Chapter Text
interstellar / ˌin(t)ərˈstelər /
adjective. occurring or situated between stars.
☾
jeongguk thinks he’ll get away with it—stealing the star surfer. it’s old and broken down, thrown in a junk pile in the middle of the industrial shipyard that has come to be jeongguk’s playground. he only wants it for some of its parts, anyway; he’s building his own star surfer, one that should be able to go twice as fast as anything that he can get on the market, and for cheaper, too. he’s good with his hands.
he’s good with—this: sneaking around, breaking the rules. stealing is against the law, but that’s just the beginning of it; the shipyard has been privately owned for years now, which means he’s also trespassing. so maybe it’s not a shipyard anymore—maybe it’s not much of anything, not since the shipping industry seemed to decide montressor, his beloved home planet, was on its way out. there are better places to be among the stars, and jeongguk is inclined to agree. but the shipyard is littered with old parts like these: the star surfer is just one of many, along with old ships that have long since been abandoned.
when jeongguk was younger, he used to sneak out to the shipyard and clamber onto the ships, pretending that he was a great captain sailing among the stars. he would imagine himself sailing to other planets, ones much more interesting than montressor—with creatures of all different species and technology even more advanced than what he has here. he would imagine he was his father, or was maybe just with his father, and it would be enough—
anyway. jeongguk thinks he’ll get away with stealing the star surfer. it’s just a metal board with a tiny engine on the back and a solar powered sail, much like other star surfers; jeongguk needs the sail. if the thing is powered by sunshine, then maybe two sails will allow for greater power, greater speed. his mother tells him that he goes fast enough as it is. jeongguk doesn’t think she understands what it’s like to be twenty-one and always feel like he’s a step behind everyone else.
jeongguk inspects the star surfer for any damage, humming a quiet tune under his breath as he does so. there are only a few kinks in the metal, nothing that can’t be fixed with a good hammer to it, and he nods to himself before unfurling the little sail. it’s missing a few scales, but he can easily replace those; once he deems it fit for salvaging, he punches the right button on the bottom of the board and watches it fold up into something he can easily slip into the bag slung over his shoulder.
“star surfer, check,” he mutters to himself, standing up and wiping his knees off. the whole shipyard is a ghost town, and for a moment, he imagines what it must have been like fifty years ago—teeming with ships that hovered feet above the ground, waiting to take to the skies. sailors unfurling the sails, packing up for voyages across solar systems, across galaxies, even. he’s seen it in books, heard stories about montressor in its hay day—and heard about the pirates, too, who ruined the cargo trade from this planet to begin with. they must have been brilliant, too.
jeongguk takes a deep breath, hikes the bag higher on his shoulder. “yo ho, yo ho,” he mutters, turning around to leave. “a pirate’s life for—” he stops, eyes widening. he stares for several seconds, and then slowly pushes his bag a little more behind his back, hoping to hide it.
and then he plasters a wide, wide smile on his lips. “good afternoon, gentlemen,” he says, bowing low to the two policemen standing in front of him—although maybe they can’t really be called men, since they’re robots. very intelligent robots, unfortunately; just ten years ago, jeongguk could have outsmarted them and gotten away with this sort of thing, but advances in technology have rendered the police immune to his charms. that doesn’t stop him from trying, though.
“jeon jeongguk,” says the one on the right, voice surprisingly human-like for a robot. it would be concerning that they know him by name if it weren’t for the fact that the town jeongguk lives in is very small and everyone knows him.
(and, maybe—he’s gotten in trouble enough that it wouldn’t matter if the town was small or not. jeongguk might go so far as to say he’s friends with the town sheriff, simply because they’ve had so many conversations and shared so many cups of coffee while discussing his delinquency. but he has to make friends somehow, doesn’t he?)
“what can i do for you two lovely and not actually alive police officers today?” asks jeongguk, flashing them another charming smile as he takes a small step back. the star surfer he’s hiding in his bag might actually work if he tries it—might help him fly away from here, even if outrunning the police has never worked for him before.
“don’t move, jeongguk,” says the policeman on the left. “what do you have in your bag?”
“my personal belongings,” says jeongguk. “you wouldn’t violate my privacy by making me dump it out, would you?”
“you’re trespassing on private property,” says the policeman. “this is the third time in the past two months, jeongguk.”
“third time i’ve been caught, more like,” mutters jeongguk, thinking of the stash of parts that he has in his room above his mother’s repair shop—it’s easy to sneak them in under the pretence of being parts that his mother needs, and no one takes a close enough look. except—the policemen are advancing on him now, rolling more than walking, and jeongguk’s smile slips off of his face as he realizes he doesn’t really have a way out of this.
after a moment, he says, “i… got lost?” it comes out like a question. even though the policemen don’t really have faces, he swears he can see the disapproval on them. they stare at him. jeongguk stares back.
and then he runs.
☾
“jeon jeongguk,” his mother sighs when the policemen drop him off at the repair shop—after what he likes to think was a spectacular chase, and after what he knows was an embarrassing reminder that if jeongguk breaks another law, they’ll have to send him somewhere other than home when they catch him. he’s an adult, which means he should already be headed to prison, but it’s a small town. maybe his mother is friends with the sheriff and maybe she’s begged for one more chance every single time jeongguk has broken her promise that he’ll be better. but it’s her promise—and she doesn’t speak for both of them.
“it was nothing, mom,” says jeongguk as the door closes behind the policemen and he sets his bag down on the counter—sans star surfer. he slips behind the counter, grabbing the broken watch his mother must have been working on before he showed up. he can practically feel her gaze on his back as he sinks into one of the chairs behind the counter, tinkering with the watch and averting her eyes altogether.
he knows how this goes, anyway. they’ve had this argument countless times—she’ll ask when he’s going to get his act together, he’ll ask when she’s going to let him have some freedom. it always ends with slamming doors and jeongguk getting grounded. they’ve been reading off of the same script since he was fourteen years old and learned how to operate his first star surfer.
this time, though—this time, she doesn’t yell first. instead, jeongguk’s mother joins him behind the counter and pulls up a chair in front of him. when he glances up at her, a small pout on his lips, he sees what he’s seen for years—the bags under her eyes, her skin pulled too tightly across her cheekbones. hair pulled up into a messy bun with strands falling around her shoulders, and a grease-stained apron. she works hard, doesn’t sleep much. jeongguk can’t decide if it’s because she worries about him so much or if it’s because she works twice as hard as she should, but anyway—anyway. the first seed of guilt embeds itself in his chest.
“jeongguk-ah,” she begins, and jeongguk lets out a very wobbly sigh. “i’ve had enough of you acting out like this, breaking the law all of the time, getting in trouble… you’re twenty-one now. you need to snap out of this—this rebellious phase of yours and act like the adult you are.”
“it’s not a rebellious phase,” he says, frowning at the watch as he continues to twist at the little gears. he’s good at this—good at fixing things, good at making things. his mother has owned this repair shop for his entire life, so he grew up with it. it makes sense that he should have a proclivity for mechanics, even though he doesn’t put it to the use that his mother wishes. “this is just who i am.”
“a criminal?” she asks.
jeongguk shrugs. “i don’t want to be here, mom,” he tells her. “i want to do more than just sit on this stupid little planet and work in a repair shop all of my life. that’s not—that’s not a life.”
“that’s my life, jeongguk-ah.”
“and it sucks!” jeongguk huffs, tossing the watch back onto the counter and looking at his mother properly for once. he knows it must hurt—but it’s the truth. he has to tell her the truth. “i feel like i’m suffocating here. nothing ever happens on montressor and there’s so much more out there for me to see.”
“it’s dangerous out there, jeongguk,” she says. “you know that.”
“you said it yourself: i’m an adult. shouldn’t i be able to handle myself?”
“i’m not letting you go out there—”
“i want to see the stars, mom,” says jeongguk, and he’s surprised to feel his eyes fill with tears as he says it—but it’s been so long. he’s spent his entire life staring up at the sky and wondering what’s out there for him. he’s read books, heard stories of travelers who have been to other planets, who have lived among the stars the way he wants to. some people, like his mother, might be fine living on one planet for their entire lives, making do with what they can, but jeongguk wants more. jeongguk wants to experience life outside of montressor, wants to meet new species and learn new languages. he wants to see the universe the way it was meant to be seen—through his own eyes, not just through a hologram of someone else’s memories.
“jeongguk-ah—”
“i want more than this,” he tells her, wiping at his eyes angrily. “this isn’t enough for me, not when i know that there is more out there that i could experience but—but can’t because you won’t let me.” his mother opens her mouth, about to speak, but he cuts her off—“and i know why. i know it’s dad’s fault, but mom, i’m not him. i’m not going to leave you the way he did.”
that’s the root of it, isn’t it—his father. jeongguk remembers waking up as an eight-year-old, remembers the boat at the end of the dock. remembers running and running and yelling out for his father, screaming and reaching and still not getting there in time. his mother used to say that he got his love for the stars from his father, got that wanderlust from him—it’s the only part of his father that she hasn’t tried to pry out of him piece by piece, until he’s something new. (jeongguk knows, anyway—he’s seen the pictures. he’s a spitting image of the man.)
she looks at him for a second, and she looks more tired than ever. “you don’t know that,” she finally says, voice quiet. “once you get a taste for the stars, you never know what it might do to you.”
“that’s—bullshit,” snaps jeongguk, standing up. they’ve had this argument so many times that he knows her side of it inside and out, but he still can’t give even an inch. he huffs, moving around her chair and grabbing the watch as he gets out from behind the counter. “how can you not even let me try?”
“you need to stop dreaming useless things,” she shoots back. “it’s time that you settled down and started helping with the shop properly and built your life here, jeongguk. it’s where you belong.”
and jeongguk—looks at her. he loves her, truly. he loves what she’s done for him, raising him on her own for thirteen years. he loves the home that she’s made for them, above the little repair shop. he loves the desserts that she bakes for him, and the traditions they have for his birthday. he loves everything about her—except for this.
“i’m sorry,” he tells her. “but you can’t make me into who you want me to be. not anymore.” and with that, he turns and grabs his bag, heading up to the staircase to their little apartment.
the thing is—jeongguk knows that it’s hard for his mother. her husband left her with an eight-year-old son and a business to run because he fell in love with the stars harder than he fell in love with her. as soon as her son was old enough, he was looking out of the window, too, wishing to be out there, wishing for more. he can’t blame her for the insecurity, can’t be upset when she’s just trying to protect him. but jeongguk is young, and he’s always had his head in the clouds—or the stars, if he’s being technical. nothing has interested him more than stories of pirates and sailors, of voyages across galaxies. his favourite story growing up was of treasure planet, where an infamous pirate is said to have kept all of his treasure, everything to show for a life spent pillaging and plundering.
and maybe that’s not real—but jeongguk’s need to be out there was, and still is. his need for more excitement, for more risk has led him to break the law only because the laws are boring—he wants to make his own star surfers and take them out to one of montressor’s moons. he wants to meet sailors and drink with them and share stories. there has to be more out there than the little life that his mother has made for him—and he loves her for taking care of him. but he’s twenty-one, and he’s tired of just being jeon jeongguk.
there has to be more. jeongguk knows there has to be more.
what he has here is this: a little room above his mother’s repair shop, with everything he’s ever owned. a little bed pushed against the wall, bed sheets neatly done not by himself but by his mother, because jeongguk always forgets. a bookshelf filled with stories of pirates and dragons, a desk filled with little trinkets that he’s made or fixed up, the work of his hands. a window that looks out at the stars, where he sits every night and dreams. it could be worse, he knows.
it could be better.
jeongguk—is lonely. that’s it, he thinks. he’s lonely. he loves his mother, but he’s dying here on montressor without knowing what awaits him in the stars. if only he could go, if only he could see for himself. he has no future here, as far as he’s concerned; just this repair shop and his mother breathing down his neck every day, trying to keep him here to save herself the heartbreak of losing the two men she loves most. but the stars are calling for jeongguk—and he has to answer.
he has to, no matter what it takes.
☾
when jeongguk wakes the next morning, it’s to rain pattering against the window. with a groan, he rolls in his bed until he can reach over and flip the dial next to the window; with a few turns the glass is boasting the view from a building overlooking a space port, with ships coming into the harbour and sailors bustling down below. and it’s sunny, which ought to put him in a good mood.
it comes to him slowly—the events of the previous day: getting caught in the shipyard, having yet another argument with his mother. it doesn’t sit well with him, how they left it, although it never does. he doesn’t tell his mother that he’s grateful enough, even if it’s true, but they always seem to be butting heads about something. jeongguk doesn’t know how to make her see things his way, though, and he isn’t sure she ever will.
but he knows that he has to make it up to her. so he busies himself with pulling on his work clothes, an old outfit with billowing sleeves and holes in the knees. he doesn’t mind getting them dirty. rainy weather does nothing to deter people from coming in with broken machines, whether it’s for transportation or entertainment. they’ll have enough work to do today, and jeongguk will put his head down and work hard to show her that he can. if she wants him to settle, the least he can do is prove to her that he’s actually able to put his skills to good use.
he’s just pulling on his work boots when he hears his mother calling from outside of his room—“jeongguk-ah!”
“yeah, mom, i’m coming!” he calls back, struggling with one of the boots and almost falling over when he loses his balance. he lets out a huff, knowing that his mother can be impatient when she’s left waiting during work. and he’s trying to be the best son possible today to make up for their argument last night, so the last thing he needs is to show up late even if they didn’t have a designated time—“jesus christ, would you just…” jeongguk mutters, finally managing to pull on the boot, and he hurries for the stairs after checking his hair in the mirror. it’s a perpetual mess, a little overgrown despite the undercut he got only a few weeks ago, but it’ll have to do.
“sorry, sorry,” he’s saying as he hurries out of his room and heads for the stairs. “i was just trying to—” jeongguk stops, though, when he spots his mother not at the bottom of the stairs and in the shop where he might have expected her, but standing at the other end of the hallway. she’s not wearing her usual work clothes, but what appears to be a nightgown, and she’s holding a cup of steaming coffee.
“shop’s closed for the morning,” she tells him with a little grin, and then nods for him to join her. “kitchen?”
eyebrows furrowed, he follows her. she sits at the kitchen table, so he takes the seat across from her, confused at the other cup of coffee on the table, clearly meant for him. it’s not that his mother doesn’t ever make him coffee or just want to talk in the morning, but it’s strange that she’s closed the shop and that she’s acting like this after they’ve fought. while jeongguk may have gotten his wanderlust from his father, his stubbornness is all his mother’s—it’s why they can never agree on anything.
“did you have a good sleep?” asks his mother. jeongguk, still confused, nods as he sips at his coffee. “i was thinking… it’s been a very long time since you started looking out that window at the stars, jeongguk-ah. and this whole time, i’ve tried my hardest to stop you from wanting to be out there, but you’re right, you know. i can’t make you into who i want you to be. your love for the stars isn’t going to go away just because i tell you to stay here.”
jeongguk keeps the mug pressed to his lips, staring at her over the top of it. he wouldn’t trust himself to say anything, so he just sips at his coffee again, still bewildered as to where this is coming from or where it’s going.
his mother shifts in her seat, tugging some of her hair behind her ear. “when you were little, you used to ask me to take you sailing,” she says. “but i was never someone who liked the idea of it. that was all your father—although he wouldn’t take you either. he said it was too dangerous, and it was for a little boy. but you’re not a little boy anymore.” she grins at him, soft and careful. “last night, i thought a lot about what you said—about wanting more than what’s here and just wanting to experience it. and i’ve decided that… it might actually do you some good.”
jeongguk almost chokes on his coffee, having chosen the wrong time to swallow. he quickly puts the mug down, coughing a few times to get the liquid out of his throat before he stares at her. “what?” he asks intelligently.
“living here, you get to know people,” she continues. “and i happen to know someone who used to be a friend of your father’s—they would sail together here and there, and his son is also a sailor. i talked to him about it, more for advice than anything, but he mentioned that his son and his crew are going to be leaving for a voyage in a few days and they should only be gone for a few months.”
she doesn’t say more, apparently waiting for jeongguk to put the pieces together, but he just—stares at her. his hand is holding onto his mug so tightly that he’s almost afraid it’ll break in half, but he doesn’t want to hope, doesn’t want to think that maybe, maybe—
“jeongguk-ah,” his mother finally says, reaching over and taking his hand. “i’m going to let you see the stars.”
and that’s—that’s something right out of a dream.
once he’s calmed down some—after almost screaming once he finally understood what she was telling him, and after almost crying once he finally understood what it meant, and after wrapping her up in the tightest hug he could—his mother laughs at him, just a little. pours him some more coffee, because he accidentally spilled the other in his excitement.
“i’m letting this happen on one condition, though,” she says, and jeongguk vibrates in his seat. “once you come back, you have to promise me that you’ll finally settle down and get a real job and stop all of this criminal nonsense. you’ll stop acting out and begging me to let you go out there, because you’ll know what it’s like. okay?”
the truth is—jeongguk fears that she’ll be right, that once he gets a taste of the stars, he’ll never want to come back. but she’s looking at him so earnestly, so desperately. it’s less about wanting to keep jeongguk in a cage here on montressor, and more about not wanting to lose him the way she lost her husband. jeongguk can understand that, at least. and as much as he’s not sure he can make that promise, it’s the only way she’s going to let him go in the first place.
so he says, “i promise. whatever you want, mom, i’ll—take over this entire shop if you want. anything to let me go.” he knows it might be dangerous, and he knows it might be everything that he wants it to be. but at least he’ll finally get to know.
“i love you so much,” she says, “and i just want you to be safe. but i also understand that you have to have freedom and you have to reach for your dreams, and i don’t want you to resent me if you live your whole life without ever getting to go on a voyage.”
“i know,” grins jeongguk. “thank you. i promise i won’t get kidnapped by pirates or anything.”
“jeongguk-ah.”
“i’m kidding; i can’t really promise that.”
“jeongguk-ah.”
☾
three days later, jeongguk packs his backpack with a few changes of clothes, a notebook, and his star surfer—not the one with two sails, unfortunately, but it’ll have to do. he’s lived the past three days in a haze of excitement and wonder, questioning exactly what the next few months will bring; he’s finally going to see the stars, finally going to sail on a ship like he’s been dreaming of for his entire life. he sees the way his mother watches him in those days—a little fearful, and a little sad, but excited, too. sometimes he catches her opening her mouth and stopping herself from speaking, like she wants to take it back but realizes that this really is what he needs. jeongguk needs to be free.
once he’s finished packing his bag, jeongguk takes a moment to look around his room. he’s lived here for twenty-one years, staring out of that window and wishing for something more. and finally he’s going to get his chance—and sure, he’ll be coming back in a few short months. and he’ll have to give up his hopes of starting over on a new planet, and he’ll have to get a real job that doesn’t involve scavenging the shipyard for parts to use in new inventions.
but that’s okay. jeongguk knows it’ll be worth it just to taste the sky.
at that last second, though—he grabs one of the storybooks from his bookshelf, the one about treasure planet. he stuffs it in his bag, too, partially because he might need entertainment, and partially because he’s always wanted to ask a sailor about it. on the off chance that treasure planet is real, he wants to know about it.
then—there’s a knock at the door. by the time jeongguk races down the stairs, there’s another young man standing in the entrance of the shop. he’s tall, with lavender-coloured hair, and dimples—and a few scars on his neck, peeking out of the shirt that he’s wearing. jeongguk tries not to fixate on them as he approaches, suddenly feeling very small. there’s no real way to know that this man is a sailor other than the clothing he wears and that look on his face, like he’s seen things. like he’s drunk from the milky way and never wants anything else.
“jeongguk-ah!” exclaims his mother. “this is namjoon, the son of the sailor i was telling you about. you’re going to be with his crew.”
“it’s nice to meet you,” says namjoon, holding out a hand for jeongguk to shake. and jeongguk does, feeling even more in awe just at having him standing before him—this is his chance. namjoon is the reason he’s going to be sailing in the first place, and jeongguk makes a mental note to thank him ten times over once they’re on their way. “our ship will be leaving from the polaris space port in a few hours, so we should get moving. i’ll be outside, okay?”
jeongguk nods, and drops his hand, watching as namjoon exits the shop with his own bag hiked high on his shoulder. although he’s just as human as jeongguk—or so jeongguk assumes, although it’s sometimes hard to tell—it seems as though namjoon doesn’t belong here on montressor, where nothing ever happens. it looks like he belongs out there in space, like he’s a nebula himself. jeongguk feels the excitement swell within him, the idea of meeting others like namjoon making him want to go, want to start now, but—
beside him, there’s a quiet sniffle. when he looks, he sees his mother trying and failing to stop herself from crying, holding a hand to her mouth.
“aw, mom,” begins jeongguk, already tugging her into a hug. “i’ll only be gone for a few months.”
“that’s longer than you’ve ever been gone before,” she says, which is—true. jeongguk has never left home for longer than a few weeks at a time, and that was mostly for summer camps when he was a kid. but that’s precisely why he needs to go now.
“i’ll be okay,” he says. “i won’t let anything happen to me. and i’ll come back. i promise.” he knows that’s the root of it; she loves him and she wants to protect him. she’s letting him have this bit of freedom, but she still needs him to come back. and jeongguk could never break that promise to her—not when he knows what sailing for the stars and never coming back can do to the people left behind.
she lets go of him eventually. bids him a tearful goodbye, makes him promise one more time that he won’t let anything bad happen to him. he gives her a kiss on the forehead, feels strangely like he’s going to war even though this will be anything but—and when he and namjoon begin walking down the long road to where namjoon’s little space pod is parked, jeongguk can’t help but look back to see his mother in the doorway, watching him go. he takes one last look at his home, at the one place he’s stayed for his entire life. he can’t help feeling sad about leaving it, even for a few months. but when he turns away, he finds there’s so much more ahead of him. above him, only stars. below him, only stars. inside him—only stars.
☾
the space port is exactly as jeongguk imagined it—just as he’s seen in pictures, just as it is on his window shades. it’s littered with ships at the docks, suspended midair as they wait for the boosters that will send them off into space. there are sailors and all sorts milling about, packing or unpacking ships, trading and bartering with each other—people selling food, last minute items that sailors might need and can’t live without for the duration of their voyage. jeongguk can’t stop staring at all of it, wide-eyed as namjoon leads him through the crowd toward the ship that he’ll be spending the next few months on.
“have you ever been on a ship, jeongguk-ssi?” asks namjoon, and jeongguk is distracted from answering by a pair of cat hybrids that nearly run into him as they chase a barrel that is rolling down the docks. namjoon chuckles, though, reaching out and grabbing his wrist to keep him on course.
“sorry,” blushes jeongguk, tearing his eyes from the nearest ship long enough to see namjoon’s grin. “no, i haven’t. my dad was a sailor, but he didn’t ever let me go on one of his ships.”
“you’re in for a real treat, then,” says namjoon, grin widening until his dimples appear. “although i’ll warn you that it’s not all fun and games. life on a ship can be difficult at times—we each have roles and duties that we have to perform to make sure everything is running smoothly. you’ll likely be a cabin boy, if that’s alright with you.”
“yeah, yeah,” murmurs jeongguk, already not paying attention again as they pass under a massive ship docked beside them; it’s sails are bigger than the repair shop and glimmering in the sunlight, just waiting to be let out. he can see what appears to be government officials on the ship, getting ready for a voyage, and that has jeongguk gasping for a moment, wondering what kind of ship he will be on.
maybe it’s a war ship, something that will take him right in the heart of a battle for another planet against invaders. or maybe it’s a pirate ship—whether one filled with pirates or one that’s trying to track down the pirates instead. namjoon seems like the kind of guy who would work with law enforcement, on a ship that tracks down criminals and leaves them begging for mercy.
it’s the stuff in his storybooks—galactic war, cannons booming and lasers firing. or maybe they’ll be on a ship full of researchers, people who are trying to learn more about different species of animals out of space. they’ll get to observe whales and sharks in their natural habitat, listen to them sing their lonely songs across space. or maybe they’ll be explorers venturing out into a new galaxy, discovering new planets and meeting the natives. he could be famous for it, for being part of this voyage—and the possibilities have jeongguk reeling as he takes in all the space port has to offer, all the different species and ships that they pass by as they make their way to the ship that he’ll call home for a few months.
namjoon is still talking to him—probably about what he’s to expect on the ship, but jeongguk isn’t really paying attention anymore. it can’t be that hard to live on a ship, after all; he’s read enough books about it, dreamed enough about it. he just wants to get out there on the open air, wants to feel the sun beating down on him from here rather than montressor.
“—and yoongi-hyung can be a little prickly at times, but it’s nothing to worry about,” namjoon is saying when jeongguk finally tunes back in. “all of us can be like that, particularly when you have to spend all of your time with the same people. if your dynamic doesn’t work out well, you might want to end up jumping ship.” he chuckles, and jeongguk blinks up at him when he realizes that he didn’t get the first part of the joke.
“right, sorry,” says jeongguk. “who are we talking about?”
“the captain,” says namjoon, and jeongguk’s eyes widen just slightly. of course he knew there would be a captain—all ships have one, whether it’s a pirate ship or a government boat. the captains are always the scariest ones, the ones to avoid. he’d almost assumed that namjoon was the captain, just from the way he spoke, but apparently not if he’s talking like that.
“how big is this boat, anyway?” asks jeongguk curiously, craning his neck as he looks down the row of ships on the dock. he tries to guess which is theirs—maybe that huge one with the massive cannons on the side, or maybe that long and skinny one, which can no doubt go faster than others. “how many crew members do you have?”
“only six,” says namjoon, and jeongguk frowns at him. “we don’t need more than that. we’ve tried adding a few others to our ranks in the past few years, but it just doesn’t work out. we’re like a family, you know? we’re okay with each other.” still, jeongguk finds dread beginning to fill his stomach; what kind of ship only needs six crew members?
and anyway—they keep walking past all of the ships that he was hoping might be theirs, all of the big ones with the big cannons and the big flags. they walk past the crews loading massive barrels and boxes onto the ship, down down down until they get to the very end of the dock.
and—there’s a ship. it’s just… not the ship that jeongguk might have been hoping for.
this ship isn’t a huge one. with only six crew members, jeongguk could have guessed that; its sails will do the job, probably, although there are no cannons on top of the deck to attack anyone who might come after them. there’s no massive mermaid or unicorn carved onto the front of the ship to guide the way. and it’s a good ship, he’s sure, but when jeongguk glances over at the massive warship beside it—he can’t help feeling a little disappointed.
jeongguk stops walking as he stares up at the ship and it’s tiny boosters and the complete lack of crew carrying things on board. namjoon stops a few paces in front of him, turning to look at him with a questioning gaze, and jeongguk summons up the courage to ask, “sorry, but… what kind of ship is this, exactly?”
namjoon grins. “the lupus major,” he says, and there’s so much pride in his voice that jeongguk almost feels terrible thinking that the ship leaves much to be desired. “she’s a cargo ship.”
jeongguk stares. a fucking cargo ship. his great voyage into the unknown, into the galaxy and beyond—is on a cargo ship. no pirates, no government officers tracking down wanted criminals in the far reaches of the universe. no wars, no exploring, no discovering a new animal species or a new planet.
just—cargo. just flying to some dumb planet and dropping off shit and then coming back. that’s supposed to be his taste of the stars, the one thing that’s meant to satisfy his dream enough to help him come back home and stay. jeongguk looks over at the ship next to this tiny cargo ship, looks at how massive and intimidating it is. there’s someone standing on the deck, looking out at the stars like she owns them, and jeongguk wonders, briefly, how much trouble he’d get in if he snuck onto that ship instead.
but then he hears someone calling his name and he turns to see namjoon already onboard the ship—lupus major, and what a stupid name that is for such a small ship. namjoon waves at him, gesturing for him to come onboard as well, and jeongguk takes a deep breath. he hikes his bag higher on his shoulder. he supposes if this is all he has—then so be it. it’s better than sitting in his room on montressor and never knowing what’s out there.
by the time jeongguk gets on the ship, namjoon has already disappeared—presumably to help ready things for the voyage, and jeongguk finds himself standing in the middle of the deck as people bustle around him. the ship is bursting with life despite namjoon being right about the small crew—but they’re all running around, carrying supplies with them and checking the riggings, doing all sorts of sailor things that jeongguk has been itching to be a part of this whole time. it’s as though he’s invisible, though, as the crew moves around him, calling to each other as jeongguk just stands there holding his bag and staring at the ship.
now that he’s on it, it might be bigger than he thought it was. and it’s still a ship. but—still.
“um… hello?” he asks as one of the crew members walks past him; he has bright red hair and he’s carrying a pile of rolled up maps. the man ignores him—or maybe doesn’t seem to notice him, instead calling out a, “hey, seokjin-hyung! did you get those new boosters i asked about?” jeongguk frowns, watching the man go as another calls back to him—this one with pink hair, and the more jeongguk looks around, the more he feels self-conscious about the fact that his hair is brown. everyone on the ship seems to have some brightly-coloured hair, and is wearing nicely tailored outfits with buttons and boots and nothing like him.
“jiminie, make sure you check the main mast,” someone says as they pass him—this one carrying what looks like a bunch of medical supplies. one of his hands appears to be robotic, like he lost it and had to it replaced. “last time, i almost lost my arm trying to keep that mast steady in the middle of a storm.”
“yeah, yeah,” says another man, grinning as he grabs half of the medical supplies and the two of them make their way across the deck. “not like you couldn’t just sew it back on.”
“i’m not that talented with this stuff, you know.”
“hello?” calls jeongguk again, feeling like he’s meant to have some sort of formal introduction; the crew members are running around the ship, preparing, but he feels like he ought to know where to put his things, what he can do to help. namjoon had mentioned he’d likely be a cabin boy for the duration of the voyage, but that means he has to know what to do to perform his duties.
“sorry, jeongguk,” someone calls—he looks up to see namjoon hurrying down the short flight of stairs to the quarterdeck. namjoon grins at him, clapping him on the back as he gestures to the ship. “everything is kind of hectic at the moment as we try to get going. i promise we’ll do proper introductions and everything later, but for now, um—well, that’s hoseok, our navigator and sailing master,” he gestures to the red-haired man with the maps as he makes his way to the upper deck. “um, that’s seokjin-hyung, boatswain,” the pink-haired man, “and jimin and taehyung—gunner and rigger, and carpenter and surgeon respectively,” he points to the two that had just walked past him, one with orange hair and the other with grey. “you know me, obviously—”
“namjoon-ah!” someone calls, interrupting namjoon before he can finish. it’s seokjin—or taehyung? jeongguk can’t remember already. “what do you want me to do with all this rum?”
namjoon chuckles, clapping jeongguk on the back. “sorry, i’ve got to help with that,” he says, already leaving jeongguk standing there in the middle of the ship again. “just—make yourself at home, okay? ask one of them to put you to work and i’m sure they gladly will.” and with that, he’s gone again—the one familiar thing about this ship, even if they only met an hour ago.
he’s left alone again, watching as the others bustle around him. after a moment, jeongguk decides to explore a little—he wanders around the ship, running his hand over the railing and peering over the edge toward the ground; from here, he can see the bottomlessness of space, how it stretches out on all sides of them. there’s a star not far from here, providing them with light, but other than that, it’s just—space. jeongguk has no idea where they’re going, although he imagines it’s not too far if they’re just delivering some cargo. but it’s still space.
jeongguk peers up at the mast, tugs a little on some of the ropes. he has no idea if he’ll get to learn everything about this ship or if he’ll just make him scrub the poop deck all day long, but it’s something at least. and suddenly—when he turns around, the deck is empty and quiet. all of the crew members have disappeared below decks, no doubt trying to ready the last of their things, pack the last of their belongings. for just a moment, it feels like he’s back in the shipyard on one of the abandoned ships and he’s the captain, and this whole galaxy is his for the taking.
against his better judgement, jeongguk makes his way to the helm of the ship, running his hand over the wheel. he wonders if this is how his father felt—this freedom, with all of that space for him to explore. if he felt like he was part of something with his crew, a family like namjoon had said—a better family than his real one, at least, where he didn’t have to worry about taking care of a kid. despite his disappointments with the ship and what this voyage will be like, jeongguk can still feel that same thrum of excitement, that same wanderlust that wants so badly to reach out and take—
“gonna take it for a spin?”
jeongguk lets out an involuntary shriek, spinning around to see someone leaning against the railing of the ship behind him. he hadn’t noticed the man before—or the man had turned up after jeongguk had gotten up here. either way, he places a hand over his chest to calm his racing heart, quickly letting go of the wheel.
“sorry,” he says. “i wasn’t gonna break it or anything, i just wanted to check out the ship a little bit before—”
“relax,” says the man, smirking now as he pushes off of the railing and comes to join jeongguk by the wheel. “i’m not gonna rat you out to anyone. besides, around here… they’re not gonna cut off your hand for touching the wrong thing.” there’s something—different about this sailor, jeongguk notes. his hair is just as bright as everyone else’s (platinum blonde, or maybe a little blue in this light, and he’s got some sort of bandana tied around his forehead like he’s a proper sailor) but he’s not wearing as fancy of clothes as everyone else. he’s got a few scars down the side of his face, but other than that—jeongguk feels like he’s much like him. a crew member, surely, but maybe another cabin boy, a lackey.
it’s this quick assumption that has jeongguk breathing out a small sigh of relief, feeling like he can finally talk to someone while the rest of the crew is running about and being important.
“that’s good,” sighs jeongguk, feeling himself relax as he turns to look out at the rest of the ship again. “do you, um… like it here?”
“it’s good,” says the man with a shrug. “i can’t complain much. i like the stars.”
“me too,” grins jeongguk, digging in his bag for a snack as he feels much more comfortable now that he’s found someone more on his level. once he finds the piece of fruit he wants, he takes it out, rubbing it against his shirt before taking a bite of it. “i dunno about the ship, though,” he adds once he’s swallowed. “it just seems a little—disappointing?”
“disappointing?” asks the man, leaning against the wheel as he looks at jeongguk. “how so?”
“i dunno, i guess i was just expecting something… a little more impressive,” he admits, shrugging. he just wants to be honest, after all. “we were walking down the docks and passing all these huge ships with cannons and a huge crew and then we get here, and it’s like… you know when you’re the last one to open the presents at christmas and all of your family members get these amazing presents and you’re left with like, an avocado? and i love avocados, sure, but it’s an avocado.”
“sure,” says the man. “it’s not a moonwalker.”
“exactly!” says jeongguk, grinning now. “it’s still a ship and everything, but it’s tiny. and it’s a cargo ship. you know, i know i’m just a guest on the ship, but i was hoping that my maiden voyage would to the stars would be more than some pathetic little cargo trip. honestly, i’d hate to be the captain of this ship. the guy must hate himself if this is as far as he can go in life.”
when he looks at the man again, there’s an amused look on his face. jeongguk takes it as an invitation to go on—“i mean, being a captain of a cargo ship is better than nothing at all,” he shrugs, “but i still feel bad for the guy. he’s got the tiniest crew and the tiniest ship in the world. i’m not gonna get my hopes up about any of this, really.” he takes another bite of his food, shrugging again before he turns to eye the man. “i’m jeongguk, by the way. and you are…”
“yoongi-hyung!” for the second time, jeongguk’s attention snaps elsewhere, turning to see some of the other crew members piling out onto the main deck. he spots namjoon, and the others—jimin, he remembers. ho-something rather. but that’s not what he’s focused on—what he’s focused on is the way that they’re looking at him, or beside him.
and the name—yoongi. why is that name familiar?
“we’re all set to go,” calls namjoon, waving a hand at them. “i think we can get going if there’s nothing else we need to check over.” jeongguk—freezes where he’s standing, fruit still halfway to his mouth as the gears turn in his mind and he begins to put the pieces together. he watches as namjoon heads for the helm as well, taking the stairs two at a time before he reaches the pair.
“oh, yoongi-hyung, i see you’ve met jeongguk,” says namjoon, so fucking cheery, and jeongguk shifts his eyes toward—yoongi. yoongi, yoongi, he knows that name. “jeongguk, this is min yoongi.” he knows that name because namjoon mentioned it earlier, because yoongi is the—
“captain,” says yoongi, tilting his head as he looks at jeongguk. “captain min yoongi.”
the fruit falls from jeongguk’s hand. he stares at yoongi—captain captain captain—as he realizes what he’s just done. he just shit-talked yoongi to his face—insulted the ship, the crew, and the captain. and now he’s meant to spend two months on this ship under captain min yoongi’s rule, listening to his every word and trying to give him a reason not to toss jeongguk overboard the moment they get away from the docks.
“oh my god,” whispers jeongguk.
“gentlemen,” calls yoongi, keeping his dark eyes trained on jeongguk for a moment longer before he turns his face away, presumably to address the rest of the crew on the deck. jeongguk—stares at the scar curling down the side of yoongi’s face, at his blonde blonde blonde hair. how could he be so stupid? “set course for zonus. we have a disappointing voyage ahead of us.”
yoongi turns to look at him again, and this time, there’s something dangerous about his smirk—something that jeongguk doesn’t like, something that says he’s about to make jeongguk’s life a living hell. “it was nice to meet you, jeongguk,” says yoongi, already turning to leave. once he gets to the top of the stairs, he pauses, looking back over his shoulder at jeongguk before he winks. jeongguk’s entire stomach drops to the floor. “we’re gonna have so much fun together.”