Tidal-Bore

8. Learning Languages

"So... We're going to this sacred place of yours. Alone. Well, with each other. Seonghwa made it sound real ominous." Wooyoung peered up at San, trying to gauge a reaction. The medium was most unbothered, just stalking next to him with the stride of a hunter. His fit form and the sharpness of his gaze were unbefitting of a priest, but Wooyoung supposed any Atlantean had to ensure their survival in their limited surroundings. They put a high premium on health in their cooking and tending to their bodies. Especially their precious medium shouldn't die early of some unnecessary disease.

"Is it within the palace?"

They took the stairs down and strolled the halls the group was led in through. Earlier, Wooyoung had been unable to close his mouth in awe. Now his restless eyes flicked over the walls before they found back to San.

A small, petty part of Wooyoung disliked how much taller and broader the other was than him. It was unfair. Wooyoung would have an easier time pretending he didn't have the hots for the tattooed medium if he was an ugly small gremlin. Not to mention it made Wooyoung's abdomen feel funny with the dull tug of attraction. Because San could do him so well, make him so weak, but that wasn't what Wooyoung had signed up for. He wanted to take the lead and make men drool after him. The power dynamic tilted against his favour, as it had with Seungyoun.

Huffing, Wooyoung shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn't come here to think about that bastard. He hadn't looked at Wooyoung properly in months.

When they emerged from the main door to descend the stairs, Wooyoung grumbled to himself.

"So not in the palace."

He rambled, desperate to fill the void with something. Though he was stubborn to prove to San that he was no scaredy cat, the uneasy feeling in his gut had yet to lift. If something happened, what would he do? If the medium turned out to be a tyrannical cult leader and it was part of their culture to sacrifice the weakest visitor to their moray goddess, then what?

No one would hear (or understand) Wooyoung's scream.

Then again, they took him instead of Yeosang, so that couldn't be it.

Maybe they sacrificed the most handsome visitor to the moray goddess for her favour?

Or he was actually lucky and Seonghwa hooked him up with the hottest dude in the city so Wooyoung could get some quality flirting in. Now he just had to muster up the balls to make use of that time.

"I know how to say hello in your language," Wooyoung boasted before he remembered San knew. And neither did San understand him.

Feeling ignored anyway, Wooyoung jogged by the man's side when his quick stride didn't match Wooyoung's usual swagger.

Wooyoung pouted to himself as he figured out a way to communicate with him. There had to be a way to get his pretty, pouty lips moving. Another outright challenge? Wooyoung couldn't deny how the heat shot to his gut when the man leaned in to ask him if he was scared.

San directed their step straight into nowhere. They left the picturesque white houses and coral reefs climbing between them. A technological wonder, the shell spanned over them; the curve drawing nearer with every step. Would they leave it? Impossible. Wooyoung should be safe so long as he stayed in the same dome as everyone else. The Atlanteans had no way to leave this place, right?

The unwilling tug of Wooyoung's stomach further intensified. He peered at San from his peripherals, feeling nowhere as safe with him as Seonghwa would have suggested.

San said something in Atlantean and, of course, Wooyoung didn't understand. With a confused stare, he climbed behind San, past the boulders leading down to a hilly cliff. Wooyoung's instinct in rock climbing was to leave some space between people so they could find their path and wouldn't hurt another in case they slipped. Ever the marvel, San thought different. He was purposefully slow or waited until Wooyoung was close enough that their bodies almost squeezed against each other on their descent. Twice, Wooyoung apologised for their hands grabbing for the same ledge and touching. San's heat was electrifying, but Wooyoung flinched away both times, feeling his touch might stain the medium.