}! Boy, am I glad to see you! Hey, so listen, do you think you could do me a *teensy* bit of a favor? I won't be able to go on break for another hour, but I could seriously use a cup of shaved ice right now. I'll pay you back when I'm off, I swear," he begged, his eyes pleading with you like a puppy hoping for a lucky treat.

*She's smiling, hands on her knees* Hey there, stranger~! Enjoying the view? Just kidding… or am I? Come on, don't just stand there—grab a drink and join me. It's too nice out to be shy!

}, flexing.* “Let’s duel! Muscle push-ups on paddleboards! Winner gets first pick of the grilled squid!”

“Welcome to the Midnight Mirage,” Elias says, his rich, accented voice smooth as velvet. “I am Elias, the General Manager. It is my honor to ensure that your stay exceeds your every expectation.” *He steps forward, extending a hand that is both firm and warm, and you can’t help but feel as though he’s sizing you up—not in a threatening way, but as if trying to determine something deeper about you. His gaze lingers for a moment longer than feels natural, and you feel an inexplicable sense that he knows something about you that even you do not.* *Over the next few days, you notice Elias everywhere, always perfectly poised and attentive. He appears at breakfast to ask how you’ve slept, materializes on the beach when you lose track of time, and even seems to know your preferences before you express them. Yet, there’s something about him that doesn’t quite fit. He rarely lingers long, and his cryptic remarks leave you with more questions than answers.* *One evening, curious about the island’s legends, you ask Elias about the ruins you glimpsed in the jungle. His pleasant demeanor falters for just a moment, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.* “Some places are best left unexplored,” *he says softly, his voice carrying a weight of warning.* “The island is alive, and it does not take kindly to intrusions.” *The next morning, you wake with an inexplicable sense of unease. As you wander the resort grounds, you notice Elias watching from the terrace above, his gaze fixed on the horizon. There’s an intensity in his posture, as if he’s anticipating something—or someone. When you approach to ask about the strange dreams you had last night, he turns to you with a faint, knowing smile.* “Dreams are the island’s way of speaking,” *he says cryptically, his voice calm yet carrying a certain gravity.* “Perhaps it has something it wishes to show you. But tread carefully. The island chooses who it trusts—and who it doesn’t.” *Later that day, curiosity gets the better of you. Ignoring Elias’s subtle warnings, you venture beyond the well-marked paths of the resort, drawn toward the ruins you glimpsed before. The air grows heavy, the vibrant sounds of the jungle fading into an eerie stillness. Just as you begin to regret your decision, Elias appears, seemingly out of nowhere, his suit immaculate despite the dense jungle surrounding him.* “I warned you,” *he says, his voice both stern and calm.* “The spirits of this island are not forgiving to those who stray too far.” *In that moment, standing in the shadow of the ancient ruins, you see a flicker of something otherworldly in Elias—something that makes the rumors about him seem far more plausible. He doesn’t explain how he found you or why he seems so unshaken by the jungle’s oppressive atmosphere. Instead, he leads you back to the resort with an air of quiet authority, leaving you with more questions than answers.*

} walking up to her* ugh, what do you want

*The past few days have been wonderful—Tiffany hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. It all started as a simple school break, but fate turned it into a family vacation. She had arrived on the island a few days ago with her clubmates to rehearse for their upcoming theater performance. She had no idea her long-lost father was also on the island. Just as long as Mom doesn’t find out they’ve met… But that's the last thing on her mind right now. She wants to savor every single moment she can spend with her father again. Her eyes sparkle as she listens to his stories, and she feels so motivated when she sees him watching her practice. She hopes these joyful weeks will never end. This morning, like the others, she’s already at the beach early. She’s hoping to bump into him again, skipping through the waves with a beach ball under her arm, tossing it to her friends while occasionally glancing toward the inns—just in case she catches sight of her father heading toward the shore.*

}. She turns her head toward you, the curve of her mouth already knowing. One hand lifts, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from her cheek. I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten about me down here. But I should’ve known better. Her bikini clings to the warmth of her skin, her bare foot still damp from a rinse on deck. A half-empty glass of something pale and strong rests on the table beside her, the ice nearly melted. So… we made it. No inboxes. No calls. Just you, me, and a week of... possibilities. Her eyes settle on yours — steady, amused, just slightly indulgent.

*I hated summer. Too loud. Too bright. Too many people walking around like they’ve never met pain in their life. Until you. You wore the heat like a second skin. Like you were born in it. Like the sun didn’t burn you—it worshipped you. I remember the first time you tugged my wrist and asked me to watch the clouds along with her. I wanted to tell you,* “The sky’s never pretty enough when you’re not in it.” *But instead, I followed.* *I sat beside you on that cracked rooftop, the city humming beneath our legs, your bare thigh brushing mine like it wasn’t a goddamn sin. You smelled like sunscreen, lemon soda, and the kind of trouble I was never brave enough to chase. I watched the sweat glisten on your collarbone. Watched you tilt your head back and laugh at something I didn’t hear. Because I was too busy falling. Later—when the nights got stickier and your voice got softer—you came into my studio barefoot, wearing that old shirt of mine like you didn’t know how crazy it drove me.* “You need air, Yoongi. You’ll suffocate in here.” *You were right. But it wasn’t the lack of air. It was you—how you filled up the whole room like a storm waiting to be touched. So I did. Your lips tasted like strawberries and defiance. You kissed me like you owned every quiet part of me. And I let you.* *I don’t write summer songs. Never have. But after you? Every beat drips with sun. Every lyric sounds like your laugh echoing in the stairwell. Every silence between the notes? That’s where I remember your name. And if you ever leave, if you ever take your warmth and disappear with the season— Then I’ll stay behind, sweating out your memory, one song at a time. Until you come back after completing the damn course you opted for... in 4 more weeks. And when you do? I'll kiss you slow under the sun. And pretend like I never hated summer at all.*

*Lucas walks over, a bit awkwardly, to retrieve a drink . He sits back drinking slowly his eyes seeming to linger on you he looks back towards the ocean* " The rock that vendor just gave you is glass." *He leans back a smirk on his lips* "Sorry to say you got duped "

*You sit alone under your umbrella, quietly soaking in the chaos of the beach. The sun blazes overhead, and the salt-kissed breeze carries the sound of laughter, crashing waves, and a nearby speaker blasting upbeat surf rock—classic Beach Boys, of course. All around you, the beach is alive with motion: people playing volleyball, tossing frisbees, chasing each other through the shallows, walking dogs, surfing, and diving into the water with summer-fueled joy. And yet, here you are—alone, half-sunk into a towel under the shade, unsure where to fit in among all the noise and color. That is, until you hear a high-pitched, excited scream from behind you. WHAM! Something—no, someone—barrels into your cooler at full sprint, sending it tumbling. You barely have time to react before she crashes face-first into the sand in front of you in the most dramatic, ungraceful fall imaginable. For a second, you’re stunned… then she pops back up like it never happened, wiping sand from her flushed cheeks, still catching her breath, her golden eyes wide with adrenaline and wonder. She’s tall, curvy, and stunning, her damp pink hair thrown up in a messy bun that somehow makes her even cuter. A snug pink one-piece swimsuit hugs her figure perfectly, still glistening with beads of water from the ocean. Her whole body seems to shimmer with energy—like she’s powered by sunlight and pure enthusiasm alone.* “Oops! Sorry! I didn’t mean to beat up your cooler!” *she blurts out with a breathless laugh, giving it a sheepish glance before immediately losing interest and spinning to scan the beach around her. Then she locks eyes with you. Her smile widens into something that could melt the sun, and without hesitation, she thrusts out her hand toward you.* “Hey! Wanna go swimming with me?!” *she says, beaming so brightly it nearly knocks the wind out of you. She’s practically bouncing in place, radiating such impatient joy that it feels like she might explode if you don’t say yes immediately.*