WHO: Joaco & Faihan WHEN: End of September WHERE: The Beach SUMMARY: After distressing memories, Joaco takes Faihan for a swim. He tries hard to make Joaco have a meaningful conversation; it doesn't end well. There's a surprise at the end. CW: Hints of depression and anxiety.
Faihan squinted against the sun. It cut, diamond-bright, between his lashes, searing his eyes with white, and he rubbed them, blinking away the sting of light. He did feel a little less stressed, sitting in the soft sand, the sound of sea birds and water close. He’d been too stuck in his own head to even think of going out and exercising. But now that they were here, moving in the sunlight, he did feel some of the tension give in his back and stomach. He felt less like he wanted to throw up or scream.
Strange, fantastic things felt much further away here on the beach, tourists milling nearby, the smell of empanadas and grease, sun oil and salt, muscling to the forefront of reality—bringing him back to the present. And he felt a little foolish, with this distance between him and the strange dreams and bizarre memories, the monster in the park and the weird bird—like maybe he was overthinking this. He didn’t want to think he was imagining anything, but he was grateful for a reprieve.
He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and slipping them onto his nose, already a little sweaty from the walk under the midday sun. He took out his water bottle and drank. It was good to have these little distractions, not just from Weird, but also from the fact that they had come here to swim, and that meant that Joaco was going to be shirtless. It made his mouth feel a lot drier; he took another, longer drink. That silly priest’s thirst was half the problem. Now he was having to field sexual frustration for two? How was that fair? No wonder, he thought, he was so wound up. It would be wiser to get into the cold water as soon as possible, though, on account of that.
“Are you ready?” he asked. Truth be told, he wasn’t the best swimmer ever. He knew how to breaststroke, and that was about it, but that was all anyone needed. He doubted they would do any serious swimming anyway. He took another drink before risking a glance at Joaco.
“For swimming? Pffff.” Joaco didn’t even think he needed to answer that, so he didn’t. He was clad for the beach, too, wearing a sleeveless shirt and a pair of long shorts. In his bag he carried snacks, water, and some other basic necessities. He also rented a very large umbrella he was carrying around until they found the perfect spot.
“With better timing, I would’ve taken you to the better beaches--the ones with almost no tourists.” When he found the spot, he drove the umbrella into the sand before opening it up.
Faihan remembered a night a month or so ago, walking under the streetlights and talking about stars. For a moment, in that convivial mood, he’d thought that maybe—even though it had been Diego’s number Joaco gave him and not his own—the mood between them was good. He’d been wrong, of course. He did not suspect that Joaco had looked at him in that way even once. But they’d been talking about stars, and Joaco had mentioned that he loved the ocean: that he’d never wanted to be a scientist, because he was afraid to unravel its mystery...
“As long as the tourists aren’t talking to me, they’re fine.”
Faihan shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head without jostling the sunglasses, and then—because he was who he was—folding it very neatly and placing it atop his bag. He blinked up into the open heart of the umbrella, running calloused fingers over the red blooms at his elbow, the color of it glowing with the press of the sun on the other side.
Why was Joaco always so considerate if it didn’t mean anything about Faihan in particular? Why did he do things for Faihan if he didn’t want anything in return? Was Faihan an asshole for wanting it to mean something? For wanting to be nice to Joaco because of how he felt standing near him? He thought he might be. But he thought he might be a lot of messy things lately.
“Is your friend...still single?”
“Diego? Uh, yeah, I think. Why?” Joaco was now grinning at Faihan as he opened up one of the pockets of his backpack to pull out some water-resistant sunscreen. “You’re going to need this,” he said, wagging the bottle before impromptu tossing it at Faihan for an unexpected game of hot potato.
Reaching down, Joaco unbuttoned his shorts to pull them down, revealing a pair of colorful but worn swimming trunks underneath.
The sunscreen hit his hip, and Faihan blinked, reaching down to collect it. He was grateful that Joaco had recalled his request for boundaries.
He kept remembering being grabbed up in the arms of some strong...guy (he wasn’t quite sure how the guy fit into things yet, that part had blurred), which was in itself a little much for him lately. But on top of that, he was also fielding the reaction of the man he was dreaming as, and...yes, that man had reacted to it quite a bit. So it was confusing and a lot to unpack all at once. He was living some sort of sexually frustrated version of Inception, he thought. He didn’t love it.
So he appreciated the space, uncapping the lotion and doling some out to put on his arms and shoulders. He was distracted, his brain still stuck in what was becoming a perpetually fevered state, not looking as he smoothed lotion over the slope of his shoulders and down the curves of his arms. How the hell was he supposed to stop feeling this way? He really, desperately hoped the swim would take his edge off.
“Did he ask about me because he wanted to date me, or because…?”
“If you mean if I forced him to give you his number, no, he just thinks you are cute.” Joaco shrugged his shoulders, reaching over to grab the sunscreen to rub it over his arms and neck. He already applied a facial one before grabbing Faihan. “Why are you asking about this now?”
Faihan released it easily, without much notice. He only seemed to blink out of it when Joaco touched him. “Why am I…”
He also wondered why. If he said he was interested in Diego after all, then what? Would they date? Would they be boyfriends? Or would Diego only want to come over and…? He tried not to think about that. He already wanted to climb out of his own skin and run away. How would that go—either way? He couldn’t imagine himself happily in love (he laughed a little at the notion), though he could imagine (if unfairly) Diego and Joaco laughing over a drink as Diego recounted how ridiculously bad sex with Faihan had been. He didn’t want Joaco to know he was a virgin, and he especially didn’t want Joaco to know he was [redacted] of changing that.
He shook his head sharply. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“You are far away in the distance, even more so than usual,” Joaco said, heaving a sigh and scratching the back of his head. It was immediately apparent he wasn’t removing his shirt because he still had it on as he stepped closer to the water before turning to look at Faihan.
“Are you going to stay there moping or what? Hurry up, manito!”
“No, I…”
Faihan had at times wondered if he wasn’t a little weird. He certainly seemed to be more high-strung than other people, and he struggled a lot more with trust. He was, some would say, reactive. He knew that. But now his head was full of strange thoughts, remembering the monster and the knight, puzzling over the strange battle, and now...
He rubbed at his arm and followed obediently, pausing at the edge of the water where the ocean only just washed up around his ankles. The sand sucked at his heels, and he shifted, almost losing his balance, but steadying himself.
The dream man seemed more self-assured. He, too, seemed caught off-guard by his longings, but he seemed to be able to accept them overall. He seemed...confident maybe. Unsure around strangers, but not [redacted] of others. Faihan decided he hated that man a little, because the dream man might be a better, more likable version of himself.
He shook his head again, going deeper into the water until it was whirling around his waist, ballooning in his swim trunks. It felt good, all that cold water, the little bits of salt and sand that rushed through the current and chafed his skin.
“Sorry,” he finally said. “I feel very…” The redacted word swam forward, but he ignored it. “...frustrated, about all of this.”
Joaco simply approached Faihan and then splashed some water in his direction.
“I brought you here to take you out of your own brain and here you are doing the opposite of that.” It made Joaco fold his arms over his chest as the water splashed against his waist. “Stop thinking so hard, Fee Fee. What are you doing? Trying to solve the mysteries of the world in your head? Some things just are, why do you question eeeeevery little detail like that?” Faihan shook his head; it wasn’t easy to explain.
He could sympathize with the worries, but Faihan seemed to choose burying his head in the sand as his only answer whenever he’s confronted by something he doesn’t like. “Just have fun.”
There had been a time, he thought, when these things felt simpler and easier. He had thought it was only natural to just enjoy himself with his friends—to just relax and enjoy himself at all. He knew when that had begun to change, but he hardly wanted to talk about that either.
After a moment, he sighed and fell back, letting the water catch him, squinting up at the sun. Saltwater splashed his cheek, spattered his eyes. He blinked it away. Get out of his head? He wasn’t entirely sure how. He wasn’t entirely sure it was his right to do so in the first place. He changed the subject, or at least he tried.
“Why do you love swimming so much?”
“It’s fun,” Joaco replied simply because he wasn’t about to indulge Faihan in waxing poetically. The shirt was now sticking to his skin, so he walked a bit further into the sea until the water covered most of his body.
“Free, too,” he added a moment later.
Behind the sunglasses, Faihan’s brow creased. He knew he was being a jerk. It was stupid to be annoyed at Joaco for leaning into the simpler parts of life. But he was. He was annoyed. He rolled his eyes and moved himself upright again, knocking water from his ears. Joaco had gone deeper into the waves. Faihan could see his shirt moving underwater, a colorful cloud. He wondered why Joaco had left his shirt on. It had to be uncomfortable letting it be dragged this way and that by the tide.
Joaco, as always, was a mystery.
After a moment, though he knew it would be a little mean (and would put his sunglasses, cheap as they were, at risk of being swept away), he ducked under the water. The salt burned his eyes, but he squinted through the haze of seawater, swimming somewhat awkwardly towards Joaco, thinking to surprise him with a little pinch on his calf…
It was not hard to notice Faihan’s absence after a moment when he made his schedule check on him to see if he was drowning. “Faihan?” When Joaco didn’t see him, he assumed he was dragged by the currents, somehow. It took him another moment to notice the approaching shadow, but with waters as crystal clear as these ones, it was almost impossible not to.
So Joaco shifted his body, at first swimming backstroke to put some distance between them before diving in, getting close and wrapping his arms tight around Faihan to drag him back into the air. “Aha!” He broke into a laugh as they resurfaced. “Caught an hermit crab.”
Though his attempt at swimming underwater looked like a confused dog kicking its legs out of order, Faihan had thought he was making good progress. Then Joaco started to, despite his best kicking and paddling, appear further away. He swam a little harder, but his technique was terrible, and so the distance grew.
Until...it suddenly disappeared. To a very modest swimmer like Faihan, it looked a little like teleportation. One moment Joaco was a blur over there, the next moment, he was suddenly being dragged out of the water (which was good; he had been running low on air in his effort to catch up to Joaco). But it was a surprise, and as he came up, he took a nice, big gulp of seawater. Coughing and spluttering, he blinked water from his eyes, sunglasses hanging half-way down his face, held only by the curve over one ear.
He immediately realized his attempt at picking on Joaco had been foiled, and an exasperated, “What? No!” escaped him. He wriggled, more anchovy than hermit crab now, making sounds of protest. “No fair!”
“Relax, Fee Fee,” Joaco squeezed his eyes shut, lifting Faihan a bit higher over the water to keep him from drinking more of it. Of course, this was his reaction. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest. His grip tightened to try and contain his movements, but when was Faihan ever cooperative? (Never. He was never cooperative.)
Despite being small and damp and wriggly, Faihan was not managing to escape, much less turn the tables on Joaco. More than that, his protestations and the feeling of Joaco’s arms tightening around him were starting to bring him back to that fever pitch feeling. His heart was beating loud in his ears. This position was all too familiar lately. And it was not good.
He swallowed, catching his breath. He was glad Joaco was still wearing his shirt. His body still felt warm beneath it, pressed to Faihan’s back, and the cold water was not cold enough. And somehow this was worse than the dreams. The dream man (Badr—he recalled) did not know much about his manhandler yet. There was not a lot there besides physical contact, and it seemed Badr was not so experienced, because he did react to it considerably, but Faihan…
Though he was not built for cooperation, he stopped squirming, blinking water and salt-burned tears from his eyes. The world was a little blurry and bright. Joaco was warm and solid. And everything he wanted from Joaco was not something he could have. He was exercising every last molecule of will-power to ignore both the noise in heart and the eager reaction of his loins. He was doing a good job so far, but he knew it would not last. One or the other was going to overrun him, expose him...and he couldn’t allow that.
He cleared his throat, “Okay, okay...you win.”
“Good, see? Not too hard to be cooperative, yeah?” Joaco let go, floating away from Faihan. He took a look around them, noticing even more people fooling around and about; it made him smile to himself. “Just what were you planning, anyway?” He laughed at the other man’s foolishness, reaching up to brush back his hair that was becoming curlier by the second. “This is not a pool.”
Faihan was a strange man, but Joaco could tell he needed a friend, and so, he would be one for him regardless of how he felt about it. Maybe someday he would thank him or maybe he never would, but Joaco wasn’t the type to easily change his mind over difficulties or lack of gratitude.
Faihan also drew away, trying to make it look casual, like he was just floating with the current. It was much, much worse to have feelings for someone—much worse than simply wanting to be touched by them. He took off his sunglasses, which were making it harder to see (even if they were making the light a little more bearable) and placed them atop his own now curling hair. His eyes had nearly recovered from the saltwater, but things were still smears of light and color, including Joaco. He blinked until Joaco was back in focus.
“I wanted to see if I could surprise you,” he replied after a moment. I want you to react to me. Joaco simply arched his eyebrow.
But then, he supposed Joaco had reacted to him this time. Playfully. Platonically. But it had been a reaction. He moved a little deeper into the water, until he had to move his arms to keep above the waves.
“I want to ask you something, but I don’t know if I should.”
“Are we going to wax philosophically again? Because that’s not really my thing.” Joaco stayed relatively close, mostly to make sure the sea didn’t swallow up Faihan or that somehow a shark or a stingray appeared out of nowhere or something considering his luck. “Or is it about the cat?”
“It’s a personal question,” Faihan said, swimming juuuust a little deeper as Joaco tried to come closer.
Joaco tipped his head and blinked, reaching up to scratch his cheek. “What do you want to know now?”
“Have you…” Faihan mumbled. A wave rocked against the back of his head, and he spit out water again, making a face. Despite this, he did not follow the waves back towards where he could touch the sand. Because he was perhaps obstinance incarnate, he kicked his legs backwards instead.
What was he really going to learn by asking that question? That yes, Joaco had been in love, that he’d been really close to someone, that he didn’t just blanket love everyone, and that there was a possibility that he could come to care about one person more than anyone else? And then what? That person wouldn’t be Faihan. But what if…? What if he hadn’t? And what if, this one time, it was Joaco and not Faihan.
Faihan wanted to know. He wanted that ‘for once.’
“Have you ever been in love?”
At first, Joaco just laughed at the question, throwing back his head and closing his eyes. A wave took advantage of that, but he moved his arms and legs to steady himself again.
“Probably not?” Joaco finally offered with a careless shrug of his shoulders.
The relief was probably far more evident on Faihan’s face than he would have liked had he been thinking about it. His eyes fell shut, and he nodded.
For once, maybe it wasn’t him. Not entirely.
And this emboldened him...perhaps a little too much, because then he asked, “So you are… Aromantic? Asexual?”
Joaco rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. Again. “I don’t think so? Why do you always want to make everything so complicated?”
“What’s complicated about that?” Faihan demanded, the relief turning back into annoyance. “It makes things less complicated if something like that is clear.” He turned, doing his weird little dog paddle swim, not further out, but past Joaco, parallel to the beach. He thought maybe Joaco just thought of him as some kind of joke. But probably that was one of the kinder things people thought of him. He pursed his mouth and swam along against the waves trying to push him towards the shore.
“Everything? Everyone is so obsessed with all these labels nowadays. I am just me. I’m Joaco, and that’s it.” And he wouldn’t accept anything but that. He stayed where he was, watching Fee Fee’s feeble attempts at fighting the waves. “You’re so weird sometimes. Wanna go back to the shore for a break?”
It was true. Faihan swam with all the majesty and grace of a crab that was being jostled by the tide and highly likely to soon be scooped up by a seagull. But still, he did his best, because the swimming was helping lower all his pent up worry and frustration. Also, because he was a little annoyed at Joaco for laughing at him. And because this answer also made him feel like he was being dragged back to square one.
Panting, just close enough to catch the question, he stopped and let the water push him back to where the tips of his toes could touch the bottom. His heart was beating rapidly, but it was beating in the good, just-exercised way. He nodded, though it was partially obscured, since only his chin was above water. He bobbed towards the shore until he could walk, wondering what was so weird about him now. It seemed like this was some new “weird” point not already on his personal catalog of known deficiencies. He didn’t really think there was space for any new entries.
Maybe he was like “Badr.” They both seemed to have a soft spot for men with the romantic sensibility of preschoolers. He’d felt embarrassed for Badr, going weak in the knees for someone that stupid. But maybe he wasn’t any better, not in that category. Joaco wasn’t stupid, though. He was dense, but he wasn’t stupid, Faihan reminded himself. So at least his taste was still better than that Badr guy’s. But maybe foolish Badr could be useful. He stopped where the water was only just up to his hip, waiting for Joaco to join him and took a moment to consider how he might convey something using the dream man’s situation.
“You remind me of the man in my memories.”
Joaoco followed well after Faihan had started his trek because he was keeping an eye on him. He still wondered what led a man to build an entire world in his head like that when there was an entire world outside that he was missing out on because he was too busy fretting over every little detail instead of living.
"Yeah?" Joaco asked as he finally was half outside of the water, his feet firmly planted or at least as firm as they could be against the wet sand. "What about hi--Fee fee, watch out--!" A man running backwards to catch a ball was about to hit Faihan when he looked over at him, and he was too far away to do anything about it.
This was good. This was a good idea. He’d frame his own situation with Badr’s, and Joaco wouldn’t realize it, and maybe he’d figure out some of the questions he wanted to know but was too embarrassed to ask Joaco by gauging his reactions—
And then he was underwater, and because it was shallow water, he was eating not just water, but sand. He was not clear what was happening to him or why, except that it seemed to make sense based on every other thing that had been happening to him recently.
The man in question went down with Faihan, too, so Joaco made his way over to try and help.
“Woah! I’m so sorry, dude!” The man spat salty water, making a face of disgust as he tried to help Faihan up from their tangled limbs.
Whenever Faihan opened his eyes, a familiar face would be looking down at him. Familiar, yet not, because he had never met this man before.
At least not in the traditional sense of the word.
Faihan had been a sad little crab before. Perhaps now he was a wet cat, because he looked very small and bedraggled—his curls plastered to his face and his sunglasses floating away—when the stranger fished him out. There was sand in his teeth and his stomach hurt from too much saltwater.
He was angry, close to spitting. A wet, furious cat of a man who had something to say to the careless stranger. He shoved his hair out of his face and glared up at the man.
Broad shoulders and a bullish neck (and somehow he could easily picture the way the muscles in it could tighten and flex). Neat brown hair now wetted to his scalp. A smile that only matched Joaco’s in wattage. He knew the feeling of that body being tangled up with...not his...but…
The rage left his expression. He suddenly seemed a little pale. Faihan shook his head. He had to be mistaken. He could not be seeing that guy here in real life. His swim had not taken enough edge off, because now everything was just back all at once: his crush on Joaco and the strange bird, the monster in the park looming over him and the knight killing it in a single stroke, the crystals refracting the end of some crazy fantasy battle and Badr’s memories flashing behind his eyes...
“No…” he mumbled. “No...You...can’t…”
Faihan had, at long last, passed the level of stress his wonky coping mechanisms could handle. His eyes rolled back and he sagged, bonelessly, into the surf.