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Morning comes early and meanders in through the crack in the curtains slowly, as it always does in the summer. Lasting sunlight in exchange for depriving the moon of its waking hours. It shouldn't feel like opportunity cost, but– it does, and Wu Xi mourns the nighttime anyway, if only because of the way Beiyuan looks with his profile lit by a bedroom lamp's soft glow. He keeps the windows covered longer as if to compensate.
There is a restless energy teeming beneath Wu Xi's skin when he rouses, always sensitive to the barest hint of the light of dawn. The polar opposite of Beiyuan, who could sleep through a hurricane. It sparks and fizzles out of his fingertips when he brushes Beiyuan’s hair out of his eyes, thumbing over the skin beneath his eyes as he dozes away, unaware. Something tugs at Wu Xi’s chest, sinking a hook in through his rib bones and burrowing snugly into his right ventricle, and– I need some fresh air, he decides, carefully slipping out of bed so as not to wake the other. He slides into a pair of flip flops and opens the sliding glass door that leads to a pathway straight to the shoreline. The cobbled walkway gets sandier the farther he walks, and grains of it sneak between his heel and the rubber soles of his sandals, but Wu Xi pays it no mind. The abrasive feeling usually irritates him, but for some reason, when it is wet with morning dew and only slightly warm from a balmy night, it is grounding. It gives Wu Xi something to focus on.
The sun hasn’t even risen in the sky yet, having only poked its head above the horizon to scope out its territory. The ocean seems to mirror his antsiness with the way it throws mild yet pointed waves at the shore. Wu Xi takes off his flip flops, holding them by a finger as he wades into the water until the lower half of his calves are submerged. It isn’t cold– the temperature has been settling at an even ninety during the day, now– but it hasn’t yet been warmed by the waking hours of the world, and it feels like a bath gone cold, one you can’t bring yourself to lug your body out of and drain. The foam is almost reminiscent of soap bubbles, if you were to take the metaphor a step further. Seagulls yell to each other and waddle along the beach beside him, cocking their heads curiously at the motionless human standing there before taking off again.
Everything is balanced here. There are only so many shells scattered and buried in the ground, because if there were any more anything walking here would cut their feet on them. The flocks of gulls and other marine birds are instinctively limited to a certain number per group. When it gets to mid-morning there will be families and couples and solitary people all lounging with their feet in the sand and salt in their hair, but there will never be too many to feel stifled. When Beiyuan and Wu Xi bought this house here it was for many reasons, but one was that this town seems eternally sleepy, forever yawning and barely picking up its feet when it walks. The crabs that skitter along the shoreline, the fish that venture into shallower waters and the ones that people catch before releasing them again, the seaweed that is perpetually tangled around Wu Xi’s leg when he goes swimming– it is all purposeful. There is a place for everything that exists here, and nothing more. Wu Xi and Beiyuan too have hollowed out a space for themselves, and this pocket of reality holds them close when they tuck away inside it as if they’ve always been there.
Wu Xi inhales, a deep breath that pours into his lungs and excavates anything else in its abundance. Exhales out the impulse to dig his nails into his palms and worry his teeth into his lower lip– exhales out this overwhelming urge to do something stupid, something dangerous. Wu Xi can’t even figure out what’s made him feel this way in the first place. He remembers dreaming, though, something green and white and shapeless that rang of déjà vu, and then nothing at all; just an all encompassing void, surrounded by the sounds of paper being shredded by someone’s bare hands. Wu Xi being Wu Xi isn’t the type to pass off all the motion pictures our brains show us as unimportant, but he can recognize that there are many that don’t really mean anything at the end of the day. One that vague he’d usually write off as a random amalgamation of nerve endings, but– it felt significant. It feels significant. His fingers twitch for something solid to hold, like– something wooden, steadfast. A staff, maybe. One with no papier-mâché decorations hanging from it at all.
He places the stray thought aside. The sun has finally heaved itself over the horizon, kicking its legs into the ocean that never slept to begin with. In the distance, dolphins skim the surface with slick grey fins. Never just one; a family, bound by blood or anything else, too. Always alongside those you know.
Wu Xi watches that ball of fire climb a cloudy ladder towards the center of the sky, time slipping through his fingers like the brisk breeze through his hair, still loose. When he closes his eyes, it is dark and black, but there is a pale glow hidden somewhere he can’t make out. It could almost look like a person, if he pursued it further against the backs of his eyelids. Someone sitting with their back perfectly straight, not moving, not speaking. Maybe not even breathing. The wind kisses at his cheeks, and he blinks awake to welcome it. There’s a nagging feeling pinching at his brain, telling him that he shouldn’t stay out here much longer since he didn’t tell Beiyuan where he was going nor did Beiyuan know at all, but. There is Wu Xi’s entomology degree, and there is Beiyuan’s less than legal business practice. Neither have any place here, so Wu Xi is just Wu Xi like Beiyuan is just Beiyuan, and the only thing that matters enough to think about is what to have for dinner tonight.
As if summoned by his aimless musing, soft, almost imperceptible footsteps make their way into Wu Xi’s ear, and he turns. Beiyuan has a shawl wrapped around his shoulders, because even though it’s the hottest season of the year he has always been sensitive to gale, no matter how mild. Said gale has picked up the slightest bit, flowing through Beiyuan’s silky, inkblot hair and fashioning a dancer’s ribbon from it as he keeps having to tuck his bangs behind his ear. Lit by the morning and dressed in pajama pants and one of Wu Xi’s old t-shirts that all but drowns him within it, Wu Xi wants nothing more than to kiss him. Or rip the clothes from his body and ravish him right there on the shore. He decides that he should stick with the former, if anything.
Beiyuan cozies up to him when he makes his way over, loosely wrapping his arms around Wu Xi’s waist and burying his face in his chest. It’s all Wu Xi can do not to sigh fondly– which he does anyway, and circles his own arms around Beiyuan in turn. “Did you sleep well?” He asks, and Beiyuan makes a noise that is neither positive nor negative, then pulls back to speak properly. “I suppose.”: He admits, resting the side of his head against Wu Xi’s breast. “I would’ve slept better if you’d stayed in bed, though.”
It’s not a jab– he’s teasing, but Wu Xi still feels sheepish, if not a little regretful. “I’ll make you breakfast, then, to make up for it.” He murmurs with his nose in Beiyuan’s hair. The other snorts. “You already do that every day. I’d be more surprised if you’d let me cook it myself.” Wu Xi hums noncommittally, but says nothing more.
Beiyuan is the one to break away first, but before Wu Xi can mourn his absence he takes hold of his hand and tangles their fingers together, palms flush to each other. “If you’re going to feed me, then do it sooner rather than later.” He grins, tugging Wu Xi back to the cobblestone path to their humble abode. Their home. “Contrary to popular opinion, I can't actually only be sated with–”
Wu Xi squeezes his hand just enough to twinge, and Beiyuan shuts his mouth but foxlike mischief still plays along his features. “Stop talking and start walking, then.” Wu Xi says, matching his pace then using his longer legs to his advantage and making longer strides. Beiyuan hmphs, but he follows, and it’s of no concern to him if he has to move a little faster to keep up with Wu Xi, because the bond of their clasped hands still holds fast between them. A kind of poetry weaved from the way their fingers fit into the spaces between each others’. A promise to take care of and be taken care of in return.
And Beiyuan’s speed doesn’t really matter in the end, because seconds later Wu Xi whisks him off his feet and into his arms anyway, so it’s fine. His arms wound around Wu Xi’s neck, his face tucked into the crook of it, the notable yet welcome weight of his body bracketed in Wu Xi’s grasp– it’s fine. It feels like home, and it feels like the rest of their lives, so it’s fine. Just a footnote in a storybook nestled in a library somewhere, one dusty from disuse but with love bursting from every word regardless. All it would take is to open the cover and turn the page.