strangers by the shore ♒︎ minsung

☆⁶⁰

I'm in an exhibition. An art gallery.

The light is a shade of dark yellow, illuminating the dark blue walls perfectly.

There aren't a lot of paintings, and they're certainly not ancient— they seem to be freshly made.

Most of them are exquisite flowers or old couples in love.

Eternal love. Ah, what a bittersweet feeling I'm getting.

My eyes scan over one certain drawing, in which two imperfect beings, so interlinked in heart and soul, bask in the warmth of shared love.

Their devotion seems to be lasting and unbreakable, like the vast ocean that surrounds them.

What a beautiful piece of art, I think while walking towards the next one, the pink petals of familiar flowers stroked by a probably gentle brush.

For some reason, my mind refuses to let me read the name of the creator. It looks like hieroglyphs.

Curious, I continue moving forward to see more interesting illustrations of the artist's unsaid thoughts.

After passing by probably ten already, the last one is nowhere to be seen, just an empty frame on the wall. Maybe it's in the making.

So, I exit the building and look at it to see if it rings any bells— it does not.

The surroundings, however, seem to be pretty known to me. I just can't put my fingers on it yet.

There's a beautiful tree on the right, its leaves dancing along the wind, some getting lost in the process.

It must be spring, taking note of the cold yet bright scenery.

The tiny museum is white and has some gold features, like the year it was built; two thousand thirty two.

As I turn around to leave, I hear someone retch. Confused, I try hard to make sense of it, and it doesn't hit me until I realize this is just a dream.

Wake up, Minho. Help Jisung.

I escape, tiredness invading my weak body. I hardly get up, trying mightily for him.

Once again, he's throwing up.

The sight of him suffering breaks my heart and I rush to his side, hugging him from behind.

He whimpers, trying to get everything out.

Even when there's nothing more coming up his tight throat, he gags himself. I stop him, because that can cause damage. I don't want him hurt.

"Min, hurts."

"I know, I'm sorry." I help him up and clean his mouth with warm water. "Your body is just trying to get rid of everything toxic, you'll be okay."

Jisung rinses for the second time this eventful night, looking pale.