Work Text:
In his defense, he had stayed up late the night before trying to get ahead of himself. To finish the notes for the upcoming lecture he would most likely have to give once the summer was over. Mae had warned him that he was working himself for nothing, and how he still had more than a month to plan. But he had a rush at 11pm and couldn’t stop until 4am shone at the bottom corner of his laptop. It had been a nice experience to just engulf himself in a blank page and let all his facts flow like a stream. It was also nice that Mae had stayed awake with him, offering cups of tea whenever she passed to serve herself another bowl of steaming noodles. But Sol had forgotten that he was 50, ancient like the dusted pages of the first hangul. Like the dark ink concentrated in the lines near his eyes, he was streaked by the passage of time.
So when Mae declared they go to the beach, his body was not even a wink of excited. He had tried to make her change her mind, but when Mae wanted something, she usually got it. Besides, it was the first week of their vacation, maybe he could stay back on the beach chair and watch as Mae slipped through the waves. She kissed him once or twice, calling him a ‘boomer’ and revealed the dark blue bikini she had chosen. The image was enough to make him reconsider, her smirk enough to actually make him stand.
“Fine,” he had mumbled, tossing his shirt into the straw bag. “but only to keep you from drowning.”
Mae laughed, sliding into his side as she pressed her hip against his.
“You sure you can swim, grandpa?”
His ears flushed, feigning outrage when she said that. Mae knew he hated it when she called him a ‘grandpa’, but still she would tease until he was nothing but a red mess.
“I’ve known how to swim probably since the year you were born.”
And Mae hated being reminded of just how much younger she was from him.
She pinched his rib, ignoring his yelp. Between mumblings of revenge and the packing’s of chips and tuna salad, they made their way down the road. With the blazing sun ahead, Sol could see the glimmer in the horizon, a fruitful day awaiting as he parked and unloaded their bags. Mae shone just as bright as the shimmering water, running to meet the waves that crashed on the shore. The sand was warm and soft under his toes, feeling the dampness before the water scattered and crashed against his ankles. The cold was like a balm against his heating body, exactly what he needed against the growing temperature. Mae dipped her hand into the water, splashing on her face so she could get acclimated, a devilish smile when she launched wave after wave towards him. He may have been old, but he was always up for a challenge when it came to her. Willing the water to flow and crash into Mae, he dragged the foam and tossed, catching her in the middle of a laugh. She spat but continued laughing, too high from the rush to stop her attacks.
Considering his options, he decided to launch towards her, embracing Mae in a tight hug and dragging her down into the water. She kicked and giggled: her skin alive with goosebumps as she twisted in his embrace. It was the most fun he had ever had in such a long time. But Mae always made everything worth it, each new experience with her making him feel like reliving his thirties in a new way. At times when reality slapped him hard on the cheek, he wished he had been born later, around the same year Mae had been born. He would wish they were relatively the same age, at least then the thoughts of how he was running out of time wouldn’t hit him so constantly. But when she smiled at him before going to bed, when she stroked his hair with ease and kissed the creases on his eyes, everything felt like it was meant to be. When she simply stared with those big eyes and mumbled, ‘my sweet old man’, he knew this was exactly how it was meant to be.
So he didn’t think twice to chase the waves with her, his fingers slipping around her waist when they were dragged further into the ocean. And Mae laughed so beautifully each time, crouching before hitting him in the chest and causing him to fall. The droplets of water on her skin made the most gorgeous pattern he’d ever seen, shinning bright and golden under the blazing sun. As much as he tried to keep up with Mae, he fell short after two hours, panting under the blazing heat when the water hit him.
“Go on!” Mae shouted, running into another wave with ease. When she emerged, she smiled and waved, rushing him to the shore. “Read a book for a bit, and order me a mojito!”
He waved in response, hiding a mighty yawn as he made his way to the lone beach chair. Sol settled above the soft towel, making sure it would absorb the dampness in his hair. He felt around Mae’s bag, hoping to find a pair of glasses and his chosen book. What he found instead was Mae’s catlike shaped shades, too small for his head and too sharp enough to poke his brow.
It’s fine, he thought, taking the book out and settling back into the chair. His copy of King Sejong the Great stared back at him, the faint beige pages reflecting the sun into his eyes. Sol knew he should’ve carried an umbrella when the idea had popped in Mae’s head. It’s fine, he repeated, straining his eyes to read the text. It was an old syllabus, one he had read back when he was finishing his masters. Even then, he had detested the book with a burning passion; now he could barely keep his eyes open each time he read the same sentence twice. He tried, he really tried to remain awake, but soon Sol realized he could no longer pull all-nighters. His eyes shutting one last time and his mind a jumble of characters and symbols, all perfectly turned and sharp. Hangul in its full beauty as his mind painted stroke after stroke on the purest dark paper. Paper that giggled each time his brush swayed and lifted, specks of gold that danced when Sol finished writing his name.
But the paper soon turned red, alive and painful under his hand. It hurt to breathe, he realized. His limbs too stiff and hot, unable to lift the brush and finish writing. A high laugh woke him from the dream, pitched and coming in gasps. When he cracked his eyes open, everything burned. Mae was next to him in the chair, her hand hovering above his chest, the mere gesture scorched him, realizing that his entire body was aflame.
“My love, I think you forgot to put on sunscreen.”
He tried to sit, but when he pushed himself up, it felt as if he was peeling himself alive. Mae giggled, slapping a hand towards her mouth.
“How bad is it?” he asked, trying to picture just how damaged his face could be.
She winced, her hand flaring as if it were nothing.
“Not that bad.” It was a lie, he was half sure.
“Well,” he croaked, falling into his forearms. “I didn’t plan to fall asleep.”
Mae brushed the hair out of his eyes, a small blessing considering the mere scratch of it felt like a needle. She offered him a small smile, shoving his book into her bag.
“Told you not to stay up late, old man.” He groaned, planting his feet into the sand. “Come on, lets get you back to the hotel.”
He didn’t dare put on a layer of clothing on him, desperate to find himself under a soothing cream. Sol felt like a walking cardboard, sparks coming to life in a hazardous manner whenever his arm brushed his ribs. He needed to make it to the room, barely lifting his face when they crossed the lobby. From the way Mae mumbled and giggled, he was more than sure that people were staring at him. Leaning against the cold metal of the elevator brought a tad bit of relief to him, finally lifting his gaze to see his reflection. A reflection with no other color than bright red; his face crimson and burnt.
“Mae, you said it wasn’t that bad!” he tried to touch his cheek, regretting it immediately when the heat spread over half of his face.
“I’m sorry, Sol. It’ll be fine, it just needs to heal.”
“I’ll get skin cancer at this age.” he attempted a smile, hoping she didn’t take it to heart.
The doors of the elevator pinged, revealing their hallway. He was so close to haven, foot after foot as he made way to their room. In his youth he’d suffered a few sunburns, memories of his mother smashing the aloe vera gel into his hot cheeks. But all he could do in that moment was shuffle behind Mae, trying to strip into nakedness as he made his way into the bathroom. Stiff and itchiness began to claim his body, rushing to the toothpaste as he spread the mint cream all over his arms.
“Wait right there babe!” yelled Mae from across the room, her feet tapping on the floor in a rush.
When she returned, she had the pillow covers in her fists, droplets of water dribbling down her arms. She gave him no warning, placing the fabric to his chest, the cold shocking him into a scream, jumping back on instinct.
“MAE!”
“STAY PUT!”
He couldn’t run in his state, barely making it to the bathroom door before Mae shoved the covers into his neck. Another scream tore, falling to the ground face first.
“Stop being such a baby! You’re fifty!” hissed Mae, turning him to his back at once.
Sol blinked, feeling the cool slide of the rag cross to his cheeks, to the bridge of his nose. It hurt, but the more it ached, the better his face began to feel.
“I’m never visiting the beach again.” He mumbled, defeated as he let Mae press into his body, the cold compressions alleviating the heat that irradiated from his burnt body.
Mae simply laughed, enjoying a little too much seeing him in pain.
“Can’t wait to see you shed like some snake.” The thought made him tremble, a frown settling on his face. Her laughter only grew, blowing on his nose which only made his skin burn once again. “Don’t worry, you got all summer to heal.”
He sighed, defeated and roasted like some peanut on the stove. His only consolation was knowing that Mae would be with him while he suffered; her soft hands and her pretty lips just for him.
“Now you can write that article you were so desperate to finish,” she pressed the cloth to his breast, leaning forward as she placed a small kiss on his lips. A small consolation. “while I go explore the city. I heard there’s this big National Park that’s home to the oldest red oak in the country.”
And like that, he was back to burning all over. Mae giggled, standing to soak the rag again.
It was going to be a long summer.