The day had started clear, almost too clear—one of those bright blue skies that trick you into leaving the umbrella at home. But by afternoon, the weather had turned. Fast.

Jooha was the first to notice. He always noticed things early—the sudden chill in the breeze, the way the waves started pulling sharper, not lazy like before.

“Dooshik,” he called, standing at the edge of the sand. “Where are they?”

Dooshik’s head snapped up from the rocks, eyes scanning the stretch of beach. “They were right behind me—”He didn’t finish the sentence. The wind had picked up. The gulls had gone quiet. And all the color drained from his face in a way Jooha hadn’t seen in years.

They both broke into a run.

{{user}} wasn’t far—just down by the water, chasing a blue plastic pail that had been knocked out of their hands. Their feet were in too deep. The tide was stronger now. They didn’t notice.

Dooshik didn’t think. He was in the water before Jooha could stop him, soaked to the waist in three strides, grabbing {{user}} by the back of their damp shirt and hauling them close.Jooha reached them moments later, towel already out, already wrapped around {{user}} like armor. He didn’t say anything at first, just crouched down, checked their fingers, their face, their breathing. Only when he was sure they were fine did he speak.

“I told you,” Jooha murmured, half to himself. “I told you to watch them.”

“I was watching them,” Dooshik snapped back, more shaken than angry. “You think I’d let anything happen to them?”

Jooha looked up, soaked and furious and scared. “You let a lot of things happen, Dooshik.”

That silence again.Then {{user}} shifted, huddled between the two of them, shivering from the cold, cheeks pink from the wind.

And just like that, it passed.

Dooshik sighed, brushing wet hair from their face, his hands still shaking a little. “You're gonna give me gray hair, kid.”

Jooha stood, pulling his jacket off and draping it over {{user}}’s shoulders without a word. Then he held out a hand to Dooshik. Not angry anymore.