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The waves shimmered faintly under the moonlight, breaking against the docks in soft, rhythmic laps. Nikolian sat cross-legged on the worn planks, elbows resting on his knees. His curly black hair, with its striking purple and blue tips, caught the dim glow of the lantern swaying gently in the night breeze. The chilly air clung to his skin, brushing against the patterns of vitiligo on his hands. Despite the cold, Nikolian felt oddly at peace. Nights like this were rare, quiet moments away from the demands of the farm and Shane's company made them even rarer.
Shane sat beside him, legs stretched out, his shoulders hunched as he nursed a bottle of beer. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the water seemed to swallow the stars. The creak of the dock beneath them was the only sound for a long time, until Shane's rough voice broke the stillness.
"You ever think about what it’d be like to just… drift?" he said, gesturing vaguely toward the ocean with his bottle. "No plan, no place to be. Just... gone."
Nikolian paused. He was just about to take a sip of his drink.
"Dude, what? I think you've had too much beer."
"No, no. I'm serious."
Nikolian glanced at him. He'd learned that with Shane, drinking often brought out a person's true thoughts.
"I used to," Nikolian admitted. His voice was soft, almost swallowed by the sound of the waves. "Back in the city, before I came here. I worked as a delivery driver and a warehouse worker for Joja Corporation. Every day felt the same—soulless shifts, hauling boxes, endless deliveries—and no matter what I did, it felt like I wasn't going anywhere. Like I was sinking."
Shane turned to look at him, his expression unreadable. Nikolian continued, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the grain of the wood beneath him. "But then I read the letter that my Grandpa left to me, and... I don't know. The farm gave me something to hold on to. A reason to wake up, I guess."
Shane let out a dry chuckle, his gaze dropping to the bottle in his hands. "I get that. I mean, I've been working at JojaMart for years now, and it's... well, let's just say I know the feeling of sinking. It's like you're stuck in a loop, doing the same thing over and over, and it's never enough."
Nikolian turned to him, surprised by the candid admission. "Yeah," he said, nodding slowly. "It's like it sucks the life out of you."
Shane then paused, then glanced at Nikolian, his expression softening. "I'm sorry about your grandpa, by the way. Sounds like he was a good man, leaving you the farm and all."
"Thanks," Nikolian added after a moment. His voice was quiet, but sincere. "He was a good man. I just hope I'm doing right by him."
"You are." Shane sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But hey, at least you got out. Found something better. That takes guts, man."
"Must be nice," Shane muttered, taking a long drink from his bottle. "Having something like that."
Nikolian shrugged. "It's not always easy. There are days when I want to quit, when it feels like no matter how hard I work, it'll never be enough. But then I remember…" He paused, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'm not alone anymore. People like you—you've made it easier. Easier to know that things will be okay."
Shane's laugh was dry, tinged with disbelief. "Me? I'm not exactly what you'd call good company, farmer."
"Don’t sell yourself short," Nikolian said, his tone light but sincere. "You've been there for me more times than I can count."
A flicker of warmth crossed Shane's face, softening the hard lines etched by years of self-doubt.
They fell into a companionable silence, the kind that felt less like an absence of words and more like an understanding. The waves continued their quiet symphony, and the stars seemed to shine a little brighter. Nikolian leaned back on his hands, his eyes drifting up to the sky.
"You ever think about what's out there?" he asked, nodding toward the expanse above them. "Like, really think about it? How big it all is?"
Shane tilted his head, following Nikolian's gaze. "Sometimes. Mostly when I've had too much to drink or overstuffed myself with pepper poppers," he said with a faint grin. "It's... overwhelming, y'know? Thinking about how small we are in the grand scheme of things."
"Yeah," Nikolian agreed. "But it's kind of comforting too. Like, maybe our problems aren't as big as they feel. Maybe we're just... part of something bigger."
"Huh." Shane's voice was thoughtful, almost quiet. He glanced down at the bottle in his hands, rolling it between his fingers. "Never thought about it like that."
They sat in silence again, each lost in their own thoughts. After a while, Shane broke it with a question that caught Nikolian off guard.
"Do you ever wonder if you're... enough?" Shane's voice was raw, stripped of the bravado he usually wore like armor. "For the farm. For the people around you. For... yourself?"
Nikolian's throat tightened, but he didn’t shy away. "Yeah," he said softly. "All the time. But I think that's normal. I think it's part of being human." He looked at Shane, his gaze steady. "And I think you're more than enough, Shane. Even if you don't see it."
Shane's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes glistening in the lantern light. He didn't respond right away, but when he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Thanks, farmer."
"Anytime," Nikolian said with a small smile. He raised his bottle in a silent toast, and Shane clinked his against it, the sound echoing softly in the night.
For the first time in a long time, Nikolian allowed himself to finally break down the rest of the walls he's held up for so long. He hopes that Shane has done the same.