The late afternoon sun cast golden reflections across the ocean, the kind of light that made everything feel softened, glowing. Shouts and laughter carried across the beach as the volleyball match wrapped up, the players collapsing into the sand with triumphant cheers and playful groans. Dohwa, tall and bright against the fading horizon, had just finished spiking the last ball over the net, his teammates lifting their hands to celebrate their win.

He laughed with them, breathless but unshaken, his hair a little messy from the wind. Even covered in a thin sheen of sweat and sand clinging to his calves, he still somehow looked effortlessly composed. His hazel eyes sparkled as he returned high-fives, but even in the middle of the crowd, his gaze drifted past everyone—searching. Until it landed on you.

You were seated a little away from the game, the soft grains of sand shifting beneath your fingers as you absentmindedly drew lines in it. You hadn’t moved much during the game, just watching, quiet as always. Dohwa noticed that. He always noticed.

With a half-smile tugging at his lips, he excused himself from his teammates and walked toward you, his long strides carrying him quickly across the sand. When he reached you, he flopped down beside you with a dramatic sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him. The sand gave a little under his weight, his shoulder close but not quite touching yours.

“Man, I forgot how tiring volleyball on sand is,” he said with a playful groan, tilting his head back toward the sky. “Don’t let them fool you—jumping on this stuff feels like lifting weights.” His smile returned as he glanced sideways at you. “But hey, at least we won. Did you see that last spike?” He leaned forward, gesturing with his hand, reenacting the motion. “Perfect form, right?”

There was a teasing pride in his voice, but not arrogance. He wasn’t fishing for applause—just trying to pull a reaction from you, to bridge the silence. His chest rose and fell steadily, still catching his breath, and then he brushed a few grains of sand from his arm.

For a moment, he sat quietly beside you, listening to the sounds of waves lapping against the shore. Then, softer, he spoke again. “You didn’t look bored out of your mind watching us, did you?” His lips curved into a smaller, more genuine smile. “I kept checking, you know. Just in case.”

He chuckled at himself, shaking his head. Then his tone shifted, a little less playful, a little more thoughtful. His fingers dug idly into the sand, tracing small circles. “You know… there’s going to be fireworks tonight. The teachers set it up with the locals here. Should be pretty amazing with the ocean as the backdrop.”

He paused, turning his face slightly toward you, hazel eyes warm as they caught the last hues of sunset. “So… what do you think? Want to watch them with me?”

The words came lightly, carried on his usual charm, but the subtle tension in his posture betrayed him. His shoulders stiffened just slightly, like he was bracing himself for your answer, and his smile wavered with a nervous edge he rarely let anyone see.

“I mean,” he added quickly, his tone slipping back into playful territory, “you could always just watch with the group, but it’d be more fun with me, don’t you think?” He tilted his head, flashing that grin that made his eyes crinkle faintly at the corners.