Chapter Text
It’s poetic justice, Changbin thinks, a self-fulfilling prophecy, that he and Minho are stuck on a single’s cruise just a couple of weeks after breaking up for good.
They hadn’t been broken up when Minho had booked the vacation. Changbin remembers Minho coming to him, months back, with his laptop in hand. They’d been spitballing ideas for a vacation for weeks, but it always came back to the issue of money.
But Changbin had scrutinized the screen Minho wordlessly held in front of him, reading the details and, most importantly, the cheap price.
“This is a single’s cruise,” Changbin had said dismissively, returning to his work. “We’re not single. Or is this your way of breaking up with me?” It had been teasing and cheeky back then; now, fresh off their breakup and with the power of hindsight, it felt a little too on-the-nose.
“Oh, they’re not strict about that stuff,” Minho had insisted with a scoff. “And it has an all-you-can-eat buffet and free drinks included in the ticket price. I can even get us a single room with a queen. You don’t have to be single, it’s just meant for singles.”
Changbin glanced back at the screen, reconsidered the price along with the knowledge of just how much damage he could do on an unlimited amount of food and drink, and… well, it was a bargain, wasn’t it? A week to lounge in a tropical locale with Minho and probably gorge themselves so much they could barely have sex after. Well, they’d probably still manage that, too, actually.
“Yeah, okay,” Changbin had agreed, turning back to his work. “Sounds fun, babe.”
Now Changbin knows that it most definitely will not be fun, because he’s stuck on the thing with Minho. In a shared bed. It’s almost guaranteed Minho will kick Changbin out of bed and make him sleep on the floor, but they’d both been too stubborn to back down from the vacation. Changbin suspects that Minho had thought he’d back out at the last minute and Minho would get the vacation (and the room) to himself—it’s exactly what he’d thought about Minho. But here they both are, standing three feet apart in the check-in line and refusing to look at one another.
Most of the other couples in line to board are just friends, it seems—fitting for a single’s cruise. But still, he and Minho have more space between them than anyone else. Minho’s arms are crossed, his nose slightly upturned in the air.
And, honestly, he’s being childish—he’s always childish. He plays around too much, he’s not nice enough to Changbin, and he honestly doesn’t know why it had taken them so long to break up.
Worse yet, there is one obvious couple ahead of them in line, probably having booked a single’s cruise for the same reason as Changbin and Minho. The shorter of the two is leaning into the taller’s chest, and they’re kissing lazily, giggling between pecks.
Minho makes a disgusted noise from beside Changbin. Even as a couple, it’s something they would have made fun of. Sucking face in public had never been their thing—making fun of couples who thought it was cute, though? That was their thing through and through.
It’s no fun now, spying a couple being gross in public, not without Minho making a mocking voice of them, high-pitched babes and sweeties that made Changbin fake-retch.
It’s quiet between them, stewing in their shared disgust but with none of the previous camaraderie.
It’s the couple’s turn to check in now, but they’re too lost in each other to notice and the people between Changbin and Minho and the couple are too polite to say anything.
Fortunately, Minho is not. “Hey, watch it!” he calls angrily. “Pay attention!”
The couple looks up, offended, but then the taller one is tugging the shorter one towards the check-in attendant. “C’mon, Lix, ignore him.”
“Lix,” Minho repeats in a mutter, sickened by what is obviously a fond nickname. Nevermind that up until two weeks ago, they’d been regularly calling each other Min and Bin (occasionally, from Minho, Trash Bin, because he’s a dick).
“Eager to get on the boat?” Changbin says, mostly because the tension between them is stifling.
“More distance between you and I,” Minho says coldly, turning even further away from him.
“Fair enough,” Changbin says. He’s not quite sure why Minho hates him all of a sudden; Changbin had been the one to dump him. The coldness and rudeness, the playing around, had all gotten to be too much. Minho was just kind of a dick to his boyfriend, and Changbin deserves someone better, he knows.
Maybe pointing that fact out to Minho had been a cold and unwanted realization for him, and he’s directing his anger towards Changbin instead of trying to improve himself.
Despite the hold ups at check-in, they’re eventually all ready to board. They’re even offered a welcome piña colada as they board, and Minho downs his so quickly that he gets a brain freeze and has to stop on the stairs down to their cabin in pain.
Changbin rolls his eyes. “I’m leaving you behind,” he warns as Minho clutches at his skull.
“Don’t care,” Minho retorts sourly. Even with his head still hurting from the icy drink, he soldiers on.
Their cabin is not meant to be large and luxurious—it’s actually quite small and cramped, down a long hallway of similar interior cabins. There’s one man repeatedly tapping his key card to his door, unable to get the door to unlock.
They both ignore him, barely brushing past to get to their own room, even further down the hallway. “Jesus,” Changbin notes. “Could you have gotten us one further away?”
“Sleep in the hall, then,” Minho gripes.
Their cabin is second-to-last. It’s predictably tiny. The bathroom is a closet, the closet is a box, and the bed is… too small. Probably too small for them even when they were dating.
“Dibs on the bed,” Minho calls immediately, shoving past Changbin. “I booked the room, after all.”
“And where the hell do I sleep?” Changbin asks. Even… vertically challenged though he is, there’s hardly enough room on the floor for him to stretch out. He can already envision Minho getting up to pee in the middle of the night and tripping over him.
Minho scoffs. “Maybe you should try to make a friend. It’s a single’s cruise, after all.”
The thought of finding someone now, someone new, terrifies Changbin. The only serious relationship he’s had has been Minho and… well, he doesn’t quite know about other people. But maybe he ought to give it a shot. It’s a single’s cruise, after all, and if it goes awkwardly, he’ll only have to be stuck on a boat with them for a week.
“Yeah,” Changbin says thoughtfully. He chucks his bag on the bed right as Minho throws himself onto it; the bag and Minho collide and he scowls at his ex-boyfriend. “Yeah, maybe I’ll give that a try.”
“Felix,” Jeongin says gently, tapping his ankle. “Quit thinking about it, it’s fine.”
They’re sitting in a lounge, people-watching and enjoying complimentary cocktails. Felix’s legs are up in Jeongin’s lap, but he’s hardly paying attention to his boyfriend pointing out the attention-getting dresses some of the women are wearing, nor the ludicrous hairstyles some of the men have tried.
“Sorry, Innie,” Felix says, training his eyes back on Jeongin’s face and smiling. “Sorry, just… it was so mean.” It had been barely ten seconds they’d held up the line; Felix can hardly help it that Jeongin is just so kissable. Nonetheless, he’d been mortified at the man calling for them to pay attention—he had an unfortunate tendency of letting things like that get to him.
“Don’t let one asshole ruin your day,” Jeongin reminds him. “Did you see the guy he was with? Looked miserable. I bet he’s awful to be around.”
“Yeah,” Felix agrees, smiling again. “Yeah, sorry. We’re here to have fun.” He pulls his feet from Jeongin’s lap and leans forward. “What’s on the schedule for tonight?”
Jeongin leans forward as well, pecking Felix’s lips while he has the opportunity. “Well,” he says, looking down and flicking through the cruise program between them. “There’s a mixer tonight. Drinks and dancing.”
“I like to dance,” Felix says brightly. “But there’s no need to mix—I think I already have the most handsome man to myself.”
It’s cheesy, but Jeongin grins at him anyway. “No, that’s you.” It’s cheesy, but that’s them.
It’s hard to believe that they’d been just friends when they booked this single’s cruise. They’d even joked about finding The One for each of them, when they’d been staring each other in the face the whole time—it had felt almost like destiny to Felix, like he and Jeongin are just meant to be together. Anyway, suddenly not being single is no reason to cancel a fun vacation, and it will certainly be even more fun together than separate.
Just then, a man bumbles by them on the phone. They catch the barest, “Yes, Mom, I’ll try to meet people…” before he’s too far to be in earshot, but it’s enough.
Felix turns to Jeongin, their favorite game while people-watching, and juts his chin at the retreating man. “His mom made him come on the cruise.”
Jeongin grins in return, playing along, making up a scenario. “She had him too old, and she wants grandkids before she dies.” They’d done this kind of thing even before they dated. Find someplace crowded and people-watch, making up scenarios about them and seeing who can come up with the most realistic and/or amusing one.
Felix shakes his head. “Did you see him? No way. I predict we’ll be seeing him at the LGBTQ mixer tonight. No way he’s straight.”
“Maybe his mom doesn’t know that,” Jeongin shrugs.
Felix gasps. “Do you think he’ll pretend to be straight for her? Get married, have kids?” It’s slightly invasive, making up an entire fantasy for this stranger, but it’s not like he has to know about it. He gazes sadly after the man, who has no idea they’re watching him. “That’s so sad.”
Jeongin hates Felix being sad, even by his own imagination, so he amends, “No… no, his mom definitely knows. How could she not?” Call it gaydar, call it vibes, call it an aura, but Jeongin knows: that man is gay. Or at least bisexual. “No, he’s probably just hopelessly awkward.”
“That’s sad,” Felix says, frowning.
“It’s a single’s cruise,” Jeongin reminds Felix, pulling his feet back into his lap. “He’ll probably find somebody, you know?”
“Yeah,” Felix agrees with a smile, still looking at the man. He likes a happy ending, can’t stand a sad one for the life of him.
“Well,” Jeongin says, squeezing Felix’s ankle again. “It’s a few hours until the mixer. Probably enough time to make sure our room is up to scratch?” He clears his throat meaningfully and looks at Felix, who grins.
They’re still in the phase where they can’t quite keep their hands off each other, and Felix loves it. It’s been a few months, but he hopes it doesn’t ever end, that Jeongin will be this ready for him always.
So Felix tugs him up and drags him to the elevators; their cabin is all the way at the top of the ship. The elevators have glass to overlook the main lobby of the ship, the space where all the shops and restaurants are, the lounges.
When they finally catch an elevator, of course they’re not lucky enough for it to be empty—there’s one man inside, who Felix recognizes immediately. It’s the man who’d yelled at them for the kissing in line, though he’s missing his miserable-looking partner. He still has a sour look on his face, but if he recognizes Jeongin and Felix from earlier, he doesn’t say anything.
Felix is on the verge of tugging Jeongin back, telling him to wait for the next elevator, when Jeongin gets a wicked smile on his face and tugs Felix inside. “Going up?” he asks the man with a sickeningly sweet tone, and he reluctantly nods in response. “Great, us too,” he says, punching the button of their floor.
Then he promptly backs Felix into the glass overlooking the main lobby and kisses him bruisingly deep. The man makes a noise somewhere between distress and disgust, but Jeongin’s running his tongue along Felix’s lip and he suddenly finds he doesn’t care what the man thinks, after all. Let him be bitter; Felix is young and in love—so, so in love.
He’s not positive, but he thinks the man might punch a button before the floor he’s heading to, just to escape Felix and Jeongin. “Good riddance,” Jeongin mutters as he finally leaves, but Felix is already pulling him back to his lips, wanting to take advantage of their newfound privacy.
Slowly, everything starts to add up for Seungmin. He takes in the exquisite care with which everyone seems to be dressed, the inordinate number of solitary passengers, and the handful of people who’ve approached him for small talk, and comes to the inevitable conclusion: he’s booked a single’s cruise without realizing. Huh.
Oh, well, it had been cheap at least. And they’re not skimping on the liquor. And, well—he is single. That hadn’t really been his intention in booking the cruise. He just thinks it’s healthy to pass time by yourself without shame—there’s no one he’d rather be with than himself.
A single’s cruise, he realizes, might complicate this. There seems to be no signal for leave me the hell alone when everyone on the ship is looking for something to fuck. This is evidenced to him best when, as he sits poolside and reads a book he’s been meaning to get around to for months, someone takes the liberty of sliding in the deck chair beside him. Nevermind that there’s an entire row of open chairs—it seems this guy has something other than lounging on his mind.
It’s been amusing, at least, seeing how other people perceive him. There had been a group of shy girls who had sent their apparent leader marching over to him, asking if he’d like to join their table. There had been a man who had boldly winked at him as he got out of the pool, tanned and dripping with water. By his tally, he’s about equally split between men approaching him and women approaching him. Fascinating.
He looks over at the new guy, who is slightly skewing the odds in favor of the men now. He has long legs and long hair, bleached blond—do people still do that?—with a tank top thrown on over his swimsuit.
“Hi there,” he greets. As far as opening lines go, it’s less than impressive. “What’s your name?”
“Seungmin,” he responds, taking the man in before returning to his book. He’s more attractive than anyone who’s approached him yet, but is it worth it having to put up with him for an entire week? Seungmin wants at least some time alone. He’s not exactly looking for a relationship.
“I’m Hyunjin,” he responds. Seungmin hadn’t asked, but he doesn’t mind knowing the man’s name. It’s alright, he thinks.
“What brings you on a single’s cruise, then, Hyunjin?” Seungmin asks, glancing up from his book.
“I’m single,” he says, grinning. “Duh. You?”
“Didn’t realize it was a single’s cruise ‘til after I boarded, to be honest.”
Surprisingly, Hyunjin laughs, covering his mouth with his hand. It’s a laugh that seems to surprise even Hyunjin, for his eyes go wide and he tries to control himself. It seems he’s playing a role, then: the suave, cool and collected Hot Guy. But he’s not that, not really.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling himself together. “Just—my friends call me airheaded. But that’s pretty fuckin’ airheaded, huh?”
Seungmin doesn’t laugh, but he’s not offended. It was a little absent of him, of course, booking a cruise without realizing it was a single’s cruise. “Why would you apologize for laughing?” Seungmin asks. “I like it better than whatever act you’re putting on.”
“Act?” Hyunjin asks, and he seems a bit offended by the implication.
“Y’know,” Seungmin says, gesturing at his entire being. “The hot Adonis thing? But actually you’re a dork with a stupid laugh?”
“You think my laugh’s stupid?” Hyunjin asks, stunned.
“Yeah,” Seungmin admits. “But in a cute way. An authentic way. I have a stupid laugh, too.”
Hyunjin blinks at Seungmin, and it’s quite clear he has no idea what to make of him—whether he should genuinely be offended at him or not.
“What do you do?” Seungmin asks. “For work?”
“I’m… a model,” Hyunjin asks, stunned by the sudden change of topic. “You?”
“A nurse,” he says, as if it doesn’t much matter. “But, no, that makes sense then. You being a model. You have to act all together and with it all the time, right? It’s about confidence.”
“Are you… like, a therapist nurse?”
Seungmin resists the urge to tell him that that’s not a real thing. But, he has more or less just psychoanalyzed Hyunjin, torn down his entire façade in less than two minutes. “I did a six-month rotation on a psych ward,” he says simply, returning to his book. There’s silence, but Hyunjin doesn’t move from his side, still staring at him in awed confusion. So, throwing him a bone, he glances over and says, “You should be confident, though, you know. It’s a good thing. And you have plenty to be confident about.”
That makes Hyunjin grin, though it’s hardly a traditional compliment. “Hey,” he says, taking the liberty of leaning forward towards Seungmin, putting his hand on his thigh. “There’s this mixer tonight, right? Wanna go together? Be my date?”
Is it opposite day? Seungmin doesn’t think he’s anything special next to Hyunjin, who embodies the essence of model in every poised, practiced movement. Seungmin’s not ugly, of course, he likes to think he’s better than average, but he’s no model. Also, he’s just spent half their conversation picking him apart psychologically.
“You’re gonna settle for me before we’ve even set sail?” Seungmin asks with a derisive snort.
Hyunjin frowns. “No, see, you need more confidence,” he protests. “First of all, I’ve seen people approaching you left and right. They wouldn’t do that unless they thought you were hot.”
“Yeah,” Seungmin agrees. “Then I talk to them and they find out I’m brutally honest.”
“I think you’re interesting,” Hyunjin says. “I don’t know what to expect when I talk to you, and isn’t that fun? Plus, if you want to be brutally honest, go ahead. I already know I’m perfect physically, so there’s nothing you can ding me for there.”
Seungmin scoffs again, though it comes out as more of a chuckle. Still, he can’t quite argue with that spotless logic from Hyunjin. “Well,” Seungmin decides, “I didn’t come on this cruise looking for love, or a relationship, or a one-night stand. So give a few other people a chance to woo you, and if you don’t find anyone by the end of the mixer tonight, I’ll take you to breakfast in the morning. My treat.”
Hyunjin blinks at him, both hands now perched on Seungmin’s thigh. “...Breakfast is free,” Hyunjin reminds him.
“Yeah, so get whatever you want,” Seungmin says, grinning up at Hyunjin’s bewildered face.
Chan doesn’t realize it’s a single’s cruise for an embarrassingly long time. To be fair, it’s not all singles—there’d been that one couple all over each other in the check-in line, and that other bitter, divorced couple griping at each other as he’d tried in vain to get his key card to grant him entrance to his cabin.
He doesn’t realize until he goes to the front desk to get a new key card. There’s a line, of course, and the guy behind Chan is talking to his mom on the phone, loudly.
“Mom,” he’s saying in a sigh, “I’ve got to go, I’m almost at the front of the line. We’re setting sail soon, too, and I won’t really have service. Yes, I promise I’ll try to talk to people. I won’t step foot on land until I have a boyfriend, really.”
He hangs up the phone and heaves a heavy sigh, enough that Chan wheels around to glance at him. He’s short (okay, he can recognize that he’s also short, but this man is even shorter!) with bright eyes and full cheeks. When he meets Chan’s glance, he turns oddly red and stammers an apology.
“S-sorry, was I talking a bit loud?”
“It’s fine,” Chan insists, shaking his head. “Parents, right?”
“Yeah,” he says, nervously laughing. “Ha, ha. They’re, uh, they’re crazy.” He seems oddly nervous and shy. Maybe he just doesn’t like new people, Chan thinks. Fair enough. “I’m Jisung.”
“Chan,” he returns, and that’s all the time for pleasantries there is; the receptionist calls for the next in line, and that’s Chan.
In all, it takes almost no time to get his key card sorted, but while the receptionist is writing his cabin number on the envelope, his eye catches a placard tented on the counter. It advertises an LGBTQ single’s mixer for tonight. That’s nice, Chan thinks. There are probably lots of single people on this ship.
Well, of course, he’s single, but he’s not really looking for anything. Much less going to a mixer. God, that would be awkward. Maybe Jisung should go, though it’s a bit presumptuous of Chan to assume that he’d want to go to the LGBTQ one. Then he remembers Jisung’s mention of a boyfriend to his mom. He’d point the poster out to him, but he’s engaged in a conversation with the other receptionist. Well, he can figure it out himself.
He’s halfway back to his room when the realization finally hits him. Where are all the couples? The screaming children? There’s maybe no passenger on this boat older than their thirties. And there are definitely no minors, no teenagers. Isn’t that weird?
Uneasy, he returns to his cabin, though he’s relieved that the quarreling couple have vacated the hall and that his keycard works the first time this time. Still, he checks the cruise program first thing, laid neatly on his bed by the cleaning crew.
Sure enough, in fancy script at the top: Summer 2023 Single’s Cruise.
A single’s cruise? He’s booked a fucking single’s cruise? He didn’t even bring any good clothes! He doesn’t even want to date anybody! Oh, god, what if someone approaches him?
He has a brief thought of asking to disembark, to just not bother with the stupid cruise, but no sooner does the thought cross his mind than a breezy female voice informs the ship as a whole that they’ll be setting sail as soon as they complete the mandatory muster drill, and that the siren to follow will be for drill purposes only.
Chan lays back in his bed and groans as the piercing siren sounds. The anxiety in his gut swirls so badly he’s not sure he can get up, put his life jacket on, and find his appropriate muster station. Maybe he’ll just lay here for the rest of the week, rot in bed to avoid the reality of the situation.
Hyunjin knows he looks good, so it’s only natural the amount of attention he’s getting. He’s undone the buttons of his shirt an appropriately skanky amount and he put just enough glitter on his eyelids to catch the dim light of the ballroom.
Seungmin, as promised, is not at the mixer, and Hyunjin is also making good on his promise to mingle and try his options before going for Seungmin. He likes the attention, anyway, honestly.
The man he’s with now is a little brutish, a little gross, but he looks at Hyunjin like he’s enraptured, and that’s good enough. It had gotten hot inside, all the lights and the dancing, so they’re on the starboard deck, leaning peacefully over the railing.
“The moonlight on the water is so pretty, don’t you think?” Hyunjin asks in a sigh. It’s a stock phrase, a cliché, but this man doesn’t really deserve anything unique to Hyunjin. Besides, it’s something a character in a movie would say, and it’s kind of fun to pretend he’s the lead in a romance movie, even if this man isn’t really up to scratch as his love interest.
He’s expecting something back like, “Not as pretty as you,” but it seems the other actor forgot his lines. Instead, he says, “You see that big cloud up ahead?”
No, Hyunjin can’t. The sky is inky black, and it’s incredibly unlikely he could see a cloud from this distance. It’s almost an acceptable time to slip out from the mixer, and he has Seungmin’s cabin number memorized—he’d convinced him to give it to him for peace of mind, insurance in case he doesn’t show as he’d promised. It gives Hyunjin the means to track him down, and Seungmin had seemed mostly amused when he’d told him so.
“No,” Hyunjin says, realizing too late that he sounds put-out, put-off. He is, but he doesn’t want to sound it. His drink hangs limply from his hand, lazily over the railing as if he doesn’t mind if it falls to the churning sea below. He cranes his neck forward to try to see said cloud, but there’s nothing. The man, whose name Hyunjin has forgotten, takes the chance to crowd him, his breath hitting his neck.
“It’s a volcanic eruption,” the man explains. “Started just this morning.”
Hyunjin looks back at him in shock. “Aren’t we heading straight for it? That’s hardly safe.”
The man shrugs. “Well, if I were the captain—you know, I have a boat and everything?—I would…”
It’s safe to tune out—encouraged, as far as Hyunjin is concerned. If he has to hear one more rich asshole brag about a boat, or a sports car, or an inherited mansion… He gulps his drink, not caring if he looks rude doing so. And the volcano thing is either a lie invented by the man or it’s safe enough to steer in the general direction of it—otherwise, surely the real captain of the ship wouldn’t do it.
The man is still prattling on a full five minutes later, and Hyunjin is going to lose it. “Hey,” he says, stopping the man in his tracks with a hand on his forearm. “I’m gonna go use the restroom. Give me five minutes?”
The man nods, though he doesn’t look offended. Rather, he has an oddly sinister look on his face that Hyunjin doesn’t like one bit. The sooner he gets away from this creep, the better.
So he doesn’t go to the restroom. He doesn’t return to the mixer, either. He ordinarily likes drinking, dancing, and parties, but he’s not really feeling it tonight. But he knows Seungmin’s cabin number—and it’s across the ship, the perfect distance from that creep.
The rest of the ship is pretty empty, and blissfully quiet. Hyunjin doesn’t think the boat is rocking that much, but he seems to be having a hard time, suddenly, staying upright in the little corridors. Did he drink more than he thought? His shoulders slam against cabin doors as he sways wildly side to side, unable to make himself walk straight. He nearly tumbles down the stairs trying to make it down to Seungmin’s floor—he actually has to sit and scoot on his butt like a little kid, but he’s oddly giggly about it.
In the very recesses of his mind, he can tell the asshole slipped something into his drink. But in the drugged and hazy forefront of his mind, nothing quite makes sense, and it’s kind of fun watching the colors in the wallpaper swirl together. So he sits on the ground and watches them until he gets too dizzy, even, to sit up, and then he falls onto his back, watching the swaying and jerking of the chandelier above him. Is it supposed to be moving that much? Is the ship really jerking so much? There’s a particular harsh jerk, and Hyunjin slams against the brightly wallpapered wall. And is he imagining that loud, ripping crunch, or is it just the drugs he was slipped?
It takes a bit of convincing to get Felix off the dancefloor, but Jeongin is winded. “Sorry, babe,” Felix apologizes, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I was having too much fun. You want a drink?”
Jeongin manages a nod, too breathless to verbally respond. Felix giggles and presses a kiss to his hair, leaving him at the table to go stand at the bar and beg for a bartender’s attention.
“Hey, there,” says a gruff voice from behind him. Jeongin, still panting, turns to see an equally gruff man looking at him. “Wanna dance?”
“Sorry,” Jeongin says, shaking his head and nodding his head over to the bar, to Felix. “I’m here with my boyfriend.”
“It’s just a dance,” the man says.
“No, thanks,” Jeongin says, more firmly this time.
“Don’t be like that,” he says, frowning.
“You don’t be like that,” Jeongin retorts intelligently, furrowing his brow at the man. Honestly, the audacity? There are actually people like this in real life, not just in movies?
“Who the fuck,” the man says, seizing Jeongin’s bicep, “do you think you are?”
He reeks of alcohol, even though that’s hardly an excuse for acting like a total dick. “Look, just get the fuck off me,” Jeongin says, trying to rip his arm from the man’s grip. He realizes with dismay that the man is stronger than him; he’ll have to take a low tactic to get away from him.
Before he can get away with kneeing him in the crotch, the man mashes their lips together, and it stuns Jeongin enough that he can’t do much more than try to squirm away for a few seconds. But the stench of his breath brings him back, reminds him that he does have a recourse.
So, yeah, he knees him in the crotch. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He knees him in the crotch, and darts away to the bar to grab Felix before the man can recover enough to retaliate.
But Felix is already facing him, a drink in each hand. He has a betrayed look on his face, and—no. It can’t be. He can’t think that Jeongin wanted that guy, that he was even remotely interested in him. When he has Felix? Not in a million years.
But Felix is already dropping the glasses on the nearest flat surface and warning, “Don’t, Jeongin.” His voice is already choked with tears, and he holds up a finger in warning as he backs away. “Leave me alone, I—I can’t believe you!”
“Lix—” Jeongin says, but he’s already turned and sprinted away, in the general direction of their cabin.
He heaves a sigh, preparing to run after him. What a stupid misunderstanding. But at least Jeongin has a key card; even if Felix beats him there, he’ll just go in and explain everything. Felix will feel bad about it, but they’ll patch it up. They’ve had little quarrels, but never something like this—but it’s a misunderstanding, and it’ll smooth over.
So, he makes to jog for their room as well. It’s only once he’s out of the ballroom where the mixer is that he realizes the man he’d just emasculated is also on his tail, and that’s… not good. What does he do? There are no cops on a fucking cruise ship.
He doesn’t want to lead the man to his and Felix’s room, so he’ll have to lose him somehow. He breaks from a jog into a sprint, dashing down a couple flights of stairs. Maybe he can go all the way down and catch an elevator up to the top floor before the man can. Then he can loop around and lose him for good.
No luck—the signs above the elevators show there are none available on this floor. He can hear the man’s footsteps thudding on the steps above him, so he steals into a cleaning supply closet tucked out of sight around the corner. It’s full of mops and brooms and chemicals that burn his nose, but it’s better than the stale alcohol on that man’s breath.
He’s not going to risk running into him again as he tears around the ship, though. He’s going to stay put for a few minutes, at least. There’s more jostling and lurching than usual, but it must be the location of the closet—it’s tucked away deep in the ship. So when he lurches extra hard and smashes his head on a mop handle, when he hears the grating crunch of metal, he assumes it’s something from the more technical side of the ship, nothing to worry about.
Has Jisung succeeded on this, his first night on a single’s cruise? Has he managed to woo someone with his awkward charm to succeed in his mother’s mission?
Because this is very much not him, making out with a near-stranger on the abandoned bow of the ship. It’s like Titanic, he thinks—he loves that movie.
This is a bit hastier than Jack and Rose had been, though. He’d barely gotten Minho’s name before Minho was tugging him out of the too-loud ballroom. The romantic in him says that Minho had sensed his supreme discomfort and wanted to take him someplace more comfortable, but maybe he just really wanted to kiss him somewhere more private than a crowded ballroom. That’s okay, too.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” Minho groans against his lips. He’s being pretty rough, but Jisung’s shockingly okay with being manhandled, directed by Minho’s hands stretching the collar of his shirt.
Jisung can’t do anything but whine against his lips, which he realizes in retrospect sounds kind of lame. But Minho seems more than into it, pulling their bodies firmly together, like he wants them pressed together everywhere they can be.
“You have a room?” Minho asks, pressing him against the nearest wall. On the bow, the wind is pretty strong, and there’s a weird glow in the distance, a smell of smoke. Probably nothing. Maybe there’s a barbecue somewhere on the ship.
“Of course I do,” Jisung says, breathless. “Don’t you?”
“I have… a roommate,” Minho says, as if he’s deciding what to call the other person. “Yours is more convenient.”
“Oh,” Jisung says. Is he really doing this? Going to bed with some random guy he barely knows? He realizes dimly that he is, and it’s oddly exciting.
“Lead the way,” Minho insists, spinning Jisung by the shoulders, back towards the direction of inside. Before they can go inside (Jisung’s not sure his legs quite work), the door is opening and another man is stepping out.
He seems to take stock of the scene in front of him, then asks coldly, “And what the hell are you doing, Minho?”
Jisung whips his head over his shoulder, looking to Minho for clarification.
He offers none. “What do you care?” he asks, almost sneers. He’s turned much colder than he’d been with Jisung, and he gets the feeling that these two don’t get along. Is this the roommate?
“So what, you’ll sleep with the first person desperate enough to get back at me? To spite me?” the man asks, gesturing at Jisung as if he’s not a real person with feelings. And, yeah, it kind of hurts a little bit—is he trying to call Jisung a slut or something?
Minho scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Just because some of us have enough game to get laid, Changbin—”
“Oh, no,” Changbin protests, “Don’t start with that shit.”
Jisung seems to be forgotten, and… this is awkward. Minho and Changbin don’t seem to be giving up their bickering anytime soon, it’s almost like they thrive on it.
How badly does Jisung want to get laid? Is it worth enduring this? In the end, he decides that it’s not. He’ll take the loss and sneak away, go curl up in his own bed alone and try again tomorrow. And hey, maybe Minho will come to his senses, too, find him and apologize. And maybe, like, still fuck him or something. He can hope.
But as he edges for the door, Changbin catches him and snaps, “Don’t you dare! I’m not done with you!”
With what? He’s only chewing out Minho, but his tone is too scary for Jisung to protest. He stays frozen, locked in place in the cool night air.
That’s the position he’s in when he notes a particularly large, glowing explosion in the distance. “Uh…” he says uncertainly, eyes wide. His pupils are certainly glowing with the fire in the distance, but Minho and Changbin don’t seem to notice, still airing out their grievances with each other. “Guys? Guys, there’s like an explo—”
Jisung is interrupted by a massive wave slamming into the ship, sending it lurching. All three of them go skidding across the deck, slamming into the railing. It knocks the breath out of Jisung, and as he gasps, he swallows a considerable amount of seawater. As he tries to hack it up, he barely has the presence of mind to reach out and grip at the railing.
Oh no, this is way too much like Titanic.
They all instinctively cling to the railing as the ship rights itself in the waves, but then there’s a large, tearing crunch, and the bow of the ship crashes into the sea. Water rushes at the three of them as the disconnected bow meets the waves, and Jisung is submerged, swept away from the safe anchor of his railing and into the open ocean.