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Taeyong screams into the night. His voice is carried over the ocean, getting lost in the darkness ahead. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, but they aren’t providing any relief or comfort. With fingers curled into fists and body trembling under the northern wind, Taeyong keeps his eyes on the horizon.
Never in his wildest dreams did he think his last year in the university would go like this. Even the worst nightmares dispersed into nothing once he awoke. Yet now, it seems like he will never wake up again. It feels like he will forever be stuck in the world filled with anguish and betrayal.
He cries out again, voice breaking and causing him to cough. He grips on his chest and bows his head, the sandy beach blurred by the tears. His knees give up on him, letting him drop. The upcoming wave crashes against him, soaking his clothes and cooling his skin.
His mind is spinning with the events of the past weeks. They’re slowly merging into one, not allowing him a moment to figure his thoughts out and solve the problems on his own. The voices inside his head are screaming, the feeling clawing at his skin and tearing him apart.
His hands fly to his head, gripping hard on his hair and pulling. He screams again, trying to outvoice them and gain a bit of control. For a short while he hears only his voice, but they’re back the moment his cry dies out.
Breathing.
They said breathing helps. Inhale for three seconds, hold it for another three seconds, then exhale by doubling the time of your inhale. Bullshit. Taeyong has tried it many times. In his room when his own head became too much. In the classroom before a stressful exam. In front of a mirror after he got ready to go out. It never helped. Not even once. He told himself he’s doing it wrong, he tried to reason with himself.
“Just focus, Taeyong,” he’d whisper to himself, “just breathe.”
Bullshit.
If nothing, it made him feel even more miserable for not being able to control such a simple action in his life. As if everything else falling apart wasn’t enough.
He tried distracting himself by doing things he used to enjoy. He’d study English in the wee hours in the night when he wasn’t able to fall asleep. He’d pick up a pen and paper and sketch a plant sitting on his desk. He’d put earbuds on and dance to the beat of whatever song came on.
Sometimes, distractions help. Sometimes, it’s all he needs for a little breather. But the moment he loses focus, it all comes crashing down. Just like the waves before him: cold, constant and ruthless.
Taeyong shifts until he sits down onto the wet sand. His ass is freezing but he doesn’t care. It’s the most sensation he’s felt in a while. The tears slide down carelessly, his chin nestled at the top of his knees. He hugs them close and gently rocks himself back and forth, mind desperately searching for comfort.
“So what are you gonna do about it, Taeyong?” He asks himself, smiling like a madman. “What are you gonna do about your life, huh?”
No answer comes his way. Not that he expected one anyway.
“You haven’t started on your assignments which were due last month. You haven’t even been to the classes to know what’s going on,” he lists the troubles of his mind out loud, gazing towards the sea. “You lost your mother, your boyfriend won’t talk to you… I’m pretty sure the boss fired your ass…”
He laughs and wipes the tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. The wind brushes through his lilac hair and a shiver runs down his spine.
“Fucking asshole…” He mumbles bitterly and grabs a handful of sand. He squashes it firmly, listening to the grains of sand grinding together. “Fucking prick… Leaving me now when I need him the most.”
He tosses the small ball of sand towards the sea. It crumbles on its flight.
“I’ll be with you forever, he said,” he murmurs, grabbing another handful of sand, “I’ll take care of you, he said. Asshole!!!”
He kicks his bare feet against the sand, sending it flying around him along with droplets of water. The tears keep falling, blurring his vision again and angering him further.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep!” He yells, his chest burning. “You liar! Lied into my face for five years!”
He screams in frustration again, his head spinning as the wound in his chest reopens again. He kept it buried for so long, hoping it mended through the weeks of keeping it sealed. But he should have known better. It’s too short of a time and he’s always been too passionate about things and people. Getting hurt and abandoned countless of times taught him nothing. The only thing he knows is that it’ll get better. With time, it’ll be better. He just cannot wait for that period of healing to end so he can start living his life again.
It’s too hard focusing on anything. Each time he grabs his laptop to get things done, his mind runs to the asshole and he gets angry and sad at the same time. Chocolate helps sometimes. But he’s grown sick of it, as preposterous as it sounds.
There are too many things in his life reminding him of his lover. Too many things he wishes he could throw away but knowing he could never. Those things have become a part of him as well, a part of his growth of which that motherfucker happened to be a part of. Books, photographs, clothes, music… If he were to throw all those things away, he wouldn’t know who he is anymore. If he were to throw all those things away, he would lose a part of his soul with them.
“Maybe it’s me…” He whispers, the idea suddenly hitting him. “Maybe I was too clingy, too emotional, too… something…”
“No, it’s not you.” A stranger drops onto the spot next to him. Taeyong startles, scrambling away from the intruder and staring at him with wide eyes.
The man gently takes the joint from his lips and blows the smoke. It curls above their heads in thin swirls, floating far away. He turns his gaze towards Taeyong, soft smile gracing his lips.
“The guy does seem like an asshole,” he says. “People shouldn’t change like the weather, man.”
Taeyong stares at him bewildered. He wonders just how much of his crazy induced monologue he’s witnessed. The only thing he knows, though, is that he wishes to just disappear like the joint the man is smoking.
“I’m Yuta.” He says with a smile.
A gush of cold wind ruffles Yuta’s long blond locks, making him seem every bit heaven-sent. His gaze is fierce, a metal piercing decorating the side of his nose. Taeyong has never felt so speechless in his life. Even the screams in his mind have silenced for a while.
Yuta watches him long. “Want some?” He offers him the joint.
Taeyong knows he shouldn’t. Especially not from a stranger whose lips could have been lord knows where. But he takes the joint anyway and takes a long drag, unsuccessfully shutting off the thoughts of where Yuta’s lips have been.
“I’m sorry about your mother, by the way.”
Taeyong silently passes him the joint back, his suspicions confirmed. The guy has probably been around through his entire self-to-self conversation. Now he’ll seem the psycho he hopes to avoid.
“…thank you.” He manages, averting his gaze towards the ocean again.
Yuta takes another drag before passing the joint back to him. “You know,” he starts, “you can tell me whatever you want. The chances are, we’ll probably never meet again so might as well get some burden off your chest.”
For a reason he yet doesn’t understand, the thought of never seeing him again saddens him. But as he slips the joint between his lips and takes another long drag, he feels himself relaxing and his tongue untying.
So he tells him. He tells him everything. About how he cannot focus on homework. About how his mother passed away a couple of months ago. How his boyfriend subtly began ignoring his calls and texts a few weeks ago. He speaks with so much anger it borderlines passion. But Yuta listens, not once interrupting him except for the passing of the joint.
By the time Taeyong is done, the joint is long gone. A small amount of burden is gone with it, and Taeyong feels like he can breathe easier. He leans back on his elbows and looks up at the starry sky. Despite the cold, the sky is clear and the moon is shining bright enough to distinguish two figures on the beach.
“Let’s go.” Yuta says for the first time after Taeyong’s rant.
“Go where?” Taeyong furrows his eyebrows and looks up at him.
Yuta is standing up, taking his jacket and shirt off. He tosses them onto the sand and works on his jeans next.
Taeyong’s eyes go wide. “Wait. What’s going on?”
“You too.” Yuta glances at him over shoulder. “Unless you want to soak your clothes.”
“They’re already soaked but…” He looks away when Yuta peels his briefs off and joins them on the pile.
“Come one, dude.” Yuta grins at him, his blond hair dancing on the wind. “Live a little!”
Taeyong’s eyes go even wider when Yuta runs into the freezing ocean. He listens to him yelp and scream, but when he turns around to see if he’s following him, Taeyong can only see pure happiness in the moment.
His feet move on their own accord. He strips in the speed of light and runs into the ocean, passing by a squealing Yuta whom he splashes in the process.
Taeyong dives in, his whole body screaming at him to get out and warm up. His muscles contract, making the whole process of swimming a whole lot more difficult than usual. But he dives out with a smile that could light up the night. He shakes the hair from his eyes and hurries to Yuta.
“You look more handsome with a smile on.” Yuta grins at him, doing his best at keeping his teeth from chattering and failing miserably.
Taeyong snorts and smacks him over the shoulder like they’re good buddies. “Let’s get out before we freeze to death.”
“Mmhmm.” Yuta nods and hurries towards the shore, Taeyong following soon after.
With fingers trembling, Taeyong barely manages to pull his clothes back on. Although once he does, he has no idea why he even bothered. The cold wind slips easier through them now, biting at his bones and turning his muscles to stone.
“You didn’t tell me your name.” Yuta chimes in, keeping the jacket tight around his shoulders.
Taeyong looks at him, equally gripping onto his hoodie. “Taeyong.”
Yuta smiles. “Well Taeyong, mind if I treat you to some hot ramen?”
The mere idea puts a smile on his lips. “Sounds great.”
Yuta’s smile widens and he tilts his head in the direction he chooses, gaze not once dropping from the other. Taeyong knows it makes absolutely no sense, but for some reason, the cold wind seeping through his clothes doesn’t seem as cold anymore.