A Storm is Coming
The sky is blue. The breeze is warm. The sand under his fingertips is warm.
The water shimmers in front of him.
Tyson closes his eyes against the sun. Enjoying the feel of it on his face.
He hears laughter. Playful shrieks.
A girl pushes a boy into the water. The wind whipping her hair around. Bikini strings flying.
The boy climbs out of the water and chases her along the beach.
A group of college students are playing volleyball in the waves. A net is stretched between them.
Tyson notices a face among them. Smiling. Laughing. As he jogs to the shore to catch a stray ball. He's handsome. In a non-conventional way.
Around Tyson is a beach full of half-naked people. Young people of his age. Their bodies lithe and beautiful. His eyes drop to the guy's abs. The trickle of hair leading into his shorts.
What's his name? he wonders.
"Can I play with you guys?"
"Sure! Join us! We can use more players."
Tyson joins their game. He plays against the other guy's team. Up close, he sees that he has hazel eyes. A mix of green and blue.
Up close, he also notices a scar on his nose bridge.
"Hi" Tyson says to him when they're on a break. The guy is wiping water out of his golden hair.
"Hey" His smile is bright. His bottom lip pinker than the upper one because he was biting it a moment ago.
"I'm Tyson" He extends an arm.
"Mystel"
They shake.
His grip on his hand is firm.
His abs aren't perfect. The top one is slightly smaller than the one next to it. Making the whole set look lopsided.
Tyson's head is leaned back a against a wall. They're in a dark corner. Colors glide over their skin. The bass thrums in his chest.
"What kind of a name is Mystel?" he asks him.
"Stands for mysterious," he replies with an air of arrogance that is at once playful and vain.
"Pssh…is that latin?"
He shakes his head. Grinning. His grin is bewitching. His canines appear sharp. They stand out.
"Italian?"
"No" he answers with a giggle.
He thinks he's interested in him. He's not sure.
"You don't know, do you?" Tyson takes a swig from a beer bottle he'd filled with spiked peach punch.
Mystel rests a palm on the wall next to his head and leans in till his lips are almost brushing his ear. "I can't tell you what my name means without telling you my secret." The smell of salt and bergamot swath him.
Is he…?
He thinks he is.
Tyson tilts his face towards his. Mystel doesn't flinch.
"What's your secret?"
He is sure.
"I have many." He can taste his breath.
"I think I want to know them."
His fingers are longer than his. And slimmer. The colour of his skin is a unique shade of brown. It's a mix of bronze and beige. In between.
He doesn't know its name.
His palm is soft against his. Warm.
They giggle at the bar. Their elbows on the counter. Palms touching. Comparing the sizes of their hands.
"Longer. Not bigger."
"Longer is bigger."
"That's not how it works."
Tyson learns Mystel was named 'Mystel' because he was his mother's mystery baby. As in she didn't know when she got pregnant. Or who the father was.
Mystery baby. Mystel.
They are doing shots.
He's leaning more and more into Tyson's space with each round.
His heart picks up speed.
After the fifth round, when Mystel drags him off to another dark corner, Tyson thinks to himself: I want to live.
I want this.
Mystel's hand is on his forearm. On the inside of his elbow.
There's another wall behind him.
Walls around him.
He looks up at Mystel's green-blue eyes.
His honey-bronze skin.
His smooth smiling face. With a secretive glimmer in his eye.
Tyson pulls his head down and kisses him.
When his heart bursts this time, it bursts of freedom.
It bursts with happiness.
The colours overflow.
He tastes sweet and spicy.
He inhales through his nose as he's kissing him, pulling him closer.
Their tongues meld together.
And he thinks: I love this.
I love people.
I love life.
The small dimly lit room is hazy with marijuana and vibrating with low bass.
Julia's long legs are next to his as they lie on a hammock side-by-side. Passing a smoking bong of tobacco between them.
There are five to six other people in the room. Sprawled in various nooks. On blankets and mattresses. Happy. High.
Tyson's head is floating above his neck. He feels as if his forehead and skull have been detached. There's space. His brain's levitating above him.
Julia dips her head toward the mouth of the bong, inhaling with her eyes closed. She comes back blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.
Tyson's all warm and cozy.
"You should try ecstasy," she says, holding a small round tablet towards him on a fingertip.
Their arms are touching from shoulder to elbow.
Her bangs brush his earlobe. It tickles.
"I'm already high," he replies, throat dry.
"Get higher" She flicks the tablet off her finger. It drops on his tongue.
Melts in his mouth.
He's running.
Out of the hotel.
He's running.
To the beach.
He sees Mystel under the sun.
On the sand.
Golden head gleaming.
He grins at him.
Tyson runs up to him and kisses him.
A hand on each side of his face.
"You kissed a guy," says Michael. Or Eddie.
He's not sure.
It's MikEddie.
He's lying on the sand.
The sun on his forehead.
"I kissed a guy," he says. His eyes closed. His lips smiling. "And I liked it."
Julia's wearing expensive lingerie. Red and black. Heels on her feet as she struts around him.
She is so hot.
She has a small frilled umbrella in her hand.
She spins it on her shoulder as she looks at him lying there.
On the beach.
In mother nature's lap.
Spread eagle.
"Having fun?" asks Julia with a grin.
"Ecstatic" he replies.
"There's a carnival tonight. What are you wearing to it?" She drops the umbrella and climbs into his lap.
He grows rock hard.
"I don't know," he whispers as she comes close. Her lips hover over his.
"How do you want me?"
His crotch is under hers. His mouth is dry.
"I want you like this," she says, sealing their lips together.
He's sitting up. She's still in his lap.
His hands hang hesitantly over her hips.
His mouth is on her neck.
He can't go below her collarbone.
He can't.
That would be rude. Lewd.
He has her consent.
But it would still be rude.
They don't know each other that well.
Her body is not for him to touch.
He can't.
He raises his head to kiss her.
Tyson's waist-deep in the water.
The sun is setting. The sky is grey and cloudy.
The waves crash upon him.
The waves that don't — he crashes upon those.
"Ah fuck! It's freezing!" complains Michael.
"Freezing? What are you taking about?" asks Tyson. At home in the ocean. A wave washes him down.
Wonderful.
His chest is wide. It's open. It's singing with contentment.
His hair sticks to his nape as he faces the vast horizon.
Eddie and Michael are fucking around like pansies in shallow tide. Jeans hiked around their knees. Kenny's on dry land. He watches all three with a small, sober face.
Tyson dives when the next wave crescents over him.
It rushes past him with delicious, staggering force.
He wants to go farther. Deeper. He glances longingly at the white ripples in the distance.
Security is calling people away from the rising tide.
Tyson wades back. The ground gives way under him. He falls.
He swims back. Keeping his head underwater. There's salt in his nose.
It burns slightly.
When he's in the safe zone again, water around his shins, he has an epiphany.
There's a wild side to him. There's a part of him that wants adrenaline and danger. There's a part of him that longs for adventure.
Could he truly be satisfied with an ordinary life? The life he's planned out for himself ?
Could he be satisfied working an office job and coming home to a loving family everyday? Could he be satisfied with just that when he wants so much more?
When he feels the most alive when he's running. When there's wind in his hair. Fire in his calves. Adrenaline in his veins. Chest pumping. Heart flying.
He can't sit still in class for an hour. How could he sit still in an office for hours?
He's waiting on the steps for him. His dark form silhouetted against the bright night. The carnival started ten minutes ago. They're passing by the entrance of the hotel. In a stream of music and colours.
The lobby lights were switched off to save energy.
Tyson's boots make sound on the wooden steps as he descends one to face Kai who is facing the carnival.
The pink lamp hung on the outer wall of the hotel illuminates the side of his profile.
His elbows are on his knees. He's dressed in all black today.
"You missed your appointment," says Kai, without turning to look at Tyson.
"I didn't"
"I said eleven in the morning."
"You said 'eleven'," he stresses. "I took that as 11 pm." He holds up his wrist to show him his watch on his wrist. "It's 10:55. I'm right on time."
Kai finally turns his head to look at him. The pink light is on the column of his neck. Outlining his face.
His hair is styled. Professionally. He was absent all morning. He must have been working.
The sound of drums fill the air. There's shouting and chanting.
Tyson brings his feet together on the step.
He can't read Kai's eyes.
"Let's go" he says, getting up.
Tyson follows him to the back of the hotel.
To the deserted beach.
The chilly air greets him. He's nervous all of a sudden.
"Uh...I thought we'd have an audience," says Tyson. Trying to fill the silence.
"I thought you wanted to prove yourself to me," says Kai, walking ahead. "And you. Not others"
"Of course I-" he stumbles, the wind blows through his hair. "I don't need an audience. I just thought we'd have one." He takes a deep breath. He's all over the place. He needs to get a grip on it.
The sound of dark, looming waves crashing on the shore is spiking his pulse.
There are lights along the back of the hotel. It's helping them navigate around the beach.
Kai stops at a spot. Turning to face him.
"Let me get my shoes off," Tyson bends to undo his boots.
Kai toes out of his. Rolling up his shirt sleeves.
"Okay" Tyson says when he's done, pulling up to his full height and brushing the hair out of his eyes.
His feet pad along the sand as he positions himself opposite Kai.
There could be a six-feet long distance between them.
For some reason he's envisioning a circle in his head. A circle on whose perimeter they are standing. Two points opposite each other .
Jesus, who put this shit in his head?
Kenny?
"Who's counting?" asks Tyson, lifting his eyes from the ground. "You or me?"
"Whoever puts the other on his back," says Kai.
"I can't trust you."
"You can count for yourself if you want."
Tyson puts his nose in the air. "Fair"
He sees Kai clench his fists once.
"You sure you can fight?" Tyson asks kindly. "You didn't sleep last night."
Kai doesn't answer. Instead he takes a step to the side. Along the circle. And beckons Tyson forward with two fingers.
Oh okay
They're starting already.
Let's go, motherfucker.
Tyson shuffles back. Away from him.
They circle each other in the dark. Slowly.
Two lions ready to pounce on each other at any moment. Lions? His inner voice asks him, derogatorily, as Kai prowls forward. Yes, lions! he replies back.
He's the king of the jungle.
Ready to take on another king. The evil king of course. Take over his throne. And banish him to the darkness forever.
"Are you talking to yourself?" asks Kai.
Snapping him out of his thoughts. "What?"
There's a grin begging to break free in the corners of Kai's mouth. "You said that out loud," he says.
Tyson becomes mortified. He turns into stone for a second. He cries out when Kai gets him.
"Aargh! No!" He's tackled into the ground. Kai over him. "No!" Fuck non-violence. He is full violence.
He aims a punch. It hits its mark on Kai's jaw. Whipping his head to the side.
He never won without striking anyways. He was trained to fight with a sword. And use his hands like them when he didn't have one.
He's a fighter. Who draws blood every time.
He wiggles out from under Kai and attacks from the side. Pushing his shoulder to put him on his back.
Kai's arms lash out to arrest Tyson bodily in his hold as he falls back. Like vices around his ribs.
Tyson uses his free hands to shove his jaw. With all his might. Forcing his head into the sand. Is your neck as strong as your biceps, Kai?
He can feel his muscles straining. A vein standing up along his throat. He doesn't let off. This position is too good.
His hands slip off his face when Kai pushes him into the sand. Throwing him off, basically.
Tyson lays flat on his front. Keeping his elbows and hands under him. I will not give you my arms.
Kai has to heave him up by his waist. He tries to make that as difficult as possible.
He gets flung onto his back after a minute anyway. He travels a few feet. Asshole. He lands with an 'oof'.
He kicks when Kai tries to come close. He's on his feet.
He needs to keep him away so he can get up too. He gathers sand in his fist. Kai's gaze falls upon it.
Hah
Tyson uses the reprieve to scramble up to his feet. Backing away a few steps.
Kai recalculates. Eyeing him as he moves around.
The circling begins for a second time.
This one lasts much shorter.
Kai strikes first again. Aiming for his sand-filled fist. Tyson whirls around and ducks. His sand gets snatched out of his hand regardless.
Fucker!
Son of a- When Kai attempts to trip him, he jerks his head back into his.
Hard.
He's disgruntled for a second, but it's enough for Tyson to slip free.
They fight for a long time. Far longer than the day before. The carnival reaches the city. The hotel gets nearly empty as those who didn't go along with the others leave for night clubs.
Minutes later, Tyson has Kai on his back. His head between his thighs. Not in the good way. He's squeezing him. Again, not in a good way.
He has Kai's arm in his hold for once. He's twisting. He has it caged in the lock of his own arms and chest.
And he refuses to let go.
Kai's straining to break free. His hand is gripping painfully on Tyson's legs. But his legs are his strongest body parts. Kenny told him to use it to his advantage. He is.
Bless Kenny.
He is winning this fight.
"Four" he counts. "Three"
Mississippi.
Two more mississippis.
"Two"
Fuck, yeah!
Last-
He gasps when he gets a handful of sand thrown into his eyes.
It is blinding. And gritty. And painful.
His legs unlock. So does his hands.
Kai pries free and attacks Tyson. Forcing him back into the ground and climbing on top of him. His thighs around his hips. His hands on his wrists.
"Ten" he starts.
Tyson blinks the sand out of his eyes. Kai's face swims into his vision. "Cheater!"
"You did it first," hisses Kai. He did. He had thrown it at Kai moments earlier to lock him between his thighs. But that doesn't matter.
"I'm one-fifty pounds," Tyson grinds, writhing under him.
"So it's fair for you to throw sand at me?"
"It's not me that's being unfair. It's the universe."
Kai's jaw clenches at his bullshit.
"What?"
He curls his lip. "Eight"
"No!" Tyson thrashes.
He's a fish. Out of water.
"I guess the good King is getting banished tonight," says Kai.
"Fuck you. I threw sand, but it was so much less," he hisses.
He is blessed with a smirk. "Seven"
Tyson digs his heels into the sand. Bending his knees. Or trying to. He can. A little.
"Six"
He kicks at the ground. Pushing down with his feet so his body can slide up.
He manages an inch upward.
"Five"
Holy hell. This is taking everything out of him.
Why is this motherfucker so heavy? Where's all his weight coming from?
Tyson gets another inch. A few more and he can turn to his front and butt Kai away. With his butt.
"Four"
"Huh? Weren't you at six?"
"No"
"You were"
"No. Three."
"Huh?!" Liar. Tyson pushes at the ground hard. His hips lift.
Yes!
"Two"
No
No
Too soon
He tries the wriggle again. The uncontrollable thrashing. He flails his head from side to side. His right wrist jumps off the ground. He is almost free.
"One"
Tyson stills when he hears him.
His gaze locks on Kai's. Whose hair is hanging over one brow.
He won.
Again.
Again.
After he trained so hard. After he almost had him.
Tyson was supposed to win.
He should have won.
He should have.
This is unbelievable. This is so frustrating.
He screams. At the top of his lungs.
It rings over the entire beach.
And Kai knows. He's unleashed a storm.
A/N: If this reads like a fever dream, I've done my job here. You were right. This break they're all on is kind of like spring break. It's a lot like one actually. And Tyson hadn't been joining in the fun this far. He did today. In this chapter. He got a real taste of Roppongo. A smidgen of it at least.
And he's on his road to self-discovery. Originally, I didn't write a note when I published this chapter. But since, some of you expressed you were getting confused. I thought I'd help you understand it better.
Thank you for reading. Have a lovely day.
