Chapter Text
It’s the fifth night on the Neo Odyssey.
Though, night is a funny term, when usually it’s meant to explain the gap between evening and morning. Like the dent you create when your head rises from the pillow.
One, two, three, four, five nights he has spent standing on the balcony instead.
For long, only the blurry line between the dark ocean and night sky keeps him company as he waits to greet the first rays of sun.
Behind him lies the sticky heat of a shared cabin, with its broken air con, cramped bunk bed and the culprit, Yangyang – albeit, in a slightly seasick form – snoring without rhythm and in varying degrees of loud to indecently obscene.
However, Renjun has no sympathy for the guy who fell for a cruise ship scam. Especially a dude who accidentally bought an extra ticket even though it added 2578 dollars of his (parents’) money to the total. The booking reservations Renjun received were sent in lieu of an explanation. Presumably out of shame, Yangyang had titled the PDF with a ship emoji. And luckily, he found willing prey in Renjun, who said yes to Yangyang’s wordless invitation to seventeen nights of this.
This, meaning staying on a ship filled to the brim with elderly folk. A generation more than happy to regard Renjun’s choice of a linen blouse with a look of disapproval because it so much as reveals his collarbones when he bends over the buffet to reach for a slice of Malang apple. He can scratch reading a book in his silky hot pants that leave little to imagination, if everyone seems to think of the two young, hot and single passengers as a thorn in their side.
He huffs out a breath of air, something akin to a humorless laugh.
It should have been a dead giveaway to him back when he received Yangyang’s message.
No great cruise ship, set to explore the pleasant Australian summer heat, isn't fully booked a month before embarkation day. Especially one claiming to be the for-hot-and-single-college-students-bound-to-a-tight-budget-seeking-to-fill-their-systems-with-booze-at-pool-parties cruise of their (careful, pun adrift) wet dreams.
It seems far away now (because it is about 2000 nautical miles away) that they stood at the port of Tanjung Priok with questionably designed boarding passes in hand: two pieces of brittle paper with a few lines of text, lacking any branding. As Renjun receives his cruise card in return, he shudders at the wise voice inside his head: Plastic? Great. Dog-eared, too. How environmentally friendly. Still no branding or logo? Well. Someone’s really proud to show off their work!
Willing prey, he had been then too.
He should’ve run away.
Standing in the shadow of a cruise ship, at least three times the size of the dorm building he left behind in Seoul, the voice alarming him of impending doom went interrupted by Yangyang’s call to hurry up.
It’s possible he was still under the influence of an unreasonably priced glass of wine he drank on the flight over when he made the choice to step onto the ship. Maybe having added to the mix of alcoholic beverages that Haechan had filled him up with a day prior was the wrong choice. He doesn’t fully understand why the stress of barely-passed exams had led past-Renjun to go all out for the turn of the year.
For the Gregorian Calendar of all things.
On the balcony, he watches as a storm gathers in the direction they’re heading towards.
They’re sailing away from the first rays of sun as he startles out of the enticing downward spiral into anger. Though he knows he technically deserves to jump Yangyang’s sleeping form, he leans over the railing of the balcony. The motion serves him a gust of wind that reminds him to appreciate the fact Yangyang had the decency to get a room with direct access to the outside.
Anything is better than being locked up inside a shoe box-sized room with Yangyang on top of being isolated from society by miles of deep, deep ocean.
🌅
“Um, so, according to Wikipedia, what this place is known for is uhhh— British colonialism and well-preserved late Victorian and Edwardian architecture. The city is built on the land of the Whadjuk Noongar people. They call this place Walyalup, meaning place of the woylie. Which is– Oh, that’s just a little guy. Cute. Look,” Yangyang says, holding his phone directly in front of Renjun’s face. Renjun catches sight of a picture of the mammal and the words “critically endangered” before Yangyang retracts his arm.
“Do you think we have enough time to visit a museum? I should look up if they have one first, right? Anyway.. What else is interesting? Ah! This is apparently the oldest market in Western Australia. It opened in 1897, providing a place to sell and buy handicrafts and foods like fish and vegetables in over 150 stalls. Buskers and street performers make common appearances outside the premises.”
If Yangyang is aware he’s rambling, Renjun doesn’t know. Typically it would make for pleasant background noise. Maybe Renjun would even listen to the information read to him if he weren’t a) so sleep deprived, and b) so fucking annoyed at Yangyang.
Thing is, predictably so, Yangyang had forgotten to sign them up for the excursion to Perth. Which meant they were stuck in the port city for the day. And it’s fine for Renjun. Fremantle is interesting and new. But, as it’s his first time in the country, he really had hoped to cross a big place like Perth off his list first. He was looking forward to the bus journey and to getting a feel for the place and its inhabitants.
But now he’s strolling along miscellaneous objects, smelling like a fish market, while Yangyang talks about the wind in the harbor being called the Fremantle Doctor.
The information dumping is a testament to how bad Yangyang feels about having disappointed Renjun with his first day in the country. Renjun knows as much. Yangyang’s good intentions are just easy to forget when he rattles on.
“Also, a great spot to find sugar daddies, or mommies. Fremantle hosted America’s Cup yachting race in 1987 and this place has been a hot destination for yachters since. And yachters have money, so. We should walk down to Swan river and look at some of them. I assume they’re further down that inner harbor we’re parked at. Behind the bridge we saw earlier, maybe?”
He’s trying his hardest to keep his tone light. But like a balloon with a leak losing its air, he gets quieter by the time he exhausts the resources of Wikipedia and a list of Things You Should Know About Fremantle.
For as much as he had talked, Renjun hadn’t said a word to him since breakfast when the news of their missed opportunity were brought to his attention.
He takes a long breath.
As he lolls his face, he gets a glimpse of Yangyang’s face through a hand-made mirror in the back of the shop. Its frame is detailed with golden charms and colorfully marbled stones.
Through the mirror, Renjun observes as Yangyang sneaks glances at him.
“Great idea,” Renjun says.
He watches as Yangyang looks up hopefully, stands up straight and turns to Renjun. His craving for conversation is great.
“Maybe one of them takes me far away from you on their yacht.”
Yangyang’s side profile tells Renjun that he is startled by the reply for a short moment. As if on autopilot, his body deflates and his lower lip extends before he replies, “That’s kind of mean.”
When Renjun turns around, he sees Yangyang’s expression falter.
He doesn’t know what face he’s making but it sets his friend into motion.
As if suddenly sober, Yangyang shoots, high pitched, “I mean– not like mean mean! Like you know how they say you can make a mean sandwich? Damn, I’m hungry, wow. Wanna eat?”
30 seconds ago Renjun could have thought Yangyang had no guilty conscience.
🐟
They sit somewhere in the adjacent food court, a plate of baked sardines between them on the wooden table.
The food looks edible despite Renjun’s hesitancy to stick to the bit.
When Renjun had helped Yangyang pack his bags – or, rather, had named an item Yangyang still had to pack and in return had Yangyang name an idea for their trip’s itinerary – they had made a pact to try local cuisine in every port city they went to. The game had been a measure to distract Yangyang from the money he had lost.
Though retrospectively, he had seemed to be barely affected by such a huge spending, happy to talk about all his plans for their journey.
In contrast, he remained oddly quiet now.
“Just say it, Yangyang.”
“I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore.”
“I’m not really mad, I’m just,” fucking tired, disappointed, maybe regretting all of my decisions up until this point, but that wouldn’t be the full story either.
It wouldn’t account for the pettiness that led him to accidentally (in a broad sense of the word) misplace Yangyang’s favorite necklace in the back of a drawer at their cabin.
“Look,” Yangyang takes the silence as a chance to put in another word, “it wasn’t like I knew we had to sign up within the first day on board and you were always in a bad mood so I didn’t know how to bring it up with you. It’s not like I forgot to sign us up on purpose, and I know that you know that. So please, just forgive me?”
“What about Melbourne? We missed the deadline for the excursion there too.”
“Alright but, we have more time in Melbourne. A full afternoon and night, and the morning of the next day too. And the excursion was super expensive anyway. Plus, you really want to spend that day with all the old people in a bus, possibly without air con, driving towards a waterfall that will have been dried out by the time the bus arrives? You want to do that when we could be exploring city life instead?” Yangyang takes half a breath, “You wanna miss out on the buzzing jazz scene? The bars, the beaches! Come on, it will be great because we’re missing the excursion.”
Renjun picks up a piece of fish, chewing as he thinks.
Does he want to put up a fight?
The market is bustling with locals and tourists alike. They’re all squeezing their way past each other through the busiest part of the food court.
“Alright,” Renjun says.
“Alright? You forgive me?” Yangyang asks, eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” Renjun replies and doesn’t miss the way the tension escapes from Yangyang’s shoulders, if only slightly, “I have a condition though.”
🌠
A single chat notification from Yangyang sits on top of Renjun’s lock screen when he wakes from his afternoon nap.
As he swipes up, it takes a few seconds before the chat floods his screen and reveals an unknown PDF. Like the first time, the document bears no alphabetical name – but there is a shooting star as a placeholder.
Renjun sits up to assess the threat:
- These are likely their entire plans for Melbourne. Each stop hopefully detailed with time stamps, prices and Google Maps references – like he had asked Yangyang to prepare.
- In case those are the actual contents, Yangyang has fulfilled his only condition.
- If Renjun has learned one thing since November, it is not to trust whatever Yangyang hides in these documents.
So naturally, the file goes unopened and haunts him like a ghost.
When he tucks himself into his bunk bed, it follows him under the sheets and when he opens his eyes again they’re so close to arriving in Melbourne that he simply accepts his reluctance to check the document as his deserved fate.
Having made his bed, he follows Yangyang to the pedestrian exit of the cruise a little before 1 PM.
They take their place in a sizable queue about 20 minutes before they’re allowed to leave the ship. The couple in front of them, they learn, is celebrating their 24th wedding anniversary. During the conversation Yangyang realizes he has forgotten to pack sunscreen. Their new friends are nice enough to lend them their spare bottle.
It does nothing to calm Renjun’s nerves as he sways back and forth, eyeing the strange backpack Yangyang stuffed for himself in the morning.
He had forbidden Renjun to pack for himself, too.
The unknown luggage that is strapped to Renjun’s back now – that he is prohibited from opening until Yangyang gives him the go-ahead – weighs him down more and more with each passing minute.
There’s an itch to open the document at last.
Before Renjun can muster up the courage and go through with it, they’re walking off the ship and heading down to a nearby pier. They take what feels like a farewell picture of them and the ship, and another of them and the city skyline of Melbourne.
The day truly begins when they walk over to a bike rental, receiving a (pre-booked!!!) bike each, with whom they ride along Port Melbourne Beach. After checking out coastline views on a path adorned with palm trees, they make a detour through a residential area and an even longer detour around the entirety of Albert Park Lake. Quaint family homes slowly make way for office buildings that increase in height the closer they inch to the city center.
A light breeze distracts them from the heat long enough that they reach the Shrine of Remembrance after 50 minutes of nonstop biking. In an oddly shaped courtyard, between bamboo and figs, Yangyang nurses Renjun back to full energy with a multivitamin juice that he procures from one of the mysterious backpacks.
“It’s pretty here,” Renjun says when they’re in the Royal Botanic Garden, pushing their bikes along a concrete path with scenic views, “I didn't expect Australia to be so green and leafy though.”
“There’s much you still need to learn, boy.” Yangyang sing-songs. The hand that isn’t occupied with holding onto the bike swipes open the camera app on his phone. His lens is aimed at a bed of cacti and succulents.
Naturally he doesn’t notice when Renjun saddles his bike and takes off.
As Renjun rolls down the hill, he notices the change in his demeanor for the first time. With the permanent frown lifted off his face for the first time in days, he can feel the muscles on his forehead relax.
Apart from the beautiful views, it’s likely the exercise that keeps mind off the looming threat of the unopened message. Even with a rumbling stomach, the itch to open it gradually disappears with each passing minute spent in Melbourne.
It’s closer to 4 PM when they finish sharing Goolwa Pipi’s with tamarind and garlic shoots, croquettes made of locally sourced cassava with a black garlic aioli and lemon aspen fries. For dessert they have a truly-delicious wattleseed chocolate coulant garnished with mascarpone chantilly and a wattleseed crémeux.
Afterwards, Yangyang hurries them over to the nearby National Gallery of Victoria.
With one hour on the clock to look at the full exhibit, and a layer of sweat beading on Yangyang’s forehead, he wastes no time to open up a list. Albeit a bit breathless, he guides Renjun around the museum and shows him what he researched to be the 15 most noteworthy works on show, according to Google and a blog post on Naver.
They finish the tour with 10 minutes to spare. Renjun uses the rest of their time to independently explore some of the other works as Yangyang trails behind.
At 5 PM on the dot, a rather angry looking security guard comes up to them and urges them to collect all your personal items and please leave.
A trip to the Melbourne Town Hall, three pottery pop-up shops, five second-hand stores, two ice cream parlors and handing in the bikes with the rental company later, Yangyang secures them a table outside a pizzeria.
It’s tucked away in an alley and the name of it is as discreet as can be: Pizza Pizza Pizza.
Tacky names aside, the prices are cheap and the pizza tastes good enough. Also, Renjun is too physically exhausted to complain against the bubbly soda Yangyang sets in front of his face and makes him pose with for a picture.
“You’ll delete that, right?” he asks, clinging onto a sliver of hope as thin as the tissue the nice waiter gave him for rubbing the grease off his fingertips. Sweaty and exhausted, he’s sure he doesn’t look his best right now.
“Oh no, that’s going straight to the group chat. They’ll love it.” Yangyang says simply, laying down his phone before picking up a slice.
“Uuughh,” Renjun deflates, watching as a few bubbles appear and then three messages flood the group chat. He’ll read them later, but he’s sure one of them is complimenting Yangyang’s boyfriend POV photo taking ability– whatever that means.
“Calm down, they’re just bugging me ‘cause they’re worried about you. You’ve been too quiet since we boarded the ship so they’re starting to suspect I threw your phone in the ocean and like- tied you up to the mast,” Yangyang explains calmly before rushing to add, “–no homo .”
Renjun suppresses the urge to sigh.
But Yangyang is right. He has been intense and moody. He just didn’t know it had extended so far that even their friends in Korea had begun to notice.
The sun is slowly raking its last golden rays over the city.
His focus is pulled from the revelation to the slight drop in temperature. He knows it won’t cool down much further over the course of the night. But it’s not a bad situation to be in at all.
He finally feels satiated: with a full tummy and a roster of new photos to post on Instagram in his camera roll. There’s even a few Yangyang took that he can send to his parents later.
He made a plethora of new memories too. Like, stealing Yangyang’s last slice of pizza while the other complains about a tummy ache. Though, the great friend he is, he accompanies his possibly-lactose-intolerant friend to the counter to ask for the nearest toilet.
In a frown-inducing twist, Yangyang laughs at Renjun’s request to see the facilities and instead asks for a secret menu. The employee's face lights up with a grin, before asking them to follow him to a secluded room.
“Woah, that actually worked,” Yangyang says in wonder once they’re standing in the middle of a dimly-lit room, facing a bartender pouring shots for a group of four guys.
“What is this?” Renjun asks, mostly confused, definitely weirded out.
“Oh, I read that there’s a code you can use to get into a secret bar here,” Yangyang explains, taking a seat in the corner of the room.
They order drinks and get pleasantly buzzed before the bar gets too crowded.
Filtering out into the streets to enjoy the cool air, they end up in another bar. This one, not hidden, serves cheaper drinks as jazz artists come up onto the stage to entertain a dancing crowd. Renjun joins them only when a girl bats her long lashes at him with a smile so bright he can’t decline the invitation.
A bit later, Yangyang suggests searching for a club. They find one with a queue not too long and make their way inside. As they resurface from the depths of the dance floor, sweaty and blissed out, Yangyang makes the decision to call them an uber.
It seems to be the final destination of the night, considering that it’s close to 2 AM.
Renjun, despite feeling sleepy, hears himself complain that the day ended too soon, hugging a street lamp as they wait for their driver. The pole is cold on his cheek, though the night isn't as warm as he remembers.
Before he can grow aware of the fact he should probably keep himself warm to not get sick, Yangyang unearths the most heinous piece of tourism from his not-so-mysterious-anymore backpack: a hoodie with I <3 Melbourne written across the chest.
"Real classy," Renjun snorts as he receives his gift, struggling with finding the right holes to put his head through at first.
Yangyang is wearing a white version of it when Renjun escapes the clasp of the hood, grinning back at Renjun before speaking, "Obviously. I've only got the best for the best. I found it earlier when you were taking your time at the market."
"Well," Renjun smiles, stumbling back and leaning against the flickering lamp, "thank you for using your time and money wisely."
Again, his eyes drift shut against his will, the tiredness catching up on him after a long night out.
However, he soon hears a car roll up to them, and the driver calls out for Yangyang. The guy, maybe in his early 30s, introduces himself as Shakir. Beyond that, Renjun is unsure how he ends up in the car, but he does, and he has half a mind to mumble, "Thank you for today. I really enjoyed all that we did."
There's a soft pressure on his head in the shape of a hand.
💤
Renjun startles awake, feeling somewhat dizzy.
His mouth is dry and tastes foul. There's a low hum drumming in his ears too, though that might be the noises of the car more than the trauma of two hours of Australian techno.
Yangyang is on his phone next to him. A look to the driver's seat reveals that they're 30 minutes into their journey, which can't be true, because they should arrive soon then but the coast is nowhere to be seen.
Mild panic rises in him as he taps Yangyang's shoulder, a frown on his face as he has to nudge him twice to gain his attention. The other boy looks over, tugging his airpods from his ears, inquiring with a hum, "What's up?"
Renjun motions for Yangyang to quiet down as he tugs his phone from under his thigh, typing out his concern in their chatroom: I THINK THE DRIVER GOT THE WRONG ADDRESS.
Yangyang grins as he reads the message, "Don't worry. I’m sure it’s fine."
It’s not fine. Renjun frowns.
Unbothered, Yangyang unscrews a bottle of water and hands it to him. Sip by sip, Renjun nurses the rasp in his throat away.
Like a child, the activity takes his mind off his worries. Instead he damns Yangyang for being able to handle his alcohol so well, and lays his head back against the seat, letting his eyes drift shut. He complains about it with slurred words and figures he’s already half-dreaming when a jacket is placed over his lap. The additional warmth pulls him back to sleep.
It turns out to be one of those naps where he wakes up less dizzy, but unsure whether 5 minutes or 6 hours have passed.
It’s pitch dark now. With no buildings in sight, the road is illuminated only by the car's lights. Shakir is humming along to a song on the radio, playing on a low volume. Yangyang has his earphones in and doesn't seem to be concerned with the fact that the driver still hasn't found his way back to the cruise, or that he turned off his phone and is not following directions.
"Hey?" Renjun taps Yangyang’s leg.
The boy startles, searching for his phone in his lap sloppily and grimacing when the screen shines brightly back at him.
"Three twenty-five," he says to no one in particular. Renjun snorts, noticing the disheveled state the boy is in, but grimacing as he realizes the meaning of his words.
Not quite five minutes then.
"Yangyang, are you sure you logged in the right address? Weren't we just like half an hour away from the ship?" Renjun asks, trying to imply impatience with the seriousness of his tone.
Maybe this way Yangyang realizes the gravity of their situation.
Missing the cruise would be the final nail in the coffin for them and their friendship, if Renjun is having a particularly bad day. Which he is, considering he just had to nap in a driving car. His back will not thank him for it once he moves his body.
"We aren't going back to the ship yet, Junnie. Can you not trust me?" Yangyang whines finally.
Renjun closes his mouth.
The other seems to consider the conversation over after that, leaning back against his seat and scrolling on his phone.
Renjun, still puzzled by where they could possibly still go, what they could possibly still want to see, especially at this time of night, sits back as well.
🚕
The next time Renjun rises, he does so calmly.
Yangyang, recently ever his opposing entity, leans over to Renjun with an inquiry entirely too energetic for whatever AM they’re approaching, "G'day mate. Slept well?"
"Not really," Renjun mumbles as reality sets in again. Two cars pass them. The closest the road has to offer as witnesses to whatever law Yangyang is breaking with his terrible rendition of an Australian accent.
"When are we arriving?" Renjun asks, blinking sleepily.
"In half an hour, actually," Shakir says brightly from the front. He's also too awake at this hour, but Renjun supposes it's good he's still doing well, considering that he's the driver, after all. Can't have the one steering the wheel go sleepy in the middle of nowhere, especially at this hour; especially when they have a cruise ship to catch at like 9 AM.
Yangyang beside him nods in understanding, before robbing Renjun of the backpack lodged in between his legs. The search for an unspecified item causes terribly loud shuffling noises. Renjun almost groans, and does groan when Yangyang places a blindfold in his lap.
"Yangyang– why?" Renjun tries, as every single one of his moves leads him to strap the fabric over his own forehead.
Logistically, this shouldn't really make a difference. He has absolutely no clue where they are, and Shakir even turned off his Google Maps along the way. So surely, in the dark, it won't matter if he sees some of their surroundings.
"It's better for the surprise," comes the sly reasoning.
"What surprise? I literally made you give me a damn list of our itinerary." Renjun says, matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, but you didn't even care to look at it," wrong, kind-of, "so this is actually improving the plan. Trust me, mate." There he goes again, trying to channel the Australian accent.
"Stop pouting, okay?" Yangyang asks softly as he watches Renjun mull over his chances of escaping the blindfold.
So, to save energy, he finally pulls the blindfold over his eyes as Shakir turns a corner.
His body keeps him alert with the temporal loss of his sight.
Like a child waking up from a nap when they turn into the driveway of their home, Renjun knows the exact moment they pull into an available parking spot.
Outside he can hear faint talking. The next sound is Yangyang opening the door closest to him, before leaving the car, closing the door, and tantalizing seconds later opening Renjun’s side of the car.
With firm concrete under his feet, Renjun breathes out a shaky breath.
“So, where are we?” he inquires. The chatter around him is louder now. He feels self conscious not knowing if he’s being watched.
“Do you understand the purpose of the blindfold?” Yangyang says, not unkindly.
His voice is much closer than Renjun expected it to be. He takes a step back, but Yangyang’s hands attach to his shoulders and pull him forward again.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t fall,” Yangyang says, tugging at Renjun’s shoulders so that he turns around. He starts pushing him from behind, the weight of his hands heavy on his shoulders.
Renjun stumbles as they make their way along the concrete path. After a while, the ground becomes softer. He assumes they’re walking on wooden planks now. Intermittently, they walk past people in conversation, though the conversations aren’t much to go by. It doesn’t tell Renjun anything new about where they might be.
It’s windier, wherever they are, and the sound of waves inches closer the further they walk.
Maybe the sky is already becoming lighter. With the way his eyes are tied, Renjun can’t tell.
They come to a stop somewhere. Yangyang removes his hands for good measure.
He won’t say anything. Shifting around uncomfortably, Renjun wonders if Yangyang is watching him.
“We’ve gone walkabout something truly magical, dude,” Yangyang breaks the silence finally.
It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking to Renjun, instead speaking towards a destination far away.
“Should I take off the blindfold?”
Yangyang is quiet for a moment, before answering softly, “Not yet. Now is not the right moment. Just a little longer.”
And it does take a little longer. The blindfold itches on his eyelids for what feels like 20 minutes. He’s growing tired from standing in the dark.
Sometime while they wait Yangyang places his arm around his shoulder, silently affirming that he hasn’t left.
“You can go ahead now,” Yangyang says, voice oddly calm and low. His arm retracts, and the fabric rustles as it falls to his side.
When Renjun pushes the blindfold onto his forehead and off his head, his eyes take a bit to adjust to the environment around him. He rubs his eyes to quicken the pace, but it doesn’t work.
It’s brighter since he put on the blindfold, and the first outline he can make out is that of the sea below them.
They’re on top of what looks like a hill, with a steep decline and drop off into rock formations. The waves are crashing into what Renjun assumes will be a slim beach below, or possibly against a steep cliff. He steps closer to the wooden railing in front of him, aiming to see more. Yangyang’s hands are on the railing already.
Finally his attention is drawn out to the sea.
He gasps as his eyes gaze across large pillars just in front of the coast, standing tall as if someone tore them away from the cliffs: Behind it the sky is colored in soft orange and yellow hues, blurring into the blue morning sky above.
The sun hasn’t risen yet.
“Yangyang,” Renjun coaks out.
“I thought you’d appreciate a spectacular view for the morning,” Yangyang says softly. He must be smiling.
“Yeah,” Renjun whispers dumbly, not trusting himself to speak loudly.
When he looks over to Yangyang, the other is already looking back at him. His eyes are kind.
Renjun smiles tentatively, watching as Yangyang slowly smiles back at him.
“There’s a better view point of the ocean along the path but there were too many people there. We will head back down later, yeah?”
The warm colors in the sky extend to the view behind Yangyang’s frame.
Renjun only nods in response.
The Twelve Apostles, a hot tourist destination, and a sight Renjun didn’t know he needed to see. The magic of the place lasts for an hour before Shakir runs up to them and rushes them back to the car. They arrive at the cruise half an hour before they’re set to embark on the longer journey to New Zealand.
🛏️
Since Yangyang has whispered a soft goodnight from down by the bottom bunk, he has turned over once and then rolled right back. Now his breaths come and leave as soft and steady as his voice did.
Again, Renjun finds himself in the dark. This time though he’s laying in the comfort of a familiar bed, the curtains of their cabin drawn shut. Only the smallest gaps in between the tight warp and weft allow for light to hint at the rising sun.
With the revelation, Renjun grows less sleepy. Still, he patiently waits.
They both haven’t had much rest in the last 24 hours. His body simply must cave in. However, his assumption that Yangyang has already fallen asleep is proven wrong as the sheets begin to rustle.
After minutes of tossing and turning, Yangyang breaks the silence.
“Renjun,” he inquires, no remnants of overdue sleep clinging onto his voice.
When Renjun doesn't move nor reply, he continues, “Did you hear about the game that the cruise is hosting later?”
There’s two options here, either Renjun remains quiet and feigns sleep, or he tells Yangyang off for keeping him up when they both need to rest.
Despite the better of his judgment, Renjun chooses neither.
“What game?”
There’s a swish, and then something hits the blanket above his collarbone. Carefully he tugs his hands from the cover of the blanket, taking the object into his hands.
It’s a paper plane, the surface smooth against his calloused fingertips. With his eyes having adjusted to the dark, he can make out a few lines of bold writing. He doesn't recognize the words.
Unfolding the plane, his attempts at deciphering what’s written still render futile.
“It’s, um,” Yangyang speaks up, motivated by Renjun’s silence, “like a show format where you compete with a partner to win vouchers for unlimited drinks and some other cool stuff. It begins at 8 PM.”
Renjun sits up, holding the paper out in front of his face. Even with added context clues, the words don't come clear to him. When he chucks the paper away, he doesn’t see where it hits the ground below.
To his sleep-deprived state of mind, Yangyang’s explanation seems thorough. With the allure of possible rewards at the forefront of his mind, he nods. The chance to have a more enjoyable time on the rest of their journey – an endless supply of free Margaritas to sweeten an afternoon spent at the pool – is entirely enticing.
“Sounds good to me,” he hears himself respond.
“No backing out though,” Yangyang probes, tone unsure. Though Renjun can’t see his face, he can imagine his baffled expression at the lack of resistance.
“Sure.”