CHAPTER ONE - SUNRISES AND POETRY
Jin is often amazed by the wonders of life as many are: seeing the sky bleed from bright oranges and pinks into a baby blue, hearing the bell chime of a child's laughter, and seeing gold shine through a lover's eyes. He was appreciative of the things placed before him, but was born with the curiosity and mischief that came with loving the chase of one's dreams. He lived how he wanted to, brought himself up by his own coattails and dusted himself off because no one else was to do it for him, and enjoyed being happy. Jin was simple and uncomplicated, restless and demure. He tired of things as easily as he appreciated them. He learned that beauty was fleeting. It came and went, and rarely did it ever stay. Beauty is earned.
He lives by remembering this; that beauty required a splurge of saturated brilliance and free spirit; that it can live in everything if you look hard enough. His carefully opinionated way of living much to often caused his attention to begin to drift from one life-given thing to another, causing his spirit to tire in ways he was sure weren't normal for the typical individual. Too many things too appreciate in this minuscule world he built for himself. Too many things to loathe as well.
But despite all the characteristics he convinced himself he had, despite his wandering and restless spirit that fluttered from place to place, he couldn't tire of her. He couldn't distract himself from her obnoxious laugh or her heartbeat when she fell asleep or her voice in the mornings. He couldn't loathe her smooth skin or dare to abhor the curls that were placed so imperfectly atop her head. Instead of following the standards Jin had set in his mind, that beauty stayed. And stayed. And stayed.
No matter what he did. No matter what God himself did.
He remembered thinking the day was despicably beautiful. The sun had just began to rise that freshly born Wednesday morning, and the pure unfiltered beauty that lived between the clouds was almost too much for him to handle. He can only encounter so much glory at once. He was simply enduring his matutinal walk alongside surfside beach, hearing the waves softly crash against his bare feet, awaiting the heightened warmth of a fully risen sun. It was just shy of 8 a.m, a time where this beach was usually completely vacant and gracefully left him at his lonesome. And he was, for a short while, before he noticed a woman sitting cross-legged in the sand a few yards before him.
She wasn't too close to the water - if she stretched her legs out some her toes would kiss the foam of a wave - and she looked peaceful. As Jin squinted, he noticed that she was writing. Or doodling, perhaps, he just saw a pen move against paper and assumed the former. She had mahogany skin and her hair was big and unruly - which didn't strike him as abnormal, Miami had skin tones of nearly every shade and hair of nearly every texture. From where he stood, Jin could see that her features were soft. She was pretty, he decides, before returning his attention to himself and putting an end to his awkward observance of the writing woman. As he stood in silence, he could see the sun peaking more and more above the clouds, slowly appointing the water a coruscant glow, and a golden gleam across the morning sky. This signified the end of a morning in solitude and the beginning of a day in an uncured and tiring rush, pushing one ever deeper into a mentally overwhelmed hole or, for those most fortunate, into opportunity that blossoms with each passing moment.
The woman he previously observed still had yet to even notice his presence, still immersed in whatever she was doing in her book. She would soon finish, dust off the sand that stuck to her legs and walk off, entering another new day and try her best to get through it. Her routine morning of writing fell to a quiet end. She sighed with longing; if she could, she would simply sit and write away her feelings until her fingers damn near fell off, but she will not allow herself to succumb to the desire. She must always meander back into reality. But she commends herself for taking the time to get lost - even if it's just a little bit - every morning: to see the sunrise and write about how she felt about seeing it, or to taste the newborn salt that drifted in the air.
As she finally stood and gathered herself together, a man came into her line of vision, standing alone and peering at the waves before him. His hair slowly wisped around in the morning air, and she wondered how she didn't come to notice him sooner. She ponders on this for a moment more before turning away; he had begun his morning alone with no interference and it would remain that way. She turned on her heel and eschewed the man from her mind with ease.
Jin took his time removing himself from the hypnotizing waves, backing away slowly until he finally turned around fully to begin walking back to inside the city. He passed circled tables with their patio umbrellas tied and waiting to be opened later into the afternoon when the sun decides to shine its brightest, and he could faintly hear seagulls wailing unceremoniously in the distance. He passed an array of trash cans next - which always meant the complete end of the morning, because the trash cans were nearest to the entrance of the beach. A rustle was heard as he continued walking, and it gained little attention until a louder noise followed it. The displeasing sound of paper falling against hard cement greeted his ears before he looked down in front of him. A small notebook laid disheveled and opened face down at his feet.
"Oh." Jin blinks at the book's sudden appearance from seemingly nowhere. He leaned down to pick it up, seeing almost incomprehensible calligraphy-like scribbles sprawled against the lined paper. So she was writing, as he guessed. He caught a few words - very few - simply going into detail about the morning before and after the sun decided to rise. She must've arrived just before him. The world golden catches his attention before someone clears their throat, startling him.
"Excuse me, sir, but I believe that belongs to me."
It was the girl from before, obviously, because no one else was on the beach. He blinked away his surprise and quickly extended his arm to return the notebook to its owner. He stuttered as he spoke; he didn't mean to snoop, it sort of just happened.
"S-sorry! I was looking for a name or something-"
"It's fine. Thank you. I appreciate it." She gave a tight-lipped smile.
"You're welcome," he said.
For some reason he didn't want this short interaction to end with awkwardly becoming acquainted and taking a quick leave. He was intrigued now, but he wasn't exactly sure why. So he introduced himself before she turned and left.
"I'm Jin, by the way."
He observed her fully for the first time, she was even prettier up close. Her lips were turned in an unexplainable frown or half smile, and her white blouse gave her skin a noticeable glow as she stood in the morning sun.
She made a sound that Jin could sort between a scoff or a short laugh, nodding her head.
"Hello Jin. I'm Rina." She smiled wider than before, and Jin was glad to see it.
A pretty name for an even prettier girl, Jin thought.
"Oh," Rina giggled. "Thank you. Again."
Jin's cheeks immediately bloomed with a burst of red. "Did I say that out loud?" He coughed in embarrassment.
"You did."
"Ahh," Jin pursed his lips as he sighed at his clumsiness, "that must've sounded weird. I'm sorry." At Rina's dismissive hand wave, he speaks again, "Are you like a poet or something? I'm not trying to be too intrusive, I was just curious."
But instead of looking uncomfortable at his question like he almost expected, she simply nods, confirming his suspicions.
"Yeah. A poetess, if you will," she laughs. "I come here every morning to write. It's just now that I'm noticing someone else here this early."
"Same here," Jin says. "I come here just about every morning too. I've never seen you."
Jin let himself wonder about the coincidence of the passing moment; about how he's come here damn near every single day and has never seen Rina, the poetess who just so happened to have the same idea he had, minus the writing part. He wonders if it was his imaginative focus that always kept his mind only on the scenery that kept him from noticing her. Or if it was something else that lead them both where they were now, finally getting acquainted.
"Well," Rina says, shrugging. "We've seen each other now."
At this, Jin let out his own laugh. He liked this girl.
"That we have."
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a/n: hey um look at that! yellow's rewritten :). i apologize if you're disappointed by me choosing to change it, but when i tell you i almost threw up reading the older version ....
it was a mess, luv. a damn mess.
so here we are, a freshly rewritten yellow on your screen. i hope you enjoy it. as you can probably tell, i have sort of given up on the lowercase intended aesthetic for my fics, starting with this one. (i really don't feel like going back and correcting all my others, though, so they will stay the way that they are.) that's pretty unprofessional lol but i dont care. i just needed this fic to be as mature as i want it to be, and fill up plot holes ... and edit things in this fic that went without a bit of thinking. a mess, darlings. a. mess.
i hope you enjoy this. i reeaaally do. its one of my favorite stories i've ever come up with, and i enjoy writing it as much as i enjoy daydreaming about writing it. give it loads of love for me. i'm feel like i'm still gonna have to beg you to comment so i'll begin the groveling.
love y'all. even if it seems like i don't.