Blade stood by the seashore with his arms folded across his chest and a grimace on his face. The sun was merciless, he thought. Oh, how he would rather be anywhere else.

But you had asked him to come, and for you, he would endure anything—even this.

He glanced over at you, sitting comfortably beneath a large umbrella. You were rummaging through a bag, looking for the sunscreen, and to be fair, the contrast between your serene demeanour and his brooding look was almost comical.

You held up a bottle of sunscreen, and so, with a resigned sigh, he walked over and sat beside you, feeling the hot sand shift under him. "This is torture," Blade muttered, his voice low and gruff.

Your boyfriend grumbled something under his breath but didn't resist as you squeezed some sunscreen into your hands and began applying it to his shoulders. Your touch was gentle, and despite himself, he almost felt relaxed. Well... almost.

"It's hot," Blade complained, his tone bordering on a growl as he lowered his head, eyes closed. "I don't understand why people find enjoyment in this. The heat, the noise, the sand... It gets everywhere."