Where the sea sleeps [HoonHao] ✔

11

The room isn't what he expected.

For one thing, it's small though truthfully speaking, he expected this. It's the beds that take him by surprise. Even Minghao seems surprised when he looks into the room. Rather than giving them a room with two separate beds, it's one giant bed.

"Seriously?" Minghao grumbles. "How daft are they?"

"You do not think the others may have ended up with two beds?" he queries upon catching sight of the frustration across Minghao's face.

Minghao eyes him and steps out of the room without a word. Woozi doesn't need to ask to know that he's going to check for himself in the event that that is the case; he'd definitely want to switch.

He takes a glance around the room which is not much, to say the least. There's a carpet in front of the bed, adding colour to the simplicity of the wooden floors and there's a little table beside the bed with what looks to be an oil lamp. There's no windows or curtains, but there's a cupboard he knows will come of no use to them, situated in the farther left corner. The room is simple and plain; the sheets are solid white, the pillows matching.

It makes him wonder whether his room is the same, if he even had one.

"No such luck," Minghao grumbles, shutting the door behind him. "Looks like we'll have to make do with what we have." He mutters beneath his breath as he takes a seat on the bed. There's no sign of further movement as, for the most part, it seems he'll remain seated that way.

"I see," is all he can say. All he can think to say, really. Eyeing the bed, he contemplates taking a seat; he doesn't want to do so only for Minghao to look at him in a way that would make him regret his own decisions.

Of course when Minghao considers him still standing by the door with an odd, unsettling stare, he musters up a smile and seats himself on the opposite side of the bed which is, by definition, so much softer than he would have expected. It's softer than the bed in the medbay room on their ship and, when Minghao doesn't say anything the next few moments, he decides to lay down with the belief that the conversation (as well as any signs of possible conversation) are drawn to a zero.

He lays his head on the pillow, knees pushed together and body close to the edge of the bed. As the night grows darker, so does the room; they haven't lit the candle for the lamp yet so soon, the little furniture pieces morph into nothing more than shapes.

He's not a big fan of it. The dark, that is. The dark or the shapes and the way it keeps morphing into something else. He doesn't like how he can't see anything unless he squints and more than anything else, he wants to ask Minghao to light the candle. Doing that may reveal his fears, however, and more so than what he needs or wants, he doesn't want Minghao knowing that he's scared.

There's a faint sound he manages to catch with a strain of his ears and slowly, the room floods with light.

It's comforting and the way relief flows through him until he's sinking into the pillow is the most relaxed he's probably felt in the longest time.

"You're welcome," Minghao says when he remains silent. He's confused, because he's positive he hasn't said anything and as much as he thinks about it, he's almost certain he hadn't displayed his feelings to the darkness. He hadn't said anything. So, how could Minghao possibly know?

"I did not say anything," he responds carefully, keeping his gaze set on the ceiling, the faint light bouncing against it calmingly.

"You didn't have to." He senses this isn't the end of his words, so he waits patiently for Minghao to continue. "Body language and atmosphere."

"Excuse me?"

"Your body language speaks louder than your words," Minghao states simply. Woozi can hear the way he shifts his head and the way his gaze falls onto him. "The atmosphere changed the darker it got."

"How do you know this?"

"I picked it up over the years." Another pause in his words, like what he wants to say next is something he's not entirely sure about. He hums for what feels like more than just a minute and then he's speaking again. More than either of them expect. "My dad always told me that I should never rely on my eyes alone. It's a dangerous thing, relying on one sense when you're on the ocean 'cause anything could happen. So, he taught me the basics. Telling me what to look for when someone wasn't speaking and vice versa." His tone has changed drastically from the one he's become so familiar with. It's changed drastically from the one he spoke in just moments before and it's really fascinating. Without being told, he knows that this subject is what is affecting Minghao the way that it is and it's truly fascinating because as far as he could tell, Minghao was private. He never really spoke about topics surrounding anything personal.

Woozi still recalls asking about their families and how quickly he was shut down.

"Was your father a pirate too?" It comes out in a whisper, like he's just as afraid to be heard by the wrong people. He'd rather be careful than speak a little too loudly. They couldn't be sure how thin these walls were or who was roaming around and able to hear their conversation. If they were staying here for two nights, there was no harm in being safe.

"Yeah," Minghao murmurs. "But he was like us. Nothing completely illegal. Actually one of the best pirates I ever knew. He had the best crew too. Started teaching me as soon as I was old enough to steer a ship."

Woozi wants to comment; he wants to comment appropriately, but as soon as the chance finds him, it disappears just as quickly the moment Minghao speaks.

"It must suck not having your memories. Not remembering if you had parents and, if you did, what they were like. Not recalling anything."

As those words hang in the air, he no longer feels the need to say anything. He no longer wants to say anything.

With one last release of breath, he turns onto his side and shuts his eyes. He only hopes he can fall asleep before those words have a chance of haunting him in any way possible.