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“Did y’know that dates aren’t limited to water, sand, and stones?”
“I do.”
“And did y’know that dates don’t have to involve so much walking either?”
“Yup, I do.”
Tommy frowns. “Y’know, this is usually the part where you whisk me away to another place.”
“Mhm,” Ranboo hums, his grip on the blond’s hand tightening.
And there it is, those mhm’s dripping with so much fondness that Tommy doesn’t know what to do with it. It makes him grab for his chest, bracing the heart throbbing loudly in his ears. This isn’t normal! Surely, it isn’t. To feel this way whenever love is concerned? It’s as if Ranboo forced five cups of coffee down his throat and left him to palpitate to death, it’s simply too maddening!
“I hate it when you do that,” Tommy grumbles distastefully.
“The what?”
Ranboo’s feigning innocence. Even in the dark, Tommy can see how the corners of his mouth lift up a bit, eyes crinkling in amusement. If this were any other time, he’d be priding himself for making the man smile, but he’s being too annoying right now in his opinion.
“The mhm thing,” he emphasizes.
“Why?”
“It makes me feel things.”
Ranboo looks back at him, stopping their little trek to laugh at his predicament. “Feeling things aren’t bad?”
“Yeah, but when you do it– it makes me want to– I don’t know, explode,” Tommy tries conveying. “I’m not a creeper, Ranboo.”
The analogy is childish, though he can’t find any other way to put it. He thinks there’ll never be a time when he can perfectly explain the way Ranboo compels his heart to somersault like an acrobat, but he’ll for sure as hell try.
“Does it make this place here beat faster?” Ranboo asks and presses two of his fingers over his left sternum, smiling slyly.
“Ranboo, I will push you down this hill.”
“Don’t, because you’ll actually get arrested this time.”
Tommy stops walking, pulling Ranboo a few steps back by their linked hands. “Holy shit, I’m 18! ” He then laments, “oh my God, my life is over.”
“Oh, poor you,” Ranboo grins, tugging them back along the track, “but you really need to stop distracting us or else we’ll just never get there.”
Before their whole escapade towards a shore that Ranboo had claimed to be isolated, Tommy was in his apartment editing a long overdue video he promised he’d release. Perhaps he needs a break from the constant clicking and typing he’s been doing, or some food to stave off the hunger burning his stomach, but…
It can wait.
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock—
That, however, cannot wait at all.
With a groan, he tears his airpods from his ears and stomps to his door. An American with dirty blond hair, a vintage-looking jacket, and two coats slung over his arm is the last thing he was expecting though.
“Ranboo?” The man turns around, quickly pocketing his phone and engulfing him in a warm embrace. Tommy furrows his eyebrows. “Ranboo, mate, what are you doing here? Didn’t you just get back yesterday?”
“Hello to you too.” Ranboo draws his thumbs over the underside of his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself?”
“Fuck off, man. I’m not the one who keeps catching back-and-forth flights like an idiot,” Tommy says, pushing him back.
“Look, I have something planned.”
He sighs. “If this is so you could make up for not being here–”
“It isn’t! It isn’t– well, I mean, I guess it kinda is, but,” Ranboo scratches his nape before grabbing his hand carefully in his, “you can indulge me for a while, right?”
And the taller must’ve noticed his hesitance, because while Tommy would absolutely love to accept whatever the fuck he’s offering, he’s also concerned for Ranboo’s lack of rest.
“Unless you’re busy then we can do this another ti–”
Tommy squeezes his hand. “Shut the fuck up, already. Just buy me dinner and we’re good.”
“Gotcha’, meet me downstairs.” Then a kiss to the crown of his head. “Thank you.”
And now he’s here; his lover tugging him by his hand through a dim trail hidden away from Brighton’s city lights. The sun has long set since they started their walk – the distant cries of gulls, and cold, evening air settling in evenly across wide, spacious grasslands situated next to the sea.
Tommy is, admittedly, worried for Ranboo’s safety, more so than his. They talked about his ever growing eyesight problem a few weeks ago, so him leading both of them in a dark path has Tommy glancing at his face from time to time.
He recalls him tweeting his complaints to his audience as well, something about getting glasses, which Tommy’s only a little excited for. He wishes he got ahold of a much younger Ranboo smiling wide, braces out in the open – but the American deleted the image fast out of sheer embarrassment after sending it.
Tommy pulls the falling sleeve of his coat back over his shoulders. While the extra garment Ranboo personally brought for him was a nice gesture, the coat’s purpose is evolving more to be a nuisance from the amount of times it slid off from his body.
But he can’t find it in himself to be completely mad, not when Ranboo handed it to him shyly as they got out of his car, a hopeful smile in his face.
“We’re here,” Ranboo tells him when their figures are finally bathed in moonlight. “Not a lot of people come here during the night.”
Tommy looks over at the scenery from Ranboo’s shoulder and truly, his boyfriend outdid himself with this one. The white, pebble shore stretches far and wide; enclosed by the greenish cliff-face they were strolling through earlier. He supposes the drive here is worth his cramped legs, hiding his face in Ranboo’s back when a gust of wind breezes along the beach.
The taller continues guiding him down the trail until they arrive at a spot fairly far-away from the couple handful of people occupying the area. Kneeling on the sand, Ranboo begins unpacking the stuff he’s carried in his comically large camping backpack.
Tommy grimaces as he keeps bringing out item after item; there’s folded blankets, a speaker, two flasks filled with water, a box of pastries that he recognizes to be from the bakery he visits frequently on the boardwalk, and crisps. When Tommy kneels beside him, there’s suddenly tupperwares of food and mosquito repellant beside his shoes.
The blond puts a hand on the other’s shoulder, stroking it gently. “Is your back okay? I could’ve helped carry these things, y’know.”
“I’m good, don’t worry. You can stop watching me like I’m gonna die the next second now.” Tommy feels the tip of his ears heat up from being caught, he knew he wasn’t the most subtle of people, but was he seriously that obvious? He didn’t need to ponder on the answer, however, because Ranboo sighs, a fond soft breath of a sigh, and says, “you’re really obvious.”
“You’re such a dick!” Tommy shouts and pushes the sole of his dirty white converse on Ranboo’s dark trousers. The white sand stains it, leaving an imprint of patterns.
Tommy yelps when Ranboo grabs his shoe and makes him fall over the ground. The grains get swept up in his hair, creating an annoying itch. “There, we’re even.”
After bickering for too long and pushing each other towards the sand in a fit of hearty giggles, they eventually gather enough wood for the fire. Tommy stares as the warm, orange embers light his lover’s gray eyes, adding a bright twinkle that has him wishing he had his camera with him, just so he could immortalize a face this charming.
Though, maybe a camera will never catch such a gentle gaze, that this is the world’s way of saying, “no, the real thing is better!” So he shrugs the thought of a camera, and wishes his brain is a strong enough substitute for it instead.
They share the food Ranboo brought like a feast. Tommy’s never been glad he hasn’t eaten yet. “Food tastes better when you’re eating with someone. It brings people closer,” he tells Ranboo as he bites his scone.
Then Ranboo, who habitually teases the shit out of him, asks, “is that why you always invite me out?”
Tommy scoffs his pastry in response.
Ranboo has half the decency to look ashamed when Tommy asks if he bought any marshmallows so they could roast some and he answers with a simple, “I didn’t think that far ahead.”
They opt in laying the blanket out instead, turning the speaker on and arguing which songs are getting added to their slowly growing beach playlist. Ranboo recounts stories from his trip in America; how Wilbur, albeit irresponsibly, gave him an alcoholic drink in the wedding reception, or how mind-addling it was to see several people he looked up to – drunk in one place.
Tommy merely nods along, huddling closer under his arm and wrapping another blanket around their forms.
“Do I look old for my age?”
Tommy peers up from Ranboo’s chest at the question. “Huh? Well, maybe? My college friends thought you were 20 when they saw you on my phone, if that helps.”
“Well,” the American starts, resting a hand over his hip before stretching his fingers upwards and gesturing to the black ring. “People thought I was engaged.”
“Huh?!”
“Yeah! Uh– this kind of ring is really common, apparently, and I had to– like– put it in my middle finger at some point in the night so that people would stop asking about it.”
Tommy eyes the ring again and tilts his head in confusion. “Okay..? Why is it in your ring finger again, then?”
Ranboo smiles. “So I can just say that I’m engaged to you.”
Hiding his crimson face, he sputters, “you’re a fuckin’ idiot, Ranboo. Shut the fuck up and die.”
The soft thumping of his heart dissolves into an endless marching band, shaking his ribcage to the rhythm of the waves crashing near them. He’s convinced he’s gonna die of heart failure.
“This is typically the scene when either of the two characters in a terrible rom-com film start pointing out constellations,” he says, changing the topic from stupid, little engangement rings.
“Mhm?” Ranboo glances up. “You know any?”
“No.”
His lover snorts at his honesty. “Why did you– why did you even mention it if you don’t know any?”
“I know the Big Dipper,” he mentions as if it’ll change anything.
“Tommy, everyone knows the Big Dipper.”
“Do you know the Big Dipper?”
“Yes.”
“Pretend you don’t.”
“Alright,” Ranboo divulges easily with a snicker. He schools his expression into a shock one. “Tom, what’s this Big Dipper you speak of! I’ve never heard of it ever !”
“It’s our asterism, Ranboo. We invented it.”
Ranboo brushes his curls from his forehead. “You do look like you hung up the stars.”
“Shut up, man!” He exclaims, propping himself up using his elbows. “The Big Dipper also has a companion beside it called the Little Dipper. Very self-explanatory, right?”
Ranboo nods.
“If you look at them up there—don’t actually do that, you fuckin’ idiot—if you look at them up there carefully, you’ll see how the Big one is upright while the Little is upside down.”
“And what does that mean for them?”
Tommy bites his lip. He didn’t mean for it to be so serious, but, “it means they balance each other, because they’re opposites. Their differences are what makes them complete.”
“Oh… That’s interesting, actually.” Ranboo stares at the sky up ahead silently. “I’m just gonna grab something.”
“Sure.” Tommy rolls off his chest and onto the blanket.
He hears Ranboo mutter incoherent sentences to himself before rummaging through his bag. Tommy bounces his legs, wondering if he said anything wrong that might’ve put him off. He isn’t brave to look back at him, however, so he stays in their blanket, stomach writhing in anticipation for the worse.
Realistically, Ranboo would’ve told him if he did say anything bad. They agreed to keep themselves open and– is that a match?
“Shit,” the taller swears quietly.
Tommy lets it play out; attempting to decipher the swishing of, what he assumes, is a match against its box together. It goes on and on, accompanied by a couple of swear words – and well, there’s only so much patience Tommy has.
“Dude, what are you– oh,” he pauses.
In front of him is Ranboo, a cake in his left hand and a lit-up match in the other.
“I know you said I don’t have to make up for anything, but I really wanted to celebrate your birthday with you,” Ranboo blurts out so fast that Tommy thinks he just imagined him opening his mouth for a brief moment. “So, uh– wanna make a wish?”
If Tommy’s feet carried him faster than his brain ever did, then that’s only for Ranboo to know.
He ushers the other to put the cake down while he blows the match out—and in a haze of pure adrenaline, Tommy pulls him by his jaw and pushes their lips together, drowning himself in the heat of Ranboo’s body, the ebbing of the tide, and their breathless gasps in-between a force that wraps them in each other’s arms. Closer, closer, and closer—Ranboo lifts him to his lap, tilting his head and licking into his mouth, swallowing his quiet moans.
A thumb caresses his cheek when they pull away. In Tommy’s delirious state, Ranboo speaks, chuckling, “you know, I worked hard to light that match up.”
“Oh, sorry.”