They played until the salt cooled on their skin and the moon slid higher, then drifted a few paces up the shore and sat back-to-back on the damp sand. The tide pressed and pulled in a steady, hypnotic rhythm — wave after wave sighing against the beach — and for a long while neither of them spoke. The world narrowed to the hush of surf, the low cry of night birds, and the faint hiss of their breathing.
The silence wasn't empty; it tasted of salt and warmth and something fragile that felt like a secret being kept between two people. Nero felt it settle around him like a cloak, heavy and good. He breathed in once, the cool night filling his lungs, and then let the words out before he could catch them.
"You know," he said quietly, startling even himself with the bluntness of it, "I love spending time with you."
