“If you could have one wish, what would it be?”

Taehyung stares at the grinning tall man behind the counter, and squints, “Huh? I thought you were trying to sell me something: shark tooth necklace, flower fridge magnets, or um I dunno-“ he flutters his hand at the flickering trinkets surrounding him, “-all this, stuff. What’s with the question?”

The tiny store interior is unlit, sunlight slanting through the window by the entrance. Every surface is covered with stands and small shelves and hangers, 90s postcards clamouring for attention next to boxes of Aloha chocolate. Not to be outshone by the merchandises, the salesperson is dressed in a black short sleeve shirt with neon pink flamingos that dance in Taehyung’s vision with each blink.

A shrug, and the man responds, “Hey, every sale is meaningful, an exchange of trust. Anyways, back to my question, whatcha looking for in life? Money, fame, eternal youth? What is it?” His arms are splayed over the chipped glass counter, torso leaning towards Taehyung attentively.

Taehyung stutters, and spins the display of seashell bracelets next to him with two fingers, “I - I mean, obviously, those are pretty cliche answers to a cliche question - wait, what is this all about, I’m still confused.”

The salesman hums thoughtfully, and pulls back, “Interesting. None of those.” He steps away to the other end of the counter, and starts to retract something from underneath, “Just passing by, you said?”

“Yeah. Well…” Taehyung tugs on the strap of his backpack absently, “It’s a nice town for tourist like me, right?”

The tall man strides back with a tray in hand, “Maybe. We do welcome almost everyone here at Halaina. Island hospitality, I suppose.” Another blinding smile, and Taehyung tugs on the wallet in his pocket instinctively. But the tray in front of him steals his gaze - rings and pendants of various colors and design, glistening in the flimsy white plastic tray.

Dark ruby, mother of pearl, polished silver carved into a blooming rose - objects after objects, dazzling and overwhelming. Taehyung dips his head down, “Pretty…”

“Yes, only the best.” The voice next to him turns quiet and distant, “So, what are you looking for?”

Sapphire blue, worn out steel, bronze tarnished by time…

Taehyung’s eyes flit and scan, and lands on a gem in the corner. His voice is flat, thoughts a little lost, “Looking for… Not looking for anything, really… peace of mind, I guess, but who has the luxury for that nowadays…”

It’s small, a polished rock set on a thin silver ring, Taehyung realizes, as he holds it up to take a closer look. But what piques his interest is the pattern on the rock, a bright stripe of reddish orange cutting through hazy dark green. And one royal blue dot right in the center.

It feels both tropical and old. Like it would have stories to tell, if the right person is listening.

The man behind the counter exclaims softly, “Ah, great choice. Peace of mind, you said.”

Taehyung hums, and tries the ring on his index finger, “Unique color. Too bad I’m not a ring person.”

“Well, life is full of surprises, isn’t it.” The man pushes the tray aside, and his dark eyes gleam with excitement, “You know this ring once belonged to King Kamehameha III himself. It’s worth a fortune, but you seem like such a nice person, and I feel that we’ve truly made a connect, you know? So for you, my friend, I’m willing to part with this precious heirloom for - $15.95. Practically a steal, wouldn’t you say? But who can put a price on friendship, really. I mean, it would just be cruel to reject such a gesture…”

He arches a brow wistfully, but his fingers graze by the ring on Taehyung’s finger. Soft, delicate touch, like saying goodbye to something personal and meaningful.

Definitely not a piece of made-in-China frivolity too light to even be real stone.

Taehyung thumbs at the polished surface, but doesn’t take the ring off.

“Cash?” The salesman chirps, and tilts his head, jet black bangs flopping down, “So, have you walked around yet? Checked out the banyan tree by the square?”

Taehyung blinks, “Uh…”

“Here.” A glossy tourist map is tossed onto the counter, the borders covered in ads for poke restaurants and “50% off Whale Watching Trip of a Lifetime!”, accompanied by a wiggle of the brows. “Only for my best customer. Oh and if you’re looking for a place to stay, I know somewhere quite affordable. The building owner is a bit of a klutz, but just between the two of us, he can’t bargain for so you’re guaranteed a good deal.”

“No, I don’t need a place. Just passing by.” Taehyung straightens his back and murmurs, “Beautiful town, but I was gonna just head south. Maybe stop for a night or two before checking out a different island. Somewhere smaller, more remote.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” He concurs, but folds up the map and places it next to Taehyung’s hand, “Yes, go south, plenty to see if you love old buildings, then stay on Front street. It’ll eventually end, stick with the gravel road for 15 minutes or so, and you’ll see it.”

“See what?”

A tap on the counter, the glass clinking dully under his hand, “Turquoise Surf Shop. Sappy name, I know. The spare room upstairs has a pretty view though, a nice little reprieve for a young man like you.”

Taehyung shifts the backpack strap digging into the fabric of his black hoodie, “I’m not that young.”

And you’re definitely not much older than me, he eyes the porcelain skin and sparkling eyes again.

There’s no response, just a Cheshire smile half hidden in the shade, bright and cryptic against a backdrop of pink toy ukuleles and faded ocean posters, “My name is Jin, by the way. I look forward to the next time we meet.”

≋

Outside of the trinket shop, the sun caresses his skin, and waves chase and echo in the distance. Taehyung considers tossing the flimsy map, but tucks it into the back pocket instead. Putting on the unconnected earphones, he strides down Front street and meanders through the scattered crowds in solitude.

Fall is in the air, the shops lining both sides of the road are largely empty, with easy-listening ukulele tunes wafting out from time to time. The old colonial buildings are mostly painted in pastel blue and pale yellow, punctured by white awnings and kitschy coastal decors like rope fishnets and wooden pelicans.

Is pelican even Hawaiian? Oh well, the flushed smile plastered on the occasional tourist’s face is unfaltered, and just as infectious. It’s nice to rub shoulder with radiating happiness and boisterous inside jokes, dulls the incessant thoughts on his mind.

After an iced coffee and some more meander with the foamy waves keeping him company, Taehyung reaches an opening with lush trees and the saccharine scent of plumeria in the air.

The dwellings are older now. A hotel of painted bricks faces the beach, with rickety patios and weathered wooden columns. The sound of laughters spill out of the dark bar with open windows.

Taehyung tiptoes away from the water, careful not to get his black Converse wet. The backpack is starting to feel heavier on his shoulders, but he keeps going, finding a pathway between shrubs of honeysuckles. Slowly, the noise recedes, and a tall stately building is in front of him, with a wide courtyard before the entrance. It’s shaded by a wide canopy of intertwined branches and whispering leaves. Wisps of dried roots hang from every crevice of every branch, and dance in the wind with beams of sun ray piercing through here and there. Taehyung’s fingers reach up to graze by the dried roots.

How long have you been here? Have hands from centuries ago touched this very spot?

He lingers, letting the fragmented shade twine into his thoughts. The air is chilled, slowing down the moment, as his gaze lands on carvings on the wide tree trunk- Initials, doodles, imprints of the past that have scabbed over and been absorbed by the ancient banyan tree.

A sudden weariness washes over him, as wind blows through his hoodie and draws a shiver. His eyes land on the benches under the tree, but zoom away when he spots the phone cameras in the tourists’ hands.

Click. Flash. Click. Flash~

His hand reaches up absently to shield from the glaring light, head turns away, their outbursts of laughters stinging his ears. Taehyung winces and backs out of the all enclosing shade, but the gloom seeps into his mind.

His strides pick up pace. A few blocks down, where the road intersects with another due east towards the highway, he finally spots a few cabs, their ember signs bright and alluring from a distance. The backpack weighs heavily on his shoulders - Wailea in the south has nice boutique hotels, or so the airline magazine said.

But stubbornly, his gaze focuses on the gravel road ahead, a wide meandering line extending into the horizon, next to the endless gray beach and foamy waves cutting between sharp black rip raps and unruly shrubs in the water.

A nice little reprieve, the sparkly eyes and porcelain skin fizzle onto his mind.

Taehyung sighs, and against his better judgement, heads towards the gravel road.

The ocean mist is mixed with the scent of shrubs and weed, pushing out memories he ignores for the moment. The pebbles crunch under his feet, and this all begins to feel like a rather silly endeavour. He thumbs at the flimsy ring on his finger, feeling the polished surface against his pads, thoughts jumbled and feet striding forward.

East of him, there are dwellings in the distance, worn out low rise apartment buildings, a retro looking house or two. No longer draped in kitschy cheerfulness, but showing the ravage of time openly, with darkened sidings and small shuttered windows.

After a while, when the nagging instinct of heading back to town becomes more persistent, when he starts to wonder absently if he should’ve grabbed a bottle of water somewhere, he spots a two story house in the distance, the painted white walls peeling in splotches, framed by tall trees with mangled branches and fluttering green leaves.

Walking closer, Taehyung notices the assortment of items laid out around the house - kayaks of red and orange with long paddles lined up neatly beside them, a cluster of boards and plastic bins beside the storage shed behind the house. A small patch of beach opens up in front of the house, with plastic white chairs encircling a dusty picnic table.

The sun is starting to dip lower towards the horizon, casting the shallow water in a pale azure gleam. Taehyung follows the worn out footpath leading to the open front of the house, careful not to step on the tall weed on the sides. Is this trespassing? Is weed considered a lawn?

The main level turns out to be an open shop front, taehyung squints to look, and notices a silhouette seated inside.

Well, here goes nothing. He steps inside, “Um, is this the surf shop?”

The figure looks up and hesitates, “Turquoise? Yes. Although Jungkook left a few hours ago to pick up the last group in town, you’d have to come back tomorrow for the class.”

Taehyung blinks, “No, not here for surfing class. I - um, I honestly don’t know why I’m here.”

The pen in the man’s hand pauses, but his gaze is gentle. Taehyung’s fidgeting hands slow down a tad, he tries again, “So, I heard you might be renting out a room here?”

“Am I?” The man tilts his head, and Taehyung gulps. . But the man’s eyes widen, and exclaims, “Oh yes! The room upstairs. Well, we’ve been talking about renting it out for forever now, couldn’t settle on a price- wait, how do you know about the room? We’ve never posted?”

Taehyung stutters, face flushing, “Ahh, it’s stupid, really. I walked into this store in town, and the owner sold me a ring...”

The man glances at his finger, and chuckles, “Oh, Jin got to you. I’m sorry about that.”

Taehyung scratches his head and walks closer, “It’s ok, was really cheap.”

“You gotta be careful with him. When Jungkook first moved here, Jin almost succeeded in selling him a huge piece of driftwood. Free wood off the beach, to a surfer…” He beams, as he sets the pen down on the notebook in front, and stands up, “He means well though, would prolly give you the money back if you ask him.”

Taehyung nods out of politeness, “I’ll take your words for it.”

“My name is Namjoon by the way.” The tall lanky figure extends a hand out, the strings of his oversized hoodie dangling.

Taehyung shakes it, noticing the firmness of the grip, “Kim Taehyung.”

“Wanna see the room, Kim Taehyung?”

They step out of the dimly lit shop, which upon closer inspection, consists of a row of foldable chairs and goggles and fins piled neatly on the concrete floor. A few posters are taped to the walls - hand signal illustrations, maps of the coast line with bright yellow dots, a handwritten note titled “YOU Are the Key to Reef Conservation”.

Out and to the back of the house, up a set of crumbling concrete stairs, black paint on the metal railing peeling under Taehyung’s touch.

“This is our room.” Namjoon points to the first door on the second level, then stops at the nex one, “And this one used to be storage. Then Jungkook cleaned it out in the summer, and I ended up renovating a bit. I hope you’re not looking for anything fancy,” he smiles sheepishly and unlocks the door, “you’re not, are you?”

Taehyung steps inside, ready for anything. From palaces drenched in gold to attics filled with mildew and mold, he’s seen them all. As long as it’s private, away from the crowds, he’s fine with it. Just a place to sleep, really, just in transit.

The air inside is fresh. A basic room, with an old fabric loveseat in the middle, and a wooden desk and chair combo against one wall. The bed by the window looks to be a double, the mattress bare.

Taehyung glances at the tiny bathroom on the side, and walks towards the window. Blue - pale, glimmering, endless and blending into the horizon. Taehyung exhales slowly, “Do the surfing trips depart from here?”

“Water too shallow out here. We meet with the surfers in town.” Namjoon pipes up behind him, “You walked in from town, right? I'm sorry it’s not the most convenient location. If you prefer something closer, I totally understand.”

“How long do I have to rent it for?” Taehyung pulls his backpack off and drops it on the mattress.

“Hmm, whatever you want, I suppose? What you in town for - surfing, hiking? You don’t look like the party type.” Namjoon fluffs his hair.

“Maybe a week then? Would that be ok? How much do you want for a week?”

“Oh. Um - huh, I dunno.” Namjoon stammers, leg leaning onto the back of the worn couch awkwardly, “Damn, I wish Jungkook was here, he’s better at this stuff than me. Um, 300? No, that seems like a lot for a tiny room… 200? Also you can share the wifi with us if you want, pretty spotty though. Hmm, maybe lower then…”

Namjoon is mumbling now, neck bowing down. Taehyung smiles, remembering what Jin said about bargaining, and waves his hand before the price dips dangerously towards double digit, “300 is fine. No wifi.”

Namjoon frowns, “Hmm. Are you sure? I mean, to be honest, you could just stay here for a few nights for free, not like we’re using it-“

“Namjoon.” He likes the name, rolls off his tongue with ease, as if he’s known him for longer than ten minutes. Taehyung hopes absently that the security check goes well, and eyes the dead bolt on the door. “It’s ok, 300 is more than fair. I do apologize ahead of time though for not being social, just wanna have some time off. I’m sure you understand.”

His lips curl up sweetly, and as expected, Namjoon’s expression softens, “Oh of course, everyone deserves privacy on their vacation. We won’t bug you, I promise.”

Taehyung nods and accepts the key Namjoon hands over with both hands. They talk for a bit longer, Namjoon showing him the cupboard with the tiny sink and hot plate, and promising to leave fresh bedsheets and towels by the door right away.

When Namjoon finally takes leave, Taehyung locks the door behind him, and glances back at the small room with the endless blue haze shifting and rolling outside the window. He collapses onto the mattress, and closes his eyes to listen to nothing but the echoing of the waves, lapping and receding, lapping, receding…

Serenity, inexplicably… Taehyung lets out a long shaky exhale.

His mind drifts onto the laptop inside the backpack for a fraction of a second, before weariness takes over and his body finally slacks.

The dreams are monotoned, dark undertows that sweep him away and crash down all around him. His limbs grow powerless, thoughts numb, too tired to resist being tossed about. Instead of struggling, he lets go, sinking into the web of light beams and ruffling shadows. Sinking, falling, willing for it to take over.

Suddenly, sounds pierce through the weightlessness. The low rumble of an engine, tires crunching over gravel. Sounds from the material, practical world, dragging him out of the dwelling hollowness, imbuing his body with sensations again - the hardness of the mattress against his stiff and bunched up jeans, the heaviness of his eyelids as they flutter weakly against the dim daylight in the room.

Then voices, one softer but agitated, picking up speed under his window. The conversation continues, a low humming buzz just loud enough to hear if he tries. Taehyung grumbles, and reluctantly, slowly, pushes himself up and inches closer towards the window.

The colors outside are tinted in golden and red, a light breeze blowing through the half opened window. There’s a silhouette facing towards the house, face dipped low. Ripped white tee, fluffy black hair that shifts as he talks and gestures animatedly. Taehyung leans in and catches bits of his voice, young and earnest, “...couldn’t follow instructions… freaked out when the water got choppy…”

The other voice is lower, more sparse, “It’s ok, it’s fine, Gookie, you did well-“

“But they want to book for a scuba trip too, … calling back…”

“It’s ok. Hey I tried to text you, we have a guest now… one week… talk inside…”

Some shuffling, the voices muffle and float away. Taehyung leans in more, cranking his neck to try to catch the silhouette again, but it’s gone.

He sits on the bed, dwelling in the drowsiness. His ears perk up at the faint footsteps by the stairs outside.

Tomorrow - get water and food, a quick surrounding check, emails for some basic intel, maybe a casual and brief introduction in person…

Tomorrow.