» "I don't think you can't trust someone more than one hundred percent." Minchan looks at him like he wants to outshine the grey air floating all around them. And for a moment, Hoyoung thinks the pattering on the roof has died down a couple lot of d...
They're at the beach, on a holiday trip they all needed and everyone is having the time of their lives.
Hoyoung stands and watches.
He loves them so much.
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The waves roll in, touch the tip of Minchan's toes and retreat back to their home at sea.
Hoyoung stands and watches, wind whistling through his hair, a faint taste of salt on his tongue. The bright sand is warm and dips slightly beneath his feet, just enough that he feels more rushing down to fill the space but doesn't sink in. His pair of sneakers dangles in his hand, in ordner to keep them clean; he didn't bring any flip-flops like the rest. The same wind also rushes through Minchan's dark, fluffy locks and sends them on a wild dance routine, making all the time his friend has spent on drying them flat after shower last night go to waste. But judging the way he leans back on his arms and throws his head into the breeze, Hoyoung doesn't think he minds.
It's an unfamiliar sight. Back at home, Minchan always complained about his hair style getting messed up and his coats being too thin. But the sea changes him. Minchan is calmer when he hears the whispers of the water. If his grin in Seoul is as big and warm as the sun, then his smile in Eurwangni Beach is the moon: serene, intimate, soft, pretty. Even though Hoyoung has known the latter for merely two days now, he adores both. Minchan is most Minchan when he smiles and it doesn't matter where they are — Hoyoung will always keep moments like these in his heart, tucked away safely where memories of them and their friend group are stored for life.
Five or more years ago, he wouldn't have believed he would be standing here. Surrounded by six people he'd trust his life with. Healing. Smiling. Finding happiness. Or something that feels damn close to it.
They are a group of seven. Seven is a lot. But it's a pretty number.
Somewhere to his left, Gyehyeon tries to make Yeonho feed a bunch of hangry seagulls with some leftover bread. He hears the familiar huff of suffering in Kangmin's voice when he races Yongseung to the other side of the beach and back for the god knows which time (does their energy ever run low?) and Dongheon scurries to each of them with busy steps and lots of camera clicking. He hasn't figured out yet that one can mute the sound. They're all counting the weeks. They're all aware it's pointless.
