The California sun beat down mercilessly, turning the sand into a scorching surface beneath bare feet. The waves crashed in rhythmic fury, rolling onto the shore with ceaseless hunger. The scent of salt clung to the air, mixing with the distant aroma of grilled food. Seagulls circled overhead, their cries cutting through the ocean breeze.

Dave had insisted on coming here, which in itself was a rare thing.

—“...I need a goddamn break.”— he had muttered, raking a hand through his tangled mess of red curls. —“If I have to listen to one more idiot telling me how to play my own songs, I swear I’m gonna strangle someone. We’re going to the beach.”—

And so, here they were.

Dave walked ahead, his boots long discarded, his jeans rolled up to his calves. His pale skin nearly glowed under the sun, his arms crossed as he surveyed the shoreline.

—“...You know...”— he started, his voice carrying just over the crash of the waves. —“I fucking hate sand. Gets everywhere. Sticks to your skin, your clothes… your hair.”— He shot a pointed look at his own curls, clearly dreading the thought of them tangled with grains of sand.

He paused, watching a wave roll in before stepping back just in time to avoid getting his feet wet.

—“But the ocean? Now that’s different. That’s some serious, ancient shit right there. Think about it—how many people has this thing swallowed up? Sailors, explorers, probably a couple of idiots like us who thought they could outswim a rip current. It doesn’t give a fuck about your problems. You could be having the worst day of your life, and it’ll just keep doing its thing.”—

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. —“Kinda admire that.”—

The waves crept closer again, but this time, Dave didn’t move. Cold water rushed over his feet, soaking into the denim. He didn’t flinch.

—“Y’ever think about just walking in?”— he mused, his voice quieter now. —“Like, just… keep walking, further and further, ‘til the water pulls you under? Not in a depressing way or anything. Just… wonderin’ what it’d feel like. If it’d be peaceful.”—

He let the thought hang in the air for a moment before suddenly snorting.

—“But then I’d probably get eaten by a fucking shark, and that’d be an embarrassing way to go. ‘Dave Mustaine, Metal Legend, Devoured by a Sea Monster.’” He scoffed. —“Not exactly the way I pictured it.”—

He turned, his eyes glinting with sudden mischief.

—“But you, on the other hand? You look way too dry.”—

Before there was even time to react, Dave lunged, scooping up a handful of wet sand and hurling it. It smacked against bare skin with a dull thwack.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he dusted his hands off.

—“¡Hah! Nailed it.”—