Conversations; All In Blue

Five

Every morning he woke to the grim grey skies, every day he spent whiling away the hours with his sandpapers and oils, was a day he hated himself a little less.

He'd been in the house for three weeks, and hadn't seen Wonwoo for two, having no excuse to go and visit him, and definitely not wanting to push his way in where he wasn't welcome. He'd treated him to a day out, he'd paid for his lunch, he'd studied the book Wonwoo had so generously given him. Returning it wasn't even an option; he still needed it.

The bed was hard work but was coming along nicely. Junhui had taken a delivery of a cheap bed frame from the furniture store in the next town over but had splurged on the mattress. He'd spent more on the mattress and the linens than everything else combined, including a new fridge and a small table and chairs set for the front veranda. Taking breakfast every morning with the cold wind in his face and the scent of salt in the air was healing and every day eating was a little easier.

Every day he ached a little less, in his body and in his heart. Every day each step was a little easier to take.

He called Jeonghan less and slept more. He walked everywhere, carrying his groceries back from the shop in two big calico bags, more often than not accompanied by the young man who ran the place. He seemed to have no regard for regular hours, closing up when he felt like it, wandering along the beach path chattering merrily. Junhui had begun to watch for him out in the surf if he woke up early enough, his hair whipping wildly in the wind as he chased relentlessly after each foam crested wave.

Junhui wished something would inspire that much passion in his soul. All he had was his sanding and his cooking and his head full of thoughts of the owlish man with the sharp jaw and mesmerising dark eyes.

On this particular morning he woke early enough to take coffee on the veranda and watch Hansol out on the waves in the distance. His persistence was to be admired; it was windy and the waves were fierce this morning but no matter how many times he was dumped from his board he just resurfaced and climbed back on.

Junhui sipped his coffee, fresh from his new coffee machine, and smiled to himself. Maybe if he'd grown up somewhere like this, where character mattered more than charisma and strength was admired over white teeth, he'd be able to do that too. He drained the coffee cup and put it down on the table and closed his eyes.

The smell of the beach was so addictive, salt and sand and sky, and he wished he would still be here in the summer to enjoy it. If it was warmer he could shed his sweatpants and hoodie and run down to the water's edge in his underwear and throw himself away into the waves. He shook his head, opened his eyes, and chased the thought from his mind. He wouldn't be here in the summer. He'd be back in his element by then, head to toe Gucci and Valentino, back in his clean crisp city apartment looking out onto the skyline of Seoul.