rapture of the deep ; seodo

✰ chapter 9 ✰

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“So, what’s on for today?” Geonhak asked while he was still fighting and struggling to squeeze his limbs into the narrow fashion of his wetsuit – he had learnt from yesterday’s mistakes. 

His work schedule had been the same this day, his students a tad more behaved and tame than the day before in so as he had gone through the day in almost robotic measure with excitement coiling round his chest, and Geonhak wondered whether his ordinary routine as ordinary mortal had always been this boring.

He had never been one to preach to treasure the small things in life, most of all not now that he had come to know Seoho and grown to live off those blasts of adrenaline that went off in his presence alone despite Geonhak never having been easy to impress.

“I want to teach you an ancient breathing technique,” Seoho beamed, smile never flinching, not even when Geonhak paused his desperate stirring, as the stupid neoprene wouldn’t slide over the sweaty film on his skin.

Seoho’s orange hair was braided in places this time, wildly coloured seagrass blended in the fine braided streaks while tellin and small snail shells held orange flicks of hair in place.

Geonhak knew that he had to pull himself together and struggle against the urge to run his fingers through Seoho’s damp hair and rearrange and fix some disorganised strands that had relinquished under the force of the waves.

“Breathing technique?” He asked, tearing his eyes away from Seoho’s dainty appearance as he earnt a convicted nod from the tangerine-haired, “I don’t think I’m following.”

Geonhak doubted that they would perform some type of meditation or yoga session, and he really couldn’t think of anything else that he’d need a special breathing technique for – except in the context freediving, but the last incident when Geonhak had mentioned freediving had betrayed that it didn’t seem to be exactly Seoho’s field of knowledge.

After Geonhak had finally fully slipped into his wetsuit, Seoho beckoned him over, and Geonhak lowered himself into the water, Seoho pulling him closer, so he could zip the back of Geonhak’s wetsuit up.

“I want to teach you to breathe underwater.”

Despite Seoho’s statement sounding sober and prepared, Geonhak could only turn around and raise an eyebrow.

“Still not following,” Geonhak declared, trying not to succumb under Seoho’s gaze – it had been so much easier to withstand the absorbance of his ocean eyes while either the dim lightning of turquoise stardust or the faded light of twilight had dimmed the vibrant mix or aquamarine and cyan.

“I mean it,” Seoho insisted, “there might be a way for you to breathe underwater.”

For a moment, Geonhak only blinked at the older, blank expression covering his face, as he was trying to make sense of what Seoho was saying.

Another minute passed during which Seoho waited and allowed his words to sink in, but as Geonhak was still withholding any reaction, Seoho took it upon himself to argue Geonhak into trusting him, “our elders have related myths about an ancient breathing technique that is said to work on those who don’t possess gills for centuries, but since nobody’s ever made an exception when it came to keeping our secret, it has never been put into practice.”

Geonhak opened his mouth and pressed his lips back together like a fish without uttering a word, taken aback by the mere possibility that Seoho was describing.

“I-I mean… we could try?” He eventually managed to articulate.

Becoming more acquainted with the sea and the element water hadn’t been what Geonhak had imagined this day to be about; he had expected more displays of Seoho’s unreality, more corners of the sea that he was yet to come to know, and yet he complied because he trusted Seoho and figured that he had nothing to lose.