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The water is cool this time of day.
Vector isn't sure if he could even call the ever-present time that drags by on Barian World day or night , what with the sun never faltering for even a split second, but no matter what unchanging clock continues to tick on in the background, the ocean waves still crash against the rocky shore. The sea looks almost purple in the light of their forever-eclipsed sun (or moon? Vector's never sure) as opposed to its usual bloody hue, and as the water licks up his thighs and waist Vector dips a hand into its depths, just barely. When he draws it out again, his pinky is missing, and little by little, the remaining digits begin to rot and decompose, until all that's left is a bony stump. The decay works its way up his arm next, drawing fracture lines over his bicep and reaching, grabbing with outstretched hands at his neck, squeezing when they find purchase so, so wholeheartedly that Vector thinks he might cry before he begins to suffocate, stony coral growing and nestling into his windpipe until all he can taste is blood--
Fading back into reality is always hard to disguise, but Vector manages. Life comes into focus with the sun in the sky overhead shining down at the umbrella he finds himself lazing under, its bright, blinding rays a harsh contrast from the almost welcoming darkness of Barian World still lurking in the recesses of his mind. "The ocean is blue." Vector mutters to himself, digging his fingernails into his forearms. "The towel is purple and green. The cooler is red. The fucking umbrella is blue." He takes a breath, deep and shuddering, thanking his lucky stars Yuma always takes forever when he runs to the bathroom like he did a few minutes ago. It was only a blessing that the nearest portable toilet was a hearty walk back to the entrance to the beach.
He dislodges his fingernails from his skin after a few more shallow yet slow breaths, and grimaces at the blood he's drawn from two of the crescents where he'd scratched too hard. He wipes it away and ends up only transferring the fluid to his palm, which he then wipes on the rumpled beach towel spread out beneath him. A seagull squawks in the distance, and another squawks back. Vector closes his eyes, allowing the gentle breeze to swirl and wrap around him like an embrace more fleeting than tangible, but an embrace nonetheless. The waves mosey up and down the shore, washing seashells and sand away beneath its deep blue-green foam.
Yuma comes back eventually. He had to at some point, yet Vector still mourns the solitude.
"Are you okay?" Is the first thing he asks, stretching out like a cat sitting in an afternoon sunray on his own towel, one with an illustration of ESPer Robin printed on it. Does he really need to spend his allowance on something the actor would give him for free? Vector nods, choosing not to answer out loud as he grabs a can of juice from the cooler. He guzzles half of it in one go, and Yuma, the boy too calm and deductive for someone who's tried to save Vector not once, not twice, but multiple times, looks at him with that expression he wears when Vector does anything that implies he isn't doing 100% perfectly fine. Yuma looks at him, with his face reading are you doing alright and what's wrong and can i help and let me help and please let me care about you all at the same time, and suddenly Vector is a child again, and his father brings his whip down against his mother's back as she curls around him if only to be a meat shield, and she murmurs to him it's okay. mama is here, don't cry. mama is here.
He reaches out to grab his drink again and gulp down the rest, but his hand is shaking and he ends up knocking it over instead. He watches the sand turn brown with saturation as dyed blue juice pours out onto the grains, and Vector is helpless to stop it. Yuma keeps looking at him with too much worry coating his gaze. Too much worry for eyes fixed on Vector. In the distance, a bird sinks its talons into the water and retrieves a fish for lunch.
The heat is almost comforting, even when it gets to be overbearing because Yuma can't ever keep his hands to himself. Vector allows the other to sprawl on his back and pillow his head on Vector's lap, if only so he can try and focus on the sensation of Yuma's hair in the spaces between his fingers. He sighs contentedly at Vector's aimless grooming and allows his eyes to slip shut while the latter zones out again, eyes glazing over with vague recollections in the direction of the sea before them. At some point his legs start to fall asleep from where they're tucked beneath him, but he doesn't move, not wanting to disturb Yuma's peaceful half-nap. It's the least he can do, after everything.
"Come back." Yuma says, slicing cleanly through the muddled memories clouding Vector's head, and when the latter looks down he sees that Yuma's opened his eyes, gazing at him with the same concern as before. Vector snorts in a show of nonchalance. "I'm right here." He mutters, but his tone holds no malice.
Yuma reaches a hand up and twirls a lock of frizzy orange hair between his thumb and forefinger, making Vector's heart skip a beat despite himself. "You weren't a second ago." He says simply, as if it's completely fine and normal to have Vector memorized to the point he can tell when the other's having a flashback, no matter how severe. And it is fine, which is why Vector can't find it in himself to sneer. Yuma would see through that, too.
Instead, he turns his head and sticks his tongue out at Yuma's hand as if he's going to lick it. Yuma smiles at the playfulness of it, dropping his arm back to his side and lacing his fingers together on top of his torso. "Don't go where I can't follow, Vector." He murmurs, his volume insinuating he's more talking to himself than the other, but Vector flushes nonetheless. "Then try and keep up." He bites out, trying for venom and ending up with something more akin to a promise. Yuma smiles again, a gentle upturn of the corners of his lips, and lets his eyes close again as Vector returns to running a hand through his hair. A crab skitters across the sand, soon disappearing into the seafoam lapping at the shore, and what appear to be dolphins skim the water's surface on the horizon. The sun hanging in the sky above shines brighter than any eclipse could hope to.
Don't go where I can't follow.
You're so stupid, Yuma, Vector thinks to himself. How could I ever hide from you?