"Let's go onto land!" You cheer excitedly, grabbing onto Jongho's arm and he looks at you with wide eyes, surprised. You're practically bouncing up and down in anticipation, waving your new arm about, and Yeosang smiles at you fondly from the side. It's the most energetic he's seen you for days. "Come on! Let's go and buy Yunho some grilled squid or something to cheer him up!" Your grin is radiant.
"I'm glad you're so excited about it." Your captain's voice comes from the door and Jongho whirls around to see Hongjoong standing there, wiping the tiredness from his face with a damp cloth, wearing a small smile. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he sees your face go ashen for a second at the sight of your captain before your smile returns, although it seems a little forced. He frowns. "If you want to go onto land, remember to bring Jongho with you."
"Alright." You say quietly, suddenly so much more subdued than you were prior. Jongho and Yeosang exchange looks. What is that all about?
"I heard you helped design the arm." Jongho hears you add on, and your smile is... difficult to say the least, tender but brittle, cracking at the edges. But the gratefulness is your voice is genuine and true. "Thank you, captain."
"I told you, call me Hongjoong." His captain corrects with a fond smile, and Jongho finds himself frowning at the sight of it, wondering if... perhaps... but before he can think too much into it, Hongjoong is already stumbling across the cabin and clambering into his hammock. He must be exhausted from the recent events and steering the ship almost the entire way. The three of you watch him as he yanks his red jacket off to cover himself, before he makes a noise of annoyance when his fingers slip through a couple of gaping holes and slashes in the sleeves and sides. "This thing is falling apart."
"It'll become more holes than fabric soon." Yeosang mutters under his breath sympathetically and Hongjoong groans, burying his face in his hammock so you can see the outline of his features against the rough fabric. "It's going to be so cold soon." He laments.
"We could start a fire on board." Jongho pipes up and Hongjoong scrambles to sit upright, waving his fist at him.
"Are you trying to burn the Treasure like a piece of matchwood? No, Jongho, you shall not-" He nearly falls out of the hammock and you rush to flip his hammock back upright, the suspending ropes swinging dangerously. "That's it, Jongho, you're on bilge bailing duty for the next week-"
"I'm joking, I'm joking." Jongho reassures him and Hongjoong gives him a glare out of the corner of his eye, as if not quite convinced. "We'll be leaving you to your nap in peace now, captain."
"Nighty night." Yeosang whispers, as if he's talking to a little baby and the three of you tiptoe out of the cabin, leaving your captain sulking in the hammock behind you.
>>>
It's a good three hours of more negotiations and steering the ship into the docks before you, Yeosang and Jongho are strolling through the port marketplace, a cluster of white makeshift stalls set up with canvas awnings, selling brightly colored trinkets made from a rainbow of elegantly carved seashells.
"These are pretty!" You exclaim to Jongho, picking up a hair clip made of iridescent blue and green shells, while Yeosang heads down a few stalls to peruse a few maps. Jongho manages a smile, patting you on the head lightly. "Yeah, they are. You want one?"
"Nah, I have one already." You say, patting the silver hairpin Wooyoung had given you resting subtly in your belt, the aquamarine inlaid in the middle still shining clear, the light rippling through the stone like sunlight through the ocean. "It's the only one I need."
"But you don't wear it." Jongho reminds you with a frown and you puff out your cheeks, a little sad. "Yeah, because the last time I did it nearly got stolen. Now, I only wear it on board the Treasure, but sometimes I forget." You shrug, moving back to pick through the trinkets. "It's fine though. I'm not really bothered."
Jongho nods in understanding, moving over to check out some oddly curved daggers, tracing the tip of his finger along the edges. How did people find sheaths for them?
Glancing back at you, he's about to see what you're up to when he sees a group of local children standing behind you, chattering loudly in a foreign language and gesturing to your wooden hand. With a frown, Jongho picks through the crowd back to your side, where you're still looking through the accessories, and takes your wooden hand in his very clearly, before pulling you away from the stall.
"Hey!" You protest, looking at him in surprise as he tugs at you lightly, leading you away from the eyes of the children. "I wasn't done looking at those-"
"Let's go eat some grilled squid." Jongho suggests quietly, pointing to another makeshift stall. There's a man standing over a charcoal pit, turning sticks of squid over the fire and the delicious aroma of spices waft over to you. Seonghwa would love to try these out, he thinks, and you turn to him excitedly, earlier annoyance forgotten. "Yeah, it looks delicious!"
Jongho smiles and follows after you as you hurry towards the stalls, pulling out his money bag. A few minutes later, the two of you are sitting next to the stall, chewing on the springy treat side by side. "This tastes amazing." You tell Jongho happily, and he nods, glad to see that you're smiling once again. "You remember the first time you brought me out?"
For some reason, out of the entire trip the two of you had had, the incident in which you called him cute comes to mind. "Oh, god, don't remind me." He groans, putting his hands on his cheeks and you laugh in delight, clearly remembering the very same incident.
"Don't worry." You beam brightly, ruffling his hair gently with your real hand and he smacks your hand away lightly, taking another bite to hide the colour rising to his cheeks. "You're still cute."
He chokes on his squid. "Hey!"
Your laughter rings out as you lean backwards, enjoying the feeling on the sun's warmth on your face, eyes sliding shut. Jongho takes a moment to look at you, eyebrows furrowed slightly, the same question rolling around on his tongue since this morning.
What's wrong?
He just wants you to be able to answer this question with an honest "I'm okay." Or at the very least, be able to tell him that you're not, and tell him what's wrong so he can help you fix it. He waits, waits and waits, but you don't say anything to break the silence, too preoccupied with finishing your snack and counting the sticks left in the paper bag for Yunho and the rest of the crew.
"Hey, Jongho..." You ask suddenly, and he raises his eyebrow to look at you in curiosity. "Hypothetically... very, very hypothetically... if one of our crew members die, what would you do?"
Jongho's taken aback for a second, before he frowns, trying to read your face but your expression is unreadable, still carefully counting through the sticks of grilled squid and avoiding his eye. Then he turns back to look at the ground, counting the tiny stones underneath the soles of his boots.
"I guess..." His voice is softer than he'd intended to. "I'd mourn, I'd miss them. Then I'd keep them here," he points at his chest, "and move on and live well for them."
You smile, for some reason he can't quite understand. "And if I die? Would you cry?"
"You're surprisingly morbid today." He remarks and you laugh, poking him in the side and dispelling his fears. "And I don't even want to think about it." You poke him in the side again, and keep staring at him. Something tells him you're not going to let up until he gives you an answer, so he sighs and replies. "Perhaps I'd mourn? But cry? I don't think so. I haven't cried in a long while since my parents' deaths."
You beam back at him, eyes soft. "That's good to hear." You say quietly, one hand reaching up to ruffle his hair again and for some reason, this time, he doesn't want to push your hand away and a feeling akin to fear strikes deep in his heart.
Frowning, Jongho opens his mouth to ask a question.
"Why are you asking these kind of questions-"
"Whoa, look at that!" You're already rising to your feet and moving to another stall before he can finish his question and he sighs, shaking his head. You pick up something red and furry, holding it up to him. "This looks so cool!"
"That's fox pelt." He tells you, running a hand along the fur just to make sure. It's soft, of high quality. "It's used to make scarves and other things."
"It'd be warm, wouldn't it?" You muse, picking up the fabric and weighing it in your hands with a tilt of the head, and Jongho raises an eyebrow to look at you curiously. "I guess it would."
"Okay!" You grin, reaching over to pick up a few and comparing them. "I'm going to get a few." Jongho frowns.
"What for?" He asks, and you chew on your bottom lip as you shake each pelt out and check them for holes. "I want to make captain something." You tell him absentmindedly. "It's getting cold and captain's jacket is full of holes, I don't want him to fall sick. And besides," your voice trails off as you look down quietly at the fox fur in your hands. "I want something for him to remember me by."
"You'll always be with us." Jongho says, suddenly feeling a desperate urge in him to make sure he speaks it into existence, a painful feeling clenching in his chest. You smile at him fondly, open your mouth to speak, and Jongho leans in closer, he needs you to reassure him that you'll always be there, be part of the crew, but before you can say anything, there's a grumpy call from behind you.
"I see the two of you have eloped together."
You and Jongho both whip around to see Yeosang stand there, looking remarkably put out, and then it finally hits; the two of you abandoned him at his map stall.
"I'm sorry!" You squeak, running over to squeeze Yeosang's hand and he turns his nose up, refusing to look you in the eye. "Hmpf!"
But Jongho can see the tiny smile playing on Yeosang's lips even as you whine and pull at his sleeves, and what scares him the most is that he can't help but feel like all of this is going to vanish like a good dream in the morning light.
>>>
Back on the ship late into the wee hours of the night, as the voyage to Tortuga continues, you take your pile of furs, a pair of scissors you had borrowed from Seonghwa and your sewing needles in one hand to the main deck, nudging open the hatch to the storage hold.
You pause, wait for the sound of the crunching of apples, but there's nothing except for the silence of the night, the sounds of water rushing against the hull of the ship and wood creaking. You're not sure which you would have preferred, but wordlessly pull your things down into the storage hold with you, hang your lamp from the hook in the ceiling and close the hatch behind you.
The flame of the lamp casts flickering light against the wooden beams and shadows that slip into the darkness before your eyes can catch them, but you only find yourself looking at one place; the tiny corner behind the barrels you had first hidden in when you had first come aboard this ship.
You see it in your mind's eye all over again, how you'd seen Mingi's face for the first time, how you'd broken his nose, how Seonghwa had led you up the stairs with your broken ankle, all of it. You remember how Yunho had watched the sunrise with you, the story of the rings in his hair. You remember every little thing all too well, and perhaps that's the greatest gift of all.
How much had changed since, you muse to yourself, picking up a piece of sacking that has fallen onto the ground with your wooden hand, and yet how nothing has changed at all. Who you are, and who you were before, and who you were before that, you're no closer to any of these answers, and yet, all you know is that you want to stay with the crew that have become your family, to be with them always as the Treasure sails to the end of the world and even beyond that.
"I hope I won't forget that." You tell yourself quietly, even as you settle into the little corner just like how they'd found you, pulling the furs into your lap. "Even if I die, I hope I don't forget all of them."
You place the needle between your lips and work the screw of your prosthetic hand until the silver instrument is lodged firmly between the two prongs. You remember Yeosang's smile of triumph and pure happiness for you when he realised that the prosthetic had worked, remember how the very hand you had lost had held his as you fought to bring him back to life.
You pull out the thread with shaking fingers, remember the way your master's hands held yours gently as he guided the tip of your needle through the fabric, teaching you how to sew stuffed toys made with scraps of old sail to practice stitching. You remember the way you had hurt him and closed the door in his face, how you had reduced him to tears and left him to watch you die.
You don't have time to cry. You have to hurry and finish this coat, before it's too late. You pull the needle from the prosthetic, press it into the fabric. Before you know it, tears are slipping down your eyes as you push the tip of needle into the fur and start pulling the thread through, and the fox fur soaks in all of it, all your pain, sadness and happiness, trapping them within.
"I don't want to just be a memory." You whisper softly into the silence of the hold.
The night is dark, and silent.
a/n: i miss you, wonho