Undercover Blue Riot (Transmigration)

Sign 7 Don't Go, Stay Here

"Hey Tristian," Tom smirked as he punched Tristian's back and Tristian towards him, "Hey Tommy," He wore a pair of trunks that had New Zealand's flag on its pockets. 
Arthur stood beside him in a pale blue plastic hoodie with Australia's fag drawn at its chest. He rolled his eyes, "What do you want, Tom Wayward? I think your shit team is on that side of the beach, innit?"

"Shit team, yeah, that's why we whoop your ass every year. You only win solos, and that too just because of that blind dolphin of yours,"
"Being heterochromatic doesn't make people blind, Tom."
"It does make them look bizarre," He widened his green eyes at Tristian and smiled, "Difinitely perfect for representing your shit country,"

Arthur gave a quick glance to Tristian, then moved closer to Tom, "You're literally trying to be a bully at twenty-two? Grow the fuck up," 
"We'll be having the finals as every year, try to get till they're at least this year," Tom laughed and left towards the other side of the beach with his team. Arthur looked pissed off, "He just called Australia a shit country and you let him? Should've broken his fuckin' jaw, mate!"

"And get disqualified?" Tristian looked at him, "No thanks. I'd rather break his jaw when he's gaging at me when I take his turf on the board,"
"Whatever," Arthur crossed his arms, "Where's Edwards?"
"Not here yet,"
"...Are you fucking kidding me?"

Suddenly, the announcement boards lit up, "Now starts the third run between New Zealand and Portugal," The participants appeared on the screen and all of them rushed towards the water with their surfboard. Arthur looked at Tom as his long, deep golden hair stuck to his skin and he surfed across every other surfer, shining among the waves. 

"We're here!" Skyler yawned as he came towards them with Cyril beside them, "Now, excuse me, I gotta sleep," 
Tristian turned back and looked at Cyril, "Oh thank God!" He picked up his board, let's go. We are next. Cyril picked up his board and stood in front of the waves, next to his team and his competitors. Tristian looked at him while the judges announced the winners of the previous heat. Tom soon stands on the beach, drying himself with a towel and stares at them. Cyril's green eyes rested at the colourless waves, grasping his feet, telling him to stay.

Don't go. You are the only stable love I had in this world. And this grief, it's just love. The love I wanted to give, because this grief is just an empty ocean, ocean because it has water, empty because it has no life. And what are we but mere spectators of our lives, this ocean engulfs us because we made a pact of death on our birth, yet we desperately try to run away from these waves, because we never knew that living, though vain, 

Could be so beautiful.
And this vanity would make us...

Just stay.

The horns go off, the waves rush back as everyone runs. Skyler slept on the sand, under an umbrella while Arthur and Tristian yell at him but it's almost like you're underwater, you don't know you're dying, you just are. He runs into the water with his surfboard, slip on the algae beneath, and falls into the water, hearing at once, the water rush, the blood in his veins, the announcements, he pushed himself up and coughed. 

"CYRIL! MOTHERFUCKER GET HERE!" Arthur yelled as he did a quick aerial move and everyone else followed. Cyril got on his board and swam towards the waves. Tristian was on top of his game that day. He landed three aerials consecutively, acing his team.

"Tristian Miller is shredding it!"
"He's improved gallons since last winter,"
"What's Cyril Edwards doing though? He's almost like a fish who doesn't know how to swim out there,"

Cyril finally reached the waves and got up on his feet, stumbling with his balance and almost grabbing the water, as if he could, trying to at least do one simple trick. But before he could, someone swiftly passed before him, hitting his board. He tripped and fell over, everyone on the beach booed, 
"Jesus Christ, that bloody moron!" Arthur landed his final trick and the wave soon died down. They swam back to the beach, 

"Well, that was rather interesting,"
"Equally disappointing though, Josh," The commentators said as the judges calculated the scores. Arthur waited for Cyril to come to the beach and then pushed him on his chest, "WHAT'S YOUR BLOODY PROBLEM, YOU TWATT? LOST YO' FUCKIN' BALLS OR WHAT?! This ain't yo mama's kids pool where you splash some water with your wobbly bones and call it a day, it's a fucking international tournament! And you're embarrassing us!"

"Arthur, calm down-" Tristian tried to stop but there was no stopping him, "Shut the fuck up, Tristian. This good for nothing plonker can't do shit, why are you even here, mate? You perhaps get off to appearing like a stupid fucking cunt in front of the entire world, I do not. I'm taking my chances to make this work so if you kindly stop ruining them for me, I'd highly appreciate that, TWATT!" Arthur flipped his fair and walked towards the changing room, throwing his surfboard in anger, "Bloody wanker!"

Tristian sighed and looked at Cyril, "Congratulations, Australia, aced by Tristian Miller, you guys won over Brazil by just a mark of 0.3!" The commentators announced.
"Oof, that was close,"
"I know right, Josh? Now, as all fifth and the final run for today!"

Tristian looked at the board, his picture plastered on live TV. All the bright lights, the music, the oceanic scent, it almost seemed like a dream. He smiled, "Well, can't believe we made it. I guess we got lucky there that I was feeling good today,"

"You need to find my replacement," Cyril didn't even bother looking at the results board, because he knew what he did, "I can't do this anymore,"
Tristian's smile almost faded instantly, "...Are you kidding me?" 
"Look, I know it's an asshole thing to do but I just...kind of...Really don't care about any of this anymore, so what's the point?"

"You told me you wanted to be there, though! I helped you get through it. We turned down another deserving guy for you, Edwards! And now you're telling me you're dropping us like a rock? Did any of this ever mean anything to you?"

"It did. At least while it lasted. Now, I don't want to do it anymore. It reminds me of things, things I'd rather forget about,"
"Look, please snap out of this. Do it after this tournament. I practised my whole life for this, please don't take it away from me, please!" Tristian pressed his hands over's Cyril's shoulders. He looked at his hands, tanned, dark, wet, with slight grains of salt over them, rough but enough to make him feel skin, not pain.

He looked into his eyes as he gently pushed his hands away from his body.
"You really gotta learn how everyone won't move according to you, Tristian Miller. In short, you losing your escapades of possible sponsorship...That's your problem, not mine,"
He picked up his board and got on moving, leaving Skyler behind, simply sleeping on the sand.

Tristian took a while to take this in, but as soon as he did, he ran up the stairs leading to the higher altitude road and found Cyril walking through that same street, under the same old trees,
"How can you be so selfish?"
Cyril stopped and looked at him, "Well, you're just bad at figuring people out,"
"I'm not. I just...dwell on a you that perhaps doesn't exist anymore,"

Cyril's green eyes narrowed, shifting his little mole from the end of his lips, to his cheeks, "Dead people don't magically come alive, Tristian,"
"But you do...Cyril,"

-To be continued

Undercover Blue Riot