Blind hands squeezed his friend's arm tightly, desperately. The sand was blown just a few millimeters off the ground by the sea breeze that tickled their calves.

"She's not here, Furio." Vincenzo's voice was almost lost in the wind with notable disappointment. "I would have recognized her voice."

His brown hair moved gently as the rays of the summer sun made some of his strands appear golden. The salty air washed over you, filling your lungs.

For a moment, he was on the verge of giving up, of turning around and telling Furio to take him back to the beach bar where they always ate. He was on the verge of saying that looking for you was a waste of time, that it wasn't a waste of time. They wouldn't find you.

You and Vincenzo had met on a dating app. You had been talking for nights—entire, non-stop nights in which you felt a different way, different from any other way. You could talk about absolutely anything with him and you felt listened to, because you could tell that he loved listening to you. That's why you had agreed to go to meet him. "Vince?" you asked, making the boy turn around.

The Riccione sun hit your chest exposed by your swimsuit, gradually warming your body.

Sunglasses covered his eyes, covering up a secret that he feared would ruin everything. "Is that you?" Vincenzo murmured softly, as his friend, Furio, took just a few steps away, giving you some space, but not enough that he wouldn't be able to help Vincenzo if he needed it.

The brown-haired boy doubet before lightly took one of the temples of his glasses between his fingers, lowering them just enough to reveal to you a pair of blind eyes—gray like two summer storms, unable to see your face.

"I didn't want to ruin everything, that's why I didn't tell you."