beginning.

The girl is the ocean, and the ocean is the girl.

 

Mei doesn't remember much about her childhood.

It lingers at the back of her mind like an ugly scar, throbbing occasionally but quickly dying down to a dull pain if she ignores it hard enough. She never likes to dwell on it for that long. If she managed to forget such a big part of her life, she might as well not remember it at all. The pain is there for a reason. She must have some weird secret or painful past that would traumatize her if she ever finds out.

She likes staying ignorant most of the time.

She used to ask her mother about it, making her grubby, little-girl hands hold onto the back of her dress as she tug, tug, tugged to get her attention. Small words placed inside a small brain on a small body with small hands. Her mother was persistent, and Mei was persistent, but her past was even more persistent. It refused to be ignored, and yet she still can't remember.

It's no use asking now, unless she wants to carry her voice across the whole ocean, singing to the vast land of blue.

Lost at sea, they had said.

When will she come back, she had said.

Never, they had thought. Soon, my child, they had said.

Her father couldn't even comfort her at the time because there was no father to begin with. He had loved her mother, that much was true, but that was as far as his role went on for. Love. No family, no long-lasting relationship, just love. But the love didn't go on as long as it was meant to. For all Mei knows, her father never even existed.

She is alone now, with only the crashing waves and rocky shore to comfort her. And yet she is not alone, because the ocean is within her, with all its fish and seaweed and salt. She is alone, and she is never alone.

No relatives, no friends, no long-lost cousins. Just Mei. Just the ocean. Just a lonely house sitting precariously on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the shore. This is what her life consists of, and this is all her life will ever consist of. Or so she thinks. Maybe one day someone will come and claim her. Maybe one day someone will dry her bones and the sea out of her and she will be together with someone, away from the ocean. 

But the ocean doesn't want that.

The ocean is selfish, or maybe Mei is selfish, but they are probably both extremely selfish. The ocean only wants her; it wants to wrap her up in its watery arms and carry her into its depths, and it wants to take all of her and submerge her inside itself. The ocean wants to become Mei. Mei wants to become the ocean. She wants it to make up all that she is, and she wants it to sink inside her skin and become a part of her blood. But Mei wants the ocean, and she wants something else. She wants real arms to hold her, real skin to meld with hers, real words to whisper inside her ear. The ocean does all of this, but the ocean is not real. The ocean is not human. The ocean is in love with Mei, and Mei is in love with the ocean, but they are selfish.

Love is such a selfish feeling.

 

It takes her five years to venture into the town without feeling the absence of her mother weighing down on her like an anchor. She is fifteen years old.

No one pays much attention to the girl that weaves in and out of the crowd, clutching the money in her hands so tightly that her knuckles turn white. Maybe she is still a bit disturbed, but at least she does not shake uncontrollably whenever someone merely looks her in the eye. Mei is proud of herself, and her grip on the silver coins lessens ever so slightly. Ever. so. slightly. Her knuckles are still white.

She is no longer known as "that-girl-whose-mother-died". She is still known as "that-girl-who-lives-in-that-weird-house". At least she isn't known as "that-girl-who-lives-alone". Apparently, the mayor has a slight soft spot for orphans. She has a caretaker who visits her everyday, coming in the morning at 8am sharp and leaving at 8pm on the dot. Mrs. Yuan is a punctual woman, despite her frail and withering stature. She is an old woman with seven grandchildren, and four of them live with her because her children are very good parents. The money she gets from watching over her is much needed. Sometimes Mei gives her a few extra silver coins, if she has some left over. Mrs. Yuan likes her. Mei likes Mrs. Yuan, too.

She is on her way to the local market, a place filled with stalls of merchants selling all kinds of food brought in from the ships that dock at the small little town. Mrs. Yuan is going to make dinner, and they are out of ingredients. The old woman would have gone to get it herself, but her arthritis is acting up again. Mei doesn't want to be a burden to her, so she had timidly taken the woman's hand and told her, in a voice so soft it struggled to be heard amongst the white noise of complete silence, "I'll do it." 

Any other day would have done it. Any other day, and the courage she had managed to muster would have disappeared. But today is a day unlike any other, and the sun seems to be shining extra bright and the ocean is running through her veins and Mei just needs to get out of the house. She really needs to get out of the house, so she steels her will and weaves through the crowd and tries not to think about strangers and  instead thinks about the ocean and the feeling of drowning. It works for maybe a little bit. Just a little bit, and her mind feels like it is drifting away. Not enough to feel detached, but enough to slightly distract herself. She is still walking. The direction of the market is embedded inside her head. She will be alright. She will.

The coins make her hands feel sticky and slightly uncomfortable as a sheen of sweat covers her palms from the afternoon sun. Metal on skin. The smell makes her cringe but she must not let them go.

Strangers around her are distracting. They bump into her and some of them stare blatantly because who wouldn't? She is a thirteen year old girl who looks like she has been living alone all her life - in a way she has - with wild eyes and messy hair and did she forget to take a shower again? She doesn't need to shower. She has the ocean. It cleans her up mighty well. It doesn't take away the odor, though. She must look strange, and her courage starts to die out, but she is hungry, and Mrs. Yuan wants potatoes. And milk. And some meat.

She is distracted.

Someone bumps into her, a burly stranger with broad shoulders, and it rams into her with the force of a truck - where on Earth could he be going? - and she falls to the ground with an embarrassingly loud thud. The coins roll away, barely missing the gutter.

No apology. No sympathetic stares. Just apathy.

Mei grimaces and gets up. She is quivering and the fact that no one cares is a bit comforting. Sarcasm is such a lovely use of words.

She struggles to pick the silver coins up. Everyone is in a hurry and no one pauses to help, and they all step over her hands as if she is part of the ground itself. No, she is not. She is water. She. is. water.

The thoughts whirring around her head have her hands trembling as she clutches the coins even tighter. She just needs to get to the market. That is all.

By the time she arrives, with the sights and smells overwhelming her senses and her eyes soaking everything in, her legs are trembling. Walking feels unnatural to her. She never walks. But she remembers the pumping of legs and long gulps of air and being engulfed by freezing cold arms. Each time she sets foot on the ground, she learns how to walk all over again. She never walks.

"Miss, are you alright?"

She looks over at the owner of a voice with a start. It is only then when she realizes that she has been standing still for such a long time, staring off into space. The tips of her ears turn red, and a blush crawls up her cheeks as she opens to reply.

"Um. Well. Yes?"

Mei clenches the coins in her fist. They feel like slipping out of her hands any minute, with the heat of the sun beating down on her and all she wants is to jump into the ocean and forget the boy. Forget social situations. Forget having friends. But she has a good memory. Forgetting never works, because forgetting never happens. She always remembers. She always cries.

The boy makes a move. He takes a step forward, with a cautious hand reaching out to her, wondering. Mei panics. What does she do? Does she take his hand? Her mind goes haywire, and the coins are so slippery. She feels disgusting. She can't even have a decent conversation with someone, and to top it all off, she is probably embarrassingly sweaty. There is no way she can hold his hand now. He will probably take it back. He will probably look at her in disgust. Everyone does, and she should be used to it, but she isn't. It still hurts, the pain is real, and she can't get rid of it. The pain is always there, as fresh as spring. And the tears are always there, as fresh as the first few drops of rain. She doesn't do anything, but-

He takes her hand.

She is starting to feel like the whiny teenage girl in some cheesy drama that Mrs. Yuan always watches. What was it called again? "Don't Play With My Heart"? "Don't Hurt My Heart"? Something with hearts, she is sure. Hearts are always in dramas, whether they get broken or repaired or something strange happens. But yes. She feels like she is in a drama, because his eyes are sparkling - boys' eyes don't sparkle in real life, do they? - and everything seems to have frozen. It is just her and this boy, whoever he is.

"Who are you?" There it comes. Her voice sounds strange, as if it was recorded hours ago just to be played for this moment.

He smiles. He has a dimple. She dies inside. She must look stupid.

"My name is Yixing. What about you?"

A response begins to bubble at the back of , but social situations are her enemy. Her kryptonite. Her weakness. Nothing comes out, save for a gargled murmur of strange noises that only a dying whale would make. She has never been more humiliated in her life...except for that one time when Mrs. Yuan's grandson had walked in on her just a few months ago. That had been embarrassing, but for some reason, shaming herself in front of the oh-my-he's-perfect Yixing seems a million times worse.

She tries to compose herself.

"My name is...my name is - uh - it's Mei." Such a graceful introduction.

"Ah, Mei. What a beautiful name. But you are beautiful, too."

And he smiles again and all of a sudden he pulls her towards him and his arm wraps around her waist and they are walking. They are walking, and he is so close and then his mouth comes up to her ear.

"If you're not busy with anything, maybe we could go somewhere together?"

Oh, dear God. That voice. That face. That dimple. She can't say anything. It must be a dream. It must be a dream, because-

"Excuse me, miss? I just wanted to know your name."

Oh. She was daydreaming. Of course.

"...My name is Mei." She tries not to sound extremely disappointed and depressed, but the look in her eyes must say it all. And then she realizes that Yixing is still holding her hand. And then she realizes that his grip on her hand gets tighter as he purses his lips - oh, those lips - and looks at her in concern. But she can't seem to say anything else or even explain to him that yes, she is alright, because she is too caught up in the world filled with Yixing. She is too caught up in the way his eyes are staring at her and yet look so far away at the same time. She is too caught up in the way his dimple embeds itself into her head for the rest of eternity. She is too caught up in the way his hands feel perfect engulfing hers.

Is it possible to fall in love so quickly?

It must be, because she is right now. She is, and the ocean must know, because she can hear it roaring in the distance, even if she is at the market where everyone is taking and shouting and convincing people to buy food.

"Well, Mei, do you need help with anything?"

The coins are held even tighter. She can feel them etching the face of their queen on her palm, forever smiling at her lifelessly. Beady black eyes and tight lips. All on the palm of her hand. She holds back a grimace.

"I need potatoes. And milk. And some meat."

 

Mei finds that she can learn a lot about a person just by observing them. She also finds out that most people don't realize it, because when she goes to tell Mrs. Yuan about it the next day, the old woman is quite bewildered. She acts how she does when she is trying to turn on the television, which can only be summed up in two words: completely hopeless.

But Mei is just as bewildered as Mrs. Yuan is. Is it really that hard to pay attention to even the simplest of things? With just one hour of having the time to herself to observe Yixing, she had learned a lot about him.

one. He is a nice person.

This can be proved several times. 

exhibit A. First of all, he had actually bothered to help out a disturbed person such as herself. She assumes that if he had seen her fall flat on her face before she had gotten to the market, he would have helped her then, as well. Even if he had hardly known her - they were complete strangers with no relations towards each other whatsoever - he had still gone out of his way to act concerned for her. And whether or not the concern had been fake, at least he was nice enough to at least pretend to care.

Who would even think of doing such a thing? Surely not the other people of the town, because no one had spared her one glance, save for the strange glances she got because she is just naturally different.

And yet Yixing had stopped whatever he was doing - she had learned later that he was buying a few herbs for his father, who is the local doctor - just to help a poor sap like her. He must have a shred of sympathy in his heart if he had even thought of doing such a thing.

And he had treated her so kindly she almost thought it was all a dream. The only other person who treats her with such respect and care is Mrs. Yuan, and she is paid to act like that (although Mei knows that Mrs. Yuan really does care for her).

He had held her hand, which was embarrassing to say the least, because he had noticed that she could not walk properly. She was like a newborn baby just learning how to walk, and she hardly goes out to town, so the whole experience had been quite frightening. But he had guided her right through it, like a caring father; or, even better, a caring friend.

Mei feels giddy just thinking about it. She has a friend. A real, good-to-honest friend.

Maybe this time her friend won't run away. Maybe this time it will turn into something substantial.

She can only hope.

exhibit B. The fact that Yixing was actually going out and doing an errand for his father who was perfectly capable of doing it himself if he had wanted to stuck out to her. That was what had gotten her attention.

His father really did choose to go out and buy what he needed himself, but Yixing had chosen to do it for him. She hadn't known until Yixing had offered to walk her home, stopping by at his own home before going on his way towards her house by the shore.

She was a bit embarrassed to be walked home by a boy, which has never happened to her, ever, because just look at her. Mei is a girl with no parents and not a penny to her name. Mei is a girl who spends all her time alone, yet not completely alone, because the ocean is with her and inside her bones and she brings it everywhere with her. Of course no one would want to be involved with someone like her, a girl who comes and goes without warning. She is unstable and just as unpredictable as the ocean itself. Whether it will drown you or heal your wounds is a mystery no one will ever find out.

But right now we are focusing on Yixing and his never-ending kindness.

Most boys Mei knows don't do anything for their fathers becaues they are so lazy they look like fat, melted lumps of clay (then again, she only knows three boys: Mrs. Yuan's two grandchildren and the young garderner that tends to the plants on the porch).

The fact that Yixing was willing to be a good son surprised her, although it shouldn't have.

But what really made her consider him as kind was the look on Yixing's face as he talked to his father.

It reminded her of how her mother used to look at her, and that was reason enough to think of him as the kindest soul on the planet.

exhibit C. Yixing knows everyone. Literally everyone.

Mei is even a bit jealous that he is able to converse with others so effortlessly. He makes it seem so easy, swiflty making his way from one conversation to another the way she swims from one end of the shore to the other.

She doesn't think of him as a social butterfly, despite the many people that know him. To her, social butterflies are bold and colorful. Yixing is anything but bold. He almost blends into the background, quietly observing others, and yet he can fly into a conversation whenever he wants to.

She seems him as a ladybug, a creature she finds just as pretty as a butterfly. The only difference is that they are a bit smaller, a bit more modest, and they blend into the background while still being just as noticeable. 

Everyone knows him because he is nice to everyone. Even Mei knows him, and she has never interacted with many people in her life. She knows Mrs. Yuan and her grandchildren. She knows the gardener. She knows the boy who delivers the papers. But she can't know people like Yixing does, with his all-seeing eyes and knowing smiles.

Yixing is kind, and it seems that everyone takes notice of this.

two. Yixing is extremely protective over his belongings, and apparently she is a part of that.

exhibit A. He had been holding a guitar pick. She found it interesting and wanted to take a look at it. 

Long story short, he would not let her touch it.

Yes, he had held it up in front of her face, waved it around like it was the most precious thing in the world, even explained where he had gotten it (his grandmother had come for a visit from the capital).

The pick is a slick gold with his name of neat little characters engraved onto it with extreme precision. Such a beautiful object would only be able to come from the capital.

Her curious hands had reached out to run her fingers over it.

He had pulled his hand back like he had been bit by a snake. Not just any snake. An extremely poisonous snake with venom so deadly it could kill a man in a second. Yes, that kind of snake is what it was. She hates those kinds of snakes.

Mei never tried to touch the beloved pick again.

exhibit B. He is even possessive over the parts of his body.

Yixing had been holding Mei's hand at the time, but would he ever let her hold his hand without permission? She had found out the answer would come out to be an extremely passionate "no".

It seems to her that Yixing has every single girl in town wrapped around his finger - every single girl including Mei herself. He can ask her to do anything, and one look into those clear brown eyes will get her to die for him. She knows it just as well as he does.

And so, with such influence over so many girls, of course some of them would want to give him a shot. Many girls had come up to them previously, all vain attempts in trying to attract his attention.

But he would just ignore them and purposely turn towards Mei to talk about something interesting. Maybe he would say something along the lines of wow, did you see that? Or maybe hey, there is beautiful artwork over there, would you like to take a look? Most of the time it would just be come on, I found something back here, let's go. Her shopping trip of potatoes, meat, and milk turned into something much longer and much more entertaining - not that she was complaining.

Mei knows she will never admit it to anyone, but she extremely enjoyed the attention he was giving her. She enjoyed the fact that he was talking to her, and not to the frilly girls that shoved their caked faces in front of him with puckered lips and fluttering eyelashes. She enjoyed Yixing holding her hand. She enjoyed it quite a lot.

And so, when a girl had tried to hold his hand and will him somewhere else, she enjoyed what he had done after that.

He had jerked her away and clutched his hand like someone had burned it. Yixing was not holding Mei's hand anymore, but at least he wasn't holding the other girl's hand, either.

His eyes turned sharply towards the girl, and he had said, "This hand is mine, and I can do what I want with it. Please don't decide that for me. I don't want to go anywhere with you, sorry."

Yixing's words had shocked the girl into a stunned silence before sending her running with a stream of colorful words leaving .

When he had turned back to Mei, there was a quaint smile on his face and he looked as if nothing had even happened. She decided not to dwell on it too much.

exhibit C. Yesterday, Mei learned that she can be considered as pretty (or something close to that).

When her mother had disappeared, many of the townspeople had started paying attention to her. In all honesty, she was noticed even before the incident because almost everyone wanted to know who lived in the run-down house situated at the top of the cliff that led to a deadly drop into the ocean. To Mei and her mother, that had been the charm of it: living near the ocean. Not many other people thought of that as a good thing, though.

Now, however, Mei is happy to say that she does not receive much attention from others (mostly because she never goes out much in the first place). Almost everyone in town has forgotten about her, except for the rare few that recognize her and offer how sorry they are for her and her mother, which she believes should not be a reason to talk to her anymore since it has already been five years. Of course, five years isn't enough for Mei to forget the pain, but five years should be enough for others.

It is safe to say that she certainly did not expect it when a random boy had gone up to her, blushing and stuttering like a schoolgirl in love. She remembers it clearly.

She always remembers embarrassing things, much to her misery.

Mei and Yixing were browsing through the market's selection of freshly-picked vegetables, conducting idle chatter as he helped her find the "perfect potato", a potato that, described by Mrs. Yuan, is proportioned just the right way and has a certain firmness to it that makes it fit perfectly inside a person's hands. The two were having a heated discussion about which potato they had picked was better, and Mei was quite convinced that it was hers - she was the one who sees the potatoes Mrs. Yuan brings home, after all.

She was, in fact, about to win their strange argument about potatoes, but then she had felt a timid tap on her shoulder and heard a quavering voice behind her and had to stop talking. Mei had whipped around, angered at the interruption, but her irritation blew out as soon as she took one look at those innocent brown eyes.

"Um, e-excuse me, may I get your name, miss? My, uh, my friends think you're really pretty."

Mei had stared at him in surprise before fumbling over her words, her cheeks turning as red as the boy's.

"My name is Mei," she had replied hesitantly.

The boy's eyes lit up, probably pleased that she even bothered to answer, and then he had said, his voice pleasant and his eyes getting wider with each word, "Mei, I think you're very pretty, too."

She was stunned into silence and had felt her cheeks burning hot like a fire, when Yixing grabbed her wrist firmly just as the young boy had pushed one of his friends in front of her.

"Mei, my friend likes you a lot, and-"

"That's enough."

Both the boys and Mei had stared up at Yixing in surprise. She hadn't known that his voice could sound so deep or threatning; it was usually pleasant and fell upon her ears nicely.

He had then proceeded to drag her away without even giving her the chance to learn their names, but she did manage to get out a "I'm the girl by the sea! The house! On the cliff!" before Yixing had pulled her so roughly she had to pause what she was saying to yell at him.

"What was that for? That was really rude of you!"

Yixing responded with a tense silence. Mei sighed frustratedly.

"I didn't even get to know their names. I've never really had any friends before, and they could have been my friends," she added quietly.

There was another beat of silence. Then: "But I'm your friend. And you're my friend. That's good enough, right?"

"...I guess so. But I still want to see them."

"No."

She was angry then. He had no right whatsoever to order her around. No right at all!

"Why? I can do what I want," she had huffed.

"You can't see them tomorrow. You'll be seeing me, and I'm going to go to your house and we're going to swim. You like swimming, right?"

Yes, she does. She loves swimming with all her heart; it is a part of her, and it is the reason she does not walk. He must have figured it out by the way her eyes twinkled - her mother used to tell her that her eyes turned into jewels when she talked about the water.

Mei couldn't argue with him when the ocean was involved.

 

And that was why she is now sitting on the porch of her house, waiting for Yixing to show up. Dinner, which, by the smell of it, seemed to be chicken soup. It is a dish that Mrs. Yuan claims to be her most mouth-watering of all, and Mei can not argue with that statement. Just the savory aroma of the food tingles in her nostrils and makes her stomach ache. But she can't eat, not when she's about to go swimming. It will just upset her stomach, so she grits her teeth and eagerly awaits her friend's arrival.

Yixing is exactly one hour, thirty-two minutes, and seven seconds late. Not that she was counting.

She doesn't let herself open to question him. He is already spouting out an excuse as he walks up the long driveway, his cheeks rosy and his breathing labored.

"I'm sorry, there was-"

"It's fine, it's fine," Mei says, waving her hand, waving his excuse away. "Let's just get swimming, I'm impatient."

"O-okay, I guess."

And so they walk inside the house, mainly because Yixing wants to meet her "family", and he offers a timid greeting towards Mrs. Yuan, who is scrutinizing him with a cautious eye. Her grandchildren drift out of their rooms, the smell of food luring them out. They offer Yixing polite nods, but other than that, he is ignored; the three boys do not talk much, and Mrs. Yuan's only granddaughter is too shy to say anything.

Mei prevents any more awkward moments to happen and grabs his wrist, leading him back out the door.

"I don't see why I had to climb this long driveway if we're just going to go back down it again," Yixing comments.

Mei responds by pinching his arm. He lets out a squeak which he will probably claim to be a manly scream later. Later is when he punches her back teasingly and mutters that it did not hurt at all.

And so they swim for the rest of the day, hidden away from the ocean's jealous waves in a cove that Mei had found years ago.

Mei is lost in her own world and all Yixing does is stare at her.

She doesn't notice, too caught up in the way the sea caresses her lovingly and the feeling of being submerged in water, the pressure of the water above her covering her like a blanket. He sighs and wades in a corner by himself.

He thinks he has already lost, but maybe he will just have to work harder.