"The sea is beautiful," I said to him. "Tell me a poem about the sea."

He chuckled, his laugh equally charming as the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. "What makes you think I can create a poem on the spot for you?"

"Because you're observant, and you're good with words - better than I am." I looked out at the horizon, where the currents were illuminated by the full moon. We sat on the back of  the red pick-up truck, where a blanket was spreaded for us to lounge on the edge of the cliff. "Hurry up, I'm waiting."

"Alright alright, let me think about it," and he thought for long minute. 

'My mother once told me to be afraid of the water,
she warned me of the dangers of the tides;
But it was years after that I realized,
Hidden under the sea was a bed of white lies'

'In the end I fell in the sea due to my sense of adventure,
I was willing to take the risk, tempted to test my limits,
all to my heart's desire.'

'Karma got the best of me, my boat crashed against the rocks,
the white mast was torn by the wind;
Death was awaiting by its clock.'

As his words lingered on the last stanza, his eyes turned to look at me - I was perplexed, infatuated by his gaze so much that I had to swallow that lump forming in my throat. His hand was next to mine and his fingers started tracing circles on the back of my hand. I cleared my throat, "Um, do continue."

'It was years later when my pieces,
had sunk to the bottom of the ocean;
And was rediscovered, it may have been due to luck,
You happened and everything changed,
all you had to do was talk.'

'You persuaded me to love myself
To pick up the pieces the waves left me in,
you were the one who could help me,
be comfortable in my skin.'

He edged closer to me so that I could hear his breathing. His lips were next to my ear, as if daring me to either move away or closer. 

''No matter your wreckage' you said, 
'someone will always love you for you who are';
Your cracks, your splinters, your heart that was severed,
I promise you, I'll keep forever.'

Every time his lips brushed my ear, I could feel him trying to make me even more drawn to him. I wanted to do so, so badly, but I somehow did not want to give him this temptation. My face turned to him, eyes closed, weary - every nerve in my body was tense. "Who were you talking about - in the poem?" I asked in a hushed tone.

"I think that's up for the listener to guess. Are you, were you - scared of the ocean once by chance?" he asked back.

I let out the breath, "There are more things to be afraid of..."

"What things?"

"You." I blurted, before I could think it through. "The epitome of you scares me, the thought of you just sitting next to me like this - scares me.My thoughts of you make me afraid of myself." and I told him all this with my eyes closed. 

"If you could turn back the clock, would you change anything Timothy?" 

I pursed my lips, "I would tell you that I love you, and that the only reason why I can't get a grip of myself is because you're the reason for it all.I'd tell you I'd swim every ocean just to get to you, even if I'd drown." my mind was racing, I had told him what I felt. There was no saving this-

"Kiss me then, if that does the trick." he said. "Timothy Armor, aren't you listening? I want you to kiss me." and when I couldn't react to it, he held the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss. Our lips touched-

I kissed him and I kissed him and I kissed him-

*Timothy's P.O.V*

I woke up in the dark.

My eyes faced the walls of our dorm, I had stirred from my hangover. It was probably around two or three in the morning, because it was dead silent and Mark wasn't one to snore. A knot had tied in my stomach from the dream that was still replaying in my mind, the imagery so vivid it made me have goosebumps. My fingers traced my lips, even the nonexistent feeling still lingered - that longing for that feeling to be real. 

I was asking for something so wrong it became fake to comfort me in my dreams.

Slowly, my hands fumbled under my shirt to feel the sea glass necklace. It was a lovely aqua blue gem strapped onto a leather cord, it was a gift from him last year during his trip to Montauk over the summer holidays. 

I held it to my lips and kissed it for comfort, it was the only thing close enough to what I yearned of doing, and deep under the currents of my heart - I was cursing at myself for fulfilling my guilty pleasure. I shouldn't be fueling myself with that much yearning of something I would never have. It would only make it worse. 

I was careful to not make any sounds to wake him up, just in case he still wasn't asleep. I calmed myself down before turning my back away from the wall where I would have to see his face. Forget about it forget about it, I reminded myself. To my surprise, his bed was empty with the covers still neat if not left with signs of someone sitting on it a while ago. 

I got to my feet, and frowned. Mark always slept earlier that I did, and would wake up later than I did - and according to my phone at that time, it was four in the morning. "Mark?" I opened the bathroom door, and he wasn't there. It was so late, it was unlikely for him to be out and about at this hour. 

I tried calling him, five times before I gave up. Then I texted him, on all social platforms and DMs but to no avail. A surge of concern started to fill me, even though I should have been assured because he was old enough to be on his own. But at this hour?

I put on my jacket and left the room to find him somewhere else.

'A poem is never finished, only abandoned.' -Paul Valery-

I pondered on that particular sentence while stopping at the side of the road. I had been driving for the past four hours, after camping out in the car for the night. It had been too dark to really do anything, so I had decided to park by the sidewalk to snooze. Miraculously, I did not have any dreams - and it made me even more sure that I was doing the right thing to leave for a while.

I continued driving as soon as dawn broke, without knowing how far had I fled. The first dot on the map was located twenty miles away from where I was, I double-checked and discovered there was a town there. Hopeful, I started driving and didn't stop until I was close. At the back of my mind, I actually had doubts of my plan - because I barely had thought it through before. All I wanted was to just run away, and for no particular reason. I had mainly two concerns.

One, I wasn't very sure where I was headed to. Two, how far was this going to take me?

My wallet had enough money to support me, and there was my credit card for emergencies. But the thought of doing all this alone scared the living lights out of me, I had no one to depend on this time, much less ask for help. I was aware of the texts and missed calls from Donghyuck and Timothy and pretty much everybody else - but that didn't change my plans. I knew I wanted to do this until the end, no matter how long it would take.

I flipped the pages, to which I could feel my mom's presence through her poetry. It made me smile, because I really did have something in common with her. Her collection of poems were brilliant, her thoughts were poured on paper for me to read. And this made me the more eager to find the missing pages that she hid, and I was sure it had everything to do with this hunt.

"'Carlito's Shoppe'..." I murmured as I studied the map carefully, it was the only thing written above the dot so it had to be the place. I had my car parked at the side of the road, opposite of the shop at the moment. It was an old diner within a gas station - in the middle of nowhere (okay fine, there was a town a few miles ahead but still...) It looked like something out of an old comic, or a 90s movie. 

The door opened with a cheerful ding! that didn't exactly match the atmosphere. The shop was pretty much empty, with faint scratchy sounds from the radio on the counter. Sunlight peeked through the old window blinds, brighter than the shop itself. A few customers were either sipping stale coffee or simply silently reading days old newspapers. 

I huddled over to the counter and sat on one of the seats and was greeted by the man cleaning the glasses. "Anything to order, buddy?" he asked me.

I shrugged, "Anything nice will do." 

He grinned, "Our signature milkshake then, hold on a minute." 

The boredom and awkwardness made me drum my fingers, fiddle with my sleeves and finally I opted to reopen the journal to go through more poems. The man came back later and passed me the milkshake. He looked around before leaning closer to talk to me, "Shouldn't you be in school now, buddy? You don't seem to be from here too. Skipping class?" he raised a cheeky eyebrow. 

I swallowed my drink, "Y-yeah, I suppose so. I'm actually looking for something, it means a lot to me." I thought before asking the question. "Um, so have you been running this place this whole time, sir?" The man had greying hair, in an apron and a bearded face. "Are you Carlito?"

He chuckled, "Yes, I have been around ever since this place was in business and no, I am not Carlito. It's a combination of my name and my wife's, Carlos and Lolita's shop. It a nice thought though, my wife once in a while. She died eight years ago, cancer took her away from me." he sighed.

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir."

"Ah, it's nothing really. Life goes on, you know? The only regret I have is that ever since she left, it was as if she took all the joy and business with her too. This place has never been the same, we used to have youngsters coming for midnight snacks every weekend - we even had movie screenings. But now it seems as if there are more exciting things to do than that, you have cities to go to, malls, all that jazz. I can only blame time for not treating us kinder." then he frowned. "Then whatever reason are you doing here in the middle of nowhere?" 

"I think my mom used to come here with her friends and she left something, clues, for some sort of treasure hunt. So now I'm trying to connect the dots, and this was the first place she marked on the map." I showed him the journal and the map. The man scratched his chin.

"Hmm, interesting. May I know your mother's name? I have a good memory." 

"Marissa, sir. Marissa Lee." 

"And that was how long ago?"

"Two decades ago, I guess?" and as I said that, I knew Carlos would hardly help. I wouldn't blame him, who would remember a random customer that dropped by twenty years ago?

"Hold on, I believe I have a solution," and he disappeared under the counter to search for something. When he came back, he brought along an old looking album, thick and dusty. He blew away the dust. "Since so many teenagers used to drop by, Lolita thought it'd be nice if we kept those memories in pictures. She would lend them her camera and all these people would give their photos in return, after her death no one quite remembered about this tradition. Have a look and maybe you might find whatever it is you're searching for?" 

"T-thanks, sir." I answered before looking throught the album. It was indeed old, the first photo dated back to as early as the late 90s. Teens dressed up in retro clothing of that era, then it transitioned to more modern and more developed pictures. My hand came to a stop when one particular picture caught my eye, a surge of excitement buzzed through me.

It was her.

I could recognize her radiant smile anywhere, no matter what age she was. As of that picture, she looked very young - around the same age as in the photos Aunt Tiffany had given me. She was posing with a larger group of friends, next to her was no other than Aunt Tiffany herself. I knew I had found the right place. I tried taking out the photo from its slits, and felt something else behind the picture. 

I turned it around, and realized something else had been stuck to it. A yellowish sheet of paper, so thin it looked like preserved artifact stuck together with a paperclip and a torn fragment of what I could guess was another photo. 

Holding my breath, I unfolded the paper carefully and on the paper contained a poem - it was my mom's handwriting. I was so happy I almost felt my eyes swelling up with tears. 

Carlos and Lolita

'You were the moon, and I was the stars,
I was the Bonnie to your Clyde,
You looked into my eyes and said you'll never scar,
This young heart of mine - we tried.'

'I do not blame you, for every wrong that we both did,
because I'm a hopeless romantic, and I treat my wounds like gifts,
for every cut and bruise karma showered behind the back of what love hid,
'Twas you and your forbidden kiss.'

'You were the Carlos to my Lolita,
the smile I can never replace;
An epitome of everything I love,
the spade to my Ace.'

*Donghyuck's P.O.V*

"You said he disappeared how long ago?!" I exclaimed the second Timothy Armor told me about Mark going missing. I had been calling him ever since yesterday afternoon, and he never even picked up the phone. Not even a simple text.

"Why isn't he answering?" I had asked myself while I was back in our room, with Felix lying on my bed as he read a comic book. Aunt Tiffany and Doc were aware of the situation, and were just as concerned as I was. It wasn't like Mark to ignore a call, on purpose. 

"I'm sure he has a good reason, Donghyuck," Felix had tried assuring me. "You know Mark, he might be in the middle of something important."

"Yeah, and that is not Mark," I told him. "It's not like him to forget to call me. Something's going on, I'm sure about it."

Felix frowned, "And how sure are you about that?"

"Because that's Mark, when he has a problem - he shuts himself down from everyone else."

"Kind of like you?" Felix shot back, I raised an eyebrow and then he shrugged. "I'm just saying why can't you be more concerned about me like you with him?" 

"Are you jealous?" I joked, he had thrown a pillow at me.

Then unexpectedly later that day, a random number had called me - Timothy Armor. And when he said he was worried if Mark had gone missing and unintentionally left a note, I knew I had to head over. So there we were, riding on Felix's bike all the way to campus. 

"I realized he was missing around four in the morning," Timothy explained. "I got worried so I tried going out to search for him just in case, but he was nowhere to be found. Then at sunrise only did I see that poem he wrote on his desk, I'm not sure if it means anything but still..."

There was no way I could decode whatever he wrote, I didn't understand poetry like he did. All I saw was random words sprinkled on paper.

'Leave me alone, I need some time to think about us.
Leave me alone, I need some time to think.
Leave me alone, I need some time.
Leave me alone.
Leave me.
Leave.'

"All I'm getting from this is that he just wants to be left alone to think." I groaned. "I'm no poet, I can only see the obvious."

"-and that's actually all there is to the poem, Donghyuck." Tim replied. "The message is pretty simple, Mark left to think about something and we don't know what it's about. Has he been through hard times lately?"

"I don't think so, unless..." it occured to me that he never really got over Riley, and she may be the reason for his departure. "God, Mark Lee..." I sighed. "And there's no trace of him, he's probably on the other side of the country by now doing who knows what?"

"Does Mark have a GPS?" Felix cut in after being silent for so long. "Give me your phone."

I handed it to him, "Yeah, but how can that help find him?"

Then he grinned as he looked at me, "Thank me later, Lee." he said before I looked at the screen.

"What is it?" Timothy questioned.

I couldn't help but love Felix even more for his geniusness. "For someone as smart as Mark, at least he was forgetful enough to not turn off his GPS tracker device."