Baekhyun’s in English class when he decides to visit Hawaii for summer vacation. He’s never been overseas, and the poster boasting eye-catching tropical colors and tanned beach bodies keeps drawing his attention away from the front of the classroom.

He’s watched parts of travel documentaries on television. Sometimes, the bars American soldiers frequent play old surf movies. Elvis Presley seems to be a beach staple, musically, crooning to the beach beauties. Beyond surfing, beaches, grass skirts, and volcanoes, he doesn’t know much about the islands. He can only name one—Hawaii.

“Byun-ssi.”

He has money saved up from his job. His parents would probably lend him money, too, if he asks. Heeyeon works at a travel agency; she can help him figure out flights and places to stay.

“Byun-ssi.”

An eraser bounces off his desk and falls onto his lap. Seokjin taps his eraser-less pencil on his notebook and disguises the gesture pointing up front as rubbing his nose.

Baekhyun finds the professor frowning at him. Her oversized glasses are halfway down her nose. Never a good sign. She must have been calling him for a while. “Yes?”

“Did you hear what I just said?” It’s best to be honest.

“No.” The class muffles their laughter.

The professor sighs. “There is still a week and a half until summer vacation. Do not check out just yet.” She scans the rest of the room for other inattentive pupils, but Baekhyun served as a good example. “Same goes for all of you! You have a test on Monday—study chapters twelve and fourteen in particular.” Glowering at the group, she sighs again and waves a hand. “Dismissed. Come to me with any questions. I will be in my office tomorrow but not Friday.”

Baekhyun takes Seokjin’s pencil and jams the eraser back into it, thanking him.

“You missed most of the lecture. Will you be alright?” Seokjin frowns a little at his mutilated eraser.

“Well, if you’re offering me notes, I won’t say no to such kindness…” Baekhyun smiles brightly when he’s handed a notebook. “Let’s go sit somewhere. I’ll copy it and give it back right away.”

The library has the windows open. It’s rather humid with them open, but the air conditioning is notoriously bad in just about every building on campus except for the administration buildings. How suspicious.

Parking himself at a table, Baekhyun immediately begins to copy Seokjin’s neat but cramped writing. His friend pulls out a textbook for another class but just props his elbow on it, looking out the window. Someone on another floor has a radio on. Seokjin sings the lyrics under his breath, “When I become a gust of wind and stand in the street… You become a streetlight and stay by my side… My mom loves this album.”

“It’s a pretty song,” Baekhyun comments.

“I thought with President Park’s assassination, censorship would lighten up a bit. Obviously not,” he scoffs. “Some of my friends were complaining again, because their groups are being denied at festivals.”

“What kind of music do they play?”

“Hard rock. Heavy metal. Whatever. Definitely not something my mom would enjoy.” He lays his head down, pillowed on his arms.

Baekhyun snorts softly and nods. His mom enjoys American rock ‘n roll, from when she was a young woman, but she doesn’t consider the sound now to even be music and appreciates the shift back to mellow, romantic ballads.

“You have anything planned for break, yet?” His friend rolls his head back and forth over his arms. “I’m thinking Hawaii.”

Seokjin squints at him, an incredulous expression. “Aren’t there sharks in Hawaii?”

“Only in the water.” Baekyhun flips a page to see how much more he has to write. Sometimes Seokjin takes notes on things he doesn’t have to, but he’s on the last page. His hand is starting to cramp. “Besides, that was the Atlantic. Different ocean.”

“Still sharks,” Seokjin mutters. He hasn’t set foot in the ocean since Spielberg’s summer blockbuster broke all sense of aquatic security.

“Have you heard anything from your friend in Gwanju?”

Seokjin doesn’t answer. Baekhyun thinks he’s asleep, but he turns his head and looks towards the lines of bookshelves. “I did,” he sighs. “His sister’s doing better.”

Baekhyun finishes his notes and hands his friend’s notebook back with a grateful smile. “That’s good.”

“It’ll be better once the government sorts itself out. The general’s coup obviously didn’t help.” They’ve both heard about student groups trying to schedule meetings, recruit new members, and arrange some sort of demonstration or protest. Neither has joined anything, as far as they’ve shared, but Baekhyun suspects that may be a big part of why his mom agrees so readily when he suggests going to Hawaii for summer vacation.

“It’s almost break, Mom, and I wanna do something with my youth.” His brother dodges one of Baekhyun’s flailing hands. Baekhyun tries to talk with his hands in his pockets, but they escape on their own. “Experience life or whatever. My English grades have always been good. I like the ocean. It’s perfect!”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea!”

Baekbom looks at their mother in shock. She’s always kept her children close, forming intimate bonds and deep trust with both boys. Neither have been away from home long. Even weekend camping trips or sleepovers make her anxious.

That she agrees so readily is suspicious and, frankly, unfair. Baekbom only gets to do stuff he wants to do because he’s too old to be told otherwise.

Baekhyun sticks his tongue out at his brother and launches into the speech he’d practiced. “I talked to my friend who works at the travel agency. Heeyeon said it’s about a nine hour flight, direct from Seoul to Honolulu. Late night is cheapest but still kinda pricey. Beyond that,” he shrugs, “we found a room to rent with food included, and I really just plan to meander the islands.”

“I’ll talk to your father once he gets home.” Like with anything, as long as Baekhyun does well in his classes and doesn’t slack off, his dad is happy to let him go off and have fun. So while he doesn’t completely ace his exams—formulas always trip him up—he passes easily and gets to boast about his impending tropical vacation.

 

He sleeps the entire flight. His luggage is the second to last to emerge down the shute to the carousel. Outside, he squints back at the five-story airport building. It isn’t at all what he imagined. Quite ugly, really, but it’s clean and functional.

The first thing he notices about Hawaii is he blends in. There are just as many various Asian cultures as there are white people, and he hears at least four different languages just standing beside the building.

The second thing he notices is he can look to his left or just over his right shoulder and see water. From the air, the islands didn’t look all that big, but on the ground, they seem even smaller. It’s surprising so many people and buildings can fit and not make the island sink.

Directions to the house he’s staying are in his front jeans pocket. A man bumps into his shoulder and doesn’t apologise. Baekhyun grabs his suitcase and sits on a nearby bench.

His host’s house is just over seventeen miles from the airport. Too far for Baekhyun to want to walk. Yellow cabs dot traffic, but he’s suddenly forgotten all of his English.

What can he do? He can’t just hover around the entrance of the airport and wait to be claimed as a lost child; he’s too old for such sympathy. He should’ve planned better. The distance between the airport and the house didn’t look so far on a map.

His host’s telephone number is written on the corner of the map. He remembers it as he’s rubbing the corner of the paper between sweaty fingerpads. Heeyeon had assured Baekhyun that the lady sounded really nice, when she’d made the reservation. Baekhyun chews his lip and puts the map back into his pocket, grabbing his luggage to return inside to find a phone.

A man excuses himself, slipping around Baekhyun after hanging up the pay phone, and Baekhyun takes his place. The phone number is rather short, just seven digits and an area code that covers all of the islands.

The flowers of his lei get in the way; he takes it off and lets it hang from his arm. As the phone clicks and dials, he chews his knuckle and watching an advertisement playing on a television across from the wall of phones, showing highlights of the islands.

“Hello?”

“H-Hi! This is Baekhyun… Is Mrs. Kim there?”

“Speaking, dear. Have you landed?”

“Um, yes. I’m at the airport—”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” There’s shuffling on her end, a distant muttering, and then she’s apologizing again. “I wanted to be there when you landed. Sit tight, alright? I will be there in about half an hour.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Baekhyun returns to the bench outside and tucks his luggage beside him. The pocket travel guide Heeyeon gave him is in an outside pocket. It shows translations of useful phrases like foods and directions from Korean to English, so he quizzes himself, although they’re mostly first-year vocabulary.

At least the weather’s nice. His skin feels pleasantly warm in the sun that falls over his feet. The building throws a deep shadow towards the road. A breeze carries the smell of ocean water and grilled meat from the restaurant down the street. Some guides try to draw customers in as they stream out of the airport, heading for the line of waiting taxi cabs. A long bus with yellow, orange, and brown stripes rests opposite teh cabs; a bus driver wearing a boldly patterned shirt loads luggage into the lower compartments.

He watches jets take off and land. A couple of helicopters buzz through the sky farther inland.

A white Bug pulls in front of the taxi line. There’s a dented roof rack and beginnings of rust showing along the wheel wells. The driver, a short, tanned woman with a tight perm and wearing a floral print dress and sandals, steps out and waves. “Baekhyun!” She opens the rear of the car, and Baekhyun places his things inside, keeping the book with him. Before he can close the door, he’s caught in a hug and kissed on either cheek. Up close, he notices the fine lines around her eyes and mouth, probably from smiling so much.

“Aloha, and welcome to O’ahu! I’m Kimberly Kim. Call me Auntie Kim, dear.” Her Korean is perfect, and he can’t say how grateful he is, although a little voice complains in English at the back of his head that he should get in some practice as long as he’s here.

“Thank you!” He ignores the English voice and bows, smiling broadly. She replaces the lei around his neck with a fond smile. She really is a nice lady.

Talkative, too. She closes the rear door and settles back in the driver’s seat. Baekhyun climbs into the passenger seat and buckles the seat belt. “Now, when we get home, just set your things inside and go explore! You can unpack later. If you don’t eat dinner elsewhere, you’re always welcome at our table.”

They pull away from the curb, and Auntie Kim picks up the role of tour guide. The southernmost area of the island, her home, is apparently a residential area boasting a variety of attractions and activities, from snorkeling to bodysurfing to swimming with dolphins. If he feels like hiking, a steep trail rewards the adventurer with sweeping sea views, and within the crater, the local botanical garden shelters rare desert plants.

He's never really been interested in either, but he'll try anything once.

It seems like everyone is outside, a blur of bold color and floral patterns. Boys and girls weave among the foot traffic on skateboards. Fashion is much more relaxed, taking the tropical heat and humidity into account. A line queues outside of a single-screen movie theater showing the newest Lucas sci-fi sequel. At least two billboards congratulate a state university baseball team for advancing to the College World Series.

Everything is colorful and warm. Baekhyun readily leans out the open window a little, letting the wind throw his sweaty hair back.

It’s a very pleasant drive, with the windows rolled down and radio playing disco softly. They turn off the highway onto residential streets and finally a gravel driveway. Auntie Kim’s house is a bungalow with a wide front porch and multitudes of flowering plants that tumble over one another and even fall over the porch railing. Nearby is a similar house, painted yellow rather than blue, and a hut covered in long, dry grass sits back between the two.

“My sister and her children live next door,” Auntie Kim explains. She parks beside a yellow Jeep without doors and puts the car keys over the sun visor. “I’d recommend going to the beach, first. It’s the best way to meet people and get to know the island. My nephews should be there, now. They’re about your age.”

“How do I get there from here?”

She gestures for him to follow, setting his smaller bag beside an open bedroom door, then walks through the house and opens the back door. “Straight through the lanai and park across the street, until you hit the water. Left for snorkeling and surfing; right for fishing. Swimming is anywhere it’s wet. The pond is nice, if you’d rather not fight with the waves.”

After changing out of his jeans into more comfortable shorts, Baekhyun leaves his travel guide and meanders through the backyard.

There’s a line of trees that separates the beach from the grassy part of the island. Crossing that, he’s struck with the full force of the tropical sun hanging in a cloudless sky.

People of all ages and nationalities roam the beach, and he hears the same mishmash of languages that he heard at the airport. He also hears his name and stops, sinking a bit further into the warm sand. A boy about his age jogs across the street, a towel over his shoulders. He has a pleasant smile, although he may not be able to help it—his lips seem to curve naturally, like a cat’s. His clothing is casual, revealing faint tan lines around his upper arms, and rather than sandals, he’s barefoot.

“Hi. I’m Jongdae. Auntie Kim is my actual aunt. The room you’re staying in is my cousin’s.”

Baekhyun’s surprised again at the fluent Korean. “Oh…”

“She told me you’re exploring. I can show you around, if you’d like.” He starts walking, and Baekhyun follows. “Just for the day, though. I’m going back to the mainland tomorrow. School.”

Baekhyun has a little bit of trouble walking on the sand. He should have changed into sandals; he feels like half the beach is in his socks already.

They walk around a pile of large driftwood. Every so often, there’s another pile. Jongdae says they’re set for bonfires, because the wood is plentiful, and it means not chopping down healthy trees. “So how do you like our island so far?” he asks.

“It’s very pretty.” Baekhyun’s never seen palm trees in person. They don’t even look like a tree should, to him; he’s used to deciduous trees like oak or conifers like Christmas trees. “I really didn’t expect so many Koreans.”

“My mom’s only third-generation American. Her great-grandparents came here for plantation work. Family and friends followed.” He shrugs. “It’s a common story here. There really aren’t many ‘native’ Hawai'ians, anymore, but we all try to preserve the culture however we can.” He grins at Baekhyun. “My little brother’s pretty passionate about it. About the only other thing he’s as passionate about is surfing.

“Oh, there he is.” Baekhyun follows Jongdae’s finger and spots a surfer barreling down a wave on a comparatively diminutive surfboard. Everything seems to be going smoothly, but they suddenly pitch sideways, falling into the water, and are rolled over by the wave. “He’s alright,” Jongdae assures. “He’s fallen more times than he’s ridden all the way in.” Sure enough, a head of dark hair pops up, bobbing a moment, then disappears again.

The surfer stands up and wades through shallower water, and Baekhyun gapes.

It’s like the sun, sand, and surf had a really wild , and the culmination of their beach activities brought the most gorgeous baby into the world.

Baekhyun surreptitiously wipes his lip, feeling for drool. Jongdae smiles. “He has that effect on people.” He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts. “You so hungry for lunch you’re eating sand, kaikaina?”

The boy looks up, turning his whole body as he’s tangling his hair into a messy topknot. “Jongdae!” He abandons the hairdressing and runs as best he can across the sand.

It’s worse up close. He’s taller than Baekhyun and Jongdae, smiles with dimples, and wrings out his shorts like he doesn’t have the strongest looking thighs ever. His tan makes the neon seem even more vibrant. Small acne scars stand out along his straight jaw, still a little soft with baby fat.

“Jongin, this is Auntie’s boarder, Baekhyun Byun. He’s from Seoul.”

“Aloha! Auntie makes the best laulau on the island. Chicken, fish, pork—her’s is the best.” Jongin’s smile turns sheepish, shoulders pulling up a little. “You were watching, though, huh?”

“You were impressive!” Baekhyun says honestly. “I’ve never surfed before; it’s something I kind of want to try, but I will probably break something and go home in a cast.”

Jongin shakes his head and combs his fingers through his hair again, pulling it back into a ponytail. “I can teach you! People rarely get seriously hurt. The worst is when you get hit with your own board or fall so deep you hit coral or something.”

“Way to sell it, Jongin.” Jongdae claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Looking behind him, he lifts his chin. “He’s waiting for you.”

“Who?” Jongin turns, and a wide smile breaks across his face. “See you later, okay?” He jogs to the handsome man Baekhyun hadn’t noticed before, standing in the surf with Jongin’s surfboard, hugging him with an arm and leaning down for a kiss that has Baekhyun’s cheeks burning.

“Yeah...they’re pretty liberal, even for us Americans. It’s cool, though.”

“Who is he? Jongin’s…” he lowers his voice, “friend?”

“Uh…” Jongdae squints down the beach. An airplane passes overhead, throwing a shadow across him for a moment. “It’s kind of complicated. Not a big deal, though, usually.” He casts a look back towards his brother, who is retelling his last ride with grand gestures and expressions. An large wave crashes around their legs, and Jongin’s nearly knocked off his feet. The other man laughs and catches him easily.

Jongdae watches for a moment then smiles at Baekyhun, almost apologetic. They start walking, not talking again for a little while. It’s not as awkward as Baekhyun feared; it’s nice to just enjoy the scenery, since so much of it is unfamiliar.

He can see either end of the beach, with how it curves with the island. Across the water, he can see the neighboring island, misty and diluted in color. Sea birds cry in the air and on the ground as they scavenge for food scraps or dive for fish.

“It’s actually not as crowded as usual this year,” Jongdae comments. “Paper said it’s the first time visitor numbers have dropped in about thirty years. I guess everyone’s having a hard time.”

“Looks plenty crowded to me,” Baekhyun replies, stepping around a trio of women on towels and immediately side-stepping a pair of children running with kites.

“Well, I doubt people will ever stop coming. It’s too amazing of a place to ignore. Athletes come for the water sports or hiking, and the un-athletic come for the sunbathing and luaus.”

“Are you an advertising major?”

Jongdae shouts a laugh. “No, but I worked with my uncle’s travel agency in high school. I’m a second-year paleontology major.”

Science. The bane of Baekhyun’s existence. He loves the ideas and things they do, but once it gets technical, he’s lost. “Second-year, undecided.” He knows a little bit about a lot of things and enjoys dabbling. “I’d like to get into acting, though. Film making has been in a depression for nearly a decade now, though...” It’s easy to confess things to a stranger. Even as a science major, Jongdae looks sympathetic, then contemplative.

“You don’t have to act for Korean films, though, do you? Or even films in general.” He wipes his face with the end of his towel. “You want a shave ice?”

“What’s that?”

“Basically patbingsu, but better.” He gestures to a concrete table with benches. “Sit down; you can try some of mine.” He’s gone before Baekhyun can say otherwise, so he sits and waits. The food truck is parked a short distance away, and the line is quite long but moves quickly. Patrons leave with paper cones of brightly colored ice that starts to melt before they leave the line. Some laugh as they try to catch what drips over their hand.

It seems that Jongdae knows the vendor, a man that takes up most of the room within the truck. They shake hands like old friends, and although he shakes his head, Jongdae returns with two paper cones—one topped with red ice and the other topped with yellow.

“I hope you’re not allergic to milk; I should’ve asked,” he says, letting Baekhyun pick. “Passion fruit or lychee. They’re both really good.”

“Thank you.” They eat quickly—Baekhyun gets brain freeze and makes Jongdae laugh nearly to tears—then Jongdae continues his tour. It’s mid-afternoon; they pass the botanical gardens but don’t go in. Jongdae points out the direction to a park where people can swim with dolphins and a golf course, because he doesn’t assume anything about people and their preference in sports.

Some people call out greetings that Jongdae cheerfully returns, sometimes stopping to chat briefly. Baekhyun is used to being alone in a crowd and ignoring everybody else. It’s exciting to meet other tourists and islanders. His accent doesn’t stand out; some people even speak Korean. He’s more stunned when Jongdae is kissed on the cheek and speaks in Spanish.

“Sorry,” he apologises with a laugh. “We used to date.”

“You speak Spanish?”

“Sure! A lot of Puerto Ricans live in Hawai’i, actually. Auntie Kim would know better than I would, but I think after English, Tagalog, Ilocano, Japanese, Spanish, and Hawai'ian are the most popular languages. Hawai'ian is dying, though. Even I only know phrases and vocab. My Japanese is stronger.”

“Are you planning on coming to the luau at the hotel tonight?”

Baekhyun nods, watching a duck waddle in the grass. He saw the signs for the luau as they were walking, and Auntie Kim spoke highly of it. “If I don’t sleep through it.”

“Take a nap, then,” Jongdae laughs. “There’s always a luau, if you know where to go, but the ones for the tourists are pretty fun. They’re huge, too, which is both good and bad, I guess. Jongin’s with an entertainment company the hotel hired for tonight.”

Baekhyun yawns behind his hand. He didn’t think he’d be so sleepy after sleeping through his flight, but the time change has its grip on him. He doesn’t realize they’re back at the Kim houses until Jongdae pats his shoulder. “I’ll see you later tonight, okay? Get some rest.”

Auntie Kim already folded down the bedsheets, adorning the pillows with a yellow hibiscus. He’s almost sad to see it; they’re so vibrant and pretty.

Setting it on the bedside table, he flops onto the bed face-first, enjoying the bounciness of the mattress. Spreading his arms and legs, he quickly falls asleep.

 

Auntie Kim wakes him up with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to miss the luau.”

“Thank you…” Baekhyun stretches and yawns. He’s still tired. The sun is lower in the sky, and it feels a little cooler, less humid. A cat hops onto the windowsill and its shoulder.

Jongin walks from his house wearing a button-up printed shirt, wraparound skirt over some of the tiniest shorts Baekhyun’s ever seen, and grass tied around his legs. He fussing with a necklace when Auntie Kim waves to him and cups a hand around . “Are you headed for the hotel? Why don’t you take Baekhyun?”

He offers a thumbs up. “Right on.”

Baekhyun jogs to catch up, and they walk together. The grass skirts around his calves makes a soft noise as Jongin walks, like he’s walking through a field rather than wearing it. “You work at the hotel?”

“I work for the troupe that is hired by the hotel.”

“Acting?”

“Dancing. This year I’m a soloist.”

“What do you dance? Hula?”

Jongin laughs. Dimples carve deep into his cheeks. “No, but I can. I’m a fire dancer.”

“Jongin!” Another boy waves, and Jongin raises an arm.

“He’s part of the troupe, too. I gotta go. Enjoy the luau! The poi is actually pretty good here, if you’re feeling adventurous. And if you stick around, my dance is in an hour.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun feels the crowd close around him, and he’s alone. People mingle with small plates of food and drinks, trying to talk over one another. Some girls in long grass skirts with crowns of deep green leaves try to lead a giggling class in the steps of the hula.

Baekhyun picks some familiar food and walks a circuit through the crowd, watching some children dance and a school choir sing. They’re really cute. Adults dance and sing, as well, and there are demonstrations of traditional instruments that he watches for a while.

If logic serves, the fire dancers should be on the largest stage centered in front of the hotel. It’s plain, with draped fabric hung as a backdrop. Musicians sit off stage. A large crowd has already gathered when Baekhyun feels someone stop beside him at a food stall.

“You didn’t oversleep,” Jongdae comments.

“Your aunt woke me up. I walked here with Jongin.”

Jongdae nods. “I just came from giving him a pep talk. He always gets nervous before a show, no matter how big or small it is. He hates making any mistakes. I said that as long as he doesn’t set his hair or the stage on fire, he’ll do great.” Sounds about right for an older brother. “It should be starting in a little bit.” He points out a plate of golden meat nestled on a bed of rice. It looks kind of plain, but Baekhyun keeps an open mind.

“Oh, it’s good! What is it?”

“Humuhumunukunukuapua’a.”

Baekhyun stops chewing. “What?”

Jongdae laughs. “Triggerfish.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He keeps eating it. The meat is kind of sweet.

“Do you know any of the history of luaus, Baekhyun?”

He’d read a little bit about them in the tour book, but he shakes his head.

“In the early 1800s, King Kamehameha—the second—got rid of all the rules based on religion. There were laws that determined where women could eat and what foods could be eaten and when; it was kinda dumb. To celebrate, though, King Kamehameha hosted a meal to eat with women and completely get rid of the religious taboos for good.” He gestures with his hand, encompassing the crowd. “So we have luaus. A tradition of party culture over one hundred years old.”

“That’s far out. Nothing says ‘party’ like setting things on fire.”

Jongdae chuckles. “Well, the fire dances used to just be knife dances performed before going to war. Someone thought fire would be a good addition, and people have just built on it from there. Fire eating, for example. My mom won’t let Jongin do that. She doesn’t know he’s been practising with knives, either.”

A group of four buff men, all creeping into middle age but dressed similarly to Jongin, enter the stage to applause. Jongdae politely elbows a path for them nearer to the front of the stage.

The performers each carry two long knives, the ends wrapped in flaming towels. They don’t bother introducing themselves, but call a spirited “Aloha!” that the crowd parrots back. It turns into a battle of loudness until the dancers are satisfied, and the drums start.

Baekhyun has seen concerts on television. The bands are hooked up to amplifiers and enormous speakers, but the musicians here play completely acoustic. Instead, the dancers provide the bass with their timed steps, stomps, and shouts. It’s unlike any dance he’s seen before. A war dance makes sense, now.

There’s a spirited hula performed by a young women in a line that stretches across the entire stage. Baekhyun and Jongdae are close enough to hear the sound of their skirts.

Finally, Jongin walks onstage, stony faced like a young warrior. He carries a long baton lit on one end. The drums start after he starts to move, commanding the entire attention of the audience. His stance is solid, but his movements are fluid. Like lava.

He’s not sure why, but Baekhyun notices one of the men in the audience. He appears to be around Baekhyun’s age, and very tall. His attention almost seems too intense. Even more confounding, when Jongin’s head is tilted back and he draws a hand through the fire, it’s almost as if the man is drawn into the flames, igniting the opposite end of the baton. As Jongin spins it, yellow light streaks like a hoop around his arm, and the man jumps back to the crowd.

He notices Baekhyun staring and smiles broadly. There’s bright fire in his eyes and flames behind his teeth.

Jongin finishes his dance by extinguishing the baton in his fists. Smoke slithers from between his fingers, catching the lights from the lamp posts.

It’s enough excitement to make Baekhyun feel exhausted again. Emotionally more than physically. He tells Jongdae, who’s claimed by some friends, and walks back to the house alone.

The sun’s completely set by now. Crickets chirp in the grass, accompanying the party’s drums and ukuleles until Baekhyun’s far enough away to hear their solo concerto.

A light on the porch beside the front door is on, but the house itself looks dark. Auntie Kim must be asleep or at the luau. Baekhyun walks around the house to sit on the lanai. A wicker chaise allows him room to recline and watch the moon over the water. Every so often, a car passes by or people walk passed. Island life as usual.

He sits for an hour or two, letting his mind wander without his consciousness. Next thing he knows, someone is walking across the backyard towards him. Closer, he recognises Jongin.

“Oh, hello, Jongin.” He’s wet; his towel is over his head like a veil. “Were you swimming? Isn’t it dangerous alone?”

The boy shakes his head. “I’m perfectly safe in the water; no worries. I usually swim to relax. Mind if I join you?”

Baekhyun shakes his head.

Jongin is quiet by himself; it’s unexpected. He commanded the stage and carried himself so confidently on his surfboard. It’s cute, though. “How was your first day in Hawai’i?” he finally asks.

“I really like it. Your aunt’s very kind. I’ve never traveled by myself, at least not so far, so I was kind of freaking out for a while, but now that I’m here, it’s like ‘why was I so worried?’” A mosquito buzzes in his ear; he flinches and swats the air. Some familiar things are fine to stay home. “I mean, it’s also kind of strange to just get up one morning, board a plane, travel backwards nineteen hours, and sit on the beach in yesterday.”

Jongin smiles softly. “I’m glad.” He rubs his hair with his towel. “Jongdae’s going back to Berkeley tomorrow for some secret project. His flight’s pretty early, and don’t feel that you have do, but we’re heading to the airport at five thirty to see him off, if you’d like to come with. He seems to like you.”

“Sure.” He can nap during the hotter part of the day, then. “I’ll try, anyway. No promises that I won’t sleep through my alarm.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Good night. And I really enjoyed your dance earlier.” Jongin shyly drapes his towel over his head again and mutters a soft “night.” Baekhyun watches him cross the short distance to the neighboring house, then stop, looking out towards the water. He goes inside the house, and Baekhyun rolls off the wicker chair. Its left an imprint on the backs of his calves.

Overall, he thinks it was a pretty good day, and he’s happy to be in Hawaii.

a/n: Written for OneforAll's first round. (prompt: It started as an ordinary day.)