『 whenever you’re ready 』
hsjiseong:
[ . . . ]
“picture a wave. in the ocean. you can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. and it’s there. and you can see it, you know what it is. it’s a wave.”
jiseong smiles as he drops down next to the man, staring straight ahead at the way the sky meets the water.
“and then it crashes in the shore and it’s gone. but the water is still there.” jiseong turns to hold his gaze. “the wave was just a different way for the water to be, for a little while.”
“it sounds sad, doesn’t it?” jiseong continues, drawing his knees to his chest, propping his chin on top. “but its how sand is made and sea glass. the efforts of infinite waves. doesn’t jeju remind of you that, daewon hyung?” jiseong asks in lieu of how have you been? or it’s nice to see you again. because it has been far too long since this name has rolled off his tongue. and there’s a connectedness and a sense of belonging he still can’t shake.
( and can only hope daewon feels the same. )
Daewon’s sneakers are forgotten behind him, fallen sloppily on their sides with his socks poorly balled up, shoved inside. He sits close to the fetal position, feet leaving an imprint on the damp sand, just a couple inches short of reaching the waves. It smells strongly of salt and, is that rain? The cloudy sky makes for cool weather on Jeju, not at all diminishing the beauty of a great, cerulean sea.
He wants to think of something - seek for reflection, pick out what part of him is wrong and turn it over in his mind’s eye. His inner world is blank, thoughts replaced by the lull of the ocean. The wind pushes forth, the water curls into white peaks, it crashes onto the beach and recedes like a beast taking a breath. He digs his fingers into his thin, olive jacket, goosebumps rise where there’s holes in jeans and he sighs, slowly, slumping onto his knees.
Then he hears him, a disembodied voice, familiar and so much so that he first thinks it’s his inner voice. But the monologue teases something in the recess of his brain. It yanks a memory out and then his thoughts are all camouflage, neon lights, amber yellow. He’s at the ocean, yet for some reason, he smells gunpowder.
Daewon moves only slightly to look at the man that joins him, sitting in the same way with that comforting, melancholic tone. He stares into his gaze, holds it, and a bell rings in his ear. Like a morning alarm - no, the morning alarm. Jiseong. His heart stumbles and he remembers, the memories disjointed but vivid. Jiseong, that boy - no, man - was like an oasis in the army which was otherwise intolerable. Suddenly, without warning, they meet again. It took all of his self-restraint to not pinch himself and confirm that he wasn’t dreaming.
“Are you saying that Jeju is like Hell?” he replies humorously, the edges of his lips curling into a smirk. He remembers watching that now, too, and the jokes they made and, man, how they used to laugh.
Daewon curls his toes into the sand and anxiety pricks at his gut; it’s surreal, seeing Jiseong beside him on Jeju. It’s almost as if he slipped through time, arriving several years earlier, back when they talked over beer and fried chicken. “Is that really you, Jiseong?” he asks, quieter now, not looking away from his friend. The torrent of emotions continues to rise within as he stares at Jiseong and realizes, scaring himself, that in this world Jiseong is now his closest friend.
“We’re not dead or anything?” he continues and, truly concerned, he reaches forward. Daewon touches the top of his head and ruffles Jiseong’s dark hair like he would back then when he was tipsy enough to show that kind of open affection. His hair is soft, reaffirming him that yes, this is reality.
