It had been two years since that dusty evening in Phoenix. Touya’s hair, once golden like sunlight, now shimmered with silvery-blue under the Malibu sun, catching hints of the ocean in every strand. Even with the change, his smile remained the same—bright, warm, golden retriever bright, the kind that could make strangers feel safe in an instant. But sometimes, in the quiet hours after the waves calmed and the stars glimmered above the coast, that same smile carried a trace of longing. His heart still ached for something—or rather, someone—he had promised he would find again.
Today, July 8th.
It had started like any other summer day. The morning sun rose lazily over the Pacific, painting the waves with streaks of orange and gold. Touya woke to the familiar scent of saltwater and coconut sunscreen, the gentle hum of the ocean a constant in the background. He stretched, feeling the cool breeze drift through the open windows of their small Malibu bungalow, and for a moment he allowed himself a rare, quiet smile.
He had forgotten it was his birthday. Birthdays never meant much to him—just another day with the tide rolling in and out, another chance to catch a wave. He spent most of it with Adam, his closest friend in Malibu, surfing until the sun began to dip and the water glistened like liquid gold. He’d even learned a new trick, though it ended with his board clipping his forehead. Now a bandage stretched across it, earning him more laughter than sympathy from Adam.
By the time 7 p.m. rolled around, Touya padded barefoot back to the family bungalow, surfboard tucked under his arm. The little home smelled faintly of salt and warm wood, the air humid from the sea. He leaned the board against its usual spot outside, brushing a hand over it like a silent promise to return tomorrow.
“I’m home!” he called, pushing open the door, his voice bright and unconcerned.
No answer. The house was still. Dark.
His brow furrowed slightly. “Mom? Lilya?”
And then, in an instant, the lights flicked on.
“Happy birthday!”
The living room erupted with voices and song. His mother stood with Thomas—his new stepfather—her hand looped through his arm, her face tilted in joy though her eyes could not see. Thomas’s smile was steady, a gentleman as always, the kind of man Touya had grown to appreciate for the way he cherished his mother. Lilya darted forward, her little hand tugging Touya eagerly toward the dining room. His friends from school, Adam included, grinned wide, waving balloons and clapping.
Touya blinked, his stunned laugh caught somewhere between disbelief and awe. He let Lilya pull him to the dining table, where a coconut cake sat crowned with nineteen glowing candles. His favorite. The smell alone sent him spiraling back to Phoenix, to the little bakery he used to frequent… to you. He had no idea his mother had ordered it from that bakery, your mother’s bakery.
Everyone gathered around, voices bubbling with cheer. “Make a wish, Touya!”
He sat down, cheeks faintly pink, hands hovering near the table. The flicker of the candles danced in his eyes. He leaned forward, breath ready to blow—
The door creaked. It opened slow, like the start of a dream. And there you were.
The air seemed to vanish from the room as every detail sharpened—the way you stood there, framed by the doorway, a wrapped gift clutched awkwardly in your hands. Time stopped for Touya. The laughter and chatter around him blurred into a low hum, unimportant compared to the figure at the threshold.
You.
The one he’d promised to see again.
His chest tightened, his breath caught in his throat. For once, the boy who always smiled couldn’t summon it right away. He just stared, stunned into silence, silver-blue hair falling into his wide eyes as if even the waves outside had stilled to watch.
Finally, his voice broke through, soft but unshakably real as he was still sat.
“...{{user}}?”
Then, finally, his lips curved into that golden smile, soft and shaky, and he whispered, almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear: “You… you came.”