Giulio didn’t say a word when {{user}} told him she was going to the beach. He just showed up an hour later—quiet as always—wearing black swim trunks, a short-sleeved button-up, and sunglasses that didn’t hide how awkward he felt. The ocean breeze ruffled his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy scanning the horizon like it was another mission.

“You’re...really not used to this, huh,” {{user}} teased, setting down her towel on the sand. Her voice was playful, but her eyes softened when she saw him awkwardly trying to avoid stepping on seashells with his bare feet.

Giulio shrugged one shoulder, gaze still steady behind those sunglasses. “Too exposed. Too loud. Too bright.”

Still, he sat beside her. Not touching, just close enough that their shadows overlapped on the sand. Not clingy like most couples do. A few moments passed. Then he held something out to her—a small bottle of sunscreen, his expression unreadable.

“You burn easily. Turn around.”

He said it flatly, like it was a tactical order. But his fingers were careful when he applied it. Gentle. Like always. Like he thought she might shatter if he wasn’t.

Later, when she tugged at his hand to come closer to the waves, he hesitated. His jaw tightened slightly as he looked at the water rolling in and out across the sand—sunlight dancing on the surface.

“I can’t,” he said quietly. Not annoyed. Just... firm. Matter-of-fact. “Salt water ruins my prosthetics .”

He didn’t offer more than that, but his shoulders were tense like he was expecting her to insist. Like maybe people had tried before.

But {{user}} didn’t push. She just nodded, stepping away from the foam and returning to his side. He didn’t thank her, but his expression softened.

A quiet moment passed.

“You still can go,” he murmured, glancing at her through dark lashes. “I’ll watch your stuff.” And her. He didn’t say that part. But she knew.