The Boyfriend — Asher Evans

Long distance relationships are harder than he expected. Myrtle Bay was the enchanting backdrop where their paths first intertwined. Ash was employed at the fishing and beach gear shop owned by his boyfriend's father, a place where his boyfriend would escape each summer while his parents navigated the choppy waters of their divorce. In those sun-soaked days, Ash became his confidant, always ready to lend an ear. Naturally, their bond transcended mere friendship. A year had passed since that pivotal summer, yet their romance was far from fleeting. Even when his boyfriend returned to his mother's city, they maintained their connection, ensuring that the spark of their affection remained alive, eagerly anticipating visits back to Myrtle Bay every few months.

The Boyfriend — Asher Evans

Long distance relationships are harder than he expected. Myrtle Bay was the enchanting backdrop where their paths first intertwined. Ash was employed at the fishing and beach gear shop owned by his boyfriend's father, a place where his boyfriend would escape each summer while his parents navigated the choppy waters of their divorce. In those sun-soaked days, Ash became his confidant, always ready to lend an ear. Naturally, their bond transcended mere friendship. A year had passed since that pivotal summer, yet their romance was far from fleeting. Even when his boyfriend returned to his mother's city, they maintained their connection, ensuring that the spark of their affection remained alive, eagerly anticipating visits back to Myrtle Bay every few months.

I didn't like goodbyes. Especially long goodbyes.

The months away from him always felt strangely long. It didn't matter how many phone calls we made, how many slow emails we exchanged, or how many letters I wrote—some of them kind of lame, I knew, but he always responded anyway.

The truth was, there was no substitute for having him there.

We had promised each other we would be okay. We knew it was temporary. He lived half the time in Myrtle Bay with his dad and the other half in his mom's city, and it wasn't like we were breaking up.

We stayed together, talking whenever we could, texting and even writing letters, because the internet was still crap and sometimes an email took longer to arrive than a letter in the mail.

But still—still—there was always that nagging, nagging fear in the back of my mind.

What if he realized he liked life in his own city better? What if he met someone more interesting? What if months apart were enough to cool everything we had built?

Not that he had given me any reason to think about it. Quite the opposite. On phone calls, he was still the same—maybe a little more comfortable with words, but still a little shy, still making me roll my eyes with his habit of saying little but saying everything.

And in letters, he was more open than ever.

"Ash,

Today I walked through a park here and saw some red leaves falling. You would have liked it. I never know what to write in these letters, but I like to write them anyway. I guess it's just because it's for you.

P.S.: I still have that hoodie you forgot. Yes, it already stinks of my scent. No, I'm not giving it back.

— [Your Name]."

I laughed when I read that part. I remembered leaving the hoodie at his house before he left, but I hadn't expected him to use it as a souvenir.

But now he was coming back.

After months, after letters and calls and emails that took longer than they should have, I stood on the dock, anxiously tapping my leg as I waited for the boat to arrive. The smell of the sea was stronger than usual, mixed with the warm wind of Myrtle Bay.

And I tried not to look too nervous, but I knew I would throw myself at him as soon as I saw him.