In Only Seven Days (janiel)

Tuesday

Tuesday I saw him down on the beach,
I stood and watched a while,
And he looked and smiled at me...

Haeundae beach. In one word, Jaeyeol would deem it 'enchanting'.

Pressing one foot, with flexed toes and perfectly trimmed nails on each, into the sand, he sighs into the salt of the air. It's been—how long has it been? Probably a few years or so—since he's stepped onto a beach, let alone near any body of water.

Tugging at his watch, he hesitates to take it off. He's worn it for too long now—and has unfortunately gotten used to it.

But it's his father's, passed down for generations now, all so he could wear it on his wrist with pride. How dare he risk breaking it?

He unbuckles the wristwatch, paces back a few steps to his car and places it into his bag, keeping it hidden from sight underneath a pile of raggedy blankets. It's not like he needs to bring anything along with him. It's just the beach. He's only here for the water, anyway.

Jaeyeol takes small, tentative steps onto the white, powdery plains. It's strange—he's the CEO, the son of the chairman of H Group, renowned and admired—yet here he is, afraid of the expanses of sand that used to so readily accept him. Is it the sand that's changed, or is it him?

He's become too accustomed to city life, it seems. Jaeyeol begins his trek across the beach, stumbling awkwardly as each footprint sinks deep into the ground, only to be filled again once he leaves it, as if he had never been there in the first place. The beach may have a fading memory, but it's honest and forgiving. For that, he could never be thankful enough. There's no mistakes to be made, no people to bother with. For once, he can be alone and happy.

The landscape is beautiful—with blue-toned buildings, white and turquoise decorating the near skyline. Just him, water, and the sand, for as far as the eye could reach.

But then there's a giggle in the distance. Jaeyeol glances over, and—

It's a kid, looking to be no more than six or seven years old. There's no one around, it seems, as he turns to scan the beach. He...

Jaeyeol almost considers walking over to swoop the kid up and call the cops to keep him out of harm's way. The ocean is kind—it always has been, especially to himself—but it can also be blind. Its rhythm, as beautiful as it is, has destroyed many throughout its lifetime. Any kid like this would make no difference.

As if the world were teasing him, a sudden voice breaks his suspicious silence. There's a couple that comes strolling down the beach. The taller one, with long braids that cascade down their back, calls to the child.

"Sweetie! Come here, I don't want you getting too close to the water..."

The person scoops up the kid and carries him over, protest-free, to their partner.

Jaeyeol sighs, relieved. That's one less problem he has to worry about now. It's just him and the ocean, once again. Rolling up his pants, he treads onto the border in between water and land, the darkened outline of sand that traces the banks, oscillating between beach and ocean territory. Jaeyeol waits, digging his toes into the moist ground below him as he anticipates the receding wave of water.

It's just a little bit—only enough to barely cover the top of his foot—but it's startlingly cold, enough of a shock for Jaeyeol to take a sharp breath of surprise. He waddles a little farther in, just a half a meter at a time when he feels comfortable enough to continue. Each bit of skin the water kisses only makes Jaeyeol further reconsider getting himself wet—but there's no real regret in his contemplation. The ocean is a friend; always has been.

For a while, all he does is stand, waist deep in the water, examining the horizon and its melting shades of cerulean and periwinkle. It's a bit late now—he hates being at the beach during the night—but there's a strange tug in his chest that begs him to stay. It's not like he has anywhere else to go, anyway. Would it really kill him to just stand a little longer? The water's warm, the sky is breathtaking and clear—

And there's another voice, just a little while down the beach. Laughing, once again. This time, however, there's a certain melody in it that Jaeyeol just can't ignore. His head turns involuntarily to look for the source.

There's a man standing there, bent over the ground as he combs the sand, picking up peculiar rocks or shells or something of the sort. Dark, sweeping hair falls in soft waves over his forehead, and Jaeyeol can't help but stare. Rude, he knows, but—

'What a beautiful stranger...'

Just as Jaeyeol's attention is drawn to this bending man, he picks himself and his treasures up, stuffing whatever it was he gathered into his pockets, and walks away.

The waves quieten for a minute, as he watches this stranger leave. It's as if—as if he were—

In an effort to catch the retreating form—where this burst of courage or extraversion came from, he didn't know—Jaeyeol pushes his way out of the wave's path, forcing his legs to work against the current, and—

There's a divot in the sand, one that Jaeyeol somehow happened to stick his foot into as he raced his way out. A yelp escapes him, scratching at his constraining throat as he tumbles face forward into the salty wave underneath him.

Turning a furious red, he scrambles to push himself up. He has to open his eyes—quickly, before the stranger disappears. It may have only been a first glance, but—Jaeyeol refuses to let him slip past his fingers so easily.

He stumbles onto two unsteady feet, one hand rubbing at his eyes in an effort to rinse them of the stinging water that coated them, and the other brushing back his fringe that still—even after dying it back to black—hangs low over his eyes. It's not that he wants to keep them hidden so much as it is a constant habit. In high school, he had been deathly afraid of letting himself be vulnerable. Now, it's nothing more than a subconscious comfort after spending so many years with the same hairstyle.

Squeezing his eyes closed once more in hopes that when he opens him the stranger would still be there, Jaeyeol combs his hair back. He hasn't worn it like this since...since his socialite mother's last reception, probably.

To his relief (and humiliation), this beautiful stranger had been watching him as he struggled, turned three-quarters of the way around to look at him, seemingly caught between the decision of staying to watch from a distance, walking away, or coming down to help him. He giggles suddenly, noticing that he's caught Jaeyeol's eye.

And Jaeyeol, the awkward man he is, can't help but share the smile, shivering slightly as he gazes into the male's eyes. When he glances away, breaking the eye contact out of embarrassing custom, and then looks back again, the dark-haired stranger has gone, now running off into the distance, kicking up waves of sand in his wake.

Jaeyeol sighs. There's not much to do now, except go back to the hotel. He turns, dragging his feet as he walks back to his car.

(It's shameful how long he thinks of the handsome stranger afterwards. They don't know each other. But then...

Why won't he leave his mind?!)