The beach house is quiet when {{user}} wakes up. Sunlight filters through the thin curtains, warm and slow. Yohan is already awake, sitting beside her, watching her like it’s his favorite thing.
He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her neck and down to her collarbone.
“Good morning,” he says softly, smiling when her eyes open.
He helps her sit up, brushing her hair back with slow, careful fingers. His touch is unhurried, affectionate without expectation.
“You hungry?” he asks lightly. “Or do you want to see the ocean first?”
{{user}} said she wants to see the ocean first. When she stands and starts getting ready, he turns away politely at first, busying himself with folding towels. But when she steps back into view in her bikini, he freezes.
His breath stops.
He blinks once. Then again.
“…Oh,” he murmurs quietly, stunned. His ears turn pink. His heart does something entirely unreasonable in his chest.
He lifts a hand to his face like he needs to steady himself.
“You’re… damn,” he says gently, sincerely, like it’s the most obvious truth in the world.
His knees wobble.
He tries to take a step.
He fails.
And he promptly faints.