Work Text:
Roblox had to look up at Builderman as he stood on the low-hanging branch of a sea grape tree, the beachside breeze causing the leaves to billow around him, shifting the setting sun’s light and making it ripple around him like a halo. He looked down at Roblox, where he sat on a stone that was half-buried in the sand, skirt dragging on the ground, the bottom of the fabric grey with moisture. They had both discarded their shoes, several feet away, letting their feet feel the sand and waves as they walked down the beach.
Right now, they were sixteen years old, and all they had was each other, so they, on a whim, decided to run through the long strip of beach closest to HQ, because who would tell them no? They were all but gods of this world, at least in their minds, teenage gods, who really wanted to watch the sunset, and climb trees, and eat ice cream, and do it all… together.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ·｡
There was a dock that they had passed by a few thirty minutes or so ago, nothing but a cone-shaped building selling ice cream on the road, and Builderman had turned to Roblox, tugging the sleeve of his blouse:
“We should see if they’re open.” He had remarked, bouncing on his toes like his boots were going to walk off without him. Roblox smiled, laughing out an agreement before running off before him.
“They’ll give it to us for free if we ask nicely!” He called back; it was true, they would, because would you make the architects of your world pay for something as small as ice cream, when they were the ones who created it in the first place, when they were the ones who built your shop by hand? “Race ya!”
“Oi—not fair! You started ahead of me!”
Roblox just laughed back at him, already halfway to the small building, but he paused, raising his hand up to shield his eyes from the blinding rays of the sun, before turning back.
“It’s openn~!” He sang, “What flavor do we want, Buildsy?”
“Do they have Bloxxerman? Or butter pecan…” Builderman trailed off, letting his pace slow to a casual stride as he thought.
“You don’t wanna try my flavor this time?” Roblox turned to Builderman, standing at the counter with a smirk on his face.
“We are not gettin’ that.” Builderman responded, finally reaching the counter as well, “It’s literally every flavor mixed together, and it's… grey.”
“Don’t be a spoil sport!” Roblox teased before turning to order.
“The ones that exist are already good! We don’t need to ruin them by mixing all the flavors together.” Builderman crossed his arms in solidarity, but the smile never left his face.
Roblox just laughed, handing Builderman his cone—a double-scoop Bloxxerman and butter pecan on a waffle cone—and taking his own—Roblox-flavor grey sludge, also on a waffle cone—from the worker. Despite his earlier comment about now having to pay, Roblox gave the worker payment and a generous tip as well, just with whatever he had on him at the moment, which ended up being almost double the original price, but it didn’t bother him; the people of Robloxia needed money more than he did.
There was a single picnic table near the shop; the umbrella through the built-in hole in the center of the table was already closed and tied shut. Roblox and Builderman sat across from each other, Roblox kicking Builderman’s knees every few minutes to see if he would react—he didn’t for a few minutes, but after both of them were down to the cone with no chance of dropping their scoops, he started kicking Roblox in the shins as well, gently, because his boots would hurt way more than the sandals that Roblox was wearing.
“We should go back on the beach after this,” Roblox said, mouth full of grey.
“Okay.” Builderman responded, taking a bite of his waffle cone, “Let’s leave our shoes here, though.”
Roblox took off his sandals and kicked them at Builderman.
“Shoes are off,” Roblox said, grinning.
Builderman tried to keep a straight face, his colorful Bloxxerman-flavored ice cream dripping down the hole he bit into the cone and towards his hand. When he felt the first drops of the cold liquid gather on his hand, his expression faltered, a giggle forcing itself up his throat.
“Sandals are easy to take off, not fair!” Builderman said through giggles before raising his cone to his mouth and biting down on the cone, holding it so he could untie his boots.
The pair finished their cones, mouths stained the color of their ice creams, and all but skipped back down the pier, leaving their shoes under the picnic table because they knew that no one would touch them until they were ready to head back.
The sand was still warm, but cooler now that the sun was setting, warm enough to just be warm and not burn their feet, and the pair stood there for a second, listening to the ocean and smelling the salty breeze, feeling the sand between their toes. The wind blew Roblox’s hair around, and his face morphed into a grimace, just a small one, as he gathered up his hair and held it in a faux ponytail.
“I’m gonna shave my head if this hair keeps blowin’ around,” Roblox complained. Builderman looked at him like he had just threatened to drown a baby in the ocean.
“Never say anythin’ like that ever again.” Builderman grabbed Roblox by the shoulders. Roblox laughed as Builderman shook him back and forth, letting his hair fall back down and get even more knotted up with the movement.
“Okayy, I won’t, I won't! Stop shakin’ me!” Roblox laughed, batting at Builderman’s forearms.
Builderman stopped, and Roblox rested his hands on each of Builderman’s forearms. They looked at each other for a while—a short, comfortable while—before Builderman, in one clean movement, shifted his hands down to Roblox’s waist and hoisted him half-over his shoulder. Roblox squeaked and wrapped himself around Builderman, his arms around Builderman’s neck, and his knees squeezing Builderman’s waist. He was content to just be picked up until Builderman started moving towards the ocean; he started flailing, simultaneously trying to get put down—so he wouldn’t get thrown in the ocean—and hold on tighter—so Builderman would fall with him.
Builderman waded down until the seawater licked halfway up his calves, soaking his pants, letting Roblox settle so he looked less like a cat trying to avoid the bath and more like a Robloxian. He rested his cheek on Builderman’s shoulder, gazing to the west where the sun was setting over the horizon, staining the ocean orange like a field of marigolds.
Their hearts slowed back to a calm, resting pace, beating on slow little thumps, thumping as if trying to beat out of their chests, as if trying to reunite.
Roblox exhaled, deep and long, relaxing into Builderman like water seeping into soil, like a hermit receding into its shell, like coming home. So Roblox ignored that his skirt had fallen low enough for the hem to get wet, and he ignored the droplets that splashed up at them from the waves.
“We’re gonna get soaked,” Roblox muttered into Builderman’s neck.
“That's okay, it’s not like we have anywhere to be…” Builderman responded, adjusting his grip on Roblox as he began to wade back towards the shore, “We’ll just find some place to sit and air dry. That sound like a good idea?"
“A wonderful idea…”