ryan hated the beach.
he hated the sand, and he hated the frightening underwater creatures, and he hated the way brendon felt the opposite.
he hated the inevitable wind, the siren-like laughter of children, the smell of sausages and sunscreen, and the joy it represented to everyone but him.
the thought of a hot australian beach triggered a series of memories from the last year. those 12 months had been anything but good: it had started well- the bloom of a reckless summer love- and the 28th of january was when it began to tumble forcefully into a dragging period of heartache, heartbreak, and gin made of tears.
when he passed by everyday things such as people holding hands, he drowned in self-pity and worthlessness; he needn't look far if he wished for a refreshing swim in the sea of guilt and depression filling the gaping hole in his withering heart.
everything reminded him of brendon and the beach and that impossible year.
