𝟎𝟑; The Waves Inside the Wooden Walls;

There were nights when the sea did not roar, when it whispered instead, as if speaking to itself. Minho had begun to recognize this whispering-the sound of waves striking the wooden walls of their small seaside inn, repeating over and over like a question with no answer. It was unlike the storms of past nights, unlike the chaotic sounds that drove people to flee. This was soft, persistent, delicate-enough to awaken memories that had been quietly sleeping in the corners of his mind.

He guessed that Newt could hear it too. Perhaps that was why he often stayed awake, eyes wide open, unblinking. Occasionally, Minho would glance over to see Newt leaning against the window, moonlight casting a silver glow across his hair, glimmering like a fragile ribbon of glass. Newt spoke nothing, only listened, and Minho realized that this silence was his way of conversing with the sea, and with the silent ache he carried within himself.

One afternoon, after finishing work, Minho found Newt once again on the wooden pier. The scene was familiar: waves lapping gently against the weathered planks, the salty scent of the sea rising into the air-but today, there was a difference. Newt had no “Leaves of the Wind” notebook in his hands. He sat empty-handed, gaze sinking into the murky water below.

Minho stepped lightly on the pier, letting the boards creak intentionally to announce his presence. But Newt did not look up. He remained still, as if trying to hear something only he could understand.

“You always write,” Minho murmured softly, careful not to shatter the delicate hush of the sea.

Newt gave a faint smile, small ripples like waves across the surface. “Some days, the wind has nothing left to tell.”

Minho tilted his head, curious. “Or maybe you simply don’t want to write?”

“Perhaps.” His voice was husky, carrying the salty tang of the ocean. “Sometimes, even the wind grows tired. It blows endlessly, carrying away what people wish to forget. But it also brings back, from somewhere else, things that hurt even more.”

Minho fell silent. Words failed him. He simply sat beside Newt, listening to his quiet sighs merge with the wind. Waves, wind, breaths-all together telling a story of nameless loss, of fragments of life that people could never hold onto.

Night fell, and the village sank into stillness. Minho lay in his room when he heard faint knocks against the wooden wall nearest the sea. At first, he thought it was just the waves. But when he listened closer, he recognized something different-the sound of someone wanting to remind themselves that they were still awake, like memories echoing from past rainy nights in distant cities.

Minho pulled on his jacket and stepped outside. The moonlight shimmered across the pier, silver on damp planks. And there he was: Newt. His hands rested on the wood, tapping slow, deliberate rhythms, as if time itself paused to listen.

“You calling me?” Minho asked, half-teasing, half-worried, and sat down beside him.

Newt looked up, startled for a moment, then shook his head. “I just… don’t want the waves to be the only ones hearing me.”

“Well, now the waves must share,” Minho said with a soft smile, though his chest tightened, feeling part of that quiet sorrow spill into the night.

They sat in silence, listening to the murmuring sea, the tapping of Newt’s fingers blending with the rhythm of the waves. After a long while, Newt whispered:

“Do you ever think that every wave is a reminder? Of what the sea has kept… of what it never returns?”

Minho gazed out at the darkness beyond the shore. The water was black and deep, like ink spilling across weathered pages. “What have you lost here?”

Newt did not answer immediately. A long silence drifted between them, the only sound the gentle caress of waves. Then he whispered: “Not a thing… but a part of myself. Once, I tried to leave. But I didn’t have the strength. I returned, and since then… I’ve never been able to go.”

Minho leaned closer, studying the unblinking eyes that shimmered like a brimming pool. He wanted to reach out, to hold that fragile spirit, but stopped midway, afraid of breaking something so delicate.

Days later, Newt did not appear at the pier. Minho searched everywhere before finding him in their small room, oil lamp casting soft shadows against damp walls. On the table lay the “Leaves of the Wind,” open but empty, pages blank as if daring memory itself to stay silent.

“You’re not writing?” Minho asked gently.

“Sometimes…” Newt looked up, voice caught in his throat. “…if I keep writing, I’ll trap myself in these words. Every line is a tether, tying me to this sea. And one day, I won’t know if I live to write, or write to live.”

Minho quietly closed the notebook, sliding it aside. “Then today, you don’t have to write. Just breathing is enough.”

Newt paused, astonished by the simplicity of the words. His shoulders trembled, like a bay suddenly calmed, unsure whether to continue blowing.

That night, Minho led him down to the beach. Bare feet sank into the cold, salty sand as waves lapped over their ankles, erasing footprints, leaving only glistening trails under the moonlight. Newt spoke little, occasionally picking up a shell and tossing it into the water, as if each shell carried a memory, and the sea alone could hold it without questioning.

Finally, Newt turned toward him, a weary, unspoken smile on his lips. “You know, Minho… some people cannot close their eyes. Because when they do, all they see are what they’ve lost.”

Minho said nothing. He shielded Newt from the wind with his hand, instinctively, silently wishing he could be a wall for those waves inside Newt’s heart, so they would no longer knock alone.

The waves continued their endless pulse. The wind swept through, carrying salt and moisture. In the quiet of the night, Minho realized that sometimes silence itself is enough-to listen, to understand, and to simply be present. He and Newt, two souls touching like wave and shore, learning to endure loss, to endure longing, and to exist together, just through being.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***