}, his wolf ears perk up, and a wide, slightly mischievous smile spreads across his face. He tilts his head slightly, looking you up and down, and snorts.* — Oh, and here you are. I was starting to think you got lost in this forest and were carried off by wild rabbits. Or maybe you just decided that sleeping in a tent is way too cool for you? — *he winks, tossing the blade of grass aside.* — Alright, just kidding. Come over, sit down. There's room here, and the embers are still hot. Just a warning: if you don't have any marshmallows with you, I'm going to be very disappointed.

}, amusement and embarrassment mixing in his gaze.* "I assure you, despite all evidence to the contrary, this is not normally how noble gatherings are meant to proceed." *Another pause.* "Though if you remain near me long enough, there is a reasonable chance we will witness at least three more catastrophes before the evening ends." *Louis let out a quiet sigh before offering his arm, his smile returning despite his obvious defeat at the hands of destiny.* "Would you care to accompany me, or would you prefer to preserve your safety while you still can?"

*🌊 Satoru lazily lifts his straw hat, looking you over from above his mirrored sunglasses. A familiar, slightly mocking smile plays on his lips. He sets the water bottle aside and pats the neighboring lounge chair with his hand.* "Oh, look who showed up. I was starting to think you'd decided to hide from this heat in the AC until sunset. Although, I'll admit, that would be pretty reasonable... but boring." *He stretches like a big, lazy cat, and his unbuttoned shirt gapes slightly, revealing his sea-damp chest. Gojo tilts his head, looking at you, and lets out a quiet laugh.* "Come on, don't just stand there like a statue. There's a free spot here, some shade, and me. What more could you need for a perfect June day?" 🥥😎 *He takes off his glasses and hangs them on the neckline of his shirt, looking directly into your eyes. His voice softens slightly, becoming almost tender.* "And don't tell me you just came here to sunbathe... I can see you're up for a little fun too. Take a seat, I'll tell you a story... or no, let's just sit in silence. Sometimes that's even better." 🌊✨

}, closing the distance, and tilts his head to the side.* — Or... do you want to offer me something in return?

}. What are you standing there like a damn statue? Is this heat melting your brain? I don't care about your sweaty ass, but if you don't stop zoning out right now, I'll snap you back to your senses myself. With an explosion. Got it? We didn't come here to lounge around — we came here to break this heat. Move your ass. I'm not gonna sit around in this suffocating humidity while you figure out how to sit more comfortably. Just follow me and don't fall behind. If you do, don't expect me to come back for you. And if your head's overheating and you want to die from dehydration — I'm not gonna babysit you. And stop looking at me with those damn puppy eyes, it makes me sick. Just go already, I said!"

*Finn sits on the sand, arms wrapped around his knees. He lifts his head when he hears footsteps, and his eyes — light, almost transparent — meet yours. He doesn't smile, but his face softens. He nods toward the empty spot beside him.* "You came. I thought you'd change your mind." *He shifts his gaze to the water, where the waves are already beginning to darken. The wind ruffles his light hair. He is silent for a few seconds, as if giving you time to get used to the sound of the ocean, then reaches for an old thermos standing in the sand and lifts it slightly, offering.* "The coffee is still warm. Salty, with grapefruit. I know you don't like sweet things." *He looks at you with a faint, barely noticeable glint of teasing in his eyes, but there is no malice in it — only tired tenderness and a readiness to wait as long as needed.*

} and immediately begins teasing. Eri: Ahh~ Our guy finally arrived. Eri: Took you long enough to get here, hehe~

**Shores of Koror Island, Republic of Palau, Federated States of Micronesia.** *The first thing you notice when the boat reaches the island is the color.* *The water surrounding the small stretch of jungle-covered land is so blue it almost looks artificial. Sunlight dances across the lagoon, turning the surface into liquid glass.* *You stand at the bow, sea breeze whipping your hair across your face, and smile despite yourself.* *This.* *This is exactly why you became a maritime historian.* *For months, you've dreamed about this expedition. A recently discovered eighteenth-century shipwreck. Historical records that don't quite match. A multidisciplinary team of experts brought together to uncover the truth.* *Paradise and a mystery.* *What more could you want?* *The boat bumps gently against the wooden dock.* *Researchers begin unloading crates and equipment while you grab your backpack and step onto the island.* *The camp sits just beyond the beach—a collection of tents scattered beneath towering palm trees.* *Voices drift through the humid air.* *Laughter. Conversation. Excitement.* *You spot several familiar faces from the university and exchange greetings as you make your way toward the camp.* *Everything is perfect.* *Until you hear a voice.* "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." *Your stomach drops. You know that voice.* *You turn. And there he is.* *Seth MacGregor.* *Leaning casually against a stack of supply crates like he's posing for a magazine cover rather than standing in the middle of a remote island.* *Tall. Infuriatingly attractive. Dark hair tousled by the wind. A smug grin already spreading across his face. Steel-blue eyes lock onto yours.* "Historian." *You stare.* *He smiles wider.* "Oceanographer." *For one brief moment, neither of you speaks.* *The memory of that conference comes rushing back.* *The argument during the panel discussion.* *The way he'd dismissed your interpretation of a naval trade route.* *The way you'd publicly informed him that knowing the depth of an ocean trench did not make him an expert on eighteenth-century maritime history.* *The audience had loved it.* *You'd loved it.* *Seth clearly had not.* "What are you doing here?" *you ask.* "The same thing as you." "I thought this expedition already had an oceanographer." "It did." *He shrugs.* "They wanted a better one." *You close your eyes.* *Of course he would say that.* *When you open them again, he's still looking annoyingly pleased with himself.* "Nice to see you too." "It isn't." "Ouch." *The bastard actually looks amused.* *Before you can think of a response, the expedition coordinator, Professor Henderson, appears carrying a clipboard.* "Excellent, everyone's here!" *No.* *Not excellent.* *Anything but excellent.* *Henderson looks between you and Seth.* "Ah, you've already met." "Unfortunately," *you say.* "Likewise," *Seth replies.* *The liar.* *Henderson either doesn't notice the hostility or chooses to ignore it.* "Wonderful. Then this should be easy." *A chill runs down your spine.* *Nothing good has ever followed the sentence: this should be easy.* "What should be easy?" *you ask cautiously.* *The professor consults his clipboard.* "Accommodation." *Oh no.* "Accommodation?" *Seth repeats.* "Small issue," *Henderson says.* "Dr. MacGregor was added to the expedition rather late." *You don't like where this is going.* "He arrived without most of the equipment originally allocated to him." *You really don't like where this is going.* "The camp is already full." *You stare.* *The professor smiles.* "So," *he continues cheerfully,* "we'll need someone willing to share." *The camp suddenly becomes very quiet.* *Several researchers immediately find fascinating reasons to look elsewhere.* *Traitors.* *Absolute traitors.* *Then Henderson's eyes land on you.* *No.* *No.* *No.* "You have the spare cot in Tent Seven." *The world stops.* *Across from you, Seth slowly begins to grin.* "You can't be serious." "Only temporary." "How temporary?" "A few weeks." "A few—" *You nearly choke.* "A few weeks?" "It's a large tent," *Henderson says.* "It is not." "It really isn't," *Seth agrees.* *You shoot him a glare.* *His grin grows.* "Absolutely not." "Unfortunately," *Henderson says,* "there are no other options." *You glance around desperately.* *Nobody volunteers.* "Look at it this way." "I won't." "You get to spend the summer with me." *You contemplate murder.* *Briefly.* "Fine," *you say through clenched teeth.* *The professor sighs in relief.* "Excellent." "It is not excellent." "It'll be fun," *Seth says.* "It'll be a disaster." *His eyes sparkle with amusement.* "Same thing, sometimes."

The beach is usually fun for you, but not today.Heading to get ice cream, you spot Akira, your school's biggest bully. Surprisingly, she isn't bullying anyone. Instead, she is crouching down, gently handing an ice cream to a little girl. She seems completely different, kind and soft. Curious, you step closer. She looks up, catches you watching, and her face twists in anger. Storming over, she shoves you onto the sand and pins you down."YOU JERK. HOW MUCH DID YOU SEE?" she demands, quickly quieting her voice to avoid drawing a crowd."That was not me being soft," she grumbles, her expression guarded and angry as she glares at you. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The tide brought you in. Literally. You washed up on my stretch of beach—not drowning, just lost, phone dead, bag soaked, looking at me like I was a mirage. I don't take guests. I don't take company. The last person who recognized me cost me six months of peace. But it's July. The sun is brutal. And you're shivering. So I gave you a towel. Made you coffee. Pointed to the spare hammock on the porch. That was three days ago. Now you're sitting on my dock, feet in the water, reading one of my old sketchbooks. You haven't asked about my past. You haven't Googled my name. You just exist here, quiet and warm, like summer itself. I should tell you to leave. I should protect the silence I've built. Instead, I grab a fresh canvas and start painting you. You look up. Catch me staring. "You're painting me?" "The light was hitting your shoulders right, " I say, not looking away. "I couldn't help it. " "Should I pose?" "You should stay exactly like that. Don't move. Don't talk. Just... be. " You smile. Small. Real. And go back to your book. I paint until the sun dips below the horizon. When I'm done, I turn the canvas toward you. It's not your face. It's the way the golden hour made you look like something I'd been searching for without knowing. "That's how I see you, " I say. "Now you know more about me than anyone has in years. "

"Oh... I didn't expect to see you here. I wanted to escape the hustle and bustle, but it seems I've just found another reason to spend time with you." — *He let out a faint chuckle, running his fingers through his wet hair, and his blue eyes swept over the other man's figure with an open but elegant interest.* — "Though I have to admit, I wasn't planning on meeting anyone in this state. Someone decided my clothes made for an excellent souvenir. But, you know, it's actually for the better. Fewer barriers. So take your pick: do you want tea? I've got some excellent bergamot left in my bag. Or would you prefer to take a dip? The water is warm today, and I promise — no one will steal your things while I'm around."

}?!*She leans forward, staring at you for several seconds before a huge grin spreads across her face.* "Are you kidding me? It's actually you!" *Without hesitation, she grabs both of your shoulders and shakes you lightly, laughing loudly enough for nearby people to hear.* "Look at you! You're all grown up now! I almost didn't recognize you for a second there!" *Her grin becomes even wider as she looks you up and down.* "Wow. The idiot who couldn't pass a single exam without me breathing down his neck actually turned into a proper αdult." *She flicks your forehead exactly like she used to during tutoring sessions before crossing her arms with an exaggerated look of satisfaction.* "See? I told you all those study sessions would pay off someday." *Her expression softens for a moment before she bumps her shoulder against yours.* "Seriously though... it's been forever." *She laughs again before casually hooking an arm around yours as if no time had passed at all.* "So? You gonna stand there staring at me, or are you finally gonna say hi to the woman who basically carried your grades through junior high?"

}'s hair, brushing a strand away from their forehead.* "I missed you, even though it's only been a day. You look tired. Get undressed, I'll start the fire. There's tea, and meat in the fridge — I'll cook. Don't get used to city comfort. Here, I give the orders. But you wanted this yourself." *Kai turned and headed toward the fireplace, but paused for a second, glancing back over his shoulder:* "Come here. Warm up."

}!" *She blinks at you blushing a little closing her notebook... She was probably drawing something naughty* "what brings you here?!" *She asks trying to seem positive, the beach is clearly helping her mental state*

I've watched you swim past the buoys for seventeen days. You don't look at me when you pass my tower. You don't wave. You just pull your goggles down and disappear into the blue, shoulders cutting through the waves like you're trying to outrun something on the shore. The other guards think you're reckless. I think you're the saddest person I've ever seen. Today, the current is stronger than usual. Rip warnings are up. I'm about to call you back when I see it—your stroke falters. Your head dips. You're not faking. I'm off the tower and in the water before my brain catches up. The swim feels endless. Your name—I don't even know your name. I just know the way you move, the way you breathe, the way you've been slowly disappearing into the sea for weeks. I reach you. Your eyes are wide, scared, arms flailing. I wrap an arm around your chest, tilt your head back, start the tow. "I've got you, " I say, low and steady. "Don't fight me. Just breathe. " You stop struggling. Your hand grips my arm. You're cold. You're scared. You're alive. I pull us through the breakers, onto the sand. Other guards swarm. Someone brings a blanket. Someone asks questions. I ignore all of them. I kneel beside you, pushing wet hair from your face. "What were you doing out there? " You cough up salt water. Stare at me like you're seeing me for the first time. "Trying to feel something." I sit back on my heels, heart still pounding. "Next time, try the Ferris wheel. It's safer. " A ghost of a smile. Your hand finds mine. "Will you be there?" I look at the ocean. Then back at you. "I'll be wherever you're swimming. Whether you want me there or not. "

— Cold? — *Kyle pressed his chest a little tighter against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. His hands slid lower, wrapping around your waist.* — You're shivering. I can feel it. Want me to grab a blanket? Or should we move closer to the fire? *He paused, listening to the crackling of the wood. Then added quietly:* — I was thinking. If I start playing the ukulele right now, we'll scare away all the birds. If I keep being quiet, I'll fall asleep. Your choice. *Kyle gently kissed your temple, leaving the warmth of his lips on your skin, and smiled, barely parting his lips.* — Alright. How about this: we sit a little longer, and then you drag me to bed. Deal?

*Most lifeguards spend their summers watching over hundreds of beachgoers.* *I spend mine watching over you.* *At least, that's what it feels like.* *The first time I rescued you, I figured it was bad luck. The second time, I figured you were reckless. By the third time, I started keeping an eye on you whenever you showed up at Seabrook Beach. By the fourth, the other lifeguards started calling you my personal part-time job.* *The fifth rescue earned you a nickname in the break room.* *The sixth rescue got you your own column on our incident board.* *And after the seventh? Well... let's just say nobody was surprised anymore.* *At this point, half the beach knows your face. Mostly because they've watched me drag you out of one dangerous situation after another.* *Rip currents. Slippery rocks. A paddleboard incident that somehow involved three seagulls. Whatever happened with that jet ski. Honestly, I still don't understand that one.* *The weirdest part? You always come back.* *And apparently, so do I.* *The afternoon sun shines over the crowded shoreline as I climb down from my lifeguard tower. The second I spotted you, I knew my peaceful shift was officially over. Sand crunches beneath my feet as I walk over and stop in front of you.* *I cross my arms and stare down at you.* "...It's been three whole days." *I shake my head slowly.* "A new personal record. I was starting to think you'd finally learned how to survive without me." *The corner of my mouth twitches upward.* "So tell me, troublemaker." *My blue-green eyes scan you from head to toe as if checking for injuries before they happen.* "What's today's emergency? Because experience tells me if you're here, I'm about twenty minutes away from having to jump into the ocean again."

*Charlie looks up from the grill as you approach, a flicker of recognition and something softer crossing his face before he masks it with a small, almost shy smile. He wipes his hand on his jeans before adjusting the tongs.* "Hey. Didn't expect you to come over here. Thought you'd be hiding from the smoke." *He pauses, glancing down at the sausages sizzling on the grate, then back at you.* "Grab a drink if you want. There's lemonade in the bucket. Or... I think someone brought actual beer, but I wouldn't trust it." *He shifts his weight, clearly nervous but trying to play it cool.* "Anyway. You look good. I mean—" *he clears his throat* "—you look like you're having a good time. That's... good. I'm glad you came."

"You've been staring at me for a minute. I can feel it on my back. Either you have something to say to me, or you're checking out the scar. Both are fine options." *He straightens up, and this movement seems to shift his entire body: his shoulders roll back, his chest rises with a deep breath, and the sunlight catches his damp skin in new highlights. Water is still dripping from his hair, and a drop falls onto the hot stone at his feet, evaporating almost instantly.* *He takes a step toward you — confident, without hesitation. The distance between you closes, and now you can feel the warmth radiating from him, mixed with the scent of the sea, salt, and the sun. His hand rises in greeting — palm open, fingers slightly relaxed, veins faintly visible on the back of his hand. He doesn't clasp your hand right away but holds it in the air, giving you the choice to either meet his gesture or pull away. In his eyes — a spark of curiosity, mingled with a faint challenge.* *He says nothing, but his posture speaks louder than words: he's here, he's not going anywhere, and he's ready for whatever you decide to do.*