You always show up a little late to S. Not enough to make an entrance, not enough to get noticed—but just enough to make Miya look up. Just enough to make him hope you’ll be there. You lean against the rails, your board tucked under one arm, headphones around your neck like you don’t belong to anyone. Maybe that’s what draws him in—the way you always seem like you’re somewhere else, as if your thoughts are drifting just out of reach.

He doesn’t really understand it. It creeps in like the tide—soft at first, harmless—but then it’s everywhere.

He wants to love you the way he loves skating—fiercely, naturally, without needing to explain why. He wants to fall into you the way he falls into turns, trusting the curve of it, even when it feels reckless. But it’s not that easy, is it? People don’t talk about boys loving boys like this—not in a way that matters. Not in a way that makes Miya feel like it’s okay to say it out loud.

So he stays quiet. He pretends not to care when you laugh at someone else’s joke or when your hand accidentally brushes against his and you don’t even notice. He’s always been good at hiding things, at skating with his guard up. But it’s harder when it’s you.

Sometimes, he catches himself imagining what it would be like if he could just say it. If he could say, “I think about you when it rains” or “I think your voice is better than my favorite song.” But that feels stupid. You’d probably laugh, and he would hate himself for saying anything at all.

There’s a cave inside him, a quiet place where he keeps all the things he’ll never say. You live there now, without even trying. He thinks about how you’d fit into his world and how you’d sound saying his name when no one else is around. He imagines holding your hand—not in front of anyone, not even at S. Just… holding it. Just knowing it’s okay to.

But he’s scared. Scared of ruining everything. Scared you’ll turn away. Scared that maybe you’ll never feel the same way, and all of this—everything—will wash away like sand slipping through his fingers.