear of ruining the moment. Rather, he cradled this time with them in his hands like breakable china, understanding of its value. 

Hope began to stir in his chest as the meal passed, a tiny flame flickering to life amidst all of the twisted darkness, finally something positive after all of the negative feelings. He began to wonder if perhaps his crew had discussed this all together, realizing that Hongjoong hadn’t meant to drive them away, that his intention had always been to protect the people he loved. 

His fears from the night before slowly started to melt away, because they wouldn’t be up here with him if they didn’t still love him. Maybe he had been mistaken, too caught up in his own anguish to understand that they would never choose someone else over him, not after all they had been through together. 

He began to put such a positive spin on things in his mind that he was able to convince himself that they would never have truly left him behind. For the first time in weeks, he could let go of the tension in his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw, because they had chosen to be here, to eat with him instead of Seonghwa. They were making an effort to fix this, and he knew that he would be willing to do the same. After that brief glimpse of what his life would be like without his crew at his sides, he knew that he would do whatever necessary to keep them around. 

A loud clattering sound interrupted his train of thought, and his neck snapped up to the source of the noise, Wooyoung’s utensils placed roughly down on the table as the boy stared at him with barely restrained anger, like nothing had changed at all. Hongjoong didn’t want to do this again, not when everyone else had been enjoying their meal just seconds before, but Wooyoung didn’t seem to care. 

“ You know what, I’m just gonna say it. I can’t take this shit anymore. Hongjoong, you have to let him out of that cage you’re keeping him in, like he’s some animal and not a living, breathing person. I’ve gotten to know him, and he’s a good person. He deserves to be able to sleep in an actual bed, for fuck’s sake!” Despite the abrasive nature of the words, his voice was surprisingly calm, though the undertone of resentment was undeniable. 

Hongjoong sighed, his head already beginning to pound as he shook his head wearily, not wanting to be the one to escalate this. Not this time. “Wooyoung, not now. I’m too tired to talk about this with you,” he excused, trying to keep his voice soft, to really convey that he was trying. He didn’t want to fight about this, not anymore. “I have things to do, okay?” 

That was mostly a lie, but he didn’t know how else to avoid this argument, and he was hoping that Wooyoung would back down just this once. A naive hope, as evidenced by Wooyoung’s increased volume as he continued, like a child who had been scolded. “No, I don’t care! I want to talk about this now, because I’m not letting him spend another minute down there if I can help it. He’s coming out, I don’t care if I have to steal the key myself.”

Defenses already rising, Hongjoong made one last ditch attempt at dissuading the boy from further pressing the issue, his jaw clenched as he gestured towards Wooyoung’s plate, the food barely touched. “I am not doing this now,” he repeated slowly, ignoring the roll of Wooyoung’s eyes. “Finish your food.” 

Wooyoung’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he got to his feet, his hands banging down on the table, startling Hongjoong, his armor raising right back into place at the sudden aggression. “Listen to me!” Wooyoung yelled, and Hongjoong stiffened, all eyes on him now as Wooyoung forced an argument that he hadn’t wanted. “Since when do you allow your own pride to blind you like this! Just because you think he’s this monster doesn’t mean it’s true.” 

His words rang in the silence, none of the others talking anymore as they watched the altercation, and Hongjoong felt his skin prickle in anger. He hadn’t wanted the morning to go in this direction - he had actually been naive enough to believe that Wooyoung had adjusted his viewpoint. “My pride? That’s what you think this is about? He is the enemy, Wooyoung. The only person who is being blinded in this situation is you,” he threw back harshly, the pounding of his blood filling his ears. 

He didn’t want to think about how badly it hurt to speak in such anger again, especially after the hope he had felt just minutes before. Hongjoong glanced around the table at the others, hoping that someone else would step in and keep Wooyoung’s anger at bay for long enough to find a solution. They had all come back up here to eat - they had to have done that because they cared about him. No other reason would make sense. 

At least, he couldn’t fathom why else they would all be seated here, until San opened his mouth and Hongjoong began to realize that he had been so painfully wrong about everything. “Well, if he’s being blind then I guess I am too, because I believe he’s down there for no real reason. And I know it scares you, and I don’t want to hurt you because I care about you so much, Hongjoong. But I also care about him.”

He could feel the crush of his heart, like San had stomped directly down onto his chest, the pain from the night before paling in comparison to what he felt now. This wasn’t just Wooyoung speaking out in anger, which Hongjoong had come to expect - San joining the argument wasn’t even unheard of, either. But the way he had delivered his words had been deliberate, like he had considered what to say beforehand, and that was when Hongjoong understood.

They hadn’t all stayed up here to eat breakfast with him because they wanted to work things out, to show him that they still would choose him over anyone else. All six of them were here to do the opposite - to stand against him as one unit, to abandon him completely, and he had been stupid enough not to see it coming. 

His throat began to constrict, and he struggled to swallow, trying desperately to keep his expression from crumbling. “San, you can’t possibly mean that - you don’t even know him! You don’t even address him by name, how can you claim to care about him?” Hongjoong hated how desperate his voice sounded, how pleading, but he knew where this was heading despite how he tried to dig his heels into the ground. 

“Just because we haven’t shared things with you, doesn’t mean he hasn’t told them to us,” Wooyoung ground out, his eyes alight with determination, and Hongjoong hated how he wilted under the strength of his gaze. He couldn’t believe how stupid he had been - everything was catching up with him now, and he could feel the control running through his fingers like water, unable to be grasped even as he tried. 

How ignorant he had been to assume that the others didn’t know Seonghwa’s name - just because they didn’t say it around him didn’t mean anything, he now understood. Hongjoong had learned of the name by chance, but he was certain that Seonghwa had told the rest of his crew willingly, and his envy burned deeper as he glared at Wooyoung. 

“I have no desire to learn anything about the prisoner, you can keep your precious information,” he spat, and though his next words were so far from the truth he could hardly form them, he said them anyway. “You can even keep going down there, I don’t care, but there is no way in hell he is waltzing around my ship.” 

He wanted to scream at them that he did care, that he didn’t want to lose them, but he was far too late. As Yeosang had told him just a few days before, Hongjoong had been the one to draw this line in the sand, and now he was facing the consequences as he realized that they all stood resolutely on the opposite side. 

His fingers trembled against his will, and he balled them into fists, unwilling to show just how badly this was hurting him. Even as he did so, he realized why this cycle was so vicious, why nothing had ever changed. Both Hongjoong and the others were too deeply stuck in their perspective to budge, and it simply left no room remaining for things to change. Perhaps they could have done something about that earlier, but the chance was gone now. 

“Hongjoong, please… you took us all in despite our circumstances, why is this any different?” Mingi spoke this time, and all of Hongjoong’s worst fears were confirmed, for Mingi never intentionally joined these arguments. They were all against him, and he had never felt more alone in his life as he stared back at them, feeling just as small as he had at five years old, when blood had first stained his hands. 

Now they were so covered in it that he couldn’t even find the skin anymore, and he wondered if any part of the person he could have been still remained at all, or if he was destined to be cruel for the rest of his miserable life simply because nothing else was left. 

Mingi couldn’t even see how preposterous his question was, and Hongjoong shook his head bitterly, hating how his eyes burned. Despite how monstrous he had become, his emotions still betrayed him, and he wished for the first time that he had never cared at all, for then he wouldn’t have to know hurt like this. 

In an effort to staunch the despair that threatened to reveal itself, Hongjoong shoved his chair away from the table, the awful sound hardly reaching his ears this time. “It could not be more different. He could hurt you at any moment, have you ever considered that this could all just be some little act of his? It’s simply not a risk I’m willing to take!” He shouted, his breath ragged as he noticed how several members of his crew flinched back at the outburst. 

Pain seared his heart, and Hongjoong turned to Yunho, for the first mate hadn’t joined the argument yet. Though he knew that Yunho would never come to his defense after all he had done, a part of him still hoped for the opposite, that he hadn’t truly lost everyone. “Yunho, tell them how ridiculous this is. I’ve had more than enough - I expected more from both of you,” he reprimanded, scolding San and Mingi for sharing their feelings, which he had sworn to never do. 

He had always taken care to make sure that every voice was heard on his ship, but he had lost sight of that so completely in his panic, a distant guilt ringing in his mind as both San and Mingi stared at him with unshed tears pooling along their lashes. Hongjoong resolutely ignored the feeling, watching Yunho, hating how desperate he felt for the first mate to put an end to this, to prove that they hadn’t all actually planned to take him down and humiliate him like this. 

But he knew the words were coming before they reached his ears, the resignation fully settling within his gut, his head pounding. “I can’t tell them that,” the first mate whispered, his lips trembling, and Hongjoong wished he could have dropped through the floor and been swallowed by the sea. Drowning would be a blissful end in comparison to the pain that threatened to tear him to pieces from the inside, pain like he had never felt before. 

All of the others watched the two of them in stony silence, and Hongjoong saw the tears, the sorrow, but he couldn’t understand it. If they felt so remorseful, then why were they doing this to him? He had built his walls to protect himself, strengthening them since his childhood, and he had only ever let them down around these people. He had trusted that they would never do this, and yet here he stood, entirely stripped bare and unable to protect himself as they ripped his heart free of his chest and tore it to pieces. 

For them, he had unlearned years of abuse, finally opening his heart despite how petrified he was of being vulnerable. He had learned to be gentle, and caring, despite his father’s voice in the back of his mind constantly reminding him that to be those things was to be weak. Because of them, he had managed to free himself of the metaphorical shackles that still held him hostage despite his physical freedom, and had begun to realize that the world he had known his entire life was nothing compared to the life he could live if he allowed himself to feel. To be weak. 

But now, as the very people who had lowered his defenses now struck him where it hurt most, he wondered if any of it had ever mattered to them. 

“You know I love you, Hongjoong,” Yunho said, his voice thick with withheld emotion. “I’ve had to tell you when you've been wrong many times before, and I’m sorry but I have never felt as strongly about it as I do today. Please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” His eyes were shining as he pleaded, a tear blinking free and slipping over his skin, catching in the light. “You’ve always listened to me - please don’t change that now.”

But Hongjoong had never felt more betrayed in his life, for at least when his father had done cruel things, it had never come as a surprise. Not like this, his chest throbbing with such excruciating hurt that he wanted to rip his heart out himself, to stomp it to a pulp under his feet so that no one could ever hurt him like this again. Heartless people were born from this kind of hurt, for perhaps a life of apathy was safer than a life of love that could be taken away. 

“I never had a reason to doubt you until today,” Hongjoong ground out, his voice cold as he stared at the people he loved, though he found that they didn’t look quite the same. He took a step back from the table, taking in the sight of them all, his voice growing louder as he addressed them. “I thought I taught you all how to be strong, but perhaps I am not as good of a teacher as I had thought. You sound so weak, it’s appalling.” He knew the words were cruel, but this was the only way he knew how to protect himself. If he allowed himself to appear weak, they would simply take more and more of him, until nothing remained.

Still, he couldn’t hide the shaking of his hands, the angry cracking of his voice, betraying the true feelings beneath. “This is not the crew that I recruited all those years ago. You keep asking me to listen to you, to open my eyes, well take a look at yourselves! You’re the ones who need to listen! We have always had nothing except for each other, and I thought that would be enough for you considering it’s all I’ve ever needed, but I guess I was wrong!” He took a gasping breath, bracing a hand against his chest, for how could pain that wasn’t physical still hurt like this? He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the walls were suffocating him, like he would die here without their love to convince his heart to beat. 

“How much more of me do you want to take?” He didn’t even register that he was shouting, his throat burning as his eyes filled with tears of anger, tears of hurt, tears of inadequacy. Despite his best efforts, he had never been molded by love like they had. He had only ever known hate, and he had been a fool to think that anything could offset that fundamental difference between himself and the rest of them. 

His fate had been determined from the day he had been born, and he understood now that his story had always been destined to be a tragedy. 

“Hongjoong, none of us are doing this to spite you. We love you,” Jongho practically whimpered, his voice trembling so much that his words were difficult to discern. He sounded like nothing more than a child, for he basically was. They all were, too young to know just how terrible the world could be, and perhaps the best way for Hongjoong to protect them would be to remove himself from their lives completely. 

He had been forged by darkness, deep and unrelenting, poisoning everything he touched. They had been weaved from pure sunlight, bright and gleaming, their light illuminating every step they took.

How could he blame them for leaving him, when he had never done anything but forbid them to shine? How could they ever have truly loved him, when he was in every way their opposite?

At Jongho’s words, something inside of Hongjoong snapped, the ugly part of him that hated how they had left him behind, that was jealous of Seonghwa despite everything. He was humiliated, exhausted, enraged, and upset, all at the same time. He was human, despite being raised as a machine, and he had reached his breaking point. “Do you?” He exploded, and he could feel his veins popping, his eyes blown and wild as he glared, so overwhelmed that his vision had gone blurry. 

The room seemed to freeze at his outburst, and Hongjoong gasped for air, unable to fill his lungs, his head spinning. These feelings were too much for him to bear, but he couldn’t push them down any longer, not when they were all coursing through him at once. He wanted to collapse and sob for everything he had lost, for the person he could have been if he hadn’t been dealt such a rough hand in life. He wanted to destroy everything around him until nothing remained. 

He wanted to rewind time, to fix everything he had broken and get back the people he loved. He wanted to cherish them, to break free of the mental bonds that had always restricted him and allow himself to love them in the way they deserved. Choking on his own built up tears, Hongjoong shook his head with force, ignoring how his neck protested. He was going to lose them without ever holding them in his arms, simply because he had been too afraid, too damaged to learn how. 

Oh how he wished he had been honest, had asked for help when he had needed it. Maybe then he would be able to wrap Wooyoung in a gentle embrace, to brush Jongho’s tears away and to place a tender kiss on San’s forehead. Maybe if he had been able to convey his feelings that way, none of this would have ever happened. 

The silence threatened to suffocate him, to reach down his throat and squeeze his heart until it ceased to beat, and he almost wished it had, for what came after was so, so much worse than physical death. “Stop! Just stop, all of you!” Yeosang exclaimed, his voice cutting right through the silence. “This is getting us nowhere, and you’re going to end up saying something that you won’t be able to come back from. Hongjoong, this is beyond whatever grudge you hold for the man who sits in that cell. How dare you claim that we don’t love you, after everything we’ve experienced. We’re a family, for fuck’s sake!” His voice broke, and the shards embedded themselves in Hongjoong’s chest, stabbing him right through.

“We love you more than anyone else in this world, you’ve given us everything, don’t you think we know that? What I don’t love, however, is how you’ve lost yourself in your own rage. I don’t love your treatment of another human being, one who we have all come to care for. You can bitch all you want, you can hate him for the rest of your life, but you are not this cruel.” Yes, you are, his father’s voice whispered in his mind. You are my son, after all. 

Hongjoong felt his cracks splinter, his self hatred rearing as he dug his nails into his palms, biting down on his tongue, all in an effort to distract from the pain he felt inside. He had never been cruel enough by his father’s standards, but he couldn’t be gentle enough in the eyes of his crew, either. No matter what he did, it was never good enough, and he could feel his grip on his perseverance slipping the more Yeosang spoke. It would be so much easier to just give up. 

“You’re supposed to be our leader, but you’re damn well not acting like it. You told me when I agreed to join your crew that we would always have a voice here. And you’ve always upheld that promise, don’t lose sight of it now. You are good, Hongjoong. You are humble, and smart, and most of all you are kind.” Hongjoong wanted to laugh, because he had never been any of those things - this wouldn’t be happening if he had. “This isn’t you. Yelling at Jongho, scolding San and Mingi for speaking their mind, you don’t do those things. Don’t you see? You’re losing yourself in your own desire for revenge on someone who has never hurt you.

“There is a human being down in that cell, and you have beaten him within an inch of his own life. I know he has said things to make you angry, and he hasn’t cooperated for a single moment, but let me ask you something. Wouldn’t you do the same thing in his situation?” Yeosang was breathing heavily, and he let his question sit for a moment before continuing, though Hongjoong had already considered the same point on his own. He knew it to be true, and now he had no choice but to face it, to fully stand in the face of all he had done wrong.

“I know you would, you’re incredibly stubborn, Hongjoong. And you hate the fact that the prisoner down there is just as stubborn as you are. You two are more similar than you think. He has only been defending himself - and all it took was a little bit of kindness for us to see past it. You can hold onto your anger for as long as you desire, no one here is telling you that you need to enjoy his presence, but let him be free. Maybe you’ll begin to see things differently once you allow yourself to see what we all see in him,” Yeosang finished, and the silence followed once more, even heavier than before. 

Yeosang had never raised his voice like that, and Hongjoong felt the words sink deep into his already open wounds, cutting him down to the bone. Ever since he had met each of these boys, he had changed himself in order to keep them, despite his own issues that he refused to set free. Keeping his own pain carefully veiled, he had taken care of each of them, fretting over their bumps and bruises while ignoring the sword jutting from his own chest. 

Everything he knew about tenderness he had learned not just from them, but for them. From the day he had first seen Wooyoung and Yeosang, he had vowed to become the person they needed, to avenge his past self who had never been saved. He had treated them like he would have treated his younger self, how he had wished to be treated all those nights he spent alone in his small room, recovering from a plethora of both physical and mental wounds. 

All of his blunt edges he had tried his best to soften for their sake. He had learned how to turn his love into attentive gestures, always making sure they were eating and sleeping, even as his own stomach rumbled, dark circles carving a home beneath his eyes. For them, he would have dismantled his own parts, giving them each the pieces they needed to run smoothly even as he crumbled to the ground. 

And even after all of that, he had still made so many mistakes, too many to redeem. He had tried so hard to change who he was in order to put them first in everything, and he had still failed where it really mattered. But now, he finally felt himself give up, all of the fight vacating his body at once as his shoulders slumped, his knees trembling.

Barely holding himself up, he looked down at the floor, using his last shred of will to keep his tears from falling until he was alone. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, with no strength left in his voice. “I still don’t like it, and if it were up to me he would stay down there, but I didn’t mean to sound like - like I wasn’t listening to you guys. Which I guess I wasn’t, you’re right.” He swallowed painfully, refusing to look at them as he admitted to everything he had been ignoring for months, for he had no fight left to give.

“I’m sorry for yelling, and for getting so caught up in my own stubbornness. I am still angry, but I trust you all, more than I trust myself.” He paused, a pang of pain shooting through his heart, hating that he meant every word. This would be so much easier if he could bring himself to hate them, but the only person he could hate was himself. “You can let him out, though I ask that you don’t let him walk the ship alone. If this is what you want, I can’t stop you.” The final words cracked when they fell from his lips, wet with barely restrained tears, though he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. 

Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to cling to his anger, for he had always used it to protect himself, but now he had no choice but to let go. All that remained was the feelings he had been trying to hide from all this time, and he itched to run from the room, to close himself in his room until he wasted away into nothing. Once he closed that door he didn’t think he would ever come out, and amidst the numbness that had washed over him, he couldn’t find any fault in the idea. 

“Thank you,” Wooyoung said, his voice softer than Hongjoong had heard it in a long time, but it didn’t matter to him anymore. “I hated fighting with you all this time - I just want everyone to be happy.” 

And everyone finally would get what they wanted - everyone except Hongjoong, but he was the one who deserved the pain, the anguish. He hoped that they were right about Seonghwa, that he could be everything Hongjoong couldn’t. They deserved someone like that. “I know,” Hongjoong replied, his words garbled. “It’s one of the things I love about you most.” 

Reaching into his pocket, Hongjoong pulled free the key to the cell, setting it down flat on the table without looking at any of his crew - if he could even still call them that. “Take the keys, if it’s what you want. I’m gonna go back to my room for a while,” he forced out, desperate to get out of there, for his breathing had grown shallow, and he was on the verge of collapsing right there. 

He needed to leave, and he stepped away from the table as soon as he let go of the key, relinquishing the last of his control. The others murmured soft assurances, but they rolled right off Hongjoong’s shoulders, their voices no longer bringing him comfort as he shuffled out the door. As soon as it softly closed behind him he made a beeline for his quarters, the tears already beginning to roll down his cheeks unrestrained. 

A soft sob burst from his lips, and he could hardly see as he reached his own door, pushing it open and shoving it closed once he was safely inside. Finally alone, he collapsed to the floor straight away, wrapping his arms around himself as if he could hold all of his shattered pieces together. Hongjoong had always been left to mend himself, to patch up the cracks whenever they formed, but now there were simply too many. 

He had no choice but to break completely, tears soaking his collar and splattering down on the floorboards, his entire body shaking with the force of his cries. His own embrace was the only one he had ever known, and it did little to comfort him this time, his arms eventually falling limply to his sides. Somehow, he wound up curled on his side, still in the center of the floor as the sobs tore out of him so painfully, unable to control it. 

Too numb to think about anything that had just happened, all he could do was tremble there on the floor, crying so violently that he dry heaved hard enough to wonder if he might break a rib. He possessed no concept of time, and he hid his face in his hands, his palms slick with tears by the time he pulled them away. All he could do was replay the entire scene in his mind again and again, and just as he began to regain control of his breathing, the memory struck him directly in the chest, his lips quivering all over again as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

He wanted nothing more than for this to all have been a terrible nightmare, that same childish part of him that used to wish for the same thing when he was a child. The last time he had cried like this had been all the way back then, and out of habit he still clenched his teeth in order to make less noise, for he knew what would happen if someone heard him - if his father heard him.

Hurt as he was, Hongjoong couldn’t rely on his usual defenses, and he felt all of the memories melting together. His fears mingled, and eventually he couldn’t tell if he was really on his ship, or if he was back in that small room in the depths of the naval base. If the one man he feared more than anyone else on this earth was creeping down the hall, prepared to kick the door open and force Hongjoong to do something deplorable, something that would send him deeper into this darkness… 

Thump, thump, thump. Something knocked against the door, and Hongjoong’s pulse raced as his blood ran cold, his heart stopping as he shuffled away from the door, his breath escaping in panicked pants. He couldn’t breathe, so consumed with terror that his father was here, that he was going to come through the door and hurt Hongjoong, make Hongjoong hurt someone else-

“Hongjoong?” The voice was soft and timid, and absolutely nothing like his father’s. He closed his eyes, attempting to take a full breath several times before actually succeeding, his lungs aching for air. Every few seconds, his breath still hitched, his body so fatigued from hyperventilation that he couldn’t control it. He felt pathetic, and he knew he must have looked it too, his face red and shiny with tears. 

Slumped against the far wall of his room with his arms wrapped around his legs, pulling them tight to his chest, Hongjoong just wanted the person to go away. He rested his chin on his knees, eyes tracing the patterns of the wooden floor as his breathing came back down to a more regular rate. His entire body felt numb, like white noise had traveled through his veins and rendered his limbs useless, and he yawned weakly. 

He wanted to fall asleep and wake up to find Wooyoung and Yeosang curled up on the end of his bed, just like they used to when they woke in the night after nightmares of their city burning. He wanted to be stirred awake by Yunho and San, twin smiles on their lips as they told him they were approaching an island. He wanted to hear Mingi and Jongho bicker as they came to summon him for breakfast. 

For years, he had taken advantage of those things, and now he wondered if he would ever experience them again. With a sharp pang of pain, he understood that he probably wouldn’t have the chance after how badly he had fucked up. And if that was the case, then he wouldn’t be too upset if he fell asleep here on the floor of his quarters and never woke up again. 

If he couldn’t live beside them, then he wasn’t sure if he wanted to live at all. 

The door thudded again, and Hongjoong remembered that someone was out there, that he hadn’t heard their footsteps leave. “Hongjoong?” This time he could tell the voice belonged to Jongho, and he winced, one word enough to make his lips tremble all over again. He couldn’t face the youngest member of his crew - he couldn’t face any of them, and he hoped that Jongho would just leave if he ignored him long enough. 

“I won’t leave,” Jongho said next, as if he had read Hongjoong’s mind. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” His voice broke on the last word, and Hongjoong clutched his shirt over his heart, squeezing his eyes shut as he desperately tried to will his tears away, surprised that his body even had the ability to produce any more. Though, he supposed that all of the years’ worth of tears he had never cried had to have been stored somewhere. 

Still Hongjoong didn’t respond, his breath hitching as he sat there, so exhausted that he didn’t think he would be able to move even if he wanted to. His door was technically unlocked, but after all that the others had put him through this day, he knew that Jongho wouldn’t enter without permission. 

An audible sigh carried through the door, and Hongjoong heard a muffled thud from the other side, almost like Jongho was resting his forehead against the thick panel of wood. “I’m so sorry that we did that to you,” he murmured. “It wasn’t right, even though I know we had to. It was the only way, Hongjoong - please understand that.” 

Numb as he felt, Hongjoong couldn’t fault Jongho for anything he and the others had done. Protesting against him all together had been the best way to get what they wanted, by using his greatest weakness against him - themselves. So Hongjoong did understand, despite how awful it had made him feel, any hope that had been left inside of him completely snuffed now. They had made their choice - they had taken the side of what mattered most, and he had been the one left behind. 

“I know you’re in there, and I know you hear me. I heard you crying - I’ve never heard you cry before, and even though I knew that our plan would hurt you… I hadn’t realized just how badly hurt you were. All these years, you’ve done everything for us… and now you feel like none of it was enough, don’t you? Like none of it ever really mattered?”

Hongjoong sniffled, hiccuping as he rubbed under his nose with his sleeve. Of course he felt like that, but he didn’t understand why Jongho was pointing it out other than to make him upset all over again. 

“I’m so sorry, Hongjoong. There are reasons for what we did, and I can’t explain them to you because I promised I wouldn’t, but please know that we would never have done that if we weren’t completely sure about the prisoner. He isn’t going to do anything to hurt us, okay? And I know you don’t believe that, but I promise that it’s true, so please - don’t worry about that on top of everything else. Take care of yourself first, alright?” 

Jongho’s intentions were pure, but Hongjoong shook his head, and he would have laughed if his eyes weren’t pooling with tears. His crew really didn’t understand that they were his everything - without them, he had nothing left. He couldn’t possibly cease to worry about them, no matter what assurances Jongho made. 

He would spend forever making sure that they were okay, and they still didn’t even understand that, not completely. And how could they, when they knew nothing of his upbringing, the reasons for his behavior? They had their suspicions, but Hongjoong knew that the horrors of his childhood were darker than even the deepest parts of their imagination. 

Instead of being understood, Hongjoong would rather his crew maintain that viewpoint. He didn’t want them to ever learn of how cruel the world could be, even if it meant that they would always believe him to be cold, incapable of love as deep as theirs. 

Hongjoong felt a tear drip over his already salty cheeks at the thought, because even if that was the truth, it didn’t mean that he hadn’t tried . He had given them every last drop of love he could squeeze out from his shriveled black heart, but they didn’t know that. All they saw was how little he had to offer, and they had left him once they found someone richer in love than he could ever be. 

It didn’t matter that he had given them his entire heart, because it still equated to no more than a fraction of theirs, and he could do nothing to change that unfortunate truth. He had been destined for cruelty since birth, and it was a miracle that he had managed to find love at all, no matter how fleeting. 

“I guess you aren’t going to open the door,” Jongho said dejectedly after a while, and Hongjoong just stayed in place, his silence enough of a confirmation. “That’s fine - I can completely understand why you wouldn’t want to see any of us. But Hongjoong, please don’t stay in there for too long, okay? We’re all worried about you.”

He pressed his lips together to prevent a soft sob from escaping, for he wanted so badly to let the words be a comfort, but he knew they were only spoken in pity. Selfishly he wanted to believe it - he wanted to open the door, to allow Jongho to make him feel loved, but he couldn’t budge from where he sat on the floor. His mind wouldn’t let him, even as his heart tried to drive him forward. 

An age old battle, but Hongjoong’s mind had been effectively locking out the desires of his heart ever since he had killed his first man just to spare himself any more pain. 

Shuffling sounds came through the door, and Hongjoong’s heart sank as he prepared for Jongho to leave, though the boy’s voice permeated through the wood once more. “And just so you know, he’s really happy to be out of that cell. He took a bath, and they’re showing him the deck right now. He’s like a whole new person… and I honestly think you would like him, if you would just give him a chance.” 

He left Hongjoong alone after that, his footsteps fading until they couldn’t be heard through the walls anymore, and Hongjoong didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about those final words. Seonghwa was not a member of his crew, and he did not have a place on this ship, and yet he was the one out on the deck with the others while Hongjoong was alone in his room. 

Suddenly, the ache in his heart seemed to lessen as the envy took over, and Hongjoong welcomed it gladly, for he didn’t think his body could take much more of the despondency. This was his ship, but it had been stolen from right under his feet, and he knew that from this point on he would never maintain the authority that he had before. They would never heed his orders in the same manner, because now they knew how to get what they wanted, and Hongjoong hated the lack of control. 

Control had always been a very important thing to him, since he had never possessed a single shred of it while growing up. As soon as he had managed to escape and trade for a ship of his own, he had finally known that he was in control, that no one would ever be able to force him into such dreadful acts again. He didn’t take well to losing it, because the feeling brought him right back to his youth, and he felt nausea churn in his gut, all of the memories still close to the surface. 

Desperate to do something to quell his rising panic, Hongjoong shakily got to his feet, hating how his hands trembled. No one was around to see him, but he still felt ashamed, and he frantically scanned his room before his eyes landed on his desk. So many scrolls littered its surface, maps of the seas and the stars, as well as various other pieces of parchment full of his own cramped scrawl. 

Crossing the room in short strides, Hongjoong roughly threw out his arms and swept everything off of the desk, scattering papers all over the floor. He grabbed for his navigation instruments as well, throwing them at the far wall, the loud clatter drowning out the spiraling thoughts in his head. 

Distantly, he could hear his own harsh breathing as he kicked his chair over, needing to do something to feel like his body was really his, like he hadn’t lost that too. Reaching for his bed next, he pulled off the blankets and threw them to the floor, tearing off the sheets and the pillows, all of the clutter practically covering the floor of his small quarters. 

It still wasn’t enough, and he tore through his clothing as well, crying out as he ripped his shirts in half and shoved it all away in his rage. He didn’t stop until nothing remained to destroy, and then he stood there in the middle of all of it, his chest heaving and his fingers gripping at his hair. Broken sobs began to escape then, and he tried to take a step forward only to trip over his blankets and fall to the ground, all of his strength evaporating as he screamed into the soft material.

He screamed until his voice gave out completely, his throat burning as the sounds tore free, but the pain was what he wanted. Physical pain distracted him from the feelings in his heart, and he sank his fingernails into anything he could, clawing at his forearms and neck, hardly noticing as drops of his blood began to stain the mess on the floor. 

This kind of pain was comfortable, and he leaned into it, biting into his own lip, his cheek, relishing the metallic tang of blood that spread over his tongue. He screamed until he couldn’t anymore, and then he screamed without sound, his face frozen into an expression of anguish as he laid there amid the contents of his room. 

Hongjoong rarely ever allowed the others to see his skin, for it was covered in small crescent marks and evidence of tiny wounds in between all of the larger scars, and he had never wanted to admit just how many of those marks were self-inflicted. Physical pain had been one of the only constants in his life, and he found it so much easier to deal with than the kind of pain that left no visible scar. 

He didn’t even realize when he ran out of energy completely, and he had no idea how much time had passed when he finally came back to himself, lying limp in the middle of the floor. His head was pounding, and he winced as he shifted into a sitting position, shame burning at his cheeks as he took in the dried blood along his skin, the mess beneath him. 

How could his crew ever place their trust in a captain who was capable of this degree of self destruction? 

Hongjoong rose unsteadily to his feet, his head spinning and vision going black for a second, and only then did he remember that he hadn’t eaten a full meal all day. At breakfast he had managed to eat a few bites of food before everything had blown up in his face, but his stomach felt hollow now, the hunger clawing at his ribs like the bars of a prison. 

He had no idea what time it was now, and he waded through the mess on the floor until he reached the small window, noting that the sun had finished setting and the first stars were beginning to illuminate the dusky sky. Immediately he identified Polaris, and the bright twinkle of the North Star helped him to feel less alone. 

Too tired to feel anything but empty, Hongjoong stared up at the sky for a little while, tracing over the constellations with his eyes. Doing so had always settled his emotions, and he remembered being in this exact position at the naval base, when he had first taught himself the legends that decorated the skies. 

Those stories had kept him alive, for he had found glimmers of the emotions he was forbidden to feel in each one, and it had always comforted him to know that the characters of those legends had been placed among the stars because of that nature. Someone as evil as his father would never taint the stars, and he felt protected with the myths of old watching over him. 

His eyes lingered on his favorite constellation a bit longer than the rest - Chiron, the wounded healer. The existence of Chiron had always provided him with a shred of hope that maybe, one day, he would meet someone like that who could prove to him that it was still possible to be good despite how the evils of the world had been stacked against him. He had always hoped that someone of that nature would be able to help him heal one day, too. 

He felt a wave of calm wash over him as he looked up at the cluster of stars, and he didn’t feel as bad as he had for most of the day. Although his breakdown had been agonizing, it had also been long overdue. He felt slightly more stable now, less partial to erupting in anger, and his thoughts weren’t as warped as they had been. 

Able to think more clearly, Hongjoong’s resentment lessened. The hurt was still there, and probably would be for a while, but that was okay. Clearly his crew weren’t planning on abandoning him and his ship as a whole, and that would have to be enough for him for now. He detested the thought of Seonghwa free on his ship, but he could do little to change that. 

Hongjoong had been overruled, plain and simple. And yet, despite how crushing it had felt to be confronted like that by his crew, he finally noticed that the suffocating feeling of guilt was mostly gone. He could breathe easier, because his dilemma was over, even if he didn’t like the outcome. Seonghwa was no longer in the cell - he could live in normal conditions now, and Hongjoong wouldn’t have to grapple with his guilt over treating the man like something subhuman. 

Thinking about the situation that way made him feel a little better, and when his stomach rumbled again he softly clicked open the door, checking to make sure that the crew was in their quarters before he slinked down the hall, his bare feet not making a sound. 

Before going to the kitchen, Hongjoong stopped briefly in the bathroom to clean himself up, though he paused in the doorway as he realized that Seonghwa had been in here just a few hours prior. Sure enough, as he stepped inside he noticed smudges of filth inside of the bathtub and against the sink, one of the towels rubbed with grime. Any anger that he had been feeling about Seonghwa using this bathroom dissipated entirely at the reminder of how inhumane his conditions had been. 

No person should have been forced to endure such neglect for as long as he had, and Hongjoong was again reminded of how his own father had treated him for years. Now that he had lost the battle to keep Seonghwa down there, he knew that he would never do something so terrible again. It had all spiraled out of his control, and he had tried desperately to keep from losing everything, but it was over now. He couldn't ignore the slight relief, beneath all of the hurt, that he wouldn’t have to argue about it anymore. 

Turning on the water faucet, Hongjoong used a cloth rag to gently wipe the crusted blood along his arms. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he could see scratches along his neck as well, and he washed those next. It stung, but he welcomed the feeling, washing the blood away until only the marks from his nails themselves remained. 

He rinsed his face in the sink, his eyes swollen and puffy from all of the crying, and the cold water felt wonderful against his heated cheeks and forehead. Deeming himself clean enough, Hongjoong discarded the rag and left the bathroom, moving silently down the hall to the kitchen. 

Inside the room, he found a plate that had been left behind for him, along with a note that he stared at for longer than he probably would have on any other day, his hunger roaring its impatience. 

‘DINNER FOR HONGJOONG - DO NOT EAT!!!’ was written in big letters, and he smiled softly as he read the rest. ‘ Hongjoong, if you’re reading this make sure you eat everything, because if you don’t I will show up to your room tomorrow morning with a double portion of breakfast. Love, Wooyoung’

The note felt so painfully normal that Hongjoong couldn’t stop reading the words again and again, and when he eventually did give in to his hunger, he folded the note carefully and stuck it deep in his pocket. He wanted to keep it as a reminder that Wooyoung had still signed his name with the word ‘love’  - that perhaps he could still hope that not everything had been irreparably damaged by his actions. 

Though the food was entirely cold by now, Hongjoong still found it to be delicious, a simple stir fry that finally satisfied his empty stomach. Eating alone wasn’t as lonely this time around, for he didn’t have to listen to the sound of his crew members’ laughter beneath him. The ship was entirely silent, and his mind didn’t wander beyond the food in front of him, which he was grateful for. 

Once he finished, he made a point to leave the empty bowl by the sink for Wooyoung to see tomorrow morning. Smiling to himself, he turned around and headed back for the door, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. Before going back to his quarters, he needed to do one last thing in order to keep his mind from running wild, and he quietly made his way in that direction. 

Although Jongho had assured him that Seonghwa was enjoying his freedom, that he hadn’t done anything to harm the crew since that morning, he still needed to see it for himself. He kept his steps light as he approached the door to the crew quarters, breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed that the lights inside the room had already been turned off, no strip of light illuminating the floor of the hall. 

Inhaling through his nose, he stepped right up to the door, placing his ear against the wooden surface and listening for any sounds from within. He didn’t want to face any of them, he merely wanted to make sure that they were all safely asleep, and when he didn’t hear anything after several prolonged minutes he finally placed his hand on the knob. 

Taking care to be as quiet as possible, he rotated the knob and peeked his head inside, squinting against the darkness that pooled in the corners of the room. Vaguely, he could make out the shapes of his crew lying in their bunks, and he scanned their number, unsure of where Seonghwa was sleeping. Perhaps Wooyoung and San had decided to share… but when he looked at San’s bunk, he could only make out the form of the lookout, no sign of Wooyoung.

Shifting his gaze towards Wooyoung’s bunk, he expected to find the boy curled in his blankets, but his heart dropped down to the floor when he registered that no one occupied the bed at all. The covers were still in place, but they were clearly empty, and Hongjoong frantically scanned the remaining bunks, dread pounding in his veins. 

All of the other bunks were filled, but only with one body each - Wooyoung wasn’t here. Hongjoong backed out of the room, closing the door and raising his shaking fingers to touch his lips, for Seonghwa hadn’t been in there either. Both of them were missing, and his thoughts ran rampant with all of the possibilities of how this could have gone wrong, his worst suspicions all rearing their heads again as he bolted for the deck, chest heaving. 

The cabin was otherwise silent, so they had to be out there - they couldn’t be anywhere else, and he felt dazed in his panic as he raced down the hallway. Wooyoung had to be okay, he needed to get there in time, before Seonghwa could do anything to hurt him. Mentally, he cursed himself for ever letting his resolve soften, for he knew he would never forgive himself if he was too late. 

Mind spinning with worst case scenarios, Hongjoong almost missed the sound of voices that swept past his ears, and he stopped in his tracks right beside the door to the cell where the others had visited Seonghwa so many times. It had to be them, and he reached for the knob, preparing to twist his wrist before the actual words processed in his mind, his grip going slack. 

“-you always notice little things that no one else picks up on. I just feel safe with you, I know you would never hurt me.” The voice belonged to Wooyoung, and everything he had just said blatantly contradicted Hongjoong’s worst fears, a sigh of relief releasing his worries. He didn’t even have the energy to feel the jealousy he had grown so used to - he was too thankful to hear Wooyoung’s voice and know that he was safe. 

After a moment, Seonghwa’s voice carried up to the cabin, and Hongjoong’s brows furrowed at how tender he sounded, how completely unlike the person Hongjoong had interacted with. “I like you, too. I’d never do anything to hurt you,” he assured, and Hongjoong could hear the honesty in the admission. His lips parted, and he couldn’t tear himself away from the door, leaning closer to listen even though he knew this conversation was private. 

“You kind of feel like an older brother to me, you know. I mean, everyone except Jongho is older than me already, but it’s different,” Wooyoung pondered, and Hongjoong felt something surge in his chest - something like longing. “I guess because I tried so hard to get to know you, and I got to watch you open up day by day. I just think we’re connected by something. Like maybe God, if there is one out there, saw that we both needed someone at the same time. Because you helped me too.” 

Wooyoung had always been full of love, but Hongjoong had never heard him speak so candidly, for he typically conveyed his feelings through over the top gestures of warmth. He very rarely spoke so seriously, but Hongjoong could tell that this meant a lot to him, and he wondered just how much of Wooyoung he had never seen due to his own lack of emotional intelligence. 

“How?” Seonghwa asked, and Hongjoong couldn’t shake his surprise at how innocent he sounded, how wide-eyed and curious. He felt like he was listening to an entirely different person speak, like he was finally catching a glimpse of the man the others claimed to have seen all this time. 

He couldn’t believe that he had missed this all along, for despite the words of his crew he had never fully believed them when they spoke of how gentle Seonghwa was, how kind . This version of him was so different from the one Hongjoong had interrogated, and he cursed himself for his own stupidity, because of course it was. Why would he ever have shown this part of himself to the man who had snapped his arm like a twig and thrown a knife directly through his hand? 

Shaking his head, Hongjoong realized that Wooyoung had continued to speak, and he managed to catch the end of it. “You helped San when I begged you, even though you had no reason to. Even today, you spent time with me when I was cooking. And anytime I look around, you’re always watching. I just - I feel different with you. Like you won’t judge me for anything, maybe because you’ve been through so much yourself.” 

His voice was overflowing with gratitude, and Hongjoong couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, although he knew he had heard Wooyoung correctly. The last part especially stuck in his mind, for Wooyoung had insinuated that Seonghwa had told him something of his past, and that it had been far from pleasant, a sentiment that Hongjoong could most definitely relate to. 

Backing away from the door, he was reminded of something the others had said to him more than once over the last few weeks - that himself and Seonghwa were more similar than either of them realized. Their reason for making that comparison had never made sense to him, but as he padded back down the hall to his room, he wondered if perhaps whatever horrors Seonghwa had experienced in his past had something to do with it. 

And even though he quelled the feeling as soon as it rose, Hongjoong’s withered heart filled briefly with sympathy for another wounded soul, another spirit riddled with scars. 

Chapter Text

Primarily keeping to himself after the day of Seonghwa’s freedom, Hongjoong spent almost all of his time in his room, only ever leaving to go to the bathroom and retrieve food from the kitchen in order to avoid Wooyoung’s wrath. He had eventually tidied up his room again, placing everything back where it belonged and finding replacements in the storage room for the clothes he had ruined. 

On the wall above his desk, he had pinned the note Wooyoung had left with his dinner that night. It served as a reminder when he felt especially alone, and he treasured the childish scrawl, reading the message again and again. He only ever caught glimpses of the others recently, for whenever he came across one of them in the hallway he tucked his head down and hurried for his destination, not wanting to talk to anyone. 

He didn’t feel ready for that yet, and he was scared that he would snap in order to protect his already wounded heart. Despite how badly he knew they wanted to talk to him, hating that their last interaction had been so negative, they didn’t push it either, and he loved them for that. He loved them for a lot of things, despite how those very feelings had been the reason for his hurt. 

However, he couldn’t stay away from them forever, and after several days of distance he knew that it was only a matter of time until he was forced to face someone for more than a few seconds. He should have known that it would be Wooyoung, for the boy could never just be patient, and when he entered the kitchen one morning to find that he wasn’t alone like he had expected, he froze in the doorway. 

Wooyoung tended to always make their meals at around the same time, and Hongjoong had purposely been timing his trips to the kitchen to fall when the meals were already finished, not wanting to walk in on his crew eating around the table with Seonghwa in the place that should have been his. He couldn’t picture himself ever joining them all for a meal, not given the current circumstances, and he had always found a plate of food waiting for him just like the first time. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung greeted from over by the stove, and Hongjoong just stared, for he had not been prepared for a confrontation. Not that he could have ever really prepared himself, all of his muscles tensing as he considered if he should just bolt from the room. A large part of him wanted to do exactly that, but he forced himself to take a step inside anyway, swallowing thickly. He couldn’t hide from them forever, and Wooyoung didn’t seem like he was looking for an argument, so this was probably the best he was going to get. 

He nodded his head in greeting, eyeing the plate of food on the table. “Um, can I take that, or…” he trailed off, figuring it was worth a try. Maybe Wooyoung hadn’t planned to be here on purpose, and would just let Hongjoong leave without any deeper exchange. 

“I want to talk to you first,” he said, promptly crushing Hongjoong’s attempt at hoping otherwise. The reluctance must have shown on his face, for Wooyoung sighed, grabbing the plate of food and walking over to the table. He didn’t sit, but he set down the plate, his arms hanging loose at his sides as he fixed Hongjoong with a gentle stare. His eyes wandered over Hongjoong’s skin, and even though he must have seen the scratches still healing along his arms and neck, he didn’t let it show on his face. “Is that okay?” 

Again Hongjoong wanted to make an excuse and run away, but he didn’t allow himself to give in, standing in place and giving a stiff nod in response. He didn’t want to speak more than necessary, because he could never trust what words would come tumbling out, especially around Wooyoung. The two of them raged at each other so easily, and he was too fragile to withstand another argument. 

Wooyoung awkwardly twisted his fingers, and for the first time it occurred to Hongjoong that perhaps he wasn’t the only nervous one. That thought helped him to loosen up a little bit, though he still waited for Wooyoung to initiate whatever kind of conversation this would be. “Are you okay, Hongjoong? Well, I obviously know you’re not, because you’re spending every day holed up in your quarters which you usually can’t stand, but I just want to know what’s going on with you. I just want you to talk to me,” he pleaded, eyes big and glossy. 

“You only care now that you got your way,” Hongjoong mumbled, and he was surprised to hear how much hurt the accusation held. He hadn’t ever known his voice was capable of sounding like that. “You haven’t talked to me in weeks, Wooyoung, aside from the times we were screaming at each other. I was under the impression that you had moved on to better things.” 

Faint surprise crossed Wooyoung’s features, as if he hadn’t expected for Hongjoong to sound so bitter, and Hongjoong found that he was taken aback by his own response as well. He wanted his relationship with his crew to go back to how it had been before, but perhaps he wasn’t as willing to sacrifice his own feelings as he had thought. The fear of this happening again in the future kept him from just dropping the issue in order to feel close to them again - he wanted them to know that they had hurt him, so that they would think twice before doing it again. 

“That’s not true - well, the not talking to you part is true, but I was hurt too, Hongjoong. And I won’t get into that again, because I know you understood us that day and I don’t want to revisit all of that, but I promise you that I haven’t ‘moved on’. The, um, former prisoner is important to me, yes, but so are you. And I just want to feel close to you again,” he admitted, his voice raw, and Hongjoong squirmed under the emotion in his eyes. 

He chose to focus on Wooyoung’s pathetic attempt at referring to Seonghwa by something other than his name, huffing a breath. “I know that Seonghwa is important to you, you’ve made that clear,” he reiterated, making sure to emphasize his use of the name, feeling smug for a fleeting moment as Wooyoung’s mouth dropped open. “The group of you are very loud, it wasn’t difficult to overhear his name. I’ve been hearing your conversations against my will ever since you first abandoned me to eat dinner with him.” 

Wooyoung’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, pressing his lips back together, clearly thrown off. “You’re sleeping down in that cell with him,” Hongjoong continued, although he had a feeling that he would regret mentioning it. “Aren’t you scared? You hate it down there, I know you do, although I’m sure Seonghwa has no idea. Why the hell are you both still sleeping down there anyway? I would assume that after everything you guys did for him in order to free him, he would never want to step foot inside there again.” 

“Don’t presume that you understand a single thing about him,” Wooyoung defended, his tone protective as he raised his voice probably more than intended. Hongjoong flinched before he could stop himself, more so because of his surprise at Wooyoung’s tone than the volume itself, although that too startled him. Loud sounds always seemed to do that, despite how he hated his innate reaction. 

Wooyoung’s expression softened instantly, his eyes going wide as he lifted a hand, clearly wanting to reach out to Hongjoong before remembering who he was talking to. His arm again fell limp at his side, and Hongjoong had to look away from his face, unable to stand the open concern there. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Wooyoung whispered, his voice shaky, all of the former indignance entirely gone. Hongjoong worked his jaw, inhaling deeply to settle his pounding heart. He just wanted Wooyoung to pretend like he hadn’t reacted at all, for he hated having to face this still damaged part of himself, the wounds of a child who had never healed. 

When he didn’t respond, Wooyoung continued, shuffling a step closer but keeping his arms down. “I’ve noticed you do that before, especially recently, but I was always so angry that I never let myself think about it. You’ve always been the strongest, bravest person I’ve known, and I’ve always looked up to you so much that I sometimes forget you’re still human, and you still struggle like the rest of us. And I’m so, so sorry for that. I should have cared for you the same way that you have always cared for us.” 

Hongjoong stiffened, hating that Wooyoung was acknowledging the weaknesses he had always tried so hard to hide. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve always survived like this, and I don’t need you to look after me,” he responded harshly, digging his nails into his palms. “You have enough to worry about - what are you planning on telling Seonghwa next time there’s a battle, hm? That the cell belonged to you before it ever became his prison?” 

A low blow, but Hongjoong was desperate to force the focus away from his own shortcomings. He braced himself for Wooyoung’s anger in return, for throwing his fear of battle in his face had been a cruel thing to do and he knew it. He hated himself for it even more when Wooyoung’s face fell, exhaustion held in every line, every feature. 

The boy sighed heavily, pressing his fingers into his brow as if an ache had gathered there. “Please, don’t do this,” he practically begged, his voice quiet. “Hongjoong, I miss you. I miss you so much, and I wish you would stop pushing us all away. All I’ve ever wanted is to understand you, so that we don’t have to get into these fights with each other. I hate fighting with you.” He sniffled, the ceiling lights illuminating the line of silver tears that clung to his lashes. 

“Me pushing you away? You are the one who did that to me - all of you. You never for a second wanted to understand my reasoning, so don’t give me that now.” Hongjoong meant for his words to sound angry, but his voice cracked and betrayed his hurt, the pain that still lingered after their confrontation. 

Visibly taking a deep breath, Wooyoung kept his voice calm, speaking to Hongjoong like he was some kind of wounded animal, and Hongjoong hated it. “I couldn’t understand why you were treating a human being like that, but that’s over now - I don’t want to fight about that with you anymore. What I mean is that I want to understand the parts of you that you hide from the light, the stories you’ve never told a soul that fester within you. No one should have to bear that kind of weight alone. You didn’t let any of the rest of us suffer like that, and I’m sorry that we never returned that comfort.”

“You only think that you want that,” Hongjoong responded gruffly, his heart beating rapidly at the thought of them ever knowing the truth. “If you knew those parts of me, you would change your mind. I’ve been carrying this weight my entire life, so I really don’t need your help.” He didn’t say it because he was angry - he said it because he was afraid. Sharing the memories from his past meant reliving them, and he didn’t think he would ever be strong enough for that. 

“But that doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy!” Wooyoung burst out, his voice loud but not irate. He spoke like he needed Hongjoong to understand this, his lips trembling. “Just because you’ve spent your life carrying it doesn’t mean that it isn’t too much for one person to bear. You’re a good man, Hongjoong - I know I’ve said things recently to contradict that, and I fully admit that I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have because I was angry. You are good, so why are you so insistent on acting like you’re not?

“You gave us all a home when we didn’t have one - when we had nothing - and I know you love us. I know that what we did hurt you, and I know that your hurt manifests as this self destructive rage because you’ve never been able to express those feelings. Someone hurt you to make you like this, and it breaks my heart.” 

Wooyoung shook his head, the tears rolling down his cheeks now, and he didn’t bother trying to wipe them away. “I love you so much, Hongjoong, and I am so sorry for how isolated we have made you feel. I’m sorry for the way we ganged up on you - I don’t regret it, because I still believe that Seonghwa deserves to be free, but I hate watching you avoid us, like you’re scared that we don’t even want you here anymore.” 

The pain in his voice was thick, his fingers trembling at his sides. “I spent so many nights unable to sleep because I just didn’t know what to do - I knew that Seonghwa needed to be freed, but I didn’t want to have to fight with you about it. I never wanted to hurt you, okay? And I was never trying to replace you. I can’t live without you, and it’s been hell trying to these last few weeks.” 

He wiped under his nose with his sleeve, and Hongjoong felt his eyes burn, looking down at the floor as he blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. “I don’t want to be angry anymore,” he admitted, hating himself for letting the thought free. “But it’s too hard trying to be anything else. I’m so tired.” His voice broke, and he clenched his fists, angry with himself for being so weak. 

“I want to believe you, but when it comes to certain things I just can’t. Being alone hurts, but it hurts less than being around all of you, at least for right now. I just need to regain control, and then I won’t be emotional like this. I’m sorry,” he whispered, daring to glance up at Wooyoung again. 

Eyes brimming with concern, Wooyoung took another half step forward, the two of them standing just arm’s length apart now. “But this is what I’ve wanted from you all along. I know that you probably don’t want to trust me anymore, and I understand if that’s the case, but it has been so hard for me to know how you actually feel when you won’t let me in. I know that you aren’t the man I’ve seen since Seonghwa’s capture, but I’ve never seen you act so cruel, so blinded by your own rage. I’ve missed this part of you, the man who took care of me when no one else could.”

He paused, the tip of his nose red, and Hongjoong still wanted to protect him despite everything when he saw him this upset. “Seonghwa has come to mean a lot to me, but so do you. Just because I care for him doesn’t mean that I care for you any less, and I will promise you that as many times as you need to hear it until I run out of air.” 

Hongjoong wanted to believe him so badly, his heart swelling at the acknowledgement he had feared he would never hear again, but couldn’t shake the hurt either. How long would it take before Wooyoung stood against him again, using his undying love for the six of them to crush him into submission? “I’m sorry,” Hongjoong breathed, his lips tight at the corners, body stiff as a board. “But I don’t believe you.” 

His words, although spoken quietly, seemed to hang in the air between the two of them, filling the entire room with their suffocating implications. Hongjoong had no choice but to watch as Wooyoung’s bottom lip quivered, the tears soaking into his shirt as he stared at Hongjoong, torment etched into every line of his face. 

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Wooyoung whispered, the question barely audible at all, and Hongjoong understood then that his expression wasn’t full of sorrow for himself. He simply couldn’t understand why Hongjoong wouldn’t choose to lean into the comfort he was offering, why he would rather dwell in his own pain. That marked the fundamental difference between the two of them, no matter how badly Hongjoong wished otherwise - he didn’t know how to accept the love that he secretly yearned for. 

Looking into Wooyoung’s eyes, Hongjoong felt his desire to be cared for spark to life, overcoming all of his other reservations just long enough for him to murmur the most vulnerable words that had escaped his mouth in a long time. “I don’t know,” he admitted shakily, overcome by shame thick enough to affect his breathing as he hung his head. 

He was so tired of living in this scarred skin, cursed to feel the ghost of his father’s abuse looming over him constantly. Not even sleep provided a release, and he hated how his mind and heart always seemed to want different things. He wondered what it would be like to live as someone else for just a day, to understand how beautiful the world could actually be when not viewed through an already damaged lens. 

Everything felt hopeless when he thought about how he would never enjoy life in the same way as his friends. He imagined that watching them was the closest he would ever get; observing how their skin seemed to absorb the sunlight, their smiles wide and unrestrained by a past like his. Their hearts were so light that they seemed to hover inches above the ground, every movement full of grace, while Hongjoong had never lived a day without being crushed by the heaviness within his own heart. 

Deep down inside, he yearned for the feeling of a gentle touch, the comfort he had never received as a child. He wanted to lean on the people he loved when all of his emotions became too much to handle on his own, but he had never learned how to do that. All his life, he had only ever known how to lean on the crutch of anger in order to protect his heart, and he couldn’t bring himself to try to unlearn it because he was too afraid that he would be too far gone. He would rather choose to hate than fail to heal. 

Lost in his thoughts as he was, too focused on the implications of the small piece of truth he had let slip free, that he didn’t hear Wooyoung close the distance between them until they were nearly chest to chest. “Please, just let me hold you,” Wooyoung said through his tears, and Hongjoong tensed as arms wrapped around his waist. 

Wooyoung had climbed into Hongjoong’s bed and attempted to cuddle plenty of times, and he had wrapped an arm around Hongjoong’s shoulders before being shoved off, but they had never actually shared an embrace like this one before. No one had ever hugged Hongjoong like this in his entire life, and he didn’t know what to do as Wooyoung’s chin came to rest on his shoulder, his body warm even through the barrier of his clothing. 

The touch felt awkward at first, and Hongjoong prepared himself to pull away, but Wooyoung only tightened his grip at the movement. He didn’t say anything else, but Hongjoong could hear his breathing start to even out due to their proximity, soft sniffles still reaching his ears. Wooyoung seemed to melt fully into the embrace, like his body had been created in order to show love like this, and Hongjoong couldn’t believe that he had been missing out on this fundamental piece of who Wooyoung was. 

He had always known the boy to be the most loving of their crew, but to actually be on the receiving end of a physical display of his love was different than he had always imagined it to be. More than just a touch, he understood now that a hug couldn’t be compared to a simple hand on the shoulder or clap on the back. 

His heart had never felt so full before, and wanted to cry as he tentatively raised his own arms to return Wooyoung’s embrace, never wanting this feeling to go away. 

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong choked out, his voice muffled by Wooyoung’s shoulder, unsure of what he was even apologizing for considering all of the things he had done wrong lately. Warmth from Wooyoung’s skin bled through into his own, spreading through his veins all the way to the shriveled remains of his heart, illuminating him from the inside. He unconsciously clutched onto the boy tighter, in awe at the feeling of another life in his arms, someone so willing to give him the love he had always secretly wanted. 

Even if he never built up the courage to hug another person again, he suspected that he could live off of the love he was receiving from this one for the rest of his life. Although his own heart was small compared to those of the others, he considered that Wooyoung’s heart was probably the largest of all, and he thought for a moment that he could feel his chest expand. Almost like his heart was taking up more space, not quite as scared to beat. 

Wooyoung shook his head softly, and Hongjoong could feel the movement against his neck. “You don’t need to be. There’s no use in running around these circles again and again. Right now, all that matters is that I love you and you love me. As long as we have that, there’s never reason to lose hope.” He exhaled, the breath ghosting past Hongjoong’s ear, sending a flurry of goosebumps along his neck. “Has anyone ever held you like this before?” 

If it weren’t for the embrace lowering his walls, Hongjoong never would have answered, but he allowed a small shake of his head. He suspected that Wooyoung had already known the answer, but he swore he could feel it when the boy’s heart sank, a whimper so quiet reaching his ears that he wondered if he had even heard it at all. “I’m sorry for that most of all,” Wooyoung whispered. “No one should have to go twenty three years without a hug from someone they love.” 

Hongjoong pressed his lips together, swallowing down the bundle of emotions stuck in his throat, squeezing Wooyoung one last time before pulling away. He would have stood there all day, but he didn’t want Wooyoung to have to be the one to break the embrace, and he was able to stand taller after sharing his burden for those few minutes. “Thank you,” he murmured, and they shared a glance full of so many different things that Hongjoong found himself still thinking about it hours later. 

~

After that day, Hongjoong slowly began to spend more time outside of his room, although he still avoided Seonghwa at all costs. He managed to steer completely clear of him for almost a week, but he was on his way out to the deck when he first set eyes on the man since his newfound freedom. 

Considering how awful the conditions in the cell had been, Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa would look different now that he could actually take care of himself, but he hadn’t expected just how drastic the change would be. As he pushed open the door to the deck, he scanned the entire area first to make sure that Seonghwa wasn’t around, but his heart stuttered as his eyes landed on the unfamiliar figure standing by the ship’s wheel with Yeosang. 

Just from the back, Hongjoong could tell that a lot had changed, for he was wearing a clean set of clothes, and although his limbs still appeared unnaturally bony, he didn’t look quite as skeletal when he was dressed properly. His height came as something of a surprise, for he was slightly taller than Yeosang - even though Hongjoong had seen him around the rest of the crew when he had healed San that day, he had been too worried to take note of something so trivial. 

His mind briefly flickered back to the first day he had ever seen Seonghwa, also out here on the deck, when he had called Hongjoong small. And he was small in comparison, but he still felt irritation prickle over his skin at the memory, his anger still easily flared in Seonghwa’s presence, it seemed. That would surely lead to problems in the future, but he would try his hardest to avoid any prolonged interaction between the two of them. They would most definitely still clash if they had the opportunity, and he didn’t want to find out what that would be like now that no bars separated them. 

He kept the door just barely open wide enough to see through, not wanting either of them to see him, and he observed as Yeosang turned and pointed at something on the horizon to their right. Seonghwa rotated as well, and Hongjoong finally saw his face free of all the dirt and grime, nearly stumbling backwards in surprise. 

Gusts of wind swept his hair back gracefully, and although still long and a bit unruly, it suited him now that it was clean. His skin had gained a little bit of color, losing the deathlike pallor from before, and he actually looked vibrant under the glow of the midday sun. Hongjoong was in disbelief at how much had changed in a week’s time, and he found himself leaning a bit closer, squinting his eyes against the glare as he took in Seonghwa’s features. 

Even while emaciated and filthy, Hongjoong had been able to tell that Seonghwa was a pleasant looking man beneath it all. The sharp edge of his jaw had always been visible, as well as the set of his eyes and the strong line of his nose. But to actually be able to see his face illuminated in the sunlight like this… the sight took Hongjoong’s breath away, though he would never repeat that information to a single soul. 

His cheekbones were high and sculpted, and though Hongjoong was pretty sure he could discern several scars marring the skin there, they didn’t take away from his beauty in the slightest. Pink shaded his cheeks and the tip of his nose due to the bite of the wind, only serving to bring more color to his face, and his eyes sparkled in the light. 

Hongjoong wouldn’t have believed that this was the same man if it weren’t for a few obvious tells - the freshly healed scar on his hand, for one, as well as the thin wrists that extended from his sleeves, the way his clothes hung from his frame. Although he did look much healthier, one week couldn’t undo the damage of so much time spent in a cell, and Hongjoong could tell that he lacked muscle, his frame seeming to cave in on itself. 

It had also appeared that from the beginning, Seonghwa had experienced the effects of his prison tenfold, his skin sallow and hanging from his bones after just a short time down there. The only thing that could correct such effects was time, and now he would have plenty of it, free to walk the ship as he pleased. 

Hongjoong definitely still hated the idea of Seonghwa walking the same halls as he did, but he did feel his worry decrease as he watched the two of them interact. He had never actually witnessed this - the closest thing being when he eavesdropped on Seonghwa and Wooyoung - and he knew after a short time that Seonghwa clearly wasn’t acting in order to infiltrate their ship. 

Having spent so many years surrounded by people who only wanted to hurt him, Hongjoong was used to the way such intentions manifested, and all he saw in this newly freed man was the opposite. His eyes were almost childlike in their enthusiasm as he listened to Yeosang speak, and his attentiveness was obvious even as he swept his gaze over the sea. 

Clear awe was written on his face, and Hongjoong didn’t even notice the slight curve of his own lips as he watched, for he always knew when someone had found their home out on the sea. This life wasn’t for everyone, but certain people seemed to come into their true selves out here, and it appeared that Seonghwa wasn’t any exception. He looked radiant out here, and Hongjoong found it difficult to look away, so captivated by the sight of this man who had changed so much. 

Again Hongjoong found himself wondering about Seonghwa, for despite their stifling animosity towards one another, he really didn’t know anything about the other man. With his former crew sunk to the bottom of the sea, had he truly decided that he could let go of his loyalties and settle down elsewhere? Had he been so low on the old ship’s hierarchy that it hadn’t been a difficult decision to make? 

Hongjoong still recalled how Seonghwa’s face had been battered upon his arrival on their ship, and he knew that there had to be more to the truth behind all of this, for the man standing on the deck now looked absolutely nothing like the man he had been expecting to see. He had expected that same anger, eyes guarded and defiant, posture defensive, but no shreds of that same man lingered here. Perhaps if Hongjoong had made his presence known, that version of Seonghwa would have snapped back into place, but still… to know that this version of him existed was a surprise. 

He just wasn’t sure if it was a pleasant one or not just yet. 

That day, he had been able to successfully close the door to the deck and go back into the cabin without being seen, but he found himself actually faced with Seonghwa’s full attention just a few days later. He hadn’t tried as hard to actively avoid the other man after seeing him out on the deck that day, less threatened by his presence in general, but he was still taken aback when he left the cafeteria one morning to find Seonghwa coming down the hallway in that direction. 

He froze for a moment, still not used to seeing a new person walking the halls of his ship, and Seonghwa did the same, his eyes widening in alarm. Hongjoong watched as he bit his lip, backing up against the far wall as if that would prevent him from being seen. That alone was surprising, for Hongjoong would have expected him to spit nasty words as soon as he had the chance, but he almost seemed… scared. 

Perhaps scared wasn’t the right word, for his eyes still burned with resentment even as he cowered. Skittish seemed more apt, and Hongjoong kept his mouth closed as he let the door shut behind him, stepping further into the hallway in order to return to his quarters. Seonghwa flinched at the movement, and Hongjoong halted again, a pang of guilt shooting through his heart even as he tried to quell the feeling. 

Regardless of his reasons for keeping Seonghwa in the cell, he had still hurt this man several times, and he could only imagine what Seonghwa felt when faced with the one who had wanted to keep him down there, to hurt him until he gave them answers. He probably suspected that Hongjoong would throw another knife at him, fear visible in his eyes beneath the dislike. 

The evidence of their past interactions still lingered on his skin, and likely would for the remainder of his life. A thin line traced a path along his neck from Hongjoong’s knife, and the scar on his hand was still pink, like it was still causing him pain. Hongjoong swallowed down the guilt that he felt, not allowing the words on the tip of his tongue to escape as he forced his eyes away from Seonghwa, not wanting to cause him any more distress. 

Instead he just took off at a brisk pace down the hall, his strides long in order to carry him away faster, and he could hear Seonghwa’s footsteps scurry over the floor as he darted into the cafeteria. Probably looking for Wooyoung, though that didn’t bother him quite as much anymore. Hongjoong had the sense that Seonghwa needed comfort from the boy just as much as he did, only Seonghwa wasn’t afraid to go looking for it. 

All of their interactions after that one went mostly the same, either with an awkward encounter in the hall or elsewhere, and they had yet to actually speak a single word to one another. Hongjoong didn’t want to be the one to break the silence, and clearly Seonghwa had no intentions to do so either, and for now that was okay. 

They knew of their mutual dislike for one another, and they knew that if any words were said, things would escalate fast. This kind of teetering coexistence was the best option for now, and Hongjoong had no real reason to want to change that. Although he did feel guilty for how brutal he had been, he also didn’t regret it, for he had only been trying to protect his crew. He would have to make peace with the fact that Seonghwa was now free, but he saw no reason to do anything beyond that. 

~

Seonghwa had been free for a few weeks when Hongjoong was shaken awake by a set of frantic hands, instantly jolting awake and scrambling back on the bed. Whenever one of his crew woke him up like this, he always lost himself to panic for a few long seconds, his heart stopping as he expected his father to grab him roughly by the arm and pull him to the floor, ready to deliver a new day of torture. 

Chest heaving, he blinked rapidly to focus his vision, only beginning to calm down when he made out San’s familiar figure in the darkness, the concern on his features visible even in the dark. “Turn on the light,” Hongjoong croaked, and San quickly complied, leaving the side of the bed to do so before returning immediately. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered, and Hongjoong waved a hand to dismiss the apology, coming back to himself now as he stood from the bed on still shaky legs. His pajama top had twisted around his torso in his sleep, and he straightened it now, the fabric slightly damp from the cold sweat that had erupted all along his skin. 

He reached for the nearest pair of shoes, stepping into them as he kept his eyes on San, his jaw tight at the obvious fear on the boy’s face. “What did you see?” he asked, for these visits from San in the middle of the night never meant anything good. Whenever he saw something suspicious on the horizon while taking his lookout shifts, he always came to alert Hongjoong. Even though he always apologized for doing so, Hongjoong had told him from the start that he wanted to know the moment something seemed off. 

San’s keen eyes up in the crow’s nest had given them enough time to stay alive in dicey situations more than once, and Hongjoong always took him seriously, any lingering remnants of sleep entirely gone now. “I thought I saw sails,” San informed, twisting his fingers together unconsciously, his brows furrowed in unease. “They were far away, and the seas are misty tonight, but… I really think I saw them.” 

Shoes secure on his feet, Hongjoong followed the boy from the room, his own heart pounding a nervous rhythm against his ribs as they made their way out to the deck. The night air had picked up a slight chill, and he shivered as the wind cut straight through his pajamas, for he hadn’t bothered grabbing a jacket on his way out. 

San noticed this, and he moved to shrug off his own, but Hongjoong placed an arm on his elbow to stop him. “It’s fine, San. You’ll be cold without it.” That did little to stop the boy, however, for he just stepped away from Hongjoong’s touch and took the jacket off anyway, offering it to him with a soft smile and a raised brow. 

“I know you’re cold - just take it,” he insisted, and he rolled his eyes when Hongjoong made no move to do so. “I’m fine, I swear. I’m actually sweating, to be honest with you. Seeing those sails warmed me right up, and I always wear layers up in the nest.” The reminder of why they had come out here in the first place drove Hongjoong to just take the jacket, since they really didn’t have any time to waste, and he knew that himself and San could stand here and push the garment back and forth for hours. 

“Thanks,” he grumbled, pulling his arms through the sleeves, and he couldn’t deny that he felt much better. San’s body heat still lingered within the insulated fabric, and he hugged his arms around his middle, trying to contain the warmth before the wind stole it all away. The jacket was surprisingly big on him, and he scowled at the thought, for it hadn’t been long ago that San had still been a tiny little thing. 

That had definitely changed now, the lookout’s shoulders nearly twice as broad as Hongjoong’s as he pointed towards the rail to their right. “I saw them over here, but I don’t think we’ll be able to see them anymore,” he explained as they walked closer, and Hongjoong gripped the railing despite how cold the bars felt against his palms, slick with icy seawater. 

The ocean stretched before them as one dark, twisting mass, so ominous in the night despite its beauty during the day. Illuminated by the glow of the full moon above as well as the twinkle of the stars, Hongjoong could just barely make out the horizon, squinting his eyes in an effort to make out even just a vague shadow of an enemy ship. 

“I don’t see anything,” he admitted, and San sighed, though his expression made it clear that he didn’t see anything either. “But I believe you, if you say that you saw something. It doesn’t surprise me - it’s been too long since we’ve seen any other ships, and we’re not far from land right now. That doesn’t mean that they’re an enemy though, so don’t panic, okay?” 

He tried his best to sound as reassuring as possible, although he really couldn’t make any guarantees, and he knew that San understood that. The moonlight caught in the boy’s eyes, wide with fear, and Hongjoong cursed under his breath. “And even if it is an enemy, we’ll be fine, Sannie. We’ve been through this plenty of times, and we’re still together, aren’t we? Their ship is the one that will drown, pirates and all, if they dare to lay a finger on my crew.” 

Not a shred of doubt clung to his assertion, and he watched as the tension gripping San’s shoulders relented a little bit as he nodded. “I know, I think I’m just especially worried this time,” he murmured, his voice threaded with vulnerability. “I don’t want to get hurt again, and I don’t want any of you to get hurt either.” 

Hongjoong reached out to place a gentle hand on San’s shoulder, although he didn’t speak just yet, sensing that the boy wasn’t finished. “What happened last time made me realize how scary it is to not know if you’ll be okay, and all I can think about is how I don’t want any of you to experience what I did, even though I know most of you already have. I just worry… I can’t stop myself from worrying.” 

He sniffled quietly, and Hongjoong’s heart clenched, the corners of his lips tugging downwards. Of course he understood the feeling San was describing, for he had taken many beatings in his life that had left him clinging to the verge of death - the only difference was that back then, he had wished for the other option, dreading when his father would send in a healer and force him to deal with the pain until he recovered. 

“And now with Seonghwa here too, I feel like I need to worry about him and Wooyoung, because I doubt that he can fight either. He’s a healer, and I’m so grateful that we’ll actually have a real doctor around this time, but I don’t want either of them getting hurt.” He paused, inhaling shakily as he stared towards the horizon, still searching for something out there. “I really hope that I’m wrong about what I saw. I hope that for once, they leave us alone.” 

The wind picked up, swirling around the two of them, and Hongjoong tugged on San’s sleeve to get his attention. “For what it’s worth, I hope you’re wrong too. I don’t enjoy the bloodshed, but just know that if there is an ambush, I will try my best to keep all of us safe. Even… even including Seonghwa, as long as he makes his loyalties clear. Not because I care about what happens to him, but for all of you. I can’t do anything to change the things I did, but I can do this.”

Although it pained him to make such a statement, he was pleased to watch San’s tension melt away, a grateful smile curving his lips. He still trusted Hongjoong enough to find relief in his words, and that made it all worth it. 

~

Hongjoong didn’t find sleep again that night, and once the sun began to rise through his window he got out of bed again, changing into normal clothing and heading for the cafeteria. He knew that no one would be there yet, but he wanted to be able to catch Yunho and Yeosang as soon as they woke up, and the cafeteria was usually the first place they went. 

Sure enough, the room was vacant, and he set down a few different maps that he had brought along with him, taking a seat as he spread them out on the surface of the table. Many of these maps were old and weathered around the edges, the sides curling and the parchment beginning to brown, for they had been with Hongjoong longer than any of his crew. He had stolen them when he had finally escaped from the naval base, and they were far more detailed than the hand drawn maps most pirates possessed. 

All of the distances were accurate relative to one another, and they had a distinct advantage over other crews through their superior knowledge of the seas and surrounding lands, which came in handy whenever they needed to outrun a ship or find the nearest port. Many crews died due to lack of supplies before they reached port, underestimating the distance to land, but Hongjoong had never needed to worry about that. 

He could already feel a headache gathering behind his brows as he scanned the maps, trying to determine the best plan of action. They would need to stop for a restock of supplies soon, but he couldn’t figure out exactly how long it would take to reach the nearest port, for even though he knew their rough location he would need Yeosang here to get a more precise estimate. 

If rival ships were sailing these same seas like San had claimed, then they couldn’t risk taking on any damage that might prevent them from reaching port in time. They could always steal supplies if a battle was unavoidable, but he didn’t want to rely on that. At least if they encountered enemy ships while docked, an escape would be easier to plan than if they were ambushed on the seas. 

These thoughts continually circled around his mind until the two people he was looking for walked through the door, seemingly not surprised to find Hongjoong waiting for them. “We saw San by the bathroom, and he told us what he saw last night, so we figured you would be here already,” Yunho explained, answering the question that must have been written on Hongjoong’s face, and the two of them slid into the seats to his right and left. 

“I’m surprised Wooyoung isn’t making breakfast yet,” Yeosang mused, and he did have a point - Wooyoung usually had breakfast already prepared by the time the others started trickling into the cafeteria. Hongjoong had seen no sign of the boy so far that morning, the kitchen on the other side of the room completely untouched. 

He shrugged in response, and they didn’t linger on the topic, for more pressing matters were at hand. Hongjoong repeated the story from that morning, his two companions listening closely, anxiety clouding the air around all three of them. Yunho let loose a low whistle, resting his chin against his palm as he leaned forward to look past Hongjoong at Yeosang. “How far are we from port, do you think?” 

Yeosang pursed his lips in thought, eyes scanning over the maps as he seemed to consider the answer. For a navigator, Yeosang was incredibly proficient, always remembering their position and keeping his bearings even when they were forced off course. His fingers were clasped around his beat up old compass, and he glanced down at it before returning to the map, tracing a delicate finger along the expanse of blue that represented the sea.

“We are about here,” he indicated, resting the tip of his finger on a spot with land bordering to the right. “San said that he saw the ship on the right side of us, right? Chances are, they’re probably heading for the same port, so if they’re peaceful they will hopefully just continue in that direction, and we won’t encounter them until we arrive.” 

He didn’t complete the other side of that though, however, and Yunho did it for him. “But if they’re not, they could easily intercept us,” he countered, and Yeosang sighed as he nodded. “Well, that’s just great. And why do I have a sneaking suspicion that this is the same ship we raided a few months ago? No other ship would have reason to mess with us right now, but we’ve been waiting for them to strike back. It was only a matter of time.” 

Cursing under his breath, Hongjoong busied his fingers with the edge of the nearest map, fiddling with the worn parchment as he spoke. “I’ve been thinking the same fucking thing,” he admitted, though the thought pained him. “I honestly doubt that we’ll make it much farther without some kind of ambush. There’s not much we can do to prepare, and I really hope we’re wrong.” Another battle was the last thing Hongjoong wanted to deal with right now when his crew was barely even under his command anymore, but he had a feeling that would change once an enemy ship was right on their tail. No matter how his crew felt towards him after his treatment of Seonghwa, he knew that they counted on his orders to hold the deck in the face of their enemies, that they trusted him when it came to battle. 

His train of thought was interrupted when the door banged open, and all three of them looked up to find Wooyoung hurrying to the kitchen, his rapid breathing audible in the otherwise silent room. “I’m so sorry - I overslept, but I’ll start making breakfast now!” He called over his shoulder, and the three of them shared what was meant to be an exasperated glance, although it was more fond than anything else. 

With Wooyoung here, Hongjoong didn’t want to mention anything else about a potential attack, and the others seemed to agree. “How are we doing on supplies?” Yeosang asked, directing the conversation away from the enemy sails, and Hongjoong reached for one of the other scrolls of parchment he had placed on the table. 

Unfurling it, he showed Yunho and Yeosang the calculations he had done a few days prior, all written in his cramped handwriting. “We still have plenty of time before we would actually be in danger of running out, but I don’t want us to get to that point. Most of our crates are empty, and I don’t think we want to be subsisting on only dried foods for longer than we have to.” They both nodded in response to that, for Hongjoong’s words were punctuated by the sizzle of the stove as Wooyoung cooked, the smell traveling over to their table. 

Mouth watering, Hongjoong rolled up the scroll again, gathering up his maps as well. He would have stayed until breakfast was ready, but he didn’t want to run into a situation if he was already sitting at the table when Seonghwa arrived. As he was getting to his feet the door opened again, and he glanced over as dread pooled in his gut, but thankfully it was just Jongho. 

The boy waved towards the table before walking over to Wooyoung, a teasing smile already playing on his lips before any actual words were said. “So, I heard someone forgot to make breakfast this morning,” he drawled, and Wooyoung shot him a glare, elbowing him in the side. 

“What do you think I’m doing right now, then?” he shot back, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but grin at their banter. 

Jongho laughed, leaning against the counter despite Wooyoung’s attempt to push him away, eyes dancing with mirth. “You forgot to make it on time, is what I meant. Seonghwa told me that you were up talking to him half the night - it’s no wonder you overslept, since he’s too nice to tell you to shut up and go to sleep. You probably annoy the poor guy half to death.” His tone made it clearly that he was only joking, and Wooyoung shook his head, sticking his tongue out at Jongho. 

“He loves me,” Wooyoung declared proudly, blowing out the stove flame and grasping the handle of the pan he was using. “And just for that, I’m going to give you less breakfast than everyone else. That’ll teach you not to mess with the person who cooks your food, you ungrateful bastard.” 

Laughter erupted from both Yunho and Yeosang at that, and Hongjoong chuckled to himself as well, clutching his maps to his chest as he raised a hand towards the kitchen in farewell. “I’ll be back later to eat,” he said softly, ducking his head when Wooyoung’s face fell. The cook appeared like he wanted to protest, but he must have thought better of it, instead just plastering a smile onto his lips. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t let Jongho steal any of your portion,” he reassured with a glint of mischief in his eye, and he yelled far louder than necessary when Jongho smacked his arm.

“Oh, you little-” Jongho started to reply, and Hongjoong vacated the room before they summoned him to settle their argument, not wanting to get involved lest they focus their teasing on him instead. He still felt a little strange around the others, unsure of where he stood with them after everything, but he could tell from how they tried to talk to him normally that they didn’t want this tension to linger any longer than he did. 

Thankfully, he was able to avoid Seonghwa as he retreated back to his quarters, and he didn’t actually run into the man until later that day, when he went to go grab his dinner. He didn’t mind going to the kitchen just for that reason when the others were there, but he just never chose to stick around, not wanting to deal with the change in atmosphere. He had grown used to seeing Seonghwa around here and there, and he didn’t feel as hostile as he had at first, but that didn’t mean he had any desire to spend any actual time around him. 

Soft voices carried through the door, and he pushed it open to find only two people inside, Wooyoung standing by the stove finishing making dinner while Seonghwa took a dented tin cup from the stack on the counter and filled it up in the sink. Upon the sound of the door opening, they both glanced in his direction, the two of them reacting very differently. Wooyoung’s face lit up, while Seonghwa seemed to freeze in alarm, his lips parting.

Every other time they had run into each other, Seonghwa had been able to either make an escape or start talking to another member of the crew in order to avoid Hongjoong’s presence, but he couldn’t do either of those things this time and Hongjoong could see from the look on his face that he knew it. 

Under his gaze, Seonghwa visibly panicked, turning back to the sink and accidentally dropping the cup in his hands, water splashing everywhere as it clattered down into the sink. He was visibly shaking from the back as he grabbed for the cup again and started to fill it, reaching for the next one when he was done and resolutely ignoring Hongjoong’s presence behind him. 

Watching him struggle, Hongjoong couldn’t find any shred of smugness within himself. He felt bad that he was having such a detrimental effect on Seonghwa, for it was harder to hate him when they weren’t speaking to one another. When they weren’t flinging insults back and forth, Seonghwa didn’t seem nearly as vicious, and Hongjoong wasn’t sure how an interaction between the two of them would go now that so much time had passed. 

Instead of finding out, he just directed his gaze towards Wooyoung, approaching the boy and watching as he filled a plate with food. “Here, Hongjoong,” he offered, holding it out in front of him, and Hongjoong took it with a smile as he reached out a hand to ruffle Wooyoung’s hair. 

“Thanks, Wooyoungie,” he answered, pleased to find that broccoli had been on the menu that night, his portion of the vegetable noticeably larger than it should have been. When they all ate together they always served themselves, so he usually just took more broccoli for himself since none of the others ever minded, but it still made Hongjoong’s heart feel warm to know that Wooyoung had taken note of that. 

Sharing a smile, Hongjoong turned to leave the room, his boots sounding against the floor as he approached the door. He spared one last glance towards Seonghwa, who had now finished filling the cups but still stood facing the sink, his hands gripping at the sides of his pants as if he were trying to stop them from shaking. His smile fell away at the sight, and he vacated the room quickly, not wanting to prolong his suffering. 

He figured that they were planning on eating dinner out on the deck that night, and Hongjoong could have lingered in order to eat in the cafeteria by himself, but he chose not to. Voices from the deck carried easily through the cabin door, and he didn’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation, even though he had never had any qualms about doing so before. 

From the times they had encountered one another, Seonghwa had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want to be around Hongjoong, and it felt like too much of an invasion of privacy to listen in on him speaking comfortably around the others. He didn’t want to learn anything else about the man that would soften his heart further, and so he chose to carry his plate down to his room, eating at his desk like he had grown used to doing. 

Eating with his crew was something he missed more and more with each day that passed, but he also knew that the only person standing in his way was himself. His friends had invited him to eat with them continually, and he always declined out of fear that things would blow up again. A tentative peace had formed on the ship, and he didn’t want to be the one to destroy it, no matter how they assured him that himself and Seonghwa would like each other if they would just take that step. 

Hongjoong wasn’t so sure about that, for he knew himself well enough to know that his own stubborn pride would likely get in the way as soon as Seonghwa said anything snarky to him. Just because he didn’t act like that with the others didn’t mean that he would suddenly change his behavior around Hongjoong as well, and he wasn’t keen on finding out. Things were fine as they were right now. 

At least, he could tell himself that so he wouldn’t have to disrupt this fragile balance. 

A few nights later, however, Hongjoong was preparing for bed in his own room when he heard a lot of noise coming from down the hall. He poked his head through a crack in his door to see where it was coming from, and he was just able to see Wooyoung leading Seonghwa into the crew quarters, raucous laughter and loud voice greeting them as they disappeared from his view. Usually at this time, the two of them were already asleep down in the cell…  and Hongjoong understood what had changed as he carefully closed his door again. 

For whatever reason, Seonghwa hadn’t wanted to sleep up in the cabin with the rest of the crew upon his freedom, but that seemed to have changed now. Hongjoong had never understood his reasoning in the first place, for he couldn’t fathom why someone who had been locked up for so long would choose to willingly go back inside of those bars, but he had the sense that something had shifted now. 

Seonghwa was eating meals with his crew, sleeping in the same room as his crew, and every time Hongjoong happened to see him he was always with at least one of them. He was beginning to integrate into their lives here on the ship, becoming a permanent fixture no matter how much Hongjoong hated it. As far as he was concerned, Seonghwa would never be a member of his crew, but his stomach filled with dread as he wondered if that would be the next cause for argument between himself and the people he loved. 

His crew meant too much to him for someone else to be allowed a place within it so easily, but he had the feeling that none of the others felt the same way. They clearly cared for both himself and Seonghwa, and he didn’t want to face the pain of watching them choose the other man again, leaving him here alone. It was easier to separate himself by choice, despite how it hurt his heart at the same time. 

Trying to ignore the voices sounding through his door, Hongjoong climbed into bed, pulling the covers up under his chin and curling his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut with force as he listened to the laughter of his family as they embraced someone new. How could he believe that he was still welcome among them when they had clearly filled his empty space? 

It never even occurred to him that eight could be as strong of a number as seven, that the thought of replacing one person for another had never even crossed the minds of his crew members. And how could he have realized that when he had been told he was worthless his whole life? All this time, he had feared that they would discover how much he was lacking, so he could only see their current situation through that lens. 

No matter how many times they assured him otherwise, they would never understand that his years of conditioning to hate himself would always outweigh their words. They could never understand how he struggled.

As far as Hongjoong knew, no one could.

Chapter Text

The sound of the door bursting open stirred Hongjoong from a deep sleep, though he didn’t fully open his eyes until two hands were pushing against his shoulder, frantic and forceful. A familiar voice called his name, and he felt his blankets twist around his legs as he shuffled away from the touch, vision snapping into focus as he registered that San had come into his room, just like he had that night about a week ago. 

This time, however, his face was warped in fear, his eyes penetrating through the otherwise dark room as he leaned over the bed, grasping Hongjoong’s wrist within shaking fingers. “The ship - it’s here. The mist was so thick that I could barely see anything all night, and I didn’t see it until - until it was really close. They’re almost here, Hongjoong, what are we gonna do?” His voice was bordering on hysterics, and Hongjoong sat up straight in his bed, a cold sweat immediately washing over his skin. 

“How close are they?” He asked, keeping his tone level as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, quickly pulling off his pajamas and changing into clothes more practical for an incoming battle. Panicked as he was, he remained steady in the face of the threat, his hands practiced and firm as he pulled on his steel toed boots next. Hongjoong was used to facing danger, and his crew couldn’t have a captain who fell apart under this kind of pressure. 

San was still standing by the bed, his entire body stiff as he bit down hard on his lower lip. “They’ll be upon us in probably twenty minutes, if I had to guess. But the mist - it’s so thick, they could be even closer than it looks. I was looking in that direction all night, I can’t believe I didn’t see them. They’re close enough to shoot at us, but they aren’t.”

Letting out a curse, Hongjoong pulled out the set of leather armor that he kept beside his bed at all times. “It has to be the ship we raided a few months ago. They won’t shoot, because they want to return the favor. But we’re in no position to lose supplies.” He clenched his jaw hard enough to feel the strain in his teeth, tightening the breastplate of his armor and making sure the padding covered the most vital areas. 

Hongjoong didn’t want to say his other suspicion aloud for fear of scaring San further, but this felt like more than just a raid. They were so close to port now that it made no sense to risk crew members for the sake of supplies. He suspected that their main motive was to slaughter, and a drop of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, sending a brief chill along the skin as he finished adjusting his armor.

Leather armor did little against a sword or bullet, but it could mean the difference between a survivable wound and a deadly one, so they always wore it during battle. Satisfied that his was secure, Hongjoong crossed the room to the door, beckoning for San to follow along. “I’ll wake the others and explain the situation. I need you to go back out there and report to me how much closer they’ve gotten, and then put your armor on and grab your bow. We don’t have time to waste.”

Without waiting for San’s response, Hongjoong strode out into the hallway, steps purposeful as he first went to the weaponry, scanning over the variety of blades and other weapons until his eyes settled on the familiar engraved hilt of his sword. He wrapped his fingers around the grip, breathing deeply for a moment as he sunk deeper into the headspace he needed for battle, all emotions carefully locked away to make room for his ruthlessness to rage.

Fastening the sword to its usual place in his belt, he left the room and headed back towards the crew quarters, stopping just outside the door. “Go, now!” He yelled at San, who still lingered a few steps behind him, though he startled into action at the command and took off at a run down the hall, disappearing from view in seconds. 

Hongjoong’s voice had been loud in the otherwise silent ship, and he hoped that the others were already stirring, for he needed them wide awake and ready to fight in a matter of minutes. Reaching for the doorknob, he twisted it with more force than necessary, pushing the door open and ignoring how it rebounded against the wall. The room was shrouded in darkness, but he could see the members of his crew sitting up in their beds, heads turning to stare as Hongjoong stepped inside. 

Only one of their number had already vacated his bunk, and Seonghwa must have been about to open the door himself, for now he stood awkwardly to the side just a short distance from Hongjoong. His mind didn’t linger on this, however, for only one thing mattered right now, and he knew that the others must have already noted his armor and the gleaming blade hanging at his side. 

“The rival ship will be flooding us within minutes - the mist is very thick tonight, and San wasn’t able to see their ship coming until it was too late. They no doubt bided their time, waiting for the hang of invisibility like the cowards they are. Get ready as fast as you can, we need all hands on deck. Their crew is twice the size of ours,” Hongjoong informed quickly, keeping his voice steady for their benefit, his worry already locked away even in the face of a situation as unfavorable as this one. 

For a split second, the room seemed to freeze in a momentary silence, his words hanging in the air as the others processed why they had been pulled from sleep in the middle of the night. Hongjoong could see the moment their faces changed from confused to unnerved, the silence shattering as they all began to clamber from their bunks, reaching for the bins that stored their armor and not bothering to change out of their pajamas. 

Hongjoong stayed in place by the open door, watching to make sure that none of them needed help and trying not to stare as Wooyoung led Seonghwa over to his own bin. The boy hadn’t so much as touched the armor in there in ages, and Hongjoong had to press his lips together tight to avoid interrupting the two of them as Wooyoung awkwardly attempted to strap on his breastplate. 

Due to their proximity, he couldn’t ignore their voices, though he didn’t let it show on his face that he was listening as he continued to scan the entire room. “Wooyoung, you don’t have to go out there. You can find somewhere to hide, where they won’t find you,” Seonghwa urged, his voice gentle but insistent, and Hongjoong was surprised to learn that he did know the truth of Wooyoung’s fear of battle, even if he wasn’t aware of the full extent of the problem. 

He sounded genuinely nervous, as if the thought of Wooyoung being on the deck in a situation like this one struck fear into his heart, and Hongjoong actually found himself relating to the man for once. “It’s no use,” Wooyoung replied, dread weighing down his words. “They most likely intend to raid our ship - just like we’ve done to theirs in the past. They would find me if I tried to hide.” 

Hongjoong couldn’t resist casting a glance towards the two of them at that, understanding that Wooyoung wasn’t quite telling the truth. He had hidden during plenty of raids before, because he would still be safer elsewhere than out on the deck with no ability to defend himself, and Hongjoong and the others had always managed to keep enemies out of the cabin. For some reason, Wooyoung didn’t want to hide this time, and although Hongjoong wanted to protest he forced himself not to. 

Instead, he caught Wooyoung’s eye over Seonghwa’s shoulder, who was facing Wooyoung and didn’t see their silent exchange. Hongjoong quirked a brow, but he still remained silent as he nodded once, the movement barely visible. Still, he knew Wooyoung had seen it, for he could see the gratitude in his gaze before he focused once more on Seonghwa. He didn’t like the idea of Wooyoung staying out on the deck, but he wouldn’t fight with the boy again either, and he finally felt like he had gained some ground.

Hongjoong was fully prepared to guard Wooyoung with his life, and he was confident enough in his own abilities that he knew the boy would remain safe, unless none of them were left standing to defend him. And he would never allow that to happen, already losing himself to the desire to kill these pirates who dared to threaten the lives of his crew. They would pay with their own lives, and his fingers brushed over the hilt of his sword, itching to put it to use. 

He continued to watch as Seonghwa briefly left Wooyoung’s side, approaching Yunho and Mingi, both of them already strapped into their armor and speaking in tones too hushed for Hongjoong to hear. “Do either of you have armor I can wear,” Seonghwa interrupted, urgency clear in his voice. “I don’t like violence, but I know how to fight. I’ll protect Wooyoung.” He sounded so sure of himself, like he would stop at nothing to keep Wooyoung safe, and Hongjoong felt his interest swell as Yunho began to dig around in a bin for another set of armor. 

Surely Seonghwa wasn’t lying about something so dire, because if he was then he would swiftly receive a blade through the chest. He had to possess more sense than that, which meant that he must actually know how to fight. Yunho passed him a set of armor, saying something in return, though Hongjoong wasn’t listening anymore, his eyes set on Seonghwa as he turned back towards Wooyoung. 

His entire demeanor had changed now as he shouldered the burden of keeping Wooyoung safe, his features set in determination and his eyes darkening. He seemed to hold himself differently as well, standing taller and moving with the grace of someone who understood violence, and who would give themselves to ruthlessness in order to protect those they cared about. Hongjoong knew the look, because he often saw it in the reflection of his own sword during battle, the brief glimpses of his own face that stared back at him from the pools of blood at his feet. 

An hour prior, Hongjoong never would have trusted this man to protect one of his crew, but as he watched Seonghwa now he realized that he actually believed him. All he had ever done was lie to Hongjoong again and again during the interrogations, but he stood so solid now, so determined, that Hongjoong couldn’t find the distrust that usually flared in his presence. Something about him had changed in a matter of minutes, and no fear remained, no cowardice or weakness or any of the other qualities Hongjoong had always seen in him. 

He simply looked ready for bloodshed, and Hongjoong felt a shiver crawl its way down his spine. 

Unable to tear his eyes away, he continued to watch as Wooyoung helped Seonghwa to strap on the set of armor, the boy’s movements more precise now, a little less hopeless. He pulled the straps tight, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but take note of how the armor seemed to adhere to Seonghwa’s body, exposing just how scrawny he still was. His physical stature alone should have made him unintimidating, but something about the way he held himself countered that entirely. 

Everyone in the room was ready to go at that point, and Hongjoong sidestepped as Yunho and Mingi walked through the door, fully intending to follow even as his gaze lingered on Seonghwa and Wooyoung for another moment. He didn’t understand why he kept watching them - perhaps because he had never really witnessed them like this before, and he could tell from how they spoke to one another that they had come to love one another despite the short amount of time. He suddenly understood why Wooyoung had fought so hard to have Seonghwa freed, because he seemed to be more comfortable in his presence, less scared of the dangers that lurked just a few minutes away. 

Just as he was about to turn away and exit the room, Seonghwa moved forward, wrapping Wooyoung in an embrace so gentle that Hongjoong swore he could feel its warmth from where he stood. The two of them stood like that for several moments, and Hongjoong too felt frozen in place, taking note of how Seonghwa cradled the back of Wooyoung’s head with a delicate hand, holding onto him like he was the most precious thing on this earth. 

He was reminded of all the times he had failed to give Wooyoung that same comfort before a battle, when all he had wanted was to reach out and soothe away the boy’s fears but hadn’t known how. He still didn’t know how two people could embrace so easily, but he remembered what it had felt like to be held in Wooyoung’s arms that night in the kitchen, could still feel the way his heart had settled. 

Hongjoong had never been able to ease Wooyoung’s fear like that, but he surprised himself when he couldn’t find a shred of jealousy inside of his heart. He only felt grateful, that finally someone was able to do what he had never done. For the first time, he could understand how Wooyoung had benefited from Seonghwa’s presence on the ship, rather than only being able to see the negative sides of it. 

Wooyoung visibly trembled in Seonghwa’s hold, and Hongjoong could feel his own heart aching in remembrance of what that kind of physical love had felt like. Longing swelled within him as he noted how Seonghwa’s arms were wrapped tight and unflinching, Wooyoung’s face pressed into his neck, finding solace when he needed it most. 

Desperate to rid himself of the feeling, Hongjoong forcibly tore his eyes away from the pair, stepping out into the hallway and inhaling deeply. Mingi must have already started for the deck, but Yunho had chosen to hang back, and he fixed Hongjoong with a strange look, one eyebrow curved in interest. “You okay?” He asked, and Hongjoong just shot him a look, continuing to walk even as the first mate fell into step beside him. 

“I’m fine - I can’t be anything but fine, you know that,” he shot back gruffly, hardening himself once again as he thought of the threat that was nearly on top of them. He had no time to wonder about silly things like comfort when he would be leading his crew into a bloodbath in a matter of minutes. 

Yunho didn’t respond until they reached the door to the deck, grabbing the knob but not pushing it open right away. “You’re too stubborn, you know that?” A fond smile followed the words, though his fear was still visible as well. Hongjoong didn’t quite understand what he meant by that, but he had no time to ask as they stepped out onto the deck, the mist even thicker than Hongjoong had been expecting. 

Visibility was beyond poor, and the shadow of the enemy ship loomed to the right, shrouded in mist and suspending the ominous chill of fear in the thick air, so cloying that Hongjoong could hardly breathe. The night was oppressively dark, the mist blocking out most of the stars, only the light of the moon managing to break through. Not only would they be fighting with little time to prepare, but they wouldn’t even be able to see their opponents clearly. 

Stopping at the helm, Hongjoong waited for the rest of the crew to gather there as well, Wooyoung and Seonghwa hurrying out from the cabin last. He couldn’t even make out the details of his friend’s faces, but the gleam of their various weapons penetrated the low visibility, and he knew that they were as prepared as they could manage given the lack of time. It would have to be enough - there was no other option. 

He opened his mouth to speak, voice loud enough to carry over the harsh slap of the waves against the hull. “We are going to fight these cowards, and we are going to defeat them just as we have all the times before. They needed the element of surprise to make this as close as possible to an even playing field - all that tells us is that they know they can’t win against us in fair conditions. They fear us, and we know it. Use that to your advantage.” 

Turning to where Mingi had perched on the upper deck, Hongjoong resolutely ignored the bright pink pajamas the mechanic was still wearing, keeping his expression stony. The sight didn’t amuse him, not now - it only reminded him of just how unprepared they were. “Mingi, keep an eye on the battle and shoot who you can, but when they begin to lose numbers drastically enough, fire those cannons without a second thought.”

Mingi nodded in understanding, his typically cheerful nature entirely gone in the face of what was to come, replaced by a burning desire to destroy. Although Hongjoong’s crew were a childish group most of the time, they had gained their reputation on the seas for a reason, evident in the blazing resolve that emanated from each one of them now. 

“San, stay up in the crow’s nest and target their lookout, as well as any other hidden snipers they may have concealed on their ship,” he called to the lookout next, raising his voice louder in order to be heard. San had already headed for his post with his bow, but Hongjoong knew he had heard, and he didn’t spend any more time dwelling on that. No one was more proficient with a bow and arrow than San, and he chose to focus on that rather than the memory of what had happened last time. 

“The rest of us will fight down here. Do what you can to keep them at bay, but ultimately they will invade their way into our cabin. Keep your eyes open, don’t let any of them sneak up on you. We will try as hard as we can to prevent them from destroying what supplies we do have, but keeping yourselves alive is the top priority.” The command was followed by a round of stiff nods, all of them fully aware that time had run out and all they could do was fight and win. They had to win. 

All of his former hesitance entirely gone, Hongjoong’s eyes found Seonghwa next, unfaltering as he stared at him. Once an enemy, he now fought on their side, and no time remained for Hongjoong to doubt his motives. Despite his reluctance all this time, he fully leaned into how much he trusted the judgement of his crew now, needing them to be right about this man. His loyalties would be exposed this night, and Hongjoong had nothing left to lose, the odds already completely stacked against all of them. 

“You will do everything in your power to keep him safe,” he said with conviction, pouring all of his fears and doubts into that sentence, hoping that it would cut deep enough to evoke something in this man who had always been so carelessly defiant. Hongjoong couldn’t shake the memories of Wooyoung’s first battle on the ship, how he had crumbled completely, and his resentment was the last thing on his mind now. For the sake of his crew, he could sweep the negative feelings aside, staring at Seonghwa with nothing but undisguised urgency. 

Seonghwa appeared equally determined, and in the night he looked so similar to how he had while in the cell, like he had been woven from darkness itself. Only this time, the two of them were on the same side, and Hongjoong nodded once to convey his acknowledgment of that change. 

A beat of stillness hung between the two of them, and Hongjoong momentarily forgot about the enemy ship, the rough waves, everything. All that existed was the two of them, and when Seonghwa nodded back with the same certainty, something in the air seemed to shift. Hongjoong suddenly felt more confident than he had before, and he turned fully towards the incoming ship now, tasting the impending thrill of battle on his tongue. 

His crew began to scatter to their various posts, and Hongjoong chose his place directly in front of the cabin doors, fully prepared to defend the honor of his ship. This rival crew was more than twice the size of his own, and they held every advantage with their ambush, but this wouldn’t be the first time they had faced terrible odds. They were capable of more destruction than their enemies could possibly know, and he allowed himself a wicked smile, pulling his sword free from his belt.

The ship was upon them now, and their plank would undoubtedly drop in a matter of seconds. All of them stood tensed for battle, and Hongjoong spared one last glance towards Seonghwa and Wooyoung to his left, as far away from the enemy ship as was possible, and he was grateful that they had chosen a position not far from where he stood. He recalled what he had told San the night he had first seen the sails on the horizon, that he would do everything in his power to keep them all safe, including Seonghwa. 

He had no intention to go back on his word, and he brandished his sword with strength as the enemy plank clattered against their deck, bridging the gap between the two ships. There would be no avoiding bloodshed now, and Hongjoong eagerly awaited the first pirate that would make the mistake of stepping into the path of his sword. 

Heavy silence filled the air, thick as the mist that obscured their vision, and Hongjoong felt drops of sweat trickle down his neck despite the chill of the night. Several seconds passed in that manner, only the side of the plank touching their deck visible. Hongjoong was too far away to make out any movement on the enemy ship, and only the sound of the plank creaking alerted him to the mass of pirates that began to pour onto their deck, each one followed by another, all fully donned in armor with guns blazing and swords gleaming. 

A guttural cry escaped Hongjoong’s throat as he raised his sword to catch in the moonlight, a purposeful gesture. The reflecting light illuminated the face of a pirate headed directly in his direction, teeth bared in anger as he gripped a long silver spear in one of his hands. Dark hair clung to his forehead, and the moisture of the night had already beaded against his skin, glistening under the glow of the moon as he came close enough to thrust his spear forward. 

Hongjoong easily dodged the strike, his battle instincts returning to him as second nature as he danced away from the wicked point of the spear. Facing off against a weapon different from his own always provided a thrill, and he was quick to lash out with a strike of his own, feinting towards the pirate’s neck before lowering his blade and clipping his wrist instead. 

The man howled as blood gushed from the vulnerable inside skin of his arm, and Hongjoong let free a laugh that chilled even the icy wind. “Better luck next time,” he said sympathetically, before swinging his sword and slicing directly through the man’s neck. He fell to the deck with a thud, and Hongjoong wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Too bad your life ends here.” 

Another pirate rushed towards him, and Hongjoong tensed his arm again as their swords clashed, the vibrations traveling down his arm to his shoulder. His fingers were numb due to the cold air, but he hardly even noticed as he dropped his sword arm and ducked in time to feel the opposing blade gust over his head. A few pieces of his hair felt the man’s wrath as they were severed from the rest, drifting down to cling to his sleeve. 

Hongjoong glanced at the strands of hair no longer attached to his head, fixing the man with a murderous glare as he stood back up to his full height. “Now you’re fucking dead,” he snarled, dodging another strike of the man’s sword and purposely moving to the left, pretending to stumble from the fast movement. As the pirate prepared for another strike, Hongjoong raised his sword horizontal to the ground and jabbed it cleanly through the man’s ear, throwing his entire body weight into the strike. 

The jeering sneer froze on his face as the blade entered his brain, features slowly slackening as the force behind the strike sent him to his knees. Although he would surely die from a wound this severe, Hongjoong still placed both hands around the hilt of his sword and twisted with all his might, doing drastic damage to the soft, vulnerable brain behind this shattered section of skull. 

The pirate collapsed face first onto the deck, and Hongjoong tugged at his sword, but it was too embedded to easily pull free. Sweat dripping down his forehead and burning his eyes, Hongjoong braced the heel of his boot on the fallen man’s shoulder, pulling with both hands and gritting his teeth. With a sickening squelch, the blade slid back out of the hole in the man’s head, followed by a thick gush of blood. 

Accustomed to such brutality, Hongjoong’s stomach didn’t even react, and he didn’t bother wiping the blade as he scanned the deck, taking advantage of this brief moment without an opponent to check on his crew. Battle raged all over the deck, the majority of the wooden planks soaked in blood, but from what he could see none of his crew were hurt beyond a few minor gashes. 

Most of the barrels and crates on their deck had been pushed into the sea, and although Hongjoong had expected that he still felt his rage flare, desperate to cut down more of these men until none remained. He could already see more pirates heading for the cabin, and he quickly glanced over to his left with the seconds he had left before being swept into battle once more. 

Wooyoung was barely even visible in the corner, for Seonghwa stood stony in front of him, eyes roaming the deck as he waited for the first pirate to break free of the massacre and head their way. The only weapon he possessed was the throwing knife Hongjoong had inadvertently given him, and Hongjoong bit back a curse, praying that he would be able to cut down any pirates before they reached the two of them. That knife had seen plenty of bloodshed, but it was no match against a sword or spear, even if Seonghwa did possess skill in battle. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on that though, two burly pirates heading his way, their sights set on the cabin door. Narrowing his eyes, Hongjoong recognized one of them as the captain of the enemy ship, and he allowed himself to get lost in the bloodthirst as he beckoned them forward with a flick of his fingers. 

The other captain surged forward first, and even though the man must have been nearly double his size, Hongjoong felt no fear as he dodged a brutal overhead strike, one that would have cleaved his skull clean in two had it been allowed to land. Hongjoong smirked, light on his feet as he danced around the captain, willing to play this game if it meant tiring the larger man out. That was the main weakness of men this size - they relied on their strength, but against a more nimble opponent their strikes were more difficult to land successfully. 

Another heavy handed swing of the sword missed Hongjoong by a hair, and he grinned as he flicked his sword out behind him to nick the second opponent, unable to see where he had hit but reveling in the short cry of pain that reached his ears. “Too slow,” he taunted, and the captain growled, face reddening in anger. 

His next attempt was sloppy, and Hongjoong laughed lightly, his even breathing a sharp contrast to the labored breaths of both other men. The second man tried to slice at Hongjoong’s arm as he passed by, but hardly any momentum supported the strike, and Hongjoong caught the blade easily between both of his flattened palms, momentarily allowing his own sword to fall to the deck. No blood had even been drawn from the skin of his hands, and in his surprise the rival man loosened his grip. 

Hongjoong felt the tension give, and he yanked the blade in one seamless movement, grabbing the hilt and spinning around just in time to find the enemy captain trying to steal his sword from off the ground. Just as he was bending over, Hongjoong drove the pommel of the sword into the man’s nose, a wet crunch sounding as the cartilage was crushed to a pulp beneath the unyielding metal. 

The captain grasped at his nose with a howl of pain, falling back momentarily, and Hongjoong chucked away the sword in his hands, laughing as the second man ran after it. He knew he sounded maniacal, but he leaned into the feeling as he picked up his own sword again, the engravings comfortable against his calloused palms. “You dared to ambush this ship, and that was your first and last mistake,” he said, tone vicious as the other captain regained his bearings despite the blood pouring from his nose. “I will kill you and every last member of your crew.” 

The captain bared his teeth, voice gruff and garbled due to the mess of his nose. “You do nothing but avoid my strikes. A coward's way of fighting.” He spat a thick glob of blood and phlegm which splattered directly onto Hongjoong’s breastplate and mingled with the blood already coating the armor. 

Rage burned at the edges of Hongjoong’s vision, tinging the world red as he raised his sword, sick of the games. His limbs felt reinforced by his anger, and he met the captain’s next strike with an equal show of strength, watching the man’s superiority shift into momentary shock. He had clearly been expecting to knock Hongjoong’s sword away with ease, but Hongjoong had been underestimated his entire life, and he grinned through gritted teeth as he pressed harder into the other blade. 

The captain was strong as he was massive, but Hongjoong poured every ounce of strength held in each muscle into his defense, holding his own even though it should have been impossible. “I am a lot of things, but I am certainly not a coward. Not when facing the likes of you,” he spat, none of his muscles trembling. He had been violently shaped into a mold of brutality from the moment he had first used the knife now clenched in Seonghwa’s grip, only now he possessed no remorse for the lives he stole. 

Hongjoong had never known what it meant to be merciful, and neither would any pirate who dared to face him. Ever since he was five years old, he had taken the life of every single man he had ever sought to kill, with only two exceptions - his father, and the man who now wielded Hongjoong’s cursed blade. The two men he faced now would be cut down just like all of the others, and he kept his sword strong even as he dodged a jab from the second man, the blade cleaving through mist directly to his right. 

He was through with dragging this out, and he braced all of his strength against the rival captain’s sword as he removed one hand from the hilt. Moving with practiced ease, he pulled another throwing knife free from his belt, identical to the one he had lost to Seonghwa in everything but history. 

The knives had been part of a set, but Hongjoong would always know which one he had used to kill his first man, for his father had presented it to him as a twisted gift not long after that traumatic day, the only present he had ever received from the man. He had still been healing from all of the bones his father had snapped without an ounce of remorse, and that knife had killed countless men since that day. Eventually he had acquired the full set, but the original knife had always shown more wear than the rest. 

With the one in his hand now, Hongjoong reared his arm back and let it fly, his aim perfect as the blade sunk deep into the eye of the second man. 

He fell to the deck promptly upon the impact, and Hongjoong paid him no mind, returning his hand to the hilt of his sword and pressing back against the opposing captain with more force. The other blade didn’t budge, and Hongjoong knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, choosing instead to abruptly pull away, dodging the barreling path of his enemy’s sword. 

They quickly lapsed back into battle, only this time their movement was constant, slashes and jabs and parries as their blades moved quickly enough to flash in the moonlight. Hongjoong poured all of his strength into his sword, his strikes quick but unrelenting, and he knew that his skill outweighed that of the man he fought. 

He began to push forward, taking an offensive stance as the other captain had no choice but to defend. Caught in combat, Hongjoong still noticed when a hulking pirate headed toward him, and he tensed to prepare for another onslaught only for the man to bypass them completely. 

Hongjoong didn’t understand his intentions right away, but a chill shot through his blood when he realized, and he nearly forgot to parry the next strike in time, the blade coming dangerously close to his stomach and the soft organs protected inside. Jolting backwards, Hongjoong attacked with renewed force, his sword driving the other captain to rotate until Hongjoong was in the position to see Seonghwa and Wooyoung to his left. 

As suspected, the pirate had headed straight for them, and Hongjoong prepared himself to break free from the captain to defend them. Seonghwa still stood tall, his face set in determination as he stared down his attacker, his small knife completely dwarfed by the man’s sword. Hongjoong expected to find terror written in his features, but he could find no sign of it, and he wondered if he had been wrong to trust in Seonghwa’s ability to protect Wooyoung - he realized now that the man must have been arrogantly overestimating his skill level. 

Half focusing on his own opponent, Hongjoong watched when he could as Seonghwa darted forward and drew a line of blood along the pirate’s forearm. Blood splattered from the wound, but the man didn’t seem to falter as he swung his sword forward, aiming directly for Seonghwa’s throat. Hongjoong tensed in dread, still fighting with his own sword as he mentally pleaded for Seonghwa to dodge. If he died now, Hongjoong would never get to Wooyoung in time. 

His worry had been for nothing though, since Seonghwa expertly rolled underneath the slash, getting back to his feet faster than Hongjoong could even process the movement. Seonghwa seemed to know exactly what to do next, his face cold as steel when he surged forward again, this time inserting his knife right into the pirate’s side. 

Hongjoong figured the blow would weaken the man, but the blade was much too short to kill. He opened his mouth to scream at Seonghwa to back up, fearing that the man would strike back while Seonghwa stood so close, but his face slackened in surprise as a jet of blood exploded from the small knife wound. 

Stepping back, Seonghwa pulled the knife free and watched as his opponent fell at his feet, clearly dead even from a distance. Hongjoong couldn’t believe what he had just seen, and he had to force himself to focus on the other captain, his mind spinning. He had witnessed countless brutal killings in his life, had executed plenty of them himself, but never had he seen a man kill with such ease despite being so clearly outmatched. 

Hongjoong understood even less about Seonghwa than he had thought, but all he felt now was gratitude that the man was on their side. He had thought Seeonghwa was weak this entire time, his body frail and unassuming, but he knew now that he had been so incredibly wrong. 

He found himself wondering how Seonghwa had learned to defend himself like that, for the cold disconnect in his expression could only be the product of a past like his own. No one learned to fight like that without a wealth of traumatic experiences to go with it. 

Fatigue was beginning to set in as Hongjoong’s duel continued, and he tried his best to still catch glimpses of Seonghwa and Wooyoung, another pirate heading their way after seeing the death of the first. Seonghwa remained in place as he waited for the next man to approach, his face skeletal in the darkness, blood coating his arm that held the knife. He looked like a harbinger of death, the grim reaper himself, his eyes sunken in their sockets and his lips drawn into a firm line. 

Despite all of the lifeless bodies that littered the deck, weapons still flying as blood mingled with the mist, Seonghwa was still the scariest thing on the seas that night. 

He kept adjusting his grip around the knife as if his hand was bothering him, and Hongjoong hoped that he hadn’t sustained any wounds, although it was difficult to tell when his arm was drenched in blood. As the next pirate approached, Hongjoong watched when he could as Seonghwa took him down with more ease than should have been possible, again doling out a killing blow in record time. 

Once Hongjoong was sure the pirate was dead, he redirected his focus back to the captain in front of him, his arms beginning to tremble with fatigue. He didn’t let it show, but he knew that both of their blows were slowing down, the other man equally exhausted. One of them would have to give soon, and the rival captain must have known that as well, for he began to press back with more force, using what remained of his strength. 

Hongjoong had no choice but to defend, the man pushing him back with each strike, the two of them rotating slowly. He could no longer see Seonghwa and Wooyoung, and panic gripped his chest even though Seonghwa had clearly proven himself capable of defending them both. 

Sweat dripped down into Hongjoong’s eyes, and he blinked rapidly to clear his vision, clenching his teeth hard enough to hurt as he tried to hold his ground. He thought for a moment that he heard someone yell, and his heart stuttered in fear that something had happened to Seonghwa or Wooyoung, remembering his assurance to San. He couldn’t let anything happen to either of them. 

The other captain swung his sword harder than ever, and Hongjoong couldn’t turn even as dread soaked through to his bones, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Suddenly he knew that someone was behind him, that he had been so focused on Seonghwa and Wooyoung that he had forgotten to watch his own back. He braced for the blow, but it never came. 

Instead, warm liquid drenched his back, the sounds of bodies thudding to the ground coming from directly behind him, and despite how badly Hongjoong wanted to turn around he knew he couldn’t until he eliminated the threat in front of him. The captain faltered as he stared at whatever had happened over Hongjoong’s shoulder, and that was all he needed to drive his sword directly through the man’s neck. 

He felt the resistance of bone as the jab severed the spine, and when Hongjoong pulled his sword free, part of the captain’s esophagus came out with it. Hongjoong had no time to enjoy his victory, however, turning on his heel and taking in the sight of two bodies on the ground, covered in blood. One was an enemy, but the other he instantly recognized as Seonghwa, and his heart stopped for a moment when he thought the man was dead. 

Seonghwa was sprawled on the deck, face and torso entirely drenched in blood, and only the sound of his gagging alerted Hongjoong to the fact that he was not dead. The other pirate definitely was, his throat cut so deep that nearly half of his neck had been severed, the murder weapon none other than the tiny knife clutched in Seonghwa’s trembling grip. 

A blur of motion passed by as a third person dropped to their knees beside Seonghwa’s crumpled form, Wooyoung’s hands quivering violently as they flitted over Seonghwa’s body before settling on his shoulders and frantically shaking him. “Seonghwa, are you hurt? Seonghwa, please, are you okay?” He was borderline hysterical, stumbling over the words as he searched for a wound, whatever had made Seonghwa collapse to the deck. 

After watching Seonghwa fight, Hongjoong was sure that he hadn’t been wounded, confirmed a moment later when Seonghwa weakly raised his empty hand to squeeze where Wooyoung gripped his shoulder, the touch leaving behind streaks of dark, sticky blood. 

Hongjoong knew deep down what was wrong with him, and his mind spun as he devised a plan, reaching over and grabbing Wooyoung around the upper arm to get his attention. “Bring him back to where you were!” He shouted above the sounds of battle, glancing behind to make sure no enemies were headed their way yet. 

Positioning both hands beneath Seonghwa’s arms, Wooyoung dragged him back towards the corner, fear shining in his eyes. Hongjoong guarded them both the whole way, his sword ready, all former fatigue entirely forgotten. 

Upon reaching the spot, Wooyoung let go and instantly sunk to the ground beside Seonghwa, wrapping his arms tight around the other man as he cried openly. Hongjoong could see how badly Seonghwa was shaking, his eyes open but far away, but he still held tight to Wooyoung’s hand in his own blood covered one. 

Something about the killing, whether it had been the blood or the type of wound or something else entirely, had brought Seonghwa’s mind somewhere else, wrapped in a traumatic memory as his breaths escaped in short, panicked bursts. Hongjoong knew what had happened because he had experienced similar breakdowns many times in his life, empathy surging as he stood in front of the two of them. Newfound determination fueled him now, and when the enemy pirates began to approach, he played no more games. 

All he did was kill, just as Wooyoung had accused him of that time so many weeks ago, only now he was killing in order to defend the very man he had wanted to execute back then. His mind screamed at him to protect, and so that was what he did, cutting through threats like their skin and bones posed no resistance, jabbing through hearts with enough force for his blade to erupt through the other side. 

He was covered in blood from head to toe, standing in his own personal lake as he slaughtered anyone who dared to threaten the two lives behind him. Sparing a glance backwards, he made brief eye contact with Seonghwa. Wooyoung had propped him against where the deck railing and the cabin met, and the boy was sobbing as he wrapped himself around Seonghwa’s shaking form. 

In his eyes, Seonghwa found panic so visceral that his protective instinct rose in response, the man who had been so fearsome minutes ago now fallen victim to a memory. His chest heaved visibly, his face gaunt and terrified, and Hongjoong couldn’t shake the image even as he struck down his next opponent with vicious brutality. 

He sliced off the man’s face from the nose down, blood and bone splattering to the deck, his entire jaw gone. All that remained beneath his eyes was a gaping hole of gore and exposed muscle, and garbled sounds escaped where his mouth had been, no tongue or teeth left to create words. 

Hongjoong ran his blade through the man’s chest a second later, ending his misery with one thrust, better than he deserved. The killing seemed to have no end, until all of a sudden it did, the opponents thinning out as the first hints of dawn arrived. 

One last pirate threw himself at Hongjoong, and as he fought off the enemy he scanned for the others, fear easing as he found them all standing in various states of exhaustion. “Mingi, now!” He yelled as loud as he could manage, and Mingi nodded to indicate that he had heard. Hongjoong didn’t allow his gaze to linger, searching for Yeosang as the boom of cannons began to fill the air. 

“Yeosang, get us the hell out of here!” The navigator stood at the helm, and he must have managed to hear Hongjoong over the sound of the cannons, for the ship was moving not long after, finally pulling away from their enemies. The plank fell, and the few pirates that remained by the rails tried to make it over in time, though Hongjoong didn’t particularly care if they fell down into the waves or not. With so many of their crew slaughtered, they wouldn’t be a threat for a long, long time. 

The next minutes seemed to fly by as Hongjoong helped Yunho and Jongho to drag the bodies off the deck and into the sea, though he couldn’t help but spare the occasional glance back towards Seonghwa and Wooyoung, the two of them still curled up together on the ground. Seonghwa seemed to be more aware now, and he held Wooyoung to his chest, fingers carding through his hair as they spoke softly to one another. 

Hongjoong had to look away, his eyes burning at the easy show of affection, though he was glad that they had each other. Exhaustion hung over every one of them, and Hongjoong just wanted this day to be over, though the sun hadn’t even risen yet. 

None of them were seriously injured, and he was finally able to breathe easier when San climbed down from the crow’s nest, all of them accounted for and safe. As the lookout stepped down onto the deck, he instantly scanned the area, and Hongjoong knew exactly who he was looking for, stepping forward before he could interrupt the pair recovering in the corner. 

He grabbed San’s hand, forcing the boy to stop in his tracks, feeling his own features soften as he took in the panic on San’s face. “They’re okay,” he assured quickly, squeezing the hand wrapped within his own, which was a big gesture from him considering how he normally avoided physical touch whenever he could. San stared at him with eyes wide, darting between Hongjoong and the other side of the deck, and Hongjoong sighed. 

“They’re both safe,” he promised, for he was certain of that one thing. “Something happened - the blood, it made Seonghwa panic, but he defended Wooyoung as best as he could until I could defend them both. He - he saved my life, actually. You don’t have to worry, okay? They just need some space right now.” He kept his voice as gentle as possible, and he watched San’s fear dissipate as he spared one last glance in the direction of Seonghwa and Wooyoung, his gaze sorrowful but understanding. 

Instead, he headed in Yeosang’s direction, but Hongjoong lingered for a moment before following, still watching the two huddled together by the railing. They looked like they had known each other for their whole lives as opposed to just a handful of months, and they seemed to fit together seamlessly, like they were two halves of one whole. Hongjoong had never known that feeling, but he could see how they were both gaining strength from holding one another. 

Even as the others spoke in low tones, Hongjoong couldn’t tear his eyes away as Wooyoung finally lifted his head, both of their lips moving even though Hongjoong was too far away to detect what they were saying. One moment they were calmly sharing in their embrace, and the next Seonghwa was shooting to his feet, moving too fast for Hongjoong to process until he was bent over the rails, heaving into the rough waters below. 

“Wait, what happened?” San asked frantically as he stared in their direction as well, and all of the others turned their heads at the question, various exclamations of surprise and concern leaving their lips. 

Hongjoong was the only one not shocked by the sudden change in Seonghwa’s behavior, and he pursed his lips as he held out an arm, effectively keeping his crew from rushing forward. “Leave them be,” he ordered softly, surprised at the pain in his own voice. He understood what Seonghwa was experiencing, even if he didn’t know what the exact trigger had been, and he swallowed thickly as he watched Wooyoung begin to rub Seonghwa’s back gently. 

For the first few years, Hongjoong had reacted similarly every time he had to kill a man, remembering what it had felt like to stab down into that pirate’s neck, taking the only life that had ever shown him a shred of compassion. The memory had haunted him despite how the pirate had urged him not to let his death be a burden, and all he had been able to do after killing was shiver in a ball on his bed, vomiting all over himself and the sheets, unable to move for hours. 

Something had triggered Seonghwa to react similarly, and Hongjoong’s sympathy was so intense that he felt slightly nauseated himself as he watched the man’s back heave, his legs hardly able to support his weight. Despite their dislike for one another, no one deserved to experience that kind of pain, and Hongjoong itched to do something even though he knew that he could provide no help. 

What Seonghwa needed was time, and so Hongjoong gave that to him, keeping the others away and giving him space to overcome his memories however he needed. It was the least he could do, for Seonghwa had only reacted like that after saving Hongjoong’s life, and he couldn’t help but hold himself partially responsible for the other man’s pain. 

His heart ached as he noticed Seonghwa scratching at his arms, glancing down at the light self inflicted scars that decorated his own arms and wondering if Seonghwa had ones of his own. The irony didn’t escape him, that the man he had spent months hating was also the man he could relate to more strongly than anyone else on this ship. The others had always spoken about how similar they were, but they hadn’t even understood just how right they were. 

Hongjoong hadn’t understood it either until this moment, and he watched as Wooyoung pulled Seonghwa’s hands away from his arms, handling him like he was made of the most precious china. Longing hit him like a punch to the gut, for no one had ever done that for Hongjoong before. He had never let anyone in far enough to try, and now all he could do was watch as someone else received the comfort he had always yearned for but never allowed himself to have. 

All this time, he had assumed that the others would be scared to see him react in such a violent manner, had hidden those parts of himself away for fear of losing them, so to watch Wooyoung handle Seonghwa so gently made him wonder if he had been wrong all along. He didn’t know what Seonghwa had endured in his past, but it couldn’t have been pleasant, and yet the others didn’t seem to think of him any differently as they watched him break down. 

They didn’t understand, but clearly they wanted to, and Hongjoong wondered if they would extend him the same grace if he ever learned how to lower his walls. 

Seonghwa was still gagging even when nothing else remained in his stomach, and eventually Hongjoong crossed the deck with a muttered word to the others to stay put. He approached Wooyoung, softening his voice as he noticed how upset the boy looked, his cheeks shiny with tears. “You should take him to the bathroom, get him cleaned up,” he suggested. “He’s not going to stop until the blood is gone. He’s comfortable with you, he’ll let you clean him.” 

He had managed to piece together that the blood must have been the triggering factor, and Seonghwa was still covered in it. Wooyoung looked at him strangely before nodding, as if he hadn’t thought Hongjoong capable of speaking so gently. The boy turned to Seonghwa and murmured something to him, but Hongjoong didn’t stick around to watch, giving them privacy as he strode back to the others. He was sure that the last thing Seonghwa wanted was to see the man who had tortured him when he was in such a state. 

All of them watched as Wooyoung led Seonghwa inside, although the man turned his head to look at them on the way, forcing a wavering smile onto his face. And suddenly, Hongjoong couldn’t fathom how this was the same person who had appeared so terrifying during battle, for now he just looked sad, his eyes drooping and the corners of his lips trembling. 

“Thank you for saving them,” San blurted as the two of them headed inside, and Hongjoong wanted so badly to echo the statement, although he knew he would never be able to get the words out. Seonghwa had saved his life, and he hadn’t even said thank you. It seemed that with every new thing Hongjoong learned about the man, he was further confronted with the fact that he had always been in the wrong, that Seonghwa had never been the monster Hongjoong had wanted him to be. 

Everything after that blurred together, and Hongjoong followed the others as they all headed into the cabin, giving Wooyoung and Seonghwa privacy in the bathroom and gathering in the crew quarters instead. Hongjoong sat on the floor beside Yunho, pulling off his armor immediately, although blood still crusted his clothing to his skin. He wanted to scratch it all away, but he busied himself instead by fiddling with the straps of his discarded armor, not listening as the others spoke in hushed tones. 

Eventually, the door opened, and Hongjoong glanced up as Seonghwa and Wooyoung shuffled inside. They both appeared to be exhausted, but Seonghwa looked considerably better now that he was clean, wet hair plastered to his forehead. He looked remarkably young like this, and Hongjoong had to look away after a moment, clearing his throat as his cheeks burned. Seonghwa always seemed to have that effect on him ever since he had been freed, although Hongjoong didn’t understand why. 

The man began to assess each of the crew, stopping to evaluate their injuries with a practiced hand, and Hongjoong had forgotten the security that came from having an actual doctor on board. Yeosang had always done his best, but Seonghwa knew exactly what he was doing, and for once Hongjoong knew that his crew was in capable hands. 

He listened idly as Seonghwa assessed Yunho, his sprained wrist turning out to be the worst of their injuries, a miracle considering how outnumbered they had been. Hongjoong shivered as he thought about what could have become of him if Seonghwa hadn’t been there, his crew left to fend for themselves without their captain. 

“I’ll check you over now - are there any areas causing you pain?” Seonghwa’s voice interrupted Hongjoong’s train of thought, and his head snapped up to stare at the doctor, a lump lodging in his throat and refusing to budge as he watched him busy himself with the bandages he carried in his arms. Hongjoong knew he was doing it to avoid eye contact, and his heart sank for reasons he didn’t understand. 

He realized that he was taking too long to respond, and his mind went blank as he glanced down at himself, about to say that he hadn’t sustained any injuries until he realized that it wasn’t actually true. A gash had been opened along his forearm, and he vaguely recalled the enemy captain’s sword slicing his skin, although he hadn’t even processed the wound at the time. “The other captain’s sword got my forearm before I could move it - the bleeding stopped, but I think it’s pretty deep.”

Yunho’s gaze practically burned a hole through the side of Hongjoong’s head as he listened to their interaction, and Hongjoong resolutely ignored him, although he knew the reason for the stare. He had always been one to dismiss his injuries and take care of them himself, and he didn’t understand why he had chosen to be honest this time any more than Yunho did. 

Seonghwa nodded and reached for Hongjoong’s wounded arm, the tips of his fingers cold as they brushed over the skin, examining the slice on his arm and the red tinged skin around it. “The wound is thin, but it does go very deep. Don’t worry about the red skin around it - your body is just trying to eliminate any bacteria that entered the cut during the battle,” he explained, his voice soft and anxious, as if he assumed Hongjoong would hurt him if he didn’t explain his reasoning. 

Guilt pooled heavy in Hongjoong’s gut, but he made no move to speak, not wanting to scare the man any further. “It definitely needs stitches,” Seonghwa continued, still gently prodding at his arm. “It’s pretty deep, so they’ll help keep out infection.” Hongjoong nodded silently, and he watched as Seonghwa got to his feet, much steadier than he had been out on the deck. He said something about gathering supplies from the infirmary before heading for the door, and before Hongjoong could think better of it, he got to his feet as well and exited the room a few steps behind. 

As if sensing his presence, Seonghwa turned slowly once they were both in the hallway, his expression guarded. Not hostile, but just protective of himself around the man who had hurt him more than once, and rather than speaking gently like he had intended, Hongjoong blurted his next words. “Are we gonna go to the infirmary or what?” 

He wanted to punch himself, and Seonghwa’s lips parted in confusion as he stayed in place, confusion furrowing the normally smooth skin between his brows. “Huh?” 

Hongjoong could feel his cheeks burning, and he shuffled his feet, hoping that Seonghwa couldn’t tell how flustered he was. “I thought maybe it would be easier to do the stitches there…” He trailed off, though all he really wanted in that moment was to run out of the cabin and take a nosedive off the side of the ship. 

Cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink, Seonghwa cleared his throat, and even that sound was more delicate than Hongjoong knew possible. Again he found himself wondering how this was the same man who had become one with the shadows as he claimed lives with deadly efficiency. “Let’s go, then,” Seonghwa agreed awkwardly, and the two of them set off down the hallway in the most uncomfortable silence Hongjoong had ever had the displeasure of being a part of. 

He wondered if he should say something, anxiously stabbing his nails into his palms, though he knew that would probably only make things worse. If Hongjoong knew anything about himself, it was that he had the tendency to say the wrong thing nine times out of ten, and he didn’t like those odds around Seonghwa especially. 

When the door to the infirmary appeared, Seonghwa pushed it open eagerly, busying himself with supplies while Hongjoong trailed over to one of the cots and perched on the edge. His legs dangled slightly above the floor, and he swung them back and forth as he waited, watching Seonghwa as he rummaged through the store containers lining the back wall of the room. 

Eventually, he pushed over a suturing cart to where Hongjoong was sitting, resolutely not meeting his gaze as he prepared the supplies. “You saw me do this before, when I helped San - it’s no different. It might hurt a little, when I pour the alcohol, but that’s all.” Hongjoong nodded in understanding, until he realized that Seonghwa wasn’t actually looking at him, and his heart stuttered as he fumbled for the right words. 

“Okay,” he said stupidly, and he had to restrain himself from asking Seonghwa to sew his mouth closed while he was at it. Hongjoong had never had much practice when it came to talking to people, and the only reason he could speak normally to the others was because he had grown comfortable around them over the years. But now he was reminded of just how dreadful he was at communicating when he wasn’t spewing threats of violence, and he only hoped that Seonghwa couldn’t pick up on how pathetic he was, his palms clammy with sweat. 

When the burn of alcohol consumed his wound, Hongjoong gritted his teeth but remained still, the pain momentarily overcoming his self-deprecating train of thought. Seonghwa moved onto the stitches next, and Hongjoong watched him as he fell into a rhythm, the sutures as precise as he would have expected from the man. 

The true reason why he had wanted to follow Seonghwa to the infirmary was not because of the stitches at all, but rather so that he could thank him without Yunho staring into his soul, and he knew he didn’t have any more time to waste as Seonghwa reached the halfway point of the wound. 

Hongjoong had no idea how to break the silence, for he knew he wanted to express his gratitude but the task felt so intimidating that he couldn’t figure out how to begin. He couldn’t just blurt out a thank you - it wouldn’t feel genuine that way, but he couldn’t go the emotional route either, for Hongjoong didn’t even know how to be vulnerable with his actual crew members. 

Instead, he settled for being honest, a choice he regretted as soon as he opened his mouth. “I don’t like you. At all, actually,” he began, wincing at how terrible it sounded on its own. “I think you’re not as great as they all think you are, though they’d be angry with me if they heard me say it.”

It was the truth - Hongjoong still harbored resentment for this man despite everything, unable to set aside his feelings when he recalled the things he had said, how he had taunted Hongjoong by hanging the safety of his crew in the balance. Now he understood that Seonghwa never would have hurt them, but he still didn’t like this man who had infiltrated his ship against his will. 

“Still, I am not as prideful as you no doubt think I am,” he continued, speaking fast in order to get to the positive part. “I know you saved my life today, and you protected Wooyoung. For that I thank you.” His voice still sounded too gruff, but he could have done a lot worse, and he knew that Seonghwa would appreciate the gesture after all of the hostility. 

“I don’t need your gratitude,” Seonghwa responded curtly, the cold anger in his voice catching Hongjoong completely off guard. Or not, he thought, confusion filling his mind. “I did not save you for you, despite how highly you must think of yourself. I did it for them, and them only.” 

A sharp pain made Hongjoong wince, and his mouth fell open when he realized that Seonghwa had pulled his stitches harder on purpose. He had tried to thank him, but now he felt his calm quickly disappearing, a familiar simmer brimming to life in the pit of his stomach. 

“I don’t like you either. At all, actually,” Seonghwa continued, and Hongjoong felt his face flame as his earlier words were mocked. “I think you’re stubborn, and rude, and you’re lucky to have such wonderful people on your crew. Lord knows what they see in you.” He spoke so matter-of-factly that Hongjoong couldn’t stand it, the words cutting straight through his skin and down to the insecurities that he kept hidden, his fears that his crew would realize how damaged he was and leave him behind. 

Without even understanding what he had done, Seonghwa had plucked those fears straight into the light, examining them with his nimble fingers. Hongjoong could feel the situation rapidly escalating as his rage strengthened to a boil, but he couldn’t stop himself as he barked a harsh laugh, every sharp pull of the stitches flaring his anger. “I’m the stubborn one? If you had only told me what I needed to know all those weeks ago, perhaps things would have been different now.” 

 And Hongjoong did still believe that, but he was letting his anger take control, all thoughts of empathy for this man flying promptly out the window. “I will always put my crew first, and I do not regret what I did to you. You were an enemy, and to me you still are, despite what they may think of you.” Despite all that this man had done for him today, and the emotional stress he had been forced to withstand, Hongjoong still couldn’t rein himself in. 

Seonghwa’s pompous attitude just made him so unnecessarily infuriated, and neither of them would ever choose to back down from the other, even under these different circumstances. No cell bars separated them now, and yet they still might as well have been from two different worlds, unable to see eye to eye no matter what the circumstances were. 

When Seonghwa didn’t instantly respond to Hongjoong’s words, he felt pride swell in his chest. Despite how things had changed, he still held the upper hand and likely always would, because Seonghwa had initially been their enemy. No matter how he claimed to have changed, he had fought against them prior to his capture, and as far as Hongjoong was concerned he could never be fully trusted because of that. 

“I do not care what you think of me,” Seonghwa eventually spat, tying off the last stitch with more force than necessary and cutting the thread, severing their brief proximity as well as he stepped back behind the cart. “If you think your opinion matters to me, you are stupid. The members of your crew, the ones you would do anything for, their opinions are the ones that matter. And they are on my side here, not yours.” 

He had touched a sensitive subject and he fucking knew it, and Hongjoong had to clench his fists to keep his hands from trembling with rage, standing from the cot and leveling Seonghwa with a glare that he knew could petrify the strongest of men. How did he know exactly what to say to jab Hongjoong where he was weakest? Despite how Seonghwa had saved his life mere hours ago, Hongjoong had never felt more unsafe around him, and he knew he had to vacate the room before all of the feelings he had buried were brought into the light. 

“Perhaps they are, but something has to give eventually,” he warned, stalking from the room before he could say anything else. He wasn’t quite sure what he meant by the words, but it had felt like the right thing to say, for clearly a turning point was looming ahead of them. 

Neither of them knew what it would entail just yet, but this fragile balance couldn’t persist forever, the first cracks already beginning to wreak havoc upon them both. 

Chapter Text

Hongjoong bit his tongue when his father shoved him forcefully to the unforgiving floor, the metallic taste of blood seeping through his mouth as his eyes watered. The dungeons were cold, and a chill ran through his skin as he stared at the thick metal bars of the cell in front of them, dread pooling in his stomach. 

A feeble young woman stared back at him, her eyes hollow and her hair matted, just like all of the rest. “No,” Hongjoong whispered, shaking his head and clawing against the rough concrete ground as he tried to get away, but his father pressed the heel of his boot directly into his kidneys, dull pain encompassing the area as he again collapsed. 

“Compose yourself,” his father barked, and Hongjoong hated himself for how he cowered. Every day he told himself that he would not be afraid, but all ideas of defiance vanished when he was no longer alone. “Do not act as if you are above such things. These women must be put to death once I am through with them. You have always known that, and yet this woman tells me otherwise.” 

Hongjoong could feel his heart pounding against his ribs as he dared another glance at the woman, and all he could find in her face was guilt and fear, both so overpowering that he felt suffocated the longer he stared at her, and he had to look away. 

She had been so beautiful just a few nights before, for Hongjoong’s father always ensured that his prostitutes were beautiful, but she had reached the end of her usage here too soon. Hongjoong had killed so many people, and he still remembered each and every one, but he had never done something as terrible as what his father would have him do now. 

“She told me that you promised you would help her to escape,” his father said coldly, and Hongjoong felt his heart stop as a rough hand dragged him back to his feet, shoving his face against the bars with enough force to break his jaw.

Hongjoong heard the wet crunch of bone before he felt his entire face explode in pain, and he couldn’t prevent himself from crying out, although he knew he wasn’t supposed to. The lower half of his face especially was consumed by agony, and he couldn’t move his mouth anymore, jaw hanging open in a permanent grotesque scream. “You dare to defy me,” his father growled right next to his ear, voice abrasive as his sour breath tickled strands of Hongjoong’s hair. 

Pulling Hongjoong back, the man delivered a swift kick to the back of his left knee, sending him sprawling to the ground again, his already cracked jaw shifting upon the impact. He made another sound of pain, and his father drove the steel toe of his boot into Hongjoong’s ribs, dispelling the air from his lungs.

For several seconds Hongjoong couldn’t breathe at all, black spots dancing around his vision. “You understand nothing! After all these years, you are still useless to me. Get to your feet and kill this woman, or I will force you to do it. I wonder how many broken bones you would be able to withstand this time.” 

Fear flooded Hongjoong’s senses, memories of the pain flashing before his eyes, his entire body tensing in terror. He couldn’t endure that again - he couldn’t, because it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. His father always knew how to force him into compliance eventually, and he had killed so many times now that he had become numb. 

Trembling fingers reached for the small knife at his belt, and Hongjoong grasped it with a shaking breath, pulling it free for his father to see. The man stepped away a moment later, and Hongjoong’s heart seized in pain as he stared down at the floor, his own blood spotting the concrete. 

All of this was his own fault. He had made a promise that he couldn’t keep, and now he had to be the one to destroy this woman’s hopes. False hope that he had given to her. 

He threw the knife directly through her right eye, and she died with a shred of hope still clinging to her motionless features, staring at the ceiling of a cell she would never again leave. 

Hongjoong surged awake with a gasp, his entire torso soaked with sweat as he sat up in his bed, the covers bunching around his lap as he desperately gripped the skin of his arms. For a moment he thought he was still there, the darkness around him taking form as the woman he had killed without hesitation, her black blood pooling along the floor of his room, rising higher and higher until it poured down his throat and filled every last part of his body with the truth of what he had done. 

He gagged, entire body trembling as he lurched over the side of the bed, just barely managing to hold back the contents of his stomach. Skin crawling, he fumbled for the pull string on the lamp beside his bed, desperate for the light to banish the memories hidden in the dark. In the darkness, he could feel her eyes watching him, one intact and the other deflated around his knife. 

Chills ravaged his skin, and he knew he needed to get out of his room, his heart racing as he stumbled out of his blankets and pulled the door open with the urgency of someone being chased. He swore he could feel her watching him still even as the door closed, and he raced down the hall recklessly, his bare feet slapping against the wooden planks. 

The breaths tore from his throat in audible gasps, shivers seizing his body as his sweaty pajamas clung to his skin, and he knew that going out to the deck would only get him sick but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just needed to get out, and he nearly banged open the door to the deck before he stopped himself, covering his mouth with his hand in order to muffle sounds of his own laborious breaths. 

San could be out on lookout duty, and he didn’t want to alert the boy to his trembling state, choosing instead to grasp the doorknob in his clammy hand as best as he could and turn it agonizingly slow. No sound was produced by the action, and he pushed the door open once the knob could no longer turn any further, peeking through the gap and squinting up at the crow’s nest. 

No figure could be seen silhouetted against the moon, and Hongjoong sighed in relief, about to push the door open the rest of the way and take deep gulps of the fresh air before he realized that the deck still wasn’t vacant. Someone sat by the helm, though he couldn’t make out who it was right away, his mind briefly forgetting his hysteria as his eyes adjusted to the dull glow of night. 

For a moment he still thought it was San, for he recognized the back of the jacket that the boy always wore, but upon closer inspection he knew that wasn’t right. His hair was too long to belong to San, and he sat far too still in the silence. As far as he knew, none of his crew had ever sat out here in the middle of the night, and he understood exactly who it was then. 

Seonghwa had taken solace in Hongjoong’s favorite place, and he felt bitter resentment churn in his gut, though the feeling wasn’t really directed at the man himself. He didn’t know where else he was supposed to go, and the panic began to rise up his throat again, his breath stuttering as he tried his best to keep silent. The last thing he needed was for Seonghwa of all people to find him like this. 

Even from here, Hongjoong could make out the tension in the man’s shoulders, and he wondered if perhaps they had been drawn out here for the same reason. He knew he couldn’t linger here long, for he didn’t know how long Seonghwa planned on staying and he didn’t want to be found, but he still couldn’t find it in himself to look away. 

He found Seonghwa to be the most fascinating when he thought no one was watching, for he still held himself with such composure, his legs crossed in front of him and his hands resting on his knees. Although Hongjoong couldn’t see his face, he still could picture what his expression may have looked like, his mix of elegant and strong features blurred by the glow of the moon. 

Despite his conflicting feelings towards the man, he felt the desire to actually see Seonghwa like that swell in his chest, his own thoughts confusing him. He couldn’t ever seem to understand a single thing about Seonghwa, but he felt like if they saw each other fully exposed by the glittering light of the stars, perhaps that might change. No one could hide from the eyes of the stars - they had seen Hongjoong at his worst, and they had seen Seonghwa like that too, and maybe they knew how to cross the boundary between two wounded hearts. 

Perhaps Seonghwa himself wasn’t the real reason why Hongjoong felt so out of control in his presence - maybe it was his own mindset. He was naturally defensive, taking advantage of the ability to defend himself now after so many years of not being able to, and he automatically assumed that trust was a dangerous thing. He was stubborn in his anger, yes, but he was also stubborn in his unfailing will to see nothing redeemable in himself. If Seonghwa could truly be redeemed, it would only prove that Hongjoong may be as well, and he just couldn’t reconcile that with his own heart after all of the things that he still blamed himself for. 

As terribly as he wanted to still feel hatred towards Seonghwa, he found it harder to dig up those feelings with every interaction between the two of them, for how much of his animosity was misdirected? From the beginning, Seonghwa had gotten under his skin, his words echoing those of Hongjoong’s father even though the man had just been trying to defend himself, and Hongjoong had lost himself so deeply in his anger that he couldn’t even recall most of the reasons for his hatred.

His mind still caught on the fact that Seonghwa had once been a part of an enemy crew, for though his loyalties were clear now after he had saved Hongjoong’s life, he had once fought against them. Trust had always been difficult for Hongjoong, but the members of his crew had been so vulnerable upon joining his ship that he hadn’t felt any threat from them. 

Everything about Seonghwa screamed threat, if only because Hongjoong saw parts of himself in the man. He hated that Seonghwa seemed to see right through him, speaking his worst fears aloud as if they were written directly on his forehead. Despite how thick he had built his walls, they blew aside like tissue when Seonghwa was around, and he knew it was because they understood each other in ways that the rest of the crew couldn’t. They raged at each other, couldn’t stand to be in the same room, but they were startlingly similar just the same.

Seonghwa most definitely had hidden pain, experiences that had wisened him to the world. People dealt with pain differently, and it seemed the two of them existed on opposite ends of the spectrum in that regard. Where Hongjoong closed himself off from the love he desired, Seonghwa leaned into it, and that alone could account for many of their differences. 

Hongjoong, because of all of his past traumas, was too cold. He’d never even been able to initiate a gentle touch with his crew beyond a hand on the shoulder, even when he knew they needed the comfort.

However, Seonghwa was entirely the opposite. He had allowed himself to care for the pirates who had taken him directly from his ship and thrown him into a prison for months, able to see the good in people he should have hated. When Wooyoung had needed comfort, Seonghwa had not hesitated to provide it.

They were dangerously similar, but they differed in the qualities that mattered most. Hongjoong had already come to this realization, but he allowed the thought to linger in his mind as he watched Seonghwa stare up at the stars, completely unaware that he wasn’t alone. 

After a few more minutes, Hongjoong turned back into the cabin, gently shutting the door so as to not make a sound. He hadn’t even realized how long he had stood there thinking about Seonghwa, but his legs had begun to fall asleep, and he walked awkwardly back to his room. Along the way, he realized that his head was entirely clear now, the nightmare just a distant memory.

~

About a week later, Hongjoong lingered in the cafeteria after breakfast with Yeosang and Yunho, the three of them yet again going over their plans. They had chosen to evade the port after their battle for fear of coming across any other rivals, but that begged the question of where they would sail next and where they would stop to resupply the ship, and they discussed each potential option with one another as they sat at the table. 

At one point, Mingi ventured in, his eyes half-lidded as he slogged his way over to Yunho and slid into the chair beside the first mate, casually wrapping his long arms around his partner’s waist. “You look horrible,” Hongjoong deadpanned, and Mingi’s returning smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he buried his face into Yunho’s back. 

“Seonghwa’s been having nightmares,” he mumbled, voice muffled by Yunho’s shirt, although Hongjoong understood him perfectly, sitting up a little straighter. So that was why he had seen Seonghwa out on the deck that night - even the timing of their nightmares correlated, a thought that kind of made him want to vomit. “He screams until we wake him up, and I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a week.” 

Yunho cooed something at Mingi, squishing his cheeks fondly, and Hongjoong had to look away for fear of actually vomiting all over the table. Still, he found it more difficult to focus on the maps after that, even once Mingi left and the three of them were again alone. He had a feeling that Seonghwa’s nightmares had been triggered by the events of the battle, and he wondered if they were similar in severity to his own. 

Hongjoong would wish the feeling of waking up drenched in sweat and memories upon no one, and he bit his lower lip as he tried to push away the heaviness in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to feel remorse like this for the man he still had conflicting feelings for, but he found the sensation difficult to shake, especially when the very man he had been thinking about entered the cafeteria a few minutes later. 

Pausing in the doorway, a flush of pink rose to Seonghwa’s cheeks as he took in the sight of all three of them, his hesitance clear. He cleared his throat, avoiding their eyes as he stared at the maps littering the table. “I just came to check on Yunho’s wrist, but I can come back later,” he explained quickly, and Hongjoong stood when he noticed Seonghwa begin to turn to leave. 

“We were just about done here anyway. Yunho, let’s go,” Hongjoong responded, grabbing his book of notes from their meeting and leaving Yeosang to clean up the maps and other parchment. “Perhaps you can look at my stitches too, I think they’re just about healed.” He gestured to his forearm as he approached the door with Yunho at his heels. 

“Um, sure, that’s fine. It wasn’t a wide wound, so the new layer of skin was probably able to form easily,” Seonghwa answered, and Hongjoong again took note of how composed he managed to sound, his proficiency evident in his delivery. 

Hongjoong nodded, choosing not to say anything else as he stepped out into the hallway and led the way to the infirmary, not wanting to say the wrong thing already. He could hear Seonghwa and Yunho muttering to each other as they walked, and he reached the infirmary before them, sitting down on the same cot as last time. 

His feet swung naturally as they dangled above the ground, and Yunho came over to join him, ruffling his hair with an unnaturally large hand. “Cut it out!” Hongjoong protested, and Yunho laughed heartily, sitting beside Hongjoong and resting his hands against the cot. Seonghwa was rummaging through supplies on the other side of the room, the sounds loud enough to obscure Yunho’s voice as he leaned closer to Hongjoong. 

“Only if you admit that you’ve been staring at Seonghwa since he walked in here,” he whispered, tone mischievous as Hongjoong tensed, quickly glancing away from Seonghwa and down at the floor as his cheeks flamed. 

Fumbling for a response, he spoke low enough for only Yunho to hear, the tips of his ears bright red. “It’s not - I just - I don’t trust him,” he hissed, and Yunho ruffled his hair again, ruining the order that Hongjoong had only just managed to restore among the strands.  

“Sure thing,” his first mate replied cheekily, and Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to strangle him, but suddenly Seonghwa was approaching the two of them and he did his best to school his expression into one of neutral disinterest. He watched with interest as Seonghwa examined Yunho’s bruised wrist, his fingers careful as he manipulated the joint, eyes narrowed in concentration. 

It didn’t take long, and then Yunho was hopping down from the cot, accepting a small bag of ice from Seonghwa with a bright grin. “I’ll see you both later,” he called as he slipped from the room, but Hongjoong resolutely ignored his exit, still annoyed with the boy for teasing him. For days Yunho had been making similarly ridiculous comments, but he had been careless to speak about it with Seonghwa right there, and Hongjoong itched to set him straight. 

Saving the thought for later, he instead watched Seonghwa as he rolled his cart closer to the cot. He definitely looked exhausted, deep purple shadows ringing his eyes, skin even more sallow and pale than normal. Lack of sleep was clearly taking its toll, and his hands wavered slightly as he let go of the cart, as if his entire body had been affected. “The stitches have been healing okay?” 

“Yes, they’re perfectly fine. I was hoping you could take them off, actually,” Hongjoong answered, for then Seonghwa would at least have one less thing to worry about. 

This didn’t seem to be the answer Seonghwa wanted, however, testiness hidden beneath his pleasant tone of voice. “Well, I won’t know if I can take them off until I look at the wound,” he informed, shifting his gaze from the cart to Hongjoong’s forearm, resolutely avoiding his eyes the entire time. Hongjoong didn’t understand what he had already done wrong, but he still rolled up his sleeve obediently, not looking for an argument. 

Hongjoong had done his best to take care of the stitches, although he wasn’t exactly knowledgeable when it came to that. Every morning and night he had washed the area in the bathroom, and he had tried his best not to use the arm for anything strenuous unless it was necessary. He felt rather proud of himself for how well the wound appeared to have healed, and he felt strangely eager for Seonghwa’s assessment. 

A slight smile pulled at Seonghwa’s lips as he brushed the tips of his fingers over the affected area. “You’re in luck - they’ve healed really well, so I can remove them now,” he decided, and Hongjoong felt pride swell in his chest, pleased with himself for doing something correctly. This interaction seemed to be going okay, and he was grateful for it - it wasn’t much, but it was definitely a start. 

“I’m going to clean it with the alcohol first,” Seonghwa continued, and Hongjoong nodded his consent, watching as Seonghwa prepared his supplies. The alcohol didn’t hurt this time, and Seonghwa was gentle as he rubbed it over the wounded area, making sure everything was clean before he reached for a small pair of sharp scissors. 

He stepped closer as he began to snip the stitches one at a time, his movements well practiced, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but note how nice he smelled. They had never been this close to one another since Seonghwa’s freedom, and before that he had always been covered in filth, but now he just smelled faintly of the sea. It suited him, and Hongjoong found that he appeared most in his element as he focused on his duties as a doctor, for it likely provided him with some much needed distraction sometimes. 

Seonghwa had made it halfway through the stitches before he abruptly stepped away from the cot, his pair of scissors clattering to the floor and breaking the silence that had lingered between the two of them. Recoiling at the sudden noise, Hongjoong’s heart stuttered in his chest, and a moment passed before he could find his voice again. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked, for Seonghwa had turned away from him, only his back visible as he hid himself from view. The man breathed a curse, his shoulders tensed as his arms moved somewhere in front of him, although Hongjoong had no idea what he was doing. 

A response came straight away, although Seonghwa’s voice had lost all of its former composure. “It’s nothing,” he gritted out, and Hongjoong again faltered, the gruff tone taking him by surprise. He couldn’t figure out what he had done to make Seonghwa react so strongly, and he wracked his mind for an answer as he watched Seonghwa bend over and pick up the scissors he had dropped, still keeping his back firmly facing Hongjoong’s direction. 

The silence felt so wrong that Hongjoong searched for something to say, wanting to erase the sudden strain that had emerged between the two of them. He had never been great at that, but he couldn’t just watch Seonghwa clearly struggle with something beyond his understanding, so he did his best to lighten the mood. “Well, are you going to finish removing these or what?” He tried his best to keep his tone light, and he was pretty sure he had succeeded until Seonghwa whirled on him, his face red with anger even as moisture lined his lashes. 

Hongjoong’s lips parted at the sight of his complete lack of his usual composure, already wishing he could swallow his words, for clearly they hadn’t had the intended effect. “Can you be patient for a damn second, because I can’t finish removing your stitches until this subsides,” Seonghwa spat harshly, his voice trembling as he held one of his hands out in front of his chest. He seemed to be in some kind of pain, his eyes watering as he tried to conceal a wince, but Hongjoong had withheld his own pain enough times to know what it looked like.

Glancing down at the outstretched hand, Hongjoong promptly closed his mouth, swallowing thickly as he understood exactly what had happened with sudden, sickening dread. He didn’t say a word as he stared at Seonghwa’s once delicate fingers now gnarled in some kind of spasm, the tendons along the back of his hand popping through the skin. His entire arm trembled, and it was no wonder he had dropped the scissors - he couldn’t even seem to move his fingers as they twitched repeatedly. 

And in the center of it all was the thick scar mirrored along Seonghwa’s palm and the back of his hand, rippling as the muscles and tendons failed to move correctly, locked in place even as they tried to function. Hongjoong couldn’t bring himself to look away, horror dawning on him as he stared, his heart sinking as his eyes grew wide. All of this was his fault, and the guilt threatened to swallow him whole without any resistance, for he would deserve it. 

Seonghwa had used that hand to kill several men, to save Hongjoong’s life, and to stitch up his arm, all while fighting against what appeared to be extensive nerve and tendon damage. How could he have been so stupid to never consider the lasting effects of what he had done? Had he not just observed that Seonghwa seemed most at ease while treating others? Now he couldn’t even get through his task without his hand spasming in physical pain, and Hongjoong was completely to blame. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he stared at this product of his own cruelty, the guilt consuming him so completely that he felt his eyes prickle, lips quivering as he tried to open his mouth despite there being no words he could possibly say to rectify what he had done. No wonder Seonghwa had always flinched away from him when they encountered each other around the ship - Hongjoong had hurt him so badly, and just seeing him must have served as a reminder of that.

And still Seonghwa had saved his worthless life that day, though he had done absolutely nothing to deserve it. 

Eventually Seonghwa snatched his hand back to his chest, and Hongjoong stared up at him, drowning in his own emotions as he took in the pain, the anger, the embarrassment on the man’s face. Hongjoong was responsible for all of those feelings, and he could do nothing but stare, overcome by his own guilt and barely keeping himself from tearing at his arms even though he knew that the physical pain would never compare to the agony of his own thoughts. 

“Spare me the mockery,” Seonghwa spat, his tone startling Hongjoong, though he knew he deserved to be yelled at. He deserved a lot worse than just that, and he wished that Seonghwa would just hurt him. He wouldn’t even fight back, and despite how badly he wanted it he knew that Seonghwa never would, simply because he was good in every way that Hongjoong would never be. 

Simply because he was nothing like Hongjoong’s father. 

“I’m sure you’re proud of yourself - you did this, after all.” The words cut straight to Hongjoong’s heart, exposing his nerves, the guilt eating away at every part of him. “It’s causing me enough issues, I don’t need your useless criticisms on top of it. I can still do my job, don’t think otherwise.” Seonghwa sounded so wounded beneath his rage that Hongjoong had no idea how to respond, and he found that he couldn’t even open his mouth, his teeth clenched so tight that he could hardly breathe at all. 

Grabbing the pair of scissors in his other hand this time, Seonghwa went back to Hongjoong’s stitches, and even with his nondominant hand he managed to do a flawless job. Despite everything, he had picked up the scissors and continued, and Hongjoong was so overcome with guilt that he could do nothing but sit there, his mind filled with static and his heart aching strong enough to make him feel nauseous. 

His scarred hand stopped shaking once Seonghwa neared the end of the wound, but Hongjoong could still see the gnarled fingers in his mind, an image that he knew he would never forget. Upon the removal of the final stitch, all that remained was a pink line, a stark contrast to the raised scar that cut through Seonghwa’s palm. 

As soon as he was finished, Seonghwa turned away from Hongjoong, his shoulders tight as he disposed of the suturing supplies and returned the cart to where it belonged. Although Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa would have preferred for him to leave, he couldn’t bring himself to move, his eyes fixated on the man as his mind spiraled deeper. He couldn’t just leave like this - he had to say something, although the thought of facing Seonghwa at all made him want to cower. 

Cruel as he had been, he was still weak in the face of Seonghwa’s grace, a more powerful weapon than any sword he had ever fought against. 

“You’re free to go,” Seonghwa said gruffly after a few minutes of silence, and he finally looked up at Hongjoong, their eyes meeting. His waterline was still tinged with red, and Hongjoong coughed into his fist, trying not to focus on that for long enough to find the right words. 

“I know that,” he admitted, hating how disjointed his voice sounded, like he was listening to himself speak underwater. “I just wanted to thank you for treating my wound. Even after how I acted towards you last time.” He wanted to say so much more, but he couldn’t for fear of making the situation worse. What could he possibly say now, months after the fact? The kindest thing he could do right now was leave, a thought that Seonghwa confirmed a moment later. 

“You’re welcome. Now please, get out before I regret helping you.” The order was cold, and Hongjoong slid from the cot onto his feet, his legs barely stable underneath him as he nodded shakily before vacating the room. 

He fled towards the safety of his room, ignoring Jongho and San as he hurried past them, hardly even registering their voices calling after him. Bursting through the door to his quarters, he collapsed face first down onto his bed, not even caring as he struggled  to breathe against the blankets. 

All he could see as he squeezed his eyes shut was that contorted image of Seonghwa’s hand, the thick scar burning a hole through his brain. Of course he had never forgotten the wounds he had inflicted on the man, but Seonghwa had been masking his pain so well this entire time that he never would have known he was still hurting. 

The look on his face had been so achingly raw that Hongjoong’s stomach churned just thinking about it, his body wracked by the tremors of his own guilt as he lied there for hours, unable to clear the image that haunted his mind. He skipped lunch and dinner, ignoring the hollow rumble of his stomach because he deserved so much worse than that. 

Hongjoong had hurt hundreds of people in his life, probably more than that, but at least he knew that his father had given him no choice when forced to hurt innocents. He still carried that guilt with him every day, but it wasn’t as fresh as this, as condemning. 

No one had forced him to hurt Seonghwa - in fact, the others had actively tried to stop him, but he had been too caught up in his own created narrative to listen. He couldn’t dislodge so much as a shred of the blame, because he had wanted to hurt Seonghwa back then, had relished in his sounds of pain and the blood that had drenched the floor. 

But now he understood that no matter where Seonghwa’s allegiances had lied at the start, he was on their side now. He had saved the life of the same man who was responsible for the pain he had felt today, and that alone made him a person worthy of trust. Hongjoong had no right to feel hatred towards Seonghwa anymore, and all that was left behind was the guilt with nothing to mask it. 

Eventually the light in his room dimmed as the sun set below the horizon, and Hongjoong stood from his bed on weak legs, shuffling towards the window on the far wall. The stars were beginning to emerge now, and he stared up at them mutely, the pain in his chest traveling through his body in dull waves. 

Under the night sky, he felt completely stripped of his defenses, and the knowledge of what he would need to do settled over his bones like a blanket of dread. Surely Seonghwa hated everything about Hongjoong, and he had every reason to, but Hongjoong needed to apologize regardless. 

Seonghwa probably thought he was smug, proud of himself as he witnessed the lasting effects of the wound he had inflicted, when in reality that couldn’t be more off base. Disgusted with himself, Hongjoong didn’t even know what he would say, how he would initiate a conversation that wouldn’t spiral out of his control. 

Still, he had to try, the stars blinking down at him as they witnessed how far he had fallen. And yet he could still feel their understanding, his eyes briefly tracing the outline of the constellations he knew by heart. How could he respect their noble legends while remaining the monster in his own story? For once, he couldn’t allow himself to be lost in his own hatred - he had to make this right, or he feared the stars would never shine on him again. 

With a weary sigh, Hongjoong stepped away from the window, for he had already wasted enough time. He knew in his gut exactly where Seonghwa would be, and he quietly opened the door to his room, his steps light as he crept down the hall. Part of him hoped that he was wrong, and that Seonghwa had been able to lose himself in the gentle grasp of sleep after the strain of the day, but as he pushed open the door to the deck his gaze instantly landed on that same stoic silhouette at the helm. 

A picture of serenity, no one ever would have guessed the truth about Seonghwa’s experience on his ship from the way he sat, his posture straight and his hair blowing in the ruthless winds that gusted past the ship. Hongjoong suspected that it would rain soon, for the moon was partially obscured by clouds, and he could hear the rough slap of the waves against the hull. 

Despite how the ship had changed since Seonghwa’s capture, the waves were always the same, constant as the stars and moon. Soaking in the natural patterns of the world made Hongjoong fell less out of control, like his problems weren’t so disastrous in comparison, and he stood by the door for a moment just to inhale a deep breath of cold, salty air. 

His boots sounded against the wooden planks as he began to cross the deck, and it wasn’t long before Seonghwa turned at the sound. Hongjoong could see how his hair blew back when he rotated his head, but he couldn’t make out the look on his face from this far away, though he was sure that it was far from pleasant. 

Seonghwa had perched himself on the upper deck by the railing, and Hongjoong hoisted himself up onto the platform as well, though now the man was facing away from him and staring back out towards the sea. Not that Hongjoong had expected any sort of welcome, but he still felt awkward standing there, slowly sinking down to the ground a few feet behind Seonghwa. He could tell that his presence wasn’t wanted, and his heart ached at the memory of their earlier interaction. 

He was itching to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth for several minutes, unsure of how to breach the subject of apologizing when he didn’t want to bring up Seonghwa’s pain out of nowhere. The man had clearly chosen to sit out here in order to clear his mind, and it felt wrong for Hongjoong to counteract that. 

Sweat pooled in his palms despite the chill of the wind as his mind spun, trying to figure out how to break the silence, though he knew he was only making things more awkward by taking so long to speak. He had been the one to come out here and join Seonghwa, so he needed to be the one to break the silence, and all he could think to do was comment on the night itself. 

“It’s a beautiful night,” he blurted, trying to sound thoughtful but ultimately failing, his voice too low and not nearly as friendly as he had intended. He had wanted to find some kind of common ground, even if it was something as simple as the midnight sky, but he realized not long after that Seonghwa had no intention of responding. No indication was given that he had even heard, and Hongjoong squirmed, grateful that at least he couldn’t be seen as he chewed his lip uncomfortably. 

Determined to try again, Hongjoong figured he might as well eliminate the obstacle that had been in their way since the beginning. Even if he made Seonghwa angry by prying into something more personal, he would at least receive a response this way. “Seonghwa, is it?” He asked, trying to keep the question as casual as possible, for he knew that Seonghwa likely wouldn’t appreciate hearing his name on Hongjoong’s lips. 

Still, by this point they both clearly knew each other’s names, and to refer to each other as anything else would only further the rift between them. Not that Hongjoong felt overly determined to close that gap - he just wanted to apologize, and he had a feeling it would sound more sincere if he actually referred to the man by his name. 

“Yes, captain,” Seonghwa gritted out, his tone already laden with irritation, and Hongjoong’s face fell as he stared at the silhouetted figure facing away from him. From this close, he could now see that Seonghwa had brought a plate of food out with him, though it was mostly empty. 

He knew that Seonghwa knew his name, and he wasn’t quite sure why he wanted him to use it, but he felt disappointed at the use of his title. Before, he had known that Seonghwa had called him captain out of spite, but he wanted to eliminate that extra layer of hostility now, if he could. If they couldn’t even refer to each other by name, they would never be able to humanize one another. 

Hongjoong attempted to laugh away the tension between them, failing miserably and clamping his lips shut a split second later. “There’s no need for such formalities,” he pushed, hoping that he sounded smart in order to obscure his embarrassment. “Hongjoong will suffice, I know you are aware of my name.” 

Seonghwa didn’t respond right away, seeming to digest the words for a moment. “Then yes, Hongjoong. Seonghwa is my name, though you clearly already knew that.” His tone was far from genuine, a looming bite to the admission, and Hongjoong winced at how strained the air around them felt. Even an outsider would be able to tell that they were far from civil, and he bit the inside of his cheek, desperate to lighten the mood. 

You have no idea how long I’ve known that. He nearly spoke the thought aloud before coming to his senses, for he would gain absolutely nothing by saying it. If Seonghwa didn’t already want to kill him, he surely would when he found that out. “It’s nice, I suppose,” he complimented instead, hoping that Seonghwa would be able to hear his sincerity. He wasn’t lying for the sake of achieving his goal of apologizing - he actually meant it, for the name suited what little Hongjoong had seen of the man. “Hard to believe that was the name you fought tooth and nail to keep from us all those months ago.” 

He chuckled awkwardly, hoping that Seonghwa wouldn’t take his words the wrong way. Hongjoong had never been so nervous to talk to someone so unintimidating in his life, but that was only because Seonghwa chose to be gentle. A chill crept along his skin as he recalled what the man had looked like during the battle, like a wielder of death itself. 

“Oh, I’m glad you think so. I still find it hard to believe you’re able to captain this crew at that size,” Seonghwa bit back, his voice dripping with false sweetness, so cutting that Hongjoong had to inhale slowly in order to maintain his poorly assembled composure. He had never been good at keeping calm in the face of such insults, for after enduring mental abuse for years he found it difficult not to lash out now that he actually could.

“Can’t come up with any new material, can you?” he asked in return, although he could hear the strain in his own voice, and he knew that Seonghwa would be able to hear it too. Dammit. He could feel himself getting mad despite his best attempts not to, and he forced his eyes up towards the stars, keeping his breathing steady. 

“Oh believe me, there are many things I could say to you, but your puny little brain likely would not be able to handle them.” The accusation made Hongjoong want to laugh and cry at the same time, bitterness swelling within him as he clenched his fists. Seonghwa had no idea how wrong he was, and he hated how angry he felt anyway. If the man knew the extent of the cognitive torture Hongjoong had undergone since he learned to speak and understand the language, he wouldn’t have dared to make such a claim. 

He had been a baby back then, and all he had ever known was hatred. Bitter tears burned at his eyes, but he blinked them away, swallowing the oppressive lump lodged in his throat. He would not cry - he wouldn’t give Seonghwa the satisfaction. “You may think me dumb, but at least I wasn’t pitiful enough to be stolen off my own ship,” he retaliated, trying to dig deep, but he realized that he didn’t actually know enough about the man in front of him to do so. 

Unless if he mentioned his traumatic response to the battle, but despite his anger Hongjoong still couldn’t stoop that low, for he knew how it felt to have his vulnerabilities torn apart and he refused to do that to another human being. 

“You claim I can’t come up with new material, but all you ever seem to mention is my supposed role as your enemy. You don’t even know enough about me to truly strike a nerve.” Seonghwa’s delivery was flat as he pointed out the very realization Hongjoong had just come to a moment ago, and Hongjoong hated everything about it as his lack of control was exposed. 

Desperate to fire back, he fumbled for something to say, settling on the only other thing he could use in his favor. “Oh, is that so? What is it that has you coming out here every night, then?” His question hung in the air for a moment, and Hongjoong could see how Seonghwa stiffened, the sight stoking the flame of his smugness. 

That is, until the man whirled around, eyes blazing despite the cold. “You - how dare you watch me! That was private,” he seethed, and Hongjoong only felt more in control as he raised his hands in a mock show of surrender, laughing lightly and watching as Seonghwa’s face contorted in rage. 

“You’re easier to crack than I thought. I didn’t watch anything, I simply inferred based off of your presence out here tonight and the way your under eyes grow darker each each day,” he replied, for though that wasn’t technically true, Seonghwa didn’t know any different. “You claim I’m not smart, and yet I outsmarted you fairly quickly, didn’t I?” He felt his own face twist in a ruthless smile, for he couldn’t deny how good it felt to hold the upper hand. 

His smile fell immediately as Seonghwa shot to his feet, anger evident in the way he moved, his shoulders tense and his arms rigid as he grabbed his plate and held it to his chest. He made an attempt to stalk past without another word, and Hongjoong panicked inwardly, grappling for a way to make him stay. Something about this man made him so unbelievably stupid, and yet he couldn’t stand to watch him leave. 

Once Seonghwa came close enough, Hongjoong grabbed the hem of San’s coat, the resistance making him stop in his tracks. “Don’t leave - I’m sorry. Just, you can sit back down. I won’t say anything else, I promise,” Hongjoong murmured, his voice softer than he had been expecting. Normally such honesty was difficult for him to express, but the words naturally trailed from his lips for perhaps the first time that night, for he truly did want Seonghwa to stay. 

Despite that, he knew that Seonghwa would never stick around simply because Hongjoong had asked, and he felt his heart already beginning to sink. Why would he expect any different when he had been so cruel for so long? Just a few candid words would never be enough to rewrite the history he had willingly forged from the beginning. 

Seonghwa settled onto the deck a short distance away from Hongjoong now, the two of them almost sitting side by side, and he swore his heart stopped. He couldn’t quite believe that the man hadn’t left, and he kept sneaking glances to the side, darting his eyes away quickly so Seonghwa wouldn’t see. 

He had actually stayed - why would he stay? Hongjoong couldn’t make any sense of it, and again the silence spanned the distance between them, turning a few inches into an ocean’s worth of words unspoken. No idea what to expect now that Seonghwa had chosen to stay, he didn’t know what to think, his mind spinning all over again as any semblance of control slipped away. 

Hongjoong hated the way he was always the one left guessing. Even when he did have the upper hand, he typically only held it for a second before he was again knocked down. Never had he been so irritated with his own incompetence - even as a child, when he’d been near constantly beaten and degraded, he had withheld his own emotions no matter how harrowing the situation.

Seonghwa rendered him to nothing more than a ship without its walls, free to be invaded and exposed, and it was unbearable. So he didn’t understand why he didn’t hate it like he used to, like he should - like there was a part of him that wanted to be seen. Something about Seonghwa made him feel slightly less afraid of himself, perhaps because he knew that their pasts had to be similar based on their behavior alone. 

Despite his former claims to be quiet, Hongjoong couldn’t help himself as he opened his mouth again, purely out of curiosity. “Before the battle, I had no idea you knew how to fight. I thought you to be weak - you could’ve easily held your own against me all those times I threatened you. Why didn’t you?” The thought had been nagging him since he had watched Seonghwa take down the rival pirates without a hitch - he didn’t ever have to sit by and take Hongjoong’s beatings, so why had he? 

Seonghwa sighed, and the weariness within it was audible above the wind. “There was no need. I didn’t have any desire to continue to live, then. A part of me hoped you would just go through with your threats,” he answered, nothing but honesty present in the admission. Hongjoong had been expecting an explosion at the question, but this was so much worse, and he faltered as he considered the implications of what had just been said. 

All that time, he had been threatening to kill a man who wanted to die. He felt like Seonghwa had delivered a blow directly to his gut, and he stared out at the sea in silence, already feeling the foundations of his resentment beginning to crumble. He had a terrible feeling about where this was going, and he wanted to just vacate the deck and avoid any more earth shattering revelations, but he knew he couldn’t. 

If he owed Seonghwa anything, it was this. He would sit here and face what he had done, because that was exactly what his father never would have done. The opportunity to take back his cruelty had long since passed, but he could still try to understand, and he could hear in Seonghwa’s voice that he was tired of fighting. They had reached a breaking point, and all Hongjoong could do was brace himself for impact, for he knew that he would be the one left fragmented by guilt. 

Already he could feel it rising, coiling around his spine and compressing his ribcage, and he tried to ignore the feeling as he pushed for answers he was sure he didn’t want to hear. “You still must’ve learned it somewhere - no crew teaches their doctor to fight like that.” Hongjoong had never seen anyone fight like that, and he had been wondering about it for days, unable to read this man who seemed to contradict himself in every possible manner. 

He had killed thickly muscled men with just a tiny knife, and yet he had never fought back against Hongjoong once. He provided Wooyoung with tender comfort so easily, but he held himself so stiffly the rest of the time. He had opened up to Hongjoong’s crew through the bars of a cell, but everything about him pointed to a past laden with suffering. 

None of it made any sense, and though Hongjoong dreaded the truth, he still listened with rapt attention when Seonghwa spoke again. “I didn’t want to learn - it wasn’t something I submitted to by choice,” he admitted, and Hongjoong stiffened, his throat closing up. I never wanted to learn either.  

He didn’t want to believe what he was hearing, because he knew the pain of having the right to choose completely stripped away. He knew how it festered within, how it sickened one’s soul, and he felt nausea swirling in his stomach. “I simply had no other option: it was either learn to defend myself or die. I still have no desire to cause harm, as I’ve always been one much too partial to healing.”

Through the static in his mind, Hongjoong was able to pick apart the words just enough to find one small difference. While he had learned violence in order to carry out his father’s wishes and avoid the torture he knew he would be dealt otherwise, Seonghwa had learned so that he could defend himself. Hongjoong had never been able to defend himself at all - he had given up on trying once he understood that there was no point. 

Their circumstances couldn’t have been completely similar, and he hated himself for what he chose to do next, knowing he would shatter the fragile peace that currently hung between them but needing to know the truth. His guilt was already churning rougher than the waves that rocked the ship, and he forced himself to splutter at Seonghwa’s claim, heart aching. “That’s entirely ridiculous - no one joins a pirate crew if they have ‘no desire to cause harm,’” he protested, though he hated himself for every word. 

How could he ever actually think such a thing? He had practically raised Wooyoung after his parents had died, and he had always been the first person to assure him that his aversion to violence was okay. But he had to say it, because he needed to goad Seonghwa into telling him the truth. He could feel it pressing upon their exchange, and when Seonghwa got to his feet again, he knew that his jab had landed. 

Disgust marred his features as he looked down at Hongjoong, the fury in his eyes piercing him like a dagger of ice. “Do you hear yourself? Are you not reminded of Wooyoung - your own crew member, who has a complete aversion to violence? It is not unheard of.” His words were cold as his glare, and Hongjoong felt so ashamed that he had to look away, eyes burning. As if he hadn’t hurt this man enough, he had completely undermined his reasons for choosing to heal instead of hurt. 

That choice alone made him braver than Hongjoong would ever be, and he wished to say that aloud, but Seonghwa wasn’t finished. The waves seemed to roar alongside his wrath, the wind whipping at them harder than ever. Just as Hongjoong had feared, the stars had been obscured by storm clouds, as if they were just as ashamed of him. 

“As for me, take a moment to consider something if your thick head can handle that. Perhaps none of this was ever my choice.” Seonghwa spat the words, and the winds came to a startling halt, the waves easing their onslaught against the hull. His voice was both bitter and saturated with a hurt so deep that Hongjoong swore he could feel it reach straight through his own chest and seize his heart, squeezing out every positive feeling he had ever felt towards himself and leaving only the negative behind. 

He vaguely heard Seonghwa begin to walk away, though his voice returned a few moments later, twisting the knife he had lodged directly through Hongjoong’s heart. “I hope it weighs on you, that the blade you used to make me suffer was the very same one I used to save your life.” And with that he was gone, leaving nothing but wreckage behind.

Guilt like Hongjoong had never felt before consumed every part of him, and he could already feel his eyes beginning to overflow as Seonghwa left the deck entirely, not even seeing how much Hongjoong cared. Oh, how he cared, his heart breaking with the force of it, and for the first time in his life he wished that Seonghwa had stayed to see him cry. All of this time, he had validated his own actions by assuring himself that Seonghwa was an enemy, only to learn that none of it had ever been true. 

He had never been protecting his crew by hurting him, and perhaps he would have realized that if he had ever learned to trust the people he claimed to care about so much. Suddenly, all of the things his friends had said to him during all of their fights came rushing back, and he knew that all of it was true. 

“The reason why we’re all so shaken is because of how… wrong it feels, to hurt someone so defenseless.” Yeosang, on the deck after Hongjoong had yelled at Yunho and Jongho for not being more violent during their interrogations. 

“Your biggest problem is that all you care about is your crew - you would sacrifice basic human decency to keep us safe, even when we’re yelling in your face that it’s not what we want!” Yunho, after Hongjoong had thrown the knife through Seonghwa’s hand. 

“Mark my words, you’re going to realize you’re wrong.” Wooyoung, after Seonghwa had saved San’s life and Hongjoong had still thrown him back down in the cell.

They had all been right since the beginning, and they had given him so many opportunities to listen, to correct his behavior before he lost the chance completely. No one else possessed so much as a shred of blame except himself, and the memories came rushing back even faster, hot tears splattering down to the deck as a broken sob escaped him and was carried off by the wind. 

“He is gentle, and kind, and every bit the antithesis of what you have become.”

“Why can’t you just admit that you regret the things you did to him, too?” 

“You’re losing yourself in your own desire for revenge on someone who has never hurt you.”

“Maybe you’ll begin to see things differently once you allow yourself to see what we all see in him.”

Hongjoong shook his head, ignoring the pain in his neck as he slapped his hands against his face, pulling at the skin of his cheeks and wishing he could tear his skin off. He didn't want to be himself anymore, the guilt eating him alive as he sat there, his tears flowing into his mouth and down his neck, stinging the scratches that his nails left on his face. 

“I know that the man you’ve trapped down there in the cell has done nothing to deserve this treatment, and I can’t tell you why, because it’s not my story to tell.” Wooyoung had told him that ages ago, hand handed him everything but the truth, and Hongjoong understood now how desperate the boy had been to make him understand. He had known that Seonghwa had never deserved to be treated so horribly - they had all probably known - but none of them had been able to tell him. 

A strangled scream burst from Hongjoong’s throat, breaking into a sob as he pulled at his hair, strands coming free even though he was numb to the pain. No physical pain could compare to what he felt inside, and one final sentence spoken in cold anger echoed in his mind, more true than he had ever known.

“All you know how to do is kill.” 

Hongjoong had never hated himself more in his life, and before he even understood what he was doing he had crawled forward on his hands and knees, stopping once he was directly in front of the rails. Sliding his legs through the gaps, he let them dangle over the open sea. He knew how dangerous it was, had scolded his crew for doing the same several times, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. 

He would never intentionally jump over the side of his ship, but would it really be so bad if he fell in? 

The thought stunned him for a moment, and he let the rough churn of the waves mesmerize him, sobs tearing from his throat as his entire body trembled. Seonghwa had never been an enemy, and now he could do nothing but shatter as he realized everything he had done to an innocent. He had been a prisoner long before the cell on this ship, and all of the pieces slid into place the longer he considered it, his dread heavier than the ship’s anchor. 

All of the times he had found it strange how well Seonghwa had adjusted to the cell, how unbothered he seemed. The sallow character to his skin from the beginning, despite having been supposedly free just days before. How he had withstood Hongjoong’s torture, as if it were familiar. Hongjoong couldn’t believe his own ignorance, and he had never felt more lost in his life, staring down at the waves and wishing he had never been born at all. 

So many lives could have been saved that way, so much hurt avoided, and he was reminded of the first man he had ever killed, the pirate who had first shown him kindness. Looking at the waves, he could still hear the man’s final wish, and his voice was garbled as he opened his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, feeling like he was five years old again. “I’m so sorry.” 

He repeated the words again and again, apologizing to every innocent person he had hurt, but mostly to the one who resided in the cabin of his ship. With the knife Hongjoong had used to impale his hand, Seonghwa had dealt the blow that had saved Hongjoong’s life, even when it meant sending himself into a traumatic spiral. 

Seonghwa had delivered that final sentence without even understanding the extent of what it implied. He had no idea that Hongjoong had been killing with that knife for almost twenty years, that it represented his loss of any innocence he had tried to keep, his slow descent into cruelty when he couldn’t withstand the pain anymore. That knife was cursed in every sense of the word, woven with lost souls and stained with the blood of the untainted, and Hongjoong had never believed it able to be redeemed. 

But Seonghwa had done it. Without even knowing, he had countered all of that, using the souls of the dead that clung to the blade to save Hongjoong’s life. How could he die now, when in a sense, he had been saved by all of the people he had killed? If it weren’t for his history with the knife, he never would have thrown it, and he would have died on the deck that day. 

Didn’t he owe it to them to at least try to redeem himself? If he merely allowed himself to lose to his despair, his guilt, then he would die a coward, just as his father had always promised. He recalled all of the times his crew had told him of Seonghwa’s willingness to forgive, and although he couldn’t possibly allow himself to hope, he still knew he had to try. After everything they had said to each other this night, he had forgotten to even apologize, the reason he had come out here at all. 

He had made too many mistakes to count, and they suffocated him still as his breaths hitched, tears falling down into the sea. Could Seonghwa really ever forgive someone as monstrous as him? He didn’t think so, but something twinkled from high in the sky, and he tilted his head up sluggishly. 

A set of stars, brighter than the rest, the clouds seeming to part around them. He knew the constellation by heart, for it had always been his favorite one, but now he felt like he couldn’t breathe as he finally understood something, his eyes widening as his jaw slackened and salty tears touched his tongue. 

The wounded healer up in the sky, scattered amongst the stars, paled in brilliance to the one who had sat out by the helm earlier that night, silhouetted by moonlight.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Hongjoong did everything he could to change who he had become in the recent months, to alter Seonghwa’s perception of him and show that he wasn’t as cruel as he had always seemed. They had become accustomed to only catching occasional glimpses of one another, either in the cafeteria or in the halls, but Hongjoong didn’t want to continue being absent. He missed his crew, and he hadn’t been fulfilling his duty as captain, and he no longer possessed the resentment towards Seonghwa that had driven him away all this time. 

All he felt now was guilt, still lingering even if he weren’t actively thinking about it, though it surged every time he encountered the man he had hurt unjustly. He couldn’t look at Seonghwa without his eyes burning, and yet he made no move to escape like he would have before. If Seonghwa had learned how to live on a ship with the man who had prolonged the suffering he had been forced to bear for years, then Hongjoong could deal with his own guilt. It was the least he deserved. 

Sometimes he found himself seeking out Seonghwa on purpose, for though he still knew very little about the doctor, the loss of his resentment had opened the doors for other feelings instead. Curiosity, not only in regard to Seonghwa’s past but concerning everything about him - the velvety delivery of his words when he talked, his perfect posture at all times, his easy affection with the others. Concern, when he noticed Seonghwa flexing his fingers or allowed his eyes to linger too long on the thin scar wrapping around his neck. 

He had become quite familiar with another feeling that he wasn’t sure he wanted to identify, though it made his words jumble and his heart thump when they were near one another. Hongjoong tried continuously to engage in conversation with the others when Seonghwa was around, even asking him the occasional question, though he never received any substantial answers. He couldn’t really blame the man for that, for Hongjoong’s change in demeanor must have been confusing for him, and that only added to his guilt. 

The truth was, now that he was able to view Seonghwa without his own misguided narrative getting in the way, he realized just how remarkable he was. He loved so openly despite his hurt, and no lingering tensions existed between him and the rest of the crew, as if he had completely forgiven them for ever bringing him onto this ship. 

He was beautiful, his eyes big and round and his jaw both strong and elegant, and he seemed to observe a lot of things with undisguised wonder, as if he weren’t quite sure of how the world worked at times. Hongjoong could relate to that, but he had never let it show. He had always thought it to be shameful, but when he saw Seonghwa fascinated by something so small, he could only find it to be endearing. 

In his mind, he felt all of these things, but he still found it difficult to express himself around Seonghwa, the massive weight of what he had done always hovering in the balance between the two of them. How could he speak casually to the same man he had impaled through the hand? But he feared saying anything that could be taken the wrong way either, so most of the time his words were just awkward. 

He knew the others noticed this, for he had received many strange looks from them and subtle jabs of teasing when Seonghwa wasn’t around. None of it annoyed him though, for he was just grateful to feel a sense of normalcy on the ship again. His crew must have realized that something had conspired between the two of them - perhaps Seonghwa had even spoken to them about it - but they didn’t push for answers, seemingly just happy to have them both around the ship. 

Hongjoong wanted to know Seonghwa so badly, but he couldn’t blame Seonghwa for still hating him when he had only changed his ways upon learning that he had been dreadfully wrong. If they had never spoken on the deck that night, Hongjoong knew he wouldn’t have given up his idea that Seonghwa was an enemy. He had been so ignorant, and his heart ached every time he thought about it. 

Most of the time, Seonghwa resolutely ignored him,  even when he ate meals in the cafeteria with everyone else or spent time in the crew quarters briefly at night before heading for his own bedroom. The two of them rarely exchanged any words with one another, conversation typically flowing between the other six crew members despite Hongjoong’s best attempts to engage him. He knew that he would need to do a lot more to combat even the smallest of his cruel actions, if that would even be possible at all. 

Still, he couldn’t let go of the way Chiron had emerged in the sky, the realization he had come to in that moment. He felt like he needed to make things right between the two of them, because he felt drawn to Seonghwa for reasons he couldn’t even begin to understand. Whenever they were together, Hongjoong felt something tug in his chest, like an invisible string connecting their two wounded hearts. 

Ever since he was a boy, he had hoped to find someone like Chiron, a wounded healer of his own. Someone to soften his sharp edges, to teach him how to set his pain free and lean into gentleness. He knew that Seonghwa was that person - he could feel it in his bones, like they were meant to be connected somehow. But he would never get there if he couldn’t rewrite the awful opinion of him that he knew Seonghwa held. 

It was as if those days were the first beginnings of peace after the storm, as a fragile coexistence finally emerged between the two of them. It appeared as if they all hoped it would last - that there would be no more arguments, despite their shared stubborn natures. All Hongjoong knew was that if they did argue, he needed to be the one to back down, especially until he found a time to draw Seonghwa away from the rest and apologize. In order to maintain this delicate civility, he knew he had to try to be less stubborn, less volatile. 

 Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa still suffered from nightmares, for he had heard the dull sounds of his screams through his own door as he remained sleepless himself, too heavy with the weight of his guilt to lie down and close his eyes. If Seonghwa was having trouble sleeping because he had saved Hongjoong’s life that day, then Hongjoong didn’t deserve to sleep either.

At least the others had encouraged Seonghwa to take short naps during the day, and that seemed to be helping, though his skin was still wan, eyes still hollow with exhaustion. He didn’t seem to be getting any worse, but he certainly wasn’t improving either, and Hongjoong had spent hours deliberating a solution without being able to find one. After all, he had been suffering from nightmares his entire life, and he had never found a way to stop them from preying upon his defenseless mind. 

Hongjoong had noticed Seonghwa’s disappearance about an hour ago, and he knew the man must have been sleeping, though he never slept much longer than that. He would be woken up by one of the others soon, and Hongjoong chewed the inside of his cheek as he turned away from the storage crates he had been staring at for the past hour. 

He had intended to take stock of their dwindling supplies while Seonghwa was asleep, for they were running dangerously low, the constant hum of anxiety running beneath his skin. And yet, he hadn’t accomplished a single thing in the last hour, opening the door to peek out into the hall every few minutes to check if Wooyoung would be the one coming to wake up his sleeping friend. 

Yunho and Yeosang would be waiting for him to finalize their plans and talk to the rest of the crew, but they could wait for a little while, as this was more important. The guilt had been consuming his mind since that night on the deck, and he had been itching to talk to Wooyoung, though he was always with Seonghwa. Catching him alone was nearly impossible, and this might be his only chance to ask for the answers he so desperately wanted. 

He knew in his heart that Seonghwa wasn’t an enemy, that he was perhaps the furthest thing from it after saving Hongjoong’s life, but he still needed to hear it from one of the boys he considered his family. Wooyoung was the obvious choice, for the two of them had been at each other’s throats from the start, and even an outsider like himself could tell that the boy possessed a special bond with Seonghwa. 

Peeking out into the hallway again, he heard Wooyoung’s cloth shoes before he actually saw him, and his heart stuttered against his ribs as he exited the storage room, trying his best to appear natural as he headed in the direction of the footsteps. They encountered each other a moment later in front of the crew quarters, both of them stopping in their tracks, surprise briefly touching Wooyoung’s features. 

Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak, already preparing to whisper in order to protect Seonghwa’s sleep, though he didn’t have the chance. “Seonghwa is sleeping, be quiet,” Wooyoung hissed, though his voice didn’t hold any animosity - he was merely concerned, though he had no reason to be since Hongjoong had already been intending to keep his volume as low as possible. 

“Sorry,” he said anyway, for there was no use in trying to explain his intentions when he had come here for more pressing reasons. “I just… I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said tentatively, knowing that his anxiety must have shown on his face. He wasn’t scared to talk to Wooyoung - he knew that the boy would be understanding, but he still shifted his feet, uncomfortable at the thought of being vulnerable. He knew he needed to be, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

Wooyoung sighed, his eyes remorseful as he glanced at the door. “I can talk later, but I’m supposed to wake him up now,” he informed, though he sounded slightly regretful for having to turn him away. Panic bloomed in Hongjoong’s chest as he noticed the boy begin to turn away, and he grabbed for his wrist, feeling the fragility of the bones beneath his hand. 

“I know, just - it’ll be quick. I’m supposed to go talk to Yunho and Yeosang now, but I just saw you and I need to talk to you. Please,” he practically begged, his urgency audible in his words, and he felt Wooyoung still beneath his touch. Hongjoong so rarely initiated such contact, and Wooyoung must have realized that he had come here for something important, taking a step back from the door. 

“Fine, just please be quick, okay?” he relented, and Hongjoong nodded rapidly, relinquishing his grip on the boy’s wrist. He could see the worry in Wooyoung’s eyes grow as he took in the slightly frantic state of his captain, the tension leaving his shoulders and his lips drawing down at the corners. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong breathed, exhaling in relief. “Well, I’m sure you heard from Seonghwa about the, um, argument we had a few nights ago.” He paused, and Wooyoung nodded, confirming what Hongjoong had already expected. It didn’t bother him, though, for he was glad that Seonghwa had been able to talk about his feelings instead of letting them fester inside.

Nervous, Hongjoong pursed his lips, flexing his fingers to hide how they were shaking. “He said some things… about how being a pirate was never his choice, and how he had to learn to defend himself when he was young. I just - can you please tell me what he meant? I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I know that regardless of what I’ve thought all this time he clearly wasn’t the enemy I painted him to be,” he admitted, forcing as much honesty as he could into his words, desperate to make his guilt known. 

He didn’t want to be misunderstood anymore - he couldn’t stand the thought of all he had done, and he wanted it to be known that he regretted everything, that he had been so painfully wrong. The guilt was eating him alive, had been for days, and he needed this clarification before he drowned in it. He needed to know just how similar the two of them were, how truly sadistic his acts of violence had been. How monstrous of a person he actually was. 

Silence hung heavy between the two of them for a moment, his words seeming to echo their way down the halls, and Wooyoung couldn’t mask the shock on his face. His lips had parted, and he swallowed thickly as he seemed to struggle for the right words. After how remorseless Hongjoong had been every time they argued, he knew his admission of his wrongs must have caught him entirely off guard. 

Just because Seonghwa had told them about their argument that night didn’t mean that they understood anything about how Hongjoong had handled the information. They had no idea how long he had sat by the rails, the wind gusting through his clothes as he stared down at the waves, debating if his life had ever served any purpose other than to hurt. If his life was worth living at all. 

They had no idea how his mindset had changed, though he could see as it began to dawn on Wooyoung now, his eyes daring to widen with hope for Hongjoong after months of having it snuffed out. “Hongjoong… to be quite honest, there’s a lot that you missed about Seonghwa due to the narrative you forced on him from the start.” His voice was hesitant, as if he still expected Hongjoong to explode on him, the slight fear in his eyes driving a blade through Hongjoong’s chest. 

“We all suspected the truth of his past well before he even told us, because we weren’t determined to see him as an enemy. It’s not my place to tell you the meaning behind his words, if you truly want to know you’ll have to swallow your pride and ask him yourself,” Wooyoung continued, and though he had expected the answer he still let loose a gentle sigh, nodding in understanding and casting his gaze towards the floor. 

He knew he would need to talk to Seonghwa himself, and he swallowed audibly, hating the lump that had begun to gather in his throat. “I understand, and you’re right. You all were, all this time,” he admitted, though it wasn’t difficult, for he had never been more sure of anything in his life. He had been so mistaken that it physically hurt, and he raised a hand to his chest, pressing down in an attempt to relieve the ache even though he knew it would have no effect. 

Though the pain felt physical, he knew it ran so much deeper than that, and it worsened as he exposed his vulnerabilities even further, for this was long overdue. “I am so, so sorry, Wooyoung. For never listening to you, and fighting with you for weeks. I was so stupid, and I should have known when you all disagreed with me that I was wrong. I was blinded by my own need for revenge against someone who wasn’t even who I thought he was. For all of that, I am sorry.”

He tried his best to keep his words clear, even as his eyes blurred with tears and his heart thumped an irregular beat that seemed to pulse through his whole body. His face burned and the tips of his fingers had gone numb, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Wooyoung after the rift he had created between them for no reason at all. As badly as he wished he could go back and fix everything from the beginning, all he could offer was this apology, though it could never be enough. 

Soft fingers brushed underneath his chin, lightly pushing his head back up, and Hongjoong obeyed despite how he wished to crumble when their eyes met. Wooyoung’s were lined with unshed tears as well, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile even as his lips trembled. 

“Thank you, for saying that,” he responded, his voice thick with emotion, eyes shining. “I missed you, Hongjoong. I just wanted to save him, but I didn’t want to lose you either. I’m happy you’re back.” His words were a whisper, his relief palpable, and Hongjoong tried his best to return the smile even as his facial muscles twitched.

He didn’t know how to describe the air between the two of them, but he could see the fear leave Wooyoung’s face, his expression finally at ease. Hongjoong had realized his wrongs at last, and the two of them wouldn’t have to fight anymore, and he could see that this was all Wooyoung had ever wanted. 

Before Hongjoong could understand what he was doing, he raised his arms shakily, holding them out in front of him. He felt so awkward that he wanted to swing them right back down to his sides, but he didn’t, forcing himself to take a deep breath and watch as Wooyoung’s features shifted into a clear display of disbelief. 

The boy just stared at him for a moment, and Hongjoong could tell when he decided to let himself hope, a tear rolling down his cheek as he surged forward and wrapped his arms so tight around Hongjoong’s middle that he struggled to breathe for a moment. Remembering what he was supposed to do when hugging someone, he tightened his arms around Wooyoung as well, their chests flush against one another as their bodies shared in warmth. 

Still not used to the feeling of physical comfort, Hongjoong didn’t loosen up right away, though when he did he completely melted into Wooyoung’s arms. The boy was holding him like he would never again let go, and he couldn’t believe that he had gone so long without experiencing this kind of love. Just for a moment he could let go of his guilt, for at least he knew that one person still loved him, despite all he had done to deserve the opposite. 

“I love you,” he breathed into Wooyoung’s shoulder, so quiet that he didn’t even know if the boy himself would be able to hear, though he knew he had when the arms around his waist tightened even further. 

“I love you, too. I missed you,” Wooyoung murmured back, matching his volume, and they continued to hold each other for a little while longer. Neither of them wanted to let go, but Wooyoung had come to this door for a reason, and Hongjoong didn’t want to be the reason why Seonghwa slipped into another nightmare if allowed to sleep for too long. 

He pulled back reluctantly, although his heart wasn’t quite as heavy as before, the slight curve to his lips more natural as he squeezed Wooyoung’s shoulders one last time. “I’ll let you wake him now, I have to find Yunho anyway. We actually wanted to gather you all out on deck to discuss something, so if you could head out there with Seonghwa when you’re ready, that would be great,” Hongjoong said, taking a step back, his smile growing when Wooyoung saluted him. 

“Thank you,” he said by way of a farewell, and Wooyoung waved as he departed, his boots sounding along the wooden planks as he made his way towards the deck, feeling much lighter than before. His whole body tingled after the embrace, and he couldn’t keep the smile off his lips, wanting to hold onto this feeling forever. 

Was this what he had been missing all along? 

~

Not long after that, almost the entire crew had gathered near the helm, and Hongjoong stood tall despite his dread. Himself, Yunho, and Yeosang had discussed their options, and despite his fear concerning the one they had ultimately chosen, he knew he couldn’t allow it to show in front of any of his crew. He had been the one to push for this plan and he would need to explain why, for as much as he didn’t like it, their situation was crossing from precarious to dire. 

Only Seonghwa and Wooyoung were still missing, and Hongjoong glanced up to watch when the door to the deck finally opened, the two of them walking across to join the rest. As they came closer, Hongjoong noted how the wind blew Seonghwa’s hair away from his face, nose already tinged red from the chill. He looked so fragile in the oversized jacket he wore, the sleeves pulled down to obscure all but the tips of his fingers. 

Noticing his gaze, Seonghwa met his eyes and gave him a soft nod before sitting with the rest of the crew, only Yeosang still standing by Hongjoong’s side with a map in his hands. Jaw slackening in surprise, Hongjoong could only stare for a moment before he remembered to close his mouth, hoping the others would assume his cheeks had turned pink from the wind. Though Seonghwa had acknowledged him a few times since their argument, Hongjoong had always been the one to initiate the interaction, and now he had to struggle to regain his composure in order to address the group as a whole. 

He clapped his hands together to get their attention, forcing his nerves down. “Okay, now that we’re all here let’s get started. I just wanted to let you all know of a change in plans. Yeosang, Yunho, and I have been assessing our best options in regard to a supply stop.” After losing so many of their supplies in the battle, they were running dangerously low, and he knew that the others knew this. 

They still thought that the ship was headed for another port, however, for that was what Hongjoong had told them, and he grimaced internally as he continued. “We had originally planned to continue to sail until we reach the port, but the skies indicate a potential storm coming our way, and we can’t risk getting thrown off course. We need the supplies in the next few days, or else we are going to have a hard time, and a setback would put our arrival outside of that ideal window.”

His crew nodded their understanding, though he could feel the sudden worry that hung over the deck, for the first signs of a storm were obvious to everyone. The skies were overcast, and the waves were unruly, and it was only a matter of times until the rains began. Still, Hongjoong braced himself, for he knew they wouldn’t like his plan - in fact, he suspected one person in particular would have something to say, and he had no idea how to handle that without reverting back to their former animosity. 

“However, we do have a solution to this problem. About a few hours distance from our current position, there is a small seaside village. If we dock on their shore, there should be a nearby storage hut that we can raid for supplies. We’ll have to be in and out quickly, as once they see our ship coming they will likely prepare themselves to defend the supplies. Therefore, I propose that myself, Yunho, and Jongho raid the hut, while the rest of you stay aboard in case there is a need to defend the ship.”

And sure enough, Seonghwa had already risen to his feet before Hongjoong was even finished, the knuckles of his clenched fists barely visible underneath his jacket. “No, we can’t do that! Those people likely need their supplies - it’s going to start getting colder, and if we raid them now they may not survive the winter. Thank you for sharing your proposal ,” his lip curled as he spoke the word, “but I want no part of this. I will not hurt people for defending what is rightfully theirs.” He leveled Hongjoong with a glare that translated exactly what he thought of his plan, and Hongjoong wished he hadn’t needed to explain it so soon, for any progress he had tried to make was clearly gone now. 

He sighed wearily, for even though he had expected this, that didn’t make it any easier. “Seonghwa, pirates are not known to be righteous. This is what we do - I care too much for my crew to allow our supplies to dwindle when there is a solution just hours away. I no longer deny you your place on this crew,” he finally admitted, for though he had been thinking it since that night on the deck, he hadn’t possessed the courage to say it aloud. “You are one of us, but there are still things you do not understand about how we live.”

Desperately trying to keep his voice gentle, Hongjoong hoped that his intent came across correctly, for he wasn’t trying to scold Seonghwa. He wasn’t even necessarily telling him that he was wrong - he understood the protest, and if he hadn’t been the captain he likely would have agreed, but it was his duty to place the safety of his crew before anything else. Even the lives of innocents, despite how the thought made him wince. 

No wonder Seonghwa was angry, for he had been in the same position as the people they were about to raid, on the receiving end of Hongjoong’s need to protect his crew. Only this time, they were actually at risk, and he couldn’t back down no matter how badly he wished to. 

“There must be another way to avoid the storm, or prolong the supplies we already have until we can reach the port. Don’t think me naive - I know the situation is dire, but you cannot expect me to abandon my morals like you clearly have.” The words cut deep, deeper than Seonghwa probably knew, and it took every ounce of his self restraint not to let it show. If he faltered now, he would lose this battle, and he couldn’t let his crew suffer because of it. 

“There is a reason why I am the captain of this crew,” Hongjoong responded, trying to keep his voice calm for fear of escalating this further. “I don’t like this decision any more than you, I would prefer to reach the port, but I can’t put you all at risk. We have a guaranteed source of supplies, and we are going to take advantage of it. If you don’t want to be a part of it, you are welcome to remain in your quarters.”

He knew that Seonghwa wouldn’t do that, but he said it anyway, trying to explain his reasoning. Of course he didn’t want to steal supplies from these people, and he wouldn’t hurt them unless necessary, but their need for supplies outweighed the moral consequences right now. It pained him to admit that to himself, for he was only proving Seonghwa correct, but he had never claimed to be a good person. 

“And what will you do if a member of your crew gets hurt doing things this way?” Hongjoong could tell that Seonghwa was floundering for something that would make him change his mind, but he refused to budge, even as the thought chilled him down to his bones. He had to believe that no one would be hurt, that for once luck would actually be on their side. 

Either he risked the danger, or he watched his crew starve - his choice was clear. “I will not allow that - we have a plan that will allow us to easily overpower the villagers. I would not be doing this if it wasn’t our only option.” He held Seonghwa’s stare as he spoke, voice firm even as his mind faltered, for he couldn’t allow the others to know how scared he was. All he could see were the ways his plan could fail, far from foolproof, but the other option was too risky to entertain. 

Angry as he was, Hongjoong could see the moment Seonghwa gave up on trying to change his mind, allowing Wooyoung to pull him back down to the deck. His glare did not soften, however, and Hongjoong struggled not to squirm under the disapproval. Normally unintimidating, Seonghwa seemed to transform when he was livid, his jaw tight and his eyes flaming, his softer features cast in shadow as the sharper ones dominated his face. 

Hongjoong had to look away from him, staring out at the sea for a moment to clear his head as Yeosang stepped forward instead, his voice attempting to cut through the tension. “We are currently here, and the village is right up ahead. Our ship will arrive in a few hours, right at dusk. The timing is ideal - it will give Hongjoong, Yunho, and Jongho the cover of night to get the supplies undetected.” He must have been pointing at his map, for Hongjoong could hear the parchment crinkling in the wind. 

Inhaling deeply, Hongjoong looked back at his crew when Yunho got to his feet and stood at his side, offering his silent support. “The three of us will go inside the hut, assuming you are okay with that, Jongho?” Jongho nodded silently in response, and Yunho continued. “Okay, so as soon as we arrive on shore, we will go get the supplies as fast as possible. The rest of you will stay here, San and Mingi keep your eyes peeled and shoot if you need to. None of the villagers should even have the opportunity to reach the ship, but if they do Yeosang will take care of them.”

As Yeosang nodded, his expression grim, Seonghwa spoke up again with a groan. “I will help. I refuse to kill them, I will merely knock them unconscious if need be, but I don’t like the thought of Yeosang out here alone.” Hongjoong had expected it, but his fears still eased slightly knowing that Seonghwa would be there to defend the ship. He had proven himself a force to be reckoned with, and they needed him. 

Turning to Wooyoung, Seonghwa spoke again, his tone more gentle. “Hopefully no one will come to the ship, and you’ll be okay to stay out on deck. If we do have to fight, I will protect you, same as last time. Okay?” Wooyoung nodded, though his anxiety was obvious, and Hongjoong bit down on his lower lip, the sharp pain grounding him. Guilt had become his woeful companion as of late, but he still hated the feeling as he observed Wooyoung’s fear of another battle so soon. 

“Don’t think I agree with this - I hate everything about it. However, I know you will do it regardless, and I will not risk any of this crew getting hurt if I can help it,” Seonghwa ground out, his eyes once again falling upon Hongjoong, and all he could do was nod. He didn’t want to say anything else and shatter their relationship further, not when it ripped his heart out for Seonghwa to look at him like he hadn’t changed at all. 

“We mainly need to get more gunpowder for the cannons, as well as whatever food we can find, as we are running low, right Wooyoung?” Hongjoong questioned, redirecting his attention to the cook, who nodded in confirmation where he sat by Seonghwa’s side.

“It’s likely that multiple trips will need to be made, then. We will first go in for the gunpowder, and then the food. Try to find things that will be easy to bring back but will last us for a while, like bags of rice, dried meats, and beans. Stay away from perishables for now, we can get more of them when we stop for a larger supply restock in the future.” Both Yunho and Jongho confirmed their understanding, for they would be the ones helping him to gather the supplies they needed.

Hongjoong nodded, not yet done briefing them all, for he needed to make sure that they were all as prepared as possible. “It shouldn’t take long, we are aiming to pull away from their beach as quickly as possible. Just remember to stay alert, it will get dark which will help keep us hidden but will also prevent us from seeing attackers. We have performed raids more dangerous than this one - we should be just fine.” He tried his best to sound reassuring, though none of his crew appeared very reassured. 

After mentioning a few more minor points, he dismissed them all with the promise to notify them once the village was closer. They all stood from the deck and meandered their way inside, and Hongjoong watched them go from his place at the helm, although Seonghwa didn’t follow. He stayed right where he was, not entirely unexpected, and Hongjoong sighed wearily as he prepared himself for the worst now that the crew wasn’t there to keep either of them in check. 

Seonghwa whirled on him as soon as the cabin door shut, his eyes flashing, standing out like lightning in the stormy skies surrounding the ship. “I don’t know what your deal has been these past few days, waltzing around the ship like everything is back to normal just to spring this bullshit on us out of nowhere.” Hongjoong could barely conceal a flinch at the explosive tone, the hostility so blatant that he had to fight not to react, his defenses already rising. Seonghwa’s anger was fully unrestrained now that they were alone, and he didn’t know how to face it, his every instinct screaming at him to cower, to protect himself.

“Perhaps if you had confided in your crew days ago, we could have come up with something else. But now we are hours away, and they are all going to have to harm innocents because of your superiority complex!” His voice was so loud , carrying through the air that surrounded the entire ship, encasing them in a veil of heat despite the chill of the wind.

It took all of Hongjoong’s self restraint not to raise his voice in return, his body trembling with all of the emotions he held inside, his grip on his resolve already loosening. “I understand that you care for them, but can you not see how that is the very reason I am doing this? I don’t get off on harming innocent people, and contrary to what you may think I don’t want to do this. I know I have given you no reason to believe my words, but they are the truth.” 

Seonghwa scoffed, disregarding him completely, and Hongjoong clenched his fists to conceal how his hands shook. “If you care for them so much, why do you risk them like this? If a group ambushes you in the hut, the three of you won’t be able to take them all! I know you think your plan is foolproof, but open your eyes to the many things that can go wrong!” Seonghwa’s chest was heaving now, his indignance palpable, his hair wild and his features raw with rage as Hongjoong refused to understand him.

Only Hongjoong did understand him, but he was so shaken that he just needed to get away, for he knew he couldn’t change his mind. They would argue all day if he didn’t leave. “Don’t claim I am being ignorant when you don’t even understand the full story! We have raided this village before, we know what to expect from them. We know how to get inside their hut, and we know what their defenses are like. I am not sending the three of us in there blind, and the rest of you will be safe on the ship, so do not demean my ability to protect my crew,” Hongjoong spoke, voice cold to hide the way it wanted to tremble. 

“You do not make the decisions here. You are a part of my crew, under my command. Act like it.” Taking advantage of Seonghwa’s brief silence, he quickly vacated the helm, heading into the cabin with his heart clawing its way into his throat. He had fucked everything up all over again, but he just didn’t know what else to do. 

He needed to keep his crew safe, but the only way to acquire supplies immediately was to carry out this plan, and the storm was darkening fast. They had no time to waste, but he still felt like he had already lost as he burst through the cabin door. Seonghwa was so stubborn, but Hongjoong couldn’t even blame him for this, since he was merely acting on his morals. 

Hongjoong had never been raised with a set of morals to begin with, had never had the chance to impart mercy upon anyone, and even though he had tried to learn after his escape, he was still a lifetime behind. He could never measure up to the rest of his crew, but it still hurt to be reminded of how far gone he would always be. 

~

As the village came into view on the horizon, a dark shadow slowly growing more opaque as they approached, the crew again stood by the helm with anxiety thick in the air. Moisture clung to the leather armor they had all donned in preparation for the raid, and Hongjoong could feel the impending storm, the sky darker than it should have been as dusk settled over the sea. 

“Hopefully we’ll miss the rain,” Yunho mumbled from his side, and Hongjoong nodded his agreement, for they didn’t need any added obstacles. Jongho stood with them as well, though none of them wanted to talk about their mission itself, minds running wild with all of the ways it could go wrong. 

“It’ll be okay,” Hongjoong said after a moment, though he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. “We’ve done this before, and we’ve always made it out okay. It sucks, and I wish we didn’t have to do it, but these people don’t know how to defend themselves against pirates. I don’t even think they’ll try.” 

Jongho exhaled heavily, and Hongjoong could see the way his shoulders strained against the weight he was forced to bear, even as he maintained his neutral expression. “I know that we can defend ourselves, but I just hope they’ll be okay on the ship without us. I know they’re capable, but I just - I can’t help but worry.” His eyes were wide, pools of darkness as the sun disappeared from the sky, and Hongjoong reached over to him before he could stop himself. 

He grasped Jongho’s hand in his own, both of their palms calloused and rough, and he watched the boy’s face shift as he stared down at the contact, mouth falling open in surprise. “Hongjoong…” he murmured, though he didn’t seem to know what else to say, looking up at him with questions evident in all of his features. 

“For good luck,” Hongjoong said firmly, grabbing Yunho’s hand as well and squeezing both of them lightly before letting go. Such affection still made him uncomfortable, but his desire to keep them calm outweighed his personal feelings, his fingers tingling long after they had separated. “We’re all going to be okay.” He nearly turned the words into a promise, but he couldn’t let himself do that, for he couldn’t be certain of the outcome. As badly as he wished they would all make it through untouched, he wasn’t one to provide his crew with false hope either. 

Still, both of them seemed to stand a little taller after that, the set of their shoulders strong as they watched Yeosang continue to steer the ship forward. San and Mingi were speaking in hushed tones a few feet away, and Wooyoung and Seonghwa stood by the front railing, their reluctance evident even without seeing their faces. 

Hongjoong’s heart ached as he watched Seonghwa fuss over the straps of Wooyoung’s armor, the younger boy slapping his hands away with a grin. He could tell that Seonghwa had done it just to put a smile on Wooyoung’s face, and that kind of love was so pure that he felt his heart flutter, fiddling with the straps of his own armor as his cheeks grew warm. He wondered what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of something like that. 

“Get ready, we’re close now!” Yeosang’s voice echoed across the ship, and Hongjoong stiffened, feeling the others draw closer as they all listened. “We can only pull up so far - we need to still be able to make a clean escape. Mingi will drop the anchor at my cue, and we’ll drop the ladder. It’ll stay down the whole time, as you need to make multiple trips, though Seonghwa and I will guard it from any intruders. You should land in a few feet of water - it’ll be uncomfortable to complete the raid in wet armor, but it’s the best we can do,” the navigator announced to them all from his position at the wheel.

They had no time left to waste now, and Hongjoong could feel the pressure of his knives concealed at his waist, for he had chosen to leave his sword behind in favor of increasing his agility. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use them at all, but he wouldn’t dream of taking this kind of risk while defenseless. Jongho and Yunho had both equipped themselves with weapons as well, and the three of them shared a glance, expressions stony. 

When Yeosang called for Mingi to drop the anchor, Hongjoong approached the rails with his head held high, swallowing down any fear that still lingered. The other two followed him, and as Yeosang unfurled the rope ladder they would use to climb down from the ship, they checked over their armor and weapons one last time. 

Hongjoong made sure that both Jongho and Yunho were as well protected as possible before he took a step back, running a hand through his hair as the wind swept it back from his face. The sun had disappeared entirely aside from a few wisps of darkening color that extended into the sky from the horizon in the west, and the land that stretched out before them was shrouded in darkness, ominous and strangely vacant. 

“Follow my lead,” he ordered, voice gruff as any of his former tenderness vanished, and they both nodded their assent. Sharing a long look with Yeosang, Hongjoong stepped over the railing and placed his foot on the first rung of the ladder, ignoring how it swung in the wind. He had done this too many times to count, and he quickly descended until he was able to drop down into the sea, the water instantly soaking through his clothing. 

A chill leached through to his skin instantly, but he didn’t feel it as the others landed beside him, none of them saying a word as Hongjoong turned to lead the way to the storage hut. Nothing more than a dark outline now, the structure grew larger as they approached, and Hongjoong knew that they had made the right choice. There would be enough supplies inside a hut this large to sustain them until they could make a proper stop, and plenty would remain to keep the villagers alive as well. 

As the water level began to lower, he kept his steps stealthy so as to avoid splashing, Yunho and Jongho doing the same until they had all made it onto the beach. The storage hut sat directly in front of them, but Hongjoong still swept his eyes over the shore, watching for movement. He found nothing, all of the other structures still in the night, and though unease churned in his gut he pushed forward. They had no time to waste. 

Sand crunching under his boots, Hongjoong pushed open the door to the hut slowly, a slab of connecting pieces of bamboo that gave easily under his touch. Before the others could follow him inside, he scanned the interior, though he found nothing but crates. Crates full of heavenly supplies, and his heart sang in relief as he glanced inside of the nearest one, finding it full of nonperishable foods. 

“Find the gunpowder,” he hissed to his companions, though he made a mental note of the contents of each crate as he searched, marking the ones he would take on their next trip. 

Several tense minutes trickled by until finally, Jongho’s sharp whisper filled the hut. “Over here.” Hongjoong wasted no time, weaving through the stacks of crates until he was beside the boy, Yunho already there. Sure enough, the crates before him were stocked to the brim with leather sacks of gunpowder, and he allowed a grin to tug at his lips at the sight. 

Wordlessly, they each grabbed one of the crates, supporting the heavy weight on a shoulder as they departed the hut and headed back for the ship. Still no signs of life were broadcasted from the beach, and Hongjoong began to feel his tension loosen, hopeful that perhaps they wouldn’t run into any villagers at all. Maybe his argument with Seonghwa had been for nothing, and they would be able to pick up where they left off. 

They maneuvered their way back to the ship through the roughening waves that were now driving against them, but by the time they reached the ladder Hongjoong was practically beaming. Yunho and Jongho held the bottom of the ladder steady and at enough of an angle so that Hongjoong could offset some of the weight of the crate he was carrying, keeping it between his shoulder and the ladder as he ascended. 

Breaths tore from his lungs by the time he reached the top, but he didn’t care as he set the crate down, eyes finding Seonghwa immediately. His arms were crossed in disapproval, and the sight only made his smile grow, intending for it to appear playful. “There’s no one around! We were able to take anything we wanted,” he explained, though he could see the way Seonghwa’s brow furrowed, clearly not convinced. 

Hongjoong went back down for the other two crates and brought them up as well before leaving the ship again, the three of them wading through the water with ease as the momentum of the waves carried them forward. They grabbed their next set of supplies, this time going for the crates stocked with nonperishable food like rice and beans, again encountering no one all the way through. 

They were so nearly finished, for the crates were so stocked that one more trip would provide them with enough until they could dock at a port later, and they trudged back through the water. Tiny silhouettes of the rest of the crew were just barely visible against the dark clouds obscuring the stars and moon, and this time Yunho ascended the ladder while Jongho and Hongjoong held it in place. 

After bringing the crates up to the deck he splashed back down into the water, and the three of them went back for their final trip, the waves even rougher than before. Hongjoong could barely even hear his own breaths over the sound of them crashing upon the sand, and they entered the hut again with quick steps, breathing heavily as they secured the last round of crates. 

The muscles along Hongjoong’s arms and back had eased from a light strain into an unyielding burn, and he was relieved when they finally left the hut, eager to let go of this crate and regain his breath. However, as soon as the ship came into view he halted, blood shooting cold as dark figures flooded the surrounding waters. 

Although he could hardly hear due to the roar of the waves, he just barely made out the sound of distant gunfire, eyes blowing wide with panic as he glanced at Yunho and Jongho. Their faces mirrored his same reaction, and the three of them took off without a word, this time disregarding the noise they made as they tore through the endless assault of seawater. 

As they drew closer it became evident that the villagers had gone straight for the rope ladder, and Hongjoong cursed roughly, his words snatched away by the wind. One figure stood by the railing opposite the gunfire, his arms waving above his head haphazardly, and Hongjoong pointed in that direction. 

“Go that way!” He yelled, and Yunho and Jongho must have heard him despite the increasing volume of the gunfire as they approached, following behind as Hongjoong changed his course in the new direction. He exhaled shakily as he realized that one of his crew had pulled up the ladder and dropped it over this side instead, granting them safe passage onto the ship. 

Hongjoong whirled around, gesturing at the ladder as he fixed Jongho with a look that kept his protests at bay. “You first,” he ordered as loudly as he could manage, and Jongho wasted no time climbing up the ladder, Hongjoong and Yunho holding it in place for him.

Once the weapons master had made it safely to the top, no doubt already jumping to join the others and defend the ship, Hongjoong pushed Yunho forward next, maintaining his grip on the bottom of the ladder. Yunho appeared as if he were going to object, but Hongjoong glared at him, fire in his bones despite the icy cold waves that continuously knocked against him. “Go!” he shouted, and Yunho went, though he took a bit longer to climb with only one person anchoring the bottom of the ladder. 

Arms appeared over the railing to pull Yunho over and onto the ship, and Hongjoong mentally thanked whoever it was, preparing to climb up himself next. The ladder swayed and flapped in the aggressive gusts of wind, and he reached out a hand to steady the bottom rungs, stepping up and clutching the bars for dear life. 

His hands were completely soaked, as was the ladder, but he still climbed as quickly as he could manage. Some of the contents of the crate tumbled free into the water, but that was the least of his concerns as he finally reached the top, arms trembling and teeth gritted as he forced his numb fingers to maintain their grip for just a few seconds longer. 

Once he was within range, he extended an arm over the side of the ship, desperately hoping that whoever had helped Yunho had stuck around to wait for him too. A split second of fear, and then strong fingers were wrapping around his own, helping to pull him over the side and onto the deck. 

Hongjoong dropped the crate, wiping the mingling sweat and mist from his eyes as he stared directly at Seonghwa, for he had been the one to help. Despite the urgency that raged through his blood, he still couldn’t help but notice that this was the first time Seonghwa had ever touched him willingly. 

Heart thumping, Hongjoong pulled his hand away, though he could still feel a tingling sensation traveling up his arm even after the touch had been terminated. Blaming it on his numb fingers beginning to regain feeling, he ignored it, his throat tight as he spoke. “What happened?” 

Seonghwa didn’t answer immediately, instead grabbing for the ladder and pulling it up to the deck, his breathing labored as he fell back against the rails once he was finished. His chest heaved visibly, the stark outline of his clavicle jutting out just above the top of his breastplate. “They came out of nowhere - right after you left for the last round. They nearly shot Mingi, I had to tell Yeosang to bring Wooyoung inside. They’re both safe.” He spoke in short, broken fragments, and his face appeared deathly pale in the dull moonlight, lips tinged purple and cheeks hollow. 

Fear resided in every groove of his expression and Hongjoong loosed a breath, running a hand over his own face. He could tell that Seonghwa was completely exhausted, giving everything he had to protect the ship, and he felt gratitude swell in his chest as he observed the man he had underestimated time and time again. 

In that very moment, as the two of them stared at one another, one lying crumpled against the rails while the other hardened himself in order to deliver his ship from this hell, Hongjoong made a vow to himself. Once they were again sailing free over the ocean, he would apologize for everything he had done, from the moment Seonghwa had been brought onto his ship. He didn’t care if that meant being vulnerable, or breaking down outside of the safety of his own solitude. An apology was long overdue, and he would grovel endlessly like a believer at the altar of their chosen god if that meant even the slightest possibility that Seonghwa would forgive him. 

This man had protected their crew with everything he had left, and Hongjoong would take over for him now. “I pulled up the ladder, had to get it to the other side. Mingi and San took care of most of them - last I checked they were okay too,” Seonghwa finished, out of breath by the last word, but Hongjoong was up and moving by then anyway. Before he left, however, he reached down to clasp Seonghwa’s shoulder, hoping that even just a shred of his gratitude would be conveyed by the gesture. 

Though gunfire still exploded through the air, Hongjoong felt the ship begin to move as he raced across the deck, heading straight for the wheel. Seonghwa had said that Yeosang was inside with Wooyoung, and they would never be able to steer their way back towards the open sea without someone to navigate. 

The wheel was slick with moisture, but Hongjoong kept his grip tight as he spun it with all of his might, praying to every deity that may have existed to keep his crew safe until the threat had diminished. Someone had raised the anchor, and though the waves were rough, the wind was strong enough to catch in the sails and carry them in the intended direction. 

Hongjoong threw all of his strength into the wheel, not relenting until the bow of the ship faced away from that dreadful beach, the villagers left behind as the distance between the crew and the shore grew with each passing minute. Still tense, Hongjoong scanned over his crew as he peeled off his armor, for he hadn’t been able to check them all for injury amidst the chaos. 

Down from the crow’s nest, San fled into the cabin, clearly uninjured from how quickly he moved. Yeosang and Wooyoung had been protected inside, and Mingi was still firing the occasional shot towards those who attempted to pursue their ship, though they would never catch up now that the wind supported their escape. The mechanic seemed to have acquired no outstanding wounds, and a glance at Yunho and Jongho confirmed the same. 

That only left Seonghwa, who still sat against the railing, sending a spike of worry through Hongjoong’s chest. He could make out no injuries, but he imagined that the man was still dealing with the type of pain that was far from physical, if his reaction to their last battle was any indication. Guilt dragged at Hongjoong’s shoulders, for he knew it was his fault that Seonghwa had been pulled back into dreadful memories, and though he wanted to approach he knew it would be best to give him space. 

“We’re all okay,” Jongho sighed as he came to a stop beside Hongjoong at the wheel, wiping the back of his wrist over his brow, strands of hair soaked with sweat. “But fuck, I wish we had never done that.” 

Hongjoong bit down on his lip, but he didn’t bother to protest, for he felt much the same. “That was way too close,” he admitted, a headache already beginning to throb at his temples, adrenaline pumping through his blood even as they left their attackers behind. “I’m sorry for making you do that. I just - I really didn’t think-” 

“It’s okay,” Jongho murmured, though the curve of his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. Still, he nudged Hongjoong with his elbow, trying to ease the tension that still gripped the entirety of the ship. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t expect it either. I never expected them to have guns. We should have prepared for that.” He shook his head softly, and Hongjoong looked away, eyes intending to find the horizon but instead landing on the figure headed their way. 

Seonghwa was still adorned in his armor, and as he approached Hongjoong found himself struggling to fill his lungs all the way with air, lips parting softly. Despite his clear exhaustion, Seonghwa was still the most ethereal being on the sea. When their eyes met, Hongjoong swore his irises glistened brighter than the glitter of the moonlight reflected on the waves, the skin of his face laced with the tranquil brilliance of the stars. 

Strands of hair brushed against the apples of his cheeks with the wind, and Hongjoong’s fingers longed to do the same. He wondered if Seonghwa’s hair was as silken as it appeared, as gentle as his soul. 

Quelling the urge, he instead allowed a soft smile to play over his lips, desperate to alleviate the stress that he had brought upon the newest member of his crew. “We all got out unscathed, didn’t we? I told you we would,” he teased, hoping that his voice sounded as light as he wanted it to, for he didn’t want his words to come off like a taunt. He intended for them to be playful, for he was desperate to set their differences aside now that the whole ordeal was over.

Seonghwa had been right to question his orders, and Hongjoong understood that now, and though he would apologize for his one-track mind later he first wanted to crack this tension between them. He received a scowl in response, however, and though his heart sank, he couldn’t deny that Seonghwa looked rather cute as he pouted. 

Expecting a sharp remark in return, Hongjoong braced himself, though Seonghwa’s voice was perhaps softer than he had ever heard it. “I suppose you were right after all,” he ceded, and Hongjoong frowned, his brows knitting together in confusion. Where was the stubborn retort, the sparks in his eyes? Though Hongjoong hated when they fought, he realized that he hated this more, for something about it wasn’t right. 

Before he could push the issue, the door to the cabin banged open. Yeosang walked out first, his eyes scanning over the rest of the crew to make sure they were safe, just as Hongjoong had done. Wooyoung and San followed close behind, San’s arm slung protectively around Wooyoung, and Hongjoong deflated in relief as his lips curved softly. They were okay. 

He watched as Wooyoung’s eyes fell directly upon Seonghwa, the boy bursting free of San’s embrace and hurling himself forward with unveiled desperation. Though Hongjoong didn’t yet know the details of what had transpired on the deck before his arrival, he could only assume that Wooyoung had been worried to death while he waited inside the cabin, and he flung himself straight into Seonghwa’s arms. 

A smile broke over Seonghwa’s face, wider than Hongjoong had ever seen it, and he felt like he was intruding as they clung to one another. Wooyoung’s hands grasped at the back of Seonghwa’s armor, his fingers trembling even now, and tears had already begun to spill down his cheeks. Neither of them was willing to let go for several moments, and Hongjoong couldn’t hide his awe as a tear trickled down Seonghwa’s cheek as well, an open display of emotion while they were all watching. 

How could he stand to feel so openly, especially around a man that he didn’t even trust, who had beaten and abused him for months? How could allow himself to be so vulnerable? Hongjoong was momentarily rendered speechless by it, and the trembling smile on his own lips grew as they slowly pulled away from one another, as if it physically pained them to do so. 

Seonghwa seemed to cling to Wooyoung as if he needed the support, as if he didn’t want to separate from the boy’s warmth ever again, but the smile on his face was bright even as his eyes seemed to dim. For a moment, Hongjoong thought he was swaying on his feet, though sometimes the rocking of the waves could have that effect on his vision, warping his perception. 

Excusing the thought, he watched as Wooyoung took a step back, his heart full with the sight of their affection even as he noticed the dark stain that had spread all along the boy’s shirt. It still crept along the white fabric, consuming more and more as it spread, and Hongjoong’s smile didn’t begin to fall until Wooyoung glanced down at himself, touching a trembling hand to the stain. 

He raised his palm to the night sky, and only then did Hongjoong understand that his skin was coated in blood, dark and glistening in the light of the moon. The entire world came crashing down in a single instant, Hongjoong’s limbs beginning to vibrate with dread as his mouth fell open in horror, unable to tear his eyes away from the blood. There was so much of it - how could there possibly be so much of it?

His first instinct was to rush towards Wooyoung, his vision blurring and his heart failing as he tried to piece together how the boy could have possible been injured all this time despite the lack of blood just seconds earlier, until a thud reverberated through the deck and he stopped in his tracks. A hysterical scream pierced the misty air, but Hongjoong hardly heard it as his blood pulsed loudly in his ears, his mind shrinking as he focused on just one thing. One thing that shattered everything. 

Seonghwa had fallen to his knees against the deck, and he was already beginning to list to one side, his body going completely limp. Only Wooyoung’s hands kept him upright as the boy fell to the ground as well, for he had been the one to scream, his hands shaking violently as he grasped at Seonghwa’s ashen skin, trying to unstrap his breastplate. 

“Seonghwa - Seonghwa, please, please be okay, please,” Wooyoung sobbed, loud anguished cries that rang out into the night, paralyzing Hongjoong from head to toe as he finally pulled the armor off. He unconsciously moved forward, entirely consumed by dread and guilt as he stared down at the wound that had been uncovered, nausea surging up from his gut despite his usual iron stomach. 

This was different - this was the very man he had just mocked. He had gloated to a dying man that they had all escaped unscathed, and now he faced the truth of how wrong he had been, sick with the intensity of his own guilt as he stared down at the mess of his own creation. 

Wooyoung had shoved up the hem of Seonghwa’s shirt, and though the area had been blocked by armor before, the wound was now able to bleed freely. So much blood covered the skin that Hongjoong couldn’t even tell where the source was, a scarlet pool forming beneath Seonghwa’s lethargic form. 

He had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep himself from gagging when he finally found the bullet hole, a black circle just above the right hip, continuously jetting blood seemingly without end. Hongjoong hadn’t heard Wooyoung cry like this since the day his mother died, his wails overflowing with pain so visceral that every one jabbed deep into Hongjoong’s heart, leaving behind wounds that he knew would never heal. For the rest of his life he would remember this moment, this horror, no matter what the outcome. 

A pained whimper escaped Seonghwa’s lips as he tried to raise himself off the floor, though he didn’t even seem to realize he had tried to move at all. One of his arms rose from his side, the fingers dripping blood as he grasped onto Wooyoung’s wrist, his hand firm even as the one in his grip trembled. “Don’t cry, Wooyoungie,” he choked out, though tears of his own coated his face, a salty river that mingled with the metallic one soaking the deck. 

Wooyoung was completely hysterical, his entire body quaking as he turned his head, eyes crazed as they landed upon Hongjoong. “Do something!” He cried, spit flying from his mouth, eyes and nose running as he gasped for breath. “This was your plan, save him Hongjoong!” 

Hongjoong’s heart ripped clean from his chest at the condemnation, leaving nothing but a gaping hole in its place, his ribcage cracked and shattered with nothing left to protect. He had failed, and this was all his fault. If only he had listened - despite his efforts, he had still treated Seonghwa the same as always, and he hated himself more than anyone else ever could. 

All eyes were upon him, and he felt his lips quiver as San gathered Wooyoung into his arms, both of them wracked with sobs as they all counted on him to do something, to save the man they had come to love. But what could he possibly do? He had made mistake after mistake, and now he stood to lose the person he had never even had the chance to gain, and he had never felt more helpless. 

Seonghwa had tried to talk him out of this foolhardy plan, and he had refused to listen. Even when Seonghwa had been sitting there slumped against the rails, he had done nothing - a hidden injury had never once crossed his mind. Sick realization crashed over him as he understood that Seonghwa had only kept himself together long enough to see that all seven of them were safe. Only then had he allowed himself to collapse, and the pure selflessness of that alone made his breath hitch, eyes burning. 

Hongjoong had never deserved someone so unreservedly kind on his crew in the first place, and despite all of that he had still been horrible to the man, taking advantage of everything he had done for the people they both loved. So caught up in his desire to protect his crew, Hongjoong hadn’t considered that perhaps his and Seonghwa’s priorities were one and the same - that if they had worked together instead of fighting against one another, all of this pain could have been avoided. 

Now as he stared at the wreckage of his own choices, he felt suffocated by the guilt, for he knew that none of his crew would be able to come back from this if Seonghwa didn’t survive. He needed to live, because Hongjoong had intended to apologize as soon as they were safely sailing - his eyes welled with tears as he realized that Seonghwa could very well die without ever knowing how Hongjoong truly felt. 

He could die while thinking that Hongjoong still hated him. 

Vision blurring with tears, he could hardly see as Yeosang stepped forward once it was clear that Hongjoong didn’t have the answers they so desperately needed, crouching down in front of Seonghwa as the doctor’s eyes began to flutter. “Seonghwa, you need to stay awake, okay? I can tell from the amount of blood that the bullet didn’t hit any major blood vessels, and I can try to remove the bullet and stitch you up if you can stay awake and walk me through it,” Yeosang pleaded, his voice trembling slightly, and Hongjoong froze at what he was implying.

“Please, I need your help.” His final words were no more than a whimper, and Hongjoong couldn’t breathe, his lungs aching for air as he realized what was going to happen. Seonghwa, weak as he was, would need to endure the pain of surgery with no barriers in order to save his own life. Such a feat shouldn’t have been possible at all, but if anyone could fight their way through something so awful, it would be Seonghwa. 

Even before the man gave his answer, Hongjoong already knew what it would be, for he understood in his heart exactly what kind of person Seonghwa was after all of the pain he had endured in his life. He didn’t give up, not even when his blood coated the deck, his eyes unfocused and glassy with pain, his body twitching against his will. Despite all of those things, Seonghwa was ten times the man that Hongjoong would ever be, and he knew that one bullet would never take him down so easily.

He was going to fight, and he was going to come out of this alive. After all, Seonghwa was nothing if not stubborn. 

Chapter Text

The night seemed to stagnate as Seonghwa’s blood bathed the deck, black in the darkness of the night and glistening under the dull glow of the moon. Hongjoong didn’t want to believe it was blood at all, but he couldn’t deny it when rivulets were still dripping free of Seonghwa’s clothing, the wound still leaking without pause. They needed to get him to the infirmary now, or else he would die of blood loss first. Despite his lack of medical knowledge, even Hongjoong knew that no one could continue to stay awake in this state for much longer. 

Seonghwa pressed his lips together as if he were gathering his resolve to speak, no longer their usual rosy pink but instead a deep shade of purple that sent shivers down Hongjoong’s spine. “Help me stand,” he said weakly, jaw trembling and words garbled, but that was enough to shock Hongjoong back into movement. 

He was the one responsible for this, and he would do whatever needed to be done in order to keep this newest member of his crew alive. Yeosang shifted to Seonghwa’s side, slinging a limp arm over his shoulder for support, and Hongjoong did the same before anyone else could. Close enough to feel the blood begin to seep through his own clothes, he reached for Seonghwa’s arm, trying not to focus on how cold and clammy the skin felt as he positioned the arm over his shoulders. 

Mind still reeling, Hongjoong’s stomach churned as he noticed how unfocused Seonghwa’s eyes had become, his cheeks wet with tears that he probably didn’t even realize were still falling. He looked so innocent, and so young, and Hongjoong felt his protective instinct surge, only it was too late for it to matter. He had failed to protect Seonghwa when he had needed it most, and now the man was completely limp in his hold, his head lolling dangerously to the side as he tried to focus on Hongjoong’s face. 

A dazed smile clung to his lips, marred by the pain that gathered in the tight corners of his mouth, the space between his brows. The arm slung over Hongjoong’s shoulders raised momentarily, just enough for sticky fingers to pinch his cheek, slipping against the skin of his face and leaving a streak of blood behind. Hongjoong hated that this was the first time Seonghwa had ever genuinely smiled at him, that it had taken a bullet for them to finally leave the animosity behind. If given the chance, he would have gone back and taken care of Seonghwa from the beginning like he deserved, would have rescued him from his old ship and never looked back. 

The thought alone made the lump in his throat expand, his sinuses burning painfully as he tried to blink the tears away. “Don’t look so sad,” Seonghwa murmured, but his voice was thready and pained and it only made Hongjoong’s heart crumple further. “I’ll be okay, d-don’t worry.” But even if he did survive, he would still need to endure terrible pain tonight, and that was of little comfort to any of them. 

Yeosang adjusted his grip on Seonghwa, gently using his fingers to point the man’s face in his direction, his eyes betraying the extent of his panic as his fingers trembled. “Seonghwa, we’ll head to the infirmary now, alright?” He informed, worry clear in his voice despite his best attempts to keep it calm for Seonghwa’s benefit, though the doctor didn’t seem to know any better. He was delirious with pain and blood loss, and Hongjoong wondered if he even fully realized what was happening anymore. 

He met Yeosang’s eyes over Seonghwa’s head, both of their expressions grave as they nodded at one another, preparing to move the injured man between them as quickly and painlessly as possible. As soon as they took their first step forward, Seonghwa’s body seized up in pain, his feet dragging against the deck and leaving twin trails of blood behind as they headed for the cabin door, a short cry escaping his lips despite how he tried to keep his mouth closed. 

Hot tears rolled freely down Seonghwa’s cheeks, agony clear in every whimper that escaped with each step they took, and Hongjoong tried his best to ignore the cries of the rest of the crew in order to keep his own failing composure intact. Every sound that escaped Seonghwa’s lips ripped another piece of his heart away, for he looked so scared, his pupils blown wide and his teeth gritted against the cries that betrayed how painful this truly was for him. 

All this time, Seonghwa had silently withstood all of the pain Hongjoong had forced him to endure, the defiance in his eyes never faltering once. So to see him so openly terrified now, so consumed by pain that he couldn’t even control his limbs, broke Hongjoong’s heart so completely that he could hardly breathe. He couldn’t be left to drown alone in this pain - Hongjoong needed to do something to bring back the light in his eyes that he used to hate but had come to love. He hadn’t even known how much he loved it until it had been suddenly snuffed out, and his chest ached as he suddenly understood just how much he had come to care for this man, the force of the realization taking his breath away. 

He can’t die. I don’t want to live without him. Seonghwa had become a part of his crew, a force that raged against him near constantly, but Hongjoong had learned to love how it felt to stand in Seonghwa’s storm. He would let Seonghwa rage at him for the rest of their lives, if it meant that he would survive that long, that they would remain in each other’s company. 

“Don’t focus on them, okay? Just focus on keeping the pain at bay,” he soothed, hoping his words conveyed his attempt at comfort as he glanced over at Seonghwa. “You’ve been through hell - fight it for a little longer.” His voice was shaky, but Seonghwa stared back at him with desperation clear in his eyes, as if Hongjoong had just offered him a lifeline. They were nearly halfway across the deck now, and Hongjoong and Yeosang were dragging Seonghwa’s limp weight, though he still wasn’t as heavy as he should have been due to his time in the cell. 

“If I didn’t - didn’t know b-better, I would think you were… w-worried about me,” Seonghwa tried to tease, although his voice was all wrong, harsh gasps for air breaking through the words as his face screwed up in pain. He seemed to be trying his best to remain conscious, forcing himself to speak in order to keep his mind from shutting down completely, and Hongjoong did his best to play along even as a tear finally rolled down his cheek. 

“Even with a bullet in you, you’re still giving me a hard time,” he responded, bittersweet and tremulous, though he was at least grateful that Seonghwa could still speak to him at all. If he could still cling to his sarcasm, that meant he was still fighting, that he hadn’t lost himself completely to the bullet lodged in his abdomen. Hongjoong didn’t care about exposing his vulnerabilities anymore, for he couldn’t stand the thought of this being their last conversation, of Seonghwa dying while still thinking that Hongjoong didn’t care. 

He cared so much more than he had even realized himself, and he opened his mouth again, desperate for Seonghwa to understand that. “Of course I’m worried,” he admitted, his voice gentle and completely raw, thick with the emotion that had lodged in his throat. I’m so sorry. He barely restrained himself from saying that last part, for it would only confuse Seonghwa more if he started laying down his burden now. Hongjoong had to believe that he would be able to apologize for everything once Seonghwa was okay again.

Seonghwa had looked away from him now, staring down at his legs as if willing them to work, though they were mostly useless as they dragged along, the blood left on the deck marking their path to the cabin. “You c-can’t get rid of me… m-me this easily,” he slurred, but despite the terrible state of his speech Hongjoong still sighed in relief, for at least Seonghwa intended to fight. He had known that he would, and he felt a shred of pride amidst all of the fear and guilt, for Seonghwa was perhaps the strongest person he had ever known.

“Good. I don’t care if you continue to give me a hard time for the rest of your life, I forbid you to die like this. They need you - we all do.” I need you. Hongjoong spoke without animosity, opening up his heart to the man bleeding all over his deck, for he refused to be misunderstood this time. Not when Seonghwa was dying - he deserved to know the truth about how treasured he was, because that could be the thing that made him fight for a little longer. He didn’t care if Seonghwa remembered this conversation or not, for being honest had never mattered more to him than it did then.

“The r-rest of my life, huh?” Seonghwa pondered, and finally they were just a few steps away from the cabin door, their conversation distracting him from the pain. “Sounds like you’re in - in love with me or s-something.” An unsteady grin played over his trembling lips, for despite his pain he was still trying his best to lighten the heaviness, and Hongjoong forced himself to scoff in return even as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. 

Hongjoong had never been in love, but only then did he understand that his feelings towards Seonghwa weren’t the same as the ones he felt for the rest of his crew. His heart stuttered whenever he saw the man in question, and even before things between them had changed, he had still always been drawn to Seonghwa’s beauty, the way he spoke and how he laughed and the gentle ease with which he showed his affection to the others. 

Though he didn’t understand the full extent of Seognhwa’s past, he knew that the two of them had suffered similar traumatic experiences in their lives, only they had been changed in different ways because of it. Where Hongjoong had hardened himself, refusing to let anyone in, Seonghwa had done the opposite. He had been hurt time and time again, and yet he still wore his heart on his sleeve, still able to see the good in people despite all of the evil. 

Hongjoong was a roughly stitched wound, closed off as his pain festered inside, fragments slipping through when a stitch ripped until he could retreat and patch himself up once more. The wound never fully healed despite being closed, for he had never been able to dislodge the memories that cut like a knife, his self hatred and guilt tearing him up from the inside. 

Seonghwa was a bleeding heart, baring his pain to the world as he allowed it to be set free, for he would rather choose to love openly despite the risk than to not love at all. He wore his scars like armor, unafraid to show his most damaged parts to the world, because he believed himself worthy of love anyway. 

Ever since his childhood, Hongjoong had yearned to meet someone like that, to learn how to accept the love that he wanted but felt he didn’t deserve. And Seonghwa was that person, the wounded healer who cared so deeply for others in spite of his own pain, his love gentle and kind and more beautiful than any constellation that graced the skies. 

Though Hongjoong’s heart had been blackened and shriveled since birth, whenever Seonghwa was around it seemed to inflate just a little bit more, like this man held the power to breathe life into his very soul. Both were wounded, and yet one had turned to harm while the other had embraced what it meant to heal, but perhaps they would slot together perfectly if given the opportunity. Perhaps Hongjoong’s ruthlessness could be tamed, his heart healed, and maybe he could offer Seonghwa the kind of peace that only emerged between two people who understood each other’s pain. 

Maybe he could learn how to return the love that Seonghwa seemed so willing to give. 

They reached the door at last, momentarily coming to a pause as Jongho hurried forward to pull it open, holding it in place for the rest of them. Though their shared words had sufficed to distract Seonghwa from the relentlessly bleeding wound in his stomach for a short while, the pain seemed to return full force as they fit through the narrow opening of the doorway. A strangled scream echoed into the empty cabin, muffled by clenched teeth as Seonghwa hunched around his wound like he was trying to protect himself.

“I’m so sorry Seonghwa, we’re almost there,” Yeosang reassured, though his tone was far from its usual collected monotone, and Hongjoong pressed his lips together hard to keep his own emotions at bay. They continued to make their way down the hall, a trail of blood following them deeper inside along with the rest of the crew. 

The door to the infirmary appeared before them after what felt like an eternity, and Hongjoong swallowed thickly, forcing away the fear that rose when he considered what would happen within that room in a matter of minutes. To be awake for a bullet removal and to have to stay coherent enough to direct Yeosang… he couldn’t even fathom what kind of mental strength that would entail, and his skin felt hot and cold at the same time, his collar too tight while goosebumps raised along his arms. 

Jongho again stepped in front of them to open the door, and Hongjoong clenched his jaw as himself and Yeosang prepared to bring Seonghwa over the threshold, the gap narrow just as the entrance to the cabin had been. Though Seonghwa managed to keep from crying out, he still clamped his lips together to suppress the sounds, pained whimpers barely audible as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry,” Hongjoong said frantically, repeating the words several times as they made their way into the room, forcing himself to keep bringing Seonghwa forward despite his clear distress. Memories threatened to rear their ugly heads, recollections of all the times he had hurt people who had never deserved it, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep them away. He needed to be fully present in order to help Seonghwa, and he refused to lose himself to the things he had done in the past. This was the present, and this was a chance to change his ways, to heal instead of hurt. Just as Seonghwa would have done. 

They headed straight for the nearest cot, and finally the three of them were able to come to a stop, Seonghwa’s breath whistling in and out of his throat as he heaved for air. He hung almost entirely limp between Hongjoong and Yeosang, though he still managed to crane his neck backwards, looking towards the doorway. 

Jongho had come inside with them, but the other four still stood out in the hall, watching with open desperation as the man they had come to love now couldn’t be guaranteed another day. Hongjoong couldn’t stand to look at them for fear of losing his own composure, so instead he watched Seonghwa, his heart aching as he fully noticed under the infirmary lighting how drained he looked. 

His face had taken on a translucent pallor, the veins at his temples like purple snakes under the skin, and shadows of a similar color seemed to swallow his eyes completely. He had never looked this awful even during his time in the cell, for his lips were now blue and trembling, and his eyes struggled to focus on anything as he squinted towards the doorway. Just a few weeks ago, Hongjoong would have relished in seeing his enemy in such a state, but now he just felt like crying. 

Seonghwa was supposed to be strong and composed, more beautiful than the stars and the sea, and yet now he seemed to be fighting a losing battle, unable to even hold his own head up. His eyes were shining, the tears lining his lashes like a pent up sea, the tide releasing every time he blinked. Even in his current state, his love for the crew was still so apparent, settling into every line and groove of his expression. 

Slowly he shut his eyes, and panic crashed over Hongjoong, tensing his arms to shake Seonghwa awake. However, the man reopened them right after with a massive change to his expression, his lips set in a firm line and his eyes narrowing, jaw tense as he locked away his pain. Hongjoong knew exactly what he had done, for he had done it himself for his entire life, though it pained him to see Seonghwa in this position now. 

He should have been able to feel vulnerable, to rely on the rest to keep him safe and comfort him in the face of his fear, but he couldn’t. He needed to be his own savior, because otherwise he would never survive to see the sun rise. 

“San, please come inside. You and Jongho will need to lift me onto the cot.” Hongjoong wanted to protest, for the last thing he wanted to do was step away while his every nerve was screaming at him to protect Seonghwa, but he knew it was the smart choice. Jongho and San would easily be able to lift Seonghwa and keep him stable, the strongest of their number. 

Though his heart begged him not to, Hongjoong stepped away when the two boys approached, standing to the side even as his fingers itched to assist, to do something other than just stand idly by. Seonghwa walked them through the best way to lift him without shifting the bullet, though Hongjoong barely listened as his blood pounded against his skull, eyes trained on the three of them as Jongho took Seonghwa’s upper half, San crouching to support his lower body. 

As soon as they began to lift, Seonghwa screamed in pain, his body tensing as he was raised from the floor and towards the cot. Jongho and San moved extremely slowly in order to minimize the damage, but Hongjoong wanted to yell at them to just put Seonghwa down quickly, unable to bear the sounds of his cries. He had heard so many similar screams in his life, the majority of them coming from his own lips, but something about hearing Seonghwa scream unrestrained after keeping himself collected for so long was worse. 

Both San and Jongho appeared stricken, eyes wide and full of tears as they obeyed Seonghwa’s earlier orders, the sounds of their crying completely obscured by the screams. Eventually, they were able to set Seonghwa down flat on his back against the cot, both of them stepping away instantly, staring down at their own hands like they couldn’t believe the pain they had just caused. 

Hongjoong dashed forward once Seonghwa was safe on the cot, grabbing a pillow from the next one over and stopping by the man’s shoulders, though what he saw made him pause. Though he wasn’t screaming anymore, Seonghwa clearly wasn’t aware either, his eyes completely unfocused and expression slack, and for a split second Hongjoong thought he was dead. Nausea gripped at his throat, the back of his tongue bitter, head spinning until he registered the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. 

Not dead, just consumed by agony, though that wasn’t much of an improvement. Hongjoong bit his lower lip as he reached out a hand to gently cradle the back of Seonghwa’s head, the softness of his hair bittersweet now that he was finally able to touch it under much different circumstances than he would have liked. He held Seonghwa’s head like it was about to shatter, sliding the pillow behind his neck before laying him back down so that he would be able to see his wound and direct Yeosang. 

He still chose to linger by Seonghwa’s side after that, and after a few more seconds he seemed to regain awareness, blinking aggressively as if clearing his vision. “San, come here,” he said weakly, and Hongjoong could tell that this was important to him, his eyes set on the lookout as he approached and grasped Seonghwa’s hand tightly inside of his own. “Take Wooyoung away. Somewhere he won’t be able to hear.” Dread seemed to fill the air at his request, all of them realizing at the same time how Seonghwa’s cries would reach every corner of this ship, that there would be no escaping the sounds of his pain.

“I will,” San said firmly, taking the words seriously. Seonghwa smiled faintly at the boy, his lips wavering as they pulled upwards, face wan and resigned to his fate.

“And Sannie, if I don’t make it, keep him safe. Please.” His last plea was no louder than a whisper, and Hongjoong had to turn away, pressing a trembling hand over his lips as he blinked up at the ceiling, trying and failing to keep his eyes from filling with the sting of tears.

“I will,” San repeated, and Hongjoong could hear the way his voice trembled, betraying how terrified he truly was. “Please be okay, Seonghwa.” His final plea was but a whisper, and Hongjoong echoed it in his mind, inhaling a heavy breath and turning back around as San pulled his hand back.

Seonghwa had gently cradled San’s cheek with a skeletal hand, wiping his tears before rescinding the touch, his smile bittersweet and strained. “Go, now. I will see you again,” he spoke, voice brittle with emotion. San nodded shakily, backing up but still unable to turn away as he approached the door, Wooyoung’s sobs filling the hallway. 

Eyes falling closed, Seonghwa continued to speak, weariness weighing on his words. “You all need to leave, give Yeosang space to work without distractions.” He reopened his eyes, and Hongjoong watched as they fell onto the youngest. “Jongho, you may stay. Someone will need to hold me down when he removes the bullet.”

Hongjoong froze at the implications of his words, though Jongho nodded despite his clear reluctance, stepping closer to the cot as the rest of them began to flood from the room. The thought of staying and witnessing Seonghwa’s pain was nauseating, but so was the thought of leaving him here and imagining all of the worst case scenarios until Yeosang or Jongho emerged with news. He didn’t want to leave, his heart itching to stay and provide the comfort that Seonghwa would need, but he knew that he was the last person who deserved to be able to do that. 

Seonghwa would never want him to stay, and that finally got him moving, trailing after the others and closing the door to the infirmary once they were all out in the hall. Reality seemed to sink down upon all of them once the door shut, an air of finality settling over the group as they realized that those last few minutes in the infirmary with Seonghwa could turn out to be the last time they saw him alive. Hongjoong didn’t want to entertain such thoughts, but it was hard not to when they were all in various states of disrepair, no pair of eyes left dry. 

Wooyoung was by far in the worst shape, for he had crumbled to the floor, his entire body shaking violently as he sobbed into his hands. He seemed unable to register anything aside from the imminence of Seonghwa’s pain, and he didn’t even react when San crouched down beside him, face shiny with tears as he tried to obey Seonghwa’s wishes. 

“Wooyoungie,” he urged, voice soft but incredibly tense as he shook Wooyoung’s shoulder gently, as if he were afraid of breaking his already fragile partner. “Please, we - we need to go… you can’t stay here…” Hongjoong could tell that he didn't know what to say, for Wooyoung hadn’t reacted at all, giving no indication that he had even heard San speak at all. 

With a sigh, Hongjoong stepped closer to Wooyoung’s prone form, throat tight as he noticed how the boy seemed to struggle for air, chest hitching in a rapid and uneven manner. His gasps for breath in between his cries seemed to fill the hallway, and Hongjoong knelt down beside him, placing a soft hand on one of Wooyoung’s knees, for he had pulled his legs to his chest to form a tight ball. He looked so small like this, and Hongjoong had to swallow down his own emotion, choosing to grasp for his urgency instead. Wooyoung couldn’t be here when Seonghwa started screaming - he would never be able to get over that. It would haunt him like the death of his mother, and this time Hongjoong could try to prevent his pain before it got to that point. 

“Hey,” he murmured, using his other hand to brush over Wooyoung’s cheek, the skin bright red and soaked with tears. “You’re okay - look at me. Let me help you.” He gently eased a finger under Wooyoung’s chin, and the boy peeled his hands away from his face a moment later. His lips quivered as he struggled to breathe, phlegm rattling in his throat, and when Hongjoong met his eyes they were bloodshot and rimmed with red. 

“Oh, Wooyoung,” he whispered, for it was painful to see him like this when he was normally so full of life. “Come here.” He started to open his arms, and Wooyoung threw himself into the embrace before Hongjoong could even complete the movement, so desperate for comfort from his captain. Hongjoong couldn’t tell him that everything would be okay, for he refused to lie simply to make him feel better - none of them could possibly know what the outcome of this night would bring. So instead he just held Wooyoung tight, guiding his head to press into his neck just as he had watched Seonghwa do so many times. 

Taking a deep breath of his own, Hongjoong let the touch bring him strength, for he knew that he would need it to maintain his composure and support the others. “Listen to me,” he urged softly, and Wooyoung nodded against his neck with a slight delay. Hongjoong could feel how his back jolted with every gasp, and he rubbed his palm over the knobs of the spine, unpracticed in affection and hoping the gesture would help to calm Wooyoung down. “You need to go with San, because Seonghwa wouldn’t want you to stay here. He wants you to go somewhere you won’t be able to - to hear.” Hongjoong faltered, but he forced himself to keep going even as Wooyoung’s cries grew increasingly hysterical. 

“You can go to my quarters, okay?” I know I always kick you out of my bed, but you can go lay under my blankets for as long as you want, and San will go with you.” He raised his head to make brief eye contact with San, who nodded grimly, the tip of his nose red and shiny. 

It seemed to take Wooyoung a few seconds to process the words, but then he was pulling back, shaking his head with enough force to strain his neck as a wet sob burst free of his trembling lips. “No!” He cried, and he seemed to be trying to say something else, voice stuttering repeatedly until he managed to gain enough breath. “I w-want to go to the cell,” he forced out, and Hongjoong froze in surprise, for he never would have expected the boy to choose to go down there, especially without Seonghwa’s company. 

Amidst his loss for words, San spoke instead, his voice gentle with understanding. “We can go down there,” he appeased, eyes soft and so full of worry that Hongjoong’s heart threatened to burst. “He used to hate it, yes, but he associates it with those nights he slept down there with Seonghwa now. Hopefully it will be comforting.” He explained this for the benefit of the rest of them, and Hongjoong contemplated the change of heart in wonder. 

Wooyoung had always avoided so much as looking at the door to the cell room, associating it with the battles he had spent behind those bars, and yet Seonghwa had changed that completely. For Wooyoung’s most feared area on the ship to become the place he wanted to go for comfort all because of Seonghwa’s influence was remarkable, and Hongjoong was again reminded of how Seonghwa had changed their lives for the better. 

He still remembered what Mingi had said on the deck after a massive argument between Hongjoong and Wooyoung. “I had spent so much time thinking about how he wouldn't belong, that I didn’t consider the space he might be able to fill. Maybe we don’t know it yet, but he might make our lives out here better.” Though he had scoffed at the idea back then, Hongjoong could deny it no longer, and he found that he didn't even want to. 

“Okay,” he agreed, getting to his feet and leaning down to help Wooyoung up as well, San’s arms instantly coming around the boy for support. “Go down there and stay until I tell you it’s okay to come back up. Take care of each other.” He wanted to cry at the sight of them both, shoulders slumped and faces wet, but he couldn’t. For Seonghwa’s sake, he would remain strong for the rest of them. 

Hongjoong wouldn’t allow himself to cry, not when he had no right to be as upset as they were. He was responsible for all of this, and the guilt was his to bear alone. 

San ushered Wooyoung down the hall after that, leaving just Hongjoong, Yunho, and Mingi still outside the door. He would have liked for them to leave as well, but he could tell from their expressions alone that neither of them was willing, and that was a battle he wasn’t going to fight. The two of them had sat against the wall opposite the door, and Hongjoong did the same, sliding down with his back to the door itself. 

No sound from inside the infirmary would escape him like this, and that was exactly what he wanted. To hear every whimper and cry that left the lips of the man he had wounded again and again, to feel just a shred of the pain that he had caused. The cowardly part of him wanted to go break down in his quarters, but he was done with that. Even if he shattered, he would do it right here, listening to every scream as it pierced his heart. 

None of them said anything to one another as they sat in tense silence, and Hongjoong could hear rummaging and voices from behind the door, none of the words audible. He tried to brace himself for what was to come, but nothing could have prepared him for the scream that pierced through the walls, raw with agony so intense that Hongjoong sat up ramrod straight as his heart stuttered. 

It seemed to go on forever, and Hongjoong understood then that there would be no hiding from Seonghwa’s pain anywhere on this ship. He was convinced that even the stars and moon could hear the cries, that Seonghwa’s agony would contribute to the storm that had begun to rage. Hongjoong had heard many screams in his life, of fear and pain and grief, and yet this was the worst of them all, ringing in his ears even as the moment finally passed, echoing through the chambers of his brain. 

Even the sudden silence could bring him no comfort, however, for he wondered if the pain had ceased for the moment, or if Seonghwa had fallen unconscious, unable to give the instruction that Yeosang and Jongho needed. Fear seized his entire body at the thought, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, hating how minor the sting felt in comparison to the pain he knew Seonghwa was feeling. 

Hongjoong should have been the one in there with a bullet lodged deep in his stomach, and though he wouldn’t blame Seonghwa if he decided to just leave him to suffer and die in that situation, he knew the man would have healed him anyway. He was that morally good, and Hongjoong simultaneously wanted to know him like the others did while also knowing that he didn’t deserve to. 

Even if Seonghwa did survive long enough for him to apologize, that didn’t mean that it would be accepted. And truthfully, Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa shouldn’t be forgiving, not after all of the pain he had been dealt by Hongjoong’s hand without so much as a glimmer of remorse. Hongjoong was sick and twisted down to his soul, while Seonghwa was wise and gracious, and that divide had never seemed more wide than it did now. 

Hongjoong had never been one to believe in a higher power, because no god would have subjected him to such a life of suffering, but now he found himself silently praying to anyone that would listen. Praying that Seonghwa would live, that he would heal, that he wouldn’t leave them all behind. That he would have the chance to apologize, even with forgiveness so unlikely. 

Yunho and Mingi had both been crying since Seonghwa’s initial collapse on the deck, but Mingi was entirely hysterical now, leaning into Yunho as he sobbed louder than Hongjoong had ever heard from him, and despite his size he had never looked so small. Normally calm as Hongjoong’s first mate, Yunho seemed to be floating adrift within his own panic, eyes frantic as he stared at Hongjoong, clearly just moments away from a breakdown himself. 

Heart aching, Hongjoong wracked his mind for a solution, desperate to figure something out before Seonghwa started screaming again. Nowhere on the ship could provide solace from the sounds of his agony, but with the storm raging outside, he offered up the only escape he could think of. “Bring him to the deck,” he croaked, surprised at the pain in his own voice. “Maybe with the storm… maybe you won’t be able to hear him.”

A futile hope, for sounds traveled to the deck fairly easily, but Yunho nodded anyway. He seemed to latch onto the suggestion, taking it as an order and pulling Mingi to his feet, supporting the mechanic’s weight as he lingered for just a moment longer. “Hongjoong, it’s not your fault,” he murmured, voice breaking. “Please, don’t let your brain tell you otherwise. You never could have known this would happen.” 

Hongjoong shook his head, looking down at his boots instead, unable to face his first mate when he couldn’t believe a word he had just said. “I have hurt a lot of people in my life,” he admitted, though this came as a shock to no one. “But he deserved it least of all. I have a lot of things to hate myself for, and this is just another to add to the pile. I’ll be fine - worry about Mingi, and take care of yourself, too.” His voice had fallen to a whisper, and although a fresh tear spilled over Yunho’s lashes, he merely nodded and coaxed Mingi down the hall. 

Just as the door to the deck closed, the screams started up again, and it took every ounce of resolve Hongjoong possessed not to cover his ears. They weren’t the same this time - rather than outright screaming, Seonghwa seemed to be grunting through something as he tried to rein in his volume, as if someone had shoved a piece of cloth into his mouth. Hearing him still trying to hold back his pain, Hongjoong’s heart broke, for he knew that even in this situation Seonghwa was still putting everyone else before himself. 

He didn’t want Wooyoung and the others to have to listen to his screams, so he was wasting his energy on holding them back, and that knowledge only made it hurt worse when he lost the battle completely and began to wail. Yeosang had to be removing the bullet - Hongjoong didn’t know what else could be causing such intense pain for this long, but the cries didn’t even sound human. He could practically hear Seonghwa’s vocal cords tearing under the strain, the screams ripping him apart from the inside out, and Hongjoong would have given anything to swap places. 

To be fully conscious as Yeosang probed for the bullet was a special kind of torture, and as the screams rattled the door, Hongjoong’s head fell into his hands. No one was left to see him cry, but he wouldn’t have been able to keep his wavering composure intact even if he wasn’t alone. Seonghwa’s pain pierced straight to his soul, because he knew how it felt to exist in seemingly endless agony. 

He had felt the pain of bullets before, and had been given no means of relief as rough fingers dug around in his flesh to find the slug and pull it free. His own father had shot him several times in his youth, and if Hongjoong ever gave into the pain and fell unconscious, he would be met by a new bullet entering his skin once he woke up. But to be submerged in that kind of delirious agony and still be able to give medical direction… that required mental strength that Hongjoong had never possessed, and he wished so badly that he had listened to Seonghwa about the raid so that the man would never have had to find that strength inside of himself. 

Or maybe he already had, long ago. Maybe he knew how to treat wounds because he had taken care of so many of his own. Despite the long sleeves and pants they all wore, Hongjoong had seen the scars on Seonghwa’s skin when his sleeve was accidentally pushed up, or he raised his arms to reveal a small sliver of his abdomen. He was sure that Seonghwa remembered each and every one, for Hongjoong knew he could never forget any of his own, even with how many there were. His father had never remembered all of the wounds he had inflicted, but such was the nature of abuse. 

The blade forgets, but the skin always remembers. 

As Seonghwa’s cries continued with seemingly no end, Hongjoong could only picture all of the ways it could be going wrong. What if he lost too much blood, or the bullet had hit something important, an organ he needed to survive? What if he went through all of this pain just to die anyway? 

The thought was so staggering that Hongjoong choked on a sob, covering his mouth with cold fingers as he squeezed his eyes shut. He had done so many terrible things in his life, and he had never forgiven himself for any of them, but he knew that if Seonghwa were to die, this would be the one to finally bring him down. His self loathing gripped his throat like a vice, and he tasted bitter bile on his tongue as he cried, unable to even hear himself over the sounds coming from the infirmary. 

When Seonghwa did eventually begin to quiet down, Hongjoong’s ears rang in the sudden silence, and he hoped that maybe that had been the worst of it. He opened his eyes, his entire face hot and slick with tears, holding his breath as the seconds ticked by slower than the onset of the winter chill. 

Hongjoong startled when screams again exploded from the infirmary, banging against the door as his eyes shut once more, his jaw clenched hard enough to feel the strain in his teeth. However, something had changed this time - the screams were wet and guttural, raspier than they had been at the start due to the abuse Seonghwa’s throat had endured. His pain was so visceral that Hongjoong threaded his fingers through his hair and yanked, ignoring the strands that came free.

This time, Hongjoong could make out words interspersed within Seonghwa’s wailing, and it took him a moment to understand that he was begging, pleading for the pain to stop. Seonghwa had always seemed so invincible, and nausea surged up Hongjoong’s throat as he listened, sobbing so hard that he gagged and coughed, tendrils of spit and bile hanging from his mouth. 

He was consumed by disgust at himself as he recalled that these were the kinds of words he had wanted to draw out of Seonghwa in the beginning. He had wanted to hurt him until he broke and gave up the plan of a crew he had never been a part of, and yet now that he was finally hearing it, he would have done anything to make it stop. 

“Please stop,” Seonghwa cried, though his voice was muffled by the cloth, and Hongjoong could hear how the cot strained, as if he were trying to get away. “It h-hurts - it hurts, it hurts, please - p-please, I can’t. I c-can’t do it, I can’t.” The pleas streamed from his mouth, broken by sounds of pain, and Hongjoong could only hope that the others couldn’t make out what he was saying. 

Hongjoong clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip, drawing blood instantly and hardly registering when it dripped down his chin, the wound deeper than intended. Hearing Seonghwa beg completely shattered his heart, and he clutched at his chest, clawing his nails into the skin as he tried to reach in and rip the organ out altogether. 

He wasn’t unfamiliar with such pleading, for he had killed many innocents under his father’s thumb as they begged for their lives, and had begged plenty of times himself, but this was different. Hongjoong was supposed to protect his crew, and he had never allowed any of them to feel pain to this degree. He had always been able to stop it, or they had fallen unconscious, or something - but all Seonghwa could do was scream about how much it hurt, sending knives straight through Hongjoong’s heart. 

His chest had never ached like this before, and it only worsened when the screams eventually broke, turning into heart wrenching sobs. Tears spilled over Hongjoong’s cheeks like an unceasing sea, his entire body trembling from the clear pain and exhaustion and hurt held within the sounds. This was the price of allowing himself to feel after a childhood of repressing it all, for Hongjoong had no idea how to handle the anguish in his heart. If he had never learned to love, then his heart wouldn’t be able to hurt like this, and he wished just for a moment that he could make it all stop. 

For just a moment, he wished to feel nothing at all, to go back to the machine he had been raised to become. When faced with Seonghwa’s pain, he wanted to cower, to compartmentalize it all until there was nothing left. He wept into his hands, still tasting blood as he was forced to face what he had done, all of the guilt and regret too much for him to handle. 

He wanted it all to disappear. 

But then he heard voices, memories hazy in the mist of his mind, just wisps of people and feelings that reminded him why he had chosen to open his heart. His crew, telling him they loved him. Wooyoung, always putting extra broccoli on his plate even when they weren’t speaking to one another. Jongho, checking on him when no one else did. 

Seonghwa, helping him over the rails earlier that evening, pulling him to safety despite the pain he must have felt from the bullet lodged above his hip. 

Being able to stand in their light had changed his life, for he had only learned what it meant to live once they were by his side. The entire world would be worthless to him without them - they were the reason he had turned away from hatred and learned to love from the only people who had ever been gentle with him. 

They needed him, and he couldn’t lose himself now. He wiped at his eyes and the blood sticking to his chin, listening as Seonghwa’s sobs died down, soft voices floating through the door. Straining to hear, he managed to make out just enough to put his heart at ease, the tension leaving his shoulders as he slumped against the door.

“-couldn’t have done anything without you, Seonghwa. You saved yourself.” The voice belonged to Yeosang, and Hongjoong knew then that Seonghwa was okay. The worst was over, and relief crashed over him as he got to his feet right away, heading for the cell room while simultaneously dreading what he would find there. 

He pulled open the door and swiftly descended the stairs, moving as fast as possible in order to put an end to their worry, but he paused on the bottom step, lips parting as he swallowed thickly. “Oh,” he breathed dumbly, his eyes stinging all over again as he took in the sight of the two boys behind the bars. 

They had chosen to actually go inside of the cell, and San sat back against the wall just as Seonghwa used to always do. His gaze was fixed upon Wooyoung, eyes red and collar soaked with tears, all of his weight against the wall as if he had lost the will to support himself. 

In a worse state, however, was Wooyoung. Hongjoong had known that he would take this harder than anyone else, but he still struggled for air as he looked at the boy, for he had never seen him like this. He was curled on his side on the floor, knees hugged up to his chest as he covered his ears with his hands. Something else was clutched in his right hand, but Hongjoong couldn’t tell what it was from here. 

He had expected to find Wooyoung covered in tears and snot and whatever else, but he was just staring at something on the floor, eyes hooded and unblinking. His breath still hitched every few seconds, so he must have still been crying just a short time ago, but Hongjoong shivered at the sight of him so despondent. He had never seen Wooyoung like this. 

As he stepped closer, San glanced up at him, eyes wide with panic and pain of his own. “It’s over,” Hongjoong reassured, and those two words were enough to make his face crumble, tears spilling free as he leaned forward, speaking softly to Wooyoung. “Hongjoong says it’s over, okay? You won’t have to hear him anymore.” A tear splashed from San’s eye down to Wooyoung’s cheek, but he still didn’t react, and as Hongjoong moved closer he realized how badly the boy was trembling. 

Heart sinking down to the floor, Hongjoong entered the cell through the open door on the side, dropping to his knees beside Wooyoung just as he had done earlier. “Wooyoung. Hey.” He gently shook his shoulder to get his attention, and though he did look at Hongjoong, he didn’t move his hands from his ears, staying in his position on the ground. “Can you move your hands for me? I promise there’s no more screaming, okay?” 

Wooyoung couldn’t hear him and he knew that, but he still kept his voice soothing, brushing strands of hair away from Wooyoung’s forehead gently. He knew how it felt to shut down like this, and he knew that the boy must have been terrified, completely overwhelmed by everything. All he could do was offer gentle touches, and San followed his lead, doing the same until Wooyoung finally removed his shaking hands from his ears. 

His lips wobbled now, and Hongjoong frowned softly, hating to see him like this. “It’s okay,” he soothed, and he gathered Wooyoung into his arms, hoping that this was the comfort he wanted. “The worst is over. You don’t need to hide anymore.” He repeated the assurances over and over, until finally Wooyoung shifted in his arms and returned the embrace, shaking like the sails during a storm. 

“H-he just kept s-screaming,” he whispered, and Hongjoong used one arm to hold him close, extending the other one in San’s direction. The other boy fell into his embrace as well, and the three of them sat like that for a long time, Wooyoung and San both breaking down now that they didn’t need to be strong anymore. 

Hongjoong shushed them both as they cried, running fingers through their hair and resolutely ignoring the tally marks scratched into the ground beside them. Those were what Wooyoung had been looking at, and he still clung to the thing in his right hand, which Hongjoong could now see was a scrap of dirty fabric. 

He didn’t recognize it immediately, but his stomach flipped when he did, and he struggled to swallow down the guilt that surged in response. Wooyoung had been clutching onto a scrap of Seonghwa’s old shirt that must have been left down here, and he still held it like he would never let go, not until Seonghwa’s hand could replace it. 

After a while they were finally able to wipe their tears, though both of them were still fragile, like the slightest touch would make them break. Hongjoong could tell that they weren’t ready to go back up the stairs yet, and he squeezed his arms around them softly. “You can stay down here as long as you need to. I’ll be waiting outside the infirmary - you can come find me when you’re ready.” 

They both nodded and murmured their assent, and then Hongjoong was getting to his feet, heading back up the stairs with heavier steps this time. He stopped to let Yunho and Mingi know that the worst was over as well, though they were in their own world on the deck, underneath an overhang that they must have put together to stay shielded from the rain. Hongjoong let them be, and then he found himself back in front of the infirmary door, anxiety returning to his chest as he waited for Yeosang and Jongho to emerge. 

It didn’t take long, and as soon as the door opened he was stepping forward, concern overcoming all else at the sight of them. They both looked exhausted, strain making them appear much older as they gently closed the door, and Jongho rested a hand on Yeosang’s waist for support. “He’s okay, at least for now,” Jongho started, and Yeosang nodded, his eyes heavy with emotion as he looked at Hongjoong. 

“I’m sure you heard it all, but - Hongjoong, I’ve never had to do anything like that. I mean, he was fighting us because it hurt him so bad, and then he was begging us to stop and I just-“ His voice broke off, and a tear traced a silent path down to his chin. Yeosang had always felt his emotions quietly, and he did the same now, anguish so clear on his face. “I need him to be okay, because I can’t live knowing that I did all of that for nothing.” 

Jongho pulled Yeosang into his arms fully at that, the navigator trembling as he melted into the hold, and Jongho looked at Hongjoong next. “His eyes, Hongjoong - he was in so much pain that he burst blood vessels in his eyes. They were entirely red instead of white.” He sounded horrified, speaking in a whisper as if he were afraid to say the words too loud, and Hongjoong pressed his lips together to keep out a cry of his own. 

He couldn’t even imagine how horrible it had been for them to do what they had just done, to cause pain to someone they loved so much, even if it were a matter of life or death. That didn’t change how it had affected both of them, and Hongjoong frowned, hating how worn down they looked. “I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. You did everything you could to save his life, okay? Remember that. He wouldn’t have stood a chance without the two of you.” 

Hongjoong stepped forward and rested a hand on each of their backs, rubbing gently until he felt some of the tension ease. “Go rest,” he urged gently, though he could tell it wouldn’t take much convincing - they both seemed just moments away from collapse. “I’ll stay out here and make sure everything is okay. You’ve done so well, both of you.”

They departed with twin attempts at smiles that didn’t reach their eyes, and Hongjoong was alone again in the hallway, the ship startlingly silent after all of the chaos of the last few hours. A massive part of him wanted to peek into the infirmary and make sure that Seonghwa was okay, but he believed Yeosang and Jongho, and he was through with invading the man’s privacy. He would wait out here for whenever Seonghwa woke up, but until then he would do only that, for he didn’t deserve to enter the infirmary until the man inside was coherent enough to kick him out if he wanted to. 

~

Hours turned into days which turned into nearly a week, and Hongjoong rarely stepped away from the hallway outside of the infirmary, only leaving to go to the bathroom and grab something to eat when his stomach reminded him that he was hungry. Other than that, he hadn’t left his position, originally sitting on the floor until Yunho had brought him a chair. The others were constantly coming in and out of the infirmary, and they had even gently told him that he could go inside, but he refused. 

He couldn’t let go of his guilt, and it consumed him at all hours of the day, the worry becoming a part of him as he waited in earnest for Seonghwa to wake up, unable to entertain the other option. None of them could fully ignore the possibility, of course, for it constantly lingered in the back of their minds, the fear that Seonghwa wouldn’t wake up. After all of the stress his body had been put through, and the very real chance that the bullet had hit something vital deep inside of his abdomen, he could still be fighting to survive for all they knew. 

Until the moment Seonghwa opened his eyes, none of them could be sure, and when Hongjoong did see the others they only seemed to be half alive, merely going through the motions as they tried not to suffocate beneath the dread that cloaked the ship. Every time one of them left the infirmary, Hongjoong rose to his feet with hope in his eyes, but all it took was a shake of the head to make him sit back down. 

With every passing day it became harder to hope, even as Yeosang tried to assure them that Seonghwa had been lacking a lot of sleep to begin with, and his body was likely catching up on that as well. Hongjoong knew he had a point, but it was so difficult to not think of the worst case scenario. Sometimes at night, when he drifted in and out of sleep on his chair, those thoughts got the better of him, and he wept into the silence while the rest of his crew slept. 

Or, tried to sleep, at least - most nights, at least one of them visited him in the hall, eyes sunken in grief as they sat beside him on the floor. Sometimes they talked, but sometimes they just existed in weary silence, drawing comfort from the fact that they weren’t alone. 

The uncertainty persisted for nearly a week, and Hongjoong was slumped in his chair when finally something changed, perking up as he heard sounds from behind the door. That alone wasn’t anything new, for the others talked to Seonghwa often while they sat by his bedside, crying over his unconscious form as they begged for him to come back to them. He always tuned such words out, for they weren’t meant for his ears, and he was about to do the same thing until he heard a second voice. 

His blood ran cold, and he jolted to his feet, heart pounding as he crept closer to the door, wondering if he had finally lost it and started hearing Seonghwa’s voice in his mind. A few moments passed, but then he heard the voice again, and there was no space for doubt to linger - he knew that was Seonghwa just like he knew the steady rock of the ship under his feet. “I’m awake. I’m okay,” Seonghwa said, his voice muffled by the door, but Hongjoong still crumbled to the ground right there, shaky hands rising to cover his mouth. 

He’s okay. Hongjoong clung to the words, even as he heard Wooyoung break down behind the door, for of course he had been the one inside. Everything about the two of them seemed to be influenced by fate, and Hongjoong felt a smile tug at his lips even as tears pooled in his eyes, shaking his head with a breathy laugh. Seonghwa was okay - they were all going to be okay. 

Wooyoung cried for a long time, and Hongjoong couldn’t hear most of what they said to one another afterwards over his own emotions, but that didn’t matter. Seonghwa was okay, and he would have the chance to apologize, regardless of the outcome. He would treat Seonghwa how he deserved even if his apology was rejected, and he could only hope that maybe one day, things could be different between the two of them. 

Clinging to that thought, Hongjoong slid back onto his chair, and he was just wiping at his eyes when Yeosang came down the hall, stopping in his tracks as he noticed his captain’s state, panic flitting over his face immediately as he bolted for the door. Hongjoong didn’t even have the chance to explain before the navigator had gone inside, but he could hear the relief in his voice as it carried through the door, and he smiled to himself. 

The ship was healing - Seonghwa was awake. 

But even with that confirmation, Hongjoong still lingered by the door, now dominated by nerves as he waited for an opening to talk to Seonghwa. Yeosang emerged not long after he had entered, but Wooyoung never came back out, and Hongjoong figured that he must have fallen asleep by Seonghwa’s side. He had struggled the most with sleep over the last week, and it made Hongjoong’s heart warm to know that he finally felt comfortable enough to rest. 

As their usual dinner time approached, Hongjoong had an idea, and he left the door for just long enough to grab a plate and fill it with dried meat since Wooyoung wasn’t exactly around to cook dinner. They hadn’t eaten a real meal in days, but now that Seonghwa was awake he was sure that breakfast the next morning would be a whole feast, and a smile tugged at his lips. He had missed the usual lively energy of the ship, and he could already feel the energy shifting, all of them finally letting go of their tension. 

Gripping the plate tight within his fingers, Hongjoong walked back to the infirmary, his posture stiff as he approached the door and stood in front of it for a long moment, trying to gather his courage. He hoped that Seonghwa was awake, but he didn’t hear any sounds from inside, and he shifted his feet as he attempted to shove away his nerves. For days he had waited for this opportunity - he had vowed to apologize during the battle, before all of this, and he intended to keep the promise he had made to himself. 

Taking a deep breath, Hongjoong filled his lungs with as much air as he could before twisting the doorknob and awkwardly stepping inside, eyes instantly landing upon the two bodies wedged beside one another on the cot nearest to the door. Wooyoung was fast asleep, his head resting on Seonghwa’s chest, but the man he had come here to see was wide awake and watching him with cautious eyes. 

Hongjoong shuffled his way forward until he was closer to the cot, trying and failing to speak, the words all catching in his throat as he clutched the plate in his hands. “Hi,” Seonghwa greeted suddenly, and Hongjoong nearly jumped out of his skin, for he had intended to be the one to break the silence. Still, seeing him lying there with his head propped up and eyes sparkling made Hongjoong’s heart skip a beat, and he grabbed the chair nearest to the bed, pulling it to a comfortable distance before taking a seat. 

“Hey. I brought you some food, it’s just some dried meat as our cook is clearly preoccupied,” Hongjoong gestured at Wooyoung’s sleeping form, “but I figured you would be hungry. It’s nice to see you awake.” He hoped the words came off as honest as he intended, but he had a terrible track record of doing the exact opposite, and he watched Seonghwa’s face as he braced himself for some kind of explosion. 

Nothing of that sort came, however, for Seonghwa just stared at him with furrowed brows for a moment. “Um, thanks,” he responded, and he took the plate when Hongjoong offered it, eating with the hand that wasn’t held captive by the boy beside him. He took a small bite and chewed slowly, and Hongjoong felt awkward just watching him, fidgeting in his chair until he finally decided to speak again. 

Clearing his throat, he tried to sound natural, though he had a feeling he wasn’t very successful. “So, I didn’t just come here to bring you food. I, well, had some time to think while you were asleep for so long, and I just really need to talk to you. About a lot of things.” He paused, looking at Seonghwa tentatively as he braced himself for the worst, expecting to be thrown out of the room, or yelled at, or both. 

But all Seonghwa did was nod, taking another bite of his food as he listened, and Hongjoong couldn’t find the hostility he had been expecting on the man’s face. “I just… I tend to act rashly. I’m sure you’ve noticed, as for some reason it happens way more often when you’re the one I’m talking to,” Hongjoong began, chuckling bitterly, though he didn’t find any humor in the words. “I need time, to think through my feelings and process them. That’s how I’ve always been, but ever since you arrived it’s like I can’t control myself, and all I ever do is escalate things. But now, I’ve had a week to process how I feel.” He breathed deep before adding one last thing, feeling self conscious. “About a lot of things, but mostly about you.”

Seonghwa stilled at that, but when he didn’t say anything, Hongjoong continued. “I just - I have a lot of things I want to say. I’m not great at this, you know, but I want to try. So please just listen, and you can still hate me after this, but at least listen to it first.” He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut as he finished, already anticipating how Seonghwa would mock his attempt to be vulnerable, but he forced himself to stay strong in his intent and look up from his lap. 

He wanted to apologize if Seonghwa would allow him, and after a brief pause the man nodded without a word. Maybe Hongjoong was just terrible at reading his expression, but he couldn’t even find any hostility there, and he felt slightly more confident as he continued. 

“First off, I am sorry,” he finally said, and a massive weight lifted from his shoulders, regardless of what the outcome would be. He had begun to fulfill his promise, and he hoped that Seonghwa could hear how important this was to him. Even though this wasn’t the real reason he wanted to apologize, for he was only touching the surface of his guilt, he figured it was the best place to start. “For not listening to you about the raid, for not listening to any of my crew. I don’t regret getting the supplies, but I do regret what happened to you. I’m not stupid, I could tell the others were far from eager themselves, but they didn’t want to risk an argument with me after finally having me back.” 

Hongjoong blinked, allowing his eyes to remain shut for a moment too long before opening them again, exhaling heavily. “I did a lot of ignorant things, and I made a lot of apologies in the past few days, but yours is the most important. Things could have been done differently - I could have brought the dilemma up earlier, we could have discussed it as a group, as you suggested. I talked with Yunho yesterday, and we’re working on a new method of making these decisions. And so, I wanted to apologize for how long it took for me to actually listen to your words, rather than flinging my own back at you. I also want to thank you, for risking your own life to protect them despite never wanting a part of this in the first place.” 

His words seemed to hang in the air once he paused, and he watched as Seonghwa contemplated what he had said, lips pursed in thought. How he still managed to look so elegant even in an infirmary cot was a mystery to Hongjoong, and he tried not to stare, his eyes lingering over the blankets until Seonghwa began to speak. 

“I appreciate the apology, I really do,” he said honestly, and Hongjoong struggled to keep his jaw from falling open, for Seonghwa had never spoken to him so kindly before. No bite underlied his words, and his voice was smooth as velvet, just like how it sounded when he spoke to the others. “You know, I’m not the angry, scathing person I become in your presence. I don’t enjoy the constant fighting - I rather hate it, actually. But I suppose the same can be said for me, I become so easily enraged when it’s you I’m disagreeing with. And we seem to disagree often, which doesn’t help.” 

If Hongjoong didn’t know better, he would have thought that a little bit of humor underlied Seonghwa’s last sentence, his eyes glittering as they stared at one another. Everything he had said made sense, for Hongjoong felt the same way, and his fear of rejection slowly began to fade as he nodded, not as uncomfortable as before. 

“I think perhaps one of the things that made me detest you the most was your honesty,” Hongjoong admitted, for he had the feeling that his words wouldn’t be taken the wrong way this time around. “When others would opt to not speak, to avoid confrontation, you never did that. If you see a flaw in my choices, you never fail to point it out. And as much as it pains me to admit it, you are usually right.” He allowed himself a small smile at that, though he ducked his head so Seonghwa wouldn’t see. 

“However, after mulling it over, I no longer think it is a quality I should detest. I think it’s a quality we need - a quality I need - if we are to function as a crew. You are unfailingly honest with me when no one else is, and I think I need to learn to appreciate that,” Hongjoong continued, and he meant every last word, the pressure on his chest finally beginning to ease as he said all of the things he had been thinking about for days. If only himself and Seonghwa could work together instead of against each other, he had a feeling that everything would shift. 

He was about to continue when Seonghwa spoke instead, his voice thoughtful. “You have a lot of weight on your shoulders, captaining a crew at such a young age,” he sympathized, and Hongjoong’s lips parted in surprise, for he hadn’t expected that at all. His reason for coming here was to apologize and admit his own wrongs - he hadn’t expected Seonghwa to be understanding of his position as well. “You can’t be correct all the time - hard decisions need to be made, gambles for the benefit of the crew. I suppose I didn’t take that into consideration either.” 

Seonghwa looked at him with unveiled regret, and Hongjoong knew that his own expression must have been a mirror image, both of them surprised but not in an unpleasant manner. He almost wanted to protest against Seonghwa’s words, to assure him that the only one who had made mistakes was himself, but he was too afraid of shattering the fragile peace that had somehow emerged between them. 

This was perhaps the last thing he had expected to happen as a result of his visit, and they sat in comfortable silence for a little while, processing what had already been said. Hongjoong watched the man who lay beside Wooyoung on the cot, seeing him in a different light that wasn’t entirely new, for he had been considering such things for a while now. 

He was delicate in frame, but strong no doubt. There was a lot of tension in the composed set of his shoulders, but he cared for the crew like family. He was stubborn, and self-righteous, but yet here he was admitting to his faults. Hongjoong had known that they were similar, but this was the first time he could see the positive aspect of that - they had clashed because of their similar natures, but if they could see eye to eye, they would be able to understand one another in a way that no one else could.

Perhaps they would even become friends despite their history, learning to find a balance of peace, to enjoy each other’s company rather than avoid it. Hongjoong hoped that Seonghwa could eventually come to care for him despite all of the terrible things he had done - he didn’t deserve it, but that didn’t stop his heart from yearning for it just the same. 

The thought of the pain he had inflicted upon Seonghwa brought him back to reality, and he spoke again, his voice less certain this time. “I also want to say something else,” he broached, and though Seonghwa was still eating, he glanced up at Hongjoong to indicate that he was listening. 

Hongjoong inhaled a shaky breath before continuing to speak, sliding his hands under his legs to hide how they were shaking, for this was the apology he had been thinking over in his mind, and he was so afraid to screw it up. “I am so incredibly sorry for what I did to you back then,” he started, and then the words seemed to just flow out of him unrestrained, everything he had been too afraid to say for so long. “I am sorry that I assumed things about you that weren’t true, that I was so blinded by my own desire for revenge that I didn’t open my eyes to the innocent who was before me. I am sorry that I beat you, tortured you, for information that you didn’t even know. I am sorry for throwing you in a cage like an animal, and for never listening to my crew when they tried to tell me who you really were. I think you are an incredibly strong person, but I am sorry that I made you endure even more pain than you had already experienced, more than any person should ever face.”

Much to his horror, his voice started to break midway through his apology, the first tear followed by another until he could no longer deny that he was crying. He could only hope that Seonghwa knew the tears were genuine, that the guilt had been eating him alive all this time. Now that he had started he couldn’t stop, even though his words were garbled by the lump in his throat, and even though he knew this could never be enough to make up for what he had done, he still had to try.

“Ever since that night on the deck, when you told me that none of this was ever your choice, the guilt has been eating me alive. I beat you down, nearly killed you, but you never were who I thought you were. Even if you had been, that was no way to treat another human being. I am a lot of things, I am rageful, and ignorant, and arrogant, but never in my life have I been blatantly cruel in such a way as that.

“It is clear to me that you never did anything to wrong me or my crew. You have lived a difficult life, that much I know, and yet still you opened your heart to them. They love you, and I still couldn’t see you as anything except the twisted narrative I forced on you from the start. You were never my enemy, I finally realize that. I have never regretted my own actions this intensely, and all I can say is that I am sorry. I don’t expect your forgiveness, you’d be crazy to even tolerate me, but I just had to say it. I will do anything to convince you that I am not that cruel person - I never wanted to be that.” 

I never wanted to be my father’s son. 

Hongjoong’s regret threatened to swallow him whole as he revisited all of the awful things he had done to the man before him, and though he felt relieved to have finally said the words, his dread at the response was all consuming. He had meant every single word, but that was all they could ever be - words. They couldn’t erase what he had done no matter how hard he tried, and he was resigned to any anger he would receive in return. Ever since he had seen Seonghwa’s hand tremor in this same room, all he had wanted to do was apologize, even if he had to bear this guilt forever. It would still be far less than he deserved. 

He knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness after the extent of his actions, but he just wanted Seonghwa to know that he wouldn’t have to fear that kind of pain by his captain’s hand ever again - it was as simple as that. 

“I forgive you,” Seonghwa said easily, his voice warm, and Hongjoong’s mind went entirely blank as all of his preconceived notions were wiped away by three simple words. He couldn’t process it right away, and he felt his mouth fall open, eyes going wide as he stared at Seonghwa, who just smiled without a hint of mockery. 

He had really meant it - Hongjoong was forgiven. 

Guilt had ruled his life since he had been five years old, and he couldn’t understand how Seonghwa could be so forgiving after the pain he had caused. Even just looking at him now, Hongjoong could see the thin line stretching along his throat and the thick scar on his palm, both of which he had inflicted. How could he stand to look at Hongjoong and smile? 

“Yes, you did terrible things, but you realize that and you’re sorry. That’s all I need to know to forgive you,” Seonghwa continued after giving Hongjoong a moment to process, his smile never wavering. “Holding onto anger and resentment only turns a person into a monster - I never want to be that. If I still felt anger towards all the people who have wronged me, I would not be alive today. People assume that being hurt so often makes me unforgiving and unwilling to trust, but it is rather the opposite. When you are faced with so many monsters, it is easy to tell which ones are made by choice and which ones are merely a product of their own hurt. You were the latter, and even then I never hated you.” 

He spoke like the words were easy, like he hadn’t just knocked Hongjoong’s entire world from its axis, and Hongjoong was again struck by how beautiful he was. Not just physically, but down to his very soul - how could anyone who had experienced so much hurt stand to be so forgiving? And how had he known the exact circumstances that had led to Hongjoong’s ruthlessness? 

As a young boy, Hongjoong had never been so abrasive. He had been soft, and sensitive, and sometimes when he looked at Wooyoung he wondered if that’s how he would have turned out with a normal upbringing. For a while he had tried to resist his father’s cruelty, but after being forced to kill for the first time, he had never been the same. He had been so deeply hurt that he hadn’t known how to handle it, and so he had banished the feeling entirely, because orders were easier to follow when he allowed himself to feel nothing. 

He had never wanted to be that person, and for Seonghwa to be able to see that… it made him feel like maybe a shred of that young boy still remained, hurt and scarred and terrified of the world which had never shown him a shred of mercy. Until now, for Seonghwa had every right to hold an eternal grudge, and yet he had still chosen to forgive. Hongjoong had never experienced grace like that, not since the very first pirate he had slain, who had walked him through the murder with a warm smile. 

Seonghwa reminded him of that man now, and he felt hot tears slip down his cheeks, completely overwhelmed but not in a bad way for once. He couldn’t even begin to figure out what to say in response to such a show of grace, and he grappled with the jumble of words in his mind before just speaking his mind in that moment, hoping that Seonghwa would understand how much he had just changed Hongjoong’s life. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, disbelief clear in his voice. “I can see why they all love you, you know. I was never truly able to understand it, as much as I tried, but now I do.” That wasn’t necessarily the entire truth, for Hongjoong had understood why Seonghwa was so easy to love for a while now, but he couldn’t possibly say that aloud. 

Seonghwa ducked his head at that, embarrassment turning his cheeks pink, and Hongjoong could finally admit that he looked cute without instantly beating the thought away. He seemed to flounder under the praise for a moment, and Hongjoong took mental note of that, for he did love to tease the people he cared for. 

“I heard you sat on a chair outside the entire week,” Seonghwa blurted before clamping his mouth shut, eyes going wide as he clearly exposed information that he wasn’t supposed to know, but Hongjoong just grinned. He wasn’t embarrassed about that - he would have admitted it himself, if Wooyoung hadn’t beaten him to it. 

“Well, I was realizing how terribly I had misread you all this time, and I felt terrible for being the reason you were injured, so I just couldn’t bring myself to leave,” he admitted. “Hearing you scream that night as Yeosang removed the bullet was… awful. I needed to know you were okay before I could leave, because it was my fault you were in that much pain at all.” He didn’t mean to weigh down the mood again, and he began to mentally curse himself for bringing up the pain that Seonghwa was probably trying his hardest to forget, but Seonghwa’s response cut off his tirade. 

“There’s no need to hold onto guilt. It’s over now,” he said calmly, seemingly unbothered by the mention of what had happened, and Hongjoong exhaled in relief, getting to his feet after a few more moments passed by in silence. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, but he paused as he reached for the now empty plate, a thought occurring to him now that his guilt wasn’t clouding over everything else. “Do you remember what you said to me, when we were walking across the deck to go to the infirmary that night?”

When Seonghwa shook his head to affirm that he did not remember, Hongjoong’s grin returned, a newfound lightness to his step as he headed for the door, looking down at his feet to hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. “What did I say?” Seonghwa called after him, and Hongjoong had to restrain a laugh as he cast a final look over his shoulder, feeling happier than he had in months. 

“Oh, it was nothing. I was just wondering,” he responded cheekily before vacating the room, replaying the conversation over in his mind as he lay in his bed that night, unable to keep the smile off of his lips. 

Chapter Text

Hongjoong gathered the rest of the crew out on the deck the next day as the sun began to sink down towards the horizon, sitting on a crate by the wheel until they were all present. He had asked Yunho to round them up, and they all stood before him now, their expressions much happier now that Seonghwa was awake. Most of them had yet to even see him, for he still needed a lot of sleep as he recovered from the wound, so he had a feeling they would like his idea. 

“What do you want from me?” Wooyoung deadpanned, his arms crossed over his chest with a brow raised, and Hongjoong held back a smile. Seeing Wooyoung back to his normal self was a relief after how despondent he had been while Seonghwa was unconscious, even if that meant he had to deal with the boy’s attitude. “Seonghwa is probably awake now, and I need to go bring him dinner.” 

Hongjoong clicked his tongue, softly shaking his head. “No, just hear me out - I need to tell you guys something first, about what happened yesterday after he woke up, and then I have an idea. But you need to listen to me first.” Though his heart was lighter than it had been in months, he still made sure his tone was somewhat serious, and he watched as the others registered that and softened their expressions. 

“What is it?” Jongho asked, eyes wide, and Hongjoong allowed his lips to curve just enough to indicate that it was nothing bad. He had debated all morning about telling his crew of the conversation he and Seonghwa had shared the night before, but he knew that they would notice a difference immediately, and rather than being subjected to their endless questions and teasing he figured he was better off getting this over with now. He didn’t want them asking Seonghwa about it either, for his body was under enough stress as it was without being nagged about this. 

He cleared his throat, mentally thinking back to the words they had shared, cheeks warming as a result. Thankfully the wind was still relentless following the storm that had raged on for days, and any color that flushed his skin could be easily blamed on that. “Well, I talked to Seonghwa yesterday after he woke up,” he started, and several of the boys before him perked up in surprise, their eyes widening as they listened. 

“I just - I’ve been feeling a lot of guilt about everything I did to him, well, before… and I don’t really want to talk about all of that, but I did apologize to him yesterday. For all of it - the raid, the cell, everything. I just needed to finally say it to him, even though I didn’t really expect anything to change between the two of us. We’re similar, but we’re also different, and I could only imagine him ever hating me even if he did choose to remain on this ship for a long time. He loves all of you, but I knew that I would never be included in his heart like that.” 

Hongjoong looked down at his feet, for he felt awkward being honest like this, but he knew they all deserved to hear it. After how long they had fought to bring about peace, they had a right to know that the hostility had finally come to an end. “I’m sorry for how I fought all of you for so long, because you’ve been right about him all this time. Even after everything I did to him, the amount of pain I caused without any remorse, he still forgave me.” He shook his head, disbelief audible in his words still. “Without a second thought, he was willing to set it all behind us. I just… I can’t believe that he can be so forgiving after all of that. He’s really amazing.” 

His voice softened towards the end, and he dared to look up from his shoes a moment later, nerves swirling in his gut even though he knew the others would be nothing but overjoyed. After struggling for so long to be vulnerable, he couldn’t just flip a switch and speak easily from his heart. He still found it to be difficult, but at least now he was trying, and he knew before even looking at them that this was all they had ever wanted from him. 

All he saw was a flash of movement before San was barrelling into his chest, and Hongjoong nearly fell off of the crate as a surprised laugh escaped his mouth, returning the embrace a moment later. “I knew it!” San cheered, and he sounded so excited that it made Hongjoong want to cry. These boys cared about him so much, and he knew they could tell how much happier he seemed after finally letting go of the weight that had been crushing him. “I knew that you would come around - it’s impossible not to see the good in Seonghwa. Everything about him is so warm, and all he ever wanted from you was that apology.” 

Hongjoong nodded, and San pulled away with a grin, stepping back to his place beside Wooyoung. “I wish I had seen it sooner,” he murmured, though such thinking was useless and he knew it. All he could do now was be grateful for Seonghwa’s forgiveness, and treat him the way he had deserved to be treated from the very beginning. 

He slid down from the crate, and Yunho appeared at his side, a warm hand resting on his shoulder and bringing comfort with its gentle weight. “It’s okay, Hongjoong. You’re young - we all are. I mean, Seonghwa doesn’t even know when his birthday is, but he’s definitely young, too. You’ve carried the weight of the world, anyone can see that even without knowing the details, but now you have all of us to share that burden. You can still be the person you want to be, and you can still have the relationship with Seonghwa that you’ve wanted but didn’t think you could ever have.” 

Sometimes Hongjoong forgot how wise Yunho could be, for he spent most of his time engaging in ridiculous antics with the rest of the crew, but the look in his eyes now was suggestive of something that Hongjoong would never dare to utter aloud. He felt like his first mate could see directly through the walls of his mind, understanding how he felt about Seonghwa before he had ever understood it himself. 

Squirming under the honesty in his words, Hongjoong shifted away from Yunho’s touch, though he didn’t miss the knowing grin he received in return as he inhaled a breath. “Anyway,” he continued, “I wanted to tell you all that first, but I also wanted to propose that we all bring Seonghwa dinner together tonight, so we can actually spend time all together as a crew. I know we haven’t been able to do that in a long time, but I think he would appreciate it, since he’s probably lonely in there. And that way you can all see him now that he’s awake.” 

Any lingering seriousness completely disappeared with the suggestion, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but smile himself as they all nodded, pleased with his idea. “Let's go, then!” Wooyoung urged, and as he turned to head for the cabin, Hongjoong walked a little faster in order to catch up with him. He wanted to see Seonghwa again, but he also felt nervous, and if anyone would be able to ease his worries it would be the boy who knew Seonghwa the best. 

“Hey,” he murmured as he fell into step with Wooyoung, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “I just wanted-” Before he could finish the thought, an arm was slinging over his shoulders, and San joined their conversation as well, for he had never understood the concept of privacy. Hongjoong just exhaled fondly, starting over for San’s benefit. “I just wanted to ask if… if you think this is okay. I know Seonghwa forgave me, and I’m not trying to undermine that, but I’m not sure that he will actually want me there. I mean, I’m not nearly as close with him as you guys are - we aren’t even friends, so I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.” 

He shrugged as he finished, again feeling strange sharing his thoughts, but he cared more about Seonghwa’s comfort level than his own. “Oh, Hongjoong, don’t worry about that,” Wooyoung responded, and for once his voice was actually serious, not a trace of teasing to be found. “We all want you there, including him. I promise, okay? Seonghwa wouldn’t have forgiven you if he didn’t want to know you.” He offered a gentle smile, and Hongjoong returned it, already feeling some relief at the reassurance. 

“Wooyoung is right - maybe it’ll be a little awkward at first, but nothing bad. You both need to spend more time together in order to feel more comfortable around each other, but we’ve always known that the two of you would get along if you could just stop arguing. It’ll be fine, there’s nothing to worry about.” Affection for these two boys expanded in Hongjoong’s chest, and he raised both of his arms to ruffle their hair, chuckling as they whined in protest. 

They stopped by the kitchen to fill eight plates with the food Wooyoung had already made, and Hongjoong allowed the rest of them to lead the way as they headed to the infirmary, his nerves not as oppressive after talking to them about it. He was beginning to understand why people chose to be honest about their feelings instead of bottling them up inside, for he actually did feel better because of it. 

Of course Wooyoung and San were still in front, and when the infirmary door came into view they burst straight through it, all of them spilling into the room until Hongjoong stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. He chose to linger awkwardly in the back while San embraced Seonghwa, tears flowing now that he saw Seonghwa fully awake, and they stayed like that for so long that Hongjoong wondered if they would ever separate. 

“You know, San, you might as well just lay on the bed with him at this point,” Yeosang pointed out dryly, though his tone was fond. “Neither of you look like you want to let go, and we can’t even see Seonghwa’s face like this.” That much was true, and when San did finally pull away, Seonghwa’s cheeks were clearly flushed pink now that they were all staring at the two of them. 

San, on the other hand, didn’t appear to feel any shame, at least until Seonghwa tried to shift over on the cot. His face twisted in a wince at the movement, and Hongjoong’s heart stuttered as he unconsciously took a step forward. “No - don’t hurt yourself! Seonghwa, stop moving!” San protested, his voice turning frantic as his hands flitted over Seonghwa’s form, unsure of how to make the man’s pain stop. 

Choosing not to heed his words, Seonghwa shifted the rest of the way until he had created enough room for another person, and then he was patting the thin mattress. San clambered up onto the cot immediately, wrapping an arm around Seonghwa and pulling him close without a second thought. His casual displays of comfort still took Hongjoong by surprise sometimes, and he watched as Seonghwa melted into the touch, leaning his face against San’s chest and exhaling in contentment. 

This was the first time Hongjoong had seen someone else hold Seonghwa like that, for usually he was the one giving the comfort, and he felt that same yearning in his chest that he always seemed to feel when they were around one another. He wondered if perhaps he would ever know what it felt like to hold Seonghwa in his arms, to keep him protected from the evils that bombarded their peace on the ship. 

“I’m happy to see all of you again,” Seonghwa said softly, his words full of love and his eyes earnest. Hongjoong could see how the others smiled in response, just as pleased to see him, the newest member of their family. 

“It’s been chaos without you around - Wooyoung has been a total menace without his mother to tame him,” Yunho informed, and Hongjoong bit back a laugh as Wooyoung placed a hand over his chest, scandalized that the first mate would say such a thing. Even while Wooyoung had been distraught over Seonghwa’s injury, he had still clung all over everyone, and since Seonghwa had woken up the day before he had been a holy terror, as if making up for lost time. 

Hongjoong noticed when Seonghwa reached for Wooyoung’s hand, for the boy was standing directly beside the cot, unable to stand any further away after all that had happened. Their fingers intertwined like it was second nature, soft in comparison to how loud Wooyoung’s voice was. “Hey! Don’t lie, I am not the one who has been causing problems,” he paused and pointed at Mingi, “he nearly got electrocuted during the storm!”

“I didn’t realize there was lightning!” Mingi protested, but it wasn’t very convincing, and Hongjoong smiled to himself. While Mingi was very smart when it came to certain things, he could be very oblivious as well, and if it weren’t for Yunho he would have stumbled into more permanent trouble a long time ago. Now, Yunho merely patted his arm to calm him down, shaking his head in resignation.

“They’ve all been causing chaos, don’t let them fool you,” Jongho interjected. “I don’t know how we ever functioned without you - now we can’t even make it a single week.” Seonghwa giggled against San’s shirt, and Hongjoong’s heart melted at the sound, for he had never heard Seonghwa laugh like that before. He couldn’t help but find it adorable, but he didn’t feel as ashamed for his outrageous thoughts now, even though he would never admit such things aloud. If Seonghwa and himself were on good terms now, then was it still wrong for him to find the man cute? He didn’t think so, and that made him happier than it probably should have. 

“They’re all menaces,” Hongjoong agreed, finally speaking up, though he knew Seonghwa could barely see him from the cot. “Anyway, we figured you would be hungry, so we all decided to bring you dinner.” He didn't mention that it had been his idea, of course, for he didn’t want Seonghwa to feel uncomfortable. Hongjoong didn’t care about receiving credit for such things - seeing Seonghwa so carefree was all he had wanted. 

So when Wooyoung blurted out the information he had omitted, Hongjoong’s entire face blazed bright red. “It was Hongjoong’s idea,” the boy said with a mischievous grin, and Hongjoong glared at him. He even had the nerve to laugh, like he felt no fear at all, and Hongjoong was feeling vaguely murderous until Seonghwa interjected. 

“Thank you, I was really hungry,” he admitted, and Hongjoong tore his eyes away from Wooyoung, ignoring the laughter as he looked at Seonghwa instead. He tried to smile, but he had a feeling he just looked awkward, and he cursed himself for being so easily flustered. “You can come closer, you know - it’ll be easier to eat that way,” Seonghwa continued, and Hongjoong froze for a moment as he noted that the rest of the crew had all set down their plates on the cot, forming a circle that he had unconsciously chosen to linger on the outskirts of. 

Shuffling forward, he took the vacant spot beside Yunho and set down his plate as well, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared down at his food. Of course he had wound up standing at the foot of the bed, directly across from Seonghwa, and he knew that if he looked up their eyes would meet. He normally wouldn’t have minded that, but after being exposed by Wooyoung he knew that his embarrassment would be obvious. 

As if he had read Hongjoong’s mind, Wooyoung started to laugh again, so high in pitch that Hongjoong winced and raised his head to glare again. “Sorry, sorry,” Wooyoung placated, though he clearly wasn’t sorry at all. “You’re just so awkward.” Hongjoong narrowed his eyes and gripped the sides of his plate, ready to give the boy a piece of his mind, even though there was no stopping him when he wanted to be a nuisance. Hongjoong feared what he would expose next, palms already sweating. 

“Don’t tease him,” Seonghwa interjected, his voice gentle as he scolded Wooyoung, and Hongjoong fully expected for him to be ignored. He couldn’t restrain his awe when Wooyoung actually quieted down, trying his best to swallow his laughter as he returned his expression back to normal. 

Shaking his head, Hongjoong just stared at Seonghwa for a moment, not speaking until their eyes met. “They were right. You really can control him.” The others had told him that before, but he hadn’t really believed it until now, and if he had witnessed such a display earlier than maybe he would have warmed up to Seonghwa sooner. This made him more valuable than Hongjoong had already thought, and he felt smug as Wooyoung scowled. 

“Whatever, can we please eat now?” Wooyoung asked, and they all began to do exactly that, taking bites of the food on their plates and falling into a rare silence. When they were all together like this, Hongjoong normally couldn’t keep track of all of the different voices filling his ears, and he sighed in satisfaction as he enjoyed his dinner. His stomach had been protesting for more food ever since Seonghwa’s injury, for he had foregone several meals at that time, and it felt good to eat consistently again.

“This is just like old times,” San announced after swallowing a piece of food. “When we would all bring Seonghwa his dinner and force him to talk to us. Except now Seonghwa and Hongjoong actually like each other.” Hongjoong paused mid-chew, swallowing down the food in his mouth as he stared at San, unable to believe what he was hearing. 

These two were ridiculous, and he protested as soon as his mouth wasn’t full, though he never would have admitted how much he was actually enjoying this. Annoying as they could be, Wooyoung and San had been distant from him for so long, and he finally felt like he had them back. Teasing was one of the ways they showed their love, and he would let them drag him through the mud forever if it meant he would always have them close.

“Is your goal in life to make me uncomfortable?” Hongjoong asked, shifting his eyes between Wooyoung and San, both of whom appeared pleased with themselves. “You were both all understanding and sweet to me just on the walk here, and now you keep betraying me!” His eyes were wide in indignance, even though his anger was forced and they all knew it. 

Seonghwa laughed openly against San’s chest, and that alone made this show of idiocy worth it. “What did I even say!” San responded, throwing his free hand up in the air. “Every word I said was true - you told us you were finally nice to Seonghwa and that we were right about him!” There he went exposing more information, and Hongjoong ran a hand over his face, figuring that if Seonghwa was laughing and smiling like that then he couldn’t be turned off by what he was hearing. At least, that was his hope.

“You even said that you could see why we love him so much… basically saying you love him too!” Wooyoung added, twisting the knife even further, and Hongjoong dropped his head into his hands as he heard the two of them share a high five. They were enjoying this way too much, but he loved them too much to protest and they knew it. 

He couldn’t keep his own laughter at bay anymore, and he just let the sounds escape, because he had no reason to hold them back anymore. Seonghwa was a part of their dysfunctional family now, and they didn’t need to hide these parts of themselves from each other like they had done since the start.

When he did eventually raise his head, he knew the smile still stretched wide over his lips. “Why do you only do this to me - make fun of him too!” He protested, extending a hand forward to gesture at Seonghwa, exaggerating the move to make his friends laugh all over again. 

However, Wooyoung locked down his expression as soon as Hongjoong spoke, pausing before taking a somber bite of his food and fixing him with an affronted look. “Seonghwa is injured, we can’t add to his stress you monster,” he explained, raising a hand to his chest as if appalled at Hongjoong’s words. “You didn’t wait outside that door all those days for no reason, don’t try to deny it!” He grinned proudly, for he had just played his trump card, completely unaware that Seonghwa had already mentioned to Hongjoong that he knew about that. 

Still, Hongjoong molded his face into a show of anger, his plate of food completely forgotten as he stepped away from the cot with clear intent. Wooyoung shot up with a yelp, bolting from the room as Hongjoong followed close behind, both of them laughing loud enough for the sounds to echo down the hall. “Come over here!” Hongjoong yelled, and the door closed behind them as he chased after the boy, his chest singing at the sudden feeling of freedom. 

He had missed this more than he had ever realized, and he forced as much speed into his legs as he could manage, grateful that they were the same height. Whenever Hongjoong tried to chase Yunho or Mingi, all he did was embarrass himself. 

Wooyoung banged through the door to the deck with Hongjoong right on his heels, and he lunged forward to wrap his arms around the boy’s waist, cackling laughter breaking through the gusts of wind as Wooyoung fell limp in his hold. “Fine, you got me,” he admitted, trying to catch his breath, but Hongjoong still refused to let go as he wrapped his arms tighter. 

“You’re a menace,” he accused fondly, and Wooyoung turned around in his arms a moment later, their chests touching as he hugged back with the same force. “But I love you for it. And I hate that you know that and take full advantage of it.” Still, he couldn’t help but smile, and Wooyoung stared at him with eyes sparkling, happier than Hongjoong had seen him in a long time. 

“I’m so happy you’re back,” he said, voice as warm as his embrace, and not a hint of teasing lingered in his words. They shared in a comfortable silence for a little while, and Hongjoong was able to let go of his usual discomfort as the touch, allowing Wooyoung’s warmth to protect him from the chill. “You’re not subtle, though,” Wooyoung said abruptly, as if they were both in on some kind of secret. “You look at Seonghwa like you wouldn’t hesitate to jump overboard if he asked you to.” 

Hongjoong pulled away with a groan, smacking Wooyoung’s chest, but he still treasured the boy’s resounding laughter. He cradled the sound in his mind, wishing he could hold onto it forever, but such moments of joy would only ever be fleeting. All he could do was hope that more laughter would always be on the horizon, just like the warm rays of the sun that caressed his skin, for he would cherish it just as much every time.

~

Seonghwa had to spend a few more days bedridden in the infirmary before he was finally able to walk around the ship again, and when Hongjoong looked up from the table in the cafeteria one morning to find him walking without assistance, a wide smile came over his lips. They were all beginning to funnel in for breakfast, Wooyoung just finishing up the food across the room.

“Hey, look at you go,” Hongjoong praised as he raised his hand in a small wave, and he felt rather pleased when Seonghwa blushed at the attention, shuffling inside and allowing the door to close behind him. His abdomen must have been swollen still, for he wore one of Yunho’s shirts that almost reached his knees. He looked so small in it that the sight did something to Hongjoong’s heart, and he treasured the small smile he received in return as Seonghwa slid into a seat on the opposite side of the table. 

Despite the short trip from the crew quarters to here, he did struggle to catch his breath for a moment due to exertion. “Yeosang finally cleared me to be self-sufficient,” he explained, and the navigator looked over at them from a few seats away, glancing up from the map stretched before him with brow raised. 

“You basically cleared yourself - I don’t know shit about bullet wounds,” he grumbled, and Hongjoong withheld a laugh at his expense. “All you did was tell me what to say. I was never cut out to be a doctor.” He shook his head, now turning his gaze to Hongjoong. “You should have heard him talk about it, though - Seonghwa knows so much about that stuff.” 

He went back to looking at his map, and Hongjoong contemplated that for a moment, again wishing that he knew more about Seonghwa as a person. They were consistently kind to each other now, but never anything deeper than that, and Hongjoong could tell that neither of them knew how to cross the expanse of the unknown. “How did you come to be a doctor? I’ve seen plenty of wounds, but I’m still a lost cause when it comes to actually treating them. I can barely even take care of myself after being healed by someone else.”

Seonghwa ducked his head at that, a furrow forming between his brows, and Hongjoong cursed himself for prying too deep. All he wanted was to make conversation, but he had no idea what constituted a sore topic, and he only possessed limited material to ask about in the first place. “Lots of practice.” That was the only answer Seonghwa gave, and he did sound somewhat bitter, which only served to make Hongjoong feel worse. 

As if Seonghwa could tell Hongjoong was beating himself up for asking, he shrugged his shoulders, voice taking on a lighter tone. “Don’t say that, though - you took care of your stitches really well that time.” He offered Hongjoong a tentative smile, and Hongjoong returned it after a long moment, caught off guard by what Seonghwa had just said. Neither of them had mentioned anything of the past since their initial conversation in the infirmary, which had been a few weeks ago at this point. 

Hongjoong tried his hardest not to even think about that time and how cruel he had been, but Seonghwa didn’t seem to hold any resentment in his words. He was genuinely trying to find a shred of common ground, and Hongjoong snapped out of his stupor just as Wooyoung started to bring over breakfast. “Well, it helped that my doctor did a great job treating me. I didn’t have to do much after that.” They held eye contact briefly, and Hongjoong refrained from mentioning how untrue his last sentence was, though he should have known one of his beloved crew would take the liberty of doing so for him. 

“Actually,” Yunho interrupted, Hongjoong’s head already falling into his hands, “Hongjoong was extremely dedicated to taking care of that wound. Like, he would ditch me mid-conversation to go clean it, because he wanted you to be impressed by his compliance. Your handiwork was great, but don’t let him convince you that he did nothing to help it heal.” 

Wooyoung set down the food on the table beside a stack of plates, laughter bursting out of him as he hunched over and gave Yunho a high five. “Oh my god,” he wheezed as he tried to catch his breath, and Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Yunho, I love you so much for that. What a great way to start my day.” He plopped down in the seat beside Seonghwa, taking a plate and helping himself to breakfast.

If he bothered to defend himself, Hongjoong knew he would just be ridiculed further, so he didn’t bother. He watched the others take their plates and food first, for he typically served himself last, and he noticed Seonghwa doing the same. When the other man did eventually reach for a plate when only two remained in the stack, he grabbed both instead, offering one to Hongjoong. 

A small gesture, but Hongjoong’s stomach still flipped as he took it, and he kept sneaking glances at Seonghwa all throughout the meal until he remembered something he had been meaning to tell them all this morning. 

“Oh, before I forget, I wanted to talk to you all about something. Not right now, but maybe we can all meet on the deck later? We have a decision to make regarding the ship, but I want to discuss it with you all first, so any time after lunch will be fine.” Their supplies were still abundant enough for now, but it wouldn’t hurt for them to secure more, and there were other reasons to make a stop as well. Hongjoong would no longer make these choices on the behalf of his entire crew, though, and he swore he could feel Seonghwa’s relief from where he sat. 

Catching Hongjoong’s eye, Yeosang gave him a knowing look, for he was the only other person on this ship who knew enough about navigation to already have figured out where they were headed. He didn’t say anything though, and for that Hongjoong was grateful, as he would rather they discuss the topic after he had a few hours to think about how he would propose his thoughts. 

For the remainder of breakfast he mostly listened to the others speak, contributing at times but mostly just listening and enjoying how nice it felt to eat together again. They had been eating every meal like this since the one in the infirmary, but it still felt surreal to have Seonghwa across from him at the table, the two of them looking down awkwardly each time they made accidental eye contact. 

And this was only the start - with Seonghwa as a part of his crew, they would see each other every day for as long as he chose to stay on Hongjoong’s ship, and the thought made Hongjoong smile as he cleared his plate. Perhaps they would continue to be awkward around one another for a while, but for the first time in his life, Hongjoong felt like he possessed all the time in the world. He didn’t want to rush into the future when he was finally enjoying the now.

~

Seonghwa and Jongho were the last two to gather at the helm that afternoon, and they sat down with everyone else, only Hongjoong left standing now. Finally, the worst of the winds after the storm had died down, and he didn’t need to raise his voice too much in order to be heard. 

“Okay, so I wanted to bring you all out here to talk about something. As we’ve done in the past, this is the span of days during the year where we typically dock and meet with our allies to share information. I think it is important that we go, though there is a chance of a rival crew being docked at the same time we are. If you all think the risk is too great, we can find another way to speak to them, but there’s been silence on the seas. There hasn’t been news of any attack since the crew that tried to destroy our supplies, and they may know why,” Hongjoong explained, his eyes wandering over their number so he could speak to each of them in turn. When they landed on Seonghwa, he darted his gaze away more quickly, nearly losing his train of thought.

Though he tried to speak casually, he was more worried about this than he wanted to admit, for it had been a long time since they had seen any ship at all, much less any allies. A bad feeling had been lingering in the back of his mind for a while, and stopping to dock at the capital would be the best way to find answers. 

Despite that, though, he didn’t want his worry to pressure his crew into compliance, so he refrained from saying anything else, merely presenting their options. “I think we should go,” Yunho said, providing his input first. “Every year we always gain important information from our allies - it’s saved us from trouble more than once before. It’s a risk, but we’ll be careful.”

Hongjoong didn’t find it surprising that Yunho felt that way, for he too understood how dire this meeting with their allies could be. He worried more about the opinion of the rest - Seonghwa in particular - because he had no idea how he would handle a disagreement if any of them were in protest. He had been worrying over it ever since that morning, but he watched now as Seonghwa nodded in agreement with Yunho’s words, the rest of the crew following suit. 

His nerves deflated and he exhaled in relief, eyes unconsciously finding Seonghwa again, who was already looking his way. He knew that Seonghwa probably understood how apprehensive he had been, for their argument last time had ended in disaster, and Hongjoong swore he felt his heart soar when Seonghwa ducked his head in a silent show of approval. Such a small gesture, and yet from him it meant the world. 

“Okay, well if you all agree then I will tell you the plan,” he continued, and there was another round of nods to confirm, further lessening his tension. “Alright, so we will likely only spend one night on land, so as to not prolong our risk while we are there. It is safe to assume at least a few of our allies will be there, and myself and Yunho will meet with their captains to discuss any news, and hopefully find out why things have been so quiet.” He shared a look with Yunho, who grinned at him. “We’ll spend a night there, before leaving the next morning. Any questions?”

No one said anything at first, until Wooyoung’s voice emerged in the silence. “Are we docking at the capital like other years?” Hongjoong nodded, for he assumed that the location hadn’t changed - he had caught no wind of such a thing, and the capital was the most convenient location for a lot of pirates to dock at once. The port was massive, and so many other ships and bodies polluted the city that they were never confronted with trouble. 

At least, not usually, and Hongjoong hoped this time would be no different. “Yes, that is the plan. We’re only a short sail away from the city already, so it wouldn’t be difficult to make a stop there, and that way we could restock on supplies as well. As long as you’re all okay with this - if not, we can figure something else out.” 

He braced himself for objection, but he received none as the rest mumbled their agreements again, though this time Seonghwa didn’t move his lips along with them. Hongjoong’s brows furrowed as he noticed a strange change in his demeanor, like he wasn’t hearing anything the others were saying around him. His eyes were fixated on a random spot on the deck, and they didn’t shift even when the others began to stand up, the meeting mostly adjourned. 

However, Hongjoong didn’t feel entirely convinced that Seonghwa was on board, and he was nervous all over again as he stepped closer to the man, shooting Wooyoung a look that sent him scrambling inside along with the rest. He didn’t need any of their teasing right now - he was genuinely concerned that Seonghwa had an issue with the plan, and he wanted to appease his worries. 

Hesitating for a moment, he placed a hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder, wincing as the man jolted under the touch before getting to his feet. Hongjoong had clearly startled him, and he stumbled for the right words, hating that he could see a shred of fear in Seonghwa’s eyes. Had he really thought for a moment that Hongjoong was going to hurt him? Though Seonghwa had every right to feel that way, it still felt like a dagger had sunk into his chest, and he took a deep breath before speaking. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You just seemed a little on edge - are you really okay with this? If you’re not, I promise I won’t explode at you, or ruin all the progress we’ve made. I really, genuinely want to make sure you are okay with it,” he rambled, making sure to emphasize how much he cared about Seonghwa’s feelings on the matter. 

Squinting up at him, Seonghwa answered in a monotone. “Oh, it’s nothing. My scar was just pulling after sitting for too long, and it was bothering me.” Concern washed over Hongjoong, and he felt terrible now for suggesting that they meet out here when the floor of the deck was notoriously unforgiving. Seonghwa had only just begun to walk on his own again - how could he be so stupid? 

“I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have had you sit out here, I know the deck is uncomfortable. I’m so stupid sometimes, come on, let’s get you inside,” Hongjoong fretted, and before he could talk himself out of it he slid his hand from Seonghwa’s shoulder to his waist, attempting to give him some kind of reprieve from the pain he had mentioned. It was the least he could do, really, just to help a friend.

He tried to ignore how delicate Seonghwa’s waist felt under the rough palm of his hand, his ribcage firm below the skin. Despite the chill of the wind, Seonghwa felt impossibly warm, and Hongjoong hated how his face burned. 

“Oh, um, thanks,” Seonghwa responded, though Hongjoong refused to look him in the eyes as they walked across the deck to the cabin, heart sinking when he recalled the last time they had been in a situation like this. Seonghwa had been bleeding onto the floorboards and completely delirious back then, and Hongjoong’s gut clenched at the memory of him in so much pain. He hated thinking about that time, and he tried his best to focus instead on the gentle sounds of Seonghwa’s breath as they walked, his perfect posture despite his pain. 

As they neared the door, Hongjoong spoke again, his worry getting the better of him. “Is it feeling better though?” he blurted, but Seonghwa just looked at him in clear puzzlement, not understanding the question. Of course he didn’t, for Hongjoong had tried to resume their conversation out of nowhere - why did he lose all common sense when he was near this man? 

“I - um, what do you mean?” Seonghwa stuttered, and Hongjoong sunk deeper into his own embarrassment. He had never claimed to be eloquent, but Seonghwa made him so nervous that he was even worse at speaking than normal.

“The scar - you said it was hurting, so I was just wondering if it was doing better now,” he rushed to clarify, tripping over his own words. They were truly a pair of great communicators, weren’t they?

“Oh, that. Yes, it’s doing a lot better, actually. Just some occasional soreness, but nothing like before,” Seonghwa answered, staring down at his shoes, and Hongjoong could tell he wanted to be anywhere but here. Great job, dumbass. 

Still, he was pleased with the answer, and he hummed in acknowledgment. “That’s really good, I’m glad.” He didn’t know what else to say, so he clamped his lips shut before he made the situation even more awkward, wanting to punch himself for being so socially inept. 

Finally they reached the door, and Hongjoong extended an arm to open it, gently helping Seonghwa get over the threshold. Once they were inside, Seonghwa separated himself immediately, Hongjoong’s arm sliding away from his waist. His fingers tingled at the loss of contact, and he closed them tight to his palm, hoping to catch the feeling and keep it forever. 

“Um, thank you for the help. It feels better now, so I’m just gonna go, um, find Wooyoung. Yeah. See you,” Seonghwa announced, stumbling over the words before fleeing down the hall, absolutely no limp to his step. In fact, he appeared to be in no pain at all, and Hongjoong shook his head in disbelief, unable to keep away the smile that stretched over his lips. 

Adorable. 

~

About two days later, they finally arrived at the capital. Hongjoong breathed in the salty air as he helped Mingi and Yunho to dock the ship, only half focused on what he was doing. He couldn’t stop glancing over towards the front of the ship, where Seonghwa had been sitting for hours, his knees pulled up to his chest. In all that time, he hadn’t so much as fidgeted, and Hongjoong knew that something was going on with him. For some reason, he was dreading their arrival at port, although he had told none of them his reasons. 

Hongjoong had pulled Wooyoung aside the night before, but Seonghwa hadn’t even spoken to him about it, and that alone raised a red flag in Hongjoong’s mind. Seonghwa and Wooyoung were practically attached at the hip, so for this to be a secret even between the two of them… he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what the problem was, but it had to be something important. He had tried to be extra nice to Seonghwa, hating to see him act like this, but nothing he said garnered a genuine smile from the man. 

For a while, he had worried that he was the one at fault, but upon closer observation he had come to realize that Seonghwa had been acting like that with everyone, not just him. Something was bothering him - something related to their trip to the capital - and Hongjoong hated how powerless he felt. If Seonghwa didn’t want to talk about it, then there wasn’t anything they could do, but he missed seeing the sparkling eyes and gentle smile he had begun to look forward to each morning. 

Seonghwa wasn’t happy, and Hongjoong hated that he didn’t know how to fix it. Though he usually enjoyed their time in the capital each year, he just wanted to get it over with this time, in hopes that Seonghwa would be honest with them after the fact. He hoped that everything would be okay until then. 

Sweat dripped down his back as he and Mingi adjusted the chain connected to the anchor, the sun beating down on them now that the winds of the open sea had diminished. Already they could hear the bustle of the city, and Hongjoong shielded his eyes as he scanned the dock, so many different kinds of ships stretching out in either direction. Any time they docked anywhere, even the smallest of ports, he always had to check for any navy ships. Dread clawed its way up his spine, but he didn’t see any of the familiar sails, and he allowed himself to relax. 

Hongjoong hoped that Wooyoung and the others would infect Seonghwa with their contagious excitement eventually, for they loved going around the merchant shops and buying useless things. Only himself and Yunho had to do any serious business here, and he did his best to keep it that way, for the rest of his crew weren’t cut out for conversing with allies. They would probably ruin every relationship with every ally Hongjoong possessed in a matter of minutes. 

When Hongjoong had spoken with Wooyoung the night before, he had also given the boy a small bag of coins to pass along to Seonghwa, for he wanted the man to be able to buy something nice for himself, too. None of them possessed any of their own money, anyway - they all took from one collective pool, and Seonghwa was one of their number as much as the rest. 

Hongjoong knew the boy had probably taken credit for the gift, but he didn’t really care about that. He wanted to win Seonghwa over without such bribery - the last thing he wanted was for the man to feel indebted to him all because of a stupid pouch of coins. 

They departed the ship soon after, and Hongjoong watched with a full heart as Seonghwa stepped down from the dock onto solid earth for the first time in what had to have been years after being imprisoned for so long. He was sure the others hadn’t realized the significance of that, too excited to get to the heart of the city, but he noticed when Seonghwa froze for a split second before Wooyoung tugged him forward, adjusting to the solid ground. 

As they approached the center of the city, Hongjoong made his way to the front of their group, leading them through the crowds as he searched for other pirates. Booths lined the streets, and people pushed past them constantly, the rooftops cast in the brilliant glow of the sun. Hongjoong would always choose the sea over land, but he could still appreciate how the city brimmed with life, so different from the desolate nature of the open sea. 

“Keep your eyes peeled for allies!” Hongjoong yelled over the many layering voices around them, glancing over his shoulder to ensure that his friends could hear him. Not that it really mattered, for only two of them were tall enough to actually see over the crowd, and sure enough Yunho was the one to holler and wave at someone among the masses a few minutes later. He called Hongjoong over, and the two of them departed from the rest of their crew, trusting them to not do anything stupid in the meantime. 

Hongjoong had acquainted himself with a few different crews of pirates over the years, more so out of necessity than genuine friendship, for he could only ever trust them to a limited degree. In the end, each of their loyalties lied with their crews alone, and they all knew that, but having access to information could mean the difference between certain death and a narrow escape. He nodded at the pirates as they approached, the group of them roughly maneuvering through the crowd as they headed for a dingy pub through one of the back alleys. 

They always discussed things there, for no one of any importance was ever around to eavesdrop, and Hongjoong schooled his expression into a hardened mask as they entered through the creaky wooden doors. To the rest of the seas, he was ruthless despite his youth, and he had a reputation to uphold when surrounded by other pirates. Most captains were twice his age, but the smart ones had learned not to underestimate him, for the ones who had thought otherwise were now decomposing at the bottom of the sea. 

Yunho stood firm behind Hongjoong as they strode dutifully into the pub, sliding into a worn booth towards the back of the room. A familiar massive, heavily scarred man already sat on the side across from them with a smaller, lankier man beside him, and the pirates they had encountered in the square took a seat as well, the air heavy with tension as they all observed each other for a long moment. Hongjoong remained tense in their presence, and he knew that Yunho did too, for neither of them were reckless enough to let their guard down around men with such brutal track records. 

Of course, Hongjoong’s was the worst of all, but he knew that they would never relax around him either. “So,” began the pirate beside the massive one, a man Hongjoong didn’t recognize, “tell us of your news, and we shall share ours.” The massive pirate just nodded at Hongjoong and Yunho, for he had never been able to speak to them himself - he went by the name X, as his mouth had been sliced open and stitched back together, leaving behind a gruesome scar in the shape of the letter. He wasn’t physically able to talk, but that had never inhibited his fearsome rule over his ship, a captain in every sense of the word. 

“We have mainly come here out of a lack of news,” Hongjoong admitted, though his voice remained stony. “We encountered several enemy crews a few months ago, but the seas have been strangely void of any ships at all as of late. In all my time captaining my crew, I have never seen anything like it.” He raised his palms towards the ceiling, a gesture of resigned confusion, and the pirate speaking for X pressed his lips together in a thin line. 

“And of your crew?” He asked the other two pirates, both of whom repeated answers similar to what Hongjoong had already said. These men had been traveling the seas far longer than himself, and even they were effectively stumped by this turn of events - it was not a reassuring thought, and Hongjoong refused the urge to share a glance with Yunho, for he knew his first mate would have drawn the same conclusion. 

The lanky pirate looked at his captain, only continuing when he received a brusque nod, a silent order for him to contribute their information. From their reactions, Hongjoong had a feeling that they knew more than the rest, a suspicion that was confirmed when he opened his mouth. “That is news enough - it confirms that what we have heard is true. The seas have changed, because their tyrant master has deemed it so.” 

His words were cryptic, but Hongjoong understood exactly what he meant, frozen as he continued to listen, horror settling over him like a second skin. “The navy has broken the fragile peace of centuries, and the seas have been at war. An order has been declared upon the entire nation, requiring that pirate ships are sunk on sight. You haven’t seen as many crews, because they are all dead.” The pirate spoke bluntly, for emotion had no place among a meeting of allies, and Hongjoong had to force down all of the feelings that threatened to burst out of him at once. 

Outrage. Powerlessness. Fear. This meant that his father had been a cog in the machine that had declared that very order, and he would be shocked if the man hadn’t been the main catalyst for such destruction of their kind. After all, he would have been a fool to assume that his father didn’t know what he had become - the legends surrounding him weren’t exactly subdued. The seas heard everything, and his father had commanded their waves for decades. 

Allowing the information to sink in for a moment, the pirate then continued, his tone grim and laced with steel. “That is not all, I’m afraid. They have not only been ordered to sink us, but to actively hunt our ships. Many crews have been eliminated in a matter of months, and you surely will be next if you do not take the proper precautions. Man your nest at all times, and do not dock if you can so help it. Even being here today is exceedingly dangerous, and we urge you to leave come sunrise. They have not found us here yet, but there is no doubt that they will.” 

Chills spread along Hongjoong’s skin, and nausea swirled in his gut as he forced himself to swallow, nodding stiffly towards X. A terrifying man to behold, and yet he had just saved the lives of Hongjoong and his entire crew. “Thank you,” he commended, and the pirate fixed him with an unwavering look, his face etched deeply with lines as he nodded once. 

It paid to have allies on these seas now more than ever, and Hongjoong wondered what would have happened to them if they had chosen not to make this stop. He shivered at the thought, banishing it entirely, for it would do him no good to dwell on such scenarios. They possessed the information they had come in search of, and all they could do now was heed the advice. In fact, Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to depart the capital immediately, but that wouldn’t have been the wise choice. They needed to pile as many crates of supplies onto their ship as possible, and a good night's sleep in a tavern bed wouldn’t hurt either. 

Bidding their farewells to the other pirates, Hongjoong and Yunho stiffly exited the pub, waiting until they were close to the shore to speak. “Fuck,” Yunho cursed as soon as they were alone, kicking the side of a crumbling building. “What the hell are we gonna do - what are we supposed to tell the others? They’ll be scared out of their minds!” The first mate gripped at his hair in distress, and Hongjoong just stood there as he paced, feeling far calmer than he should have. 

Dimly, he registered that part of his mind had shut down at the imminence of an unwanted reunion with his father, and for that he was grateful. The last thing he needed was to freak out and lose his grip on his composure - he needed to be solid for his crew now more than ever. “We tell them the truth,” he uttered, and Yunho paused, his eyes wide with panic. “We can’t hide something this dire. They deserve to know, and we all need to do our part to keep watch and ensure our safety.” For as long as we are able. 

Hongjoong was a lot of things, but he had never had the privilege of being naive. He knew that they couldn’t outrun a fleet of military ships, and eventually they would have to make their stand. Normally he rose to the challenge of such danger, always finding his crew a way out, but this time was unlike all of the rest. He couldn’t find the strength to hope inside of himself, not when he knew his father likely hunted the seas looking for one specific ship, determined to discipline his son once and for all. 

“Well, I guess you’re right, but Hongjoong - what are we going to do? They said that most crews have already been overrun, and there’s only eight of us, dammit! We don’t stand a fucking chance against ships that are designed to cripple ours upon impact!” Hongjoong hadn’t heard Yunho lose his temper like this in a long time, and the sight made his heart ache. He would do anything to keep his boys safe, he had always made sure they knew that. 

Anything. 

“When the time comes, I will find a way out for our crew. Do not worry yourself with that,” he responded flatly, and he swore he could see the steam pouring out from Yunho’s ears. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He exclaimed, voice growing in volume. “How am I supposed to stop worrying just because you said some cryptic bullshit?” 

Hongjoong sighed, for he knew Yunho had a valid point, but he could never explain his thoughts. His first mate would never allow him to go through with the loose plan already forming in his mind, and so he turned the conversation in a different direction instead. “Do you trust me?”

He watched as Yunho deflated, clearly still uneasy as he stood there for a prolonged moment before nodding, like he knew he trusted Hongjoong but he was mad about it. “Yes,” he ground out, and Hongjoong took a step forward to wrap an arm around his shoulders, unwilling to show additional affection when anyone could be watching them. 

“Then there is no need for you to worry. Come, help me to stock the ship with supplies.” 

~

Later that evening, the entire crew gathered together within the small room they had purchased for the night in a popular inn. Hongjoong feared being seen, but there was little they could do, and he made sure that they were all confined to the same room, uncaring that it was far too small for eight people. What mattered most was that none of them were out of his sight, and as they all sat around the floor, he finally explained to them the information from the meeting. 

He had been dreading this all day, but they needed to know, and he told the story without so much as flinching. Now that the shock had worn off, all that he could harness inside of himself was rage in its purest form, and all of them stared at him in disbelief. Varying expressions of terror slowly began to come over their faces as the reality of his words sunk in, and he hated to see them like this, hated having to bear such terrible news. 

Such was his role as captain, however, and he would rather scare them than watch them be slaughtered by the navy’s artillery that outmatched theirs a hundred to one. Silence hung over them for far too long, until Jongho finally spoke, his eyes filled with fear. “What are we supposed to do?” He whispered, and he sounded so young that Hongjoong had to close his eyes for a moment, exhaling to maintain his grip on the emotions that wanted to come spilling out. 

“Tomorrow morning, we set sail. Yunho and I were able to restock our supplies earlier - we won’t have to worry about that for a while. We’ll stay out of sight, someone will need to be up in the crow’s nest at all times, scanning the horizon for any ship, not just military. We can’t risk any damage to our own ship by engaging with other pirate crews either.” He repeated the advice that X had given him, and watched as the others nodded numbly, murmuring agreements without any soul behind the words. 

Already, he could see how his father and his order was indirectly affecting them, and he wanted to scream, to break something and sink his teeth into his own skin until he ripped his heart clean out of his chest. He couldn’t do any of that, though, so he merely sat there, desperate to assure them as much as he could despite his own lack of hope. “Nothing will happen to any of you - I will do whatever necessary to keep this crew safe,” he vowed, allowing his protectiveness to surge over all else, for he knew he had the power to save them. Even if it meant losing everything he had worked so hard to gain, he wouldn’t hesitate, for they were his entire world. He would spend the rest of his life in agony if it meant they could still feel the breeze through their hair, still breathe in the salty air. 

“I trust you.” The three words were spoken by the person who he least expected to hear them from, and even in a situation as tense as this one, Seonghwa still had the ability to catch him by surprise. His anger melted away as he stared at Seonghwa, and as the rest of his crew echoed the sentiment, he knew that he would do whatever necessary to keep them safe. 

Even if he had to willingly return to the man he hated most. The man he had finally built up the courage to escape from after over fifteen years of abuse, his skin permanently marred by blades, bullets, and unforgiving hands. 

For them, he would be the one to hand the power back to his father.

Chapter Text

Hongjoong was the first to rise the following morning, for he hadn’t even been able to close his eyes once as the night dragged on, too petrified of what was to come now that he was alone with nothing but his thoughts. He listened to the others breathe in sleep, but the sounds didn’t soothe him like they normally did - instead, all he could think about was the twisted joy his father would find in knowing that Hongjoong had come to care about this crew.

As a child, any time he had shown even a shred of kindness to someone, his father had ordered him to kill that person in cold blood as soon as he caught wind of it. And somehow, he had always known, for the entire naval base had been under his control, and he had eyes everywhere. Sometimes, Hongjoong had lain awake just like this in his small room sequestered in the back of the base, unable to shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone, that his father would emerge from shadow itself to hurt him while he was sleeping. 

Despite how far he had come since his escape, it hurt to now experience that same fear all over again, as if he were still a child locked away. Hongjoong had seized his own freedom, had built this life that he cherished above all else, and even after all of that he still feared his father. All it took was one mention of the man to send him into a dark, twisting spiral, and as he lay there in the dark he swore he could see outlines in the shadows of the room, hulking and dangerous and far too familiar. 

The night seemed to drag on for an eternity, and in an attempt to distract himself he spent a long time just scanning his eyes over the members of his crew, all of them forced into one small space, and yet no one seemed to mind. Majority of the time they chose to cuddle up like this, and his heart warmed as he watched them all breathe deeply, faces innocent in sleep. They were so young, so inexperienced when it came to the horrors the world could hold, and he had always done everything in his power to protect that. 

When he looked at them now, he felt dangerously close to crying all of the sudden, and his lips trembled into a bittersweet smile even though no one was around to see it. Yunho and Mingi had curled around one another, the two of them taking up half of the room on their own thanks to their size, and Hongjoong was thankful to see Yunho tension-free in sleep. The first mate had been distraught after the meeting, and he hated seeing his closest confidant lose control of his typically bulletproof resolve, a very rare thing. Mingi had always been able to calm him down, and Hongjoong recalled the days after Mingi had first joined the crew, an instant connection sparking between the two of them. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought they had known each other their entire lives. 

The same could be said for the rest too, however, Jongho’s arms carefully wrapped around Yeosang, so gentle with the navigator despite the brutality his hands were capable of. Their love was more mature, the two of them finding each other when they were most in need of strength, and Hongjoong wondered what it would be like to have someone like that. Someone who knew every part of him, and understood when he was in need of support without a single spoken word. 

His eyes automatically found Seonghwa at the thought, though the man wasn’t sleeping alone either - both Wooyoung and San had burrowed into his sides, mouths open and drool soaking Seonghwa’s shirt. His smile grew at the sight of them, and he wished to remember the mental image forever, the unlikely love that had bloomed between Seonghwa and these boys. Their bond was beautiful, and Hongjoong knew that whatever came their way, his crew would be okay as long as Seonghwa stayed with them. 

Even if Hongjoong himself could not do the same. 

A soft sigh escaped parted lips as he watched the steady rise and fall of Seonghwa’s chest, understanding the feeling that bloomed in his heart even as he wished it weren’t so. Despite how little they knew about each other, Seonghwa still saw past his walls like no one else had ever been able to do, able to identify how he truly felt even back when they had still detested one another. He had given Hongjoong so much hope, that perhaps someone understood the awful things he had suffered and wouldn’t see him differently if he knew, and that made it all the more painful now that he knew it didn’t matter. 

He knew in his heart that Seonghwa was the man he had come to care for in a different way than the rest, but he had been naive to let himself hope for happiness. Life had never been on his side, and as he watched Seonghwa, he knew it would be selfish to be honest about how he felt. Once his father caught wind of their ship, it would all be over, and he would leave the man heartbroken. He should have possessed the strength to keep a neutral distance, but every time he thought about it his heart ached, unable to let go of its desires. 

Every time he looked at Seonghwa, his heart composed a beautiful song, lilting and cavernous and inflected with the shadows of smiles, the gentle touch of practiced hands. Smitten, but a little bit sad too, for he would never be able to forget the things he had done, the scars his actions had left behind. Hongjoong had never been granted the luxury of hearing real music in his life, but he had a feeling that even the most grand of composers would bow to his heart’s song, and it pained him now to wonder how long it would take for him to forget the melody if he was taken from this ship.  

For how long would he remember Seonghwa’s smile, his entire top row of teeth exposed and his brows furrowing when he laughed without abandon?  When would he start to forget how it had felt to hold his waist, to feel the fragile bones of his ribs beneath his own fingers? Hongjoong’s resolve trembled at the thought, for no one was awake to see how he faltered now, and he traced his eyes over every line of Seonghwa’s face, trying to commit it to memory even as he knew the effort would be wasted. 

Lips parted in sleep, every breath whistled past as Seonghwa inhaled, the only sound present in that small tavern room. Hongjoong noticed the length of his lashes, dusting over the high bones of his cheeks gracefully, his face more striking than the rays of the summer sun. He appeared so much younger like this, but even in sleep there were creases noticeable between his brows and around the corners of his mouth, a tension he could never release even while dead to the world. 

It made Hongjoong sad, to know that Seonghwa had suffered as much as he had, and he leaned over before he could stop himself. A blanket covered Seonghwa and the two boys cuddled into his sides, and Hongjoong gripped its edge and pulled it up to cover them more fully, gently tucking the softest part right beneath Seonghwa’s chin. No one had ever tucked Hongjoong into bed as a child, and he had the feeling that Seonghwa had never experienced that kind of steadfast love either. 

He wished so badly that he could have more time, so that he could love Seonghwa in the ways he deserved, and a lump began to form in his throat because he knew that for the two of them, tragedy was inevitable. In the past day, Hongjoong’s dreams for his future had been turned upside down, and all he saw before him now was desolation. 

And yet, he still couldn’t deny the wants of his heart. Moving his arm without making a sound, Hongjoong pressed his lips to the palm of his hand before placing it over Seonghwa’s heart, gently enough to not wake him. He could feel the steady beat that kept him alive, and he closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. A tear rolled down from behind his lashes, and he felt it trace a steady path down his cheek without wiping it away, allowing himself one single moment to be selfish. 

He wanted to scream and sail directly to the navy base so he could destroy it himself, he wanted to return to his father all of the pain that he still held inside of himself, but he could do none of that. So instead, he let himself cry one tear, a droplet of moisture that contained all of the sorrow he could not speak aloud. It traveled to the hard edge of his jaw, beading along the skin until gravity took control, the tear dropping down to the blanket and immediately disappearing into the fabric. 

Hongjoong pulled back once it had fallen, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand and forcing himself to lie back down, staring up at the ceiling until dawn. He held the hand that had touched Seonghwa’s chest to his own, feeling the steady beat there as well. Life was crueler than any man, for it had led him straight to the one he had yearned to meet all of his life, had allowed him to hope before yanking it all away. 

And what he hated the most was that he knew he would do it all over again, even if their fleeting chance at love ended as tragically as he felt it would. He would endure the deepest pits of hell if it meant hearing Seonghwa laugh for just a second, or catching a passing glance of his smile, the memory already fading before the moment had even ended. 

For Seonghwa, he was beginning to realize that he would endure anything. 

When the first tendrils of sunlight began to pierce the night sky, black turning to deep purple, Hongjoong rose to his feet with his state of mind carefully intact once more. No lingering emotions from his sleepless night remained, and he shook both Yunho and Jongho awake, leaving the weapons master to wake the others as he pulled Yunho over to the door. Though the size of the room left no space for privacy, he still needed to brief his first mate before they emerged into the crowded streets of the city, and expectant eyes stared back at him.

“We don’t normally depart the capital at this time,” he said quickly, glancing at the others to make sure they were waking up, most of them sitting upright and blinking blearily as they remembered where they were. “Sunrise is a crowded time for this city - the merchants will be setting up their booths, and the other pirate crews will have the same idea as us. We need to stay together, no matter what. There will be enemies out there today.” 

Yunho nodded, taking his duty seriously as he always did, and Hongjoong was eternally grateful that he never had to bear these types of burdens on his own. “As long as they all know to head for the ship no matter what, we will be okay. All we need to do is get there, and then we will be free to sail.” Neither of them mentioned how untrue that idea really was, for they couldn’t be free to sail for as long as the navy hunted their kind, and Hongjoong could see in the shadows of Yunho’s face that he was unable to dismiss the thought. 

Clearing his throat, Hongjoong stepped away from the door, scanning his eyes over the room to find that the rest of the crew had packed up all of their belongings, leaving nothing behind. “Are we all ready?” he asked, and they nodded wearily, still shaking off the lingering grip of sleep. “Okay, let’s head out, then. The docks will be chaotic at sunrise, so stick together even if the group gets separated,” Hongjoong warned, and his nerves refused to settle even as they agreed. 

He had a bad feeling about this day, and his gut was rarely wrong. 

“There might be rival crews there - do not engage with them, just head for our ship even if you get lost in the crowd,” Yunho added, and Hongjoong watched as the members of his crew stiffened, tension bleeding into the air around them as they understood the risk. He hated to take a chance like this, for rival crews always meant trouble, but they had no choice - they needed to be out on the seas as soon as possible, so that he could do everything in his power to outrun his father. 

Hongjoong led the way as the eight of them shuffled out of the inn and onto the streets, this area almost vacant since it was so far from the port. They had chosen it on purpose in order to run into no other pirates during their stay, but now they had a much longer walk to the port, and as orange and red ribbons of color began to streak the purple sky, the crowd started to grow. 

All kinds of people filled the heart of the city, pirates and artisans and the homeless, and fear clawed its way up Hongjoong’s throat as the hordes began to press in around them. He kept turning his neck to look over his shoulder, able to make out most of his crew for the time being, though he knew it wouldn’t last. Not when they were beginning to have to force their way through to the other side. 

A cold sweat soaked the back of his neck in moments, and Hongjoong shoved his way past a burly pirate, head lowered to keep his identity concealed even as he caught a glimpse of the ink on the man’s arm. He recognized it - these were enemies, all over the square. His tongue dried in his mouth, and he frantically continued to push forward, unable to tell if he was still traveling in the right direction at all. He had to hope that Yunho could still see him, and that he would keep the back end of the line pushing forward. 

The people around him moved like one massive entity, and he struggled to intake air as he fought against the press of bodies, wishing more than anything that he would see the break in the crowd that signaled the docks up ahead. Part of the reason why Hongjoong loved the open sea so much was because of how long he had spent in a small room by himself - he hated feeling isolated, like the walls would close in on him tighter and tighter and no one would ever let him out. Even once his father had begun to drag him out to the naval ships for his lessons, he had still spent more time in that room than anywhere else, and with nothing in sight but this sea of people he could feel his mind beginning to shrink in fear. 

His breath tore from his throat in ragged gasps as he began to pick up the pace, heart hammering against his ribs as he ruthlessly shoved people aside, digging his nails into skin and straining his muscles against men much larger than himself. Fear surpassed the limitations of his body, and after what felt like ages he finally felt the crowd begin to thin, urgency sending him forward at a stumbling run until he could finally breathe again. 

He raised a trembling hand to hover over his brows and block the sun as he squinted his eyes in search of the others, new panic setting in as his claustrophobia finally began to subside. Crews of pirates milled around the port, and they all looked the same to him as he searched for the only seven people he cared about, struggling to find their familiar shapes against the rising sun. Most of all, he searched for Yunho or Mingi, and after several tense minutes he finally found the former. 

“Yunho!” He yelled, though the words fell on deaf ears amidst the bustling noise around them, and he darted through groups of people until he could see the first mate more clearly. Only then did he realize that San was the only other member of the crew there, and dread hung over him like a blanket of lead as he skidded to a stop in front of the two of them, jaw set in barely concealed panic as they looked back at him in relief.

San looked over Hongjoong’s shoulder, not expecting him to be alone, and his face began to fall when he realized that no one else was coming. “Hongjoong, what… where are the others?” he asked, and Hongjoong internally winced at the shrill sound of his voice, chest twisting in anger at himself.

He was their captain, and it was his job to see them all to safety, but he had been too lost in his own fear to uphold his duty. Now the remainder of their crew was missing, and his mind buzzed with static as he frantically scanned the horizon, his words dying on his lips at first when he tried to speak. “I don’t know,” he admitted, voice tight with fear, and he shook his head roughly. “Fuck, I should have never-” 

The loud pounding of footsteps against the cobbles cut him off, and he turned his head to find Seonghwa running towards them, hair wild and expression harried. “Thank god,” he breathed, relief crashing over him for a split second as he scanned over Seonghwa’s body for any wounds. He found nothing, and he inhaled deeply, grateful for one less crew member unaccounted for. “That was way worse than I had anticipated. We need to find the others, there are several enemies here today.” 

Seonghwa stood stiffly by Hongjoong’s side, not saying a word as he too scanned the docks, the worry in his eyes a reflection of what Hongjoong knew his own expression must have looked like. Both of them cared for this crew in the same manner, and yet neither of them knew where the rest of their family had gone. Hongjoong wanted to rip his hair out from its roots, but they had no time to waste.

“Yeosang, Wooyoung, Mingi, and Jongho were together,” San began speaking, trying to comfort himself. “We just need to find them all and then we can leave.” Much easier said than done, and Hongjoong didn’t grace the statement with a response, for he feared that he would snap at the boy if he opened his mouth. He knew it was unfair, but in his anger he couldn’t fathom why San had lost sight of them if he had known they were together. 

How could he fault anyone else for losing the others in their panic, when Hongjoong had completely lost sight of anything aside from his own escape? His anger was misplaced, and he knew it, for the only person truly at fault was himself. The four of them began to wade through the thinner crowds, Hongjoong wedged in between Yunho and Seonghwa, and though such closeness normally would have bothered him amidst the already oppressive surroundings, he refused to let them out of his sight again

He could feel the steady press of Seonghwa’s hip against his own, and had the circumstances been different he knew his heart would have been doing backflips, but his fear overshadowed all else. With each second that ticked by, his unease grew, and he had to forcibly draw in enough breath to fill his lungs so he wouldn’t give in to his panic. Feverish heat burned at his skin as his eyes darted maniacally over people of all different sizes, unable to find any of the four figures he knew by heart. 

“I see Mingi!” Yunho finally exclaimed, and Hongjoong could have collapsed right there under the force of his relief, moving faster along with the three members of his crew by his sides until finally the mechanic came into view, his head visible above the rest. He wasn’t alone either, and Hongjoong’s fear finally began to settle, head spinning from the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins from the moment they had first entered the crowds. 

Mingi turned to face them, and his fear visibly melted away at the sight of the rest of his crew, a crooked smile curving his lips and exposing the teeth behind. Before the two others standing with him had turned fully around, Hongjoong was already counting their number in his head, his entire body frozen in place as an ice cold wave of dread soaked him straight to the bone. Only three of them were here. 

There should have been four. 

Hongjoong’s eyes blew wide in panic as his mind dimly registered Yeosang and Jongho as the other two who had been standing clustered together with Mingi, heart stuttering in his chest as he struggled for air, his worst nightmare coming to life. Wooyoung, the member of his crew who was terrified of violence, who had never learned to so much as hold a weapon correctly, much less fight with it, was missing. The city was teeming with rivals, and they had lost the one who was most vulnerable to danger. 

A hand grasped at his shoulder hard, nails digging all the way down to his skin, and Hongjoong looked in Seonghwa’s direction to find the same realization evident in the horror written on his face. His eyes, normally soft and full of twinkling light Hongjoong could only compare to the stars, nearly bulged from their sockets as he turned back towards Mingi. “Where is Wooyoung?” Seonghwa asked, and Hongjoong had never heard him sound so vulnerable before, his voice shaking as he checked over their number again, willing himself to have made a mistake. 

Hongjoong could hear the answer ringing in his mind before it came, and he had to press his lips together tight. “We lost him,” Mingi responded slowly, finally noticing that they weren’t all present. He continued in a faltering whisper, smile falling away in an instant. “He said he was going to fall back to walk with you, Seonghwa. He was scared.” The words sent a knife directly through Hongjoong’s chest, and he staggered back a step before catching his balance, the last three words resounding in his ears like the shatter of a gong. 

He was scared. Wooyoung was scared, and you couldn’t dismiss your own cowardice in order to keep him safe. He heard the words in his father’s voice, and he clenched his fingers into shaking fists, his thoughts far too loud and completely silent all at once. Wooyoung was lost, because Hongjoong hadn’t been there to protect him. 

He could be anywhere. 

Hongjoong knew that panic would only make the situation worse, but maintaining his composure was more difficult than it had ever been, and he only managed to disperse the fog in his brain when Seonghwa’s warmth at his side vanished. Terror seized his heart as he spun around fast enough to make his head spin, certain that an enemy had just yanked the man away, his protectiveness surging and extinguishing all else. 

Seonghwa had only moved a few steps away, though, and Hongjoong’s paranoia diminished as he took in the state he was in, trembling fingers covering his lips as he stared forward, eyes unseeing. Hongjoong watched as he shifted his hands to grip at his hair a moment later, pulling with such force that Hongjoong yearned to step forward and gently uncurl his fingers, but he could tell that something was… wrong with him. Something beyond just the loss of Wooyoung, for he appeared to have gone somewhere else, face slackening as a garbled moan escaped his lips. 

Just as Hongjoong began to tentatively step forward, something about the importance of staying together about to leave his lips, Seonghwa turned and bolted. In just a matter of seconds he was lost in the crowd, and Hongjoong yelled after him, veins popping from his neck as his voice strained to be heard. “Seonghwa, no! It’s not safe!” This could not be happening - he felt control slip away even further at the prospect of losing two members of his crew instead of one, his head dangerously light as he nearly staggered to the ground. The others shouted their protests as well, already beginning to move after him, and Hongjoong had to stick his arms out to keep them in place despite his own desire to chase after Seonghwa as well. 

“Stop - we can’t just run after him, we’ll lose each other all over again and Wooyoung won’t be the only one missing.” He had to force the words out, but the rest of the crew heeded his command, and he clenched his jaw as he turned away from where Seonghwa had been standing to look at them. “We will search for them, and we will find them, but we have to do it together. Okay?” He waited until each of them had nodded, before he did so as well, stepping forward so that they were all wedged together again. 

Instantly, a pair of hands wrapped around his arm, and Hongjoong glanced over to find San clinging to him, eyes shining. He knew how much Wooyoung meant to this boy, and he used the pain in his chest to fuel his determination, eyes set firmly upon the city looming before them. 

Though he couldn’t tell where Seonghwa had gone, Hongjoong traveled around the outer edge of the crowd, constantly checking that the rest of his crew was right behind until they slipped into a vacant alley. From there, he broke into a run, periodically calling Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s names but only ever receiving the echo in response. His panic built the longer they searched, for he had no idea how to navigate the city, and every turn seemed to end in a dead end. 

By the fourth time they had to retrace their steps, Hongjoong was beginning to lose control of his temper, though thankfully no one tried to speak to him, all too lost in their own worry. Every minute that passed was a minute too long, a minute where anything could be happening to the two missing members of his crew. Internally, Hongjoong cursed Seonghwa for running off, but at least he knew the man could defend himself - Wooyoung, on the other hand, had likely already been hurt. 

The thought alone made him see red, and he made a reckless turn around another corner, ignoring the scrape of his shoulder against the rough cement siding of a deserted building. This part of the city seemed to exist on a different plane from the rest, run down and full of vagrants, and Hongjoong found it difficult to believe that this was the same place. He didn’t even know if they were remotely close to either Wooyoung or Seonghwa, as the search was near impossible when they possessed no sense of direction in this dilapidated maze of crumbling homes and narrow alleys strewn with refuse. 

Still they continued to run, their sense of urgency never diminishing as their footsteps slapped against the grime streaked ground. Mingi eventually took over the lead, his long legs carrying him forward as he checked every side street they ran past, searching for any sign of life. Hongjoong was beginning to think that they would run until their legs gave out when Mingi yelled Seonghwa’s name yet again, checking the next street that they passed. 

Finally, he came to an abrupt stop, and Hongjoong skidded to a halt as well as he squinted down into the alleyway. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to find, but his heart sank to his feet as he unconsciously held his breath, mind clouding in panic as he registered what they had found. 

Bodies, covered in blood. 

Several of them, for no man had been left standing after whatever altercation had occurred here, and Hongjoong nearly missed it when a muted response reached them. “Here,” called the voice, and Hongjoong started forward before he could even register his own movement, for he knew it belonged to Seonghwa. 

His shoes splashed down into wide puddles of blood as he ran closer, and he took note of three dead bodies littering the floor, eyes clouded as they stared towards the sky but saw nothing. He recognized none of them as his own, and his gaze shifted to the remaining two, recognition unable to ease his horror as he stared at the scene. 

Both Wooyoung and Seonghwa were on the ground, and Seonghwa had cradled the smaller boy against his chest, holding him tight and watching them approach from behind Wooyoung’s shoulder. They were covered in blood, and Hongjoong’s mind went wild with all of the ways they could have been hurt. He registered how Wooyoung’s form was shaking violently, Seonghwa’s face fiercely protective, and he stopped a few steps away from them with his arms out to keep the others from rushing forward. Whatever had happened here, both of them weren’t in the right state of mind, and crowding them would only make things worse. 

“What happened?” He breathed, and Seonghwa parted his blood splattered lips to respond, but San ran up behind Hongjoong and interrupted with a wounded cry at the sight of Wooyoung lying motionless on the ground. 

“Is he okay? Why isn’t he looking?” San questioned, his voice bordering on hysterics as he feared what had happened to the boy he had been in love with for years. Seonghwa seemed to clutch onto Wooyoung tighter as a result, and Hongjoong placed a hand on Sam’s elbow, both as a means of comfort and to keep him in place. 

A weary sigh fell from Seonghwa’s lips, and Hongjoong wished to hold him, to cradle him just as he was currently doing to Wooyoung. “He’s okay,” he reassured, and finally Hongjoong was able to let go of the worst of his fear, for he trusted Seonghwa enough to believe him based on the two words alone. “There were three pirates, they beat him up badly until I got here and killed them all. He’s safe now, they’re gone. He’s in a state of shock, once he realized I was here he was able to relax slightly and we’ve been like this ever since.” 

Hongjoong’s heart stuttered as he processed what Seonghwa had just said, glancing frantically at the bodies surrounding them and the weapons left abandoned on the ground before scanning over what he could make out of Seonghwa’s body as well. Those pirates had been twice the size of him - how could he possibly have killed them all on his own? Surely he had acquired injuries in the process, and Hongjoong’s mind clouded with panic as he imagined Seonghwa hiding another grievous wound in order to keep the focus on Wooyoung. 

Seonghwa had assured that the boy in his arms would be okay, but he hadn’t said the same of himself, and Hongjoong felt crippled by his own concern as he wondered how much of the blood at his feet belonged to him. 

“You killed them all - are you okay? They must’ve hurt you too, we need to get you both back to the ship now,” he rambled, the panicked words spilling from his lips, only ceasing when Seonghwa met his eyes. His features drooped with exhaustion, and Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to get them both back to the ship. 

“I’m fine, they didn’t land a hit on me. We do need to get back so I can treat Wooyoung, but it’ll be hard to get him up,” Seonghwa answered, his voice gentle, still trying his best to soothe Hongjoong despite the situation. Concern shifted to awe as he stared at the seemingly delicate man on the ground before him, watching him murmur something inaudible to Wooyoung. To kill three heavily armed, massive pirates with nothing but a blade the length of a finger was unheard of, and he would have struggled to reconcile the soft spoken version of Seonghwa he saw now with the man who had shed so much blood if he hadn't already seen it for himself. 

Seonghwa was an angel of death when he wanted to be, just as ruthless as Hongjoong himself, but he chose to be gentle. The strength in that choice alone was more impressive than any killing blow, and Hongjoong had never respected another man as much as he did Seonghwa. 

He stepped back into another puddle of coagulating blood when Seonghwa separated himself from Wooyoung reluctantly, hunching over to slide an arm under his back and legs. He lifted the boy like he was made of glass, cradling him to his chest as he looked towards Hongjoong. “We should go,” he said, and Hongjoong nodded. 

“The further the sun rises, the more difficult things will be,” he responded, and they set off. Hongjoong had no recollection of how they had made it to this particular cramped alleyway, for it appeared identical to all of the others, but he didn’t let his uncertainty show. He began to take the lead yet again, but before he could do so, Seonghwa had already broken ahead, walking at a brisk pace despite the extra weight in his arms. San hung by his side, unwilling to leave Wooyoung, and Hongjoong started to jog closer to them to help navigate before he realized something strange.

Not a hint of hesitation existed in the firm set of Seonghwa’s shoulders as he weaved his way through the alleys, moving with practiced ease that shouldn’t have been possible. Now that he considered it, Seonghwa must have reached Wooyoung just minutes after he had run off, for he had somehow had enough time to kill three men and comfort Wooyoung out of his panic all while Hongjoong and the others searched for them. 

Seonghwa knew these streets - Hongjoong was sure of it, though he couldn’t fathom how, and he kept pace just behind the man as he spoke. “How do you know these streets so well - you were just running off, and it took us forever to find you. You found him so fast.” 

He heard a shaky exhale before Seonghwa responded, his tone resigned. “I promise, I’ll explain everything once we’re all safe on the ship and away from this city.” This wasn’t an answer by any means, but it was the promise of one, and Hongjoong didn’t press any further. Shortly after, Seonghwa came to an abrupt stop, and Hongjoong could hear the distant crash of the waves. They were close. 

He murmured something to Wooyoung again, and the boy nodded into Seonghwa’s shoulder, allowing himself to be set down on the cobbled ground. Wooyoung looked down at his feet, body still wracked with the occasional tremor, and now that Hongjoong could see parts of his face he wanted to go back to the alley and mutilate those bodies himself. 

Cuts and bruises marred Wooyoung’s skin, his face already swollen unnaturally, though he seemed okay enough to walk as he took his first shaky steps forward. Hongjoong knew he wouldn’t recover from this for a long time, long after the physical wounds healed, and he was grateful for Seonghwa as he supported the boy with a strong arm around his back. He had known how to find Wooyoung before it was too late, and he would help him heal every step of the way. Hongjoong was sure of that. 

They entered the port area again, and this time they stayed together when Seonghwa led them to the ship a different way. Though it took a bit longer, they encountered few other pirates, and when their ship came into view Yeosang and Mingi ran ahead to prepare for immediate sail. Hongjoong hung back as they approached, allowing the others to board the ship before he followed, counting heads to ensure that all eight of them were present. 

Only then did he begin to deflate, stepping onto the deck with a weary sigh despite the early hour. His eyes instantly searched for Seonghwa, only to find that the man had already turned his head back to look his way, sharing a glance. Neither of them spoke, but Hongjoong could tell that Seonghwa was searching for the trust that Hongjoong presented easily a moment later. He trusted Seonghwa to take care of Wooyoung, the boy pressed into his side fully now that they had returned to the ship, and he didn’t feel any of the envy that had ruled his thoughts months ago. 

They both loved the boy, but Hongjoong could let go of the worst of his worries, for he knew that Wooyoung was in capable hands. Hands still covered in the congealed blood of the men he had killed to protect someone he loved. Hands that now held onto Wooyoung with gentle attentiveness, just as capable of comfort as they were of killing. 

Hongjoong trusted Seonghwa more than the other man could ever know, and he watched as Seonghwa found what he had needed in Hongjoong’s gaze before guiding Wooyoung to the cabin, the boy’s trembling hand sliding into his reliable one. They disappeared into the belly of the ship, though neither of them left Hongjoong’s thoughts for the remainder of the day. 

~

After the ship had safely departed the port, Hongjoong spent hours with Yeosang by the wheel determining their route, and his head was pounding by the time he entered the cabin. The wind had frozen his nose, and he cupped his hands over his mouth and nose to blow warm air over the area. He hadn’t heard anything from Seonghwa or Wooyoung, and he went to the infirmary straight away now that his duties were complete for the moment. 

Twisting the doorknob gently, he peered inside once the opening was large enough, a soft smile settling over his lips. They were both asleep on a cot, Seonghwa’s arms wrapped tight around the boy buried into his side, and even in sleep they clutched onto each other, their grips firm. The sight of them finally at ease warmed his heart, and he watched their chests rise and fall for a short time, so similar to that morning. 

If it weren’t for the state of Wooyoung’s face and their bloodstained clothing, no one would have known what they had been through today. Wooyoung appeared so at home in Seonghwa’s arms, none of his former panic still clinging to his features, and that gave Hongjoong hope that he would eventually be okay. 

Seonghwa had resumed his nurturing role, always caring so deeply for those around him, and Hongjoong still struggled to believe that he could flip a switch and wreak so much havoc. To have struggled enough in life to know how to defend himself like that, and to still only resort to those measures when the ones he loved were at risk - it made Hongjoong yearn to understand this man more than ever. He wanted to understand in hopes that perhaps he could change his ways, too. 

Could years of conditioning to become a remorseless killer truly be undone? He had never dared to allow himself to hope before, but he couldn’t deny the tiny flicker of flame that burned steadily inside, one that had been extinguished after five years of life and never relit. Until now, at least, and Hongjoong didn’t think that Seonghwa would ever understand the extent of his own strength. His steady hearth of morality had rekindled Hongjoong’s hope by proximity alone. 

He wanted to know Seonghwa, to know the parts that he kept hidden away, the parts he was ashamed to bring forward into the light. Not to pass judgement, or to store away as future ammunition - not anymore. The true reason he wanted to unveil Seonghwa’s secrets was to love them just as he yearned to love every other part of him. To show him that he was strong because of his scars, not in spite of them. 

His smile turned bittersweet at that, for he found a grim irony in the thought, knowing that he could never believe the same of himself. He didn’t mind, though, for he would buckle under the weight of his memories forever just to relieve Seonghwa of the same burden. 

Eventually, he stepped away from the door and closed it softly, leaving them be to sleep away their earlier distress. 

~

When the sun began to sink below the horizon, Hongjoong headed out to the deck, finding that the others had already gathered there. He approached them, and the confusion must have shown on his face, for Jongho was quick to speak. “We wanted to be out here all together for when Wooyoung and Seonghwa wake up,” he explained, and Hongjoong sat down between Yunho and Yeosang with a nod. 

Their energy tonight was understandably low, and San especially lacked his usual glow, staring down at the deck and tracing a finger over the rough wooden floorboards. “He’s okay, Sannie,’ Hongjoong murmured after a few moments of silence, and the boy looked up at him, the corners of his lips tight. 

“I know - I trust Seonghwa to take good care of him. Without him, we would have been too late.” His breath shuddered, and he shook his head softly. “I just want to hold him. I want to have him in my arms, so I can help him to feel better. Because even if he’s okay physically, I think we all know that he won’t be himself for a while.” He sniffled, and Hongjoong was grateful to Jongho for wrapping an arm around him. 

Colors decorated the sky in burning ribbons, and it wasn’t long before the cabin door finally opened, the last two members of the crew emerging from within. Hongjoong turned his head to watch them approach, their hands intertwined until they came close enough for Wooyoung to pull away and rush forward, San already shooting to his feet. He grabbed Wooyoung in a hug that was so full of the love he had been aching to express, and Hongjoong felt the need to give them privacy as he looked towards Seonghwa instead. 

A tired smile clung to his lips, and Hongjoong purposely shifted over before the man looked in his direction, creating a space between himself and Yeosang that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps he was being selfish, but he wanted to have Seonghwa next to him tonight, and he felt happiness for the first time that day when his wish came true. 

Seonghwa sank to the floor, crossing his legs and addressing the rest of them while Wooyoung and San were in their own world. “His injuries weren’t bad. Just bruises and swelling mostly, and a cracked rib. It could have been a lot worse, but I did what I could to heal him. Most of it will heal on its own,” he informed, and the last of Hongjoong’s worry disappeared. 

He raised his hand to rest on Seonghwa’s shoulder, a gesture he used often when speaking with the rest of the crew, but it felt different when Seonghwa was the one he was touching. Warmth permeated through his clothing, and he had disposed of his other clothes, finally clean of the blood. The bone of his shoulder pressed against Hongjoong’s hand, and lean muscle reinforced the area as well. Why did he find it so fascinating even just to feel the anatomical components of Seonghwa’s body? He had never cared about such things before. 

“Thank you,” he murmured to the man beside him, receiving a gentle nod in return as they looked at each other. The deep orange glow of the sunset turned Seonghwa’s skin into liquid gold, his eyes pools of swirling amber, and Hongjoong wondered how it could be possible for the rest of the universe to pale in comparison to one single person. 

When Wooyoung and San sat back down, their unlikely family sitting in a circle on the deck, Seonghwa was the first to speak. “I think it’s time that I tell you all something, share with you the part of my past that I was too scared to face before. I owe you an explanation for what happened today, and beyond that I just simply can’t hold it in anymore.” His voice was timid, and he inhaled shakily at the prospect of reliving his past, and Hongjoong understood exactly how he felt. 

“You know you can tell us anything, Seonghwa. We won’t ever see you differently,” Yeosang reassured, and Hongjoong murmured an agreement of his own, squeezing Seonghwa’s shoulder in a silent show of support. He figured that the others knew pieces of Seonghwa’s past, for they had always kept that secret from him and urged him to ask for answers himself, but none of them knew the full extent of the trauma he kept hidden. 

“As most of you know, I spent my earliest years doing labor in an inn until I finally decided to run away and fend for myself. I spent most of my life in the streets, surviving from scrap to scrap and learning to defend myself from the people who tried to take advantage of a child,” Seonghwa began, and though none of the rest were shocked by this, Hongjoong could already feel his mind turning. 

After spending weeks deliberating the cryptic pieces of information that he did know, he furrowed his brows now, asking a question of his own. “You said you learned to fight against your will - that is what you meant?” Seonghwa nodded to confirm, and Hongjoong withheld the urge to ask more, understanding how important it was for Seonghwa to speak. Still, his heart ached to imagine Seonghwa as a child, alone and forced to grow up far too quickly in order to survive. He wished they could have found each other sooner, so he could have protected that little boy before the world had forced him to learn how to protect himself. 

“Well, the city I grew up in was the capital.” Hongjoong jerked back at that, his mind making the connections as Seonghwa simultaneously explained them. “I spent most of my life there, but yesterday was the first time I went back in years. I survived in those alleys, I knew all the shortcuts and places to avoid.” Suddenly, everything clicked, and Hongjoong couldn’t control his expression as his jaw slackened. 

Seonghwa’s unexplained shift in demeanor as they approached the capital, his ease while navigating the streets - it all made sense at once. “That was why you were able to get to Wooyoung so fast,” he breathed. 

“Yes, I knew the area just the same as I did back then.” Seonghwa shifted his gaze to look at Wooyoung as he continued. “Wooyoung, when we were in the main merchant strip and I left, it was because I saw a homeless woman. I just couldn’t let her suffer like I did.” He glanced down at the floor, and it took Hongjoong a moment to understand what he had done. The coin pouch that Hongjoong had told Wooyoung to give to him - he had given that to someone else, someone caught in the midst of the suffering that he had endured for most of his life.  

Hongjoong had never been more proud of the man beside him, and pressure gathered behind his eyes as they burned, his lips trembling. He had spent his childhood reading the legends told by the stars, but he had always assumed such selfless acts to be unattainable, only found in stories. And yet Seonghwa - sweet, selfless Seonghwa - hadn’t thought twice about helping someone who needed the coins more than he did. Hongjoong couldn’t look away from him, the radiance of his heart more beautiful than anything physical. 

“You probably changed her life,” Wooyoung said, and Hongjoong couldn’t have agreed more. For years he hadn’t believed that such good could ever exist in a world so cruel, and he was stunned by how one man had changed his mind so completely without any intention of doing so. 

“It was a terrible life, and she was in the throes of it. I had to help her,” Seonghwa continued. “But that is besides the point. I spent most of my life alone, never able to trust anyone. One day, I came across this little girl who had been beaten within an inch of her life, just left for dead in the depths of the city. I knew I shouldn’t help her, that I would just be giving away my own limited resources, but I just couldn’t help it. I nursed her back to health, and in that time that I took care of her, she wormed her way into my cold, dead heart.”

Hongjoong could picture a younger Seonghwa, still too kind for his own good even while struggling to fend for himself, taking someone less capable under his wing. He sensed that this story could only end in tragedy, and his heart already ached for the loss he knew Seonghwa must have suffered, hearing the thinly veiled pain in his voice. 

“I shared my food with her, and we came to be a team. She was small, able to fit in spaces I couldn’t, and because she was a child she could often beg for food successfully. I knew that there was no way it could end well, that caring for someone in such an environment devoid of emotion was a death wish, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve always been soft - it’s my greatest weakness. I can’t turn away from someone in pain, even if I’ll end up dead too.” Seonghwa paused here, and he turned to glance at Hongjoong, a weight to his words as he revealed the one thing that had given him the upper hand while imprisoned in the cell. 

He had identified Hongjoong’s greatest weakness so easily, for that had been the only way for him to hold his own back then, and now here he was offering the secret he had held so close to his chest. Except now, Hongjoong felt no surprise at what he was hearing, because he had seen through to that part of Seonghwa easily after finally swallowing his pride and understanding that he had been wrong. 

In Hongjoong’s eyes, it wasn’t a weakness at all, and he met Seonghwa’s gaze with nothing but understanding. He would treasure what he had learned, and he would keep Seonghwa’s secret safe within his heart, away from any peering eyes. A light blush shaded Seonghwa’s cheeks before he turned away, but Hongjoong continued to watch him, his heart more alive than he had ever imagined it could be. If this was love, then he understood why people fought wars for it, why they were so willing to die for it. 

Seonghwa cleared his throat before continuing, and Hongjoong watched as his quivering lips formed the words, already affected by what was to come. “We lived like that for two seasons - surviving the summer and fall together. It was only once winter came around that we were in trouble, lacking in supplies. We were desperate, and the only plan we could think of was incredibly dangerous. She was to go to the port well before first light, stealing what she could carry from the ships that docked there while I went to cash in a favor.

“There was a struggle, the man trying to back away from the deal we had, and I ended up finishing later than expected, the sky already starting to lighten. We had planned to meet at the edge of the port at sunrise, to avoid the pirates who would be heading back to their ships from a night in the inns. I never felt panic like that in my life - I was running as fast as I possibly could, taking every shortcut, though in my heart I already knew I would be too late,” Seonghwa was looking down at the deck as he spoke, his words choked and thick with moisture, and Hongjoong felt his own eyes well with tears. He understood where this was going - the situation sounded eerily similar to the one from earlier today. Seonghwa had lost himself to his memories when he had realized Wooyoung was gone, and that was the reason why he had run off. 

He had been trying to redeem his past, to correct a failure that had been haunting him for years, and the realization stabbed Hongjoong straight through the chest. The pain of reliving such a memory… he couldn’t imagine what that had been like, and he wanted nothing more than to hold Seonghwa, to let him cry for all that he had lost. 

“I made it to the port, but she wasn’t there. I was calling for her, running through the alleys until I heard her scream. It was awful - I can still hear the sound now.” The tears began to roll down his cheeks now, and Hongjoong watched as they dripped onto the deck and stained the wood, beautiful as liquid moonlight. He wished to catch them in his hands, as if that would make a difference - as if each one contained an infinitesimal amount of the pain Seonghwa had been holding inside all this time. If only he could cradle them in his palms, loving the swirling droplets just as he loved the man they had come from, though he knew they would only ever run through his fingers. “I ran to her, only to find three pirates holding her, sword to her throat.” Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered closed, the sounds of Seonghwa’s hitching breath cutting straight to his soul, and he swore he could feel the pain surrounding the man like a second skin.

“I was begging for them to let her go, offering everything I had, but it was no use.” Seonghwa’s voice broke on the words, breath beginning to take on an erratic pace, and Hongjoong’s chest clenched in concern. Finally shifting his hand away from Seonghwa’s shoulder, he placed it against his back instead, gently rubbing his fingers over his spine. The knobs of his vertebrae felt strange, raised in areas they shouldn’t have been, but he hardly took note of that as he focused on providing what comfort he could.. “They cut her head off, right in front of me. The blood was everywhere, and I was choking on it while I cried, trying to put her body back together.”

Seonghwa began to sob openly then, and Hongjoong had to press his lips together to keep his own composure intact, his fingers trembling against Seonghwa’s back. He had come to love that little girl, and he had watched her die in front of him… Hongjoong’s heart broke for them both, and he inhaled shakily through his nose, blinking back tears of his own. She had been too innocent for a world so cruel. How unfair it was, that life had chosen a gruesome fate for her, never taking into account how little she deserved it. 

He understood now why Seonghwa had panicked during the battle that day, after saving Hongjoong’s life. Blood had splashed into his mouth, and he had tasted the memory of hers. 

“She was dead, just like that. I failed to save her. I’ve never felt such pain in my life, and I was so desperate for revenge against the men who had killed her that I was clawing at them, screaming at the top of my lungs. One of the men brought down his sword, cutting right down to my spine. That’s how I got my scar,” Seonghwa whispered brokenly, and Hongjoong’s hand stilled against his back, the sickening chill of horror descending along his skin as he understood he hadn’t been feeling the vertebrae at all. 

The raised texture along Seonghwa’s back was a scar, and Hongjoong thought back to all the time the man had spent shirtless in the cell, unable to understand how he had never seen it. Grime had covered Seonghwa’s skin, changing the very structure of his face and bones, but Hongjoong had the sinking feeling that maybe that had never been the reason for his ignorance. 

Maybe he had just refused to see it at all, his mind unwilling to recognize the man behind the bars as anything but an enemy. Because if he had allowed himself to see a scar so hideous, he would have faltered in his duty at the time, to keep his crew safe from harm. Little had he known how wrong he had been, and nausea crawled up his throat now as he resumed the movement of his hand, unable to ignore the elevated grooves of abused skin. 

“I woke up days later on a ship, locked up in an infirmary. I was alive, my wound crudely stitched to prevent me from the death that I wanted. That’s why the scar is so ugly now. The pirates had brought me back to their ship, noticing how I had tried to treat the girl and realizing they could benefit from my medical knowledge. That was my old ship - that was how I wound up there, nothing more than a prisoner. My heart was broken beyond repair, and I had no desire to live. Each day I woke up, praying that they would kill me, but it never happened. They beat me, broke my skin and bones, but never gave me what I truly wanted.” 

Hongjoong recalled what Seonghwa had said one of the many times they had raged at one another while he was still a prisoner, and his heart clenched painfully. 

“You really don’t get it, do you? I do not care if you kill me.” 

He had never been bluffing - he had really wanted to die. Seonghwa, the man who seemed to teem with unbridled life, his skin laced with moonshine and his eyes home to galaxies of their own. Until recently, he had yearned for the kiss of death more than the embrace of the living, and the thought made Hongjoong so inexplicably sad. 

They were more similar than he had ever imagined, though he wished that Seonghwa had never been low enough to crave death more than love. For as long as he was alive, Hongjoong would never let him experience that again - he swore it upon the stars, just as they began to twinkle to life above their heads. 

He could sense that Seonghwa was almost finished, his words barely distinguishable through his sobs, face red and shiny. “I spent two years like that, and I learned to hide away my memories, force them down until I was able to avoid them entirely. I never allowed myself to process her loss - never allowed myself to grieve. After that battle, when I killed that man and was covered in his blood, it made all the memories come back. I couldn’t help but be reminded of her blood, and every nightmare I had was of the night she died.

“Today, when Wooyoung was missing, I was swallowed by the memories, the fear of failing yet another person who I came to love against my initial will to keep my heart closed off. When I saw the pirates hurting him, I just - I lost myself completely. I wanted to kill them, wanted to make them hurt. I needed to redeem what I had failed to do all those years ago. You are all so similar to her - I see her in you every day,” he finished, and he made a weak attempt at rubbing his eyes, though he couldn’t command the tears to stop falling. 

Now that the dam had broken, he couldn’t do anything but cry, and Hongjoong continued to rub his back as he watched the man he loved fall apart. Even his darkest parts had only strengthened the feelings Hongjoong had been trying to deny for weeks, but he could no longer do so, and he moved his hand to cup Seonghwa’s chin instead. 

He could feel how the strong bone of his jaw trembled, but Seonghwa still allowed his head to be raised, staring ahead at the crew. Hongjoong hoped that he understood how cherished he was, and he felt the need to say something, to speak some of his thoughts aloud. “Don’t be embarrassed to cry - it is a show of strength to have endured what you did and still allow yourself to feel. The intensity of your weeping is the greatest indicator of the love you hold in your heart - for the little girl you lost, and the piece of you that was lost with her.” 

Seonghwa shifted to look at him as he spoke, and when their eyes met, Hongjoong swore the world stopped for them. He shifted his hand from Seonghwa’s chin to his cheek, wiping away the tears that rolled down the skin before tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. His movements were tender, and Seonghwa closed his eyes, releasing a shuddering breath as he seemed to relax just a little bit. 

The others spoke comforting words of their own, but Hongjoong could only focus on Seonghwa, noticing how he seemed to gather strength from the mere presence of the crew. After being alone for so long, he had found a home on this ship, and Hongjoong had never been more grateful for that. 

“I never wanted to live until I met you all, until you repaired the breaks in my heart,” Seonghwa murmured, and his eyes scanned over all seven of them, brimming with love. “I will be thankful for my time with her until I die, for she taught me how to overcome a life of pain, how to find something bright in a world of darkness. I held onto what I learned from her, and it kept me afloat until I came here. You were the ones to teach me how to truly live, that perhaps not all happiness has to end in pain, and I love you all with everything I have left in my heart.” 

I love you all with everything I have left in my heart. 

The declaration repeated in Hongjoong’s mind, for despite all Seonghwa had lost, he still willingly gave what love he had left. It made him think of his own heart, blackened and scarred since birth, but perhaps that didn’t matter as much as he had always thought. 

As he looked at the man at his side, taking note of the red tip of his nose and the continued hitch of his breath as his lips twitched into a watery smile, Hongjoong knew one thing above all else. His heart may have been a shriveled, ugly thing, but it still belonged to Seonghwa.

He had loved Seonghwa before learning the truth of his past, and he would continue to love him for as long as he was alive. And even after that, Hongjoong’s soul would claw its way through the earth out of the hell where he belonged to find him again, for every divine being paled in comparison to the one he had been destined to find. 

Chapter Text

The next few weeks consisted of nothing but sailing onwards, leaving the capital and its port behind as they traveled deeper into the open sea, not a single other ship in sight. They were constantly on guard due to the news of the military order, and Hongjoong especially was haunted by the thought of his father’s ship looming just beyond the horizon. He spent time out on the deck more than anywhere else, constantly searching for the silhouette of danger, though he had yet to see anything other than blue skies and churning seas. 

Lookout shifts had been evenly distributed among the eight of them, and though most of them chose to perch up in the crow’s nest for the best vantage point, both Mingi and Seonghwa were too afraid of heights to do so. Instead, they usually watched from the upper deck, close to the railing as they kept their eyes peeled. Of course the shifts weren’t terribly exciting for most of the crew, but Hongjoong rather enjoyed that time. He liked to take his shifts at night, looking up at the stars and contemplating everything he was too afraid to confront during the day. 

Seonghwa had changed since revealing the full truth of his past, his steps lighter and his smile easier despite the tension that clouded the ship, the weight of his memories no longer chaining him down. He had freed himself from those metaphorical shackles, and Hongjoong couldn’t have been more happy for him, his energy infectious whenever they were in the same room. 

Things had shifted between the two of them as well - not explicitly, but their former awkwardness had finally diminished for the most part, and for that Hongjoong was incredibly grateful. He had made a fool of himself too many times to count, and he was surprised that Seonghwa still liked him after all of that, for he cringed whenever he remembered those moments. Now they could at least speak to each other without stuttering and stumbling over their words, and they actively sought each other out a lot of the time, which never ceased to make Hongjoong’s heart inflate with joy. 

His own feelings were hardly obscured, for all of the others had caught on and teased him immensely by now, but Hongjoong didn’t really know where Seonghwa stood in that regard. He wondered if the man could ever feel the same way, but he didn’t let the thought consume him, for as long as they had this time to spend together he wouldn’t waste it. After all, he didn’t know how much time they had left. 

Since the news concerning the navy, Hongjoong had struggled with sleep even more than normal, and he woke up several times each night to check on his crew in their quarters just to ease the irrational fears that ran rampant in his mind when he was alone. Logically, he knew that his father would never make it onto this ship undetected, but his fear defied logic when he lay there alone in the dark. 

One night, he tiptoed down the hallway towards the crew quarters, keeping his steps silent until he came to a stop outside of the door. Jongho was out on lookout duty, but the rest of them would be inside, and he peeked through a small gap in the door as his eyes scanned over their beds. All of his friends occupied their own bunks aside from Wooyoung, who was snoring alongside San, and Hongjoong frowned as he realized that Seonghwa was missing. 

He wasn’t alarmed, for there were plenty of reasons why he could have left the room in the middle of the night, but he still went off in search of Seonghwa anyway. As he made his way down the hall, his eyes fell upon a sliver of light cast over the floor from the small gap under the infirmary door, and he wondered why Seonghwa would be in there. Hoping that he hadn’t hurt himself, Hongjoong opened the door, making a bit of purposeful noise so he wouldn’t startle the man inside. 

Sure enough, Seonghwa stood by the back wall of the room, and he appeared to be organizing the medical supplies within the storage bins and scattered along the carts, though he turned when he heard the door open. Hongjoong didn’t understand why he had chosen to do this in the middle of the night, but he didn’t press for answers as his lips curved softly, closing the door behind him. 

“Hey,” he greeted, and Seonghwa raised his hand in a weak attempt at a wave, his returning smile not quite reaching his eyes. Hongjoong’s expression began to fall as he realized that something was wrong, and as he stepped forward he noted how Seonghwa’s shoulders slumped, the light catching upon moisture on his cheeks. Furrowing his brows, Hongjoong quickly crossed the room, his gaze scanning over Seonghwa’s body and face. “Are you alright?” 

Seonghwa looked down at the supplies in front of him instead of turning to face Hongjoong, and he shrugged his shoulders as he fiddled with a bottle of alcohol. Irritated skin surrounded his nails, evidence that he must have been picking at it, and Hongjoong’s heart sank. “It’s nothing. I just needed to clear my head, so I came in here. These supplies are a mess, anyway, and I’ve been meaning to reorganize.” 

His voice was thick with exhaustion, because he normally would have been fast asleep at this time, and Hongjoong softened even further as he stepped between Seonghwa and the supplies, forcing their eyes to meet. “It isn’t nothing,” he murmured, raising his arm to brush a thumb over the drying tear tracks on the man’s face, the skin slightly sticky. “You’re upset. Are you having nightmares again?” 

He received a shake of the head in response, and now that they were looking at each other, Seonghwa seemed unable to tear his eyes away, desperate for the comfort he had tried to prevent himself from wanting. “What’s bothering you?” Hongjoong asked again, concern pooling in his gut, and he knew it must have shown on his face as well, for Seonghwa’s lips began to tremble. He spent so much time being a pillar for the others that it seemed like he didn’t know how to accept comfort for himself, and Hongjoong swallowed down his sorrow at the thought, for he knew how it felt to yearn for comfort while simultaneously struggling to accept that he was deserving.

“It’s not important,” Seonghwa mumbled, but Hongjoong’s stare didn’t relent, and eventually he gave in with a weary sigh. “I just - does it ever make you sad? That cruel things happen to kind people?” He swallowed audibly, throat constricting and garbling his next words. “Wooyoung has been having nightmares every night, and he fell asleep with San this time, but I just couldn’t sleep afterwards. It was a bad one, and the pain in my chest just won’t go away, and I can’t stop thinking about it. He doesn’t deserve to be haunted by the terrible thing that happened to him.” 

Neither did you. Hongjoong wanted to say it, but he chose not to, for he knew Seonghwa wasn’t saying these things in relation to himself. He probably didn’t even understand how the words described him as well, and that made Hongjoong’s own heart ache. “Of course it makes me sad,” he answered, and he could hear the strain in his own voice. “But nothing about this life has ever been fair, and if we spend too much time wishing that it could be, we will never enjoy the parts that we do deserve.” 

“I know,” Seonghwa breathed, and he closed his eyes for a moment, tension heavy in the lines of his face. “But I never care when it’s me, you know? Pain was all I knew for a really long time, so it feels familiar when I am consumed by it again, as awful as it sounds. But I just hate that I can’t take Wooyoung’s pain onto myself, because I would do it in a heartbeat. I know how to deal with it, but he doesn’t.” 

Hongjoong pressed his lips together, not trusting himself to speak right away. He felt like Seonghwa’s words had been snatched straight from his own mind, and he exhaled a slow breath, trying to express himself correctly. “I understand, because I am much the same,” he admitted, and when he looked into Seonghwa’s eyes he could only see his own reflection staring back. “But we cannot control the violent, beautiful wrath of life. To hurt is to live, and Wooyoung is stronger than he knows. He will be okay.” 

The assertion was firm, and Seonghwa seemed to cling to the words, nodding and beginning to deflate as he received the reassurance he had needed. “When did you get so poetic?” he asked with an unsteady smile. 

When I came to know you, Hongjoong thought, his heart warming as the familiar sparkle began to return to Seonghwa’s eyes. “Oh, I don’t know,” he mused aloud, grateful for the lightening tension. “I’d like to think I’ve always been something of a poet. I’m quite refined, you know.” He winked, and Seonghwa pushed at his chest, a tinkling laugh escaping his lips. 

“You’re an idiot,” he replied, and Hongjoong had never been happier to be insulted. 

~

Once they had been sailing away from the capital for long enough, Hongjoong called for a maintenance stop, for they would need the ship to be in the best possible condition if they wanted to hold their own against the navy vessels hunting them. Not that it really mattered when he considered what they would be up against, but he tried not to think about how inevitable their loss would be. He had grown up on those ships, after all - they were essentially tanks of the sea, and his wooden ship would never stand a chance against that kind of artillery. 

They would have needed to stop eventually, and he would rather do it now while the horizon was empty, though that didn’t lessen his nerves in the slightest. Hongjoong fully intended to spend most of the day out on the deck while Mingi worked, keeping an eye out for the vessels that haunted his sleepless nights, but first he grabbed a late lunch from the cafeteria, looking over his maps while he ate. 

When he was finished he opened the door and stepped outside of the cafeteria, already setting a brisk pace, but he collided with another person who had been coming down the hall as soon as he exited the room. The maps in his hands fell to the floor as Hongjoong stumbled back, losing his footing and falling as well, head spinning as he tried to regain his breath. His elbow smashed painfully into the wall, and he winced as he forced himself to sit upright, eyes landing on the man he had walked into as he got back to his feet. 

A sheepish smile came over Hongjoong’s lips at the sight of Seonghwa struggling to his feet as well, his cheeks warming as he noted the windswept condition of Seonghwa’s hair, his skin bitten by the chill. He must have come from the deck, and he stared back at Hongjoong before looking away, a pretty blush shading his cheeks as well. “Sorry,” Seonghwa blurted. “I was heading to the infirmary and I wasn’t paying enough attention…” He glanced back up shyly, everything about him endearing. 

Hongjoong’s mind caught on the mention of the infirmary, and he took a step closer, raising a brow. “Are you hurt?” Nothing seemed to be visibly amiss, though he did note how Seonghwa had twisted his hands together, almost like he was cradling one of his fingers. 

“No, I just fell back but it didn’t hurt that much,” Seonghwa answered honestly, and Hongjoong’s smile grew as he laughed lightly, shaking his head as his heart grew fonder. 

Seonghwa’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he clarified the reason for his laughter. “I don’t mean from the fall - you said you were heading to the infirmary, I was wondering if you were hurt out on the deck with Mingi.” 

“Oh, um, nothing serious. I just hit myself with a hammer,” Seonghwa blurted, sticking his hand out to display his rapidly swelling thumb, and Hongjoong’s amusement fell away at the sight of the injury. His entire thumb was bright red, already turning a deeper purple in spots, and it looked painful. 

Hongjoong reached out to grasp Seonghwa’s extended hand gently within his own, the skin around the wounded area hot to the touch. “Seonghwa, this looks pretty serious to me! Why on earth were you using the hammer anyway?” He continued to observe the thumb with his eyes, not wanting to touch it for fear of causing any more pain, and Seonghwa tried to pull his hand away unsuccessfully as he squirmed under the attention. 

“It’s fine, it barely hurts anymore anyway. I was just helping Mingi with something, but I wasn’t paying attention,” he explained, and Hongjoong did eventually release his hand, for he knew that he was being a bit ridiculous to fret over such a simple injury. Though he was worried, he mostly acted that way to garner a reaction, for Seonghwa was rather fun to tease. 

When Seonghwa continued to walk towards the infirmary, Hongjoong fell into step beside him, his original plan to go to the deck abandoned now that he had been confronted by more interesting prospects. “Don’t you have things to be doing, captain?” Seonghwa asked innocently, and Hongjoong scowled. He knew the term was only being used in a teasing manner, but he hated it - he liked to hear Seonghwa say his name. 

“Is it wrong of me to make sure my crew member is okay?” he grumbled, though he found it difficult not to smile when Seonghwa wore a grin of his own. 

“I suppose not,” Seonghwa replied, and Hongjoong followed him into the infirmary, his steps light. He enjoyed watching Seonghwa work, and even though he knew that he could offer little help, he still pulled himself up onto a cot to keep him company. Swinging his legs, his eyes followed Seonghwa as he meandered around the room, gathering supplies and staying resolutely focused on his task. 

Hongjoong found his focus to be adorable, and it reminded him of the other time he had followed Seonghwa to this same room, back when their relationship had been very different. The other man hadn’t been thrilled by his presence then, and Hongjoong smiled now as he recalled how Seonghwa had pulled his stitches tighter than necessary, his own small way of striking back. He had been so strong even then, and the defiance that used to drive Hongjoong wild was now one of the many things he had come to love. 

He remembered what he had said before storming out of the infirmary that day, and though he had meant it differently at the time, he supposed that he had been right. 

Something has to give eventually. 

Except he had been the one to fold first, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be bothered by it anymore, so smitten with the man who now headed back in his direction with the supplies. Seonghwa chose to set himself up right beside where Hongjoong sat on the cot, spreading out a piece of cloth to rest his hand on. Under the bright light of the infirmary, the purpling skin was now fully illuminated, and Hongjoong winced at the blood that had gathered beneath the nail. 

He didn’t fully understand what Seonghwa was doing, but he watched anyway as he tested the movement of the joint, jaw clenching against the pain he must have felt. Still, he was able to form a complete fist, and Hongjoong figured that had to be a good sign. 

“Nothing is broken,” Seonghwa confirmed a moment later, looking up with brows raised. Only then did Hongjoong realize that he had leaned over far enough to block the overhead light, and he sat back with a relieved sigh, grateful that the wound hadn’t been worse. 

Unable to sit still, he poked Seonghwa in the leg with the tip of his boot to regain his attention, though he knew he shouldn’t have been disturbing his focus. “How do you even know all this stuff?” he asked, for though Seonghwa had mentioned nursing the little girl back to health while living on the streets, he hadn’t explained how he had gained so much medical knowledge. 

Seonghwa hummed as he unwrapped a bandage, his lips pursed in concentration. “Well, I stole a book about it when I was still a kid, because I was pretty desperate to learn how to treat my own injuries. I could never leave anything that was hurting behind, whether it be a person or an animal, and I spent a lot of time treating the stray cats and dogs that I came across in the back alleys of the city. Then, on my old ship, I applied a lot of the knowledge to different types of battle injuries, and here I am now.” He shrugged as he wrapped his thumb, like none of it was a big deal. 

The image of Seonghwa as a child taking care of stray dogs and cats despite his limited resources made his heart ache, though it came as no surprise after seeing how selfless this man could be. Seonghwa shifted to allow Hongjoong a better view as he worked, his fingers moving expertly over the bandages. “I suppose that makes sense, though you must be very smart to have learned it all on your own,” Hongjoong complimented, and he meant every word, a ball of liquid sun forming in his stomach when Seonghwa ducked his head to hide his pleased smile. 

Seonghwa made him feel warm from the inside out, and for the first time in his life the feeling extended to his heart as well, illuminating the love that he wished so desperately to hold onto. They fell into a comfortable silence after that, and Hongjoong watched Seonghwa as he always did. He noticed everything, simply because everything was worth noticing when it came to him.

Hongjoong noticed how his lips were slightly more chapped than normal today, because of the time spent outside with Mingi. The skin of his cheeks had grown rounder recently, for he had finally begun to gain back the healthy weight he had lost during his time spent as a prisoner, the hard angles of his face softening. Scars decorated every visible part of his skin, like a canvas that had been painted by life itself. 

He lost himself in all of it, until Seonghwa finally taped his bandage into place and discarded the scraps left over. Hongjoong slid down from the cot to deposit his maps in his quarters, but he still lingered in the room, waiting for Seonghwa so that they could leave together. Even though they weren’t headed to the same place, he wanted to prolong their time together for even just a few seconds more. 

After all, he didn’t know how many seconds they had left. 

They departed the infirmary when Seonghwa fell into step beside Hongjoong, parting to head their separate ways soon after, Seonghwa going back out to the deck while Hongjoong stopped by his quarters. On his way there, however, he nearly bumped into someone else, managing to stop himself this time before they both went sprawling to the floor. Yunho had emerged from the crew quarters, and at the sight of Hongjoong he raised a brow, lips curling into a smirk. “What are you so happy about?” he asked, and Hongjoong tilted his head in confusion. 

“Nothing, I just came from the infirmary with Seonghwa, I need to drop my maps off-” he began to explain, but Yunho nodded in understanding before he could finish, nudging Hongjoong’s shoulder. 

“You and Seonghwa?” Hongjoong nodded, already internally groaning as Yunho’s entire face lit up. “I really am so smart. I swear, I knew it since the very beginning,” Yunho boasted, and Hongjoong’s eyes nearly rolled right out of their sockets. He continued to head for his quarters, but Yunho followed right at his heels, and he found that he didn’t enjoy walking beside this companion nearly as much. 

“You’re so full of shit. No one ever believes you when you say that,” Hongjoong responded flatly, for this was far from the first time he had been forced into this conversation. “Also, literally nothing happened. He was just putting a bandage on his thumb, and I kept him company because I’m nice. That’s all.” 

Yunho laughed loudly, and Hongjoong really hoped that Seonghwa had already made it out to the deck, because he would die from embarrassment if he overheard this. “Let me guess - he was just minding his business with his bandages or whatever, and you were staring at him like he created the sun, and the sea, and every other beautiful thing in this world. And he still probably had no idea, the poor thing. I swear, he’s so adorable.” 

Face burning, Hongjoong used one of his rolled up maps to smack Yunho right in the face, relishing in the surprised cry that fell from the first mate’s lips. “I hope you know that after all those times I threatened to demote you from your position, this is the closest I’ve ever been to actually doing it. Don’t call him a ‘poor thing,’ like being the object of my affections is such a terrible position to be in!” 

All that did was make Yunho laugh harder, hunching over as he held his stomach, and Hongjoong secretly loved seeing him laugh like this. He refused to let that show, however, instead feigning a scowl and reaching for the door to his quarters, eager to make his escape. Before stepping inside, he called one last thing over his shoulder. “You don’t even know how adorable he is!” 

Howling laughter pierced through the door, and Hongjoong smiled to himself now that he was alone, raising a hand to touch his fingers to his lips. He wanted to trace the expression, to remember how it felt to feel like this, in hopes that he would still remember when his father came for him. 

~

That same night, Hongjoong tossed and turned in his bed like always, consumed by thoughts of his father. His cold sweat soaked through his sheets, and he had left his lights on, too afraid to confront what could be lurking in the dark. He felt like a child all over again, and though he wished to sleep, he didn’t want to revisit his past while sleeping. Every night, he had been reliving different moments of his father’s abuse, even ones he didn’t actively remember during the day. Ones he had repressed due to their horror. 

Eventually he couldn’t stand being enclosed in his room anymore, and he decided to go out to the deck instead. Partially to look up at the sky and clear his mind, but also because he knew that Seonghwa was on lookout duty, and he always chose to sit on the upper deck. He could probably benefit from some company too, and Hongjoong was more than willing to offer that. 

He strode down the hall and through the cabin door, the chill of night cutting through to his bones as soon as he stepped out onto the deck. Seonghwa had been lying back against the floorboards, but as he heard the door open he sat up, turning his head to look in Hongjoong’s direction. His figure was cloaked in darkness from here, but as Hongjoong walked closer he could make out the man’s face, his heart skipping a beat. 

The strands of hair that hung down over his forehead were black as night, a contrast to the pale glow of his skin, bathed in the half moonlight. His eyes watched Hongjoong approach, shining despite the darkness, such a contrast to how displeased he had been the first time Hongjoong had interrupted his time alone out here. “Hey,” Hongjoong said softly. 

Seonghwa nodded his own greeting, and Hongjoong hoisted himself onto the upper deck, both of them laying back down with their backs flat against the floor. The sky stretched out above them, and he felt completely at ease. “How’s your thumb?” He asked, and Seonghwa raised his hand up from where it rested against the deck, showing him the bandaged area. 

“It’s okay, doesn’t hurt much anymore,” he answered, flexing the digit to emphasize the point. Hongjoong was pleased to hear it, for he hated seeing Seonghwa in any kind of pain, even if just from a swollen thumb. Setting his hand back down, Seonghwa turned his head to look back up at the sky, though Hongjoong didn’t do the same. Why would he look at the sky, when the man beside him was more beautiful than all of the galaxies above? 

A contented sigh left his lips, and he felt more relaxed now than he had all night. “I couldn’t fall into a deep sleep, and I knew you’d be out here,” he explained to clarify why he had come out here in the first place, and Seonghwa hummed easily in response, something he did often. “You do that a lot,” Hongjoong observed, and Seonghwa glanced at him in confusion, so he clarified quickly. “Humming, I mean. When you help Wooyoung with dinner, or when you insist on cleaning around the ship, you always hum.”

Hongjoong had noticed him doing it a lot more since he had revealed his past, and he always listened to the melodies he produced, whether they were cheery or melancholy or somewhere in between. Perhaps he had learned the songs somewhere before his imprisonment, or maybe he created them as he went, but either way Hongjoong hoped he would never stop. 

“I suppose I hum when I’m content, I don’t even mean to do it most times,” he said in return, voice soft, and Hongjoong nodded. The answer pleased him greatly, for Seonghwa hummed in his presence often, and that had to stand for something. 

“So, you’re content to be out here with me, then?” Hongjoong asked, and though he had meant the words to be somewhat teasing, he found no trace of that in his voice. He realized that he did want a real answer, because he was through with being too shy to show Seonghwa how much he cared. Little time remained to be wasted, and he never wanted Seonghwa to question how he had felt all along. 

“Yes,” Seonghwa answered after a few seconds, and Hongjoong could already feel his lips begin to curve. “Things are much different now, don’t you think?” The question made Hongjoong chuckle, and he shifted his arm to the side just far enough for their hands to brush against each other, wondering if perhaps something would shift this night. From the way Seonghwa acted around him, he knew that the man cared for him in return, and he felt suddenly bold despite how his mind screamed at him to pull away. This could only end in agony, but he struggled to focus on that when his hands yearned to caress Seonghwa’s skin, all of the love he held inside desperate to be set free. 

“I’m content out here with you too, you know,” he answered, and they both understood how far they had come, how different this meeting beneath the stars was in comparison to the first. Things were surely different, that much could be said for sure. Hongjoong wasn’t sure just how different, but he had an inkling feeling that he wasn’t alone in his desires. 

“Last time, I came out here for a reason, though from the way things went I’m sure it wasn’t clear. I was content to sit with you then, too,” he continued and Seonghwa finally looked away from the night sky, fixing his eyes on Hongjoong at the unexpected words. “I just - I know it didn’t seem like it from the way I acted, but I had intended to apologize that night. But I didn’t understand you yet, I didn’t know of your past, and I was easily distracted by yet another argument, saying things I didn’t mean.”

Hongjoong knew this would only confuse Seonghwa, because the way he had acted that night had been far from apologetic, but he felt the need to clarify that he hadn’t just gone out to the deck to argue. Seonghwa had still gotten under his skin so easily back then, and his intentions had derailed within moments, but he wanted the man to know that he had been remorseful even before learning that Seonghwa had been a prisoner on his old ship. As expected, Seonghwa’s lips drew down in puzzlement, and Hongjoong explained further.

“You removed my stitches that day, remember? Your hand cramped up, and I said something rude because I didn’t realize what was happening. Once I knew, I guess it hit me that you were treating my injury with the same hand that I’d thrown a knife through. I didn’t want to think about it, but it kept occupying my mind, that perhaps I was the one in the wrong. I got caught up in my own anger, however, and when you left that night I stayed out here for hours, just turning over what you’d said in my mind.”

Hongjoong shifted his hand again so that he could gently wrap his fingers around Seonghwa’s wrist, the joint so fragile beneath his calloused palm, his skin made from silk. He raised it into the moonlight to illuminate the scar that marred both sides of Seonghwa’s hand, carved by a cursed blade, the familiar guilt again blocking Hongjoong’s throat. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve already apologized, and I do not mean to undermine your forgiveness, but I am sorry for the damage I did to you, the scars that linger still. Yunho told me once that you believe all scars hold stories, whether they be emotional or physical, but I am truly sorry for the parts of those stories that were written by my hand.”

No silence followed his words, for Seonghwa had already begun to respond, shaking his head firmly. “All scars come from painful, negative things. They wouldn’t leave such a lasting impact otherwise, and I believe it is important to change your perception of them rather than letting the pain fester long after the wound has healed. Do not apologize for the scars you created, for I don’t view them negatively anymore.” He spoke so simply, but Hongjoong struggled for breath in the aftermath, again left awed by this man lying beside him. 

He couldn’t imagine viewing his own scars in anything but a negative light, and he choked out his next question, voice no louder than a whisper. “How do you view them now?” His eyes still lingered on the thick, ridged scar on Seonghwa’s hand, unable to understand how Seonghwa could care for him while condemned to wear the reminder of his cruelty forever.

“Without these scars, I wouldn’t have ended up where I am now. I wouldn’t appreciate our civility the way I do now if we hadn’t started from where we did. The memory of the pain makes the happiness far brighter,” he mused, voice soft, and Hongjoong wished he could have given all of his words the attention they deserved. Unfortunately, his mind had caught on a single one, and his heart sank down through the floor. 

After all of the things Hongjoong had said and done in recent days, the silent looks the two of them had shared while surrounded by the others, able to read each other’s thoughts with just a glance, he had expected something different. In all his years, Hongjoong had never had the privilege of being naive, but he realized now that perhaps that wasn’t true after all. 

He had been naive enough to think that Seonghwa would say the word love, not ‘civility.’

“So you only see this as civility?” He asked, setting Seonghwa’s hand back down on the deck, for he suddenly felt incredibly insecure. Had he been reading everything wrong this entire time? That had to be impossible - Seonghwa had reciprocated every interaction, had worn blushes and smiles of his own, but he could make no sense of it now. He turned to look into Seonghwa’s eyes, but he found nothing different there - they shone just the same, and Hongjoong knew that was a look of love no matter what the man had said. 

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Seonghwa responded, frowning as he seemed to ponder his own answer. Hongjoong wondered if perhaps he didn’t even understand his own feelings, and that made his heart soften, some of his worry slipping away. “I don’t know a lot about where lines are drawn between people.” 

Of course he didn’t - how could he possibly know, when he had raised himself on the streets just to be thrown in a cell for years? Seonghwa hadn’t known what a consistent relationship with another person felt like until he had bonded with the rest of the crew, and it only made sense that he would know nothing of romantic love. The thought made Hongjoong sad, but mostly endeared, for Seonghwa was so emotionally intelligent and stunted at the same time. 

No wonder he was oblivious to Hongjoong’s advances, and all of the jokes made by their friends, for he probably couldn’t even tell how Hongjoong’s feelings for him differed from the rest. And Hongjoong couldn’t even find it in himself to be bothered by it, for wasn’t that just another part of this man he loved? He would love this part too, just like all of the rest, even if it meant he would never get to express the full extent of his own feelings. 

Maybe that was for the best, anyway. It felt wrong for Hongjoong to yearn to be loved in return, when Seonghwa only knew him on the surface. He knew nothing of the monstrous parts that hid beneath, and Hongjoong would only ever be able to accept the love of another if it extended to the monster inside of him as well, for no one in their right mind would dare to stick around after knowing that. 

For Seonghwa, he would sit outside the door to his heart like a stray dog caught in a downpour, bringing him the carcasses of all the things he had killed, for that was the only twisted love he had ever known. His father had only withheld his fists when Hongjoong had killed upon command, and the old dog within him hadn’t learned any new tricks. 

“I would consider us to be friends, at the very least,” Hongjoong countered, for he would be happy with that. He would be happy with anything Seonghwa was willing to give him, and his heart stilled as he waited for a response, desperate to be loved by this man in any way he could manage.

“Very well, then. Perhaps we are friends,” Seonghwa agreed, and a grin broke over Hongjoong’s face, his mind clearing as he latched onto that. He settled back down, no longer as tense as before, and the heaviness of their conversation following Hongjoong’s apology diminished. They were both content to lay there, and neither of them spoke for a little while. 

Eventually, Hongjoong broke the silence, feeling a strange desire to be completely candid. Perhaps it was the half moon up above, equally split into light and dark parts, luring him further into honesty just as the moon itself would wax until completely full of light. Still, the moon could only ever appear illuminated because of the existence of the sun, and Hongjoong understood that as well, for he had only ever felt bright while reflected in the light of someone else.

On his own, he was no more than a cratered sphere of rock, rough and blotted out by darkness. 

“I was scared of you, you know,” he admitted, though he knew the point came out of nowhere. He kept taking Seonghwa by surprise with his words, and his expressions were adorable, brows furrowed and lips downturned at the corners. 

“Why would you be scared of me - I couldn’t have hurt a fly in my state,” he wondered, and Hongjoong couldn’t believe that he didn’t know his own power. 

He shook his head, fondness present in even the darkest corners of his heart. “No, it was not due to your physicality, though I also found that quite scary when I saw you fight for the first time. You were the only person in all my life to see through my facade like it was nothing. You didn’t even know the first thing about me, not even my name at that point, but it was like you could see all my fears, my weaknesses with a single glance.” And now, Seonghwa’s ability to see right through him was one of his favorite things about their bond. 

“I scoffed then at the thought of us being similar, thinking us to be incredibly different, but I understand it now. I was only able to read you because your facade was the same as mine,” Seonghwa responded, and Hongjoong knew that to be true now too, grateful for their similarities after everything. 

“If I’m similar to someone as strong as you, then I’ve already won,” he remarked in a teasing tone, if only to make Seonghwa laugh, for he would have spoken the same words in earnest as well. A pretty blush covered the apples of Seonghwa’s cheeks, and he smacked Hongjoong’s shoulder, tingles spreading along his bare skin underneath the clothes. They didn’t fight anymore, but they still knew how to push each other’s buttons. 

Hongjoong finally looked away from Seonghwa and up at the sky, and he sensed it when his companion did the same, both of them just soaking in the sight of the universe that stretched above them. They had managed to find each other despite being just tiny blips in a massive system of so much more, and Hongjoong wondered if fate was real after all. 

“People always say the thought of the unfathomable universe is scary, but I think it’s comforting,” Seonghwa mused after a short while, and Hongjoong glanced over at him, though his eyes were firmly trained on the ribbons of stars above their heads. 

After spending his childhood drawing his only comfort from the stars, Hongjoong understood exactly what he meant. “I always felt that way too, actually. No matter how trapped I’ve felt in my life, how misunderstood, looking out into the darkness that never seems to end was reassuring - like even the universe doesn’t know its own future.”

Seonghwa pondered that for a moment, expression thoughtful. “I’d like to think the universe isn’t clouded by the same things humans are. Like it sees us all through an unfiltered lens, just our raw human states and nothing more. That it sees the potential in people, maybe even before they see it themselves.”

Hearing him speak of the universe was almost like looking in a mirror, Hongjoong’s own inner thoughts being spoken aloud by his reflection. Hongjoong couldn’t help but wonder, if that were true and the universe could see such potential, what it would see when it looked at the two of them on the deck. Would the universe see a tragedy, or would it still be able to hope?

“I think I agree with that, you know. People come from all kinds of places, but we’re all the same on a human level. Take our crew for example - everyone is so different, but yet I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he said, and he meant every word. He was grateful that the universe had brought them together, his mismatched family that he wouldn’t trade for the world. 

Hongjoong always thought about things like this while staring up at the sky through the window in his room, but it felt nice to talk to someone else who was just as willing to contribute to the random stream of thoughts, rather than dismissing it. The night was truly beautiful, but not as much as the company it kept. 

The brightest star in the sky twinkled down at them, and Hongjoong smiled softly. “Polaris is particularly bright tonight,” he commented offhandedly, for his eyes always found Polaris, a habit of his since he was a child. With no true concept of home, he had relied on the north star instead, hoping that it would guide him one day to a place where he actually belonged. 

“The North Star?” Seonghwa asked, though he sounded unsure. Hongjoong pointed up at the sky, though he realized that Seonghwa would never be able to pick out the one pinprick of light he was looking at amidst the millions of others. 

Still, he tried his best to explain, the astronomy knowledge spilling from his lips easily after spending so much of his time with the night skies as his only companion. “It’s the one star that never shifts, directly above us. You can find nearly all the constellations if you know the location of that one star.”

“How do you know where it is?” Seonghwa whispered, staring up at the enormity of the galaxy overhead before turning to face Hongjoong, their faces mere inches apart as they looked at each other with breaths mingling. For just a second, Hongjoong wondered what it would be like to close that gap, to feel Seonghwa’s lightly chapped lips against his own.

“Well, I can show you. But we need to be looking from the same point, otherwise it won’t work,” Hongjoong said, turning back to look at the sky and shifting his head over until it was touching against the side of Seonghwa’s, trying to ignore the racing of his heart. Their shoulders were now pressed against each other, the tiny space that had once existed there now gone, and he could feel the warmth of Seonghwa’s skin through their clothing. He would be lying if he said that he had only gotten this close for the purpose of stargazing - there were plenty of other ways to teach the constellations, but Seonghwa didn’t have to know that. 

“Polaris is true north - the one point that never changes. That’s how we know where to sail, which direction to go. The easiest way to find it is by finding the big dipper and following the line created by two of its stars, as they point straight at Polaris,” Hongjoong spoke softly, reaching his arm up to point at the sky. “Follow my finger until you can see the big dipper - it looks like a bowl with a long handle.”

Seonghwa stared at where Hongjoong was pointing with narrowed eyes, his lip caught between his teeth in concentration, but Hongjoong could do nothing but stare at him. His face was set with determination, and he lit up when he finally found what he had been looking for. “I see it!” He exclaimed excitedly, and Hongjoong wished to remember him like this forever. 

Wearing a wide smile of his own, Hongjoong prepared to move his finger again, delighted to be sharing his knowledge of the constellations with the man he loved. “Okay, so find the two stars that make up the edge of the bowl part and follow them along with my finger, until you see that bright star. It makes up its own pattern, called the little dipper. Polaris is part of the handle.”

He watched again as Seonghwa searched the skies, taking this very seriously. “I see it,” he repeated, and pride swelled in Hongjoong’s chest. “How do you know how to find it so well?” He asked the question innocently, unaware of the depth to the answer, the layers beneath what should have been a simple thing. 

Setting his hand back down by his side, Hongjoong focused on the warmth of Seonghwa’s body beside him, drawing strength from it. “There’s a lot I won’t go into, but it was an escape for me as a child. I had a ton of star maps, and I taught myself to find all of the constellations I could, learning about their stories and how they had gotten their titles. It was an escape, one I still indulge in frequently. My quarters have a window that I’ve spent many sleepless nights sat in front of, greeting all of my old friends up in the stars.” He hoped that Seonghwa couldn’t detect the sorrow in his voice, for they were having such a lovely night together, and he would hate for his personal darkness to ruin that. 

However, Seonghwa’s response was perhaps the last thing he expected to hear, and he forgot about the mention of his past entirely. “So all this time - all the nights we’ve sat out here as a crew, when Mingi starts spewing nonsense about the constellations - you knew where all of them were the whole time?” Hongjoong laughed at that, for Seonghwa always seemed to know the right thing to say. 

Mingi liked to pride himself on being the worst astronomer to ever live, and Hongjoong wanted to let him have the spotlight during those times, preferring to laugh along with the others. “I enjoy watching him make a fool of himself. Although, he’s almost been right a few times,” Hongjoong said, his tone somber as if this were grave information. Muffling his laughter, Seonghwa looked over at him, his face alight with unrestrained joy. 

“Tell me a story, then. One of your favorites,” he requested, and Hongjoong didn’t need any time to choose one, for only one legend came to mind when he looked at the man beside him. Even though he was no longer helping Seonghwa to trace the patterns in the stars, they still remained pressed up against one another, and his heart was a furnace that kept his body warm despite the chill. 

He pretended to think for a few minutes, not wanting to give himself away that easily, and when he did finally speak he could tell Seonghwa listened with rapt attention. “There’s one constellation - it’s called Centaurus technically, though most refer to it as the constellation representing Chiron. He was a centaur, half horse and half man. Chiron was rejected by his parents at birth, orphaned and shamed for most of his early life, leaving deep emotional wounds.

“One day, he was found by the god Apollo. Apollo was the god of the sun, music, prophecy, and the art of healing. He was trained to learn these things, becoming a calm tempered and well meaning master of the subjects. Suddenly, he was no longer rejected as he once was, now being asked to tutor the bravest of heroes.

“He was immortal due to his parentage, training many generations of heroes, watching them grow up and then die in heroic ways. The stories never tell you of the emotions they might’ve felt, but I always imagined Chiron to be incredibly wise, but also deeply hurt from his start in life as well as the countless losses he’d experienced.” 

Hongjoong took a deep inhale at this part of the story, trying not to make it obvious that he wasn’t talking about Chiron at all. “He is wounded himself, but still becomes a renowned healer, learning to heal others and eventually healing himself in the process. The world had committed countless wrongs against him, and he still didn’t lose his desire to heal, to protect others from the pain he’d experienced. He eventually died from a poison arrow, his immortality taken to end his suffering, and his soul was placed up in the stars, thus creating his constellation.” 

That was the end of the story, but it wasn’t the end of what Hongjoong wanted to say, and after a brief pause he continued to speak. “Ever since I was a child, I always liked Chiron’s story the best. He was nothing similar to myself, and there were other legends that I found reminiscent of my own experiences, but none of them were the same as this one. He was so unfailingly good despite being doomed from the start, and he overcame that to become one of the most beloved mythological figures,” Hongjoong paused briefly, shifting his gaze towards Seonghwa, and he hoped that his companion would understand the implications of what he said next. 

“I didn’t like the story because it had any relation to myself - I liked it because I hoped to meet someone like him one day, someone that brave. I wanted to find someone who was proof that it was possible to still be good in the face of so much hardship. I wanted to meet someone someday that would maybe be able to heal me, too.” Someone like you.

For the first time in his life, Hongjoong was exposing the truth behind why he loved Chiron’s legend so much, the hope that he had always held so close to his chest. He waited for Seonghwa to respond and found that he couldn’t breathe, so terrified that the man wouldn’t want to be that person for him, even after the time they had spent together tonight.

“I hope you can find that too,” Seonghwa murmured, and he said it like he really meant it, completely unaware of his own role in all of this. Hongjoong’s worry deflated, and he shook his head with a fond sigh, so endeared by how oblivious Seonghwa could be. His innocence was precious, and Hongjoong would go to the deepest pits of hell to protect that, even if it meant he would never be able to express his feelings without writing them blatantly on his forehead. 

“You misunderstand me, Seonghwa. For such a smart person, you are very oblivious sometimes. I’ve already met that person - I’m laying beside him right now.”

He didn’t give Seonghwa a chance to reply just yet, for he wanted to explain himself, suddenly desperate for him to understand. “Do you not see - you are the embodiment of the very story I just told you. Chiron is known by the title of the wounded healer, just the same as you. I was fixated on that legend for years, always thinking that someone like that could never really exist. But then I learned of your past, of everything you’d endured, and I saw with my own eyes that you were still so consistently good. So kind, and gentle, and willing to heal people who had hurt you. You give me hope, Seonghwa.”

“But I - I haven’t done anything close to that legend,” Seonghwa spluttered. “I’m just… I’m just me.” But wasn’t that the beauty of love? That Hongjoong treasured every minute thing Seonghwa did for its deeper meaning, finding everything he had ever sought to find in another person, though Seonghwa didn’t even realize he had done anything spectacular? 

To Hongjoong, his existence alone was the most spectacular thing. Seonghwa would never need to try to be loved by him, because the feelings were simply there in everything he did, and always would be. “And that is exactly what I mean. You can’t even see how remarkable you are, because it’s just who you are. Just trust me when I say that you are the person I wanted to find all those years,” Hongjoong said, hearing the fond exasperation underlying the honesty in his own voice. 

“I’ll try my best to be a good friend to you,” Seonghwa answered after a moment of hesitation, his words rising in pitch at the end like  a question, clearly confused by the entire conversation. 

And Hongjoong, infatuated as he was, could only find it in himself to feel endeared. “You will understand what I mean one day, I hope. But until then, you are a wonderful friend, Seonghwa,” he said kindly, choosing to settle on that for now in order to prevent Seonghwa from bursting a blood vessel trying to puzzle it out. “Do you want to hear another one of my favorite legends?” 

Seonghwa nodded, and Hongjoong continued to tell him all of the tales he had kept close to his heart since childhood, only speaking them aloud to another for the first time tonight. 

They stayed out there on the deck, losing track of time as they exchanged stories and questions and the occasional bout of teasing. Neither man noticed how much time had passed until the sky began to lighten, the stars retreating as the day broke once more. As the subjects of the legends vanished, they eventually stood, though Hongjoong still felt the presence of a man more cosmic than the stars at his side. 

He hoped that if the universe could truly see the potential between people, that it would have seen something shift between the two of them that night, for Hongjoong had never felt more certain about Seonghwa. 

~

Rough hands shook Hongjoong awake after he had finally fallen into a restless sleep, and he jerked into consciousness, scrambling back against the sheets as he frantically blinked his eyes into focus. Panic seized his chest, and his breath caught in his throat until he recognized the tall silhouette standing over him. “Yunho,” he breathed, gripping at his pounding heart over his sweat soaked clothing. He didn’t put together the reason for the first mate shaking him awake until he remembered that Yunho had been the lookout after Seonghwa that night, and then his blood shot cold. “What did you see?” 

He already knew what the answer would be, and he watched as Yunho gripped at his hair, shaking his head frantically as he responded. “It’s a military ship - it’s huge, and it’s far out on the horizon, but it’s definitely there. We’re still anchored, Hongjoong! We need to get the hell out of here,” he rambled, voice strained as he lost control of his composure, pacing the space beside the bed just like he had done after the pirate meeting at the capital. 

Hongjoong got out of bed right away, not bothering to change his clothes or put on shoes as he fled from the room, Yunho right at his heels. His heart was hammering against his ribs, and he felt out of control of his own body, watching himself run down the hall and out onto the deck to see the ship for himself. 

He stopped by the railing, hands clenching the bars as he scanned his eyes over the horizon, not wanting to believe what Yunho had seen. But sure enough, after a moment he saw it, the pale glow of the half moon reflecting upon the thick metal hull of a ship that he often saw in his nightmares. His heart stopped at the sight, fear clawing its way up the slimy walls of his throat, and he choked on air as he realized that the bow of the ship was headed straight for them. Whether his father was on the ship or not, it was now only a matter of time until he met the man face to face. 

“Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice trembling violently, and he ignored how Yunho turned to him with concern obvious on his face. His fingers were shaking, and even as he tried to clench his hands into fists, those shook too. He looked down to see his entire body trembling, though he couldn’t even feel it, static consuming all of his limbs. For a moment, he thought he would collapse onto the deck entirely, his head far too light. 

Confronted by one of the ships from his childhood, he reverted back to the fear of a much younger boy, and he didn’t know how to make it stop. He felt nausea churn in his gut, and he barely managed to force his head over the railing before he was vomiting into the sea, the salty mist caressing his face almost like it understood how he felt. And maybe it did, for the sea had always been there when he had been beaten to within an inch of his life on navy ships, and it was still with him now as he captained a ship of his own. The sea had watched him grow into a man capable of love, and now it watched him realize that he was about to lose everything he had worked so hard to gain. 

Hongjoong had known this day would come, but he could never have prepared himself for seeing the navy ship with his own two eyes, his dread stronger than the gusts of wind that whipped straight through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. He heaved violently over the side of the ship, and he vaguely felt Yunho’s hand rubbing at his back, though it brought him little comfort. How could it, when the man by his side was only a reminder of everything he would lose in a matter of days?

Breaths struggled to enter his lungs, for they were already full to the brim with fear, and he couldn’t inhale the amount of air that he needed. Black spots appeared in his vision, and he squinted up at the stars, desperate for comfort. Polaris still twinkled high above his head, brighter than all the rest, and he latched onto it just like he always had as a boy. 

He felt just as powerless as he had back then, for he knew that his father was coming, and he could do nothing to prevent that. Ever since the meeting with the other pirates, he had known what he would do when that moment came, but that didn’t make it any easier. There would be no escaping the navy now, and he could already feel the walls of his old room back at the base closing in, his heart shrinking and his lungs compressing. 

“Hongjoong, please! It’s okay, you’re okay,” Yunho yelled, and Hongjoong realized that the first mate must have been trying to get his attention for a while, his words falling on deaf ears. He coughed hard enough to gag all over again, but he managed to keep another round of vomiting at bay as he looked to his side, Yunho’s eyes shining with unshed tears. Hongjoong had never lost himself like this in front of another person before, and that made him freeze up, his breaths shallow as he tried to regain control. He couldn’t fall apart like this - his father couldn’t see him like this, for that would mean he had already lost. 

The end was imminent, but Hongjoong couldn’t spend his final days on the ship in a panic. He needed to love his crew a little harder, breathe in the salt air a little deeper, and remember what it felt like to be free. If he wasted this time he had left, he would regret it for as long as his father kept him alive. 

“I’m okay,” he choked out, wiping at his cheeks once he realized that they were soaked with tears. Inhaling as deeply as he could manage, he closed his eyes for just a moment, shifting his metaphorical armor back into place. “I’m okay. Forget about that - we need to raise the anchor and buy ourselves as much time as possible. Help me do it, and then I’ll steer us away from my - um, from the ship.” He had been about to say “my father’s ship,” and that alone made bile pool in his mouth, fingers shaking out of his control. 

Yunho complied even as that look of concern remained etched into his features, and the two of them raised the anchor together, both drenched in sweat by the time Hongjoong took his post at the helm and began to steer the ship away from the one on the horizon. That was all he could do, and he focused all of his energy on navigating, for otherwise he feared he would fall to the ground and never get back up again. He feared he would leap directly into the sea, allowing the waves to surge down his throat and drown him violently, a beautiful fate in comparison to what the world had in store for him.

How could a world that had brought him seven beautiful souls condemn him to this kind of end? How could the universe have given him such a profound gift, allowing him to learn how to love and be loved in return, just to yank it all away when it would hurt the most? He had been so close to having it all, and now he had to stand at the helm and understand that soon, he would have nothing left but memories. 

How long would it take for the pain to obscure the smiles of the people he loved? When would his strength run out, rendering him into nothing more than a trembling mass of nerves at his father’s feet? Would he forget what the touch of love felt like if he never experienced it again?

And perhaps the worst question of all: would he forget how to love entirely, reverting back to the monster his father had conditioned him to become?

Dead to the world, Hongjoong pondered these questions again and again as he steered the ship, hardly noticing as the sun rose and the others began to exit the cabin. Each time a new one of his friends opened the door, he glanced in their direction before turning back to the sea, letting Yunho be the bearer of bad news. He couldn’t stand to face them like this, and his heart felt leaden in his chest at the mere sight of them, unable to fathom his imminent loss of everything he held dear. 

When the cabin door opened for the final time, Hongjoong turned to look again, and he found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Seonghwa no matter how hard he tried. He was with Wooyoung, and he approached with a hand over his forehead to block the glare of the sun, a small smile gracing his lips as he made eye contact with Hongjoong. 

The smile fell a second later, and he rushed forward the rest of the way, features already shifting into an expression of dread. “What happened?” he asked tentatively, as if he feared the answer, and Hongjoong couldn’t allow Yunho to answer when Seonghwa was the one asking. 

With a shaky sigh, Hongjoong shoved a hand into his hair, pulling on the strands to ground himself enough to speak evenly. Somehow, when he looked at Seonghwa, he found strength inside that he hadn’t been able to access before. “They found us. There’s a military ship headed straight our way, Yunho saw it on the horizon this morning. We had no choice but to raise anchor and try to outsail them before they could catch up to us.” 

All of the others were staring at Hongjoong as well, but all he could see was Seonghwa, the man stepping forward again until he had fully joined the rest of them. “What do we do if they catch up - their ship is probably faster than ours,” he pointed out, and Hongjoong shook his head, struggling to find a response that wouldn’t give away his real answer. If he told Seonghwa that he intended to give himself up, he would never succeed in saving the seven of them. 

“We have to fight them, or else we’ll go down with the ship,” he answered, tone solemn, though he wouldn’t let that happen. They wouldn’t even have the chance to fight, if he succeeded in pulling off the plan already knitting together in his mind. 

“But - they have military grade weapons, and our cannons won’t go through their hull the same way they go through pirate ships,” Seonghwa spluttered, eyes wide with fright, and seeing him this afraid made Hongjoong stand up a little straighter. He would do anything to protect Seonghwa from being hurt again, even though he knew that his sacrifice would inflict a different kind of hurt anyway. None of them could escape this situation painlessly, but Hongjoong had faith that they would be able to heal in his absence - after all, he had always been the hardest to love. 

Yeosang cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to himself as he leaned over a map that rested against the helm. “We are approaching a small island, and according to my map there’s a channel that runs through the middle. We’ve sailed around this area before, because I drew in the channel on this map myself. That means they likely don’t know it’s there - if we can stay just ahead of them, enough to escape through the channel, we can get away. It’s a risk, because we don’t know how deep the water is, but it might be our only option,” he informed while holding up his map for them all to see, and Hongjoong took the offering, if only to keep his crew hopeful. 

He stepped forward to look at the map himself, standing directly beside Seonghwa and placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. This time, he did so for his own benefit, drawing strength from the contact as he nodded. “Thank you, Yeosang. We’ll continue to sail in that direction, and if necessary we will use that secret channel to our advantage. Our ship is smaller than the military grade ships - even if ours can fit through successfully, theirs definitely can’t.” He turned back to the rest of them, finally addressing them all now that he had shaken himself out of the worst of his panic. 

“Don’t lose hope, I will do whatever it takes to keep you all safe,” he vowed, taking care to lock eyes with each of them, for he needed them to understand that. Even if they assumed the promise to be empty, he hoped it brought them some kind of comfort anyway. 

When his gaze fell on Seonghwa last, he held the eye contact as he continued to speak, pouring every ounce of love in his heart into his gaze. “If things go south, we will aim the cannons for the bow of the enemy ship. The sides are built sturdy, but we can still do damage if we know where to strike. They may be stronger, but we will be smarter.” 

They may be out for our blood, but I will offer them something better.

Seonghwa nodded back at him, trust apparent in his eyes, and Hongjoong felt the first crack split through his heart as he lied to the man he loved most. 

~

Hongjoong slipped into the cafeteria later that night, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the ship looming in the distance, exhaustion clinging to his bones as his entire body begged for rest. He had come here to find Wooyoung, and at the sound of the door opening, the boy looked over his shoulder, currently standing at the stove. The aroma of dinner filled the room, and Hongjoong’s mouth filled with saliva as he approached the kitchen area, a soft smile touching his lips but not fully extending to his eyes. He had been trying his best to act normal, but there was only so much he could do. Despite how his father had raised him to be a machine, he was only human, and the ache of his heart was ever present. 

“Sorry, I know you’re busy, but I wanted to talk to you about something,” he explained, thankful that Wooyoung typically enjoyed having company while he cooked. He looked just as exhausted as Hongjoong felt, having sleeping troubles of his own after the capital, his skin sallow and eye sockets shadowed.

Now that Hongjoong was standing beside him, Wooyoung had turned back to the stove, though the grin on his lips was impossible to miss. How he could still manage to find joy despite their impending doom, Hongjoong didn’t know, but he allowed it to wash over him with a shaky exhale. “Let me guess - it has to do with your late night visit to Seonghwa out on the deck, where you proceeded to be incredibly obvious about your feelings for him, and he still didn’t understand a thing?” 

Taken aback by the accuracy of his answer, Hongjoong struggled to respond for a moment, his lips parted in surprise. “You - how do you know that?” He asked, for if Wooyoung had been watching them, he would never survive the onslaught of teasing that he would face for the rest of his life. Though now it seemed that they wouldn’t make it that far anyway, and Hongjoong forced himself to smile so he wouldn’t start to cry. 

“Seonghwa told me when he came back to bed, because I couldn’t sleep without him there, so I was awake still. You should hear how he talks about you - even just the way he says your name. He really cares for you, differently than he does the rest of us,” Wooyoung answered, and Hongjoong shook his head, even though he had suspected that for a while. Seonghwa didn’t understand his own feelings, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. 

“Are you sure?” Hongjoong whispered, hating how weak he sounded even to his own ears. “He didn’t even see me as a friend, until I pushed for it. And the funny thing is that I can’t even be angry at him for it, because everything he does only makes me fall further. He doesn’t understand what this kind of love feels like, so how am I to know if he feels the same if he doesn’t even know it for himself? I want to believe that he loves me too, but how can I?”

Despite the clear emotion in Hongjoong’s words, Wooyoung still had the nerve to smile, his expression tender without a trace of the teasing Hongjoong had expected. “He does know it, though. Perhaps he doesn’t know what to call it, but he knows just the same. His eyes light up around you like those of a child, because you make him feel safe enough to heal that hurt child inside of himself that never received any love. He only ever loses his composure around you, because you’re special to him in a way that no one else is. Sometimes when he talks about you, he lays a hand over his stomach, like butterflies are swirling around in there. He loves you, Hongjoong. I can promise you that.” 

Not a whisper of doubt underlied his voice, and Hongjoong clung to the reassurance, a tether to keep him grounded as the world ripped at his clothing, tearing away chunks of his skin and leaving gaping holes behind. “Let me ask something of you, then,” he said, and Wooyoung turned away from the stove to look at him, sensing the gravity of the request. 

“Anything,” he responded, sounding more mature than Hongjoong had ever heard him. 

Hongjoong inhaled a deep breath, swallowing forcefully. “If Seonghwa is ever upset with himself for… for not realizing the extent of his feelings earlier, please tell him about this conversation. Tell him that I’ve always known. Please.” His voice cracked on the final word, and his eyes began to burn with tears, because he couldn’t give away the true reason why he was asking this. 

He could imagine Seonghwa tearing himself apart over this once Hongjoong was gone, suffocating under the weight of his own guilt as he realized too late that he had been in love all along, and he wanted to spare him as much of that pain as possible. He needed Seonghwa to know that he didn’t have to feel guilty, because Hongjoong treasured him more than any chest of jewels and coins, and he would do anything to relieve him of whatever pain he could without actually being there. 

“I will. I promise,” Wooyoung murmured, and Hongjoong thanked him in a quiet voice, wandering out of the room in an emotional daze. He knew that even despite his best efforts, he would only be able to alleviate a fraction of the pain his crew would feel upon his impending sacrifice, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to act normal when his heart was actively clenched in the cold fist of dread at all times. 

Their downfall was inevitable, but that didn’t make the descent into hell any easier.

Chapter Text

The following morning, the military ship was now clearly visible behind them, having decreased the gap during the night. Hongjoong was standing on the deck with Seonghwa and Yunho, and he could see the hulking mass much closer than before, filling his entire body with dread as he understood that this was the beginning of the end. They were still hours away from the island Yeosang had mentioned as a potential means of escape, but Hongjoong knew that would only buy them a few days at most, only delaying the inevitable. If they even made it there before the ship caught up to them, which was seeming to be less and less likely. 

San and Wooyoung were both up in the crows nest together, though there was no real need for a lookout anymore - the navy ship could be seen from anywhere on the deck due to its current proximity. Still, Hongjoong knew they couldn’t stand to do nothing even in the face of inevitable danger. Hope had no place on this ship anymore, and yet no one aside from Hongjoong seemed to be willing to part with it. 

“Do you think we’ll make it?” Seonghwa asked, and Hongjoong looked away from the churning sea to face him, sure that his answer was evident before he even spoke it aloud. Both Seonghwa and Yunho watched him with thinly veiled anxiety, and Hongjoong hated that he couldn’t soothe it away this time. 

“It’s unlikely, as much as I want to tell you otherwise. They are going to catch up to us within the next few hours, likely just before we reach the channel. Mingi already prepared the cannons, we will shoot through their hull as best as we can and try to escape before they can sink us,” he responded, for he refused to lie to them about this. There would be no escaping the ship on their tail, not when it closed the gap further by the minute, and they needed to be prepared for that. He hoped it wouldn’t come to shooting, but he had to have a second plan in place just in case things went south and his plan didn’t work. 

After all, Hongjoong had no idea if his father was even on that ship at all. If he wasn’t, then his sacrifice might not even matter. He inhaled shakily, the seconds passing by slower than ever as he watched Seonghwa’s face fall, as if the man finally understood the loss they were facing. Just as Seonghwa had finally learned what it meant to live after spending so much of his life alone, he could lose everything, and Hongjoong’s resolve solidified when he noticed the angry tears brimming in his eyes. 

Seonghwa turned away, and Hongjoong’s heart ached, for he didn’t want any of them to hide how they were feeling. Not when they needed to rely on each other most. He could see the muscles in Seonghwa’s jaw clenching, and he reached out a hand to brush against his arm, feeling the firm skin beneath his outerwear. 

At the contact, Seonghwa turned his head to face him, and Hongjoong stepped closer. He kept his hand in place, sending all of the strength he could through the touch. “We can’t just let it end like that,” Seonghwa murmured, and his voice sounded so pained that Hongjoong needed to alleviate as much of it as possible, adding more weight to his own shoulders in order to give Seonghwa a reprieve. 

“ I won’t let it end, Seonghwa. Not now, not when we’re finally complete. This is the full crew of eight I’ve been searching for since the day I became a pirate, and you will not be taken from me in such a way as this. ” Hongjoong couldn’t look away from the pair of eyes staring back at him, deeper than the most hidden parts of the sea, cavernous and desperate and home to the same darkness Hongjoong housed inside of himself. He seemed to be searching for something, and Hongjoong laid all of his defenses bare, allowing Seonghwa to see how important this was to him. 

His crew wouldn’t be taken from him, because he would instead be the one to go willingly. “But Hongjoong, it’s out of our hands now, isn’t it?” ” Seonghwa asked, and his voice wavered, hardly audible above the wind as he spoke his fears aloud. 

Hongjoong moved his hand down Seonghwa’s arm, fingers brushing down his skin until they reached his hand, squeezing firmly. Their palms fit together like they had been crafted from the dust of the same star, fated since the origin of the universe itself. “Seonghwa, do you trust me?” He spoke softly, crading Seonghwa’s hand within his own and trying to memorize exactly what it felt like. The tough skin around the scar that bisected his palm, and the light calluses on his fingers that contrasted the thick ones covering Hongjoong’s hands. On the back part of his hand, past the knuckles, the skin was softer than the inside of a rose petal. 

“Yes,” Seonghwa answered without missing a beat, and Hongjoong would have smiled if he didn’t feel his rib cage constricting upon his heart. 

“I promise you, we will get out of this. And I do not break my promises.” For a flashing moment, Hongjoong saw a prostitute behind cell bars in his mind, her eyes pleading as his father commanded him to make the kill. He saw the only failed promise he had ever made, and he hated himself for not being fully honest with the man he loved most. He couldn’t be, for then they would all perish by his father’s hand, but that didn’t make his task any easier. 

He watched Seonghwa’s tension visibly deflate, and another piece of his heart crumbled. As Seonghwa opened his mouth to speak, however, they both heard someone new approach and looked away from one another reluctantly. Hongjoong pulled his hand back to his side, though he could still feel the lingering warmth from their shared touch, and he resisted the urge to press it against his heart. 

Yeosang stepped up beside the three of them, his typically calm demeanor overcome by nerves. He gripped a rolled up map in his fist, though he was squeezing it slightly too hard, the parchment protesting beneath the force of his grasp. Hongjoong winced at the sight, already dreading whatever had made the navigator lose his usual composure like this. “What’s wrong?” he forced himself to ask, though he truthfully didn’t want to know, hating that they couldn’t live in ignorance forever. 

With a heavy exhale, Yeosang answered, fixing his eyes upon each of them. “The wind is changing - it’s starting to move against us. Both our ship and the one behind us are slowing down, but their ship is more streamlined than ours. They’re gaining much faster.” Of course they never would have made it through the channel - Hongjoong had known that all along, but he hated that a part of him had still dared to hope that they would escape. 

Now he knew that the end he had been dreading since the capital was imminent, and it took every shred of strength he possessed to not break down right there. If he did that, he feared he would never recover in time for the navy ship’s approach, and he couldn’t allow his father or any of his men to see how terrified he was. All he wanted to do was scream until he tore his own throat out and cry until he drowned in his own tears, but he could do none of that, so instead he leaned into the familiar burn of the anger that always simmered beneath the surface of his emotions. 

He cursed, feeling spit fly free from his lips as he kicked at the railing and fisted his hands in his hair to hide how they trembled. Breathing became more difficult, and he tried to keep his struggle hidden from the rest of his crew as he lost himself in the unavoidable horror of what he would need to do next. The others continued to speak around him, but he heard nothing they said, panic ringing in his ears as he stared at the churning waves, wishing that they would surge up over the railing and end his life before his father could condemn him to a fate much worse. 

Hongjoong hadn’t felt this out of control in months, and he had forgotten how awful it felt, his stomach churning and bile staining the back of his tongue as he dug his nails into his scalp in order to keep the tears from clouding his vision. He wanted to remain strong for the people he loved, but he could barely even remember what that felt like, weakness seeping into every cell of his body. The horrors of his past had come knocking upon the door to the life he had always dreamed of having, and regardless of if his father was on that ship or not, nothing would ever be the same after today. 

Even if he didn’t make his sacrifice today, whoever commanded the ship that was gaining on them would recognize him as his father’s son - and if they didn’t, then Hongjoong and his entire crew would die. In no possible way could this end well, because even if they did live to sail another day together, his father would be alerted. The man who had turned him into this stitched together mess of pain and death would come to find him, and though the very thought sent chills along the skin of Hongjoong’s entire body, that wasn’t the part of this that he feared the most. 

He was most afraid of what would transpire when his crew learned of the truth, for there was simply no way for this day to end without them learning of his true parentage. For years he had kept this secret safe from them all, terrified of how they would react when they realized the true extent of how irreparably damaged he had been since birth, and now he wouldn’t even have the chance to be honest on his own terms. Even now, his father never ceased to take from him, and he clenched a hand over his chest as he struggled to intake a breath. 

His heart thudded erratically against his ribs, and he gripped the railing tight enough for the bones in his fingers to feel the strain, already weak after the countless times they had been broken. Every single part of Hongjoong’s body and mind had felt the pain of his father’s abuse, too many broken bones and twisting scars to count - even his slight stature could be blamed on the man, for he had shattered growth plates and destroyed the health of Hongjoong’s joints and spine from the moment he had learned to walk. 

How could Hongjoong explain all of that cruelty to his crew and expect them to understand? He was supposed to be their captain, and even if they didn’t view him with disgust after learning the truth, they would still pity him for the wretched hand he had been dealt in life. The relationships he treasured most would never be the same after today, and he hated his father for that most of all, his panic pounding in his ears. 

He was only able to snap out of it when he felt Yunho begin to step away, throwing out an arm to block his path. “Don’t,” he interjected, words harsher than he had intended. The first mate had been headed in Mingi’s direction, ready to alert him to begin shooting, and Hongjoong couldn’t allow for that. As soon as they opened fire, their ship would be sunk within minutes. 

Hongjoong shut his eyes for a brief moment, swallowing to steel his nerves, though he didn’t feel much of a change. He hated how frantic he felt, and he couldn’t control the anger in his voice, though none of it was directed towards any of the seven members of his crew. “Do not shoot at them,” he repeated. 

“But - Hongjoong, they’ll shoot at us as soon as they get the chance!” The protest came from Yeosang, the navigator raising his voice as he stared at Hongjoong with eyes red and shining. And Hongjoong knew that none of them would understand, but he couldn’t explain - how could he possibly even begin to explain? They possessed no time for such conversations, and he refused to lower his arm even in the face of their bewilderment. 

“They won’t,” he countered, though he knew that two words would never be enough to satisfy them. He felt just as stubborn as he had been when he had refused to see the good in Seonghwa, only this time he knew he was right, and he didn’t care if they thought him crazy. They would understand soon enough. 

Just as Yeosang opened his mouth to respond, Seonghwa interjected instead, his voice cutting straight to Hongjoong’s rattled soul. “Hongjoong, are you insane? We can see their cannons raised from here,” he pointed out gruffly, raising a hand to gesture towards the enemy ship. “They will show us no mercy - now is not the time for you to lose your anger.” He didn’t intend for the words to sound combative, but Hongjoong bristled anyway, his temper flaring. If only Seonghwa could see into his mind right then, he would have understood that Hongjoong had never felt more consumed by rage. 

“Trust me, Seonghwa. I have not lost my anger,” he replied harshly before coming up directly in front of Yeosang. “Lend me the compass you bought in the capital - the shiny one,” he asked impatiently, for he knew that Yeosang would comply even without an explanation. As the navigator dug through his pockets for the compass, Hongjoong stared at the approaching ship, noting that they had begun to raise their cannons. He had to do this now, or he would never have the chance to save his crew. 

Yeosang offered the compass on a flattened palm, and Hongjoong snatched it immediately, wasting no more time as he stalked his way over to the crow’s nest. The nest itself was still occupied, though it wouldn’t be for long. Stopping at the base of the ladder, Hongjoong craned his neck up towards the sky and cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling loud enough to irritate his throat. “San, Wooyoung! Come down now!”

Two heads popped over the edge to look down at him, San’s lips moving soundlessly as the wind whipped through his unruly hair and carried his voice away. Still, they must have seen the tight pinch of Hongjoong’s features even from all the way up there, for they began to descend the nest quickly. 

Preparing himself to fly up the ladder as soon as they reached the deck, Hongjoong tried to take another step forward only to be stopped by a rough hand grasping his arm. It was Seonghwa, and his touch was such a contrast to the tender brush of their fingers earlier that Hongjoong was momentarily stunned. Taking advantage of this, Seonghwa tugged him close until their faces were separated by mere inches, their angry huffs of air mingling. The entire situation was reminiscent of how they used to argue, and Hongjoong hated every second of it, wishing he could capture Seonghwa’s lips in a heated kiss if only to shut him up. To make it all stop hurting for just a moment.

“What are you doing?” hissed Seonghwa, eyes flashing as he kept his grip on Hongjoong’s arm tight, refusing to let him free without an answer. “You told me you would never do this - we are supposed to decide things as a team. No one knows what the hell your plan is.” A sharp blade of pain bisected the abused muscle of Hongjoong’s heart as he registered the anger in Seonghwa’s voice, for he had never wanted it to go this way. They were fighting all over again, and it was all Hongjoong’s fault, and he couldn’t blame Seonghwa for anything he had just said because he was right. Hongjoong wished to break down right here, trusting strong arms to catch him and alleviate the pain that had been slowly chipping away at his heart, but now more than ever he needed to remain strong. 

He knew his irritation must have shown, for Seonghwa’s eyes gleamed with undisguised hurt, and he wanted to say so many different things right then as his heart ached viscerally enough to make his sinuses burn. He wanted to drop his armor for once and tell Seonghwa everything, in the naive hope that he wouldn’t turn away from the rotting carcass of the young boy who had been hidden from the light for a lifetime. He wanted to apologize for the pain that would come next, for he knew that the hurt Seonghwa felt now was nothing in comparison to what had yet to come. 

Most of all, he wanted to tell Seonghwa that he loved him, more than he had ever thought himself capable. 

“Trust me.” Those were the only two words that slipped past his lips despite all of the ones at war in his mind, and he watched as Seonghwa restrained himself from pushing further. Wooyoung and San had reached the deck in the time they had been arguing, and Hongjoong stepped away from Seonghwa as they abandoned the ladder, reaching up to grasp the first set of rungs.

“Seonghwa, what are you doing?” Wooyoung asked from behind him, and Hongjoong jerked his head around to find Seonghwa standing directly behind him, clearly intending to follow him up to the crow’s nest despite his fear of being up so high. 

His heart seized as he took in the determined set of Seonghwa’s shoulders, only able to see the back of his head as he turned in Wooyoung’s direction. “I’m not letting him go up there alone,” came the response, before he turned back to face Hongjoong, a faltering smile warping his lips. 

This was all wrong, and Hongjoong couldn’t budge against the ladder, his pulse pounding frantically in his ears. “Seonghwa, no. I’ll be fine, you’re being ridiculous. We both know you can’t go up there - don’t do that to yourself.” He was practically pleading, and he would have gotten to his knees if that would have made any difference, but he knew it wouldn’t. Seonghwa had made up his mind, and he was the most stubborn person Hongjoong had ever known. 

“When will you understand that you have a crew of people who would do anything for you? You asked me to trust you, but you need to trust me too,” Seonghwa responded, voice firm despite the way his fingers trembled at his sides, and Hongjoong could fight him no longer. They were wasting time, and with every second that passed he knew the navy ship was preparing its cannons. 

He did trust Seonghwa, but that didn’t make it any easier when he gave the man one last pleading look before starting up the ladder. As he climbed higher, the wind assaulted him with more force, and he could hardly breathe as he feared for the man climbing the rungs directly below him. He wanted to look down, but he couldn’t risk distracting Seonghwa when he was already so panicked, so he instead focused on reaching the top as quickly as possible. 

Once he made it there, he clambered into the nest and peered over the side, waiting anxiously for Seonghwa to climb just a little bit closer. He could see the unadulterated fear on Seonghwa’s face as he reached for each new rung, skin pale and slick with sweat and eyebrows tightly knitted together. Every movement was stiff and restrained, the tension held in his muscles visible even through his clothes, and Hongjoong was desperate to help him. He hated to see Seonghwa so afraid, and as soon as he came within reach Hongjoong was hauling him up and into the nest, the two of them sprawling back against the wooden walls. 

As soon as his focus was no longer on climbing, Seonghwa seemed to lose himself completely in his fear, staring over the side of the nest as his breaths hitched unevenly past his lips. The only other time Hongjoong had seen him this despondent had been during his first battle on the ship when he had saved Hongjoong’s life, and he didn’t know how to bring him back, tapping at his cheeks in an attempt to redirect his focus away from the sea so far below. 

When Seonghwa finally met his eyes, they were wild with panic, and the sight sent a pang of remorse burning through Hongjoong’s chest. He never should have allowed this to happen, but now they were up here and he didn’t know how to make Seonghwa feel better when every gust of wind was a reminder of how far up they were. “I’m okay,” he gasped, though Hongjoong had never been less convinced of that fact. “Do what you came up here to do.” 

Hongjoong held his gaze for a moment longer than he should have, knowing that they were pressed for time, but he couldn’t help it. He reached up a wind chilled hand to smooth Seonghwa’s bangs away from his face, scanning over his features, once again awed by how lovely he was. His hand fell down further as he laced their fingers together, hoping that Seonghwa would be able to draw some kind of strength from the touch, for Hongjoong suddenly felt brave enough to pull the compass free from his pocket with his free hand and turn to face the navy ship. 

He raised it high into the air, grateful that the sun hung right behind the hulking mass headed their way, for it provided him with the light he needed to make his plan work. Despite his years away from the navy, Hongjoong still remembered the signals he had learned while being taught how to sail, and he pulled from his memory now as he tilted the shiny backside of the compass in a practiced pattern. 

The signal was one indicative of distress, though the subject itself didn’t really matter - once the men on that ship saw that the pattern was precisely one of their own, they would withhold their fire in order to see for themselves what they had found. And if the commander of the ship was one of his father’s cronies, he would already suspect who had sent the signal, too high on greed to let such an opportunity to bring back the shamed son of the navy pass by. 

He repeated the same pattern over and over until he noticed flashes of light in return, and dread settled like lead in his gut as he lowered the compass and turned back to Seonghwa. “They saw it - we can go back down,” he said, and he helped Seonghwa back over to the ladder, guiding his feet over the edge until they rested against the nearest rungs. 

However, when he intended to let go, Seonghwa only clutched onto his hands tighter, his eyes wild with fear as he clung to Hongjoong like a lifeline. “It’s okay, Seonghwa. You’ve survived so much, you can survive this too,” he soothed, pouring all of his love into his voice and watching as Seonghwa shifted his feet down a rung. His panicked breaths were audible over the wind, and Hongjoong continued to call down soothing words to him as he followed, keeping a constant eye on Seonghwa’s pace. 

Scared as he was, he didn’t falter until they reached the bottom and Wooyoung was there to receive him, pulling him free of the rungs and making room for Hongjoong to descend down onto the deck as well. Seonghwa had already collapsed to the ground by the time Hongjoong stepped away from the ladder, his entire body violently trembling as Wooyoung wrapped around him, murmuring words of comfort. 

His face was hidden in Wooyoung’s shoulder, and he looked so vulnerable crumpled on the deck like this that Hongjoong felt a lump the size of a peach pit obstruct his throat. He crouched down beside them, and he didn’t need to do anything to get Seonghwa’s attention, for watery brown eyes had already peeked out from behind Wooyoung’s arms to stare at him. Heart aching, Hongjoong extended a hand to cup the soft skin of Seonghwa’s cheek, and he bit his lower lip to withhold a pitiful sound when Seonghwa leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. “Thank you for coming with me,” he murmured, and his heart remained there with Seonghwa when he pulled away, cold armor clamping down over his emotions as he turned to face the others who had gathered there. 

“They won’t shoot,” he asserted, ignoring the looks of confusion. “Let them pull up beside us.” This time, he didn’t receive any protests, for they all knew it was too late for that - they had no choice but to trust him now, and the lump in his throat grew to the size of a plum. Neither Seonghwa nor Wooyoung moved to join the rest of them until the ship was right beside theirs, and then Hongjoong heard them stand up behind him, though he didn't turn to look. 

Instead, he kept his eyes fixated on the ship until their decks were aligned, a group of navy men approaching the railing at their own leisure. Hongjoong hated everything about them, from their pristine uniforms to the polished guns at their sides, and he felt the pressure of his knives at his waist as he fought the desire to send a blade through the skull of each man. 

He didn’t actually recognize any of them aside from one, and of course he was the one who came closer than all the rest, one of his father’s dogs. Hongjoong could feel the smugness radiating from him, and he clenched his fists as he stepped forward as well, mind clouding over with rage when the man clapped his hands, his harsh laughter easily carrying over the wind. “Got a new ship, don’t you? The one you stole from us wasn’t working for you anymore?” He curled his lip in disgust as he looked over Hongjoong from head to toe, his gaze leaving a trail of revulsion behind. 

Just as Hongjoong had expected, his past had already begun to be revealed, and unbridled rage burned strong enough to set his bones alight as he felt a sneer twist his face. “Don’t give me that - I’m not one of you,” he spat. 

His father’s lackey leaned forward against the railing casually, fully aware that he held the upper hand. “Oh, but aren’t you? You can change your affiliations, but you can’t change the very blood that runs through your veins.” Hongjoong froze at that, and nausea churned in his gut as the man’s eyes trailed over his body slower this time, lingering in places they never had before. “You’ve grown up well, I see. Though you still carry that insufferable attitude,” he commented, and Hongjoong was itching to stab a knife between his legs. 

“Can’t say the same - you’re as tough on the eyes as you always were,” Hongjoong smirked, crossing his arms as he matched the casual stance of his opponent, even as his rage burned him alive. “You talk like you hold no regard for me, but yet you didn’t sink our ship when you could have. Still scared of him after all these years, aren’t you?” He knew that would strike a nerve, and he reveled in it as the man’s facade fell, expression hardening. 

“You know nothing,” he hissed. “I assume these crones that follow you blindly don’t know of him - perhaps I will take someone back with me.” He scanned the deck, and Hongjoong’s entire world turned blood red as he watched the man’s gaze fall upon Seonghwa. “Perhaps the tall, pretty one. He looks like fun.” 

A snarl tore from Hongjoong’s throat like that of a wild animal, and he would have torn this man’s throat out with nothing but his teeth if given the chance, his nails bared like claws at his sides. “If you value your own life, you will not even look at him, or else I will rip you apart myself,” he threatened, and he meant every word. He would strip the skin away from the bones in rough strips, and then brutally tear free the muscles and ligaments, until he could reach inside of the ribcage and puncture the heart with his own jagged nails. 

He didn’t know what his expression looked like as he enjoyed that mental image, but it must have been menacing enough, for the smug look fell away from the man’s face as he redirected his eyes back to Hongjoong with a glare. “If only your father could see you now - you’ve lost any civility you once had,” he tutted, shaking his head slightly, and Hongjoong felt all of his anger wash away with that one word. 

Father. 

The word rendered him immobilized, and he couldn’t even breathe as his vision clouded over, his heart lying stagnant in his chest. That was it - the secret he had kept for years, revealed by this barnacle of a man that Hongjoong couldn’t even remember the name of. He had lost his right to share that part of his past on his own terms, and he felt his resolve begin to crumble completely, unable to keep his defiant act in place anymore. 

He couldn’t stand up for himself against this man, not when his entire crew now knew the truth - what was going through their heads? Hongjoong wanted so badly to turn around and look at them, but he remained frozen, too scared to find disgust clear on their faces and already drowning in shame. How could they ever put their trust in him as a captain when he had been too weak to stand up for himself his entire life? How could they trust that he could ever keep them safe? 

They would finally understand now why he had never been able to love as easily as he should have been, and why it was so fucking hard to love him in return. He had only ever been a monster with the backbone of an abused child as he tried to play the part of someone who belonged on this ship, and though he knew they had always loved him up until now, they had only ever been able to love the parts they had seen. No one in their right mind would choose to love the rest of him, and he now wished that he had embraced them all more often, and told them that he loved them. Maybe then, they would be more likely to stick around. 

Dimly, he heard steps move along the deck and stop right behind him, though he couldn’t understand why anyone would have come forward until he heard Seonghwa’s voice. “Stop taunting him, or I will do even worse damage. Perhaps my captain has lost his so called ‘civility’, but I never had any to begin with,” he snapped, his tone eerily calm, and the words shocked Hongjoong back into consciousness as his lips parted in surprise. 

Of all things he had expected, his crew coming to his defense had been dead last, and he glanced at Seonghwa for a moment as tense silence hung in the air following his declaration. Again this man had caught him by surprise, and Hongjoong was now forced to wonder if perhaps he had been latching onto worst case scenarios in order to prepare his heart for the inevitable exposure of his past trauma against his will. He had been so afraid of being vulnerable that he had instantly assumed no one would want him anymore, but as Seonghwa defended him like a feral animal marking its territory, he realized that he had been wrong. 

A harsh laugh slipped free of Seonghwa’s lips at the continued silence. “Is it that surprising to you that I would defend him? You people look down on us, but at least we can speak our minds without fear of retribution.” Despite the dire situation, Hongjoong felt strangely light all of the sudden, and an easy smirk touched his lips, for this was suddenly a lot less daunting with Seonghwa by his side. They were something of a team - he was beginning to realize that. 

“Your ability to speak your mind on your little crew won’t matter when we sink you to the bottom of the sea,” the man said coldly, and Hongjoong’s smirk grew, because he could tell they were getting under his skin. Good. Let this man tell his father that his son was no longer the meek little boy of the past, that he had grown strong enough to stand up for himself. 

This defiance would only make things worse for him later, he was sure of it, but he found that he didn’t really care. A bout of taunting laughter escaped his lips, and he watched the man look away from Seonghwa and back in his direction, eyes black and rotting with the bitterness of his hate. “We both know that the minute you pulled up beside this ship, you lost any chance of attacking us today. You know that it’s me on this ship - and so does your entire crew. Even if you sink us, I bet there’s one of them greedy for your position, willing to tell my father the truth that his son still sailed these seas until you killed him.” He allowed no motion to slip through into his words, for all he felt when he stared at the man across from him was a cold disconnect. 

“And why do you think your father would have any concern for what became of you? He erased any indication of you within his bloodline, hasn’t spared his disgrace of a son more than a passing thought in years,” the other man pointed out smugly, as if he had just presented a trump card, but he didn’t even understand how wrong he was. Hongjoong knew that couldn’t possibly be true, because his father was the kind of man who needed to make someone feel small, to corrupt an innocent soul all to make himself feel important. He was positive that his escape had haunted his father for years, and he knew the man would do anything to regain his former control. 

Tilting his head, Hongjoong regarded the man on the other deck with a knowing expression. “Don’t you already know the answer to that? If my father hears of me and my ship, he will call off all other pursuers to kill me for himself, just as he always wanted.” He knew his crew wouldn’t understand, but the navy man certainly did, his hands clenched into fists and his mouth twisting hideously. 

“Yes, well he should have put an end to you while you were still a weak thing under his command. You act all high and mighty now, but I know how you fear him. When faced with him, you will crumble,” he threatened, and he left Hongjoong no time to respond as he turned on his heel, marching away from the railing with the rest of his soldiers in tow. 

Hongjoong exhaled a shaky breath as he watched the man disappear, noticing how Seonghwa jolted in fear at his side, as if expecting their ship to still be blown to smithereens by military grade cannons. Shifting closer, Hongjoong rested a gentle hand on Seonghwa’s chest to placate him, able to feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath his fingers. “They’re not going to attack, trust me. He’s sailing away, no doubt to alert that monster he refers to as my father,” he explained, his tongue fumbling over the word father after so many years free of speaking the title aloud. 

With a heavy heart, Hongjoong rescinded his touch, though his finger still tingled from the firm press of Seonghwa’s skin. He turned to address his entire crew, his back now facing the navy ship, and he willed his voice not to waver. “I bought us some time, but it won’t be much. We need to sail as far away as we can, as fast as we can. They know what our ship looks like - we need to be more careful than ever,” he instructed, keeping his orders stern to emphasize their importance. Now that the navy men were gone, and all he faced were the concerned eyes of his crew, he struggled to maintain his stability. 

He wanted to fall apart right here, to break under the fear that had been constricting his ability to breathe for days, but he couldn’t. They needed to sail until the navy ship was but a blip on the horizon, and until then he wouldn’t be able to set down this crushing weight. He had carried it all his life, but in a matter of minutes it had become unbearable, and when he felt Seonghwa vacate his side to rejoin Wooyoung he had to resist the urge to grasp his fragile wrist and pull him closer. 

“Once we are far enough out of sight, I want you all to return out to the deck, right here. I have… a lot I need to tell you, about where I come from and how I got to where we are now” he finally admitted, heart thumping erratically against his ribs as he knew could hide from the truth no longer. He had never told a soul of the horrors he had endured, but now he had been left with no choice. “I would have preferred for you to find this out on my own terms, but we all need to be prepared for what we will face if my father catches up to our ship.” 

Despite how he tried to keep his exterior strong, he knew he was failing from the way they were all looking at him, and he couldn’t stand it. He just stood there until they began to disperse, his body numb and wracked with tremors, unable to move until Yunho wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him away under the guise of discussing a plan. 

In reality, Hongjoong was in no shape for such discussions and Yunho knew it. “You’re okay, Hongjoong. You’re with us, and you’re going to be fine. No matter what it is that you have to tell us, none of us will think of you any differently. We love you, both in the darkness and in the light.” He spoke in a hushed tone, his eyes already shining with unshed tears as he guided Hongjoong towards the helm. “I will take care of navigation with Yeosang, okay? Don’t worry about that.”

Hongjoong’s eyes burned, and Yunho’s warm fingers gripped at his cheeks once they stopped by the railing at the front of the ship, keeping his attention and preventing him from descending into a full blown panic. “I’m sorry,” Hongjoong whispered, struggling to make his lips cooperate as they quivered. 

“Don’t you dare say that,” Yunho replied instantly, his voice strangled as he shook his head. “Hongjoong, I don’t care what story you’re about to tell us, I will never lose the admiration I hold for you. You have been everything to me, even back when I had nothing - you stepped in to become my father, my older brother, and my best friend on this god forsaken earth. Don’t you dare apologize for your emotions, because I will always be here to catch you when you fall, you hear me?”

He grasped Hongjoong’s face hard enough to hurt, his cheeks chapped from the wind, eyes wild in desperation. Hongjoong nodded, though he couldn’t even feel the movement, terrified for a second that his head would roll right off of his shoulders and fall to the deck with a sickening thud. “I know,” he uttered shakily, too numb to cry, or scream, or do anything but stand there. “But if you change your mind once you know the truth, I won’t blame you. I’ve done horrible things, Yunho. I am a monster in every sense of the word.” He looked down at his calloused hands, believing for a moment that his fingers ended in twisted, bloodstained claws. 

For several seconds Yunho just stared at him, expression cold and unflinching, before he spoke again. “I swear to you, I will kill the man who made you think that about yourself if it’s the last thing I fucking do.” Jaw clenched, he tugged Hongjoong forward into a tight embrace, clutching him close and refusing to let him go, big hands pressing strong against his scarred back. “I will never change my mind about you, captain. I would follow you to the deepest pits of hell, sailing seas of roaring fire, if that was what you wanted. I know who you are, and knowing the truth of your past and what you were forced to become to survive won’t change my love for the captain who saved us all.” He paused briefly before continuing, his voice steadfast as the sea weathered cliffs of the mainland. “If you’re a monster, then so am I.” 

Yunho pulled away then, and he wore the glistening tear tracks cresting over his cheekbones with pride, not wiping them away. With a final nod, he joined Yeosang at the wheel to help him steer away from the navy ship, a heavy silence settling over the deck. Hongjoong just remained there by the rails for a long while, hardly present in his own mind as he watched the other ship disappear into the mist of dusk. He didn’t budge for what had to have been a few hours, the sun beginning to set and the skies darkening, before he finally turned around to regard the rest of his crew. 

They stood in groups around the deck, and his eyes caught instantly on the two still sitting on the ground, Seonghwa wrapped tight in Wooyoung’s arms. The surrounding air was chilly, especially as the heat of the sun dissipated, and finally Hongjoong abandoned his post by the rails to cross the deck and enter the cabin. 

Once inside, he made a beeline for his quarters, pushing aside his pillows and grabbing the softest of the blankets covering his bed. He bundled it up in his arms, hugging the soft fleece as he headed back out for the deck. The time to be honest had arrived, he knew that, and yet all he could focus on was the blanket pressing against his chest. 

An assault of cold wind barraged his skin as he stepped back through the cabin door, and as he walked closer to Seonghwa and Wooyoung he realized that Seonghwa was sleeping. For how long, Hongjoong didn’t know, but he stopped in his tracks and just watched the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest for a moment, his lips parted gently and his head resting against Wooyoung’s chest. He looked so peaceful, and Hongjoong hated himself for having to interrupt. 

The sun had turned golden, illuminating Wooyoung’s skin as he looked up at Hongjoong, a soft curve to his lips. “It’s okay, he’s been drifting in and out of sleep,” he murmured, and Hongjoong shuffled closer. As if on cue, Seonghwa began to stir, a soft sound escaping his lips as he blinked blearily up at Wooyoung before taking note of Hongjoong’s presence and lifting his head up from the boy’s chest. “It’s getting chilly out,” Hongjoong said quietly, and he unfurled the blanket in his arms before carefully laying it over the two of them, making sure that all was covered aside from their necks down. 

“Are we meeting out on the deck now?” Wooyoung asked, and his voice contained a hint of reluctance, fear dancing in his eyes at the thought of learning the truth of Hongjoong’s past. The sight made his heart ache, and he nodded minutely, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

“Everyone is coming to sit over here, you both can stay.” Not that he had actually told any of the crew that, but as he sat down beside the two of them, it was only a matter of minutes before the rest of the crew joined them. He knew that they had been waiting for him to be ready, and there had been no need to call them over. 

The eight of them formed a loose circle, and Hongjoong’s discomfort swelled at the feeling of so many pairs of eyes watching him, his skin crawling under the pressure that suddenly obstructed his airway. He forced himself to take a deep breath, the words spilling from his lips before he could even figure out what he wanted to say. “I know this is perhaps not the natural way you all should have learned these things, but I am partly at fault for that. I should have told you this story long ago - it is not that I don’t trust you all, but rather I was scared to face my own memories,” Hongjoong admitted, raw honesty the only emotion he had left, his voice grating upon his own ears. He still didn’t think he would be able to face the truth, a cold sweat breaking over his skin as he sat there surrounded by the people he loved, terrified of what they would think of him after this. 

He flinched imperceptibly when a soft hand brushed against his own, delicate fingers wrapping around his own weathered ones. The hand belonged to Seonghwa, he knew that without needing to look, for he had spent so many sleepless hours remembering how it felt to hold his hand. The touch brought him the support he needed to continue, and he clutched onto Seonghwa’s hand as he prepared himself to speak, his heart already lodged in his throat.

“I grew up in the largest naval base within this hemisphere, and my father was the head of the entire navy branch that resided there,” he began, though they had certainly figured this part out already. “He still is, though I am no longer a part of that, obviously. I stopped their ship using a military signal, the same one my father uses. I was raised to be his successor, and I was taught all kinds of things about sailing and running a ship ever since I was a child. They even taught me to read star maps and navigate using the night sky.” At these words, Hongjoong squeezed Seonghwa’s hand softly, providing an explanation for the cryptic words he had said during their time together under the stars. 

“My mother died while giving birth to me, and I never knew of any other family aside from my father, though our connection was through blood only.” Hongjoong swallowed thickly, his jaw already beginning to ache due to the tension that had collected there, his vision misting over. Once he delved into this part of his past, he didn’t know how he would handle it - he had never spoken about his abuse aloud before. “He despised me since the day I was born, blaming me for her death and locking me away like I was merely a machine whose sole purpose was to follow in his footsteps, rather than a child who needed care. I was only allowed outside when I was being taught how to sail, otherwise I was never permitted to go anywhere on my own.”

He pressed his lips together tightly as he tried to keep his emotions at bay, though he felt completely lost within his own body, unable to control his physical reaction to the memories he had begun to pull from the shadows of his mind. A chill spread over his arms and down his spine, nausea churning in his gut as he clung to Seonghwa’s hand, his only tether to the physical world as he drowned within his own skin. 

“My father - he was, and still is, a monster in every sense of the word,” he choked out through numb lips, and he swore he could feel Yunho’s gaze burning straight through to his soul, for he had spoken those exact words about himself a few hours before. “He is perhaps the only person on this earth I have ever feared - the other ship’s captain had not been wrong about that, despite how desperately I wish he was. He did terrible things, not only to me but to countless others.” But so have I. 

As the members of his crew stared back at him with eyes round and dripping with horror already, Hongjoong knew that he would need to speak of the truth as vaguely as possible. Both for his own sake and for theirs - he couldn’t stand to relive the specific traumas he had faced, and he didn’t want to tarnish their innocence by telling them of evils they couldn’t even fathom. 

With another deep breath, he continued, unable to hear anything but the deafening sound of his own voice. “My father nearly beat me to the point of death more than once. I was too small, too weak, and no matter how well I succeeded in the lessons I was given he was never satisfied. Nothing about me has ever been good enough for him, and if I showed any indication of resistance, or pain, or any emotion aside from fear, the punishment grew far worse. He conditioned me to be nothing more than a scared, meek little boy.” Hongjoong couldn’t control his lips as they trembled, his entire body unnaturally hot and freezing cold at the same time. The faces of his crew had turned into blurred masses as tears gathered in his eyes, and he tried to blink them away to no avail.

Pain concentrated in his chest so viscerally that he glanced down expecting to find a knife buried to the hilt there, blood soaking through his clothing and staining the deck. Dimly he understood that his once firm grip on his emotions was slipping further than it ever had before, and he couldn’t even feel Seonghwa’s hand in his own anymore, so disconnected from his own body. “There were times - he had to bring someone in, to set my bones back into place and stitch me up so I wouldn’t die.” He coughed into his free hand, the sound wet and thick, and as he pulled his palm away his vision flashed back to a memory from long, long ago. A much smaller hand, soft and supple in youth, stained with blood. All five of the fingers warped and twisted, their bones snapped like brittle twigs. 

A cursed blade slipping free of his contorted grasp, a dead pirate at his five year old feet. 

Gasping for air, Hongjoong forced himself to continue, squeezing his eyes shut against the memories, though he achieved nothing by doing so. How could he possibly escape when the horrors were inside, clawing his organs and muscles and ligaments to shreds as they grappled their way up his throat, desperate to see the light after years of being caged? “Because he wanted to keep me alive, to use as his punching bag, to get off on his own power over a child. I often could hear through the walls when he would bring in prostitutes off the streets, and do terrible things to them. I never saw any of it, but what I heard was enough.” His voice broke as he remembered those women, eyes as dead as their souls, killed by his father’s cruelty.

He remembered how they had always flinched at the sight of Hongjoong as well, for the family resemblance was uncanny. 

Recalling something Seonghwa had told him that had always stuck with him, he tried to keep himself from shattering, though eventually there were too many cracks for two hands to cover. “Someone very dear to my heart once told me that there are monsters who become that way by choice, and monsters who are formed as a product of their own hurt. He was the former in every possible way. There was always this desire within me, to expose his wrongdoing and stand up to him, but with every broken bone and whip of his belt I lost the nerve. There was just - there was no one. I never learned how a person was supposed to be treated, because I never experienced it for myself.” 

It was with those words that Hongjoong finally fell apart completely, cries bursting free from his lips even as he tried to stop them, ducking his head and pressing a hand to his lips as if that would make any difference. His back shook with the force of his sobs, and he couldn’t breathe for several long moments, the screams from his lungs drowned out by his heart’s wails of agony. All of the pain he had repressed for his entire life hit him at once, and he just crumbled, wheezing and choking on his own tears as they dripped into his mouth. He didn’t taste salt - he tasted blood, thick and cloying and drowning him inside of his own skin. 

“One day, when I was about fifteen or sixteen years old, I couldn’t take it anymore. I would have rather died than lived my life as my father’s mindless successor, and I escaped. He’d become lazy with security, never truly thinking I would leave, and it was easier than it should have been. I stole a navy ship, one that I was familiar with, and I sailed away by myself. I never saw him again after that.

“I went to the nearest port, traded the ship for this one, and I set sail. Never did I imagine I would find a crew to sail with me, but I slowly found all of you.” Hongjoong didn’t even know if they could understand him at this point, for though his lips moved he couldn’t hear himself speak, rough coughs tearing his throat from the inside. “You were truly the best thing to ever happen to me - you taught me that love is real, made me realize that what I’d grown up accustomed to was wrong. I didn’t even know it was wrong.”

The admission hit him full force, and his cries increased in intensity, his chest moments away from caving in completely. These seven people were the only ones who had ever shown him love in his entire life, and he needed them to understand that. He needed to apologize for everything he had done to make that a more difficult task, because he couldn’t for the life of him understand why they had bothered, and the thought of losing that was more terrifying than any torture. 

“I just - I needed to protect you all, to prevent you from ever encountering anything like I did. When our old doctor betrayed us, gave up our plans to another crew, I was so close to losing that. I can’t lose any of you - I can’t. I couldn’t see Seonghwa for who he truly was, because I was so scared to open my heart, to uncloud my eyes. It was easier to force a narrative onto him to keep you all safe.” His voice had turned frantic now, and he couldn’t see through his own tears as they soaked into his collar, his breaths escaping in ragged pants as his ribcage and skull closed in on his heart and mind, prisons of bone that allowed his worst fears to fester unrestrained. 

He was scared, and weak, and everything his father had ever condemned him to be. No one had ever shown him love, so he still didn’t know how to give and receive it, and he needed them to understand that he had tried. He had tried so hard to be the person they needed, to overcome an upbringing full of pain, but he still didn’t know how to make it known how much he cared for them. He cared for them so much that it physically hurt, and if his father stole him away before he could explain that to them, then he would suffer a fate far worse than death, or abuse, or any of the other horrors his father would force him to endure. 

All he wanted was for them to know the depth of the oceans of love he felt for them, to understand that they would never again have to feel alone in this life, or in all of the ones that would follow. Until their souls returned to stardust, he would keep them safe as the sole thing he was good for, and he hoped that it would always be enough. He hoped that they wouldn’t grow tired of his volatile nature, how he lacked in every area compared to their radiance. 

A strong squeeze of his hand stirred him back to consciousness long enough to hear Seonghwa speak, as if he had heard Hongjoong’s thoughts and had chosen his words to directly combat them “Hongjoong,” he started, though Hongjoong couldn’t bring himself to look up. “You are brave. You survived, and you were able to live despite everything he did to prevent that. No one ever showed you love, but yet you are overflowing with it in everything you do. It is clear how much you care for us, no one has ever doubted that. But Hongjoong, you need to let go, to allow us to love you too. Because you are worthy of love, no matter what your father told you.”

Those final words struck at the strings of his heart, playing a mournful tune as he dared to raise his head, eyes burning and swollen as he stared at the man he had come to love more than he had ever thought his pathetic heart capable. Just one glance at Seonghwa, and he began to sob louder than before, his walls crumbling to fine dust as he allowed himself to feel the full extent of his pain for the first time in his life. 

Seonghwa opened his arms right on time, and Hongjoong fell into his embrace, finding the warmth he had craved but never allowed himself to have. With arms holding him tight, a hand cradling the back of his head and his nose pressing against the soft skin of Seonghwa’s neck, Hongjoong felt like he was returning to a home that he hadn’t even remembered until being welcomed at the door. A fireplace burned bright within, warming his very soul, and he swore he could hear laughter in the next room.

He wondered if perhaps their souls had entwined in lives before this one, for their bodies slotted together now in the same way that the waves met the shore - calm at times and rough at others, but never relenting. 

“Remember what you told me? That crying wasn’t something to be embarrassed of, but rather a show of strength? You understood me when I needed that most, Hongjoong, and it is my turn to do that for you. It does not make you weak to mourn your inner child, to cry for what you suffered,” murmured Seonghwa softly, running his hand gently through Hongjoong’s hair, and all Hongjoong could do was cry. 

He cried for the pain he suffered from the first days of his life, the cruelty that had infiltrated every part of his life. He cried for the people he had killed and the pain he had caused, for if he had been given the choice, he would have wanted to grow up gentle. 

But most of all, he cried for his crew as they sat around him now, pillars of support that had changed his life without even knowing it. The tears flowed like an endless sea as he kept one last secret from them, the truth of what he would do once his father arrived - they couldn’t know, and it broke his heart. 

If Hongjoong were to look at himself through a magnified lens, just like the ones he used to look up at the stars sometimes, he would find the rough fingerprints of one man covering every surface of his skin, overlapping the scars created by that same cruel hand. But he would also find a smattering of gentler ones layered over the top, the tender touches of the seven boys he loved more than anything in this world, and he wished that he could stay with them until their fingerprints blotted out the ones of his father. 

Seonghwa continued to hold him as the sky darkened, the eight of them remaining on the deck in silence, only Hongjoong’s cries still carrying off into the wind. His heart had never felt more fragile, but being around the people he loved made it less scary to feel vulnerable, for he could feel their devotion warm his skin despite the chill of the impending night. 

The silence was not uncomfortable or tense, but rather hopeful and full of love. In the eyes of the rest of the crew, there were no secrets between them anymore - only a heightened desire to love each other correctly, to make up for the scars of the past. Hongjoong cried for his own guilt, because he knew they would only be able to show him such love for a short time longer. 

~

Several hours later, Hongjoong was lying with his back flat against the upper deck, staring up at the stars. He wasn’t quite sure how long he had been here for, but he would be a fool if attempted sleep after all of the memories he had dislodged from their cobwebbed corners of his mind. 

Not so keen to revisit them, he instead scanned his eyes over the constellations above, his heart finally beating normally again after the stress of the day. The pain was far from over, but he was too exhausted to linger on that fact right now, no tears left to cry. Instead, he just enjoyed the calm for what would probably be the last time, hoping that he would be joined by a visitor as the moon traveled along its nightly path. 

He didn’t have to wait long before he heard the cabin door open, and he didn’t bother to sit up until Seonghwa was much closer, pretending that he hadn’t heard the man approach. Little did he know, Hongjoong had memorized the sounds of his footsteps. 

Clad in pajamas, Seonghwa had clearly been unable to sleep, his cheeks tinged pink and his eyes bleary. He looked adorable like this, and Hongjoong smiled easily, his heart swelling. “Usually I’m the one coming to bother you,” he said lightly, though he shifted aside to make room for Seonghwa as he spoke. Seonghwa sat down beside him, not bothering to leave any space in between, their arms brushing together and sending shivers along Hongjoong’s skin. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Seonghwa explained, and Hongjoong nodded, for he understood that far too well. He lowered himself back down until he was laying against the wooden floorboards again, sighing in contentment. 

“Me neither. There’s a lot to think about.” He didn’t need to explain further, and Seonghwa moved to lay beside him, no awkwardness lingering between the two of them anymore. They were fully comfortable with one another, and Hongjoong brushed his fingers lightly against the side of Seonghwa’s hand, watching him as he looked up at the stars. 

A few moments passed before Seonghwa turned as well, and then they were staring at one another instead of the sky, and Hongjoong found that he liked this a lot better. He noted the soft purse of Seonghwa’s lips, and he wished to feel them just once, the only part of Seonghwa’s face he hadn’t been able to memorize to their full extent. Gentle fingers touched the back of his hand, warm against his cold skin, and he forced himself to look back up at Seonghwa’s eyes. “Are you alright?” Seonghwa asked, voice quiet amidst the calm of the night around them. 

The concern in his words made Hongjoong smile, and he spoke a half truth in return, concealing his bitterness. “Yeah, I think I am. For the first time I feel like I’m actually okay, like I’m not pretending.” It was partially true, for Hongjoong did feel lighter now that he had finally told his crew the truth about his past, but his father’s arrival still hung over every move he made. He couldn’t confess that, however, so he instead chose to ignore it, desperate to enjoy one of his final moments with Seonghwa under the stars. 

Seonghwa shifted his fingers to intertwine with Hongjoong’s then, and they both turned back to the night sky. For so long, the constellations had been Hongjoong’s personal escape, and he had never expected to share the stars with another soul so intimately. But after these moments together, he found that he preferred this over being alone, and his eyes found Polaris twinkling down on them instantly. 

“I see the big dipper,” Seonghwa said softly, and Hongjoong smiled even though he knew his companion couldn’t see the expression. It was strange, because for so long he had only ever produced such expressions for the benefit of others, but now he found that he smiled simply because Seonghwa made him happy, regardless of who could see. 

He hummed, the sound content as he traced his gaze over the big dipper as well. “You know, it was during my childhood that I learned to identify the stars. They were my escape from my father’s cruelty, and I often spoke to them, as if maybe there was someone listening. Even after I ran away, I still spent most of my nights not dissimilar to how we are now. For some reason, I didn’t associate the stars with my pain, despite their correlation. There were times I screamed up at the sky, angry at the world, but it was only because I felt like it was safe to confide in the stars,” he mused, and no pain reignited in his chest at the words, for he had cried all of it out already. 

As he continued, he allowed himself to speak candidly, finding that he was more willing to take such risks when he had so little time left. “That night you were out here after having nightmares, the night we fought, I had been looking up at the stars in my room beforehand. It was then that I understood I needed to apologize, even though things didn’t go according to that plan. Still, something shifted now, and I don’t feel like I need to tell my hopes and fears to the stars anymore, because I can just tell them to you.” 

When Seonghwa responded, Hongjoong could hear the warmth in his words, surrounding the two of them like their own personal bundle of starlight. “That’s all I ever wanted, you know. For you to be able to confide in someone. You’re the captain, it’s your job to keep it together around your crew, but if all you do is take care of them then someone needs to take care of you, too.” 

And for the first time Hongjoong understood what he meant, for after the embrace they had shared when he had fully broken down, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to confess those terrible truths if Seonghwa hadn’t been there to hold him up. Even just the touch of his hand had been enough to provide strength, and he wondered if Seonghwa knew the full extent of the power he held. 

“I thought you were crazy for climbing up to the crow’s nest with me today - I felt guilty, and I wanted to stop you but I knew I couldn’t. You are incredibly stubborn, after all. But it meant a lot to me, that you would face your own fear just so I didn’t have to be alone,” Hongjoong admitted. “If you hadn’t done that, I don’t know if I would have been able to say everything that I did tonight.” 

“I would do it again,” Seonghwa responded easily, and they fell silent for a short while, just soaking in each other’s company amidst the calm of the night. Hongjoong’s heart warmed when Seonghwa began to hum, for he was pleased that even after all that had changed today, the man still felt content in his presence. 

“Always humming,” Hongjoong commented, though his voice was incredibly fond. The sound filled him with hope to a borderline irrational degree, and before he could stop himself he was spewing words that he should have kept to himself, a hope that he hadn’t dared to allow himself to consider. “You know, we’ll make it out of this alive. I don’t know how, but we have to. Do you want to know why?”

He glanced over at Seonghwa to watch him nod, his humming ceasing for the moment as he listened. And Hongjoong should have kept his damn mouth shut, but he had never been good at that, and he spoke the truth of his heart before he could stop himself. “It’s simple, really. I want to spend the rest of my life with you out here, lying beneath the stars whenever we want to. No more violence, just all eight of us sailing the seas together, going wherever we want and growing old together.” 

I want to spend the rest of my life with you. No small declaration - pirates didn’t believe in marriage like the rest of the world, and Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa had already learned of that. Instead, they believed in finding a life partner, a person to sail the seas with until death came knocking, and Hongjoong had known for a long time that Seonghwa owned his heart. He would have done anything for the man lying beside him, no matter how impossible, and he couldn’t leave this ship without making it known. 

Seonghwa moved his head to the side until it was resting on Hongjoong’s shoulder, a smile on his lips “That sounds perfect,” he whispered, and Hongjoong shivered at the words, wishing so badly that this useless dream could come true, that they could avoid their inevitable tragic end. “I would like to sail everywhere, no more battles, just all of us together.”

Concealing his urge to laugh with a sigh, Hongjoong grinned, too endeared to ever find himself bothered by Seonghwa’s oblivious nature. “Just all of us together” had certainly not been what he meant, but none of it really mattered anyway, and he felt too happy to argue even in jest. 

“There’s still so much I want to show you, you know. There’s all kinds of beautiful things to see - natural pools, seaside marshes, the northern lights, glaciers, you name it. I bet you’ve never seen any of those things, have you?” He knew what the answer would be, of course, and he felt Seonghwa’s head shake where it rested against his shoulder. 

“Can you tell me about them?” he asked, and Hongjoong was quick to grant his wish, wrapping his arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders as he squeezed his other hand, their fingers still laced tightly together. 

“Of course I can,” he answered. “It’s hard to imagine, that someone as beautiful inside and out as you has never seen any of the world’s most natural wonders.” Seonghwa blushed, probably assuming it had been a joke to garner such a reaction, but Hongjoong meant every word. 

“There are beautiful natural pools all around, usually on the small islands we come across. The water is always clear and warm, and the scenery is beautiful. They occur where there is a large hole in the rock on a shoreline, which fills with water and becomes warm from the sunlight. Once this is all over, I’ll take you to one of them. It’ll be our first stop,” Hongjoong explained, voice pleasant even to his own ears.

“Sometimes, we come across these coastal marshes, with trees that have massive roots extending out of the water. They’re full of animals, and we can spend hours just watching the wildlife. Once, we saw a manatee - a big, underwater animal. They’re very gentle, they just eat underwater grass and float along the marsh,” he continued, smiling at the memory.

“I would like to see a manatee,” Seonghwa pondered, the unfamiliar word fumbling over his lips adorably. “I like animals,” he added in a murmur, and Hongjoong remembered what he had said about taking care of stray animals on the streets. “I haven’t seen any in a while, though.”

His voice turned slightly sad at that, and Hongjoong was quick to reassure him, determined to keep him happy tonight before the stress set in tomorrow. “We can see all kinds of animals - I’ll show you them all,” he reassured, squeezing Seonghwa’s shoulders.

Seonghwa smiled softly, and Hongjoong’s love for him was getting worse. “That sounds perfect,” he said before falling silent, allowing Hongjoong to continue telling him of nature’s beautiful creations.

“The northern lights, you’re going to love that one. They are also referred to as the aurora borealis, colored lights that illuminate the sky. Green, purple, yellow, blue, every color you can think of,” Hongjoong introduced, and he laughed when Seonghwa’s eyebrows raised in disbelief, clearly not convinced that such colors could exist in nature. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s real, I promise. When we do see them, you and I can lay on the deck just like this, watching them for as long as we want to.”

He wanted nothing more than to experience these things with Seonghwa by his side, for he knew that his companion had missed out on so many of the beautiful things life had to offer. Hongjoong wanted him to be able to experience them all, surrounded by the people he loved. 

When Seonghwa looked up at him, clearly waiting for him to continue, he complied. “Glaciers are totally different - they’re like huge masses of ice, bigger than you can even imagine. The sun reflects off of them, and the sight is breathtaking. We’ll have to stay warm, though, because they only exist if we sail up north,” he informed, rather pleased at the idea. He could imagine Seonghwa bundled in winter clothing, the tip of his nose red and flakes of snow clinging to his lashes, though he was sure the real life image would be more beautiful than anything his brain could conjure in the meantime.

He returned his gaze to the stars as he paused momentarily, and an entirely new thought struck him. “Did you know there’s also a ton of astronomical events that we’ll be lucky enough to see? There’s shooting stars, and eclipses, and meteor showers, and all kinds of other things. They happen every now and then, and I’ve seen a few in my years on this ship. In the future, we’ll be able to see all of them together.” The thought filled him with excitement, and he allowed himself this one night to hope for such dreams to come true. They were both adults, but they’d missed so much of their lives up until this point that even just the thought of seeing a shooting star together felt like a miracle.

“We’ll see them all,” Seonghwa echoed, and Hongjoong hugged him a little bit closer, pulling his head to rest fully on his chest as he continued to tell him about every beautiful thing he could think of, describing them as best as he could and answering all of Seonghwa’s questions without protest. Eventually, they both fell silent again, and Hongjoong felt perhaps more content than he’d ever felt before. Just this one night, he was allowed to imagine what that kind of future could be like, and he would hold onto it for as long as he could before he needed to face reality once more.

Seonghwa began to hum another lilting tune, this time a hopeful sound, and it danced around the two of them as their bodies pressed even closer, Seonghwa’s head on Hongjoong’s chest and their legs intertwined against the deck. Hongjoong hardly even noticed when Seonghwa began to drift off to sleep until his humming came to a halt, and he ran his fingers through soft locks of hair, soothing himself to sleep as well. The last thing he heard was soft snoring before he began to drift off, and they both fell asleep out there on the deck, beneath a blanket of stars.

Chapter Text

In the two weeks of peace that followed, Hongjoong visited the stars every night, and he rarely had to lie there alone for long before Seonghwa came to join him. Sometimes they talked the entire time, but sometimes they just laid beside each other and drew strength from the company, sides pressing together and fingers intertwined. 

His father’s arrival was imminent - Hongjoong knew this, and dread occupied his every passing thought, shrouding his mind in shadow as he tried not to think about what would become of him once taken from this ship. Sometimes he cried when he was alone, fat tears that stained his pillow in the solitude of his room as he remembered what it had felt like to be beaten almost to the point of death, to watch a pair of eyes drain of life as he stabbed an innocent soul clean through the chest. 

As the end drew near, all he could feel was fear, lodging in his throat and making it so difficult to breathe that he forgot how it felt to fill his lungs completely with salty air. He was merely going through the motions of what living should have been, and he hated that most of all, because he had intended to push aside his fear and enjoy his final moments with his crew. 

But he was only human, and he couldn’t just force his heart not to break. Every time he looked at his crew, he swore he could feel chasms splitting the muscle of his heart, and the pain had been unrelenting no matter how he tried to keep it at bay. Even without being here physically, the mere thought of his father had already begun to ruin his peace on the ship that had always been his home, and he hated how one man could still control him after all this time. 

As he stared up at the stars now, he wondered if the view would be any different from his room at the naval base. For all he knew, he could be thrown somewhere without a window at all, but Hongjoong had a feeling that his father would want to make him feel as small as possible by returning him to his childhood prison. The thought of being trapped inside of those walls again made his skin crawl and his stomach cramp with nausea, and a chill wracked his frame as he pressed his lips together, hating how his eyes burned. 

His crew had made him soft, and while he loved them for it he also wished he could have been stronger in the face of the devil when he came knocking upon their door. He had gotten used to this life free of his father’s wrath, and he wasn’t sure that he would be able to survive it all again. 

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 

When the soft steps of his usual nighttime companion reverberated along the wooden floorboards of the deck, Hongjoong didn’t turn around this time, unwilling to face in his direction until he had to. He felt more down than usual tonight, resigned to his fate even as the fear scratched at the walls of his mind, leaving deep grooves behind. Usually he was able to put on a brave face around his crew, but he felt dangerously close to crying already as Seonghwa settled down beside him tonight. 

In his heart, he knew that this would be the last time. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to know that, but he swore he could feel the ominous current below their ship, the darkening of the clouds as they began to obscure the skies up above. He should have treasured this time, plastering a smile over his lips and spending his last night with Seonghwa surrounded by bittersweet joy, but his heart simply couldn’t stand it anymore. This pain was all consuming, and when Seonghwa spoke, the words pierced his heart like the knife he had wielded as a child. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, voice gentle and unassuming, and Hongjoong felt concerned eyes burning through the side of his face. His breath hitched at the question, the simultaneous urge to say way too much and nothing at all warring within his mind, and he could do nothing but stare forward and choke on all of the words he wanted to say until a tender hand brushed against his jaw. 

He flinched away more violently than he should have, the memory of his father’s abuse too close to the surface, fingers already trembling as he gasped for breath. Seonghwa’s hand still lingered inches away as he stared at Hongjoong, pain shining in his eyes. “Oh, Hongjoong,” he murmured, and he sounded so sad, his expression so startlingly human that Hongjoong wished he could have turned away. 

He couldn’t bring himself to accept any comfort tonight, because that would only make tomorrow more difficult. If he allowed himself to fall into Seonghwa’s arms, he would never want to leave. But even then, his love for the man beside him never faltered, even when battered and barraged by fear and pain and the awful cloying sadness that refused to let him go. 

Hongjoong knew this wouldn’t last, but he still loved Seonghwa just as strongly anyway, because this was his last chance to do so. He loved him like he always had, only this time he did so with tears clouding his vision and grief strangling his heart. “It’s fine - I’m fine,” he whispered, though the words trembled and ultimately defeated their meaning. “I have to be fine.”

A soft, involuntary sound escaped Seonghwa’s lips, and he reached forward again now that Hongjoong was looking in his direction and wouldn’t be startled. As soon as the soft palm brushed against his cheek, Hongjoong closed his eyes, lips wavering as tears stung his lashes. “You aren’t,” Seonghwa observed mournfully, his lips turned down at the corners. “And that’s okay, but don’t lie to me. You don’t have to do that anymore.” 

A bitter laugh threatened to burst from Hongjoong’s mouth, and he swallowed it down, shaking his head. If only Seonghwa knew the truth - Hongjoong had been lying for weeks, and if he told the truth now then it all would have been for nothing. “How is it that you haven’t given in to hopelessness? We don’t stand a chance when my father comes, so how can you stand to sit here and ask me if I’m okay? My feelings won’t matter when I’m dead - none of it will. I just don’t understand why you bother anymore.” He hadn’t intended for such bitterness to leach into his words, but neither of them could deny its presence, and Seonghwa pulled his hand away with a weary sigh. 

“Regardless of that, how you feel matters to me now, alright?” His voice was quiet, a sharp contrast to Hongjoong’s abrasive tone just a few moments before, and guilt nibbled at his moth-eaten heart. This could be their last moment alone together, and he would ruin it if he continued to wallow in self pity, but he didn’t know how to feel anything else right then. He felt enough hopelessness for the both of them, and despite the hard set of his face, he felt a hot tear roll over his wind chilled cheek. 

Seonghwa’s frown deepened, and he pressed a thumb over the bead of moisture, collecting it against the pad of his finger. “To answer your question, it’s because I can’t. If I give into hopelessness, then your father has already won, and I’ve fought far too hard in my life to go down so easily. I fought to keep myself alive when I had nothing, but now I have seven people that I love more than the world itself. And it’s a privilege to be able to fight for love like this, because I know that I possess something our enemies will never have. So even if we die, I don’t think that means we’ve lost. Not when our souls have forged bonds that run deeper than this physical plane.” 

He tried to smile, but the expression wavered, and Hongjoong found that he wasn’t the only one blinking through tears. “All of you have changed my life, and I will do everything in my power to keep us all here, sailing on this ship until the day we die, years and years from now. But if fate has chosen otherwise for us, and we’ve been destined for tragedy all this time, then there is no one else I would rather die beside. Regardless of whether we grow wings or plummet into the pits of hell, we’ll be in it together. And when you think of it that way, isn’t death just the beginning?”

For someone who had essentially raised himself, Seonghwa possessed an eloquence that Hongjoong had never before encountered, and he was momentarily stunned into silence by the question. As Seonghwa sat there with his cheekbones shadowed like half moons and his eyes pooling with tears of liquid starlight, his beauty had never been more painful to bear witness to, his lips still curved in a shaky smile despite the shadows that gathered below his brows. 

“I hope you’re right,” Hongjoong whispered, hardly able to hear his own voice and hating himself for allowing the sentiment to pass by his lips all the while. He didn’t want to hope, because he knew how this would end - he was the only one who knew, and his bones were creaking under the weight, his joints aching just as they did when it rained. But when Seonghwa said things like that, he couldn’t help it. “I hope that we’ll meet again, no matter what happens. In another life, where no one will hurt us simply because we exist.” 

In another life, Hongjoong would be searching for the prettiest seashells on the shore of a small coastal town with Wooyoung and Yeosang, and he would be as radiant as they were. He would return home, and Seonghwa would be waiting for him, his skin clear of scars and his smile free of strain. The rest of his friends would be there too, and he wouldn’t ever have to worry about keeping them safe, because nothing would threaten them. 

And yet, as beautiful as that sounded, Hongjoong would still mourn this life whenever he looked out at the sea, or felt a particularly strong gust of wind blow through his hair. He didn't think he would be able to love his crew as much as this in any other life. 

But how could he grieve a love that had yet to die? The end was inevitable, he knew that with more certainty than anybody, and yet when Seonghwa’s eyes gleamed like that, Hongjoong wanted to believe that it wasn’t. That maybe they could still find each other again in this life, as well as the ones that would follow. 

What if this didn’t have to be the end? What if he could find a way to make it back to the crew that had given him a reason to live for the first time in his life? Hongjoong had always welcomed the thought of death, but now he rioted violently against it, desperate to live out his days with the people he loved. Allowing himself to cup his hands around the fragile flame of hope that Seonghwa had ignited in his chest would only make his tragic end more painful, but when he looked into the eyes of the man he loved, he understood that maybe hope was worth the pain. 

“I hope so too,” Seonghwa murmured, looking far older than his years at that moment. “And that is all we can do. I don’t want to spend my final hours dwelling in misery, even if we truly don’t stand a chance. I would rather face the execution with my hands clenched into fists and a fire burning in my eyes, and maybe I’ll even take a few of them down with me before I go.” 

Hongjoong’s lips twitched at that, for he could see the image in his mind clear as day. Seonghwa had always been a fighter, and hearing him speak this way without hesitation pushed down some of Hongjoong’s fear, drawing strength from the formidable man at his side. “You’ll take down more than a few - I’ve seen you fight. I wouldn’t be surprised if you took down the entire ship with nothing but your bare hands.” He knew the fight would never escalate to that point, but he still allowed himself for a moment to imagine how Seonghwa would look in the face of unavoidable death. Though the stars were beautiful from afar, they were really just flaming balls of plasma capable of incinerating the world to ash in an instant, and hadn’t he always compared Seonghwa to the stars? 

A delicate hand reached over to cover Hongjoong’s smaller one where it rested against the deck, the two of them sitting side by side as they stared at the churning seas ahead, Hongjoong’s knees pulled up to his chest. “It’s gonna be okay, you know. I promise,” Seonghwa said after a brief silence, and Hongjoong stiffened reflexively, hating how his heart still seized at that word. 

“You can’t promise that,” he responded, voice gruff and nothing like it had been moments before, Seonghwa’s attempt at comfort cutting him deep as the raw ends of his memories were torn open all over again. “Don’t make promises that you can’t keep - it never ends well. You can’t just throw that word around - you can’t.” Dimly, he understood that he was making no sense, and he could feel Seonghwa’s gaze turn back to concern as it lingered over his face, his skin erupting in chills. 

Shaking his head hard enough to produce strain in his neck, Hongjoong pulled his hand away from beneath Seonghwa’s touch as if he had been scalded. “Hongjoong, it’s okay - please, look at me,” Seonghwa pleaded, and Hongjoong tried to swallow away his panic, his entire body trembling over something so insignificant. He hated this part of himself, and he wished that he had been able to hide, but with Seonghwa’s gaze remaining steadfast he had never felt more exposed.

This was the man who had always been able to see right through him, and Hongjoong stared down at a knot of wood on the deck as his breaths rushed past clenched teeth, the pounding of his heart echoing through his limbs. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t stop himself from reacting like this, but he had always been careful with promises - they held too much to be spoken lightly. A memory surged, and his vision went black for a split second, an anguished scream he would never forget ringing in his ears. 

“-joong! Hongjoong, please! Your memories aren’t real - you’re here with me, okay? You’re here with Seonghwa. Just breathe,” Seonghwa urged, and though his voice was frantic he kept his volume low and his hands a safe distance away, understanding that Hongjoong didn’t react well to loud voices and sudden touches. He had figured that out all on his own, and Hongjoong’s heart ached with the force of the unspoken love in the gesture, the realization that perhaps Seonghwa had been watching him just as closely, all this time. 

Digging his nails into his chest hard enough to hurt, Hongjoong forced himself to inhale deeply, even as panic seized his lungs. He couldn’t break down like this, not so close to his father’s imminent arrival, and he instead focused on Seonghwa’s continued stream of soothing words. Seonghwa was capable of understanding him in a way that the others never could, and Hongjoong clutched onto that thought as his vision cleared, shifting his vulnerable gaze to fall upon his companion. “I’m sorry,” he tried to say, though his voice broke and produced nothing but air. But even then, Seonghwa read his lips, nodding softly to encourage him to continue. “I - I don’t like promises. They just remind me of someone, and I… I lost myself for a minute. I didn’t mean to.” 

Not a trace of blame was contained within Seonghwa’s features, his brows furrowing in concern as he extended a hesitant hand. He watched Hongjoong’s face for signs of fear, but when he found none he completed the movement, brushing the bangs from his face so he could look straight through Hongjoong’s eyes, seeing all the way to his kindred soul. “Who was it that broke a promise and hurt you this much?” he asked, a tender furrow to his brows, and Hongjoong closed his eyes as his self hatred surged. 

“It was me.” The admission was no louder than a whisper, but it drowned out the roar of the winds and the harsh crash of the waves against the hull. “I broke a promise that I never should have made, and I have regretted it every day since then. Seonghwa, I have done things more terrible than you can probably imagine, okay? I am not a good person - not by any means.” 

He watched as Seonghwa frowned, noticing that his cheeks shone in the moonlight, though he hadn’t been present enough to see the tears fall. “When will you realize that I don’t care? Do you forget that I have been on the receiving end of that part of yourself, and that still doesn’t make me love you any less?” His questions hung in the space between the two of them for a moment, and Hongjoong’s heart still skipped a beat despite the situation. “You can tell me anything. I understand you, Hongjoong, and I’m not afraid of you. Nothing you could ever tell me would change that.” 

Hongjoong could only stare at him then, taking in the honesty written along his features and the desperation contained in his eyes, and he found that he actually believed him. Intaking a shuddering breath, he let go of as much of his tension as he could, hugging his knees to his chest and swallowing thickly. “I made a promise once, to one of the prostitutes my father kept around,” he blurted, suddenly desperate to tell the story aloud instead of letting it fester within. 

Glancing towards Seonghwa, he unconsciously sought the reassurance that he needed to continue. “He was constantly cycling through different women, but this one - I saw a spark still alive within her, unlike all of the rest. All of the other women were terrified of me due to the resemblance, but she wasn’t, I could tell. She didn’t flinch away from me like the rest.” He shook his head, tears burning at his eyes all over again as he allowed himself to remember. 

“I found a way to pull her aside eventually, and I promised her that I would help her to escape. I hadn’t even figured out how to escape myself yet - I was still young, at the time - but I couldn’t look at her and do nothing. Even after all my father had done to me, a part of me still wanted to be good, and when I heard her screams through the walls I knew I had to do something.” Hongjoong faltered here, choking on his words as he failed to blink away the tears, and though his heart yearned to reach out for Seonghwa’s embrace he kept his arms firmly locked around his knees. 

“She - she told me that she had a child. A little girl, and she had only turned to prostitution in order to keep her. And Seonghwa, that was the first time I ever understood that love was real, because she would have done anything for her daughter, I could see it in her face. I can still see it whenever I think of her. I had never experienced a relationship like that, and I just - I wanted to save her so badly. I wanted to do just one good thing, to prove to myself that maybe I wasn’t so innately cruel.”

A soft sob fell from Hongjoong’s lips, but he continued to speak, for he figured that he owed her this much. She deserved for her story to be told. “But my father - he caught wind of the promise I had made, the plan I had begun to form in my mind. He threw her in the dungeons, and he tortured her until she told him the truth, leaving her down there to rot until he brought me down there to see the consequences of what I had done.” His voice cracked, and he pressed trembling fingers over his lips, speaking aloud the thought that had haunted him ever since. “She never made it back to her daughter. I have no idea what became of the little girl, but I can’t imagine that she survived much longer without her mother.” 

A violent shiver made his body jolt, and he sniffled as he wiped his palms over his wet cheeks, spreading the tears around and irritating his skin further. “What your father did to her is not your fault,” Seonghwa murmured, and he may as well have pulled the knife free from his belt and lodged it deep in Hongjoong’s chest, for the words had the same effect. “You were a child, and you were trying to help her. You couldn’t have known-” 

“I’m the one who killed her,” Hongjoong interrupted, his voice flat, and the silence that followed the admission was nauseating. “I killed her with the same knife that you wear at your waist. It didn’t matter that I was a child - she was far from the first life I took. And I didn’t even hesitate anymore, not when I was so used to it.” 

He laughed bitterly, though it turned into a sob a moment later, and he dug his fingers into his scalp as he resolutely avoided the gaze of the man who had gone silent beside him. He should have stopped talking then - he knew he should have, but the words were tumbling free now and he couldn’t stop himself. For once, he wanted someone to see what he meant when he said he was a monster. His friends were always so quick to deny it, but they only knew the parts of him that they had seen. They had no idea how deep his cruelty ran, the blood in his veins black as night, his heart a fossilized relic as the conditioning of his mind took over everything else. 

“I’ve killed more innocents than I even remember. Blood has stained my hands since I was five fucking years old - tell me, Seonghwa, how does one redeem themselves after a life like mine? Perhaps the two of us are similar, but we are also fundamentally different in every way that matters. Life threw you out on the streets alone, and you chose to heal those who were weaker than you. You used your own limited supplies to treat innocent souls - one of them being a little girl who you raised as your own for as long as you were able. 

“Life abandoned me in a naval facility with food, shelter, and everything I needed to survive, and yet I still chose to become a blade, to kill those who never deserved it. A little girl lost her mother because of me. Because I killed her.” By the time he finished speaking, Hongjoong was gasping for air, drowning in his own guilt all over again as he bared his soul to Seonghwa, the man he was in love with. It was only fair for him to hear the truth, and Hongjoong hung his head in shame, crying openly as he covered his face with his hands. 

Several seconds passed before Seonghwa said anything, and when he did speak it was clear that he took care in the words he chose, not wanting to be misunderstood. “Hongjoong,” he called softly, but Hongjoong refused to look up, terrified of what he would find if he did. A sigh reached his ears, but Seonghwa didn’t push any further, continuing to speak. “I am so sorry that you have been holding that weight for your entire life. I wish I could have relieved you of it sooner, but I want to thank you for trusting me enough to tell me all of that.” 

He paused, swallowing audibly. “I need you to understand something, okay? You never had a choice - not once, not while you lived in that base. Your father abused you for your entire childhood, and even when he made you think that you were choosing to kill those people, the choice was never truly yours. Tell me, what would he have done if you refused?” 

Hongjoong could hardly think through the sobs that tore violently from his chest, and his lips quivered as he tried to speak, the words wavering and childlike. “He hurt m-me,” he admitted, his hands unconsciously touching the worst of his scars, the circular bullet holes on his upper arms and the thick gashes along his abdomen, all strategically placed to cause maximum pain without allowing him the bliss of death. “He hurt me so many times. I tried to - to just take it, for as long as I could, but I was just a k-kid. I never wanted to hurt anyone… I swear, I didn’t want to. Please believe me - I just didn’t want him to hurt me anymore.” 

“I know, baby. I know,” Seonghwa comforted, though his own voice was shaky, betraying his emotions as Hongjoong lost himself to the terrified child inside. “It was never your fault - you never deserved that. I believe you. I will always believe you.” And something about those words made Hongjoong’s tears fall harder, his heart desperate for the comfort he had desired from the day he was born, the love he had never received. All he had ever wanted was to be loved, but he had always thought that something was wrong with him, that he had been born undeserving. It had taken him this long to understand that none of that was true - he had simply been raised in the absence of care, by a father who had hated him from his very first breath. 

Two halves of a conflicting whole had been at war within him forever, and only now did he understand that he couldn’t be both at the same time. He couldn’t be an irredeemable killer while also being horrified by all of the blood that slicked his hands and caked under his nails. Either he was a monster, or he was just a scared little boy who had been shoved into a dark corner in the back of his own mind. A boy who had spent so much time in the shadow of the monster that he had assumed the claws were his own. 

When he slumped to the side Seonghwa was there to catch him, and strong arms wrapped tight around his middle, holding him close and allowing him to cry for the child within, the one who just wanted to be loved. “You’re okay,” Seonghwa murmured again and again, his hands rubbing against the uneven plane of Hongjoong’s scarred back. 

They remained like that for what felt like an eternity, time stopping as Hongjoong clung to the one person who knew the depths of his pain and still wanted to hold him, calling him sweet names and whispering words of comfort until he finally began to calm down. Exhaustion weighed heavy on his limbs, and when he pulled out of Seonghwa’s embrace his skin wept at the loss of warmth, curling in on himself again and resting his head on his knees. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, voice hoarse from all of the crying. “I think… I think that I can face him more easily, now that someone I love knows the whole truth and still loves me.” And he didn’t necessarily mean the words in a romantic sense - not this time. This kind of love ran far deeper than that. 

“You are incredibly brave, Hongjoong. Always remember that, even when you’re staring down the barrel of a gun, or the tip of a blade. No one can take that away from you,” Seonghwa replied, and his tone was softer than ever, steeped in comfort. “You know, there’s something I never told you - remember when we were in the capital, and I gave my coins to that homeless woman?” 

Hongjoong hadn’t been there to see it, but he remembered it just the same, and gave a soft nod in response. “She told me she had a daughter stuck in the orphanage, and that those coins would help her to get her child back. So maybe… somehow, I would like to think that perhaps the woman you tried to save had been present in that same woman I saw that day. Maybe she did get to save her child after all.” 

Lips trembling, Hongjoong nodded again, his nose cold due to the wind. “I would like to think that too,” he whispered, closing his eyes and feeling Seonghwa’s hand against his back, solid and warm. 

Silence lingered after that, and Hongjoong felt far calmer than he had before, despite the naval ship that he knew was heading their way. He knew what he would need to do when the time came, but spending time out here with Seonghwa had made him realize that perhaps he didn’t need to lose all hope. 

Perhaps there was still a way to experience more nights like this, his fingers brushing against the back of Seonghwa’s hand as they sat together, an entire world stretching out before them. Their story couldn’t end like this, not when so much of it remained unwritten. Even if Hongjoong had to tear the quill pen and ink away from fate itself - surely the heavens wouldn’t enjoy that, but he figured he had fallen from their graces long ago anyway. Not that it mattered, for divinity paled in comparison to a single crooked grin from the man at his side.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong murmured, breaking the silence between the two of them as his companion turned to face him, his bangs hanging forward into his lashes. The surrounding night cloaked his eyes in shadow, so dark they were almost black, and Hongjoong could see the outline of his own silhouette surrounded by moonlight reflecting back at him. As he stared, it occurred to him that perhaps the two of them had been reflections of one another all along - Hongjoong, the night sky drowning in darkness, and Seonghwa, the web of stars too tangled to do anything but burn from the inside out, so much light with nowhere to go. 

The night sky had found its stars at last, drawing what had once been a knotted mess into idyllic constellations, the two of them perfectly slotting together under the same sky. “Hm?” Seonghwa hummed, and Hongjoong felt his lips curve into an easy smile. He had nearly forgotten what he had intended to say, so lost in the astral grace of the man beside him. 

“I imagine that knowing you is the closest I’ll ever be to heaven.” 

And Seonghwa laughed softly, lacing their fingers together and staring up at the stars, though Hongjoong had meant every word. 

~

Hongjoong stayed out on the deck until the sun rose, eventually sending Seonghwa back inside to get some rest and keeping watch on his own. When he first spotted the vague shadow on the horizon that began to solidify into a massive military ship, he felt nothing, his limbs numb and his mind foggy as he stumbled to his feet, determined to fulfill one last task before he alerted the crew and began to prepare. His father’s arrival was imminent, but after his conversation with Seonghwa he had spent the early hours of the morning piecing together one final part of his plan, his hope rekindled by the love he had been shown. 

Though he still intended to sacrifice himself for his crew, perhaps that didn’t have to mean a permanent end - maybe, if all went right and the universe was on his side for once, he would still be able to find a way back to them. And even if the universe wasn’t on his side, he would still have to try. 

Slipping into his own quarters, Hongjoong shut the door behind himself and rushed over to his desk, pushing aside various pieces of parchment until he found the star map he was looking for. He had been using this map since he was a boy, and it had been folded so many times that the canvas had begun to rip at the edges, the lines of ink worn at the creases. Now he unfolded it, spreading the map open on his desk as he grabbed one of his quill pens, dipping it in ink and willing his shaking fingers to keep steady as he poised his hand to write. 

This map was the one he always carried around, the one he had used to learn the constellations in the skies whenever he hadn’t been able to observe them through his own window. His plan involved several moving parts, but he had to hope that it would work - that Seonghwa would understand him when he said his final words later that day. That he would come find this map, as well as the message written inside. 

Seonghwa, he addressed the letter after a moment's hesitation, though he knew that Seonghwa would be the only one to come and find this map. If you’ve found this, it means what I dreaded came true. Please do not lose yourself in your grief, for this is not the end. Hongjoong inhaled a shuddering breath, struggling to believe the words himself, but determined not to let his fear show in this letter. He needed to remain steadfast so that Seonghwa would be able to draw comfort from his message, even when he wasn’t here to provide it physically. 

I planned to give myself up ever since we encountered the first ship, and I had time to figure out a solution. This was not actually true, for Hongjoong had been planning this since the capital, but he didn’t want to further devastate Seonghwa with the extent of the truth - it would accomplish nothing. Please do not hate me for this, for I know I promised you long ago to not make plans on my own without consulting the crew, but I knew none of you would ever approve, and I needed to save you. 

Already Hongjoong’s vision began to blur with tears, and he desperately tried to blink them away, not wanting them to fall and smudge the ink. He didn’t want Seonghwa to know that he had been crying while he wrote this - he didn’t want to cause unnecessary pain to the man he loved. Considering that you are reading this, I must have been able to share my last message. He hesitated while writing this part, unsure of what his last message would exactly be - something related to the stars, so that Seonghwa would come find this map intending to use it. 

Pausing in his writing for a moment, Hongjoong laid his hand flat over the surface of the parchment, closing his eyes and feeling a tear roll down the slope of his cheek. He hoped that the love in his touch would transfer into this map, and that Seonghwa would be able to feel it, even once he was gone. He hoped that Seonghwa would trace his fingers over his scrawled writing, and that it would reignite his hope. 

After all, Seonghwa had been the one keeping Hongjoong’s flame of hope alive for weeks - it was his turn to return the favor. 

I intended for you to find this on my desk, to bring it out to the stars and discover my words. If that is the case, I am deeply sorry for the anguish I must have caused you and the others. However, do not lose hope - you will see me again. Hongjoong’s lips curved into a watery, bittersweet smile at that, even as his heart clenched in pain at the knowledge of what he would need to endure before that last point came true. 

My father will take me back to the naval base, for I know he will want to lock me back in the same room as when I was a child, to reduce me back to nothing more than a victim. What he never knew is that there’s a secret passage from the base leading down into the sewer system until it empties into the ocean. It is located behind the base, out of sight from the navy fleet. Hongjoong didn’t allow himself to consider all of the ways in which this plan could go wrong - the passage could be blocked after all these years, or his father could catch wind of his intentions before he had the chance to escape, but he had to try. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t try, for the sake of the people he loved. 

As he wrote, he swore he could still feel the draft in that passage, the spray of rushing water as he sat at the edge of the tunnel, wishing he could jump into the tide but never having the courage. When I was young, I often picked the lock to my room and went down there to see the night sky through more than a small window. My father never knew, and I could never have left if I wanted to. There is no possibility to escape that way, unless a ship is waiting - perhaps you understand my plan. The window in my room faces out over that area, and I will be able to see your sails. 

And Hongjoong knew that as soon as Seonghwa found this letter, they would come. He didn’t know how long he would need to endure his father’s wrath until then, but he already felt stronger with the knowledge of this plan, because his father would never see it coming. To him, Hongjoong had always been a weak boy unable to defend himself, and he would try his damndest to replicate that facade if it meant he would be underestimated. His father would never anticipate his crew coming to rescue him, because he didn’t know of the miracles love was capable of - he couldn’t fathom the strength of Hongjoong’s bond with his crew, and that would be his downfall. 

Hongjoong refused to escape silently this time - he would bring his father down if it was the last thing he ever did. I have years worth of information about my father that would be more than enough to get him removed from his position and locked away. I was never bold enough to use it against him, and he knew that, but to get back to my family I will do anything I need to. After you read this, come find me - I will be waiting for you. 

With a fresh falling of tears, he signed the letter, lips quivering as he pressed them closed to keep any sounds at bay. Love, Hongjoong. He stared down at his signature for a few moments before forcing himself to fold up the map and leave it in the center of his desk, unwilling to waste any more time. His father was a horizon’s distance away and gaining, and they needed to be out on the deck waiting for him when he arrived. 

Bracing his hands against the desk to push his chair out and get back to his feet, Hongjoong stopped when a familiar note caught his eye, a small slip of paper that he had pinned to the wall months ago. His heart clenched as his eyes traced over Wooyoung’s childlike scrawl, his fingers trembling as he carefully removed the pin and held the precious note in his hands. 

‘DINNER FOR HONGJOONG - DO NOT EAT!!!” read the warning Wooyoung had written so long ago, and Hongjoong pressed his lips together as a sob threatened to escape. Something about this seemingly mundane piece of paper made him want to crumble to the floor and wail into his hands, hiding from his father until the soldiers found him in this room and dragged him away. ‘Hongjoong, if you’re reading this make sure you eat everything, because if you don’t I will show up to your room tomorrow morning with a double portion of breakfast. Love, Wooyoung’

A tear splashed free and splattered over the writing, the ink beginning to run instantly, and panic seized Hongjoong’s mind as he set the note down and pressed his sleeve over the wet part. Ink stained through the fabric, but that was the last thing on his mind as he tried to preserve the words Wooyoung had written all that time ago. 

The boy probably didn’t even remember writing it, but Hongjoong had read those few sentences again and again, drawing reassurance from the physical proof that he was still loved. And now, once the paper had dried, he folded it up real small and shoved it deep into the pocket of his pants, taking it with him as he gave himself away to the man he feared most. He hoped that even while deep in the grip of the mental and physical agony inflicted by his father, he would still be able to read Wooyoung’s note and remember that they loved him enough to come to his rescue. 

~

Nightfall had just begun to touch the skies when the navy ship came within range, the seas dark and unruly and the air housing a relentless chill. They had been preparing the ship all day, and now all eight of them filled the crew quarters, strapping on sets of worn leather armor and pulling on sturdy boots. 

Hongjoong had been pacing back and forth by the door ever since he had entered the room, already donned in his own set of armor, raw nerves exposed all over his skin as he scratched at his arms and tugged strands of hair free from his scalp. He felt adrift within his own panic, and he hardly registered the concerned eyes of his crew, too far gone inside of his own mind. “They aren’t going to sink us with their cannons - I know he’ll want to see me up close first,” he reasoned, though the words provided little reassurance. 

In a short time, Hongjoong would be standing by the rails as the man who appeared in the shadowed corners of his room in the middle of the night approached, twisted versions of Hongjoong’s own features staring back at him. Though he wanted to be strong, to stand against his father in defiance, he couldn’t see how that would be possible when he already felt so small. The very prospect of facing his past all over again rendered him nothing more than a shaking ball of fright, nothing like the captain he was supposed to be. 

For all he knew, his father would steal him away and still kill all of his friends, or decline his offer altogether and kill him along with them, and the uncertainty was gnawing through his bones. The feeling of having his fate held in the hands of another was not unfamiliar to Hongjoong, for he had never possessed control of his own life until his escape, but this was more than just his own fate now. He loved the seven members of his crew more intensely than he’d ever thought his heart was capable of, and he needed to protect them all, even when the reality of the situation was bleak. Even when their fate was held in the hands of the abusive monster he called a father.

Desperate for an escape from his spiraling thoughts, Hongjoong’s gaze fell upon Seonghwa, and he watched as the man fussed over the straps of San’s armor for no real reason at all. The armor had been perfectly secure to begin with, but Seonghwa still loosened and tightened the straps all over again, his lip caught between his teeth and his eyes already shining. His fingers moved frantically, even though his efforts meant nothing against the highly equipped navy ship sailing their way, and they all knew it. Hongjoong could tell that he knew it, but he still did what little he could to keep the people he loved safe, a small bandage placed over a gaping wound. 

Seonghwa moved over to Wooyoung next, and Hongjoong watched even as he paced, muttering under his breath in order to drown out his thoughts. He checked over the armor before Wooyoung was grabbing for his hands, and the raw fear on the boy’s face made Hongjoong want to vomit. 

He watched as Seonghwa wrapped him in a tight hug, their desperation palpable as they clung to one another, terrified in the face of the horrors this night would hold. After all, they didn’t know of Hongjoong’s plan - to them, this was probably the last time they would hold each other, and the thought sent an arrow through Hongjoong’s chest, the jagged point ripping deep into his flesh. They were likely wondering if they would all be shot down at once, or if they would go down fighting, one by one. And if that were the case, who would be the last one left standing, surrounded by the dead bodies of the ones they loved enough to fight a losing battle alongside? 

They held each other for several minutes, neither one of them willing to loosen their grip, and Hongjoong wished so badly that this all could have been different. He hated that his father was the evil behind all of this, that he had been too weak to kill the man in all of the years he had spent at the base, because then none of this would be happening. Everything stemmed back to his cowardice, and he wanted to rip his skin to shreds, to jab his nails into his own flesh and feel every ounce of hurt that he deserved. 

They had no idea what to anticipate, which only added to the tense atmosphere in the room. The ship that was approaching was bigger than any of the pirate ships the rest of the crew had encountered - Hongjoong wasn’t sure exactly how many soldiers were waiting to exterminate them like mere animals, but he knew the eight of them stood no chance. Beyond that, the navy had access to top of the line weapons - all they had was the mismatched blades and pistols in the weaponry, no match against heavy artillery. 

Hongjoong had never been dealt a fair hand in life, and he had been angry at the world for its treatment for as long as he could remember, but this time the anger burned bright enough to char the fabric of fate, his fingers ripping through and grabbing for the pen. He wanted to scream, wanted to rip their rivals apart to protect his family, wanted to shield Seonghwa and the others from the violence they would face. Looking after them had become Hongjoong’s purpose, and now he was going to be leading them out to the slaughter, all under the guise of resignation until he gave himself away. 

Already he dreaded how they would react, the horrified expressions and outstretched hands and eyes lined with tears, but he needed to protect them. Protecting his crew had always been his top priority, and he would tear off his own limbs for them without a second thought, would endure whatever pain necessary. Pain was nothing new, and though the thought of willingly placing himself back under his father’s thumb formed a lump of dread in his throat, he had endured it before. He could endure it again, for them. 

“We need to get out to the deck,” he announced eventually, trying to keep his voice strong despite his fear as he watched Wooyoung and Seonghwa separate, his heart breaking. “They have the upper hand in every way - we can at least eliminate the element of surprise by waiting for them out there.”

All of his crew stirred at the order, strapped into their armor and brandishing their weapons of choice, a ragtag group of misfit pirates that didn’t stand a chance. And even then, Hongjoong could see the trust in their expressions when they looked at him, hidden beneath the panic, the fear. They still trusted him despite everything, and it took every shred of resolve he still possessed to not shatter, forcing himself to stand tall. 

He was determined to save them, even at the cost of himself. Even if he lost everything he had worked so hard to gain, becoming the monster his father had forced him to be all over again, it would be worth it for the sake of the ones he loved. Hongjoong would burn in hell for the rest of eternity if it meant they would still be able to extend their wings and fly, though he hoped they would still think of him long after the memories had faded, whenever the sea twinkled beneath them or the new moon hung dark in the sky. 

Even Wooyoung had a pistol holstered against his hip today, and that was perhaps the worst sight of all, the soft skin of his fingers twitching down to touch the handle nervously every few seconds. Hongjoong had always done everything in his power to keep Wooyoung away from this kind of violence, but there would be no point in doing that now - not when the pain would find him regardless. 

Despite the boy’s fear, Hongjoong could tell that he wanted to stand there with them, a mask of bravery forced over his features even as they wavered and exposed the fear hiding underneath. An innocent forced to don armor several sizes too big - a child forced to grow up too fast. 

When Hongjoong stepped out of the crew quarters and began to head for the cabin door, the rest of his crew funneled out of the room as well, following at his heels and filling the hallway with tension thick enough to be split by a knife. His breaths escaped in shallow pants, and he didn’t realize that Seonghwa had moved forward to walk beside him until a familiar hand slid into his own, both of their palms damp with fear. A soft tug pulled on Hongjoong’s hand, and he shifted over so that the two of them were hardly separated by any distance at all, the straps of their armor brushing together with each step. 

“We’re all with you, Hongjoong. I will not hesitate to kill him if he tries to do anything to you,” Seonghwa murmured, though his voice was serious, barely restrained rage choking his words. All Hongjoong could do was shake his head, the guilt consuming every part of him, for none of it really mattered. He was simply playing a part until he revealed what his true intentions had been all along, and he bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood in order to keep the admission inside, wishing he could just blurt out the truth and finally drop this weight that had been splintering his bones for weeks. 

“I know, Seonghwa. I just - I want so badly for this to go well for us, but I know my father. He is ruthless, and he wants to see me hurt. I don’t know how we’re going to make it out of this,” he whispered back, unable to ignite his anger when each step he took brought him closer to the man who had stolen every good thing away from him. For years his anger had threatened to consume him entirely, but now he could find no trace of it, only cobwebs remaining in the darkness of his mind.

He knew that Seonghwa must have been able to sense his defeat, but the man could say nothing that would fix this - not when he would be left just as defeated once this night was over. “I will do anything to keep them safe, and I know you feel the same. I need to protect them - I promise you, I will do everything I can,” Seonghwa vowed, and his words were bittersweet, reminiscent of their conversation the night before. Rather than promising that everything would be okay, he had simply promised that he would try his hardest, and for some reason that only served to break Hongjoong’s heart further. 

Shaking his head, Hongjoong’s lips trembled into a small smile, nothing more than a slight curve of the mouth that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know you will, Seonghwa. But I am just as worried for you as I am for them. Don’t do anything to endanger yourself, please - I can’t lose you either,” he answered, tone solemn.

Seonghwa merely ducked his head in response, and then Hongjoong was pushing the door open, stepping out onto the deck. Instantly, the wind cut through his clothing and chilled his skin, though he welcomed the numbness as he reluctantly pulled his hand free of Seonghwa’s grasp and stepped closer to the rails. He stood in front of the rest of his crew, his hair swept away from his face as the chill whipped past his cheeks, his face frozen in dread as the hulking ship drew near. 

“As I suspected, they’re going to pull up beside us, just as the other ship did. There is not much we can do until they get here - our cannons are practically useless against a ship of that size,” he informed, speaking rapidly through numb lips, voice loud enough to be heard by all seven members of his crew. He had spent a lifetime on navy ships, but he hadn’t been this close to one in years, and he squinted against the glare of the setting sun as it reflected off of the metal hull, the ship pulling close enough for him to finally see the silhouette standing on its deck. 

His entire body tensed in foreboding, and he found that he was no longer alone by the rails as Seonghwa stepped forward to stand beside him, his frame tight with barely restrained anger. “Seonghwa…” he began to protest, his heart pounding against his ribs as he desired to push the man he loved away, to hide him from the wicked eyes of his father. Someone so evil should never be permitted to gaze upon the warmest soul he had ever known, and he turned his head frantically to look at Seonghwa when a soft hand touched the small of his back, the words dying on his lips as soon as their eyes met. 

Even like this, with eyes bloodshot from crying and tension gathered along his jaw, Hongjoong couldn’t help but think the man looked radiant. The last of the sun’s rays caressed his skin and turned it to liquid gold, more valuable than any currency, and Hongjoong felt that familiar tug, right where his heart was. 

In all the limited love he had felt in his miserable life, nothing had ever compared to this feeling, and Hongjoong wished to say so many things in those final moments of peace. Dusk had begun to settle over the sky, that strange handful of minutes where the sun still peeked over the horizon even as the first stars emerged, twinkling just above Seonghwa’s head and catching Hongjoong’s eye for a fleeting moment. 

If only he could reach up and grab them with his bare hands, withstanding their heat as he forced the stars to align for the two of them and the love they had been so close to having. But even if he had possessed enough divinity to do such a thing, he imagined that by the time he had finished, their light would have been extinguished anyway. 

The two of them had never stood a chance, and he stared back at Seonghwa with eyes stinging, heart heavy with the weight of the love he had never been able to share. 

Despite that, Seonghwa still stood firm by his side, his eyes burning with the anger that had slipped through Hongjoong’s fingers like the spilled blood of his youth. Even as they stood in the face of certain death, it was still the two of them against the world, and he drew strength from that fact as he turned back towards the navy ship just as his father fully came into view, 

After years apart, his mind had warped his father into a twisted monster, complete with claws that dripped rivulets of blood and fangs capable of tearing through flesh with ease, giant and hulking and evil. And yet, as he stood on the deck of his navy ship now, all Hongjoong could think was that all along, he had only ever been a man. A cruel, deplorable man, capable of violence more brutal than any monster, his eyes burning with hatred the moment he laid eyes on his only son. 

No one else occupied the deck aside from him, a large rifle strapped to his back, and their resemblance remained strong as ever as Hongjoong stared at cruel reflections of his own sharp eyes and nose. Even their statures would have been similar if it weren’t for all of the broken bones that had affected Hongjoong’s development, his father far broader and better postured. 

He looked the same aside from a few added years’ worth of lines webbing along his face, but the loathing in his eyes hadn’t aged a day. Hongjoong felt like he was five years old again under that glare, and his entire body tensed against his will, panic sending shivers over his skin as he barely restrained himself from flinching back. He couldn’t let his father know that he still held such power, but he had a sinking feeling that it was obvious, his eyes blown wide in fear. 

A cruel smile stretched over his father’s face, and Hongjoong’s stomach rolled violently, bile spilling into his mouth as he forced himself to swallow it down. “Would you look at that. It was true - you’re alive, and you’ve stooped as low as possible, though that should have been expected from you. Going from my successor in the navy to a shameful pirate captain. Have you no dignity?” His voice hadn’t changed at all either, and every word pierced through Hongjoong’s armor with more ease than any blade, cutting him deeper than anyone else on this wretched planet had ever been able to. 

Inhaling a shuddering breath, Hongjoong struggled to keep his voice from trembling as he responded, drawing upon the warmth of Seonghwa at his side as he faced the man who had wounded him to his very soul. The scared little boy inside of him cowered in fear, and he cradled that part of himself protectively as he locked it away once more, forcing himself to be brave even as his instincts screamed for him to cower. Defiance only ever resulted in more pain, but he had grown in his time away from his father, and he needed the man to see that. He needed to show him that despite all of the scars that mapped over his skin, he had never been broken beyond the point of repair. 

All he had ever needed was the right set of hands, ones that chose to heal instead of hurt. 

“You are one to lecture me on dignity - is it dignified to beat your own child? I have grown to become more of a man than you ever were.” His voice remained steady, and he clenched his hands into fists to hide how they trembled, his expression locking into one of cold detachment. 

He caught a glimmer of surprise in his father’s face before he narrowed his eyes, and a brief swell of pride broke through his fear, finding it easier to breathe now as he allowed a bitter chuckle to pass over his lips. “It won’t be so easy to push me around anymore,” he added, crossing his arms as if unimpressed. “You hold no power over me out here.”

The open sea was Hongjoong’s domain, and not even his father could take that away from him. He registered how stiff he stood in his navy uniform, his jaw tense and his eyes alight with hatred, and he realized that his father had likely never known the touch of love in his miserable life. For the first time, he regarded his father as nothing more than a person with doubts of his own, and he realized that perhaps the upper hand wasn’t as far out of reach as he had anticipated. 

“You claim I hold no power, but my soldiers will sink your ship at the slightest command. However, I’d rather have a bit of fun with you before we take those measures, though do not think they won’t be taken. None of you are making it out of here alive,” his father sneered, pulling the gun from his back for good measure. He held it in front of his chest, and the circular bullet scars that decorated Hongjoong’s skin flared in the remembrance of pain. 

Seonghwa’s presence shifted back a moment later, and panic gripped Hongjoong’s chest until he realized that Wooyoung had pressed himself into the doctor’s side, his eyes wide and shining with fear at the threat of death. Hongjoong’s protectiveness surged, and he glared back at his father, refusing to relent as he watched the man shift his gaze to land upon the two of them. 

Harsh laughter grated across the divide between their ships, and Hongjoong swore his entire body caught fire, his bones providing kindling for a flame that only burned stronger when his father spoke again. “Oh, does that upset you? It was your mistake, joining the crew of my feeble disgrace of a son. You should have known he would never be able to protect you.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to shoot back an insult of his own, but another voice beat him to it, still eloquent even when consumed by rage. “Watch your mouth, asshole. Do not even look at him. And as for your son, you’d be smart to avoid speaking about him that way. I understand you intend to kill us, but death does not scare me. I will wreak all the havoc in the world before I let someone as cowardly and spineless as you end my life.” Seonghwa. 

His father made a tutting sound, clearly displeased with Seonghwa’s lack of civility, though Hongjoong only fell deeper in love. “It appears you found yourself a guard dog who is just as shameful as you are. He’s awfully feisty - could stand to learn a thing or two, though I suppose he took after his owner,” he jeered, and Hongjoong’s posture shifted in anger, losing his grip on his composure when Seonghwa’s honor was on the line. 

“I do not own anyone. You would not understand it, but my crew wants to be here with me. I used to be so angry at you, so incredibly rageful, but he taught me to let go. Standing here now, looking at how bitter and twisted you are, I feel nothing but sorry for you,” Hongjoong replied, his words dripping with ice cold honesty. Only after coming to terms with his memories did he finally understand the kind of irreparable internal darkness it took to torture a child for years, and as he stood here in the light of his crew, he pitied his father for his inability to ever truly experience what it meant to live. 

Everything around them seemed to freeze, and Hongjoong watched his father’s jaw twitch, a forceful swallow passing down the channel of his throat. He had landed a blow with that comment - the first one that had ever reached past his father’s seemingly unbreakable exterior, and he stood a little taller then, holding just a shred of power in his hands at last. 

Hongjoong knew how this would end - he knew this feeling of victory would never last, and that he would be willingly cowering at his father’s feet within the hour, but he found that right now, he didn’t care. Right now, he was winning, and that served as proof that he could win again when the time came. 

“You’ve gotten real cocky out here, haven't you? You gained a crew of people as weak as you, made you think highly of yourself. The things you claim he has taught you are nothing in comparison to what I could’ve given you, if you hadn’t taken the coward’s way out of things,” his father retaliated, biting out the words. 

Hongjoong’s vision spun with the force of his rage as the monster before him compared his grotesque claws to the breathtaking wings of the angel standing right behind, and he bared his teeth like a rabid animal, his voice escaping in a vicious growl. “Don’t even dare to compare yourself to Seonghwa. He is a thousand times the man you will ever be, and it is because of him that I can stand up to you now. You are a coward, abusing a mere child to boost your own ego.” 

His chest heaved with the force of his blazing rage, and he didn’t even realize his mistake until he caught the sadistic gleam in his father’s eyes as they dragged slowly over Seonghwa’s body. “Seonghwa. I will take extra care in dealing with him, for it appears all he has taught you is how to be a defiant wretch.” Hongjoong shuddered violently, his entire body trembling with wrath unlike any he had felt before even as his heart ceased to beat for a long moment, paralyzed by fear. 

He had said Seonghwa’s name - the same name that Seonghwa had kept a secret for so long, only sharing with the others once he felt that he could trust them, and Hongjoong had just handed it on a silver platter to a man who would surely take advantage of what he had just learned. Disgust tore his gut to shreds, and nausea accumulated at the base of his throat, blocking his airway as he turned his head to glance over his shoulder. 

Seonghwa stared back at him, clearly unsettled, and his need to protect blotted out everything else. “You will not lay a single finger on him without going through me first,” he snarled, fists clenched at his sides as he restrained himself from leaping over the rails and tearing his father’s face off. 

Raising his hands in mock surrender, his father smirked. “Oh, I see. You want him for yourself, don’t you? Too bad you’ll never get that chance after today, my dear son,” he mocked, and Hongjoong froze, unable to control his face as his expression slackened. His father knew what he had done, a twisted smile warping his lips, for he had never once referred to Hongjoong as his son before today. 

Ears ringing, Hongjoong nearly lost the ability to stand, his legs going weak at the knees as he stared at his father in shock. In all those years, he had tried so hard to be obedient, to do as his father asked so he wouldn’t be hurt, but he had never once been good enough to make up for his existence. Never once had his father regarded him with anything but hatred, and as a little boy curled up around broken ribs and trying to read about the legends in the stars through eyes swollen shut, all he had ever wanted was to be loved. He had accepted beating after beating with no protest, in hopes that his father would one day find him worthy enough to be his son. 

And now he used the word so carelessly, stabbing Hongjoong in the chest and twisting the knife with cruelty so casual that it left him stunned. 

Dimly, he heard Seonghwa clear his throat, the familiar sound of his voice muted against the pounding in his ears. “It is clear you mean to kill us. We have no illusions - we know that will be the outcome of today. However, if I will die by your hand today, I have some things to say to you first. You will listen, for I know your self absorbed ego revels at being in the mouth of others,” he said coldly, and upon no protest from Hongjoong’s father, he continued. 

“I’ll make it simple, for I do not think your pathetic mind is capable of higher thinking. You are a monster, in every sense of the word. You thrive on fear of those more vulnerable than you, and it is clear from the way you speak that you intended to treat us in that same way.” Hongjoong began to hear his words more clearly now, regaining feeling in his face and clamping his jaw closed as he listened.

“Unfortunately for you, I do not submit easily to those weaker than I am. You are perhaps the weakest, most deplorable person I have ever been faced with, and when you do kill me I will die knowing that I still hold the upper hand, for you will never live a life like mine. You made a mistake picking on me, for you will learn I am less merciful in my rage than your son is. Hongjoong feels sorry for you, but to me, you are not deserving of my sorrow. I have mourned many people in my life, and it would be a disgrace to them if I felt any of those emotions in regard to you.

“It rather brings me joy, to face a foe as pathetic as you. I would just like for you to understand something - in my years of life, I have come to learn that living is meaningless if you don’t have people to share your highs and lows, to understand how you feel with but a glance.” He paused momentarily, and Hongjoong felt the ghost of a smile touch his lips, for Seonghwa never ceased to surprise him even now. “There is not a single person on this earth who loves you. Frankly, it’s embarrassing for you. So just know that when you kill me, when you kill all of us, that we will see you as beneath us until our last breath.” 

Hongjoong watched as his father was rendered momentarily speechless, and the force of his own pride consumed him as he stood a little bit taller. Before the man could even try to respond, another voice was assisting in his humiliation - Yeosang, the navigator’s voice free of all fear. “Seonghwa is right - you think you are superior, but you should really be humiliated. Abusing your own child is not something to be proud of, despite your twisted ideals. It brings me joy to know that on the day you die, you will be alone. People will be happy - no one will ever mourn you.”

His crew had come to his defense exactly when he had needed it, and Hongjoong’s smile grew, much to the irritation of his father. They hadn’t finished yet, either, his first mate protecting him just as he had always promised. “Hongjoong is the best man I have ever known, and it was no thanks to you. He raised himself, and despite your actions he showed us compassion when no one else did. Your cold, dead heart did not succeed in breaking your son, despite all of your efforts. You could not even succeed in that - is there anything you can do?”

They had seen right through the man standing on the opposite deck, and Hongjoong reveled in the knowledge that his father had never been as untouchable as he made himself seem. Their words had thrown him off, had ruined any satisfaction he had been counting on, and Hongjoong flashed his teeth as he finally spoke. “You heard my crew - you are deplorable. It amuses me to know how much I still weigh on your mind after all these years, how much you still rely on putting me down to bring yourself up. It won’t work anymore - you can kill me, but it won’t bring you the satisfaction that you need,” he said, nothing but honest. 

Hongjoong stood taller than before, his face set in determination and his eyes blazing, for he knew that his crew stood just as firm behind him. As long as they were with him, he could face this without drowning in his own fear, and he prepared himself for the inevitable end that he knew would come next as he watched his father’s eyes flash, his lips set in a firm line. 

First Seonghwa stepped up beside him, followed by the rest, until all eight of them stood shoulder to shoulder as they faced his father, ready for whatever would come next. They were defiant, and they were brave - it was clear in their expressions, the way they carried themselves.

They were most certainly outmatched, but it wouldn’t come to a battle of any kind. Hongjoong was fully resigned to that now, and he didn’t allow his fear to return as he stood there with a clear challenge written into the lines of his face. 

Hongjoong’s father must have felt the finality of the situation, for he swept his eyes over the eight of them one last time, expression unreadable. “Come out!” He yelled, turning to face the large cabin of his gigantic ship. Hongjoong followed the gaze, refusing to falter at what he saw. Soldiers started to pour out from the cabin door, a never ending wave of large military guns and glinting black armor.

There had to be upwards of thirty soldiers flooding the deck, even more than Hongjoong had anticipated. None of his crew budged at the sight of them, though he could feel the palpable fear in the air, and his chest ached as he wished to soothe them. As he pulled his sword free from his hip, he knew he had to make this believable - that was the only way to render them shocked enough to let him slip through their fingers. 

The soldiers positioned themselves in formation around Hongjoong’s father, and at a barked order from the man they were raising their guns into firing position, the harsh sound of weapons shifting reaching Hongjoong’s ears. He swallowed forcefully, jaw twitching minutely as he stared down the barrel of a sea of guns, willing himself to not feel afraid. 

This was set to be no more than an execution - and they had lined up for the slaughter. Hongjoong could see the twisted glee on his father’s face as his eyes burned holes into the skin of his son,and the tension that gripped at his friends’ bodies as they anticipated the loud blare of the guns before bullets ripped through their flesh. They were so brave - he had always known that, but as he stood here he realized that they were truly willing to die for him, and the thought ripped his heart clean out of his chest. 

He cast his eyes to the side just enough to meet Seonghwa’s gaze, and the reality of what he was about to do hit him hard enough to punch the breath from his lungs. This was the final time they would meet eyes while Seonghwa still lived in ignorance, and Hongjoong already mourned that fire in his eyes, for he knew that he would be the one to extinguish it.

Tears burned at his eyes, and pain squeezed at his chest so tightly that he struggled for air, his lips trembling with the unspoken admission clinging to his lips. I love you. Three words, and yet they still weren’t enough to describe the enormity of his feelings for the man at his side. They had been so close to being in love, their fingertips just a hair’s breadth away from touching, and Hongjoong had never felt grief like this in his life. 

He had touched heaven just a moment ago, but now the demons were pulling him back down to hell, clawing at his skin and corrupting his mind with their darkness, and Hongjoong would rather let go of his divine tether than drag Seonghwa down with him. Though Hongjoong had never been worthy of wings, he had still learned how it felt to fly, and he hoped that his friends would soar even higher without his added weight. 

Facing forward once more, his eyes fluttered closed, a sudden calm washing over him like an easy morning tide as his father began to yell the order to fire. 

“Stop!” He commanded, his voice loud and scraping his throat raw as he stepped forward, raising his hands high in the air. For once, he didn’t tremble, standing firm as he cut off his father’s order and stared him directly in the eye. Heart throbbing in his throat, he made his proposal, resigned to his fate. “I will surrender to you - I will go with you willingly, and you can do whatever you want with me as long as you let them go free.”

His words hung in the air for a split second, and he refused to look back as a trembling hand grasped for his sleeve, trying to pull him back into loving arms. No. If he indulged in Seonghwa’s affection, he would never be able to leave, and he swallowed thickly as he pulled away from the touch, his skin burning. He waited for his father’s answer, no defiance remaining in the set of his shoulders as he laid himself bare for the taking. 

A wicked smile flickered across the man’s face, burning a path up to his eyes, and Hongjoong knew then that he already succeeded. “And why should that matter to me? I could have my men seize you from your ship easily. I don’t need to accept whatever bargain you’re trying to strike,” he answered, but the cunning curiosity in his gaze was unavoidable, and Hongjoong felt sick to his stomach all over again as he shook his head.

“I am offering myself to you,” he clarified, his voice calm even as seas of anguish raged within. He didn’t want to go - he didn’t want to suffer all over again, but he had no other choice, for he would save his crew at the cost of himself every time. “I will do whatever you ask of me, I will let you do whatever you please. Taking me by force would not give you the same satisfaction - you have always despised my defiance, and I am now telling you that I will conform to your will, no matter what it shall be.”

A tear trickled down his cheek as he reached deep into his mind to pull out the scared little boy from his childhood, dragging him forcefully from his hiding place by the wrists until he existed in the forefront of Hongjoong’s mind. The same little boy who had tried his best to comply, who had felt more pain than most people felt in their entire lives. The inner child he had finally begun to heal with the help of the people he loved. 

His father’s head tilted in thought, and he looked at Hongjoong with undisguised want. “Very well,” he agreed, and Hongjoong nearly choked on his own bile, his entire world shattering with just two simple words. 

Hands frantically gripped at his arms, trying desperately to pull him back, and he felt like a brittle leaf caught in a windstorm, unable to control his own body as Seonghwa tugged him back. Sobs fell from the man’s lips as he clutched at Hongjoong’s clothes, his eyes wild as tears ran from his eyes like waterfalls, still beautiful even now. “Hong-Hongjoong, n-no - no, you can’t - c-can’t go back to him, p-please, I need - I need you here,” he choked out as he fisted Hongjoong’s shirt in his hands, and watching him crumble like this was so much worse than Hongjoong had imagined. 

He tried his best to smile, even though his heart had shattered like glass, shards piercing his flesh from the inside as he was filled with a vicious pain that no one else could see. In these final moments, he couldn’t let it show - if his crew knew he had been dragged away with fear in his eyes, that would only make this harder on them. So instead, he smiled even as his vision blurred, tenderly cupping Seonghwa’s cheek as if he would break at any moment, the most precious soul to ever grace this world. 

Hot tears rolled over his fingers, and Hongjoong wiped them away even as more immediately took their place, Seonghwa’s eyes glossy and frantic as nonsensical words garbled from his mouth. “You promised me that you would keep them safe - keep that promise, Seonghwa. I need to do this, and they will need you more than ever. Do not cry, for it is clouding your beautiful eyes,” he murmured, and Seonghwa’s hysterics only amplified, his face red and shining. 

“I need to keep you safe too,” he protested, his words hardly audible through the force of his sobs, and all Hongjoong could do was keep that bittersweet smile in place as he broke the heart of the man he would have spent his entire life loving. In that moment, all he wanted was to stay, to show Seonghwa natural pools and manatees and shooting stars, but he couldn’t. For once in his life, he actually wanted to live, but when had fate ever cared about his faithless heart? 

When he didn’t respond, Seonghwa slammed a hand against his chest, so much force behind the blow that Hongjoong winced even as he remained firmly in place. His love for Seonghwa had come as easy as breathing, and how was he supposed to fill his lungs now if they couldn’t be together? 

Seonghwa was trembling violently, his lips turning purple as he gasped for air, his skin pale and his eyes drowning in desperation. “You said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me,” he whispered, and Hongjoong brushed a thumb over his lips, wishing he could just take Seonghwa into his arms and never let him go. Even when the bullets came, he would shield Seonghwa from it all, allowing his own flesh to be torn apart while preventing a single scratch from touching the one he loved. He would still smile at Seonghwa then, with blood dripping from his mouth and the life leaving his eyes, because at least they would still be together. 

“I still want that, more than anything,” he murmured, holding Seonghwa’s hysterical gaze with gentle hands, handling him with eternal care. “However, I cannot let you die, Seonghwa. I have a way to save you all, and I will take it. It will take time, but you will heal, and you will learn to live without me.” Seonghwa’s face crumpled, and an agonized wail tore a path up his throat, wet and garbled and so raw with pain that Hongjoong knew he would never forget the sound. 

“I don’t want to,” he breathed unsteadily, his voice hitching violently as sobs wracked his frame, and though Hongjoong heard the others breaking down all around them, he remained focused on the man in front of him. He would be the one to care for the rest of the crew, to keep them safe - Hongjoong knew that he would, no matter how shattered his own heart was, and he needed Seonghwa to understand one final thing before he could go. 

He brushed Seonghwa’s bangs away gently, desperate to see his face clearly one last time, and he pressed a finger under his chin to tilt his head up into the moonlight. “I love you, Seonghwa,” he admitted softly, eyes raw with honesty. “I always have. Be strong, just as you always are. My soul will find yours again.” Once the final words left his lips, he pulled away, gently releasing Seonghwa’s grip on his clothing. 

A tear of his own flowed down his cheek as he watched Seonghwa crumble to the deck, his legs completely giving out as he sobbed into his hands, and he regarded the rest of his crew for one last moment before leaving. “I love you all, for you are my true family. Take care of each other, and live boldly even without me.” And as he turned away, he had the urge to sink his nails deep into his chest and pull out his still beating heart, dropping it on the deck and leaving it where it belonged. 

He dropped the plank and crossed onto the navy ship, his tears cascading freely down his face and over the edge of his jaw now, for he didn’t care if his father saw. To not cry for the loss of his family would have been impossible, and so he wore the tears with pride, his jaw raised high even as he stepped onto the deck and watched his father approach. 

A rough hand closed around his wrist, pulling him forcefully away, cold rings digging into his skin and producing a bright sting of pain that kept him grounded. His feet scrabbled over the metal flooring as he tried to remain upright, allowing himself to be manhandled like this even as the bones in his wrist creaked under the pressure, weak from all the times they had been broken in the past. 

As he was dragged further away, he spared one last glance over his shoulder, locking eyes with Seonghwa across the great divide that now separated them, though Hongjoong could still feel where Seonghwa’s hands had touched him just moments before. He could see it in Seonghwa’s eyes when he realized that what he had felt all along had been love, the shift in understanding that Hongjoong had been waiting for, but now all he felt was pain. 

Not like this. It had never been supposed to happen like this. They were supposed to be happy - they would have been so happy, in another life. A life that would have nurtured them from the start, allowing their love to reach its full potential, rather than bringing them just close enough to feel the other’s breath on their lips before yanking them apart. 

Just before he was tugged into the cabin of his father’s ship, he called out his last message over the roaring wind, unable to hide his desperation. “Tell the stars I said goodbye.” 

Tell your heart not to forget me. 

The door closed with an air of finality, and Hongjoong collapsed in his father’s unrelenting grip, a raw sob tearing free from his abused throat. 

Chapter Text

Rough hands pushed Hongjoong to the floor, but he had already been on his way down, his knees collapsing now that his crew wasn’t there to watch him crumble. Tears streamed from his eyes unrestrained, and garbled sobs escaped his lips even as he tried to hold them at bay, his entire body consumed by a pain that ran so much deeper than any of his physical scars. Through his watery vision he could just barely make out his father hovering above him, hatred clear on his face as he reached for Hongjoong’s hip, pulling his sword and knives free before he could make any attempt to fight back. 

The blades clattered to the floor as his father threw them against the far wall, and Hongjoong knew he would never see them again. His father gripped at his collar, and Hongjoong’s neck strained as he was lifted a few inches off the ground, his head lolling back dangerously until he was slammed back against the unforgiving floor. A dull throbbing encased the back of his skull, and his father repeated the movement several times, until the surface below was smudged with red and Hongjoong’s vision had gone blurry from more than just the tears. 

“You will regret your choice to ever come back to me,” his father sneered, and amidst his daze Hongjoong swore the man’s eyes flashed red for a split second. “I am going to make this a fate worse than any hell for you. You dare to speak to me like that, as if you have forgotten all of our rules. As pathetic as ever, you are, crying over a group of little boys, the only ones stupid enough to serve one as spineless as you.” 

He pulled Hongjoong’s head up again by his collar, the straps of his armor digging into his shoulders painfully as his father hovered close enough for his sour breath to fill the space between them. “You will be obedient, or you will be punished. You will refer to me as your father, no other name. And you will endure your punishments without so much as a sound, or I will only make it worse for you. Surely you remember these things - I can see it in your face, that you still fear me. At least your pathetic brain is good for something.” 

Hongjoong had never forgotten those rules, for he had lived by them for the first fifteen years of his life. That old headspace threatened to return, and he tried his best to embrace it with trembling arms, terrified to return to the weak shell of a person that he had always been while under his father’s thumb while simultaneously knowing he had no choice. “Yes,” he choked out, for obedience had been part of his terms, no matter how it made his skin crawl, bitter bile pressing on the back of his tongue. 

Pain flared along his cheek as his father slapped him hard enough to snap his head to the side, his neck screaming at the strain, the rings on his fingers slicing through the skin like a sharpened knife through raw meat. He managed to keep any sound from escaping, for though his face stung relentlessly at the strike, he had suffered far worse in his life. This was nothing, and it brought Hongjoong the slightest bit of comfort to know that he was capable of enduring a lot more pain now than he had been as a child. 

“Yes, father,” snarled the man glaring down at him, and Hongjoong could do nothing but stare at him, his mind screaming for him to obey even as his lips remained slack. He knew this wouldn’t end well for him if he didn’t comply, and seconds later he was shoved back down, the back of his head hitting the floor with a sickening thud. The hands gripping at his collar pulled back, and Hongjoong managed one wheezing breath before they reappeared around his neck, squeezing the vulnerable area with enough force to compress his windpipe. 

His lips parted in a soundless gasp as he desperately tried to draw in air, but it simply had nowhere to go, unable to reach his lungs as it just sat in his open mouth. Pressure began to build inside of his head, ears ringing as his eyes bulged from their sockets the longer he struggled for air, thrashing his limbs to no avail. Even now that Hongjoong was an adult, his father could still overpower him so easily, his frame corded with muscle and fiercely strong in comparison to the brittle bones and scarred tissue of his son. 

The rough grip of his hands was just as Hongjoong remembered, and for a moment he felt like he was back in his old skin, much smaller and covered in less scars. Fear pounded against his skull as spots began to dance in front of his vision, obscuring his father’s bared teeth and crazed expression, more terrifying than any monster. His eyes were black as night, and suddenly Hongjoong understood why so many people feared the dark. 

He clawed at his neck uselessly, for he could never have peeled away his father’s fingers as his limbs filled with lead, the inside of his mouth suddenly coated with an onslaught of thick, metallic blood. It pooled at the base of his tongue, and Hongjoong choked on it as his body jerked violently, barely aware enough to tilt his head and allow the liquid to run from his mouth. His vision blurred, and just when he feared he was about to pass out, the hands finally released their relentless grip. 

Hongjoong gasped for air even as his throat screamed in protest, and he heaved bile onto the floor, his entire body trembling as he spit the remaining blood from his mouth. This was far from the first time his father had strangled him like this, and he had felt the pain of such minor esophageal tears before, the searing flames that encased his throat whenever he attempted to eat, or speak, or even just breathe. He would heal on his own, but not without pain, and involuntary shudders wracked his frame as he blinked the spots from behind his eyes. 

“You never fucking learn,” his father spat, droplets of saliva splattering down onto Hongjoong’s face, and his head smacked against the ground as he flinched. “‘Yes, father’. It is a simple thing. Say it.” 

And this time, Hongjoong scrambled to obey, his heart racing as he opened his mouth, still wheezing. His terrified eyes stared up into his father’s merciless ones, their features so similar even when twisted into contrasting expressions. He tried to repeat the order, but the word father degenerated on the way up his throat, a garbled noise all that left his mouth even as panic seized his chest. Despite the pain already searing his exposed nerves, he couldn’t bring himself to say the word - he couldn’t call this man his father, not after everything he had done. 

Hongjoong had finally learned enough of how life was supposed to be to know that this man had never once been a father to him, and even as he cowered in fear he refused to give his abuser what he wanted. He refused to submit, to fall back into the role of the son who was never good enough, who sought to please a man who could never be satisfied. His perception of love had been so warped back then, to the point where he had believed a withheld beating was a sign that his father cared for him, that he was only worthy of love when he had been compliant enough to deserve it .

Now he knew what real love felt like, and he had no desire to grovel for his father’s scraps. He set his jaw and stared right back at the man, even though he knew he would suffer worse for it. “You will regret being this impertinent,” his father hissed, moving fast as a striking cobra as he snared Hongjoong’s wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling hard on his arm as he straightened and dragged Hongjoong down the hallway. 

The force of the sudden movement nearly yanked Hongjoong’s shoulder from its socket, and he couldn’t manage to get to his feet when he was being pulled along the floor like this, humiliation burning at his skin. He didn’t know where his father was bringing him, but he assumed he would be thrown into a cell, a cruel parallel to Seonghwa’s initial days as a prisoner on the ship. Only when they took a sharp turn down a smaller hallway did he begin to understand his father’s intentions, for Hongjoong had spent years on ships exactly like this one - he knew what that small room against the far wall was. 

A closet. An incredibly small one, pitch black inside when the door was closed. And his father intended to leave him in there as punishment for his defiance. Panic clawed at Hongjoong’s already destroyed throat, and he thrashed against his father’s grip with all of the strength he had left, eyes wide and heart hammering at his ribs. No, no, no. He had felt brave in the face of his father’s physical violence, but he possessed no defenses when it came to such psychological torture - Hongjoong was terrified of small, enclosed spaces, and his father knew it. Of course he knew it, for he was the reason for the fear in the first place, and Hongjoong clawed his nails into the hand gripping his wrist to no avail. 

His entire body ached as his father dragged him closer to the closet, but he didn’t even feel it as he desperately arched his back and tried to brace his legs against the passing walls, losing himself entirely to the dread that snuffed his breath like a wet cloth over his lips. “No, no - p-please, don’t put me in there,” he tried to protest, though the words were inaudible due to the damage his father had done to his throat, leaving his mouth as exhalations of air. His father didn’t even look down at him, and only a few seconds remained before he would be trapped in there - he had to do something. 

Even though he had nowhere to go, Hongjoong still needed to get out of this hold, to distance himself from that secluded closet. Logic evaded his mind as he reached his hands up to pull on his father’s sleeve, gaining just enough ground to strain his neck and sink his teeth into the coarse skin of the man’s forearm. He bit down with every bit of power contained in his jaw, and even though the bone had been broken several times in his life, he felt blood spread over his tongue for the second time in a handful of minutes as he clamped down as hard as he could. 

A deep grunt passed through his father’s clenched teeth as he tried to pull his arm free, but Hongjoong didn’t budge, rivulets of blood running over the sharp curve of his chin. Never had he fought back against his father like this - he had yelled and screamed in times of weakness, when his father had forced him to do things especially horrific, but this was the first time he had drawn blood from the man. The metallic taste filled his mind with a heady sense of accomplishment, though it didn’t last long, a sharp kick landing right against his stomach and forcing all of the air from his lungs. 

His jaw slackened as he curled in around his abdomen, and his father pulled his wrist free before Hongjoong could regain his bearings, blood splattering against the floor as he wiped the wound against his shirt. A stripe of scarlet stained into the fabric, and instead of going for the wrist again, he knotted his fingers in Hongjoong’s hair, pulling him across the remaining distance to the closet. Hairs ripped free in his grip as fire spread along Hongjoong’s scalp, his mouth open in a silent cry of pain as he failed to inhale a breath after the blow to his gut. 

He watched as his father ripped open the door to the closet, his agitation palpable in the air as he pulled Hongjoong up by his hair, eyes wild with anger. “You are still enough of a fool to think that I don’t know how to dismantle you? I am the one who created you, and I will also be the one to destroy you.” A ruthless hand clamped around Hongjoong’s jaw, the bone straining beneath it. “Enjoy your time rotting in here - by the time you come out, I assume you will have remembered your place. Or perhaps I will just leave you to die, panicking in the darkness.” 

A hoarse cry of protest forced a path through Hongjoong’s lips, but he stood no chance against his father’s strength, unable to stand up due to the throbbing that consumed his gut and radiated along his limbs. The hand in his hair now shoved against the side of his skull, sending him sprawling into the open closet, his head smacking against the wall as he crumpled into the corner. In the fleeting light from the hallway he was able to make out three buckets next to the entrance, but the door slammed shut a second later, submerging him in darkness as the outside lock clicked.

Only a single strip of light shined from the gap beneath the door, and Hongjoong threw himself down onto the floor with his head still spinning, nausea clogging his throat as he stared through the gap with one eye. The shadows of his father’s shoes stood there for a moment before stepping away, leaving him all alone in a closet no wider than the length of one of his arms. 

Already static began to fill his mind, and he pounded his fists against the door, screaming despite the pain it caused. His throat felt like it had been shredded from the inside by a pair of wicked sharp claws, raw and torn into jagged sheets of flesh, and his guttural cries rattled wetly as they consumed the small space. Tremors wracked his entire body, and the fear pounded against the inside of his skull so hard that it was all he could feel, hardly registering any of his injuries anymore. 

“Let me out!” He shrieked, completely hysterical as the door rattled on its hinges, throwing all of his weight into each strike as he tried to break it down. His efforts were useless, for he simply did not possess the amount of mass necessary to destroy a military grade door, but he couldn’t just collapse and give up either. If he did that, then the walls would begin to suffocate him, compressing his bones and organs and brain until he wondered if he was even alive at all. 

The small gap under the door let in just enough light for him to see the lowest hinge where it connected to the wall, and through his daze of panic he fixated on it, heart in his throat as shaking fingers touched the cold metal. A thick steel pin through the center kept both sides of the hinge in place, and Hongjoong swallowed down metallic saliva as he dug the nails of his thumbs beneath the head of the pin, determined to push it upwards despite the pain he would feel. No physical agony could compare to the fear that addled his mind, and he had lost fingernails too many times to count - he needed to do this. 

Wheezing breaths dispersed into the dark as he clenched his teeth, beginning to push up on the hinge pin, his nails already bending away from the flesh of his thumbs. He managed to force the pin up a centimeter or two before the first one gave way, bending all the way back and ripping away from the nail bed with a nauseating tearing sound, one that Hongjoong could only hear because no other sounds filled the cramped space.

The pain didn’t even register as he shoved other nails beneath the pin, desperate to free himself from this isolation even as he knew it would never work - his nails were already splitting and cracking, and this was only the first hinge. Panicked sobs began to fall from his lips as he refused to relent, blood trickling down his fingers with the more damage he caused, and he wouldn’t have stopped until every last fingernail was gone if it weren’t for the sudden approach of footsteps. 

Hongjoong scrambled away from the hinges, ready to attack whoever opened the door and make his escape within that small window, heart stopping as shadows moved in the light under the door. “I should have known you would go for the hinges - I could hear the metal scraping. Your life is out of your control now,” came his father’s cold voice, and a chill crept along Hongjoong’s spine like the eight spindly legs of a spider. 

He didn’t understand why his father had come back until the shadows moved away from the door, followed by the sound of something heavy grating along the floor, the reverberations vibrating beneath his feet. A heavier shadow appeared, and as it began to blot out more and more of the sliver of light, Hongjoong froze in dread so visceral he didn’t think his heart would ever beat again. And perhaps it would have been better that way, for his father was pushing something heavy in front of the door, blocking his chance at escape while simultaneously eliminating the one hint of light he had been able to cling to. 

“No - no,” Hongjoong exclaimed, snapping back into action at once, frantically banging against the door as the room grew continuously darker. “Let me out of here! Let me out!” He screamed the words again and again, throwing himself at the door, ignoring the abuse he was doing to his own body. But his father never ceased, not until the last of the light was gone, and Hongjoong was submerged in total darkness. 

He couldn’t see a single thing, and his panic grew to levels he had never experienced before, unable to fill his lungs as he screamed and ripped at the door with his already destroyed nails, as if he could claw his way out from the inside. The dark consumed his entire being, forcing its way into his mouth and down his throat to poison his insides, seeping into his eye sockets and through his ears. He couldn’t escape it, and he only stopped attacking the door when he couldn’t hold himself up any longer, shaking violently all the way to the core of his body. 

Though he could feel the cold floor beneath him, he had no concept of the room or any of his surroundings, and he jolted as his shoulder brushed against one of the buckets on the ground, completely consumed by fear. Bleeding fingers clutched at his chest as his heart beat rapidly, too fast to be healthy, and he couldn’t breathe no matter how hard he tried to gasp for air. No air existed in a space this small, and he vomited all over himself at the thought, choking on it as he coughed and gagged, heaving for what felt like hours. 

His mind was completely empty in the face of this intense hysteria, and he could think of nothing but the darkness, no concept of time or space to ground him. He braced both of his arms against the walls, but that only served to make him panic further, for he swore he could feel them closing in and compressing his bones until nothing remained. The dark was a ghastly, nightmarish creature with twisting limbs and a gaping maw stuffed with gleaming teeth of liquid night, reaching into Hongjoong’s mouth and scraping razor sharp claws down into his chest, spearing his heart with ease and pulling it free. Blood filled his sack of bones from the inside as the dark beast gripped his heart in its wretched hands, squeezing it until it ruptured, possessing complete control of his body and mind. 

Hongjoong could hardly hear his own wailing, the sounds muffled as he tried to get to his feet again only to crumple back down to the floor, this time curling on his side and hugging his legs to his chest as he made himself as small as possible. Maybe then the walls wouldn’t eat him alive, but even in the dark he could see their teeth, sinking into his skin and tearing him to shreds. In the dark, he could see so many things that weren’t really there, but no one was around to comfort him anymore, and he lost himself completely to the fear. 

He panicked until his body couldn’t handle it anymore, his mind shutting down enough for his heart to beat more regularly, his breaths interrupted by wet hiccups as he whimpered with each exhale, still trembling like he would never again be still. His eyes remained open but unseeing, though eventually he couldn’t tell if they had drifted closed or not, unsure if he was actually blinking or if it was all in his mind. 

Exhaustion settled over him like a leaden blanket, and he extended a trembling hand out in front of him, expecting to touch a monster of rotting flesh and exposed bone but only making contact with a hollow tin bucket. Swallowing thickly, his teeth chattered as he reached into it, finding nothing inside. Trailing his fingers along the metal, he found the next one, only this time when he reached his fingers inside, they touched something cold that coated his fingers. 

Without his sight, it took him a few seconds to understand that it was full of water, and he moved on to examine the third, some kind of thicker food inside. He would have leaned forward to smell it, but he was too scared to move, and the smell of his own vomit would have overpowered anything else anyway. Dimly he understood that the empty bucket was likely for him to relieve himself, though he was surprised his father would even provide him with such amenities.

The buckets startled his mind back into a more conscious state as he recalled the ration buckets he had forced Seonghwa to live from when he had still been a prisoner, and he froze as his memories trickled back to him, his nose stinging and eyes welling with tears all over again. He had succeeded in saving them, but now he had no one to help him as he lost his grip on reality, and he knew it would only get far worse from here. 

A soft sob rolled over his lips, echoing in the small space, hot tears spilling over the skin of his face. Hongjoong pulled his hand away from the buckets and touched his own face instead, fingers gliding over the familiar features even though he couldn’t see anything. He tried to remember what it felt like to smile, but it felt impossible to replicate the expression when he felt so close to dying. A gaping hole exposed his chest where his heart used to be, and it hurt more than any of the physical wounds throbbing in the back of his consciousness, the agony of loss. 

Hongjoong had never had anything long enough to lose it before, but as he dissolved into sobs on the floor of his own personal hell, he knew that he didn’t want to live if he had to do it without the ones he loved. He endured this only for their sake, in the hope that they would find his letter and come to his rescue, but already it was so much more difficult to withstand than it had been throughout his childhood. 

Perhaps he could brace himself against the physical pain better now, but back then he hadn’t known that life could be any better than this. He had figured that all people suffered like he did, that the world was just a miserable place, but now that he knew differently his entire body ached with the desire to go back to his family. What he hadn’t known as a child couldn’t hurt him, but now he knew of love. Love had changed everything, and now losing it hurt him beyond the flesh, cutting all the way to his soul. 

He wanted his family back, but he had been the one to willingly leave them behind, and now he was stuck here in the dark all alone with nothing but himself. Just like he always had been back then, only this time he couldn’t see, and he would have rather lost an arm or leg than his eyes. Anything but his eyes - he still had so many things he needed them for. To blink up at the stars, and look at the people he loved, and cry all of the tears he had been repressing all his life. 

At least he could still cry, and that was all he did for a long time, crying into his hands and smearing tears all over his face and wishing that a gentle thumb could have wiped them all away. But he was alone, and no one was around to comfort him, so he wrapped his arms tight around himself and tried his best to replicate what Seonghwa would have done if he was there. 

He brushed the pad of his thumb beneath his lashes and swept away the moisture there, even though he replaced it a moment later with more. He swept his bangs out of his face, even though they couldn’t obstruct his vision when he couldn’t see in the first place. Lowering his trembling hands, he laced his own fingers together, trying to picture the touch of larger, more delicate hands instead. 

Hongjoong didn’t know a lot about love, for he was still new to all of this, but he tried to comfort himself in the only way he knew how, by imitating the things his friends had done for him. Soft sobs still escaped his lips, and he wondered if they would ever stop, but he felt a little bit calmer as he imagined Seonghwa lying beside him instead of that twisted creature of darkness. With Seonghwa by his side he wouldn’t need to feel afraid, because at least his heart would be safely at home, protected by the man he loved. 

Eventually he reached down into the pocket of his pants, finding the note he had tucked away there and carefully unfolding it. Though he couldn’t read the words, he had stared at the writing enough times to have it memorized, and he repeated the sentences in his mind again and again, clinging to this physical proof that their love for him was real. 

The note remained clenched in his hands for hours, which turned into days, which probably turned into weeks, though Hongjoong couldn’t be sure when the passage of time was impossible to feel in such complete darkness. He spent all of his time curled on the floor, and he hardly ate or drank anything, just enough to keep himself from completely shutting down. Consciousness came and went, and Hongjoong couldn’t tell if he was awake or not most of the time, for it all looked the same. 

With his legs hugged close to his chest, he wondered sometimes if he had ever grown up at all, or if he still lived in the body of a child. What if none of it had ever been real, and he had made it all up as a way to cope with the pain inflicted by his father? Panic seized his bones whenever he believed it to be true, for he went through cycles of such thoughts as his mind warped and mutated in the dark, and he only managed to calm himself down when he felt the note in his hands. He was constantly rubbing the paper beneath his fingers to make sure that he hadn’t been making that up either. 

Sometimes he just lied there, so bogged down by exhaustion that he couldn’t think at all, but sometimes his mind ran wild with fear until he was clawing at his skin and screaming, his throat ripping to shreds all over again. He began to think that it would never end, that he would just suffer here until he died, and sometimes when his body begged for water he had to force himself to grab for the bucket, for the other option seemed so inviting. 

The only thing that kept him from leaving the buckets untouched and allowing himself to die was the thought of his crew. He had made this choice, and he had left that letter for Seonghwa to find, and he had no choice but to see it through. Finding the letter would give them all hope, and he couldn’t break their hearts by dying before they came to his rescue - that would only wound them more grievously than his sacrifice already had. 

So he forced himself to stay alive, though he did so with tired eyes and a weary heart, his mind begging for reprieve from this hell. Every time his panic surged, he crumbled further into exhaustion, so drained even as he howled and trembled and beat his fists against the door. This cycle was stealing away the last of his sanity, and he feared that if his father ever did open the door, he wouldn’t be the same person as before. 

What if his crew came to find him, only to pass him by simply because they didn’t even recognize him anymore? What if he had become the monster in the darkness, and his father would open the door to find the closet vacant of anything human, leaving him condemned to haunt this space forever? 

He couldn’t feel his own body anymore, and he didn’t even know if it was there at all. Was he human, or had he become something else? Was he still alive, or had he passed over into death, only he didn’t know it because he had always been destined for hell anyway and this was pretty goddamn close? As he flexed his numb fingers, and as he felt his body consumed by tremors of panic for the millionth time, he wondered if this body was made of flesh or weaved from smoke. He wondered if he had ever been real, or if he had died along with his mother during childbirth, condemned by his father’s hate even then.

In his moments of clarity - or as close to clarity as his mind was capable - he remembered that his father had stolen his sword, and he could hear the words of the woman whom he had bought it from. The inscription had promised protection, and he tried to believe that it had been stolen because he wouldn’t be needing it anymore, because his crew would come save him and he would never have to face his demon of a father again. 

Hope was impossible to find the longer he spent locked in the darkness, but he still clung to his memory of the feeling, for that was the best he could do. Hongjoong had never been an optimist - in fact, he had spent most of his life unable to find anything positive about existing at all, and his mind was actively tearing itself apart as his past and present selves beared arms. The child inside of him wanted to give up and die, but the other part of him refused. The part of him that had acted as a captain, a brother, and a friend. The part of him that was still in love, no matter how terribly it hurt. 

For their sake, he endured the hysteria and the despondency as they cycled, and though he came close to surrender, he never allowed himself to yield. Hongjoong had always been stubborn, and for once he chose to be stubborn in his love rather than his hate, lingering on the edge of the cliff but refusing to plummet to his death just the same. 

And after an eternity spent lost in the dark, his father came for him. 

When Hongjoong heard the footsteps from outside, he hardly even registered the sounds, for they had come and gone all throughout his time in the closet. No one ever stopped by his door, and no one ever tried to move the heavy thing his father had placed in front of it, and so he did nothing but lie there on the floor. The beat of his heart in his ears was the loudest sound, and he tried to keep it steady, too weak to give into his panic all over again. Not that he had a choice in the matter, for whenever the trembling started he could do nothing but descend into madness and terror, all rational thought flooding from his mind. 

He didn’t react until he heard the sudden shift of the heavy thing blocking the door, and when a tiny tendril of light appeared from the gap that had been closed off since that first day, his heart leapt into his throat. Head spinning, he forced himself to sit upright, his shoulder leaning heavily against the wall as he slumped to the side. After so long without proper nourishment he could hardly move, and he used what little sense that remained in his mind to tuck Wooyoung’s note back into his pocket, not wanting his father or whoever was outside of the door to see it. 

More light continued to stream into the room through the narrow gap, and Hongjoong avoided looking at it directly, staring down at his body instead as he finally caught a heavily shadowed glimpse of himself, proof that he wasn’t dead after all. He could just barely make out his legs, awkwardly crumpled beneath him, the straps of the armor he still wore glinting in the minimal light. His body was covered in grime and dried blood, and though he had become numb to the smell in the room, he knew it was far from pleasant. 

When the lock clicked he wanted to move forward into the light while simultaneously wishing to cower in the dark, and all he could do was remain in place, his limbs already trembling due to fear and malnourishment and a thousand other things. Though he had screamed to be freed time and time again, he knew that this was only the beginning of the pain his father had planned for him, and he didn’t think he could take any more of it. After building himself up to be so strong at the start, he possessed none of that resilience anymore, and when the door opened he winced and looked away as his eyes burned. 

The small strip of light under the door had exposed shadows that he could just barely stand to look at, but now he couldn’t see anything due to the strain, his entire plane of sight consumed by black orbs of sightless pain. His skull pounded, and fear seized his heart as he knew that someone was standing there, but he couldn’t see well enough to tell who it was. “P-please,” he moaned, his voice a destroyed whisper after all of the screaming he had done, and he didn’t even know what he was begging for. He must have looked like an emaciated wraith, with the sharp points of his bone jutting against thin stretches of skin, cowering away from the light like he had been burned. Part of him was glad that his friends weren’t here, for he knew they would never be able to clear their minds of the sickening image. 

“Still alive, I see. Though not by much,” came the grating voice of his father, and the sudden sound exploded against his sensitive ears. Hongjoong flinched back violently, trying to move away, but he couldn’t see a thing and his father had no difficulty grabbing the shoulder part of his armor and dragging him forward. A whimper fell past his lips before he could clamp them closed, and he shut his eyes tight as he was pulled out into the hallway. Exposed completely by light after dwelling in the darkness for so long, Hongjoong felt like some kind of shriveled cave creature, with eyes adjusted to the dark and a body so hideous that no one was ever supposed to see it.

His father didn’t pause for a second as he moved with purpose, and Hongjoong slammed into walls and doors as he was dragged behind, too weak to fight back. He just hung limp in the clutches of the man who had hurt him like this, barely catching his angry stream of words, ears ringing from the sounds after so much time spent in solitude. “I assume you have learned your lesson. Your disobedience is disgusting, and you will remember your place, or you will live out the rest of your days regretting it.” 

Hongjoong couldn’t even find the energy within himself to be afraid, just curling in on himself and trying to protect his vulnerable abdomen, pulled along as dead weight by his father. He was yanked over the edge of the deck, and he realized that they must have arrived back at the base, for even though he couldn’t see he could sense the dread that clung to the thick metal walls of the place. Though he hadn’t been here in years, almost a decade, he had visited the base enough times in his nightmares to remember it exactly, dragged through the cold outside air until he was brought inside through a hidden door. 

The abuse his father had inflicted upon him for his entire childhood had been largely kept secret - though people saw the cuts and bruises, they never knew the full extent of the torture. His father had always ensured that the truth be hidden, and no one within this base would have come to his defense anyway. They were all under the command of the same man, and they obeyed in order to avoid his wrath. 

Although Hongjoong didn’t know what had unraveled at the base after his escape, he knew that his father would never admit to his own ignorance. He was almost positive that the world thought he was dead, aside from a few close lackeys, and he tried to fill his lungs with as much of the salty outside air as he could before he found himself confined inside once more. His father would never let him out of his room, and though he knew how to pick the lock, he wouldn't be able to do it often without being discovered. He would be trapped all over again, in a slightly bigger space haunted by the demons of his past. 

Pain reignited all along his wounded body as he was forcefully dragged down halls and up flights of stairs, and by the time his father came to a stop Hongjoong was panting, struggling to catch his breath. Though most of his wounds were superficial, not a single area of his body had been spared, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to move normally for a while as they healed. Not that they would ever have the chance, for this was how his father wanted him - weak and miserable, his mind vulnerable and powerless against the torture to come. 

He heard it when his father opened another door, and this time his entire body seized in fright, an automatic reaction to the sound of those same hinges creaking, grating against his ears as he felt like a child all over again. That sound had woken him from restless sleep countless times, sitting up on his rigid mattress as his heart pounded in his throat, the shadowed monster standing in the doorway ready to inflict the pain of that day. 

“You’ll find that nothing in here has changed,” his father informed, voice cold as a steel blade and just as sharp. “You will remain here just as you always did, though no one will be letting you out this time for lessons. This room will be your entire world, and you will stand at attention whenever I open this door, no matter how much pain you are in. Your weakness is revolting, and I will again teach you what weak people deserve.” 

With that, he shoved Hongjoong forward and slammed the door, leaving him alone in the room that he still remembered like he had been there just yesterday. Still he couldn’t see, and he blinked his eyes desperately in an attempt to clear them, but it was no use. He was stuck in his childhood room, and panic gripped at his chest all over again as he curled up on the floor, trembling and whimpering. 

After everything he had done to escape and build a new life for himself, all of the progress he had made to break free of the mindset his father had forced upon him, he still found himself back here. Despite his best efforts, none of it had ever mattered, and he could feel his bones beginning to rot as he laid there forever, unable to move without being able to see. He was a child all over again, and he felt just as afraid, wishing that all of the pain would just stop. 

Hours passed before he finally began to regain some of his vision, though it would be a while before he could see normally again, everything cast in shadow and warped by the strange orbs of darkness that danced inside of his damaged eyes. Still, he could see enough to make out the rest of the room, and he swallowed thickly as he dragged himself onto his hands and knees. He didn’t trust himself to walk, so he crawled instead, unsettled as he approached the one sanctuary he had always been able to rely on - the small window against the far wall. 

Trapped in this room again as an adult, he felt out of place and strange, like a decomposing doll left inside of a dollhouse that had shrunk with time. His mattress that had once been big enough for him now appeared way too small, and in his mind he remembered the window being farther from the ground, though he understood now that his childlike stature was to blame. Never had he felt so disoriented, for everything in this room was exactly the same as he remembered but also slightly different, and his chest rose and fell erratically as he came to a stop by the window. 

The light streaming in from outside made his eyes ache, but he sat in the small patch of sunlight illuminating the floor anyway, feeling the warmth settle over his abused skin. Here in the light, he could begin to make out the state of his own body, and chills spread along his skin as he realized that most of the injuries hadn’t even been inflicted by his father. 

His face had nearly healed from the ring wounds, and his neck wasn’t as tender as it had been immediately after being strangled. When he raised a hand to the back of his head he could still feel crusted blood in his hair, but the area didn’t hurt as much. After all, he had heard his father mention that three weeks had passed amidst the snatches of angry rambles he had actually been able to understand, and that was enough time for the wounds from that first day to have mostly healed. 

However, when he looked down at himself, his fingers were crusted with flaking blood, some of his nails split while others were missing completely. Bruises covered the sides of his hands and stretched all the way down his forearms, so dark purple that they almost appeared to be black. As he scanned over the rest of his body, he found similar bruises all along his shoulders and hips as well, extending down his legs. His breathing picked up as he struggled to remember how he had gotten them, until he recalled all the times he had thrown himself at the door, screaming and clawing at the walls, too lost in his own panic to even feel the pain. It was no wonder that he couldn’t move right - his entire body was black and blue. 

Scratches littered his skin as well, and he knew they had been gouged by his own splintered nails, some caked with dried blood as they healed while others still glistened in the sunlight. Though he couldn’t see his face, he imagined that he must have looked like a human who had died days ago, with sallow skin sinking into the crevices of bone as he decomposed into nothing more than a skeleton. Dimly, he remembered how Seonghwa had looked as his time in the cell progressed, and he shuddered at the mental image even now. 

Hongjoong sat there in the tiny square of light cast onto the floor by the window, allowing the warmth to seep into his skin, for he hadn’t even realized how cold he was until he began to shiver. Teeth clattering, he hugged his arms around his waist, wishing that he could wrap himself in one of the warm blankets that covered his bed back on the ship. He had no blankets here, and though his armor was uncomfortable, he refused to take it off in hopes that it was helping to retain some of his body heat. 

He watched as the sun sank closer to the horizon, the sky turning fiery red and orange as it disappeared, and he had to avert his eyes from the vibrant streaks of color. Not because they hurt his eyes, even though they did, but because it felt wrong to gaze upon something so beautiful when everything had gone wrong. Stuck in this cramped room, surrounded by the bare necessities and nothing else, he couldn’t understand how the sunset could still stand to be so bright. 

When he was younger, he used to wait for the sunset each day, desperate to see the colors that contrasted against the drab grey of the rest of his life. But now he couldn’t stand to look, shame burning at his cheeks as he stared down at the floor, his heart twisting. Shouldn’t the sun understand that there was nothing left to shine for? How could the earth still be home to such wondrous colors when this degree of cruelty should have blotted it all out? 

He refused to look until the light diffused, and only then did he raise his head again, a sob lodging in his throat as the first twinkling stars came to life. Tears blurred his vision as he greeted them, his voice cracking and hoarse, the salty droplets falling into his mouth. “It’s been a while,” he whispered with his best attempt at a shaking smile, though he couldn’t force his lips to curve, not when his heart was sinking to the floor. “I hope you’ve been keeping them safe. I hope they’re okay.” 

Any attempt at composure vanished as soon as the words left his lips, and he ran his hands over his cheeks, pulling at the skin and smudging his tears all over as the wet sobs tore free. “I miss them. I miss them so much, and I don’t know how I can survive this again,” he confessed, finally speaking his fears aloud, sweat soaking into the hair around his temples as he cried. “My heart hurts, and the pain won’t stop, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to bear it.” He had found something that he couldn’t bear to live without, and now he was being forced to do exactly that, and the agony overpowered everything else. 

The stars could only twinkle back at him, but he still drew strength from the company, for at least he didn’t feel as alone anymore. He instantly located Polaris, and he traced his eyes over the big dipper, daring to hope that maybe Seonghwa was looking at it too. For a long time he just stared up at the arrangement of stars he had taught Seonghwa how to find that one night, and before he knew it he was speaking again, the words streaming from his lips unrestrained. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, sniffling quietly. “I’m sorry for leaving you, before we ever even had a chance at love. Maybe I should have told you sooner how I felt, but I wanted you to understand those feelings on your own first, before I said anything. For all your life, people only ever took from you, and I didn’t want to do that. I would have waited forever for you, I hope that you know that. I hope Wooyoung told you that I knew how you felt even before you did, because I swear I knew.” 

He inhaled deeply, though he was hardly able to fill his lungs before coughs wracked his frame, tearing at the inside of his throat and sending burning pain along the sensitive area. Clutching at his chest, he continued to speak, staring up at the stars with tears in his eyes and agony in his heart. “I love you so much, Seonghwa. I will spend the rest of my life loving you, whether I survive long enough to come back to you or not. You have changed my life in ways that you’ll never know, and it has been a privilege to know you. Please just… keep them safe, and give them the love they need, but not so much that you don’t keep any for yourself. You have to love yourself, too.” 

The stars seemed to grow brighter as he spoke, though he was sure it was just a trick of the night, his damaged eyes struggling to see. He hoped that Seonghwa could feel his love from afar, whether he had found the star map yet or not. “It hurts so much,” he admitted, shaking his head even as his neck screamed its protest. “He’s just going to keep hurting me, and I’m so scared. I feel like my - my brain is disintegrating, and my heart is rotting, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to love as strongly as I did before. I’m scared that he’s going to take that from me most of all. What if I go through all of this, and my heart is too broken to be fixed? Even if I escape, what if he still wins?” 

Hongjoong’s spine ached under the weight of the words, and he wiped frantically at his wet cheeks, awful sounds escaping his lips as he cried. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else after that, for it simply hurt too much, and his eyes wandered over the other constellations he had learned to find in this very same room. 

Chiron gleamed in the sea of stars, and he found others as well, all of the legends he had fixated on when they had been his only source of escape. Back then, he used to read those stories and identify shreds of the person he wanted to be within their words, the pieces of himself that he had never been permitted to nurture. When he looked up at the constellations, he had imagined that the stars could see those parts of himself that he felt like he was losing, and that perhaps they would hold them and keep them safe for him. 

The force of his own longing was suffocating, but he hoped that the stars would be able to keep his love safe, even while his father tried to beat it out of him. When his exhaustion threatened to take over, he laid flat against the floor, curling up and protecting his stomach as he kept his eyes trained on the window. Even when his eyelids grew heavy, he refused to let them close, too scared to sleep. He didn’t want to wake up and forget where he was, to expect for a moment to see the walls of his quarters back on his ship, the sounds of his friends running down the hall. He didn’t think his heart would be able to handle that. 

Eventually, the screams started, and his tears fell faster as he clamped his hands over his ears. He hadn’t expected for his father to have changed his ways, but hearing him hurt innocent people through the walls never got any easier, and all he could do was retreat further into his mind until he felt numb all over again. He stared out the window until the first of the sun’s rays broke through the darkness, and then he continued to stare, ignoring his hollow stomach and the pounding against his skull. 

The screaming stopped at some point, though he didn’t even realize when it did, his hands only falling away from his ears when he ran out of the strength it took to keep them there. He knew it would only be a matter of time until his father returned to his room, and he reluctantly shifted so that he could face towards the door instead, unwilling to be taken by surprise when the time came. 

His eyes trailed over the floor in numb disinterest, hardly registering the flakes of dried blood and streaks of grime his body had left behind, eventually landing on a small cricket that trekked across the ground. He reached out a hand, placing it in the cricket’s path and watching as it used its tiny legs to walk up the slope of his hand and into the cup of his palm. Bringing his hand to eye level, he watched the cricket as it roamed around his hand, jolting imperceptibly when it began to rub its wings together to produce a high-pitched chirping sound. 

Tears blurred his vision as he listened to the cricket’s attempt at song, pain driving through his heart as it reminded him of all the times Seonghwa had hummed without even realizing he was doing it. Everything reminded him of the one he loved, whether it was the stars or the moon or the small bug wandering over his palm, for wasn’t that the very nature of love? The entire world seemed to scream Seonghwa’s name, and Hongjoong now found beauty in an insignificant cricket, because he knew Seonghwa would have done the same. He would have allowed the bug to crawl over his skin with a smile, and Hongjoong tried to smile too, though the expression stretched uncomfortably over his salt-covered skin. 

“Hi,” he said dumbly, vaguely understanding that he was more delirious than he had thought to be talking to a bug. “Um, I’m sorry that you’re stuck in here too. My friend - well, he’s a lot more than that, actually - would have probably started talking to you, so that’s why I’m talking, too. Sorry. I just - I miss my friends, but I don’t want to burden you with that stuff. Those tiny wings have enough weight to carry already.” 

As if punctuating his words, the cricket made it to the tip of his finger before launching into the air, leaping back onto the floor and tucking its wings up against its back once more. Hongjoong watched as it slowly headed back for the door, and at least it was small enough to fit through the gap underneath, only one of them condemned to remain here. 

Focused as he was on the cricket, Hongjoong flinched violently when the door knob turned, the door swinging open as the familiar form of his father stepped inside. He opened his mouth to cry out a warning, but before he could a thick boot had already crushed the cricket to a pulp, a smashed carcass left behind on the ground

Irrational fury ignited within him, and he forced himself to stand on shaking legs, vision blurring and knees weak as he pressed a hand against the wall for support. “What do you want?” He hissed, though he knew he couldn’t have looked very intimidating when he could hardly hold himself upright. 

His father raised his brows, arms crossed over his chest as they stood across from one another. “That is no way for you to greet your father. It appears that you still have not learned a thing - what a pity. Just as useless as you always were, only now you have grown confident during your time away from me. Those friends of yours have weakened you, I can see it every time I look at you. You’re afraid, and no amount of reckless anger will hide that from me. I am your father, and it is my right to discipline you.”

Hongjoong clenched his fists at his sides, ignoring the pain that bloomed along his broken nails at the pressure, refusing to back away as his father approached despite how his body screamed for him to hide. There wasn’t anywhere to hide, his father had always made sure of that, and running would only make his beating worse. “I don’t care,” he breathed, his entire face burning. “I am afraid, but I won’t be knocked down so easily, either. Discipline me all you want - I think you’ll find that none of it fucking matters. I hate you more than I have ever hated anything, and I refuse to make this easy for you. I was a child then, but I’m not one anymore. Fuck you.” Spit flew from his lips as he spoke, and when his father reached out to grab his neck, he just barely managed to keep his flinch at bay, throat constricting as he squeezed.  

A fist of clenched fingers laden with rings collided directly with his cheekbone, and his neck snapped backwards, his knees giving out as his vision exploded into stars nothing like the ones up in the sky. The fist landed again and again, until blood splattered the floor and misted against the walls, the skin on Hongjoong’s face shredded to pieces, small chunks of flesh mingling with the blood on the ground. 

He was barely able to hang onto consciousness, and he struggled to open his eyes enough to stare back at his father, his face consumed by complete agony. No bones were noticeably broken like his jaw or nose, but he had no idea if his cheekbone or skull had fractured, the pain gripping his entire head like a relentless vice. When he tried to speak, the blood poured from his mouth, over his chin and down onto his armor. “You can’t break me, not like you did before.” And for the first time since his capture, a smile came over his lips easily, his teeth stained scarlet and his face beaten to a fleshy pulp. He must have looked like something out of a nightmare, and he leaned into it, eyes flashing and lips curling. 

The fist landed again, this time coming from beneath his chin and snapping his head backwards as his father released his neck, blood spurting out from his mouth as he fell backwards, crashing to the floor. His father reached down and grabbed him by the straps of his armor, lifting his upper half off the ground before shoving him back down again, the impact vibrating through his skull. 

“Oh, is that right?” He asked, teeth bared and nostrils flaring. The defiance had clearly gotten under his skin, and that made this pain all worth it, even as blood trickled down into Hongjoong’s eyes and turned the world red. At least, until his father continued, his expression sick with twisted pleasure. “What if I told you that we found your precious Seonghwa, that his screams were some of the many you heard during the night? And every time you speak to me like that, I inflict more pain upon him?” 

Hongjoong’s heart stopped at the sound of Seonghwa’s name leaving his father’s disgraceful mouth, and his rage completely took over as he lurched upright, shoving his hands into his father’s mouth and trying to rip his jaw off so that he would never be able to speak of Seonghwa again. He gripped at wet teeth and gums and bone, pulling down on his father’s jaw until the man bit his fingers, drawing blood and almost cutting clean through them before Hongjoong had the sense to pull back. 

His pulse pounded in his ears, and his father slapped him viciously across the face, pinning him to the ground no matter how he struggled. “You’re a fucking liar!” Hongjoong screamed, and he didn’t even sound like himself, shrieking like he had gone mad. And maybe he had, for the mere mention of Seonghwa had caused something to snap within him, all restraint vanishing in an instant. “Keep his name out of your fucking mouth, or I swear I’ll-” 

“You’ll do what?” His father interrupted, harsh laughter filling the room as he pressed his hands down against Hongjoong’s chest, making it difficult for him to breathe, much less speak. “You can do nothing. He is a pretty one, you know, and I think I will keep him around for a long, long time. I’ll show him that I am the one who created you, and that you are nothing compared to me. Those cheekbones, and those lips, and those delicate, breakable bones… oh, perhaps I will take my time snapping each one, just as I did to you.” 

Logically, Hongjoong knew that his father was bluffing, that Seonghwa was back on the ship far away from here - he knew that, because if Seonghwa had been screaming the night before, Hongjoong would have recognized the sound of his voice immediately. He was lying, trying to twist Hongjoong’s mind and torture him mentally, and he hated that it was working. Rage had consumed every part of him, and he desperately tried to break free of the pressure on his chest, gasping for air and clawing at his father’s arms. 

His father shifted his grip a moment later, pinning Hongjoong down by the upper arms instead. “I am sure you remember what that felt like, to have each of your fingers snapped every time you refused me? I bet that Seonghwa has no idea of the things you’ve done, the people you’ve killed. He would never love a disgrace of a man like you.”

“You’re wrong,” Hongjoong spat, saliva mixed with blood misting over his father’s face. “He knows, and he still loves me, and you will never know what that feels like. You spent all this time trying to break me, fifteen fucking years, and you failed. I will never submit to you, never again. You could break every last bone, and I would die with defiance still burning in my eyes - you cannot win.” 

Several more punches landed against his face in quick succession, and his eyes threatened to roll back into his skull, hardly able to remain focused on his father’s face anymore. “Shut up,” his father barked, two versions of his face hovering over Hongjoong’s distorted line of sight, both equally depraved. His head felt like it had been completely caved in, and as he moved his tongue around his mouth to check for broken teeth he could feel a piece of his lip threatening to tear off completely. 

“This is only the beginning - I am capable of hurting you in ways that will do far more damage than my fists. I will break you, if it’s the last thing I ever do.” And with that final promise, his father shoved him back against the floor and stormed from the room, the door slamming hard enough to shake the walls. Hongjoong couldn’t move, and he felt like his skull had been smashed to pieces that floated around inside of his head, one gut wrenching jumble of flesh and bone and brain matter. 

Consciousness evaded him for a while, and the pain never relented even when he did manage to blink his eyes open for short durations. He wondered about the extent of the damage, but his father wouldn’t have done enough to kill him, no matter how angry he had been. They were far from finished, and Hongjoong couldn’t stand to think about that, his brain too consumed by pain to do anything at all. 

The following days passed by much the same, with visits from his father that ended in fists flying and blood smearing the floor, but Hongjoong refused to take the beatings in silence. He fought back whenever he could, leaving scratches and bite marks behind, small wounds in comparison to the ones that riddled his own pathetic carcass but still wounds regardless. His younger self would have been proud, and that kept him going, the memory of that scared little boy. Hongjoong was still scared, but he refused to cower anymore, determined to protect himself however he could. 

Though his father tried not to let it show, Hongjoong knew that some of the words he flung at the man struck a nerve, and he allowed his tongue to form insults unrestrained despite the pain he always received in return. It was worth it to see his father falter, visible proof that he had weaknesses, that he wasn’t the impenetrable force Hongjoong had always believed him to be. 

Whenever his father wasn’t around, Hongjoong tried his best to take care of his wounds, though there wasn’t much he could do with no supplies. He used the supply of water his father shoved into his room each day to wash away the blood in an attempt to prevent infection, though without alcohol he couldn’t eliminate the risk. For Seonghwa’s sake, he tried his best to keep them clean, for he knew the doctor would have enough pieces to put back together once the ship came to rescue him. 

He wouldn’t have sustained nearly as many wounds if he chose to be obedient, but he hadn’t given up yet - the fight inside of him still burned bright, and he refused to kneel to his father.

Chapter Text

The door banged open, and Hongjoong raised his head from where he sat slumped against the wall, hardly able to see through his swollen eyes. His father entered his usual indifference, regarding Hongjoong as if he were no more than a decomposing corpse, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the sight of his only son. “Good morning,” Hongjoong greeted sarcastically, the words croaking their way past split lips. “Don’t look so happy to see me.” 

Upper lip curling, his father strode across the room towards where he sat against the wall, reaching for his collar and pulling him to his feet. “Shut your mouth,” he spat, his voice as harsh as the slap that met Hongjoong’s cheek a moment later. His healing wounds protested, and a trickle of saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth, his lips too swollen to remain fully closed. “I have something special for you today - one of your old favorites, if you haven’t blocked it out of your mind.” 

He reached a hand behind his back and pulled something free from his belt, and as he held it in front of Hongjoong’s face, he swallowed thickly as he tried to maintain his composure. A mallet, with a thick handle and a wide steel head, heavier than a hammer and able to inflict more damage. Hongjoong would know, for his fingers had been smashed beneath it several times in the past, and he felt his bones cower in fear at the prospect of facing that kind of pain again. 

Clenching his teeth, Hongjoong nodded once, trying to keep the panic off of his face. He knew he could withstand the pain, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified at the prospect, his fingers already remembering the relentless crush of the mallet head. “Oh, I remember,” he gritted out, refusing to look his father in the eye, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. “I would have expected you to be more original, but I guess that was my mistake.” 

Another slap, though he hardly even felt them anymore, his face consumed by constant pain anyway. “We’ll see how well you maintain that attitude when I’ve shattered a few of your bones,” he responded coldly, and Hongjoong pressed his lips together to keep back a cry of protest, for he refused to resort to begging. It never worked, he had learned that long ago - his father would only beat him harder if he cried. 

“I will fight against you until the day you kill me,” Hongjoong sneered, venom in his voice despite the terror sinking its teeth into his mind. “And even after that, I will haunt you for the rest of your days. You will never forget the things you’ve done to me, to a child. To a baby. Tell me something - what would my mother think of the way you treat me? The son that she nurtured with her own body, the one that she died for. Aren’t you demeaning her loss every time you hurt me?” 

As soon as he spoke the words, he knew that he had gone too far. In all of the years he had spent with his father, he had never asked questions about his mother, only ever knowing the clipped offerings of information given whenever Hongjoong asked why the man hated him so much. His mother had died giving birth to him, and his father had been taking her death out on him ever since, and though he had known for years that it was a raw nerve he had never once possessed the courage to use it against him. 

Not until now, at least. 

In a split second, he found himself shoved against the wall, his head cracking painfully against the hard surface as his father gripped his collar and shoved his own face close enough for their noses to almost touch. “You have no right to speak of her,” he barked, and he tugged Hongjoong forward just to shove him back again, his head spinning upon the impact. “You killed her.” Slam. “You are the reason that she is dead.” Slam. “She wouldn’t have wanted you either.” Slam. 

Hongjoong struggled to remain conscious, and a dazed smile curved his lips, even as he felt warm blood trickle down the back of his neck. “She created me,” he said weakly, his lips trembling as he forced the words out. “Not you - she did. She carried me, and she gave birth to me. I didn’t kill her - she died for me. She died for me, instead of staying alive with you, and I know that weighs on you. And instead of taking care of the baby she left behind, you have made my life hell from the moment I opened my eyes and entered this world. From that point on, all I ever knew was hate, and I still turned out better than you. She would be ashamed of what you’ve done.” 

Rough hands curled around his neck and began to squeeze, shaking him until his head lurched back and forth. “You know nothing! She loved me, not you - and you are the reason that she is dead. You killed her, and you have been a disgrace to my blood ever since. Blood has stained your hands since birth, and yet you still have never been able to follow my orders, to step into your role as my successor. You are weak,” his father hissed, and Hongjoong felt strangely detached from his own consciousness when his father shoved him back against the wall, removing his hands from his neck. 

Gasping for air, Hongjoong couldn’t answer right away, clutching his throat as he waited for the pain to subside enough to speak. “I would rather be weak and loved than ruthless and alone. It has taken me a lifetime to understand that, but now I do. Strength is not found in murder and torture - it is found in courage, in hope, and you have never possessed any of those things. And if my mother loved you, then maybe she would have hated me. Maybe you’re right, because in order to love you, she would have had to be a monster, too. Maybe it’s better that she’s dead.” He glared at his father, cocking his head slightly to the side as he waited for the next blow to land, but to his surprise the man stepped away from him, his movements stiff with unbridled rage. 

They stared at each other in roaring silence for several seconds before his father turned and headed for the door, taking his mallet with him. Hongjoong didn’t budge as he remained against the wall, his head throbbing as he stared at the door even after his father vacated the room, confusion warping his thoughts. He didn’t understand why his father had left, but he had a feeling that this was far from over, and he waited with bated breath until he heard footsteps return. 

The door swung open again, the hinges creaking as they always did, and this time dread settled heavy in Hongjoong’s gut as he stared in horror at the woman in his father’s ruthless grip. No, no, no. He shoved her to the floor, one of the many women he kept around for his own pleasure, and a strangled cry escaped her at the rough impact. Hongjoong surged forward to help her, but his father intercepted him, blocking his path to the woman. “You will regret ever bringing up your mother,” he snarled. “Because now you leave me no choice but to discipline you in other ways.” 

He held up the mallet in his grip, and Hongjoong stared at it in fear, unsure of where this was going. His father couldn’t make him kill this woman - he would die before he became that monster again, and he had a feeling that his father knew it too. Hongjoong hadn’t been giving him the satisfaction that he wanted, and his eyes gleamed under the muted lighting of the room, an evil twist to his features. “Take it.” 

Hongjoong didn’t understand what he meant until the mallet was pressed into his hand, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Take it, and use it on yourself, or else I will kill her.” His father spoke slowly, as if Hongjoong was still five years old being told to kill his first man, and he snapped his head up as he processed the words. 

“Don’t you fucking kill her,” Hongjoong said under his breath, shaking his head as his hands trembled, for he couldn’t stand to watch another innocent person die. “If you kill her, I swear I will not rest until I bring you down.” 

His father had the nerve to laugh at that, and Hongjoong’s grip tensed around the mallet, exhaling quietly through his nose as he prepared himself to move fast. Just when his father attempted to respond, Hongjoong swung the mallet straight for his head, ignoring how his weak muscles screamed in protest. He moved as fast as he could, but even then his father was able to intercept the strike right before it landed, his grip rough as he caught the handle. “What about this game do you not understand? You act out, and I hurt her. Trying to kill me definitely doesn’t bode well for her, either.” 

Letting go of the mallet handle, he turned around and stalked over to the woman, wasting no time in wrapping his hands around her slender, vulnerable throat. A scream froze in her throat, and she stared at Hongjoong with wide, desperate eyes, so similar to all of the others he had killed himself. His frame began to tremble, but he wasted no time on his memories, shoving them aside and gripping the mallet tight in his hands. 

“Stop!” He yelled, and his father looked at him, sadistic joy sinking into the lines of his face. “Stop, I’ll do whatever you want me to. Just please, don’t kill her.” His shoulders slumped when his father released the woman, eye contact never breaking as he remained there on top of her, pinning her to the floor. 

“You will use that mallet, and break one of your bones. I don’t care which one, but you will inflict the pain upon yourself, and you will not make a sound. For every sound that leaves your lips, I will have you break another. Understand?” Hongjoong swallowed around the rapidly forming lump in his throat, nodding even as his vision blurred, desperate to save the woman on the ground. “If you refuse to obey, or give me any of that attitude, or speak a word at all, she dies.” 

Hongjoong nodded again, not trusting himself to open his mouth, for he couldn’t risk her safety. He stared down at the mallet held in his sweaty palms, licking over his bottom lip to moisten the skin, eyes fluttering closed as he forced himself to shove aside his fear. Pain had been the one constant in his life, and he could handle a lot more of it, he knew he could. Even if it was inflicted by his own hand, at least he could choose which bone to break. 

He knew he didn’t have much time to think, and his initial thought was to go for one of his hands, before his mind screeched to a halt. Staring down at his trembling hands clenched around the handle of the mallet, he remembered all of the things he had touched in an attempt to remember what they felt like. His own features shaped into a smile, the feeling of Seonghwa’s cheek under his palm, their fingers intertwined as they sat out on the deck. If he broke one of his hands, he could risk permanent damage, and the thought of never being able to cup both of his hands around Seonghwa’s face again was more devastating than the pain he was about to face. He couldn’t do it - not to one of his hands. 

Instead, he looked down at his feet, saliva catching in his throat as he tried to swallow. His ankles had both been broken several times, and he decided to choose the left one, for the joint had always given him trouble anyway. Sinking down to the floor, he extended the leg out in front of him, feeling two sets of eyes following his every movement as his father and the woman watched him. 

His heart stuttered in his chest, and he forced himself to exhale slowly, trying to quell his panic. He couldn’t afford to lose himself now, not when the woman’s life was on the line, and he tightened his grip around the mallet. Keeping both hands in place to provide some added strength, he held it over his ankle, arms trembling and eyes stinging. “Time is ticking,” his father taunted, and he slapped the woman beneath him for good measure, her sharp cry piercing through Hongjoong’s brain. 

He sucked in a breath before squeezing his eyes shut and bringing down the mallet with all of the strength he had left, unable to watch the impact. A sickening thud followed, and pain flared all along his leg, traveling down to his toes and up to his femur. His teeth sunk into his lip as he barely managed to keep a scream at bay, his eyes watering as they opened and his chest heaving erratically, blood spreading over his tongue. 

The mallet had landed directly where he had intended, only the bone wasn’t broken - he could tell, and so could his father, for there had been no sound of crunching bone. “Not strong enough,” his father said with a shake of his head. “Better do it again.” 

A tear traced a path over the slope of Hongjoong’s cheek, but he kept his mouth closed as he lifted the mallet for a second time, his entire body shaking. This time he kept his eyes open as he brought it down, and the pain was so strong that he dry heaved onto the floor, his stomach too empty to produce anything but stringy bile. Still the bone refused to break, and Hongjoong’s head was spinning dangerously, his upper body swaying as he tried his best to remain sitting upright. “Again,” his father barked, and so he obeyed. 

He raised the mallet up and brought it down once, and then again, brutalizing his own body until he finally heard the snap of bone and felt the blinding pain that came along with it. The mallet fell from his fingers and he collapsed to the side, curling into himself and barely managing to keep his whimpers from escaping, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. 

“Couldn’t even break your own bone correctly - what a shame. If I had done it for you, it would have given way with one strike,” his father gloated, and Hongjoong didn’t even care, too spent to even raise his head. The man stared at him for a long moment, taking in his collapsed form before he looked back down at the woman beneath him, pinned to the floor by his weight. Trails of moisture on her cheeks caught in the light, and she was still staring at Hongjoong, horror and guilt frozen on her face. 

He tried to smile at her, though he couldn’t feel his face enough to tell if he succeeded or not, completely delirious due to the pain. “It’s alright,” he comforted, for he didn’t want her to bear this guilt. His father had done this, not her. “I’ll be okay.” She stared back at him, and a fresh tear trickled down her cheek. She was still staring at him when his father plunged a knife down into her neck, blood spurting from the wound and splattering over the floor, just like the neck wound Hongjoong had inflicted upon the pirate at five years old. 

A scream tore from his throat as he scrambled forward, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he reached for her, his rage blinding as he shoved his father aside and hovered trembling fingers over her neck. She stared up at him with panic in her eyes, her breaths wet and lurching as blood filled her throat. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he assured frantically, finally tearing off his ridiculous armor and pulling his shirt over his head as well, bunching it around the blade as well as he could even though he knew in the back of his mind that the efforts were useless. She was going to die, even though Hongjoong had broken his own ankle to save her, and he pressed his lips together to muffle his sobs as he brushed the hair out of her eyes. 

“I’m s-sorry,” she tried to say, though she choked on the blood in her mouth and coughed, splattering it all over Hongjoong’s face as he hovered over her.

He shushed her gently, carding his hand through her hair and trying his best to keep her comfortable despite the knife jutting from her throat. “You did nothing wrong. Sometimes angels are simply too good to live long on an earth this wretched. You will grow wings, and you will fly to a place better than this, I promise. Do not be afraid.” Already he could see the life leaving her eyes, and he pressed a feather light kiss to her temple, a tear of his own dripping down onto her skin. By the time he pulled back, she was gone, and he clenched his jaw as he unsteadily got back to his feet, whirling on the man who had done this. 

“You killed her,” he uttered, his voice detached and stony as he faced his father, ignoring the pain in his ankle as disgust weighed down his bones. “You killed her, after you said that I could save her by doing this to myself. You are a monster.” He was vibrating with rage, and he couldn’t feel a thing as he staggered forward, his ankle refusing to bear his weight. 

His father just shook his head, eyes gleaming. “No, you are. I told you that if you made a single sound, she would die. And you spoke to her of your own free will - by doing that, you killed her, not me.” Anger roared in Hongjoong’s ears, and he threw himself at his father, clawing at his face before the man could defend himself and leaving four thick marks along his cheek with jagged nails. He was shoved to the floor a moment later, but instantly he was scrambling back to his feet, driven by an anger he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

“Fuck you!” He shrieked, throwing himself forward again, barely managing to avoid the strike his father directed towards his face. “You did this to me! You have ruined my life, and you have made me kill so many times, and I am going to destroy you if it is the last thing I do. I want myself back - I want back all the things you have taken from me for my entire life. I want my childhood back, you fucker! It’s mine, not yours!” He would have screamed until his voice gave away, but a swift kick landed against his cheek and sent him sprawling to the ground, right beside the body of the woman who had died because of him. 

All of the air was knocked from his lungs, and he desperately tried to breathe as he began to shift back to his feet yet again, only to watch his father disappear through the door and click the lock. He still lunged forward, this time slamming his body into the door again and again, screaming loud enough to be heard outside of this tiny room. “Give it back! Give it back, you asshole! I want it back!” He pounded his fists against the door, and when his ankle couldn’t take the pain anymore he dissolved to the ground, shrieks mingling with sobs until he wasn’t sure what to call them anymore. 

“Give it back… I want it back,” he sobbed, covering his face with his hands as his stomach lurched with each cry, using up all of the energy he had left. “I want my childhood back. I can’t live like this anymore, I can’t, I c-can’t.” But he couldn’t ever have it back, and he cried for hours for the person he had never been able to become, for all of the lives he had taken, the blood that stained his five year old hands. Another life lost, and he could have prevented it if he had only kept his mouth shut. He had been so desperate to comfort her that he had sealed her fate, and he gagged on the force of his sobs, for her death had been his fault.

After all this time, he was supposed to be better. He should have kept his mouth shut, should have remembered, but he had been so dazed that he had seen her hurting and done what he could to help her feel better. And now she was dead. 

He peered at her lifeless body through his tears, and he dragged himself closer even as his heart tore to pieces, crying loudly as he came to a stop right beside her. “I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, voice cracking over the words as he stared down at her face, frozen in fear even now. “I did this to you, and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry-” A violent sob cut off his apologies, and more of his tears splattered down onto her cheeks, running over the sides of her face as if she was still crying even in death. 

Raising a trembling hand, he gently closed her eyes, unable to stare at them any longer. Blood had spread all over the floor, but Hongjoong didn’t care as it seeped into his pants, guttural cries wracking his frame as he hunched over with his head in his hands. He cried until he couldn’t anymore, and then he just sat there, staring at her as the tips of his fingers grew cold and his lips turned purple. 

Unconsciously, he began to hum one of the songs he had heard Seonghwa sing before, a melancholy melody that he had memorized on purpose to sing to himself while trapped in this hell. Only now, he hummed it for her, hoping that the music would help to guide her up to the heavens where her soul belonged. He traced his fingers in her blood, completely out of his mind with pain and grief, writing Seonghwa’s name before he even realized what he was doing. 

What a terrible monument to his devotion, the name of the man he loved drawn into the congealing blood of an innocent woman. He wiped his hand over it, disgusted at himself, running blood soaked fingers over his face as he tried to remember how to breathe. In a matter of hours, he had crumbled completely, and he couldn’t stand to be in his own skin. He scratched at himself, but the pain wasn’t enough - it would never be enough until he was dead just like she was. 

Memories of that final night with Seonghwa on the deck suddenly came over him, like his mind’s last ditch effort to talk him away from the edge. His eyes stung as he shook his head, heart clenching as he heard the familiar voice in his mind, the one he wanted to hear again so badly. “Your father abused you for your entire childhood, and even when he made you think that you were choosing to kill those people, the choice was never truly yours.”

“I believe you. I will always believe you.” 

He reminded himself of the words again and again, the sun setting and casting his room in darkness as he continued to sit there, eventually reaching for the stiff hand of the dead woman and holding it tight within his own. The guilt never seemed to let him go, but with Seonghwa’s voice in his mind he was able to regain some control over his body, sniffling and wiping beneath his eyes. Her skin was cold, but so was his, and he couldn’t even provide her with warmth in death. Shivers spread all along his skin, and he let go of her hand eventually when it all became too much, desperate to focus on something else. 

Instead, he stuck his leg out in front of him again and stared down at his ankle, already swollen and covered in rapidly purpling bruises. From what he could tell, the bone hadn’t shifted out of place at least, though the swelling made it difficult for him to be sure. He prodded the pads of his fingers against the joint, wincing at the pain that spread along his abused skin at even just the slightest bit of contact. 

There wasn’t much else he could do to help it heal, and so he eventually just laid down against the hard floor, in too much agony to close his eyes. He hoped that Seonghwa had found the letter by now, and that he was on the way, because he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Though his injuries weren’t fatal, he still knew he was dying from the inside, his heart shriveling further with each passing day until eventually nothing would remain but dust. 

He didn’t sleep for days after that, haunted by the body in his room even after it had been dragged away. 

~

Sitting against the wall by the door, Hongjoong caught wind of something important one night, the days blurring together. Muffled voices always came and went, and though he often listened just to pass the time, he rarely discovered anything interesting. But this time, he could hear the tension present in the conversation, and he straightened as he recognized one of the voices as his father’s. 

He half expected the man to come bursting through his door, but that didn’t happen, and he shifted closer to the door in order to hear them more clearly. “-on their way, and we aren’t prepared,” his father seethed, clearly stressed about something. “That order wasn’t verified, but they never come here - it shouldn’t have mattered. As long as we can develop a foolproof explanation, they won’t bat an eye. There are more important things for our superiors to worry about.” 

Hongjoong’s jaw fell open, and he felt like he had just struck gold, his mind already running wild with the things he was hearing. “But, sir,” came the second voice, his nerves audible through the door, “I’m afraid that we don’t have a foolproof reason. They think your son is dead, and now they’re coming here, exactly where you are keeping him. Forgive me if I am overstepping, but should you not just kill him? If they discover that he is here, they will piece together the reason for the order.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” His father snapped, and Hongjoong flinched at the sudden increase in volume. “Do not question my plans for my son - it is none of your business. They will not discover that he is here, so none of that will matter. I am in charge of this base for a reason, and I will handle this as I see fit.” He stormed away after that, his footsteps slowly fading out of earshot, and Hongjoong’s mind reeled as he stared into the darkness of his room. 

His father’s superiors were coming to this base - the men who had appointed him to his role, the ones who presided at the top of the naval hierarchy. This could be his chance, to expose his father for all of the terrible things he had done, to finally get retribution for all of the people he had hurt and killed for years without punishment. If he could do this one thing to ensure that no one else would be hurt by his father’s hand, then he would never have to worry again. He wouldn’t have to live in fear of this abuse anymore, because his abuser would be behind bars. 

Hope swelled in his chest for the first time in a while, and he clung to it, crawling across the room to the window with his broken ankle dragging behind him, stopping once he was in a position to stare up at the stars. He found Polaris again, and he could almost feel Seonghwa looking back at him, ethereal beneath the moonlight. Even now, they lived beneath the same sky of stars, Hongjoong battered and covered in bruises, trapped in this small room while Seonghwa searched the seas to save him. It reminded him of one of his legends, and a trembling smile touched his lips, for he felt closer to a happy ending tonight than he had since the trip to the capital. 

He hoped that fate would be on his side this time, and that he would see familiar sails on the horizon while his father’s superiors were here. That way, he could escape this room and expose him before leaving through the tunnel just as he had intended, with no possibility of his father ever coming to hunt him down again. Nothing had ever worked out so well for him before, and he should have given up on hoping a long time ago, but every time he thought of his crew the flame inside of his chest flickered just the tiniest bit brighter. 

They were coming - he could feel it. He had withstood all of this pain for them, and they would come to save him, to take care of him and provide him with all of the comfort he had yearned for during his time in isolation. Once he was back with them, he would be able to break down, to let down his walls and trust them all to keep his broken pieces safe. There would be no need to be strong anymore, and he was so desperate to survive until then, to die many years from now with smile lines creasing his face, surrounded by the ones he loved. 

He couldn’t die now - his story wasn’t over. 

When his father entered his room the following day, Hongjoong could tell that he was stressed. His fingers fidgeted at his sides as he stepped in from the hallway, his jaw tense and his eyes vicious, desperate to cause pain in order to distract himself from the information Hongjoong had overheard the night before. He was vulnerable to taunts like this, and Hongjoong smiled to himself, determined to make his father’s life even more difficult than it had already become. 

“You look worried,” he remarked, tone dripping with false sympathy as his lips twisted into a mocking grin. The movement sent aches along the skin of his face, but it was worth the pain to see his father so affected by his words, fists clenching and nostrils flaring. “What about all your talk of weakness? Looking at you now, it’s obvious that you are bothered by something, that your mind isn’t the impenetrable fortress you want it to be. Quite pathetic, if you ask me.” Hongjoong bared his teeth, and his father slammed the door shut behind him, the sound exploding through the walls and sending Hongjoong reeling back in fear. 

“Every time you hear a loud noise, you flinch away. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that - even after years away from me, you have never truly been able to escape. That is pathetic.” He began to walk across the room towards Hongjoong, who sat over by the window, and he raised his voice until he was shouting. “All I need to do is raise my voice in order to make you cower. I have complete power over you, and your weak attempts at defiance accomplish nothing towards changing that.” 

Hongjoong shuffled back until he couldn’t go any further, his spine pressed painfully against the wall of this stone fortress. He hated the fear that choked his throat, making it difficult to breathe as his father approached. The steel toe of his boot drove directly into Hongjoong’s ribs, and he collapsed against the floor, pain flaring all throughout his abdomen as his father kicked again and again, abusing his bones. Hongjoong heard several of his ribs crack, and he curled in on himself in an attempt to prevent the bones from shattering completely, but his father just redirected the kicks to land against his back instead. 

The sound of his father’s harsh breathing filled the room along with the dull thud every time his boot connected with Hongjoong’s body, again and again until he finally stopped. Hongjoong was hiding his face in his hands, his entire body shaking in agony, and he didn’t realize at first that the assault had stopped. The pain obscured everything else, his torso throbbing as he finally peeked out through the gaps between his fingers, eyes glossy and vision blurred. 

Still looming over him, his father sneered as their eyes met, his face shadowed and cruel. His chest rose and fell visibly as he regained his breath after beating up his son, and he admired his handiwork with a dark grin, rendering Hongjoong back to the mindset of a child with that one look. “I am finished with your behavior. You have been allowed to get away with too much, and I refuse to engage in such useless exchanges with you. Perhaps you still doubt my ruthlessness, or you believe that your newfound ability to love will save you, but it won’t.” 

Hongjoong watched as his father reached a hand down into his belt, and dread sank like an anchor in his stomach when the man pulled free a short, wicked blade. Hardly longer than his finger, the sharp edge gleamed under the dull lighting of the room, and his intentions were clear by expression alone. Entire body tensing, Hongjoong desperately tried to scramble back against the wall, though there was nowhere else for him to go. His father towered over him like a murderous monster, eyes sinful and claws bared to draw blood. 

“You’ve been speaking like you have become something greater than I am, like I should be the one who fears you, and now you will learn that you have always been beneath me. Now you will learn that I am capable of horrors your nightmares can’t even procure. I am sick of the insolence, and if this is what it takes to beat that out of you, then just know that you’ve brought this upon yourself.” He twisted the knife in his hand as if he were imagining it already embedded in Hongjoong’s flesh, like he was picturing the pain he would cause by rotating the blade and shredding his insides. 

He reached down a hand to pull Hongjoong back to his feet, but at the sight of the knife Hongjoong’s mind had begun to run wild, panic reverberating against the walls of his skull as he lunged past his father, towards the middle of the room. Managing to take the man by surprise, he scrambled to his feet and ran for the door, though his ankle collapsed beneath him before he could make it very far. Breaths wheezed from his lungs, and he glanced over his shoulder to find his father stalking towards him with murderous intent, his heart leaping into his throat. 

Hongjoong didn’t possess any weapons here - he had nothing, no way to defend himself against the blade that would cleave through his skin with minimal resistance as soon as his father had him trapped. Mind spinning frantically, Hongjoong scrambled back against the floor, sweeping his eyes over the room as he cowered under his father’s gaze. Only the mattress sat in the corner by the window, and Hongjoong couldn’t do anything with that. His measly supply of ill-fitting clothes were stacked against the far wall as well, but his father had never allowed him to possess anything that could be used in violence. 

Pressing his back against the door, Hongjoong tried and failed to swallow, terrified that his father intended to finally just kill him. He would have welcomed it in the past, but now he had too much to live for - he didn’t want to die. His friends were coming, he could feel it, and he needed to see them again. He needed to hear their laughter, and hold them in his arms, and wipe their tears. Terrified as he was, the thought of them filled him with determination, and his elbow bumped against something hard just as his father was baring his fangs and pulling his knife back in preparation to strike. 

Hongjoong glanced down towards the floor, and he grabbed for the bucket of water he had just bumped into, the meager rations his father had shoved into his room. Gripping the cold metal, he flung the bucket forward, not letting go of the object itself but splashing what water remained inside all over his assailant. Using the momentary distraction to his advantage, Hongjoong crawled away from the door, gritting his teeth against the pain in his ankle as he headed for the back of the room again. 

He kept his fingers clenched tight around the handle of the bucket, and though he had no real means of escape, he still tried desperately to get away from his father. His mind was screaming at him to hide, to cower, but he couldn’t go anywhere - even if he had been able to get the door open, he would never make it far with his ankle in this condition. Every move he made irritated the joint further, and he felt an icy hand close around the swollen part of his leg, a guttural scream escaping as bone scraped against bone. 

Refusing to relinquish his grip, Hongjoong’s father pulled him closer by the ankle, and his vision went black for a moment as the pain crashed over him like a tidal wave of boiling water. His stomach scraped against the unforgiving ground, and as soon as his father’s hold relented he forced himself to turn around despite the pain it caused, raising the bucket just in time to deflect the incoming blade. Demonic eyes hung over him, and he fought against his instinct to freeze in fear, unwilling to die like this. 

Even if fate had always intended for him to die by his father’s hand, he rebelled against it now, rejecting the tragic story he had lived since birth. For once, he wanted to live, and he would see to the next sunrise no matter what he had to do. He was so exhausted, his body struggling to function after all of the abuse, and he pulled on the last of his energy as his father dropped to his knees, straddling Hongjoong’s waist and pinning his chest to the floor with his free hand. 

“You think you can defend yourself against me with a bucket?” He roared a laugh, and Hongjoong clenched his jaw, forcing his breathing to remain steady as he tightened his grip on the handle. If his father still underestimated him, then he would use that to his advantage. Feigning a look of fear, Hongjoong tried weakly to escape the hold, though he didn’t put any real effort into the attempt. His father leered down at him, the knife clenched in his grip but not yet poised to strike. 

Hongjoong moved his lips soundlessly, letting a little bit of air escape as he coughed lightly, as if struggling to speak. And just as he had intended, his father leaned closer, an evil grin spreading over his lips as he waited for Hongjoong to say the next defiant thing to seal his fate. Making a show of attempting to swallow, Hongjoong prepared himself to raise the bucket, staring directly into his father’s eyes. “Look out,” he said innocently, smashing the bucket down onto his father’s head until it covered his eyes and taking advantage of his momentary surprise to shove his weight to the side. 

Slithering out of the man’s grasp, Hongjoong dragged himself towards the mattress, unable to even crawl anymore. He considered trying to steal the knife, but he knew he would never succeed - his father was far stronger than he was physically, and he just needed to get away. Reaching out for the mattress, he dug his fingers into the material, thankful that children’s mattresses weren’t very heavy. He raised it up from the floor and just barely managed to pull it in front of himself before his father stabbed the knife straight through, the point emerging through the other side just a hair’s distance away from Hongjoong’s nose. 

Panic welled in his chest, and the tip of the knife disappeared only to reemerge again and again, his father stabbing into the mattress with unrestrained rage, tearing it to shreds. “There is nowhere for you to go! You are achieving nothing by doing this, and you will only suffer more because of it,” he snarled, and he eventually just tore the mattress out of Hongjoong’s hand, chest heaving and eyes wild. “You cannot hide from me.” 

He raised the knife again, and Hongjoong backed against the wall, but there was nowhere else for him to go when he couldn’t even stand. Still he tried, raising his hands and clawing at his father’s exposed skin as the man pushed closer, but his arms were knocked away easily. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to fight, tried to do something to escape, but he was powerless. He was too weak, too in pain to do anything but remain pinned in place by his father’s glare as it burned over his skin. 

As the knife came closer, Hongjoong tried to protect his chest, but his father didn’t aim for his heart as he had expected. He didn’t aim for the stomach, or the neck, or anywhere else that would have proven easily fatal - instead, he aimed for the face. The knife cleaved through the air and sliced through skin with hardly any resistance, scraping against his brow and cheekbone, blood exploding from the wound in an instant. 

Hongjoong screamed, raising his hands up to touch his face as the blade fell away, as if he could hold his skin back together. He couldn’t tell how long or deep the wound was, for he couldn’t feel anything but pain, and he collapsed to the side as blood spurted all over his hands, hot and sticky. Dimly he registered his father’s laughter, but all he could focus on was the agony, the damage that had been done to his face. 

His father had chosen his face - he had never intended to kill, only to maim, to destroy the features so similar to his own. Even if Hongjoong did manage to escape, he would never look the same. He would wear the evidence of his father’s torture for the rest of his life, and his stomach turned as cries continued to fall from his lips, unable to control his expression as one half of his face suffered. 

As his fingers dared to brush over the wound, he could tell that the slice had started above his left eyebrow and extended all the way down to his chin, long and deep and horribly gruesome. He began to panic when he realized that he couldn’t see - he had squeezed his right eye shut as well in response to the pain, but now that he tried to open them both he could only see from one. His sight was gone, and his face was pouring blood, and he could already feel himself descending into shock. 

Rough fingers gripped at his wrists and pulled them away from his face, and Hongjoong thrashed as his father held him down again, blood flowing into his mouth and filling his damaged eye socket, dripping into his intact eye to obscure his vision. He choked on his own blood, vomit bubbling from his lips as he turned his head to the side, letting it run out of his mouth. “I never intended to kill you,” his father explained, though Hongjoong could hardly hear him over the ringing in his ears. “I want you to always remember your place. And now, every time you try to open your eyes, you will think of me. I own you.” 

Hongjoong screamed at him like a wounded animal, struggling to speak as his tongue flopped around in his mouth. The part of the slash over his cheek had been deep enough to cut through to his mouth, and he could feel cold air on his tongue, more bile surging up from his throat. He coughed and spluttered, looking up at his father through one teary eye, his entire face painted crimson. “I h-hate… you,” he croaked, the words strangled and cracking, for he refused to back down even now. After this, Hongjoong would never be the same, but his hatred for his father had always been a constant in his life. 

Rage burned within his father’s eyes like flaming balls of hell, and he let go of Hongjoong’s arms in one swift movement, reaching for his face instead. Consumed by terror, Hongjoong tried to get away, but he could hardly move as his head swam due to blood loss. Calloused fingers reached for his damaged eye, and Hongjoong’s stomach twisted painfully as his father’s thumb dug into the socket, rough and invasive and agonizing. 

His screams were deafening even to his own ears, his throat scraped raw as he squirmed, but he couldn’t escape as his father violated him more completely than he ever had before. He dug his nails into the flesh of the socket, digging the destroyed eye out of his head, and Hongjoong had never known pain like this before. After all of the wounds he had sustained in his life, he had never felt more utterly destroyed, his right to his own sight taken from him as the eyeball popped from the socket with a sickening sound. 

His father pulled his hands away, wiping the blood against Hongjoong’s pants as he got to his feet, staring down at his son while he convulsed in pain. Hongjoong’s entire body jolted and seized as he reached up to cover his face again, only to feel something warm and wet hanging down against his cheek, no longer globular like it should have been. His eye was still connected to the socket - it was just hanging, drenched in blood and deflated from the knife strike. 

Blood spurted from Hongjoong’s mouth as he gagged, trembling violently now that he could feel his eye swinging, resting against the open gash along his cheek. For once, he was grateful that he didn’t possess a mirror, for he knew in that moment that he never wanted to look at himself again. He never wanted anyone to look at him again, and he continued to cry out in pain, unable to pull himself out of the agony. 

Footsteps impacted the floor as his father just left him there after watching for a while, the door slamming closed and leaving him alone all over again, though this time Hongjoong was grateful for it. He didn’t want to be seen, and all he could do was lie there in the fetal position, knees hugged to his chest and face consumed by fire, every tear that rolled against his wound causing the pain to flare. 

And still his eye hung there, unseeing but still attached. Hongjoong couldn’t bring himself to touch it for a long time, and when he finally did he dissolved into vomiting all over again, for the eye was slimy and slick with blood and so horrifying that he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have a knife of his own to cut it free with, and he gagged every time he touched it, but he knew that no one else was there to take care of this wound for him. If he didn’t tend to it soon, he would wind up with an infection, and the pain would only cease in death. 

If he wanted to see his friends again, he needed to do everything in his power to treat his own wound, and a desperate sob tore from his throat as he shook his head, tears splattering down to the floor. How could he ever face them again like this? He would never look the same - he would look terrifying, and his heart broke as he imagined how the sight of his face would horrify his crew. All this time he had planned to downplay the severity of the damage his father had caused, but he couldn’t hide the truth if his face was cleaved clean in two. They would look at him and think of his father every time they saw the wound, even after it healed, and Hongjoong wished that he could rip off the rest of his face too, for then at least the damage would have been done by his own hands. 

His stomach ached with the force of his cries as he pictured Seonghwa in his mind, beautiful as always, a soft curve to his lips and a sparkle twinkling in his eyes. Hongjoong had never deserved him to begin with, but now he was nothing more than a broken and fractured creature of hell itself, scarred and bloody and unworthy of someone so divine. He would never be able to look at Seonghwa with his full scope of vision ever again, and the thought wounded him deeper than his father’s knife. 

He would never be able to see so many of the stars glimmering above at once, or see all of his crew in front of him. Not to mention all of the other effects this would have on his ability to fight, or aim a gun, or navigate his ship… his father had taken his sight, the one thing he had wished not to lose. One of his eyes was destroyed, and now he was left with the task of removing it with nothing but his bare hands. 

Sniffling wetly, Hongjoong reached up to touch the eye again, swallowing down bile as he felt along the damaged nerve that hung from within his socket. He would need to remove it at the base in order to prevent the string from still hanging, and his fingers trembled uncontrollably as he prodded them into his empty socket, the pain flaring all over again. The pain was unbearable, and he didn’t know how to do this by himself - although he wished for no one to see him like this, he still wanted to be comforted, to be taken care of. He wished that Seonghwa’s gentle hands were the ones poking around the gash instead of his own fumbling ones, because he didn’t have the slightest idea what to do. 

Hongjoong was in pain, and he was scared, and he just wanted someone to tell him that it would be alright. He just wanted someone to hold him, to take this responsibility out of his hands and finally let him rest. But no one else was here, and he had to do this on his own. He had no other choice. 

Pressing his trembling lips together, he thought of Seonghwa. He had tried to take care of his wounds all this time so that Seonghwa would be proud of him, and he tried to think of it that way as he touched the nerve string connected to the back of his eye socket, slimy and damaged from his father’s abrasive fingers. Though he had no idea what he was doing, he still had to try. For Seonghwa’s sake, he would try. 

Blood made his fingers slip as he tried to grasp the nerve, and the pain was so severe that he gasped, unable to intake any breath, the vision of his good eye going blurry. Still lying against the floor, he braced his elbow against the ground, using it for leverage as he prepared himself to yank on the nerve. He didn’t know what to expect as far as pain, but he knew it wouldn’t be pleasant, and his teeth began to chatter as he pulled. 

He pulled with all of the strength he had left, and the nerve severed with a sickening snap, the eye bouncing to the ground and rolling away as he screamed in agony, clutching his face as blood seeped from the wound still. His entire face went up in flames, and he rocked against the ground as he tore at his clothes and skin, desperate to get away from the pain but unable to do so. 

Relief was impossible when he possessed nothing, and the agony seemed to go on for hours. He had no means of stitching the wound, or bandaging it, or doing anything to hold it closed, and he had thrown what little water he had left at his father. Perhaps Seonghwa would have been able to think of some other way to cover the wound, to keep it clean, but Hongjoong’s thoughts were too addled by shock to think of anything other than his own misery. 

The wound was gaping, and the blood never stopped flowing, slowing to a trickle until Hongjoong accidentally moved his face and ripped it open again. He could do nothing but lie there, unable to move as his muscles trembled with fatigue, and he stared at the window from his spot on the floor and begged the gods above to send him some kind of relief soon. 

Whether it be rescue or death, he couldn’t stand to live like this anymore. 

~

His prayers were answered a short time later, though Hongjoong was too dazed to know exactly how long it had been, drifting in and out of consciousness. He could see through the window from where he lay, and he opened his eyes eventually to find that the sun was on its steady decline, afternoon beginning to turn into evening. Blinking his one remaining eye blearily, he tried to ignore the throbbing along the left side of his face as he stared at the horizon, the water twinkling under the sinking sun. 

Normally these waters were empty, for his room was located on the back side of the base, and he furrowed his brows as he saw a blip of color against the waves. He was only able to see the water because of the low height of the window, and he dragged himself forward, his ankle trailing uselessly behind. Squinting his eye, he had to blink away the fog clouding his vision a few times before he understood what he was looking at, his heart coming to a sudden stop in his chest. 

Sails. Familiar ones - the ones he had patched together himself with Mingi and Wooyoung a few years back, when their old ones had taken on too much damage in battle. He knew the sails were his, because he could make out the patchworked colors, and his thoughts were further confirmed by the familiar shape of the ship down on the water. They were here to save him - Seonghwa had found his letter, and they had sailed all the way here, just for him. 

Hongjoong had always known that they loved him, and even when his father had tried to make him forget it, he had stared down at Wooyoung’s note and forced himself to remember. They loved him, and they had come to save him, and he would find a way to get down to that tunnel even if his father had taken both of his legs. For them, he would do anything, and he finally understood for the first time in his life that they would do anything for him, too. That was love, after all. 

A hot tear trickled over his unwounded cheek, and his lips quivered as he stared at the ship, blinking continuously just to convince himself that it was actually there. All he needed to do was survive the next few hours, and he would finally see them again. He would be able to fall into their arms and finally just break, because he trusted them to keep him safe. A watery smile broke over his lips, and his heart soared even with wings fractured and bleeding, desperate to fly back home.

He hoped that his father’s superiors had already arrived, because this was his only chance to save the people still in his clutches, and to avenge the ones who had already been lost. His thoughts flitted to the woman who had died in this very room, and grief hung heavy over his heart like a storm cloud, filling his entire body with ice cold rain. For her sake, he would expose his father, removing the risk of anyone dying by his hand ever again. For the sake of the pirate Hongjoong had killed as a boy, who had only ever wished to return to the sea. For the sake of the prostitute Hongjoong had failed to save, and the daughter she had left behind. 

For his own sake, because he had been a victim just as much as they had been. 

Hongjoong crawled his way over to the pathetic stack of clothes against the wall, most of them still here from when he had been a teenager, but he managed to find a shirt that fit and carefully pulled it over his head. He had been shirtless ever since he had tried to stop the bleeding from the woman’s neck wound, but he didn’t want to return to his friends like that - he wanted to hide as many of the bruises as he could, though he knew they would find them anyway. 

His pants were covered in blood, but he didn’t bother to change those, checking that Wooyoung’s note was still in his pocket. A new bucket of water had been shoved into his room after his last interaction with his father, for it appeared that the man still didn’t want him dead. He would regret that shortly, and Hongjoong smiled to himself as he made his way over to the bucket, pleased to have been underestimated. 

First he tried to clean his hands as best as he could before soaking a spare shirt in the water, using it to clean his face just enough so that his resemblance to his father would be clear. Even with the gaping wound and the swelling, it would have to be enough - he refused to think otherwise. He would succeed, and he would be back with his crew in a few hours, and all of this would finally be over. They would be free to sail the seas and go wherever they wanted, and Hongjoong would be able to show Seonghwa all of the beautiful parts of the world he had never seen. 

Maybe life after this would be so wonderful that they would forget how terrible the beginning was for them both. From this point on, they would be happy, and maybe the happiness would dull the cruelty they had been forced to endure beforehand. Wounded hearts learned to appreciate love the most, and he would never take that love for granted, even after all of his scars had healed. 

With the thought of his crew in mind, Hongjoong picked the lock of his door using the small pin he had stashed away against the glass of the window long ago, pleased to find that it was still there. He pushed it open as slowly as possible, but it still creaked, and he winced at the sound as his heart thundered against his ribs. No one else was in the hallway, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he used the doorknob to pull himself to his feet, biting his lower lip as he tried to place weight on his broken ankle.

Tears stung at his eye, but he refused to collapse back down to the floor, forcing himself to function through the pain. He staggered his way down the hallway after shutting the door to his room, using the wall for support as he retraced his route by memory, still familiar with these halls after years away. The stairs presented a challenge whenever he encountered them, but he refused to relent even as flames of pain licked up his leg, taking each step one at a time until he reached the bottom. 

He mentally thanked his father for locking him away in the back of the base, for no one frequented these halls, and he didn’t run into a single person on his way down to his father’s meeting rooms. If the men in charge of the entire navy had arrived, that was where they would be, and Hongjoong tried to keep his approach quiet as he stepped down onto the correct floor and staggered towards the rooms. 

Voices carried through the walls even from down the hall, and Hongjoong’s heart began to thump more rapidly against his cracked ribs, anticipation building in his veins as his gaze landed upon a man standing guard outside of one of the rooms. Only one soldier, a gun slung over his back and blades stashed in his belt, and he glanced up at Hongjoong as he approached. “Meeting in progress,” he began to say, but he lost his voice as he took in the gaping slash covering Hongjoong’s face, the filth and blood clinging to his skin. He opened his mouth to speak again as he crossed the distance between them, already reaching for his gun, but Hongjoong never gave him the chance. 

Sending a sharp elbow directly into the man’s throat, Hongjoong reached for one of the knives along his belt as a choked groan came from the soldier. Stealing the first blade his fingers touched, Hongjoong stabbed it into the meat of the man’s shoulder, a grunt escaping his own lips at the strain that pulled along his battered ribs. The man collapsed instantly, blood soaking the floor as he tried to tend to the wound, and Hongjoong didn’t spare him another glance as he headed for the door. He would live. Probably. 

Bracing his hand against the cold doorknob, Hongjoong inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air before twisting and pushing the door open. He stood on the threshold and stared into the room, pulse quickening as soon as his eye landed on his father, darting away as he observed the other men in the room. They were all dressed in various flashy uniforms, clearly men of importance, and Hongjoong knew then that he had succeeded, even before anyone spoke a single word. These were the superiors that his father was so afraid of, and now there would be no explaining away the truth of what his father had done to abuse his power. 

His father instantly rose to his feet, expression murderous as he stared back at his son, but for once in his life Hongjoong refused to flinch away. Finally he held the upper hand, and he intended to use it to his advantage. He stood there in the doorway and allowed every person in the room to take in the sight of him, from the cavern of blood and gore cleaving through his face to the dead weight of his ankle, the dried blood all over his skin and the emaciated shadows that hung beneath jutting bone. 

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, until his father’s voice thundered through the room. “This is a closed meeting, you have no place here,” he ordered, though Hongjoong could tell he was stunned by his presence, unsure of how he would cover for himself now that a beaten boy who wore his same features had intruded upon his precious meeting. “Gentlemen, please, pay him no mind. A prisoner, from the dungeons, I assure you that he will be escorted right back-” 

“Look at me,” Hongjoong said flatly, though the dozen pairs of eyes in the room were already doing just that, not sparing his father a glance. “Look at my face. That man is my father, and he is the one who did this to me.” He felt strangely detached from the words, speaking of his own dreadful life as if it were nothing more than a story, like it had all happened to someone else. “Look at my face and tell me that I do not bear his resemblance. You cannot, because I am his son. He has silenced me all this time, and I assume that he told you all I had died, but I assure you I am very much alive. Though not free of damage, all inflicted by his hand.” 

He kept his head level as he stared back at his father, voice refusing to waver, standing tall despite the pain that flared in his leg. “He’s lying!” His father denied, though he was clearly frantic, none of that stony cruelty present now as he faced retribution for all of the terrible things he had done. “This is no son of mine - my son is dead! I would never lie about that. My son, my own flesh and blood - I organized his funeral, and I mourned him as his father. You can ask anyone who was there.” 

Anger like Hongjoong had never felt before electrocuted his spine, and he wielded it like a whip, seeing red as he staggered further into the room. He clenched his jaw hard enough to hurt his teeth, fixing his father with the full extent of his rage, fire flickering from every nerve. “You held a funeral? You have hated me for my entire fucking life, and you destroyed my childhood, my self worth, everything, and you had the nerve to pretend like you cared? They don’t need to ask for the truth from the people who watched you pretend to care about a son you never wanted - they can just ask me.” 

Balling his hands into fists, Hongjoong tore his gaze away from his father and stared at the rest of the men in the room, rage smoldering beneath his skin. “I am his son, and he has abused me since the day I was born. He has broken my bones, and carved his blades into my skin, and forced me to inflict wounds upon myself. All of the injuries that you see covering my body now are courtesy of him. This man is a monster, and you allowed him to take up this position! You allowed him to abuse his power, to kill hundreds of innocent people, and hurt thousands more!” He began to yell, spit flying from his lips as his eye bulged from his head, heat rising to his face. “So you better fucking listen to me, because you are the ones who placed him in the position that allowed him to do all of this.” 

His father tried to interrupt, but an older man at the front of the room held up a stern hand, eyes never wavering from Hongjoong. “Let him speak,” he insisted, and Hongjoong nodded once at the man, not even acknowledging his father’s presence in the room. 

“My father has killed innocent people for as long as I have been alive, and likely before that, too. I have watched him kill, and I have no reason to lie to you about that, because the things he has done to me are enough to get him locked away. But I want justice for those people, and I want him condemned. He keeps prostitutes locked up here, and he assaults them again and again until he gets tired of them and kills them. He has killed children, and adults, and everyone in between.” 

Hongjoong inhaled a shuddering breath, his stomach twisting in nausea as he recalled all of the lives lost, all of the sightless eyes and brutal wounds. “And he has imprisoned me in the same manner for my entire life. He kept me locked in a small room, and only brought me out for lessons before shoving me back inside. Even when I was a child - a fucking baby - he used to hurt me, without a shred of remorse. There is something so… so deeply wrong with him, and he has tried to infect me with it my entire life. He has pushed me to the brink of death, and I used to wish that he would just kill me, so that I wouldn’t have to endure the pain anymore.” 

His voice sounded cold and detached even to his own ears, but he knew the hurt on his face was evident beneath the blood and grime, the gruesome gash only adding to the image. “He deserves to be locked away, to feel the isolation that he forced onto me and so many others. The position that you all gave him is the only thing that he cares about, and he deserves to have it stripped away, to have nothing left to base his worth upon. Maybe then he will finally understand how worthless he is. Pathetic, and disgusting, and weak. Only the weakest of people prey upon the innocent and vulnerable, and he has been hunting us for sport for years.” He was heaving by the time he finished speaking, and his father stepped forward as if to throttle him before coming to an abrupt halt, remembering that they weren’t alone. Not this time, and never again. 

“And yet you leave out all of the things you have done!” His father spat, his expression crazed with an emotion that Hongjoong couldn’t quite place, glancing at the men in the room frantically. “My son has killed countless innocents of his own! His hands are not free of blood either, and you cannot take his word to hold any weight - he is out of his mind. As a father, I reserve the right to discipline my son as I see fit. He is just as guilty as I am.” 

Hongjoong lurched forward at that, nearly falling to the ground but managing to catch himself just in time, pain and anger flaring into one explosive force inside of him, spewing past his lips. “Look at me!” He yelled, voice cracking as he held his arms out at his sides, baring the extent of his pain for all to see. “Look at what you’ve done to me. You told the world I was dead, and then mourned me like you hadn’t spent the entirety of my life hating me! You made me kill for the first time at five years old, when I didn’t even know what it meant to take a life. You made me believe that I was the guilty one, that I deserved everything because I was never good enough to be your son. You’ve shot me, and stabbed me, and kicked me, and punched me - you’ve raped and murdered innocent people for nothing but your own pleasure. 

“I want my fucking childhood back, but I’ll never be able to experience what it would have been like to grow up with even just a shred of love, because you took that from me! For years I have never been able to let this go, my soul never once at rest, because I knew you were still out there doing these things to people. You are the monster within me. It has never been me - it has always been you.” He stared at his father with his one eye blazing, and he watched as the flame of his hurt bridged the gap between them, finally turning his father’s skin to ash. Only then was he able to recognize the emotion dominating his father’s face - it was fear. 

After all of the suffering, all of the pain and abuse, Hongjoong had finally won. 

The room remained at a standstill for several seconds, until Hongjoong’s father began to surge forward, only to be held back by two other men. They restrained his arms behind his back, and all eyes still remained on Hongjoong, the air heavy with shock and remorse. “We will see that this man pays for the things he has done,” said the same older man from before. His gaze was solemn, and Hongjoong felt like an unchained animal, ferocious and uncontrollable. “We will ensure that you are taken somewhere to heal, and you will not be touched by your father ever again-” 

“No,” Hongjoong whispered, his lips beginning to tremble, though he swallowed and forced his armor back into place. Just a little while longer. “I can take care of myself - I’ve been doing it my entire life. All I ask is that you go down to the dungeons and release the innocent people he keeps in chains, along with the ones he keeps near his quarters.” The man nodded, but Hongjoong wasn’t yet finished. “And remove the military order he set in place, condemning all of us who have found our home on the seas. He only enacted it in order to find me, and I want to go back home. Please, just let me go home.” His voice broke on the final words, and he was already backing towards the door when he received the acknowledgement he needed. 

After that, he vanished from the room, ignoring the voices as they called after him. After all of this agony, he was finally free, and he didn’t intend to stick around for one moment longer. 

The path to the tunnels was one that he still remembered, and he stumbled his way there, staggering against the walls and struggling his way down steps until he finally entered the secret passage that he had discovered so many years ago. The ground beneath his feet was slick with moisture, and as he entered the tunnel the visibility lowered, the blackness of night so oppressive that he had to trail a hand along the wall to ensure that he wouldn’t fall into the rushing water. 

He struggled to maintain his awareness as he limped his way towards the tunnel entrance, his footsteps echoing against the walls, for he had pulled on his steel toed boots that afternoon despite the pain in his ankle. His crew would recognize the sound, and they would know that he was coming. However, the events of the day were quickly rendering him delirious, and he struggled to keep moving, every bone screaming for him to collapse. 

His mind wandered in and out of cognizance, and he was too exhausted to even entertain the idea that his crew hadn’t made it here after all. If that were the case, he would just continue to walk until he plummeted into the sea, for either way he refused to linger in this base for any longer. 

Amid the fog that addled his mind, he didn’t notice the faint sounds approaching at first, the harsh intake of his own breath masking the quiet tapping. Only when he paused to steady the frantic beat of his heart did he hear it, and the tears he had been yearning to shed finally rose to his eyes, hope blooming in his heart with such force that it overshadowed everything else for a brief, beautiful moment. 

“Hongjoong?” The voice echoed against the walls of the tunnel, and Hongjoong knew he was home.

He nearly collapsed in relief, struggling to walk further as he headed for the sound of Seonghwa’s voice, and finally the shadowed figure that he would have recognized anywhere emerged from the darkness. Though neither of them could see very well in the dark, Seonghwa rushed forward at the sight of him, and immediately wrapped him in the embrace he had been dreaming of for weeks. His touch was so gentle that it made Hongjoong’s heart ache, for he hadn’t been touched like this in so long, and he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be loved with such tenderness. 

“You found me,” he mumbled into Seonghwa’s shoulder, grasping at him desperately, needing to make sure that he was real. Though he had known his father was bluffing when he spoke of the things he would do to Seonghwa, he nearly crumbled now that the man was in his arms, proof that he was okay. He felt Seonghwa’s head move as he nodded, clutching onto Hongjoong like he would never again let him go, his face wet with tears. Just feeling the familiar frame beneath his hands was enough for Hongjoong’s heart to mend, the cavern inside of him finally gone as he dropped his armor in the presence of the man he loved.

They stayed together like that for a long time, though Hongjoong could hardly process the time as it passed, finally indulging in the comfort he had yearned for from the person he had missed unbearably. When they eventually did pull away, Seonghwa still kept a hand around Hongjoong’s waist, and Hongjoong leaned on him as they started to slowly make their way back towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa could probably tell from his gait how severely he was injured, but he was grateful for the cover of night, not ready to show the damage to his face. He didn’t think he would ever be ready, but with Seonghwa at his side he refused to worry about that, overwhelmed with relief that they would never be separated again. 

As they approached the end of the tunnel, though, Hongjoong knew that he couldn’t hide forever, and his heart sank when Seonghwa came to a sudden stop. He had obviously seen the giant wound, and Hongjoong tried to tilt his head away, though his efforts were worthless. Seonghwa had already seen it, and a delicate hand touched his chin, directing his head back until their eyes met. Tears brimmed just above Seonghwa’s lashes, and he still looked so angelic that Hongjoong wanted to cry, for the image he had pictured in his mind for weeks had nothing on the real thing. 

“Do not be ashamed, for your wounds display what you were able to survive,” Seonghwa said seriously, needing Hongjoong to understand, and he nodded in response. He had expected to hear that from him, but his heart still warmed at the sincerity in the words, the knot of shame in his chest finally loosening. 

“I knew you would say that, I just - it takes some getting used to,” he responded, the exhaustion in his voice clear, for he couldn’t bring himself to hide it anymore. He allowed Seonghwa to continue to guide him along, though he felt increasingly out of it as they reached the ledge that marked the end of the tunnel, swaying on his feet by the time they came to a stop. A rowboat had been pulled up onto the ledge, and Hongjoong just stared at it, unable to force his mind to work anymore. He couldn’t fathom how he would step inside, for his head felt dangerously light, just moments away from collapse. 

Seonghwa glanced between him and the boat, probably thinking the same thing, tightening the arm around his waist. “Come on, let’s get you in the boat,” he said gently, and Hongjoong nodded, for he would have done anything Seonghwa asked him to. With assistance, Hongjoong was able to place his right leg inside first, trying to keep his weight on his good ankle as he lifted his left leg over the side, wincing as the pain flared despite his efforts. “What did he do to your leg?” Seonghwa asked, and though he tried to keep the words gentle, Hongjoong heard the anger held within. 

He sat down in the boat with Seonghwa’s help, breathing harshly from the exertion. “Now isn’t the time, let’s get out of here. I’ll tell you once we’re on the water,” he responded, throat raw as he panted, unable to bring his body back to a normal state. The injuries were catching up with him, and small black spots began to dance in front of his limited vision, Seonghwa’s form blurring as he braced his hands against the edge of the boat and prepared to push it into the water. 

“I need to push it into the water - hold tight,” he warned Hongjoong, and sluggishly he obeyed, wrapping his ice cold fingers around the edge of the boat. Only then did Seonghwa begin to push, and in the moonlight Hongjoong could see the strain that came over his face, as if it were causing him pain. His face appeared more angular than usual, as if he had lost weight, and Hongjoong’s heart sank as he understood the effects of his abrupt sacrifice. 

A strangled sound passed through Seonghwa’s lips, and Hongjoong felt his eyes sting with tears, still so useless. He should have been able to help, to alleviate some of Seonghwa’s pain, but all he could do was sit and watch. Finally the boat tipped over the ledge, splashing down into the water, and Hongjoong’s mind began to drift again as Seonghwa spun it around before climbing inside. He clambered his way to the front of the boat before sitting down, panting harshly as he grabbed the oars and began to row, bringing them both back to safety. 

The ship loomed ahead, and the current helped to carry them along, sea spray misting over Hongjoong’s skin and sending shivers all along his frame. He watched as Seonghwa’s arms moved, lean muscle visible under his skin, and in his daze he barely restrained himself from reaching out to touch them. When he blinked, he saw massive white wings extending from Seonghwa’s back, though when he blinked again they were gone. Faintly, he registered that he must have been really delirious to believe that Seonghwa really was an angel, though it didn’t seem so far-fetched in his current state of mind. 

“I think my ankle is broken,” he mused suddenly, remembering Seonghwa’s earlier question and deciding that he needed to answer it. “A couple ribs too. And you already know my eye is missing.” He laughed at that, amused by his own words as he leaned forward to wrap his arms around Seonghwa’s waist, delicate bones pressing against his skin. The skin of his neck looked impossibly soft, and Hongjoong wished to press his lips against it, though he had a feeling that now wasn’t the time. 

“Please tell me you took his psychotic ass down,” Seonghwa gritted out, and Hongjoong squeezed him tighter, hardly registering how cold his skin was. His mind was too numb for him to remember exactly how he had taken his father down, but knew in his heart that he had done it, for he wouldn't be here with the man whose soul mirrored his own otherwise. 

“Trust me - he won’t bother us anymore. I’ll tell you the rest later, I’m just so tired,” he trailed off at the end, allowing his head to fall against Seonghwa’s back, nuzzling into the heartbeat that thumped through his skin. Seonghwa was alive - after all of the pain, that was the only thing that really mattered. 

They were back together, and Hongjoong would never need to leave again. “You can rest, I’ll take care of you,” Seonghwa murmured, finally uttering the words that Hongjoong had been waiting for. After so many nights spent taking care of himself, he didn’t need to do that anymore, and his body obeyed the man who owned his heart without any further protest. 

He fell into a semi conscious state, feeling the rough jolt of the waves and arms clutching him tight, catching snatches of words until something finally shifted. Even while barely aware, he felt it when he was pulled onto his ship at last, and only then did he give himself willingly to the arms of unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

The world came back to Hongjoong slowly, in muted sounds and voices, the gentle press of a cot against his back and the dull light of the infirmary shining through his intact eyelid. For a while, he existed in an in between state, his mind hovering on the edge of awareness but not quite crossing the boundary, still vulnerable from all of the mental and physical torture he had been forced to bear. Still, even while drifting in and out of consciousness, he knew that he was safe, and his heart was finally able to rest. 

When he did finally stir, he felt the pain first. Not as unbearable as it had been, but definitely still present, a dull cloud that gained opacity as his mind resurfaced. Every part of his body ached, some worse than others, his face most of all. Screwing up his features, his face pulled strangely, and it took him several seconds to realize that the light whimper of pain that reached his ears had come from his own lips. 

Shuffling sounds came from nearby, but he hardly noticed those as he tried to blink open his eyes, only to find that one of them wouldn’t open. He couldn’t seem to control it at all, and a frown tugged on his lips as he squinted blearily through the one that still worked, his vision hazy after his time spent unconscious. Confusion addled his mind, and he groaned as he tried to move, pain spreading along his broken and bruised body. 

“Hey, Hongjoong, don’t do that just yet, okay?” The voice was a familiar one, soft and calm, though a thin trace of worry underlied the words. “You’re still healing - it’s only been just over a day since we found you.” Hongjoong blinked with added effort, trying to clear his sight enough to see the shadows that hovered at his side, still not understanding why he couldn’t open his other eye. 

Ignoring the pain, he attempted to raise a trembling hand to touch his face, but a gentle touch intercepted the movement. “No, no, um… don’t do that. You’ll mess up your stitches, and the only person who knows how to fix them is - never mind. Um, just… don’t touch your face, okay? I promise you’re okay - it’s me. It’s Yunho, and you’re back on your ship, and everything is going to be okay.” Hongjoong didn’t process anything that Yunho had said at first, but when he did he was trying to sit up again, a weak cry wavering past his lips at the pain gripping his body. 

Again he tried to touch his face, but the hand - probably belonging to Yunho - kept him from doing so, clasping around his fingers to keep them from moving forward any further. Hongjoong tried to speak, but his voice failed at first, and when he did finally manage to get the words out he hardly sounded like himself at all. “Why can’t I see?” he rasped, for though his vision in his right eye had begun to clear, the world shifted off balance without the use of his left. 

Yunho stood by his side, and Hongjoong could now make out the concern on his face as his lips parted soundlessly, as if he were struggling for the right words. “Hongjoong, your um… you eye, it’s gone. Your father… I don’t know what he did exactly, but he wounded your face,” he tried to explain, but Hongjoong tugged his arm free of the hold, reaching up to touch his face only to find a thick bandage wrapped around the area. 

Panic began to flood his chest as the memories returned, and his breath tore from his throat in unsteady gasps as he knocked Yunho’s hands aside, trying to curl in on himself but crying out at the pain caused by the movement. His mind spun dangerously, and he blinked back tears as he scanned the room, desperate for proof that he was really safe. Wooyoung lingered on the other side of him, between two cots that had been pushed next to one another, and when Hongjoong noticed the motionless lump resting atop the other one his heart came to a complete stop. 

A garbled cry fell from his lips, and he tried desperately to climb off of the cot and get to his feet, but two sets of hands restrained him this time. He knew who was lying on the other cot just from the shape of his body under the blanket, silky black hair fanned across the pillow, and his mind ran wild with all of the ways his father had promised to hurt Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa was supposed to be safe - why was he just lying there? Why wasn’t he moving? Unable to remember enough to piece it all together, all Hongjoong could do was panic, fighting against the hands that kept him in place, though he could tell they were hesitant to use any degree of real strength against him. After all, his entire body was covered in cuts and bruises, and he had already suffered enough. 

“Stop,” Yunho begged, but Hongjoong hardly heard him, only focused on the lifeless form of the man he loved. He had fought for so long, all so that he could come back home to the crew who had become his family, but he didn’t want to do it without Seonghwa by his side. They were supposed to be in love - so why was he the only one awake? He sunk his jagged nails into Yunho’s forearm, but the first mate refused to relinquish his hold, even as he grunted in pain. “It’s okay, Hongjoong, please! What’s wrong with him?” 

His view of Seonghwa was suddenly blocked by someone else, for Wooyoung had moved closer, keeping his hands braced against Hongjoong’s shoulders to prevent him from successfully escaping the cot. “Hongjoong,” he called, voice warm and gentle, and something in his tone finally caught Hongjoong’s attention. If something had happened to Seonghwa, Wooyoung would be the most distraught of them all, and yet he seemed to be fine, eyes wide with nothing but concern for his captain. 

Beginning to deflate, Hongjoong still struggled weakly, the panic refusing to let him go even as logic tried to prevail. “Seonghwa,” he panted, for that was all he could think about, straining his neck as he tried to see around Wooyoung’s form. “My f-father - what did he do to him? He said he was going to do so - so many things, and I didn’t believe him, but… but why isn’t he moving? Oh my god, what did I do to him? I should have never - why did I - this is all my fault-” Hongjoong couldn’t figure out how to articulate himself properly, half of his face disfigured by his father’s knife, and every word he spoke sent shocks of pain along the healing skin. 

“No, listen to me, okay? I need you to listen to me,” Wooyoung interrupted, throat bobbing as he swallowed, grasping one of Hongjoong’s hands in both of his own. “I don’t know what your father told you, but he did not lay a finger on Seonghwa, I promise. He’s just exhausted - he pushed himself past the limits of his body to save you, and now he is catching up on some much needed rest. I expect that he’ll be awake in the next few hours, and then you’ll be able to see for yourself that he is fine.” 

But Hongjoong was already shaking his head, a hot tear spilling over his lashes as he stared at Wooyoung desperately. “Please,” he croaked, voice breaking as his lips trembled. “I need - I need to see him. I need to know that he’s okay. My father… he said - he s-said that he was going to…” A sob cut off his words, and finally Yunho stopped holding him in place, sensing that the fight had drained out of him completely. 

“Okay,” Wooyoung soothed, and he raised Hongjoong’s hand just enough to softly press his lips to his knuckles, an easy show of love that snatched all of the remaining breath from his lungs. After so many weeks without a single touch that wasn’t rooted in the intent to harm, he had forgotten how it felt to be handled with such care. He had wondered if he would still be deserving of their love upon his return, but as he stared at Wooyoung he understood that nothing had changed between the eight of them. They still loved him exactly the same, whether he was standing firmly at the helm as he captained their ship or lying here in an infirmary bed with tears stinging his face and bruises covering his body. To them, he was still Hongjoong, and nothing else held any bearing on their love for him, for it had never been conditional. 

Wooyoung released his hand so that he could take a step back towards Seonghwa’s cot, maintaining their eye contact the entire time. “You can see him - I’ll show you him, alright?” Heart pounding against his chest, Hongjoong nodded unsteadily, watching as Wooyoung reached for the blankets covering Seonghwa’s body. He pulled them back slowly so as not to disturb the man underneath, though Seonghwa didn’t stir in the slightest. 

Now that no one stood in the way of Hongjoong’s line of sight, he could make out the closer side of Seonghwa’s face, as well as the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Though he appeared to be deep in sleep, no wounds marred his face or other areas of exposed skin, and Hongjoong’s pulse finally began to even out at the physical proof that his father had only even been bluffing. Seonghwa was okay - he was just sleeping, his features so perfect that he struggled to tear his eyes away. “Thank you,” he whispered, and Wooyoung’s lips curved into a soft smile as he tucked the blanket back under Seonghwa’s chin. 

Turning his head away from Seonghwa albeit reluctantly, Hongjoong swallowed thickly as he locked eyes with his first mate, his stitches itching beneath the bandage. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, unsure of the precise reason for the apology, but desperate to make his feelings known just the same. “For all of the pain I caused, for leaving you all alone… it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t get the words past the massive lump blocking his throat, and Yunho laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“We came to find you as soon as Seonghwa found your letter,” he said with a soft smile, and Hongjoong’s heart ached at the sight of him. Despite the plan he had set in place, during the worst bouts of pain he had wondered if he would ever see any of their faces again, and another tear rolled down his cheek. “We always would have found a way, Hongjoong. You aren’t alone anymore - you never will be again.” 

He ran long fingers through the section of Hongjoong’s hair not covered by the bandage, and Hongjoong leaned into the touch, his pain already worsening the longer he stayed awake. Yunho must have noticed this as well, his eyes so full of warmth that it seemed to fill the room like a burning hearth. “You can rest. When Seonghwa wakes up, I promise that I will wake you up, too,” he appeased, but Hongjoong was quick to shake his head, turning again to glance at Seonghwa. 

Wooyoung was still watching the two of them, but he had returned to his place by Seonghwa’s side, clasping the man’s limp hand in his own as he kept constant vigil beside his cot. Only then did Hongjoong understand that Yunho had probably been doing the same for him, and his face flushed. “I don’t want to sleep again - not until he wakes up,” he mumbled, fingers twitching against the urge to reach out and touch Seonghwa, for his cot was more than an arm’s length away. “What did he do to save me that left him this exhausted?” After all, Hongjoong had struggled to get proper rest for weeks, and he had still woken up first. 

Sharing a glance with Yunho, Wooyoung elected to answer the question, coughing lightly into his fist. “We weren’t able to anchor the boat as close as we wanted, and he took the rowboat from much farther away - I still don’t understand how he managed it. When he came back, he could barely stand because his muscles were so fatigued, and his skin was freezing. But he still refused to let Yeosang stitch you up - he wanted to be the one to do it. He refused to rest until he finished, and then he just… he just completely collapsed. We took care of him, though, don’t worry.”

Moisture clouded over Wooyoung’s eyes as he spoke, and Hongjoong’s chest began to physically ache at the thought of all Seonghwa had endured, all in order to save him. Just from the sight of Seonghwa’s face and body even in unconsciousness, his bones protruded sharply from skin so pale it was nearly translucent, so similar to how he had looked upon his initial freedom from the cell. Gone was the healthy roundness of his cheeks, the golden sheen of his glimmering skin. Losing Hongjoong had hurt him more deeply than he had probably wanted to admit to the others, and the evidence was glaring. 

Guilt weighed heavy upon Hongjoong’s shoulders, and he swallowed down the sob that threatened to escape at the realization of what his sacrifice had done to the man he loved. “I don’t understand what I did in my miserable life to deserve someone like him,” he whispered, for if he spoke any louder he knew his voice would break. 

Gentle fingers squeezed his shoulder, and he tore his gaze away from Seonghwa to look back at Yunho on the other side of his cot. “I think it’s time that you learn not to think about it in that way,” he suggested, though his tone remained unassuming. “You two are the only ones who can truly understand the depth of each other’s pain, and by learning to love each other you have both finally started to heal. He deserves you, and you deserve him, because you both deserve someone who tends to your heart like it is the most precious treasure of all.” He offered Hongjoong a soft smile, and after a moment Hongjoong returned it, though his lips wavered as he tried to blink away his tears. 

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else, but Yunho didn’t press any further, and Hongjoong collapsed back against his pillow now that he knew Seonghwa was safe. The rapid beat of his heart slowed eventually, and he realized that he was still bone tired now that his panic had worn off. Sensing his exhaustion, neither Yunho nor Wooyoung forced Hongjoong to speak about anything else, and though he didn’t fall back asleep he drifted within his own mind for a few hours. He wanted to be awake when Seonghwa woke up, and as the hours ticked by he finally sensed stirring from the next cot over.

Wooyoung had climbed under the blankets to lay beside Seonghwa on the cot, and Hongjoong scanned the room only to find that Yunho wasn’t there anymore. A muted groan filled the otherwise silent room, and Hongjoong redirected his attention towards Seonghwa, watching with bated breath as he pressed his head into Wooyoung’s chest and blinked his eyes blearily. He looked so adorable like this, wild strands of hair hanging down into his face and a trail of drool tracing a path from the corner of his lip to the end of his chin, filling Hongjoong’s chest with warmth. 

After a few minutes he pulled back from Wooyoung, opening his eyes fully and staring at the boy who shared his cot. “How do you feel?” Wooyoung asked, and though Hongjoong couldn’t see his expression from where he lay, he could hear the soft concern underlying his question. Seonghwa just stared for a moment longer, until something visibly clicked within him, the innocence in his expression quickly replaced by panic as he tried to see past Wooyoung to the other cot. 

His face twisted in pain as he strained his damaged muscles, and an anguished cry escaped his lips as he fell back against the thin mattress, though he refused to lower his head as his eyes searched. Though Hongjoong hated to hear him in pain, he couldn’t help but smile at how determined he was, the corners of his lips tugging upwards on their own. Their eyes met, and Hongjoong’s fear melted away at once, his heart settling at last. “You’re really here,” Seonghwa whispered, crying out again when he tried to raise his arm to reach across the gap between them. 

“Seonghwa, don’t move. Your muscles are completely damaged, you slept for almost two entire days,” Wooyoung urged, and he pulled Seonghwa’s back against his chest, allowing him to face in Hongjoong’s direction so that they could both still see each other. After an eternity apart, they were finally in the same room, both recovering from wounds that ran much deeper than their physical skin. No amount of medicine could have fixed the gaping wounds in his soul, and yet Seonghwa’s presence was all it took for the holes to begin to knit back together, the comfort he had yearned for finally washing over him. 

“I woke up even before you, who would’ve thought,” Hongjoong teased from his cot, though he felt fit to burst from the happiness that swelled within him, illuminating all of the cobwebbed corners of his heart. “They told me what they could of how you got to the tunnel and back, because when I woke up I started panicking when I saw you still unconscious.” Shame burned at his cheeks, but he couldn’t hold onto it when Seonghwa looked so pleased to see him. 

It touched his heart to know that Seonghwa had missed him while he was away - such a simple concept, but Hongjoong had never been on the receiving end of it before. “Are you okay?” Seonghwa asked, and Hongjoong heard himself chuckle, the sound escaping so effortlessly despite the weight of the question, for of course Seonghwa would ask him that. He should have known, but there were still moments when he was caught off guard by such easy expressions of care. 

“I am, but it’s all thanks to you. What you did was amazing, Seonghwa,” he praised, and Seonghwa squirmed adorably under the attention. He opened his mouth probably in an attempt to protest, but Hongjoong cut him off. “I’m serious. No person should have been able to row all that distance on their own, and certainly shouldn’t have still neatly stitched up my face afterwards. It is because of you that I am alive.” He needed Seonghwa to understand how grateful he was - he meant every word, and after so much time alone he was through with dancing around the truth. 

After the time he had spent wondering if he would ever see them again, he refused to waste any more time saying things he didn't mean. “To me, there was no other option - I would have saved you no matter what obstacles were between us,” Seonghwa responded, holding his gaze with just as much urgent honesty. 

Hongjoong couldn’t help but smile as he stared at the graceful arrangement of features he had constantly envisioned in his mind during his time away, for his memory could never compare to the real thing. “You kept them safe - you took care of them, even when you were breaking yourself. You did so well, Seonghwa,” he said softly, and an ache pressed against his chest as he noticed how Seonghwa’s shoulders seemed to finally relinquish a weight that had been crushing him since Hongjoong’s capture. 

“I did well,” he repeated, voice soft as he spoke the words aloud, as if finally understanding that he didn’t need to bear that weight any longer. He didn’t need to do any of it on his own anymore, for Hongjoong would always be there to keep him safe, for the rest of their lives together. 

Tears began to well along his lashes, and Hongjoong’s heart melted as he turned to hide his face in Wooyoung’s arm, clearly embarrassed. Little did he know that Hongjoong would have pressed his lips over each tear that fell, for they were a part of him, and didn’t that make them just as beautiful as the man they came from? “Sorry,” Seonghwa croaked, sniffling against Wooyoung’s sleeve. “I just - I really missed you.” 

Unable to ignore how his own eye stung, Hongjoong exhaled a breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “Look at me, Seonghwa,” he requested, unable to veil the emotion in his words, and Seonghwa peeked out from behind Wooyoung’s arm with cheeks wet and shining. “I missed you too, more than anything. But I knew the entire time that you would come and save me - I never doubted it for a second.” As he looked at Seonghwa now, he recalled how the man had been his lifeline all along, the one tether that kept him firmly rooted in reality. Seonghwa would likely never know how much Hongjoong had missed him, simply because words didn’t exist to describe the feeling. 

“He hurt you,” Seonghwa whispered, his voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down his face. “I treated the injuries - I saw them. He’s a monster, and I just let you go.” Guilt riddled his words like bullet holes, and Hongjoong couldn’t stand to hear it, desperate to shower Seonghwa in the love he deserved. None of this had ever been his fault - he hadn’t known, because Hongjoong had kept it all to himself until it was too late. 

“I knew you would blame yourself, no matter what I wrote in my letter. I had to do it, Seonghwa, there was no other option. We’re all okay now - you saved me, that’s what matters,” he urged, voice straining under the weight of his own guilt. “Please, Seonghwa. If you trust me with anything, let it be this. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, to walk away when you were in such pain. But I meant what I said to you - I love you, and after hearing even just pieces of what you did to save me I just want to cherish you, to do whatever it takes to show you how incredibly worthy of love you are.”

Finally the truth of his feelings came tumbling free of his lips, and instead of the profound shift he had expected to feel upon the declaration, all he felt was the comfort that came with his heart finding its home at last. Seonghwa began to cry harder at the words, his frame trembling as he let go of the strength he had clung to in order to keep the rest of the crew safe. Though Hongjoong admired him beyond words for taking care of the ship in his absence, he didn’t need to bear that burden anymore - he could finally set down the self doubt that plagued him, the tension Hongjoong had detected within moments of watching him. 

Wooyoung was hugging Seonghwa tight in his arms, providing all of the comfort he could, an effort that Hongjoong appreciated beyond words. “How about we call in the others, and I’ll tell you all everything that happened?” Hongjoong offered gently, reaching over the edge of his cot despite the pain caused by the movement, unable to stop himself from wiping the tears that stained Seonghwa’s cheeks. 

His fingers were cold, but Seonghwa’s cheek was warm, and he allowed the touch to linger for a moment, indulging in the soft skin that he had feared he would never feel again. He felt it when Seonghwa nodded, and Wooyoung left the cot to go find the rest of the crew, leaving the two of them alone in the infirmary. 

Instead of moving his arm back to his own cot, Hongjoong instead allowed his fingers to brush through Seonghwa’s bangs, drawing just as much comfort from the gesture as Seonghwa did. He had yearned for this, had dreamt of it even in the worst throes of pain, and he would never stop loving Seonghwa now that he finally had him back. Seonghwa leaned into the touch, his eyes falling closed, and Hongjoong shifted his hand in order to support his chin and avoid causing any additional pain to his muscles. 

“It’s all over, Seonghwa. The violence, the fighting. We can do all the things we talked about,” Hongjoong murmured, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “We’re gonna be so happy.” And this time, he actually meant it. This time, no imminent sacrifice loomed over him, clouding over the final tender moments they had shared. This time, all he could think about was the flowers that bloomed in his heart as he stared at Seonghwa, a garden dedicated to their twin souls. 

A familiar hand came to rest over his, and Seonghwa opened his eyes to look at him, irises brown and steady like the soil that allowed their garden to grow. Hongjoong wasn’t sure what he expected him to say in that particular moment - something about the places they would now be able to see together, the wonders of the world that Hongjoong would show him, but those weren’t the words that left his lips. He said just three small words, but their meaning was more profound than any of the earth’s wonders. “I love you.” 

Hongjoong hardly felt it as his expression morphed into one of surprise, for though he had known the truth of Seonghwa’s feelings for a while, he hadn’t expected a true admission for a while yet. His love never would have faltered in the time it took for Seonghwa to understand that he felt the same way, but now he regarded the words as a precious gift, replaying them again and again in his mind. Seonghwa loves me. Suddenly, the world didn’t seem quite as cruel, and he opened his mouth to respond just as the door to the infirmary opened. 

His crew was still making this difficult for him, even while unaware of what had just transpired - he should have known something like this would happen. Their voices instantly filled the room, but Hongjoong could only look at Seonghwa, who lowered their hands and laced their fingers together. Meeting his gaze, Seonghwa winked softly, and heat rose to Hongjoong’s cheeks. When had he become so bold? Though, Hongjoong couldn’t deny that he rather liked the way his heart skipped a beat. 

San came right to Seonghwa’s side to check on the both of them, stealing Wooyoung’s place on the cot with ease, and a smile tugged at Hongjoong’s lips as he took in the sight of his crew all together again. They all arranged themselves around the room, Wooyoung forcing his way onto the other side of Seonghwa’s cot with a pout on his lips, though their hands remained intertwined the entire time. Hongjoong cherished the feeling of Seonghwa’s delicate fingers against his own, still struggling to fathom that they would be able to do this for the rest of their lives. 

His cot dipped slightly as Mingi perched himself on the end, carefully sitting on the side of the mattress that wasn’t occupied by his broken ankle. Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang were all sat on the blankets that still littered the floor, facing the two cots. “We’re really happy to see you both awake,” Yunho blurted, and the wide smile on his lips illuminated the entire room like the rays of the sun. 

Yeosang nodded from beside Yunho, his eyes crinkling. “We are completely back on the open ocean now - no one else in sight,” he announced, and Hongjoong felt his heart fill with relief at the words. It was just them, traveling the seas and able to go wherever they wanted.

“No one will bother us now - the order to sink our ships on sight is no longer in place,” Hongjoong spoke up, desperate to ease any lingering worries amongst his crew. They all stared back at him in varying levels of shock, and he sighed, raising a placating hand. “I’ll explain everything, I promise. But I want to hear everything from you, too,” he said, and they nodded their agreement. It felt strange, that he’d been without his crew for so long that they had separate stories to share, but if there was anyone he felt comfortable telling the entire truth, it was the seven boys surrounding him.

“You need to understand that there was no way I could have told you what I planned to do - I knew you would never allow it, and as much as I didn’t want to, I needed it to take you by surprise. I knew that was the only way I’d be able to pull it off,” he admitted, though the remorse in his tone was clear. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Seonghwa, for he had placed the most weight onto his shoulders, and the guilt pulled at his gut painfully. 

“Never do it again,” Wooyoung murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he hugged Seonghwa, always so in tune with what he needed. 

Drawing strength from the feeling of Seonghwa’s hand in his own, Hongjoong felt his vision blur, for he hated how his choice had affected them. “Trust me, I won’t hurt you all like that again. I promise.” Promises were no small thing to Hongjoong, but he needed to convey his sincerity, for now that his father was no longer a threat they would never have to face that kind of pain again. 

“It was just really hard without you - before we found the letter, we thought we would never see you again,” Seonghwa whispered, his voice raw and trembling. Hearing him say the words out loud cut straight through Hongjoong’s flesh, and his jaw clicked as he ground his teeth together, trying to keep from losing his composure this early. He still had an entire story left to tell, and he had no idea how he was going to get through it when he already felt the press of tears against his intact eye. 

“I know. The thought of you all thinking the worst hurt me worse than any of the things my father did to me,” Hongjoong admitted, grimacing at the mention of his father, the memories threatening to crash over him all at once. 

A brief beat of silence filled the room, and Hongjoong watched as Seonghwa inhaled, as if dreading his own question a moment before it left his lips. “What did he do to you?” He asked quietly, and no one else moved to speak when he was done, all eyes shifting to land upon Hongjoong. He couldn’t avoid this any longer, and he tightened his grip around Seonghwa’s hand, his fear overshadowed by their silent support. 

They deserved to know, and he inhaled a shaky breath before he began, wishing he could hide from the memories while understanding that this was the only way to set them free. “When he first took me into the navy ship, he just locked me away in a small closet. There were no lights, and he left me there in the pitch black for the entire journey back to the base.” His throat began to close up at the admission, and he refused to give any further details, for the horror on the faces of his friends was enough already. 

“How long was it?” Jongho’s voice sounded small as he asked the question, like he was afraid of the answer. Hongjoong had to duck his head, for he couldn’t stand to see the fearsome expression of the youngest member of his crew. This would be the last time he evoked such emotions in the people he loved - he swore it to himself before providing the answer to Jongho’s question. 

“Nearly three weeks, if what he told me was true. I had no concept of time - it felt like it would never end. I just - it was like I was losing my mind, I couldn’t even see my own body. I truly thought I wasn’t alive, that none of you were real. That I would just be alone forever.” His voice trailed off into something smaller than a whisper towards the end, for a part of him had still feared it to be true until they had all funneled into the room just now. And even then, he knew that he would never be able to stand the dark, not after what his father had put him through. 

He could feel his own frame shrinking, reverting back to the frame of mind his father had impressed upon him since his childhood, and he hated that he couldn’t just magically get better. For the rest of his days, he would need to actively work for his own recovery, and the thought made tears spring into his vision. Hadn't he suffered enough already? Why couldn’t he just be free?