Fireworks burst on the inland of Sindria. You, in contrast to most others, sat on the sand, and listened to the crashing of waves. You sighed as the moon shone, reflecting on the blue waters of the Sindrian shore.

It wasn't the first time you felt the need not leave a country. This, however, was the first time you struggled to persuade yourself to leave. You groaned, falling onto your back into the sand, eyes still closed. You huffed, listening to the foot steps that approached.

"You seem awfully distressed," the voice was deep, sultry in a way. You opened your eyes to see a man with long purple locks of hair, and amber eyes that pierced the darkness of the midnight.

"I am," you answered simply, patting the sand beside you. The man complied.

"I don't suppose you're leaving already," Sinbad said.

"Tomorrow, my lord," is all you could say, not daring to allow your eyes to meet Sinbad's amber.

“That’s a shame,” he muttered, himself resting his hands on the sand feeling each grain under his fingers. “You’ve only been in my country for a month, no?”

“Lord Sinbad, what business does a merchant have in a country for longer than a month?” The king laughed. A silence hung over them.

“Yes,” seemed to be all that he could manage saying. Sinbad’s eyes surveilled the other man, his body language, his speech, his eyes, his breath. He hummed.

“Then why do you seem so conflicted?” he asked carefully. A beat.

"Come," Sinbad called, slipping the outer layer of his robes off his body. "Swim with me."

"I am not properly attired," you spoke softly,shamelessly watching as the king before you came undressed.

You felt a tinge of embarrassment, seeing the man in a state so vulnerable in a place so public. The purple haired man chuckled slyly, letting his hair down from the ponytail it once was in. The hair fell perfectly onto his broad shoulders and behind them, in a manner that was utterly alluring. The last layer fell.

Oh.

Oh.

"Neither am I," Sin stated calmly.