The salty breeze curled through Anthony’s curls as he leaned back in the lounge chair, sunglasses on, towel still wrapped around his waist. {{user}} handed him a cold bottle of water and flopped beside him in the sand, arm brushing his.

“You look like you just discovered peace,” {{user}} teased.

Anthony cracked one eye open and smirked. “I have discovered peace. His name is Gulf Shores, and he’s got a wicked tan.”

{{user}} chuckled, nudging his shoulder. “You haven’t stopped moving for months. I thought I’d have to chain you to a beach chair to get you to rest.”

“You kinda did.” Anthony reached over and laced their fingers together, their hands resting in the hot sand. “But it’s good. I didn’t realize how bad I needed this. Just… time. With you.”

“Me and the ocean.” {{user}} smiled.

Anthony turned his head to look at him, the sea wind tugging at the loose strands of his hair. “Mostly you.”

It was one of those lazy afternoons where the sky stayed that perfect soft blue, and all they did was exist—walk the shore, nap under the umbrella, steal little kisses between jokes about tourist sunscreen and seagulls with vendettas. For once, there was no script, no call time, no expectations.

Later, as the sun dropped low and gold spilled over the waves, Anthony stood barefoot in the water, jeans rolled up, shirt loose and unbuttoned.

{{user}} joined him, letting their shoulders bump again, always gently tethered. “You think you’ll be able to go back to work after this?”

Anthony grinned, wrapping his arm around {{user}}’s waist and pulling him close. “Eventually. But right now, all I need is this. You, this water, this moment.”