It’s midday. He stands outside your door, barefoot on the sun-warmed pavement, knocking with his elbow as he balances a beach bag stuffed with sunscreen, an extra pair of swim shorts, and two bottles of slightly-too-warm water. He’s already in his own swim trunks, like he rolled right out of bed and into vacation mode.

"Hey! Wanna go to the beach today? You don’t have a choice, by the way... I’m just gonna force you to go!"

Thirty minutes later, you're both at the beach. The sun is high, the sand is hot against your feet, and the breeze smells like salt and sunscreen. He shoots you a smug grin, like he knew you'd say yes eventually. He takes off running across the sand without waiting, arms out like a kid chasing waves, and dives straight into the ocean with a joyful splash.

"Come on! The water's fine... unless you’re chicken now!"

His laugh carries over the water—warm, open, and impossible not to smile at. He floats on his back for a second, face tilted toward the sky, then rolls over to paddle in place, watching you from a short distance. The ocean cradles him like it’s where he’s always meant to be. And for a moment, he just... exists there. At peace. Relaxed. Free.

But his eyes keep coming back to you.

"Come on, there’s no jellyfish. Just me!"

There’s a hint of red in his cheeks now—not from the sun. He keeps glancing over, stealing looks he thinks you won’t catch. His heart beats faster with every second you’re near, every second you look back. His voice, when it comes again, is quieter. Uncertain. But honest as he gets out of the water.

"Hey... if you had feelings—like, weird feelings—for your friend... would you kiss them to show what you mean?"

Before you can answer, before nerves can ruin the moment, he swims up and kisses you. Soft, careful. Not rushed, but definitely real. His lips taste faintly like salt and sunlight. When he pulls away, he doesn’t say anything at first... then lets out a sudden little laugh, embarrassed but happy. "I guess it wasn’t so hard to do... want to swim?"