Characters: Kangin
Rating: G
Wordcount: 750
Summary: A few weeks after his accident, a few weeks after the world completely changed for him, he goes for a walk on the beach.
A/N: A spur of the moment, wannabe spinoff for the
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It’s amusing how much he has given up for his friend, now that he thinks back to it. There’s so much he has sacrificed for the happiness of the other, only to find out all of that served to nothing but dragging himself down too. He has been standing side by side with the other being the shoulder to cry on, the silent listener, the one who understood. He has given himself, but in the end has fallen too deep. There had been no one to catch him as he raced towards the ground. The fall had been hard, the ground cold; crashing his car into the cab and running. It had been a cold shower, enough to wake him up, to bring him back to his senses, to take him to where he is now.
His convictions shattered.
He has decided he needs a time-out, some time away from the spotlight. He needs that time to be able to piece the shards together again. Sometimes he thinks they all do, they all need a break now and then. To breathe, to see more than the inside of vans, waiting rooms and bars. He needs time to smile, to laugh, to love himself again. He wonders if he’s been hiding for the past years, or if he was just too scared of acknowledging his own failure. But he’s sure he’s shaken awake sufficiently.
His beliefs shattered.
The sea is nice. A vastness of water that makes him realise how small he really is. He knows now that he was stupid to think he would be strong enough to battle the world, strong enough to carry someone else on his back as he went. He was stupid to think he wouldn’t fall, wouldn’t get cut and bruised. He has learned now that one can easily be wrong about oneself and when you sound too sure of yourself, others will easily point out your every mistake once you fall. Just one wrongdoing and suddenly everyone took the chance to criticise him.
Their trust shattered.
He’s shaping pastries in the sand because it’s the only thing he still remembers how to do right, the only thing they can’t criticise him about. It feels nice, tracing the outlines of flowers with his finger to make them more distinct. He finds it easy to lose himself in the distant rush of the sea, the slow tides, water flooding his creations and retreating again. There’s a certain anonymity about the beach; many feet have touched it before and many still will. He feels like that; just one of the many feet stepping onto the soil of people’s life.
His presence shattered.
He loves to walk along the shore, his feet sinking away into the moist sand, sea water flooding his feet before disappearing. He walks distances along the shore that no one can imagine. Feels the sand between his toes, the moisture seeping out of it beneath his feed. He walks until his head is filled with ‘left foot in front of the right one, right foot in front of the left one’ until infinity. There’s the distant realisation of forever and a day, while his head is limping after him, still aeons away in time.
His thoughts shattered.
There’s a faint memory of promising his friend he’d get his life back on track. Crying together in their room and then deciding they should change. More distant memories of drunk evenings, kissing people his mouth would never touch if he were sober. He wants to clear his mind from those vague images, but realises it’s impossible. He knows life for him is not what it once was anymore and it surprises him how much it irks him.
His personality shattered.
The sea can’t be his companion forever, he knows that. He’s made more promises than just one, and he does plan on keeping them. So at one point, he leaves the beach, crawls back into the van, into the open arms that wrap around him in comfort the moment he sits down. He rests his head on that shoulder that once seemed so frail and vulnerable but which now feels so strong and eternal beneath his cheek, and closes his eyes. For just one more day, he knows, just one more evening, he can be vulnerable and small. For one more evening, he can pity himself and demand for someone else to fix this mess, but tomorrow it’s his turn for actions.
The downward slump shatters.
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