Undercover Blue Riot (Transmigration)

Sign 8 The First Breakdown

What does that even mean?
"It means you'd let me break it,"

Tristian stood in the changing room by himself, Cyril was gone with his surfboard, and so was Arthur. He looked at his reflection and wondered if it all felt so unreal. 'All this with Cyril, from meeting him, to learning him, to hating him and loving him. But hate is not the opposite of love. Hate and love stand apart by a thread. Passionate, obsessive and crazy. And sometimes...That threat bends.

But to be indifferent.
That was not hate.
And that was not love. 
Indifference was freedom.

But indifference was also extremely lonely.
And I missed him. 

I missed Cyril Edwards. Actually, I missed a lot of people while staring into that mirror that afternoon. Those who hadn't left, those that did, I missed them all, as I saw them smile at me, from that mirror world, smile into my reflection,
"Can I touch your heart?"
What does that even mean? It means you'd let me break it. 

Of course, I would. One day, this will end. We will probably stop sharing conversations, you won't admire my existence or my name and you won't miss me. You won't hate me. You'd be indifferent and on that day, I would be very lonely indeed. Because even your memories would reject me...

But perhaps, you find my name, 
Scribbled on an old pavement, a rusty poster on a broken, iron fence, on a notebook cover, in a child's scream, on another man embracing a woman and she'd call out my name.
You'd hear my name, and for that second, you would acknowledge my existence.
That once, I was real. And there. Beside you.

Perhaps that would make you smile. Perhaps you'd feel nothing, but just a fleeting memory. Perhaps...Perhaps...Perhaps, you'd remember how I loved you. And you'd roll your tongue to feel my taste lingering through your pulses. And you'd realise how you've been making love with a hollow body for years now. And perhaps for those few moments of realisation, you'd miss me. Like I miss you right now. And it would make you feel something. Happiness, sadness, anger, despair.

If my name makes you feel something.
Even after I'm gone. 

You, my love, are embellishing that devious ailment of love, that I succumbed to.
You love me.'

Tristian gave out a deep exhale and picked up his board. He stretched his back and walked out of the room. He found him leaning over, touching his toes with his hands and stretching his body. The tattoo on his back moved with his skin, and the moles on his chest danced as he swung his arms. His smile dazzled on his red face, the brunette hair falling over his eyes, whatever he was, man, woman, god or beast,

So enchanting.
He is so enchanting.

Tristian walked towards him, quite nervous. Feeling the heat under the soles of his feet as he walked on the warm sand and fell flat on it the very next moment.
"You okay there, mate?" Arthur asked.
"Yeah," He spat some sand, "Ew, it went into my mouth," He looked around, "Where's Cyril?"
"What? He was just here..."

Cyril stood before the water tank, trying to fill up his bottle, but the tank had no water, "Fuckin' hell-" Suddenly, he choked on his saliva and coughed. "Careful, there," He heard Tom Wayward and turned back, "How are you, Edwards?" He looked at Cyril and Cyril looked back at him, quietly.

He smiled at Cyril, "So, you like the ocean, boy?" He came closer to Cyril, almost pressing his forehead, and smiling eerily at him, "I heard your father does,"
Breath almost left Cyril as he heard that, he felt his heart in his mouth as he looked into Tom Wayward's dark, black eyes, he whispered, "Does he force you to love it? Things you don't want to love? Do you want to love it?"