Conversations; All In Blue

Eight

This was bad.

Junhui's heart hammered in his chest as the rhythm matched his feet pounding along the sand as he ran. It was lucky there had been a high tide this morning and the sand was compacted and damp which made it easier to run. He didn't want to risk running through town and looking even more out of place than he already did. He wasn't sure if he wanted his new and tentative friendships impacted by the sight of him tearing through the streets in his old hoodie and jeans with tears threatening the edges of his expression.

He couldn't help but think he was chasing Wonwoo's footsteps. The sand was holding tight to the imprints left behind from the morning and as he ran he noticed a few different tracks. The heavy drag of Hansol's surfboard through the sand was as clear as if it had been drawn out in a diagram. There were light footsteps heading towards his house and a heavy trail leading away. He ran a little faster and began to slow when he saw the antique store up ahead, looming in the distance, it's ancient two storey design holding sway over the whole main street of the village. He'd already guessed that Wonwoo lived above the shop and imagined a cosy little world filled with books and cats and things that felt soft and nice. He wanted to see it.

Cutting ties with Joshua was necessary; cathartic. He knew letting go of his toxic friendships had to happen. A little part of him was afraid of being ostracised, his position in the fashion world as tentative as his grasp on sobriety, but in the end he knew he held more power. He'd keep Minghao, he'd keep Chan, he'd make do with the loneliness and the singularity of a friendless life. His heart skipped a little beat when he remembered he'd have the kitten. A bundle of unconditional love and companionship. An alternative to nights hazy with alcohol and drugs and the uncomfortable warmth of strange hands on his body. A reason to stay home. A reason to stay alive.

"Come on," Joshua smiled as he poured the champagne into the coffee mug. "One drink isn't going to kill you."

It just might though, Junhui thought as he watched, my next drink might be my last.

The smell of it was overwhelming, filling the room in a way Junhui had never sensed before. He must have had some sort of immunity to it before; his senses dulled by years of abuse. Now, in this small town where his nose was blessed with the scent of fresh ocean and warm vanilla, the champagne smelled like poison. Junhui knew one sip would send him spiralling back down a tunnel of self destruction and loathing. It was tempting thought, to drink the champagne, forget about all his problems and fall into Joshua's arms and let the pain of pleasure consume his addled mind.

No.

"Tip it out," he said sternly as he watched Joshua drain the coffee mug. "Tip it out now." "Jun," Joshua smirked as he poured another, "don't be so boring. Come on, just have a drink, we can take it out onto the beach and sit on the sand."

Junhui shook his head. Sitting on the sand was for coffee and breaking dawn, Hansol chasing waves in the distance and the promise of vanilla in the air, quiet conversations that his mind could keep up with and his heart was soothed by. The sand was for Wonwoo. The whole town was for Wonwoo; he was everywhere Junhui looked. He saw him in the waves and the wind, in the sawdust covering his house, in the sky and the moon and the stars. It was all him.