Benji stood in the soft, white sand with his bare feet, gazing off into the horizon through his shades as the wind tousled his hair. He watched the little white boats bobbing about atop the waves with the jagged brown cliffs stretching like an arm from the island into the distance. The sky overhead was a pristine blue, and the water almost matched but was a few shades darker. He'd gotten so used to the muddy brownish-green of the Atlantic that he never knew it could be so clear and blue in other parts of the world. Breathing in the salty air, he trudged back to where he had left his things.

It was a bit earlier in the morning, and his flatmates were still asleep in their Airbnb. He didn't mind; he wanted a chance to do some exploring on his own, to see the sights at his own pace, and sleeping through the night evaded him. Sitting down cross-legged on a towel and buttoning his shirt to keep the cool air at bay, Benji simply watched the seagulls flying overhead, before turning his attention back to the island. It seemed to rise out of the ocean with a point in the middle like a concave shield before the elevation gradually sloped back into the depths, disappearing beneath the surface. He still planned to hike up there before they left, and he hoped he could drag his friends along with him. But for now, he whipped out his sketchbook and tried his hand at drawing what he saw. The scenery instantly inspired him.

He'd left his phone at the Airbnb, which would normally be incredibly foolish, but they had lucked out in getting a spot close to the beach, so he would have to try very hard to lose his way. But he had no way of telling what time it was after he had sat down to draw for a bit. He gazed at the position of the sun overhead, doing some quick math to determine that it must have been something like almost ten at this point. Somehow in the blink of an eye, three hours had passed. And he hadn't even had breakfast yet. Somehow the waiting feeling had disappeared for a moment, before it was back again in full force.

Pleased with how his drawings had turned out, Benji rose from the towel and shook it out, gathering his things under his arm and returning to where they were staying. They had lucked out and managed to get a one-story beach house for the four of them. It was made from white stucco with a clay tiled roof and had stone floors and intricately designed flower patterns on the walls dominated by reds and oranges - all designed to keep the heat out. But even though they were closer to the equator and the temperature on average was warmer than it was in London, it unfortunately wasn't warm enough to justify going swimming.

Slipping into the house quietly so as to not wake anyone, Benji was surprised to see Ish up and preparing breakfast. They greeted each other and Benji sat to watch the other for a moment before shuffling off to the sitting room, which also served as a giant bedroom. There were two decent-sized beds against opposing walls, and a pull-out couch between them. A giant window in the middle of the room looked out onto the beach, a long, opaque curtain blocking some of the light.

Rhiannon lay under her thin sheets buried entirely, with a pillow over her head to retain some semblance of darkness. Soledad, on the other hand, was propped up on her hand on the pullout couch she and Benji had shared, as she scrolled through her phone. She looked up at him with a smile and a "g'mornin" as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Picking up his phone, Benji raised his eyebrows when he saw that he had gotten a new email. He didn't get a lot of emails, as it was an outdated method of communication, in his opinion. When he saw the title of the email - "Mi Vida" - and the first few lines of the body of the message, he couldn't help but grit his teeth, swallowing back the wave of tears. Any feelings of relaxation he may have had a moment ago evaporated as if the sun itself sat in his palm, blasting him with radiation.

Just when he thought he would be okay, he got a gut punch; he didn't have the patience for this. He contemplated deleting the message immediately. That was what his brain would tell him to do, at least. But his heart told him no, he needed to read that email.

Frowning deeply, his face darkening under the chiaroscuro of the cloud that returned to its position hovering over his head, Benji opened the email, bracing himself for the impact. The first few lines alone had done enough to shatter his already fragile, scarred heart as if it were made from pieces of mosaic that had been haphazardly patched together and stuck together with stem cells. And yet he made himself read it, every word of it. He excused himself to the bathroom so he could cry in peace without someone trying to ask him if he was okay. Every day he got the same question from everyone around him, and every day the response was the same: hell no.

Benji was so confused. Victor could have called him. And regardless, Benji didn't know if he was in a state where he was ready to forgive Victor. The person he loved and cared for most in the world had basically abandoned him. He thought he would be able to escape these feelings on this trip, but they followed him everywhere, because they were a part of him. How convenient would it have been if he could simply siphon them out and leave them behind in London… It wasn't fair that he had to be at Victor's mercy. He squeezed his phone in his hand, wishing he could crush the damn thing, but it was sturdier than it looked. Thinking about how much he craved booze again, Benji sighed. Maybe he did need therapy. He was tired of using everyone around him as a crutch.

Wiping his nose in his sleeve, Benji looked at himself in the mirror. He'd gotten used to the appearance of his eyebags, helped by the fact that he generally avoided looking in the mirror if he could avoid it, but he didn't recognize himself anymore. A good amount of his muscle mass had atrophied, making him look frail and feeble, his clothes hanging off him. The hunger he normally felt in the mornings after taking a few Xans to fall asleep barely affected him anymore. He chased it with cigarettes instead. Any food he did eat tasted terrible, even when Ish cooked it. Perhaps the sun and air would do him good, but he was doubtful. What he needed was help. There was only so much an escape could do for him.

As much as Benji wanted to say something in response to Victor's message, he couldn't organize his thoughts; there was too much to say. Most of all, that he didn't know what to do with the information that the love of his life could have died. He knew that when one dies, one ceases to exist, as if one never roamed the earth, never breathed the air, never made an impact on those they crossed paths with. From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust. He could handle his own mortality, he knew he was nothing remarkable. But Victor… he was special. So kind, understanding, brilliant, willing to fight. He deserved to live a long life.

Ensuring that he didn't have any traces of tears or crying left on his face, Benji exited the bathroom to see his friends taking their breakfast. He contemplated not eating with them but decided that he would join them. Even if he didn't feel like it, he decided: he would make himself eat. Then he would write back to Victor. While it was too early to forgive him, Benji decided in that moment that he wanted to stop needing him.

Victor lowered himself into his chair slowly before opening his laptop at an equally slow pace. Even after all this time, he still hadn't managed to figure out an efficient way to do these things, and he had too much pride to constantly be asking his mother or Pilar for help with basic tasks. He knew that he should be asking for help, at least that's one of the things he got out of therapy; but sometimes he just couldn't be bothered.

Now that he thought about it, he didn't remember shutting off his computer last night. Shrugging, he logged in and saw that it loaded instantly; it'd only hibernated. Strange…

It took him a moment to process the fact that his computer had remained as he left it aside from one small detail: the message he had written to Benji was nowhere to be found. He liked holding onto these things for his own sake; and normally this wouldn't be such a big deal, but he felt very exposed, as if he had opened his skin and let the wound dry in the air. Going into his drafts, he felt his heart rate spike when he saw that it wasn't there. The message had no business being anywhere else. He just hoped no one had read it.

Resting his head in his hand for a moment, Victor groaned. A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Come in," Victor mumbled.

"G'mornin', mi amor," Isabel said gently as she entered. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Victor sitting at his computer, his face scrunched in frustration. "Are you all right?"

"Mornin', Mamí," Victor replied. He swallowed before he continued, hesitant to meet her eyes, because he had a feeling he already knew the answer. "I… wrote an email last night, but when I went to look at it today, it was gone. You didn't… read it, did you?"

Isabel stiffened, blinking as her gaze darted away from his. They both knew she'd been caught; he closed her eyes. "I thought Benji deserved to see it, so I sent it to him."

He was finding it especially difficult to breathe and stay calm at this point. "It was private. Why would you do that? How many times do we need to have the conversation on boundaries?"

"Hah! Ay, que loco… Él habla de 'private' y 'boundaries'... You don't get to keep something like that private. Normally I respect your space and your judgement, but some things you need to share with people so they know what you're thinking," Isabel retorted as she narrowed her eyes.

Victor couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You deliberately went behind my back and violated my trust. I made my choice, mom. Why would you meddle in my life?"

"Maybe when you were growing up we didn't parent you very much because you were always so mature, in some ways more mature than even your father and I could comprehend. And I know you're a man now and you can make your own choices. But I'm going to be your mother now and tell you that what you did to Benji was dumb," Isabel explained, stepping closer to him with each word as her voice rose, until her finger was almost pointed in his face and she was nearly yelling.

Staring at the ground, Victor gulped. His mother hadn't even lost her cool this much when he had gotten into his accident.

"That's why I sent the message to him," Isabel continued her rampage, showing no sign of calming down, and Victor knew better than to interrupt her. "It's your life, and I know you acknowledged what you did and you've been therapized or whatever, but you can't just give up on people. I don't know what happened but you've become so… passive. I just don't want you to let someone who was perfect for you go because of what? A savior complex? Give me a break. You two are literally crazy for each other. And honestly at this point, that boy deserves so much better."

Finally going silent, Isabel took a sip of water and cleared her throat. Victor's jaw clenched.

"I understand where you're coming from," Victor said, his voice quiet, "but please never do that again. And I guess I'll have to be more careful with leaving things lying around for you to look at."

"That's all you have to say for yourself?" Isabel asked, incredulous. "Do you want me to say sorry for doing what you should have done a month ago? I thought I raised you better than that."

"Look, I know you're just trying to help me, but I don't wanna have this conversation anymore. It doesn't seem like what I'm saying is getting through to you," Victor sighed. He turned back to his computer and went into the "sent" folder and, lo and behold, the message he had composed was there. It was too late to unsend it.

"Fine. But just know that I'm so disappointed in you," Isabel said with an air of finality before she exited his room without another word.

Victor hadn't heard her utter those words in a long time. He knew it was a manipulation tactic, a damn good one at that, and that he shouldn't take it to heart. But hearing that directed at him still made him feel like a bad person.

When she had finally left him alone to sit in his guilt and ineptitude, heart clenching in his chest, Victor read the letter he had written again. He tried putting himself in Benji's place, thinking about how he would react to seeing these words, how it must have felt to have someone leave your life with a half-assed explanation about looking out for your well-being. It would be difficult to believe what Victor had written, he knew. A scarred heart wouldn't trust as easily.

Since the damage had already been done, Victor knew that all he could do was wait for some sort of response from Benji. Maybe he would just ignore it, and they could go back to avoiding each other and trying to move on. But perhaps his mother was right; perhaps Benji just needed a sign to know that he hadn't given up on him truly in his heart.

He switched to another tab on his browser where he had Instagram opened, specifically on Benji's profile, which luckily for him, was set to public. Eyebrows raised, he noticed a new post from when he had checked earlier (he wouldn't admit when that was if asked, of course).

The post consisted of ten photos, mostly of island scenery - sandy beaches, rocky cliffs, green mountains, crystalline water. There were a few selfies of Benji with the island in the backdrop, and Victor felt a pang in his chest as he gazed at his face. He didn't know if he was imagining the heaviness in the other's eyes, but he knew him well enough to know that even in his smiles, he was exhausted. And he wasn't the only one.

There was one image in particular that Victor found himself drawn to, just because Benji wasn't frequently present in his own photos. It was a photo of Benji sitting in the shade, brown hair a bit tousled and slightly longer than he remembered, with some palm trees in the background, and he was gazing off into the distance through sunken, dark eyes as if searching for something. Victor found himself holding his breath. This was the same way Benji looked at him before he gave him one of those small smiles reserved just for him. He wondered if Benji was thinking about him in that moment, too. And he wanted so badly just to talk to him. Perhaps Isabel's meddling would prove useful in facilitating that.

Now all he could do was wait.