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Jiung plugs his headphones in, preparing to space out again, stare at the water ahead of him peacefully. As much as he’d like to hop in, his hair was freshly bleached, and he wasn’t going to let the salt water damage it. He sits at a reasonable distance away. Jiung doesn’t play any music; he just enjoys the muted noise of waves, observing them as they crash in silence. It’s all very cathartic. That is, until someone, he presumes, though he hasn’t looked, Keeho, rips the wires straight out of his ears. Jiung clamps his eyes shut and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Just, why?” Jiung asks, opening his eyes and shooting his daggers towards Keeho.
“I was just curious what you were listening to, don’t be so rude,” Keeho shrugs, placing one of the earbuds into his ear. Confused for a moment, he raises a brow, then smirks. “Hey, don’t tell me you think sitting on the beach with wired headphones makes you look cool or something,” Keeho snickers annoyingly.
Jiung rubs his temple and huffs out one more sigh. “Just give me back my fucking headphones, you prick.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Keeho’s eyes widened, before handing them over in the most overly dramatic way possible. “Didn’t know you cared so deeply about your shitty wired headphones like that.”
Jiung grabs them quickly, placing the headphones and his phone into the pockets of his swim trunks. “Why are you talking to me?” Jiung questions.
Jiung can see Keeho’s head tilt slightly in the corner of his eye. “What, am I not allowed to?” Jiung turns back to examine Keeho’s face. There’s a glint of enjoyment, the one he always seemed to have when he acted abrasive. Most of the time, he was abrasive. Jiung watches Keeho’s brown hair blow in the wind, then notices how Keeho’s cover-up shirt wasn’t covering up much, unable to compete with the flow of air. Keeho only used one or two buttons to keep the damn thing on his body; Jiung was sure those buttons would snap at any moment. That shirt was ugly anyway; it would be a blessing if it were lost to a nearby seagull. A basic white shirt with tacky pink hearts all over it. It didn’t match Keeho’s orange trunks at all. Jiung rips his eyes away from Keeho’s chest when he realizes what he was doing. It was hard not to look at his chest when it was that distracting. Keeho’s everlasting smug look is certainly strong; he had definitely noticed. Fuck, Jiung thinks. “I needed someone to volunteer to take beach pics for me… you’ll do it, right? Since you just love to stare at me,” Keeho mocks. Asshole.
“Not as much as you love my attention,” Jiung retorts, not realizing the underlying implications of that sentence. Keeho just laughs, Jiung wants to choke him out then and there. What day will be the day Keeho finally gives up on all this shit?
It had been years at this point since this whole thing began. Jiung lived a very peaceful, quiet life. Everyday, he walked from his parents' beach resort to the water by himself. It used to be his favorite time of day, but ever since a competing resort opened nearby, the owner’s son seemed hellbent on making friends with Jiung. Keeho was stubborn, damn stubborn. Jiung couldn’t count on his fingers how many times he had rejected Keeho’s attempts at small talk or his apologies over the years like ‘it’s not my fault my parents are my parents,’ or ‘im not the one who owns the resort.’ Jiung didn’t care about that, he never had, he simply liked to be alone. No matter how many times he had explained that, possibly as many times as the number of fish that swam around in the nearby waters, Keeho did not relent.
“You’re so cold sometimes,” Keeho says, but he’s still smiling devilishly.
Jiung presses his mouth into a line, “Yeah, guess I am.” he shrugs, “Not someone you would wanna befriend, right?”
Keeho’s quiet for a while, and Jiung wonders if something he said might’ve been too far. They banter like this a lot, but it was hard to put a stop to Keeho’s word flow. He loved to talk for hours sometimes. Jiung would sit silent, staring at the water while Keeho said a whole lot of nothing. Keeho always argued that if Jiung really hated it so much, he would just get up and leave. Keeho liked to act as if he knew more about Jiung than Jiung did.
Keeho’s not smiling when he asks, “You don’t think we’re friends?” Jiung focuses on the expression. He seems hurt, genuinely hurt. A sudden guilt rests on top of Jiung’s chest. Jiung blinks slowly, hoping that the next time his eyes open, Keeho will have disappeared.
Jiung fiddles with the ring on his index finger. “I don’t know,” he answers, like the coward he knew he was.
Keeho scoffs, “You don’t know?” He sounds downright offended. As if this moment was already upsetting enough, Jiung could feel that the wind had blown some sand into his eyes. Jiung rubs his eyes, groaning, irritated at the whole situation. “Sand in your eyes?” Keeho questions, like it wasn’t obvious. It was just like Keeho to be so petty.
Jiung grits his teeth, “No, I just decided to massage my eyes,” he says sarcastically. Jiung doesn’t see anything, but he can feel Keeho grab onto either side of his face. Jiung flinches, “What are you doing?”
Keeho sighs, “Jesus. Can you calm down? I am trying to help you.” Jiung stops squirming, and Keeho cups his face back up in his hands. “Open your eyes as much as you can,” Keeho informs. Jiung forces his eyes to flutter open halfway. Keeho’s face is so close to his own that it’s hard to contain himself from launching backwards immediately. Keeho blows gently on Jiung’s eyes; it’s a weird sensation that feels sort of like his eyes are vibrating, but Jiung does feel relieved when Keeho stops, and he can no longer feel any sand. Jiung pulls back to release himself from Keeho’s hands, not wanting to wait a second more for Keeho to drop them on his own.
Somehow, that had made him feel so vulnerable that Jiung was almost embarrassed to speak at all afterwards. “Thanks,” Jiung mutters simply. Keeho nods contentedly. He turns away and faces towards the water. Jiung takes that as his cue to do the same. The waves are quite strong due to the high winds.
On the other side of Jiung is a pile of his collected findings of the day. He had made a habit out of searching around, picking up certain things here and there, then combining them all into one pile. It was primarily shells, but on luckier days, he might find something more interesting.
His favorite find throughout all the years of this habit was a pair of rings he had found. Jiung doubts that a matching set would have been lost at the same time, so his best guess was that someone had gotten dumped that day. One man’s trash was another man’s treasure, though. He had kept one for himself, but given the other one to Keeho. Indirectly, that was. Of course, Keeho was so seemingly invested in everything Jiung did that he always sifted through Jiung’s “hidden treasures,” as he called them. Jiung had simply placed it into the pile that day. He didn’t need two of the same ring.
Most days, Jiung would round up everything, and Keeho would take what he wanted. Afterwards, Jiung returned everything leftover to the sand where he found it. It wasn’t that he found things for Keeho in specific; he already got first dibs on everything since he was the one who found the items in the first place. It just so happened that Keeho enjoyed the treasures a lot.
“Jiung, I want you to be honest,” Keeho starts. Jiung prepares himself for some nonsensical rant that Keeho would expect feedback on at the end. Gossip about his friends and why he was ‘actually in the right.’ That isn’t what Keeho continues on with, though. “If you don’t see me as a friend, then what are we?” Jiung’s body is stuck, unable to turn to look Keeho in the eyes, though he can feel Keeho looking right through him. “If you say, ‘I don’t know,’ again I’ll just take it as my sign to get up and go,” Keeho states. Jiung’s jaw locks in place. The sound of the waves crashing down is all he can hear. Jiung wants to put his headphones back in and tune it all out. Tune out his thoughts, tune out Keeho, tune out everything. Jiung swallows dryly, as if the sand had clogged up his throat, as if that’s why he was unable to speak. “Not gonna say anything?” Keeho pauses for a few long moments more, giving Jiung an opportunity to say something, anything at all. Jiung can’t, he can’t even turn to see Keeho’s face as he sighs so disappointingly. “I love you,” Keeho admits. Jiung swears that, in his entire life, he’s never seen a wave so big. “I’ll leave you alone now,” Keeho says.
Jiung, finally able to escape from his trance, turns around as quickly as he can to prevent Keeho from leaving. Keeho’s already stood up to leave, and Jiung practically lunges forward to be able to grab onto his legs. Keeho looks down, his face stained with tears. The weight on Jiung’s chest is like an anchor; he drops so deeply into the sand, Keeho’s almost brought back down with him. “I’m sorry,” Jiung begs. Those waves, those fucking waves are so loud. Jiung’s head is pulsating in the rhythm with the continuous crash. His throat’s so dry, his eyes are so wet.
“Jiung…” Keeho mutters under his breath.
“I’m sorry–” Jiung sucks in his own sob, “I’m sorry, please don’t go,” he pleads. Keeho bends down to grab Jiung’s arms, removing them from his legs, then leads Jiung to stand. Jiung wobbles, feeling that it might be his first time standing on two legs. Keeho’s arms wrap around Jiung, and embarrassingly enough, he’s no longer able to prevent himself from breaking out into full-blown tears. Keeho raises one of his hands to support the back of Jiung’s head, placing him between the crook of his neck. Jiung’s whole body trembles against him.
“Hey, it’s ok,” Keeho assures, petting Jiung’s head. Jiung is so ashamed he’s not sure he’ll be able to come back from this, like ever. “I’m not going anywhere,” Keeho says. Jiung nods. He lets himself indulge a bit in Keeho, wrapping his own hands around Keeho’s shoulders.
“I love you too,” Jiung confesses.
Keeho’s grip tightens around him. “I know that now. I’m sorry I made you say it before you were ready.”
Jiung shakes his head against Keeho’s shoulder, “Don’t say sorry. This is my fault.” If Keeho had waited for that long, he would’ve waited his entire life.
Jiung pulls back, analyzing Keeho’s face again. Like a buoy drifting with the current, Jiung floats towards Keeho’s face mindlessly. Catching himself, he chains himself down stubbornly into the sand. “What is stopping you?” Keeho questions. Jiung blinks absently. Keeho hums, and perhaps he’s truly a siren, Jiung begins to wonder, as he begins to float again. The feeling is familiar, Jiung can place it as soon as it begins. The calmness of staring mindlessly at the water, cathartic, peaceful, it all washes over him at once.