Undercover Blue Riot (Transmigration)

Sign 3 Tristian's Confusion

"Tristian!" Cyril ran towards twelve year old me, barefoot on the beach. I stood with some older boys with a surfboard in his hand. I moved away from them and came towards Cyril. I didn't want them to meet him because boys like Cyril are usually bullied. The sky was golden and the ocean water was shimmering behind us, "Look!" His blue and green eyes shone in the evening light. I looked at him, "What?"
"I found an Oyster with a pearl!" Cyril shouted.
I smiled, "It's pretty,"

"Round pearls are rare," Cyril smiled.
"...Every pearl I've seen is round though,"
"Mate, those are all cultured or shaped. This one though, I freshly plucked it out,"
"You're growing oysters in your backyard again?"
"Yep. I dug a small pool. This is the first pearl they harvested!" Cyril smiled.

"You really love pearls,"
"I love everything that lives in the ocean,"
"How about surfing?" I asked.
"I am not interested in that,"

"Why? It's fun!"
"Maybe. I like studying about fishes and collecting shells. I don't like water sports, they seem so tiring,"
"All boys surf. Ain't you got that pure Aussie blood like me?" 
"Hmm... I don't think so," Cyril laughed.

Cyril was originally very feminine. He had pale hands and a feminine face with a beauty mark beneath his lips, attracting attention when anyone talked to him. Or maybe it was just me. He loved the ocean. He knew almost everything about it, all fishes, fawns, tides and moon glades. Whenever I'd go to look for him, I'd find him at that little reef surrounded by rocks and red algae, with fishes in a small glass jars, barefoot on the sand, collecting oysters or holding his breath underwater to explore the ocean. 

All other mates were busy surfing, but he was always at the shore, focusing on incarnate mysteries and details of the ocean. And I watched him from a distance. I can't surf, I'm falling. I'm losing my focus.

He was a free being.

No friends.
No connection with this world.
He was like a wandering body whose soul was lost in the ocean and he seemed to be finding it in every second of his existence. His hair is messy and he got sand on his scalp. 

But he seems too absorbed to notice that. 

"Crap!" Cyril gasped as he wounded his finger while tying to tie an earthworm around a sharp hook. We stood shirtless on a huge rock. I walked towards him, 
"Are you okay?" 
"Yeah," He sucked him thumb to stop the blood flow. I looked at him. I looked at his lips, how his beauty mark moved when he sucked his thumb. There's sweat running down his neck, his eyes look impatient and his chest lifts up and sinks down as he breathes heavily because it's just too hot. Hot like a fever. Cold like a summer drink. I like the smell of his sweat. His silky, brown hair look so damn fine. I reach my hands towards their cuticle and grab them tightly and pull him closer. Use my knees to spread his thighs, grab his wrists and hold them above his head, let my tongue find his, watch him turn red-

"Tristian?" Of course, it's all in my head.

...I'm going crazy. He is close. I can feel his warm breath above my lips. I'm caught in his limbo. How do we have to exchange kind words and pleasantries? I'm watching your tongue and mouth curve around every word you say. He look at me. I can't take my eyes off of his eyes.

"Cyril,"
"Yes?" 

"Please never change,"

But,

"You're learning how to surf?" I surfed behind him as we surfed at the top of a giant wave. We were seventeen, he had friends, girls liked talking to him, he looked handsome like those magazine models. He went on dates.

As the wave slowly came down, he did a quick carf and splashed water on my face. 

"Aw sorry, did I get you? My bad," He had an evil smile. I just looked at him go and hug a girl who squealed at how good he was.