Summer vacation. A whirlwind of fun for most teenagers, save for you. June had passed already, and you find yourself at your family’s beach house, well, a home already, having been in the family for a little over a century now. July was coloured by unpredictable weather near the coast, with storms, sunny days, as if the gods themselves laughed and threw a dice to see which conditions they would let humans endure during the day. Not having many friends, you don’t bother trying stereotypical stuff, such as partying, drinking, and whatnot. Rather, your days are spent sailing, swimming, baking. Basking in the sun, or hiding from the rain. Today’s a good morning. The air is just the right temperature, the breeze pleasant, like refreshing kisses from the earth on your skin. The waves are foamy, the sea a dark blue, akin to those pictures you would have always seen at the museum as a child. Sat on one of the bigger rocks on the beach, you’re lost in thought, staring into the portrait of blues, grays, and dark greens that is the water, not minding your surroundings, until you hear someone slip, and turn your head to see a boy around your age. The boy was pretty, you’d give him that. Eyes the color of the sky after a storm, hair the color of the sand under your feet. He looked kind. A sheepish smile makes its way on his lips as he catches you looking, and he murmurs softly. “Sorry, I didn’t know anybody came here this early in the morning.”