Brian has one earbud in one, one out. The sandy beach is stained the color of salmon as the sky sinks lower and lower, the water just a canvas painted by the heavens, a universe filled with questions.

How did I get here?

His only answer is the lapping of waves against the beach, push and pull, like a man struggling for air, Brian thinks that life is filled with mysteries and sometimes he’ll never get an answer to them. Desperate, but oddly satisfied with the little air, the little reassurance he gets.

How did he get here, here with the lonely cries of retreating seagulls, with the song he’s lived through, hated, hung onto?

The notes of a song he’s heard since he’s got here, got to this band, they’ve been kissed by nostalgia, and somehow, he’s never noticed it changing. Through the years of loneliness, he never thought that the harmony would ever make sense, ever complement the melody the way it does now. But when another wave laps at the shore and it brings the chill of a breeze with it, there’s the warmth of someone else pressing against him and he’s smiling at the man with glasses, crooked on his nose, but never more perfect. Jae. Jae was his name. The man with the ability to answer all his questions just by being there. And together the two of them watch as the sun sets, an earbud in each ear as nostalgia kisses the sky goodnight.

The sandy beach is stained the color of salmon as the sky sinks lower and lower, the water just a canvas painted by the heavens, a universe filled with questions.

How did I get here?

Doesn’t matter as long as you’re here with me.