Work Text:
Waves lapped at the golden shore, a soft breeze rustling the grass on rolling dunes. Seabirds squawked above him, a group of small plovers running just before the surf, to and fro with the tide. In the corner of his eye, a faraway light blinked rhythmically, just visible in the late daylight. Alone on an empty beach with the sand warming his back, Aventurine could almost believe this was a vacation.
Ding.
Ding.
Dingdingding rang his phone notifications. Again. Suppressing a groan, he blindly reached for and fumbled the device into his grasp, wiping the sand from its screen. What was it this time?
The blinding sun glared the glass black. Maximising the screen’s brightness didn’t help much, but a second hand shielding it granted him just enough visibility to see ‘IPC chat #42’ at the top of his notifications. He pinched the bridge of his nose, stifling a headache.
The HR Department had rolled out a new system for lower ranked employees’ salaries and, of course, everything went wrong. In a few months, when the waves subsided and a scapegoat has been found and fired to save face, there’ll no doubt be some new faces to meet when he gets back to Pier Point. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. Not that he remembered every cog in the oh-so-well-oiled machine that was the IPC, though he made sure to recognise at least the few workers on his team that dared to stick around. You never know when they might prove useful. But this matter was even below their immediate concern.
He pressed down on the group’s icon and muted it indefinitely. Not his business. Not today. He had more important things to attend to. Aventurine of Stratagems did not concern himself with such triviality until one way or the other, it inevitably ended up on his plate.
Despite having secret orders in hand, he still held other obligations. Today had originally been a full program. At least, until the photographer lost their way and ended up arriving four hours later with a flat tire, earning them an earful from the Interastral Peace Entertainment’s suit overseeing the photoshoot.
From the little he’d overheard, he was glad he hadn’t been at the receiving end of that phone call. Even Sugilite didn’t speak to him like that. Too bad, the screaming match hadn’t helped, and both employees lost their jobs. IPC Entertainment will simply send for replacements later. It is what it is. After many a profound apology for wasting his time he’d been set free for the remainder of the day. The media crew had gone, leaving the still-reserved beach empty for the next few hours. A fantastic opportunity to catch some sun.
Sighing and draping an arm over his eyes, he tossed his phone aside. It softly thudded back into the sand. He was used to smiling for the camera, hands messing with his hair, accessories and clothes to maximise his visual appeal, posing him like a product, and then later seeing an uncannily distorted version of himself on billboards, but deep down he much preferred a quieter alternative. Now, it was just him, the beach, and—
A loud splash followed by a girlish scream shot him upright.
By the surf stood a group of very familiar people. A gray-haired person wildly splashed water at an exceptionally pink-wearing girl, who giggled and dashed behind a more unassuming older man for cover. Behind them trailed someone who’d clearly become the beast of burden, carrying a plethora of bags and even dragging a surfboard behind him.
The Astral Express had arrived on Astropolis.
They hadn’t noticed him yet. Quickly, Aventurine slid his sunglasses onto his face. Dan Heng stuck the surfboard in the sand and began unpacking while the others lingered by the water. Chairs, towels, and some smaller items he couldn’t make out soon populated the sand. Eventually, Welt joined him to aid in setting up parasols while March 7th chased a hysterical Trailblazer with a piece of floppy seaweed.
Amusement tugged at his lips. They must be here to catch a break after Planarcadia. Somehow, wherever they went, world-changing events always followed. Ironically they’ve arrived just in time for Astropolis’s impending showdown.
Now, however, remained a moment of respite. Time for some teambuilding and networking, if they’d have him. Surely they will. His knees popped as he got up, pulling his surfboard—still in prime position for the now long gone camera—out of the sand and intending to march over to the shore. The sand scorched his feet.
But something strange stopped him in his tracks. Welt wandered a little further away from where the rest of the group had set up camp and placed a device where dune vegetation framed the beach, in a palm tree’s shade. It unfolded into what Aventurine recognised as a Space Anchor, lighting up a muted, cool blue. He strategically moved out of Welt’s line of sight.
Shortly after, the Space Anchor sparkled and two individuals appeared. One was obviously Himeko, her flaming red hair swaying in the salty breeze, but the other…
His jaw dropped.
Grey hair, awfully overdressed for the occasion, a rigid posture, two small wings sprouting behind his ears and towering above it all a golden halo, glinting in the sun’s rays as if the spotlight was its destiny.
Beside Himeko stood none other than Sunday…
…holding a picnic basket.
-
Sunday clenched his hand around the basket’s woven handle, fighting a wave of nausea. The warping sensation of a Space Anchor never failed to catch him off guard, not too different from how he imagined a tourist’s first entering of the Sweet Dream would.
The breeze was fresh, sending a chill down his spine. He dearly missed the comfort of his long coat. But alas, appropriate beach attire was a must. And he’d even tested that requirement’s flexibility. Sorry, Astral Express, but he would not be wearing shorts.
“Everything alright?” asked Himeko, placing a kind hand on his shoulder.
“Yes, thank you. This remains… a novel sensation.”
“Take it easy. The feeling can be a bit unnerving, but I’m certain you’ll get used to it.” She smiled, walking beside him towards the crisscrossed mess of parasols and towels.
Dan Heng sat in the shade, reading a book of which no doubt the spine was now permanently bent by his peculiar hold on it. Sunday joined him and passed the basket into Welt’s waiting hands, who then diligently began unboxing. Sandwiches, crackers, candy, fruit… enough to feed an army.
The Trailblazer and March 7th suddenly stormed towards them, trading splashing water for drifting sand. His heart dropped when the Trailblazer rapidly approached and crashed against one of the parasols, toppling face-first into the sand. They didn’t get up.
“Are you alright?” Sunday hovered a hand above their wet shoulder, the scorching sun warm on his bare skin.
Today he’d opted not to wear gloves. If any sand had gotten into them his mood would’ve soured instantly. Best to face the inevitable head-on, but if his hand got wet now the gritty texture would stick in-between his fingers for the rest of the day. He shivered at the thought.
“‘M fine,” came the muffled answer, “just had to wallow in misery for a sec.” The Trailblazer pushed themselves up and wiped their sandy hands on March 7th.
“Ew, ew, ew, stop!” March squealed, “why is it always me?!”
“Because if I wipe my hands on Dan Heng he’ll get mad.”
“Correct,” Dan Heng said, absentmindedly reaching for some seaweed crisps they’d stocked up on while still on Planarcadia.
“Go back to sea to wash it off then!”
“But it’s sooo far.”
They bickered back and forth until Welt, in a stroke of genius, held out two sandwiches. Sunday watched mortified as the Trailblazer stuffed their mouth full without thinking.
“I like it. Very crunchy.”
“Please tell me you’re not eating the sand,” Dan Heng pleaded, finally looking up from his book to see just that.
Despite the Trailblazer’s questionable diet, after a while, a much-needed calm washed over Sunday. Idle chatter and waves lapping at the shore provided just enough background noise for his mind to go comfortably blank. Behind him, palm trees rustled in the wind.
Before he’d followed Himeko through the Space Anchor, a part of him had dreaded this trip. He’d imagined careless strangers at every corner, loud festivities, sand and worst of all, the potential of prying eyes. Though, he supposed, with how Planarcadia’s media had treated them, he would be able to handle it. Thankfully the beach was positively empty. He had nothing to worry about, except maybe the sand. Leaning back into the folding chair Dan Heng had pulled out from another bag, he exhaled slowly.
The water carried March 7th’s laughter far and wide as she pushed the Trailblazer off their shared surfboard with a loud splash. Welt and Himeko got up and padded over to the shore, keeping an eye on the more rambunctious two.
Maybe this wasn’t so bad, after all.
A crinkling beside his head prompted him to look. Dan Heng held out a small bag of crisps, the same he’d been eating.
“You’ll like them.”
Sunday graciously accepted the offer, muttering a thanks. A smile tugged at his lips when Dan Heng sat back down right next to his beach towel, into the sand, too engrossed in his reading.
“Guys,” yelled the Trailblazer from the water, waving their hands high. “Come join us!”
“The water’s nice,” March 7th added.
Sunday briefly shared a look of understanding with Dan Heng, then continued struggling with the bag of crisps.
“Maybe later.” Dan Heng waved at the surf.
“What? We can’t hear you~”
“Later.”
The bag finally relented. Inside, dark squares of dried seaweed stared back at him.
A rustle of wet fabric and frilly sandals ploughing through sand and suddenly, the Trailblazer and March 7th stood before them, grabbed ahold of Dan Heng together, hoisted him to his feet and all but dragged him towards the water. Halfway there, Dan Heng threw up his hands and surrendered, the Trailblazer turning around to face Sunday. ‘You’re next,’ they mouthed, pointing a finger towards him. Eyes wide, he swallowed dryly watching Dan Heng succumb to fate.
His book had escaped the abduction, falling, thankfully onto a towel and not the sand. Sunday picked it up, careful not to ruffle the pages more than they already had been. Hopefully it was still on the same one. Turns out Dan Heng’s way of holding books rendered bookmarks useless, the book holding its shape. He diligently placed it back on the towel.
Dan Heng had been right about the crisps. The thin salty layers had a slight chewiness to them which was certainly a new taste, but a very agreeable one. Sunday watched the three struggle over the surfboard, ignoring the sense of impending doom that came with knowing he’ll have to join, eventually.
Water wasn’t his thing. He and Robin had never really swam or visited beaches as children, and certainly not as adults. Dream bubbles were all they knew. All he knew, he supposed. Robin, having spread her wings young, must be far more familiar with things like this. She’d have joined the others in the waves, he was certain. Perhaps he should—
“Friends! It’s being a while.”
Ice spread through his veins when a familiar, honeyed voice assaulted his ears. Something thudded into the sand behind him. A pale surfboard, and to it clung none other than Aventurine of Stratagems. He waved at the crew before looking down at Sunday.
“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Aventurine grinned, turquoise sunglasses glinting in the sun. He was practically shirtless. A very normal thing to be on a resort planet, Sunday had to remind himself.
“Not joining the fun?” Aventurine nodded towards the crew.
“Someone has to watch over the Express’s possessions.” Sunday tore his eyes away from his bare chest, meeting his gaze and ensuring it stayed there.
“What if I told you this stretch of beach has been reserved by yours truly?” He pulled down his sunglasses a little, granting Sunday a glimpse at determined violet. “So no need to worry.”
“Then, I’d ask if we were welcome here.” Sunday forced a smile.
“What’s mine is yours, friend.”
Aventurine studied Sunday’s faultless mask for a moment before pushing the sunglasses back up with a hum.
“Well, enough standing around. I’m catching some waves. You coming?”
“I appreciate the offer, but…”
“Too scared of getting your feathers wet?” Aventurine pulled his surfboard from the sand and grinned.
He looked well. Better than after he’d sauntered out Dewlight Pavilion with a countdown above his head. The Preservation’s power must’ve shielded him from the worst of it, including the Emanator’s slash, otherwise he wouldn’t have been standing here all chipper. Sunday’s eyes traced the collar of his open shirt. Lighter teal suited him very well. Though, the coloured streak in his hair almost felt a little childish.
“I simply prefer to stay out of the elements.”
“Ha, of course. Should’ve known that flightless birds can’t swim, either.”
Sunday clenched his jaw. He certainly hadn’t grown less annoying since their last meeting.
“Well then, good luck with that.” Aventurine gave him a mock salute and strode towards the surf, waving at the rest of the crew. Sunday frowned when he saw even the Trailblazer’s joyful expression waver for a moment. Aventurine spoke to Himeko and Welt, appearing remarkably docile.
Soon after, he took to the waves just like he’d said, sitting and waiting. A moment of mutual observance and several waves later, the Trailblazer and March 7th joined him. He seemed to be explaining surfing techniques, gesturing and yelling terms completely alien to Sunday. What was he getting at? Surely there had to be an ulterior motive for his presence. Astropolis was the IPC’s turf, after all.
Sunday got up and walked towards the newly formed group with Aventurine at the center.
Raising a hand against the glaring sun, he squinted to take a closer look. He couldn’t describe the waves as anything but big and tropically blue, but they must’ve been good for surfing as March 7th prepared to catch a wave, attempting to rid the board of the Trailblazer.
“Look who’s here.” Aventurine sat cross legged on his surfboard, flashing a smile.
“Sunday! This is so fun, you just have to try it!” called March 7th. The Trailblazer stood up on their temporarily shared board to wave, rocking it and earning a shriek from March who clamped herself to them. Dan Heng swam over to steady the board.
“Um- only if you want to, of course,” March 7th added quickly before frantically shaking the Trailblazer. “Warn me next time, will you?! Now get off, it’s my turn!”
“I don’t have appropriate swimwear with me.” A lousy excuse. In fact, he had made sure he hadn’t. No matter how contagious the crew’s shared laughter felt in the moment, he was more than content to stay behind as an observer. Truly, he was.
“Then strip.”
The gulls suddenly squawked loudly, or perhaps it was the Trailblazer’s guffawing. They quickly slammed their hands over their mouth. Heat rose to Sunday’s face, eyebrows furrowed at Aventurine’s provocative smirk, a gleam in his violet eyes.
May the next wave carry him off to never return.
“Sunday, you could lend some. I took extra,” Dan Heng, ever the voice of reason, kindly contributed. Somehow it didn’t put his heart at ease.
“Ah, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.” Sunday stepped back from the surf. “Enjoy, I was just checking on you all. I’ll get back to the shade.”
“Alright!” March 7th finally shoved the Trailblazer off their surfboard before they could voice a nagging ‘awww’. They trashed about until Aventurine lended a hand, pulling them onto his surfboard.
When the parasol’s cool shade washed over him, Sunday sighed. Plopping onto a towel, he drew his knees close to his chest. The sun was too warm, the shade just slightly too cold, and despite taking utmost care to stay away from it, grains of sand itched on every inch of his skin. He unsuccessfully wiped his hands of the sensation.
Unfamiliar but hearty laughter drew his attention back to the water. The Trailblazer wiggled their eyebrows at a smiling Aventurine before being swept off his surfboard by a wave. The ever lowering sun’s glint on the water obscured his vision, and Sunday couldn’t quite make out what was said before Aventurine turned around to face the next wave. Maybe he had imagined it.
Aventurine paddled further away from the crew, scouting for, presumably, a suitable wave. Suddenly spinning his surfboard around, he caught the start of one and allowed it to carry him with it. It swelled in height, taller and taller until water began tumbling down, curling around him. Sunday couldn’t tear his eyes away when Aventurine stood up in practiced ease and zipped out of the barrel just in time before it crescendoed.
He paid the Trailblazer’s encouraging whoops no mind, violet eyes laser-focused on the waves. Sigonia-IV was a desert planet, yet he was no doubt in his element here. He cut through the waves with magnetic resolve, and Sunday found himself mesmerised. Each wave he found was steeper than the previous, his speed faster, and with each increasingly difficult trick he performed Sunday held his breath, eyes glued to his extravagant performance.
But, beyond the flashy surface, most striking of all was his unbridled enjoyment. Eyes crinkled in a smile, he now drifted in-between the lull of waves, shoulders relaxed. A stark difference from the overdressed peacock Sunday had encountered back on Penacony. Although, he was certainly still showing off. No doubt about that when he caught a grin shot towards him.
Suddenly, an electronic beep sounded to his right. Sunday whipped his head around, then frowned. When had all these people arrived? A moderate amount of tourists were setting up camp, just like the crew had previously, and a few already trekked towards the surf. Further away, someone in an IPC uniform fussed around with an orange barrier of alternating triangles. They pressed a button with a beep and the triangles dissipated.
No longer a private beach, then. Apparently, Aventurine had lied about reserving it. Who would’ve thought. He turned his attention back to the water, gold meeting violet squinted in a mischievous smile. Maybe it had been made public on purpose. His feathers puffed up on instinct.
“Hey,” yelled Aventurine, waving at him and drawing the attention of several other beachgoers. “Hey!”
Sunday’s hands tingled. He pointed at himself and raised an eyebrow at the ridiculous sight. The gazes of strangers burned on his back.
“Yes, you.” A wave was beginning to form behind him, and his smile blinded Sunday more than the sun’s reflection on the water. He swallowed dryly, at his mercy.
“This one’s for you, babe!” Aventurine grinned and pointed, directing all curious onlookers’ attention towards Sunday. Xipe above. He dug his nails into his palm, carefully maintaining an impartial expression against prying eyes. After paddling with the wave, building up speed, Aventurine stood up on his board and winked. A few more heads turned towards hunched shoulders and flattening feathers.
Aventurine did what he’d been doing for the past hour, expertly gliding through the water. He weaved his board up and down the wave’s shoulder, showing off and gaining momentum. The strangers that had stopped to stare kept quiet. Sunday held his breath with them.
Swept up by the wave, he pushed his board airborne, just like he’d done before. Only this time, he completely missed the landing, ragdolling into the water with a loud splash while his board flew on without him.
Imbecile.
Laughter burst from the crowd behind Sunday and any potential amusement was instantly wiped from his face. In the water, the Trailblazer cackled hysterically, pushing a giggling March 7th from her board, and he could see even Dan Heng suppressing a snort. Welt awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, Himeko chuckling beside him. Sunday’s blood ran cold.
He was never living this down.
Aventurine’s board plopped back down without him, leisurely drifting with the waves. The last chortling beachgoer wiped the tears from their eyes before moving on, not without the occasional snicker.
Other than that the waves remained undisturbed. Strange. He should’ve come back up by now, laughing it off and somehow turning the blame on Sunday. Scanning the waves for a head of blond hair proved unfruitful. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, the air salty on his tongue, and began counting seconds.
1, 2, 3…
The Trailblazer and March 7th playfully fought over their shared board. Again. He made a mental note that if he stuck around for any future beach trips, even if he doubted he’d join after this experience, he’d make sure they took at least two surfboards.
25, 26, 27…
Welt attempted to swim some competitive laps against Dan Heng, who was besting him with ease.
43, 44, 45…
Himeko peacefully floated in the water a little further away, acting oblivious to the chaotic splashing of March 7th and the Trailblazer. In her hands she held a comically large water gun.
60.
A minute but still no Aventurine. No one seemed to be looking for him, either. For an experienced surfer to disappear beneath the waves like that… He must be doing it on purpose. Despite that thought, a chill ran down his spine. Sand stuck to clammy palms when he pushed himself up and briskly jogged towards the surf.
Early evening tinged the sky a dusty pink, the sun still bright just above the horizon and painting the waves golden. The ocean lapped at the firmer, moist sand beneath his feet. Sunday squatted to put his hands in the surprisingly lukewarm water, ridding them of most of the sand and looking over at the rest of the crew. They hadn’t noticed him yet.
He paced along the shoreline, eyes glued to the waves. If this was a joke, it wasn’t funny. The crew hadn’t even felt his absence. Or were they in on it? The Trailblazer, perhaps, but the rest? He doesn’t recall them being thatfriendly with the Stoneheart. Worrying his brow, he misjudging an approaching wave that thoroughly drenched his sneakers. He grimaced, then returned his attention to Aventurine’s lone surfboard, glinting in the sun.
Filled with unexpected determination, he kicked his shoes off, removed his socks and quickly cuffed his pants as high as he could before wading into the water. Only when he stood there, knee-deep with no further plan and semi-soaked trouser legs, did he realise how stupid acting on impulse had been.
Cold dread settled in his stomach. His eyes darted across the water’s surface, still searching. Maybe he should call out? In the distance, March 7th waved at him from her board. He halfheartedly waved back.
Suddenly, a dripping arm was slung around his shoulder with a laugh. Sunday froze.
“Look who’s finally here.” Aventurine pulled him closer, pressing his cold wet body against his side. Much too friendly of a gesture for Sunday’s liking.
“Aw, come on. Don’t look at me like that. Surely you didn’t actually believe I’d drowned.”
Sunday sighed. Part of him might’ve preferred it if he had.
“No matter, your friends will be glad to see you. Come,” Aventurine said, guiding Sunday deeper into the water with a smile.
He tried squirming from Aventurine’s grasp but the arm around him remained firm. His vision swam when the water reached his midriff. Cold, wet, with Aventurine’s arm soaking his shoulders, Sunday stopped in his tracks, turning to stare at piercing violet.
“Did they put you up to this?”
Aventurine barked a laugh. Looking at the horizon, his amusement settled into a cunning smirk.
“Getting you out here? Yeah.” His hold around his shoulders tightened. A few wet locks stuck to his forehead, his sunglasses pinning back his bangs. Teal really suited him. Sunday’s feathers bristled.
“This one’s all me, though.”
He could barely turn to look before a towering wave crashed over them. For a second, everything was deep blue. Inhaling a mouthful of water, the salt stung his throat. He squinted his eyes shut until the sun warmed his skin again. Sunday sputtered a cough, gasping a breath and clinging onto Aventurine like a lifeline, who had begun shaking with laughter even before the wave had fully passed.
Wet fabric weighed down his shoulders as the reminder of the wave partially dripped back into the sea. He had just regained his footing when he was pulled to where the waves were calmer. Clenching onto fistfuls of Aventurine’s shirt, a hypothetical plan for murder unfolding in the back of his mind, his soaked bangs were pushed from his vision. He frowned.
A smile and sharp eyes looked down on him, clearly relishing his discomfort. Sunday clenched his jaw.
He’ll pay for this.
Something thudded against his hip. A certain surfboard, carried over by the waves. Aventurine reached past him, sloshing the water around, pulling him along again, his palm slapping onto the board’s deck.
Apparently Aventurine remained dead-set on publicly embarrassing him, because his hands soon flew to his sides. Heart in his throat, he grabbed at and dug his nails into Aventurine’s forearms when he was manhandled onto the board. He took a deep breath, starting to feel lightheaded. Seriously? He could’ve easily climbed on himself.
The waves lapped at his bare calves as they hung over the edge. Still waist-deep in the water, Aventurine pried himself from his thorny grasp and placed his hands on either side of Sunday's knees, steadying the board but effectively caging him to it. They shared a look.
“Was that necessary?” Sunday said, tone carefully flatlined.
“Seems only fair, right? I end up in an ocean, and so do you,” Aventurine smiled, violet eyes gleaming in the sunlight. “I’d call that equivalent exchange.”
A wave rocked them but Aventurine simply moved with it, gripping onto the board and continuing. “Don’t pretend you weren’t itching to get in here with them, I saw you watching.”
“You were showing off.”
“I had an audience to entertain.” He grinned.
The breeze picked up, cold against his wet skin. Aventurine stepped towards him, and Sunday instinctively leaned back, planting his hands on the slick resin surface behind him. Sunday’s knees brushed against him.
“I was unaware you could surf,” Sunday diverted, looking down at soaked hair and seeing his own disheveled appearance reflected in turquoise sunglasses.
“…Quite skilfully.”
Blond eyebrows raised in amusement.
“Care to give it a try? You’re already halfway there.” Aventurine nodded towards the board.
“No,” Sunday said, “but you should continue where you left off.”
Violet eyes squinted in a smile. “Beneath the waves? Great idea, I’ll drag you down with m—“
“Sunday! Is everything alright? That wave was huge,” piped March 7th, paddling over. Behind her followed the Trailblazer, holding onto her board, chuckling awkwardly when they met Aventurine’s gaze.
“I’d like to get back to shore.”
“So soon?” Aventurine chimed. Sunday fixed him an unblinking glare, almost believing he’d won their little stare-down when violet eyes looked past him, flicking towards steadily approaching splashing. He shivered when a wet hand was placed on his shoulder.
“Let’s go back, then.” Welt. Sunday’s shoulders dropped with a sigh. Xipe, bless his soul. He’ll take any excuse to leave.
Aventurine locked eyes with the older man, still wearing a sly smile, and slowly backed away from Sunday, granting him an opening to hop off the board. Welt’s hand slid from his shoulder and was quickly replaced by Aventurine’s, helping him back into the water, touch lingering for a moment too long. The water was warmer than he remembered, its surface rippling in the breeze.
As he and Welt stumbled through the waves back to solid ground, March 7th following suit, the heat of violet eyes burned on his back.
-
Well, that was surprisingly fun. Too bad they’d gotten interrupted…
Sunday retreated after his orchestrated defeat, Welt and March 7th—his guardian angels—by his side. Aventurine swiftly climbed back onto his board and watched them as they trod from the water onto the sand. The breeze caught Sunday’s loose button-up and he hunched his shoulders, pulling his arms around himself in a shiver. Welt quickly came to his rescue with a dry towel.
Unamused brown eyes observed him from the shore. Aventurine waved. To push the buttons of someone as composed as Sunday was always tempting, but especially the man himself, after their clash on Penacony… The Astral Express held his respect, of course, but this game had simply been too enticing not to give his all. It even conveniently came with a scapegoat.
Speak of the devil, the Trailblazer suddenly hurled onto his surfboard like a seal, skin squeaking over resin as they slid off the deck, back into the sea. If he hadn’t clamped himself to the board in time, he would’ve followed. They laughed at their own misfortune.
“Seems I just keep doing you favours.” Aventurine offered them a hand.
“He left, though. I’m not sure that counts.” The trailblazer held on to his board, brows furrowed in thought.
“Should’ve been more specific, then. He was in the water.” Aventurine smiled, continuing. “You owe me one.”
“Ahh, I do, don’t I…“
“Again.”
“Okay fine, you win.” They looked over at the gathering crowd on the shore, raising a hand to rub at the back of their neck. Dan Heng was just getting out of the water, followed by Himeko.
“Should I go check on him? I’m checking on him. Bye-bye!”
“Send my regards.”
His board rocked in the ripples of the Trailblazer's departure. March 7th ruffled Sunday’s hair with a blue-pink towel while Dan Heng was rummaging in a nearby bag, miraculously pulling out spare clothes. They’d really come prepared. Sunday lethargically took the towel from March, assuring her he was well, but that didn’t keep her from fussing. Welt found another towel and passed it to Himeko who turned to the shivering Halovian, wrapping him up.
The magnificent Sunday Oak as a passenger aboard the Astral Express… Aventurine had noticed the media’s commotion during their time on Planarcadia, of course, but after all that had happened in Penacony… Well, he would've loved to be a fly on that reconciliation’s wall. With how wary the Express remained of him, despite both he and Sunday being previous enemies, the Halovian must’ve thoroughly repented to be doted on like this. Like he belonged.
Suddenly, victory tasted bitter-sweet.
From the shore, huddled beneath mountains of towels, gold eyes seethed at him. Aventurine’s mouth pulled back into a grin.
The ocean was empty now, save from some faraway tourists and a little while later the younger members of the Express—minus Sunday—who had returned with a beach ball. Quiet waves lapped at his board. Aventurine allowed himself to lean and fall back, shoulders meeting the deck in a thud, the surfboard cool against his back.
Vibrant, orange-y pink stretched out above him and the sun gently warmed his skin, no longer as scorching. Waves rhythmically crashed in the distance and an occasional gleeful yelp after a beach ball’s impact stirred the calm from becoming dull. Strangely comforting exhaustion ached in his muscles. The board felt solid under him, easily controlled if he so wished.
Soon he’d have to return to the shore. Duty called, as always, and Astropolis was up for a big stir in due time. But currently, this present moment held nothing but him, his surfboard and the waves. And a new scene fondly etched into memory of an utterly mortified Sunday right before the wave had hit. A snicker escaped him. Smiling, he closed his eyes. He’d settle the actual score another time.
The waves carried him wherever they wanted, something he was more than content with. Drifting away from the beach ball’s thuds, the light breeze soothing, he put his arms behind his head and just laid still.
Losing track of time turned out to be incredibly easy. Suppressing a shiver, he frowned. Had the breeze always been this cold? The sun’s warmth had certainly gone, too. Did he doze off?
On reflex, he reached for his sunglasses only to find them still on his head. He opened his blurry eyes to a silhouette blocking the light. Squinting and blinking, he pushed himself up to get a better look.
Only to suddenly topple over, surfboard and all.
The cold sunk it’s claws into him, the water’s temperature shocking after lying in the sun for a while. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. Unintentionally taking in a big gulp of seawater, he quickly pushed up and broke the surface, wildly shaking his head to rid the water from his ears. The salt burned in his throat as he gasped and wheezed a cough, whipping his head up at his assailant.
Looming over him stood none other than Sunday, dressed in a distinctly Xianzhou-patterned swimshirt—obviously a size too big for him—and shorts that really weren’t his colour, halo gleaming in the low sunlight. His hair had returned to orderly again, just a little moist, and he appeared much less shaken. A smug smile played on his lips, pupils gleaming that eerie blue. Aventurine’s breath caught in his throat.
In the distance, a small, rapidly approaching item caught his attention. Only when it hit and pierced itself on Sunday’s halo could Aventurine identify it as the Astral Express’s beach ball. It quickly deflated like a balloon and flew away. The smirk was instantly wiped from Sunday’s face.
He looked ridiculous.
Near the shore, the Trailblazer stood with their hands in their hair, an equally guilt-stricken March behind them. Dan Heng pinched the bridge of his nose.
Aventurine barked a laugh. He scrambled to get up but lost his footing, slipping on a piece of seaweed, then locked eyes with Sunday again after a defeated sigh. He reached his hand towards the Halovian. That golden gaze flicked across his face, hesitating.
“Don’t be so stingy. Help a guy up?”
Sunday slowly reached out but hovered just out of reach. Smart. Aventurine shot him a pleading look, making sure to appear extra pathetic. With luck on his side, playing the sympathy card might work. After a pause, the other man sighed, relenting, his soft hand grabbing ahold of Aventurine's.
Such a bleeding heart...
Fear struck mesmerising gold when Aventurine latched on to his wrist. Sunday tugged against his grasp, shoulders rigid. Quickly enlisting his other hand into the battle and pulling with all of his might, Aventurine grinned when the struggle tipped in his favour. Sunday stumbled, falling over with a splash, pulled down into the waves with him.
Water dripped from soaked feathers. Wet hair hid his deep frown, clothes utterly drenched once more. Sunday gasped and huffed a breath. Stroking his bangs from his face, he glared at him. A far cry from a true seabird. Aventurine couldn't stop laughter from bubbling up his throat.
This might not be a vacation, but it was certainly starting to feel like one.