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The Ocean Waves That Brought Us Together
Jul. 10th, 2020 11:58 pmThere’s something eerie about watching the winter ocean, in Sunwoo’s humble opinion. The soft, lapping waves are too cold to dip his toes into, yet perfectly warm enough from where Sunwoo is sitting, halfway between a patch of dried grass and the sand. The blue sky is vast over Sunwoo’s head, not a single cloud in sight as he watches a bird fly to a nearby tree. Sunwoo’s head is tucked in his arms, a creased piece of paper in his hands as he feels the cool spring breeze ruffle his hair.
“Kim Sunwoo, up before nine AM on a weekend? It’s a strange day today,” a voice breaks Sunwoo’s serene silence, amusement in his tone as Sunwoo feels a body drop down next to him. Sunwoo just turns his head away, still staring at the ocean. He blinks furiously, trying to cover up the small droplets of condensation on his cheeks as a hand rests on his shoulder in comfort.
“Is he still not awake?” Kevin asks softly, rubbing small circles in Sunwoo’s back as Sunwoo shakes his head ever so slightly. Kevin gives him a small hug of sympathy, standing up to brush off his jeans as he sighs.
“Breakfast is ready whenever you are, Woo-ah. Juyeon’s making carbonara this morning,” Kevin drawls, trying to smile. Sunwoo gives him a grateful smile back, tiny as he waves him off.
“I’ll be there soon,” Sunwoo promises, even though they know it’ll be at least another fifteen minutes. Kevin leaves without much fanfare, quietly slipping away to leave Sunwoo to his ocean waves, footsteps covered by the soft roars of the ocean. To Sunwoo, the ocean is like a blanket for thoughts, in a way. He could just let himself drift into the sound of the ocean, overwhelming in the best way possible as Sunwoo lets his hand drop to his side. He holds up the paper in his hands, an undelivered letter delayed by nearly two weeks now, but it's not like the recipient will notice. After all, he hasn’t woken up in three weeks.
Perhaps this is a good place to explain Sunwoo’s predicament. He’s a child of the sea, living in the city yet spending so much of his childhood roaming in the abandoned beach near his family’s cottage. Seashells would hang from Sunwoo’s arms in dozens, and his dried skin a constant physical giveaway of how much time Sunwoo spent in the sea.
By his side this entire time is Kim Younghoon, his brother and best friend of forever. Their parents are travellers, often spending entire years running around the globe on one adventure after another. In the summers, Younghoon and him would join them, but most of the time the two brothers spent their tie in a giant mansion too big for both. Their babysitter Sangyeon takes them to the little cottage by the beach every weekend for their peace of mind, a much cozier one story bungalow with memories at every nook and cranny of the house. Younghoon would join Sunwoo on his seaside quests for the prettiest seashell, or the slightest glimpse of the turtles, offering Sunwoo random facts he learnt from school and snacks swindled away from the cupboard without Sangyeon knowing. Sunwoo always preferred the latter, but Younghoon always had a blissed, faraway look in his eyes whenever he talked about the turtles, so Sunwoo relents anyway.
That was when they were still kids of course.
Younghoon moved away to America for college, studying marine biology at some fancy institute and leaving Sunwoo alone in the house that still felt impossibly big. Granted, Sunwoo has more friends now, lifelong companions he’d never think of letting go, but there was always an ache in his heart. To run on the beach with his brother again, carefree and blissful and content. Sunwoo spends more time sneaking away to the nearby river on school nights then studying, grades dropping hopelessly low and earning him earful after earful from his parents. He spent more time with his friends making music and singing into the night, coming home at ass o’clocks in the morning. His parents yelled at him of course. They did it every time they would come home after months of absence. They tell him about how much of a disgrace he is, and how he couldn’t have turned out more different than Younghoon, their perfect child. Sunwoo became angry and closed off, the pure and blissful relationship between him and his brother becoming icy and frigid as Sunwoo stopped calling and texting him altogether. Younghoon was busy on his part too, the time difference and workload keeping him away from contact. Sunwoo would graduate high school too, and suddenly he had no family left to look for as he moved out.
The next time Sunwoo sees Younghoon again, they end up bloody and bruised as Sunwoo loses all sigh of rationality and explodes. They were never the same after that.
Sangyeon, their old babysitter who’s a music producer in Seoul now, finds Sunwoo bloody and crying at the old abandoned beach a few hours later, screaming and cursing the world as he threw rocks into the beloved ocean he held so close to his heart. The roar of the waves were strong that night, coupled with the taste of a stormy sky and the roar of the hungry rain swallowing Sunwoo whole as anger dissipates from his mind, leaving nothing but regret and pain. He had punched Younghoon a little too hard, knocking him against a mirror. Sunwoo had never seen someone crumble that fast, a combination of Younghoon’s refusal to eat more than necessary and post-finals exhaustion making Younghoon go limp faster than Sunwoo could blink. Sunwoo had cried, horrified by what had happened as he desperately fumbled for Younghoon to wake up. It was at that moment that everything evaporated, the regret and loneliness crashing down onto him like a tidal wave as Sunwoo screamed. He dialed Jacob, his blessed friend who drove Younghoon to the hospital and had him rushed into the ER.
Sunwoo ran after he couldn’t hang around anymore, not caring for the rain as he took the nearest bus to the countryside. Sangyeon found him and had assured all his friends Sunwoo was okay, albeit listless and cooped up in his room all day now. He refuses to go back to Seoul, relying solely on Jacob’s updates from visiting Younghoon in the hospital. Sunwoo cried for a straight week, guilt and regret engulfing him like the ocean waves engulfing the sandy shores of the beach. Kevin, Juyeon and Eric came down about a week later, per Sangyeon’s orders to make sure Sunwoo doesn’t fully self-destruct. He almost does, on the very verge of throwing himself into the ocean and never resurfacing, taking over Sunwoo one lonely midnight. Eric found him mere seconds away from jumping off the jagged, eroded rocks, an emotional slap to the face from his best friend and Sunwoo found himself dragged back inside. Kevin sits him down the next morning with a pen and a pad of paper, forcing him to put his feelings into words. A letter, Kevin says, is perhaps one of the best ways to let someone know how you feel. They can’t ignore it, and there’s no hesitance between each word to allow for confusion. Like ocean waves, Sunwoo notes to himself, always there to tell Sunwoo something about life. The pen moved faster than he’d care to admit, but Sunwoo relents to it, letting his built up feelings spill like an open faucet. Juyeon offered to take the letter to Younghoon this week, when he goes back to Seoul. Sunwoo had numbly agreed, yet his death grip on the paper seems to say otherwise.
And this brings us to now. Sunwoo’s sitting in front of his beloved ocean now, a brother on the brink of death as Sunwoo grips his poorly written apology like a lifeline. The ocean consumes his thoughts again, drowning out Eric’s yells for him from the porch of the house. He’s numb like this, swept away in the feeling of guilt as the ocean reminds him of memories long faded from Sunwoo’s mind, yet permanently there at the same time.
He wonders if Younghoon’s in the same predicament.
“Kim Sunwoo, up before nine AM on a weekend? It’s a strange day today,” a voice breaks Sunwoo’s serene silence, amusement in his tone as Sunwoo feels a body drop down next to him. Sunwoo just turns his head away, still staring at the ocean. He blinks furiously, trying to cover up the small droplets of condensation on his cheeks as a hand rests on his shoulder in comfort.
“Is he still not awake?” Kevin asks softly, rubbing small circles in Sunwoo’s back as Sunwoo shakes his head ever so slightly. Kevin gives him a small hug of sympathy, standing up to brush off his jeans as he sighs.
“Breakfast is ready whenever you are, Woo-ah. Juyeon’s making carbonara this morning,” Kevin drawls, trying to smile. Sunwoo gives him a grateful smile back, tiny as he waves him off.
“I’ll be there soon,” Sunwoo promises, even though they know it’ll be at least another fifteen minutes. Kevin leaves without much fanfare, quietly slipping away to leave Sunwoo to his ocean waves, footsteps covered by the soft roars of the ocean. To Sunwoo, the ocean is like a blanket for thoughts, in a way. He could just let himself drift into the sound of the ocean, overwhelming in the best way possible as Sunwoo lets his hand drop to his side. He holds up the paper in his hands, an undelivered letter delayed by nearly two weeks now, but it's not like the recipient will notice. After all, he hasn’t woken up in three weeks.
Perhaps this is a good place to explain Sunwoo’s predicament. He’s a child of the sea, living in the city yet spending so much of his childhood roaming in the abandoned beach near his family’s cottage. Seashells would hang from Sunwoo’s arms in dozens, and his dried skin a constant physical giveaway of how much time Sunwoo spent in the sea.
By his side this entire time is Kim Younghoon, his brother and best friend of forever. Their parents are travellers, often spending entire years running around the globe on one adventure after another. In the summers, Younghoon and him would join them, but most of the time the two brothers spent their tie in a giant mansion too big for both. Their babysitter Sangyeon takes them to the little cottage by the beach every weekend for their peace of mind, a much cozier one story bungalow with memories at every nook and cranny of the house. Younghoon would join Sunwoo on his seaside quests for the prettiest seashell, or the slightest glimpse of the turtles, offering Sunwoo random facts he learnt from school and snacks swindled away from the cupboard without Sangyeon knowing. Sunwoo always preferred the latter, but Younghoon always had a blissed, faraway look in his eyes whenever he talked about the turtles, so Sunwoo relents anyway.
That was when they were still kids of course.
Younghoon moved away to America for college, studying marine biology at some fancy institute and leaving Sunwoo alone in the house that still felt impossibly big. Granted, Sunwoo has more friends now, lifelong companions he’d never think of letting go, but there was always an ache in his heart. To run on the beach with his brother again, carefree and blissful and content. Sunwoo spends more time sneaking away to the nearby river on school nights then studying, grades dropping hopelessly low and earning him earful after earful from his parents. He spent more time with his friends making music and singing into the night, coming home at ass o’clocks in the morning. His parents yelled at him of course. They did it every time they would come home after months of absence. They tell him about how much of a disgrace he is, and how he couldn’t have turned out more different than Younghoon, their perfect child. Sunwoo became angry and closed off, the pure and blissful relationship between him and his brother becoming icy and frigid as Sunwoo stopped calling and texting him altogether. Younghoon was busy on his part too, the time difference and workload keeping him away from contact. Sunwoo would graduate high school too, and suddenly he had no family left to look for as he moved out.
The next time Sunwoo sees Younghoon again, they end up bloody and bruised as Sunwoo loses all sigh of rationality and explodes. They were never the same after that.
Sangyeon, their old babysitter who’s a music producer in Seoul now, finds Sunwoo bloody and crying at the old abandoned beach a few hours later, screaming and cursing the world as he threw rocks into the beloved ocean he held so close to his heart. The roar of the waves were strong that night, coupled with the taste of a stormy sky and the roar of the hungry rain swallowing Sunwoo whole as anger dissipates from his mind, leaving nothing but regret and pain. He had punched Younghoon a little too hard, knocking him against a mirror. Sunwoo had never seen someone crumble that fast, a combination of Younghoon’s refusal to eat more than necessary and post-finals exhaustion making Younghoon go limp faster than Sunwoo could blink. Sunwoo had cried, horrified by what had happened as he desperately fumbled for Younghoon to wake up. It was at that moment that everything evaporated, the regret and loneliness crashing down onto him like a tidal wave as Sunwoo screamed. He dialed Jacob, his blessed friend who drove Younghoon to the hospital and had him rushed into the ER.
Sunwoo ran after he couldn’t hang around anymore, not caring for the rain as he took the nearest bus to the countryside. Sangyeon found him and had assured all his friends Sunwoo was okay, albeit listless and cooped up in his room all day now. He refuses to go back to Seoul, relying solely on Jacob’s updates from visiting Younghoon in the hospital. Sunwoo cried for a straight week, guilt and regret engulfing him like the ocean waves engulfing the sandy shores of the beach. Kevin, Juyeon and Eric came down about a week later, per Sangyeon’s orders to make sure Sunwoo doesn’t fully self-destruct. He almost does, on the very verge of throwing himself into the ocean and never resurfacing, taking over Sunwoo one lonely midnight. Eric found him mere seconds away from jumping off the jagged, eroded rocks, an emotional slap to the face from his best friend and Sunwoo found himself dragged back inside. Kevin sits him down the next morning with a pen and a pad of paper, forcing him to put his feelings into words. A letter, Kevin says, is perhaps one of the best ways to let someone know how you feel. They can’t ignore it, and there’s no hesitance between each word to allow for confusion. Like ocean waves, Sunwoo notes to himself, always there to tell Sunwoo something about life. The pen moved faster than he’d care to admit, but Sunwoo relents to it, letting his built up feelings spill like an open faucet. Juyeon offered to take the letter to Younghoon this week, when he goes back to Seoul. Sunwoo had numbly agreed, yet his death grip on the paper seems to say otherwise.
And this brings us to now. Sunwoo’s sitting in front of his beloved ocean now, a brother on the brink of death as Sunwoo grips his poorly written apology like a lifeline. The ocean consumes his thoughts again, drowning out Eric’s yells for him from the porch of the house. He’s numb like this, swept away in the feeling of guilt as the ocean reminds him of memories long faded from Sunwoo’s mind, yet permanently there at the same time.
He wonders if Younghoon’s in the same predicament.
