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The sand scrapes his feet, scorching his skin in the torrid heat of August. He doesn’t care. The beach is bathed in the late afternoon light. In a few hours, the sun will be setting over the sea, tinting the water in shades of gold and crimson. The tide is rising, and soon, the waves will come licking the sand beneath their feet, crashing against the rocks before engulfing the shore under its swell. They’re the only ones still here.
Hajime gently pokes the shoulder next to him.
Tooru stirs on his towel, slowly emerging from the slumber he spent half the afternoon in. He bats his eyes at Hajime, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Hajime can feel himself flustering but doesn’t dare look away when Tooru smiles at him. He frowns instead.
Tooru stretches out his long limbs.The sun has tanned his diaphanous skin a pretty shade of pink despite the large amount of sunscreen he reluctantly applied. Locks of his hair are sprawled all over his head in a crown. He looks regal, he always does , and Hajime keeps staring. Tooru’s freckles have become visible in the sun, like they do every summer since they’ve been kids. They’ve always come to this cove.
Tooru has never been more beautiful, Hajime thinks, and wishes he could tell him.
Hajime never considered himself a daring person. So he doesn’t say anything, just looks at Tooru who stands up. He’s looking at the sea, but Hajime knows what he’s seeing is farther away.
Tooru is leaving soon, and so is he. Tooru is leaving soon to chase his dreams and Hajime is dying to tell him everything, to beg him to go with him, or to take him to Argentina. Hajime is dying and Tooru is unstoppable. So Hajime doesn't say anything.
Tooru is a shooting star, a wild fire, a laugh that can’t be stopped, waves crashing against the shore, the wind in spring, a candle in the dark, a will of steel and so full of dreams.
Tooru is everything and Hajime is letting him go.
A hand grabs Hajime’s own and Tooru is pulling him to the water. The waves lick their feet and Tooru is still holding his hand.
“It's probably the last time we get to come here before a while,” Tooru says.
Water comes to their knees and Tooru isn’t letting go.
“I’m going to miss this a lot,” he continues. Hajime isn't sure what this refers to.
It reaches their hips and Tooru is so close now that Hajime can't hold his gaze but isn’t able to look away either.
“What are you thinking about Iwa-chan?”
They’re immersed to the torso and Hajime never felt so small. Tooru is still cradling his hand, and he never wants him to let go.
They don’t go any deeper and Tooru takes a step closer.
“Hajime, stop thinking,” Tooru squeezes his hand.
Hajime squeezes back. “You’ve got seaweed in your hair.” He reaches for Tooru's head, threads his fingers through soft locks and kisses him. There is no seaweed in his hair, Hajime just needed something to make the whole situation lighter.
Hajime kisses Tooru and he’s being kissed back. It’s slow and tender and everything that they’ve not shown each other yet. He takes his time to explore Tooru's face, his fingers mapping silky skin.
They kiss and it feels like the last piece of a puzzle coming into place. It's obvious and maybe they’ve always known.
A wave comes crashing into them, throwing them back to the beach where their towels are dangerously close to the water. And as they pick their things and run away from the almost flooded cove, still soaking wet, Hajime thinks that maybe they’ll be alright.