The tension still clung to the air like ocean mist, fine and inescapable, long after the phone call had ended.

Darius sat on the edge of the bed, jaw locked tight, elbows on his knees, hands dragging down his face like he could wipe away what he’d just heard.

But Nina’s words rang like sirens.

Vinnie knows.

About Leon. About the evidence…

Darius felt the blood drain from his face. They were running out of time.

Joey sat on the other side of the bed, bare legs pulled to his chest. His blond hair hung in lazy wisps about his face, and his eyes—god, those eyes—were wide and rimmed red with exhaustion and fear. His thumb rubbed anxiously over a fraying thread in the bedspread, over and over, like he could undo the truth if he picked hard enough. He looked younger like this. Vulnerable. Breakable.

“Darius…” he whispered, voice so thin it nearly disappeared. “W-we’re not safe anymore, are we?”

Darius didn’t answer at first. Just breathed, slow and measured, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

“We weren’t ever safe, baby.” He stood and crossed to him, crouching in front of the boy. One large hand reached up to brush wild strands of hair off Joey’s forehead. “But we’re still here. And I’ve got you. That’s not nothing.”

Joey nodded, almost imperceptibly. His lip wobbled and he bit it, like he didn’t want to cry in front of Darius. His hands twisted in the hem of his shirt.

They didn’t say anything else.

Instead, they got up and stepped into the tiny bathroom, and the hot water turned the cramped space into a cloud of fog and heat. They showered in silence, Joey standing still under the stream like he wanted to be washed away with it. Darius stayed behind him, arms wrapped around his chest, pressing soft kisses between his shoulder blades while his fingers gently mapped out every curve of the boy’s wet body.

Afterward, they dried off with thin, cotton towels and redressed in their now-wrinkled jeans, flannels, and boots—the only clothes they had. Joey’s shirt was slightly damp, clinging to his shoulders. He tugged at it halfheartedly, fussing in the mirror, like he couldn’t stand the feeling of anything touching his skin.

Darius stepped up behind him and reached for his belt, helping him tighten it with gentle hands. “We’ll get new stuff today,” he murmured. “Soon as we can.”

Joey nodded and leaned into him for a moment, like a tired child needing a second to rest.

A few minutes later, Darius and Joey’s boots thudded on the stairs as they descended into the shop. Sunlight streamed through the warped front windows, gilding the surfboards and worn display shelves in hazy gold. The ocean breeze slipped through the cracks in the door, stirring the scent of salt, wax, and wood.

They stepped into the shop just as the front door swung open and Zeke strolled in like he owned the place—because he did now, Darius remembered.

Zeke’s hair was artfully windswept, sunglasses perched in them like a crown. He carried a box of doughnuts under one arm and a drink tray with three sweating coffees balanced in the other. “Morning, lovebirds,” he drawled, his voice bright and cutting. “Hope you enjoyed yourselves last night. I know I did.”

Joey stopped in his tracks.

Darius tensed, but tried to play it cool. “Zeke.”

Zeke grinned as he set the box and coffees down on the counter, then leaned his hip against it with practiced ease. “Thin walls, you know. Heard the whole thing. The fighting. Then the… makeup sex on the balcony? Real cinematic.”

Joey flushed deep red. He turned slightly, arms folding tight across his chest like he wished he could disappear.

Darius shot Zeke a look that begged him to knock it off, but Zeke only smirked, eyes flicking between them with predatory amusement.

“Guess I forgot just how loud you can get when you’re all riled up, Darius. Made me nostalgic, honestly,” Zeke went on, taking a sip of his coffee. “Brought back memories. You were always so… vocal when you gave a damn.”

Joey flushed hard. His whole body stiffened. “D-don’t—”

“Don’t what?” Zeke raised an eyebrow, pretending to look innocent. “I’m not judging. That kind of chemistry’s hard to fake. Actually… gotta say, I’m kind of jealous.”

Darius’s jaw flexed. “Zeke. Enough.”

Zeke chuckled and took a long sip of his coffee, like he hadn’t heard a word. “I mean, I get it,” he went on, eyes dragging slowly across Joey’s rumpled clothes and mussed hair. “He’s cute. Like a stray you find outside a gas station. All wet and shivering but… kinda lovable, in a tragic way.”

Joey bristled. “Wh-what the hell is y-your problem?”

Zeke’s grin widened. “Didn’t know I had a problem.”

“Well, I—I think you do.” Joey took a sharp step forward. “You d-don’t know me. You don’t k-know anything about me. So maybe shut the fuck up.”

Darius moved fast, stepping between them with a firm hand on Joey’s chest. “Joey. Cool it.”

Zeke lifted his hands, mock-innocent. “Relax. I’m just breaking the ice. You guys want coffee? I brought two extra. With oat milk—because I’m not a monster.”

He nudged a cup toward Joey, who hesitated before taking it with a brisk ‘thank you’. Darius ignored the second, his jaw set, eyes flicking to Joey’s flushed face and tight shoulders.

Zeke was doing this on purpose.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Zeke asked, peeling open the doughnut box with a flourish. “Besides balcony acrobatics.”

Darius frowned. “We’ve gotta run a few errands in Charleston. I lost my phone, so I need to replace it.”

“Lost it?” Zeke snorted. “You always were careless with the important stuff.”

Darius didn’t rise to the bait. “You still got that old truck?”

Zeke snorted. “That rust bucket died screaming three years ago. Transmission dropped right in the middle of the freeway. I’ve got a hybrid now—smooth as hell and smug about it, too. But I usually bike if I’m just staying here in the store. The car’s back at the house in town. You remember the way?”

Darius nodded. “Can we borrow it for a few hours?”

Zeke shrugged and tossed the keys across the counter. “Just don’t wreck her. Or joyride. Or… whatever it is you do these days.” He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over Darius’s wrinkled flannel and jeans, then down to Joey’s still-damp sleeves and scuffed boots. He wrinkled his nose. “That what you’re wearing?”

“It’s all we’ve got,” Darius said.

Zeke gave a long, dramatic sigh. “Unacceptable. I still have some of your old stuff. Couldn’t throw it out. Too many… memories.” He turned that gaze to Joey now, and the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. “Might have something for him too.”

Joey’s mouth pressed into a hard line. Darius didn’t blame him.

Zeke didn’t wait. He disappeared into the back room, humming like he’d already won something.

Joey muttered under his breath, “H-he’s still into you. It’s p-pathetic.”

Darius let out a quiet laugh and slipped an arm around Joey’s waist. “You jealous?”

“No,” Joey snapped. “But he’s b-being a d-dick.”

Darius kissed the side of his temple, letting his fingers rest just above his hip. “He’s a dick. You’re right. But don’t let him get to you.”

Joey didn’t respond, but leaned into him anyway.

“Stores probably won’t be open for another hour,” Darius added. “After we change, want to check out the beach?”

Joey brightened instantly. “Y-yeah. That sounds nice.”

Zeke returned moments later, two stacks of clothes in hand, already laughing.

“Look what I found,” he said, tossing one bundle toward Darius. “I remember the last time you wore these. Or rather—the last time I took them off. Remember that night I taught you how to make margaritas in a blender with no lid?”

Darius caught them without flinching—teal board shorts, a black muscle shirt, faded flip-flops. His face was a wall, but the crack was there—in his eyes, in the way his jaw flexed just a little too tight. “And you wondered why I left.”

“Excuse me for being nostalgic.” Zeke held out a smaller set of cargo shorts, a too-big t-shirt, and old slides to Joey. “Just some of my old stuff. Don’t worry, I’m not sentimental about these.”

Joey took them like they might bite him. “Th-thanks,” he muttered.

The air in the room stalled.

Darius cleared his throat. “We’re heading down to the beach for a bit before we leave. Want to come?”

Zeke looked up, visibly surprised.

Joey stared at Darius like he’d lost his mind.

But Darius didn’t explain himself. He didn’t say that Zeke was obviously hurting, or that he could already feel this old wound festering between them. Or that he needed to end it—finally—before it bled all over everything else.

Zeke gave a slow nod. “Sure. Why not? I know a spot.”

Darius reached for Joey’s elbow. “Let’s change upstairs—”

“Oh come on. Just do it here,” Zeke said. “We’re all guys.”

Joey’s eyes went huge.

“I won’t look,” Zeke added with a laugh, already turning around. “Promise.”

Darius rolled his eyes and stripped off his flannel, changing with practiced efficiency. The shirt Zeke had given him clung a little too tightly across his chest, and the board shorts sat too low on his hips, like they were meant for showing off. The flip-flops felt flimsy and strange. It wasn’t his style—hell, it felt like wearing someone else's skin—but it would do for now.

Joey was slower.

He peeled off his jeans like he was peeling off a layer of dignity, turning half away as he awkwardly stepped into the worn cargo shorts. The waistband sagged a bit and he had to clutch the drawstring just to keep them up. The t-shirt was enormous on him—swallowing his thin frame, sliding halfway down his thighs—and he kept tugging it lower like it might suddenly cover his entire body.

His cheeks were bright red. His hair was still damp and sticking up on one side, and he looked like a nervous kid changing for gym class while the older boys snickered behind him.

Darius turned, just in time to catch Zeke watching.

Not even subtly. Just a lazy glance through the reflection in the curved glass of the surfboard display, like he was checking the weather—or watching a car crash.

Darius’s hands clenched at his sides.

Nope. That was it.

This wasn’t funny. This wasn’t old flames or harmless banter. Zeke was twisting the knife and enjoying it.

As soon as Joey was distracted—hell, the second he got down to the beach and put his toes in the damn water—Darius was going to corner Zeke and finally say the shit he should’ve said years ago. No more dodging. No more smug digs. No more looks like that.

Joey didn’t deserve this. And Darius wasn’t going to let him keep feeling like some awkward replacement.

He tugged Joey’s t-shirt straight for him, giving it a soft pat as he leaned in. “You look fine,” he murmured. “Ignore him.”

Joey nodded, but his eyes were still on the floor.

Darius glanced over at Zeke again. He wasn’t watching them anymore, but one more look like that, and the beach wasn’t going to be peaceful at all.

Outside, the sky was washed in pale gold, the sun creeping higher over the water as Darius walked beside Joey and Zeke along the weathered wooden path that led to the shoreline. Beneath their feet, the planks creaked and scattered sand crunched softly. The ocean air was cool and damp, sharp with salt, and gulls wheeled above in lazy arcs.

Zeke walked a little ahead, effortlessly slipping into his usual, lazy beach-town rhythm. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, flip-flops slapping with each step. “Waves are decent today,” he said, nodding toward the breakers. “Little glassy, but clean. Good for beginners. I’ve got a couple boards at the shop if either of you want to try it out later.”

Joey chuckled softly but shook his head. “I… I d-don’t even know how to swim.”

Zeke glanced back, brows lifted. “Seriously?”

Joey nodded, eyes on the ground. “Yeah. N-never really got the chance.”

Darius felt something in him stiffen and he looked at Joey, saw the way his fingers had curled in the hem of his shirt again—his nervous tic.

“The first t-time I ever went, it was at this old n-neighborhood pool in Warren,” Joey added, voice small. “It’s shut down n-now, but… when I was four, maybe f-five, my mom brought us all there one summer. It was f-fun for awhile. Me and S-Sara played in the shallow end w-while Josh and Ronnie were doing the d-diving board and the slide. But after awhile, I—I wanted to go down the big slide, too. I was bugging Ronnie to h-help me but… he pushed me into the d-deep end when nobody was looking because I was a-annoying him.”

Zeke stopped walking. Even the birds seemed to fall quiet for a beat.

Joey kept talking, like he had to get it out. “I c-couldn’t scream. I was kicking, c-clawing at the water, but I just kept sinking. Lifeguards had to d-dive in to get me. I guess I was under t-too long. They did CPR. My mom cried the whole way home, s-said she’d get me swim lessons, but… after that, they j-just never brought me again. It was easier, y’know? I stayed h-home with the dogs and my dad while everyone e-else went. Nobody had time to teach me. Or money f-for lessons.”

Darius reached out and drew him close without a word, pressing a kiss to the top of Joey’s damp hair. He held him there as they walked, one strong arm around his narrow shoulders, his heart heavy.

Zeke was silent behind them, the rhythm of his footsteps slower now.

Joey looked up at Darius, blinking hard. “When’d you learn?”

Darius gave a soft snort. “When I was a kid. My mom got us lessons at the church through the Y—back when they still did stuff like that. Me, my brothers, and Amira. She was the youngest but learned the fastest. I swear, that girl was a damn mermaid. Couldn’t get her out of the water even if there was thunder.” He smiled faintly, letting the memory bloom in his chest, warm and a little sharp around the edges. “She’d probably love it here. Somewhere quiet. Salty. Peaceful.”

Joey’s hand found his. “You r-really should try to find her. I m-mean it.”

Darius didn’t answer right away.

Joey’s voice dropped, gentler now. “We talked about it already. F-Facebook. That’s all it takes. I th-think it’d help. I think… you’d f-feel better.”

Darius exhaled, his fingers tightening just slightly around Joey’s. “I don’t know if she wants to be found.”

“Well, I think s-she does,” Joey said simply. “And I love you. So let’s d-do it. Together.”

Darius stopped again, his throat tight. He turned and cupped Joey’s face in one rough hand, brushing his thumb along the soft curve of his cheek. “I love you too,” he said, low and rough, like it cost him something to say it but he needed to anyway. “You’re right. We’ll try, okay? Later.”

Joey’s answering grin was sunshine—pure, delighted, unguarded. And then he turned and bolted toward the water, laughing, his bare feet kicking up sprays of cold sand as he charged down the final stretch.

“Oh my god—it’s f-freezing!” he shouted, darting back from the foamy surf only to run forward again.

Darius hung back, watching him, heart aching with something fierce and tender. Joey looked impossibly young like that—hair flying, shirt flapping in the wind, barefoot and bright-eyed and free for once.

Zeke stepped up beside him. He hadn’t said a word since Joey’s story.

Darius didn’t look over, but he could feel Zeke watching too—watching the boy who’d just spilled a lifetime of hurt with no hesitation. Watching the way Darius held him like he was utterly precious.

“You told him about your sister,” Zeke said quietly.

Darius nodded once. “Yeah.”

Zeke’s voice was neutral. Too neutral. “You never told me you even had a sister.”

Darius turned his head slightly. “You never asked.”

Zeke didn’t reply. But his mouth was tight now, pressed into a flat line, and the faintest trace of something bitter twisted behind his eyes.

Darius exhaled.

Yeah.

It was time.

Zeke leaned against one of the cracked, barnacle-crusted beams under the boardwalk, arms crossed tight over his chest. Darius didn’t need to look to know the bitterness in his eyes.

“So,” Zeke said finally, voice dry, “do you really love him? Or are you just saying that to make the kid feel special?”

Darius didn’t react right away. He watched Joey in the shallows—shirt clinging to his sides, laughing, hair whipping around his face like he’d never known a single bad day in his life. It was a lie, of course. Joey had known only bad days.

“I do love him,” Darius said. “I’m the one who said it first, actually. A few nights ago. And yeah… it’s new. It’s raw. But it’s real. I can feel it.”

Zeke let out a short, joyless laugh. “Jesus, Darius. You’ve known him how long?”

“Just over a week.”

Zeke barked a louder laugh this time, sharp and scathing. “A week? And you’re already planning matching tombstones?”

Darius sighed. He didn’t flinch from it—he understood the hurt behind the sarcasm.

Zeke shook his head. “God. What happened to you since you left, huh? You’re so desperate for connection now, you had to go digging in the bargain bin for damaged goods? What—I wasn’t broken enough for you? Is that it?”

The words hit harder than Darius expected. He turned toward Zeke, meeting his eyes. “You were never broken, Zeke. You were... free. Joyful. You made me feel things I didn’t know how to deal with back then. That scared me.”

“Oh, come on—” Zeke scoffed.

“I wasn’t ready,” Darius said, more firmly now. “When I came here last, I was burning out. Angry. Trying to prove something to people who would never actually give a fuck. I didn’t know it yet, but I was already unraveling. You were this... bright, open thing. And I was trying to hold it all together with duct tape and staples.”

Zeke’s mouth pressed into a bitter line, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I knew you were falling for me,” Darius continued. “And I got scared. Because I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I didn’t even know what love looked like back then. So, when Cleveland called me back… I left.”

“Without saying goodbye,” Zeke snapped.

Darius nodded, guilt heavy in his chest. “Yeah. I didn’t know how to explain who I was. Or what I was doing. I still can’t, not fully. But I regret how I handled it. I’m sorry, Zeke.”

“If you’re really sorry, then why didn’t you come back for me?” Zeke looked at him, jaw flexing. “Why did you fall for the first soft-eyed stray you found in a Cleveland alley?”

“It’s not like that,” Darius said.

Zeke spread his hands wide. “Then help me understand. What the hell changed, Darius? What happened while you were gone that made him worth the risk, but not me?”

Darius’s voice dropped low. “Everything changed.” He took a step closer, speaking like the truth had been waiting in his throat for years. “I went back to Cleveland and the thing I was chasing… that approval, that place in the world I thought I’d finally earned? It was never real. No matter how hard I worked, no matter what I gave—it wasn’t going to happen. And the people I thought would always be there? They started disappearing.”

Zeke frowned, confused, but Darius pressed on.

“One guy… the only one who ever looked at me like I mattered. Like I wasn’t just another tool. He disappeared. And when he did, nothing made sense anymore. I started waking up, seeing it for what it really was. The jobs, the bullshit, the empty routine.”

He paused, watching Joey again as he bent to collect shells, face lit with joy over something so small.

“And then Joey came along. And yeah, he’s got scars. But he smiles anyway. He tries. And he sees me. He saw who I really was under the mask almost immediately. And instead of running, he stayed.” Darius smiled a little, reliving the miracle of Joey’s acceptance through his words. “He’s not just trying to survive, either—he wants more. He wants better. For both of us. And I... I want that too. I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Zeke’s expression twisted—something between heartbreak and frustration.

“You’re right,” Darius said quietly. “We shouldn’t be in love. Not this fast. Not in the middle of all this chaos. But I’m not slowing down. I’ve already lost too much time trying to be someone I’m not.” He took a breath, gaze fixed on Joey, light dancing off the water between them. “And we’re really in it now—something dangerous, something that could literally end our lives. But I’m not letting go. Not of him. Not of this. That’s how I know it’s real, Zeke. I’m not walking away. Not this time. Not ever.”

Zeke looked away, biting the inside of his cheek.

They stood in silence for a moment, waves crashing faintly behind them. Joey’s happy whoop echoed across the sand.

Zeke let out a soft exhale and muttered, “Four years.”

Darius blinked. “What?”

“I waited,” Zeke said. “Four damn years. Not every day. Not like I was sitting by the window, pining or whatever. But part of me thought... maybe you'd come back. And if you did…”

He trailed off, then gestured toward Joey with a bitter laugh. “I didn’t expect this. Some scruffy kid with big green eyes and a stutter. You showed up outta nowhere with a boyfriend. One you love, apparently.”

Darius didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Zeke sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “You’re still hiding things from me. Still keeping walls up. But I appreciate what you told me today. It’s not what I wanted, but I guess… it’s something.”

Darius smiled faintly. “You deserve someone who can be completely honest with you. Someone open. Fun. Probably cute, too. Maybe even younger.”

“You mean like Joey?” Zeke gave him a dry look, then snorted. “What, you think the universe is just gonna drop some reckless little disaster twink in my lap?”

Darius raised an eyebrow, amused. “Stranger things have happened.”

Zeke rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of reluctant amusement in his voice. “Yeah. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Darius just grinned and patted his shoulder.

Zeke was quiet for a minute, but the bitterness in his face was fading, softening into something more like tired acceptance. “You should go after him,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “Your boyfriend’s about to drown in two inches of water.”

Darius laughed—really laughed, low and real, like something inside him had finally started to thaw. “Yeah. He probably is.”

He took off jogging toward the shoreline, kicking up wet sand with every step. The wind whipped past him, salt sharp on his tongue.

Joey turned just in time to see him coming, eyes lighting up like a sunrise.

“Darius!” he called, holding up a shell with both hands, beaming. “Look at this one—it’s p-perfect!”

Darius didn’t even stop. He waded into the shallows and scooped him up from behind, strong arms wrapping around Joey’s waist. Joey shrieked with laughter, kicking up water as Darius spun him, fast and dizzy and grinning like an idiot.

Joey’s head tipped back, hair soaked, and that laugh—so open, so real—shot straight through Darius’s chest like sunlight cracking through stained glass.

“You’re gonna m-make me drop the shell!” Joey yelled between giggles.

“Then hold onto it, silly,” Darius said, grinning as he finally set him down—gently, almost reverently. Joey’s eyes were shining, his cheeks flushed with cold and joy and something too big to name.

Darius looked at him for a long second, just breathing.

He’d never felt lighter. Never felt more… full.

Joey wiped at his wet hair with the heel of his hand, sheepish and glowing. “What?” he said.

“Nothing,” Darius murmured, smiling. “Just… glad you didn’t drown.”

“Me too,” Joey said, smirking up at him. “T-then who’d keep you from brooding y-yourself into a coma?”

Darius chuckled, reaching up to brush Joey’s hair back from his forehead. His fingers lingered. “Yeah. I’d be screwed without you.”

The waves broke around their knees, cold and relentless, but neither of them moved.

They were here. They were alive.

And, for once—finally—Darius didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Behind them, Zeke watched from under the boardwalk, arms still folded—but his expression had changed. There was something quieter now. Not acceptance, exactly. But the start of it.

Then he turned, stepping back into the shadow of the beam, and left them to the waves.

An hour later, they left the beach and started the walk through town.

The shops and the boardwalk faded behind them, replaced by winding sidewalks and the occasional pastel-colored bungalow tucked behind swaying palmettos. Joey’s borrowed slides squelched with seawater as they walked side by side, arms brushing now and then. The air was warm and heavy, thick with gardenia and the hush of distant waves.

“Two m-miles isn’t that bad,” Joey said, cheeks still pink from the ocean. “Unless y-you got old-man knees.”

Darius gave him a look. “I’m thirty.”

Joey grinned. “Ancient.”

“I should throw you into traffic.”

“You already d-did throw me—into the ocean, remember?” Joey laughed. “I got s-saltwater up my nose, like, f-five times.”

Darius snorted. “Fair.”

They lapsed into quiet for a while, walking in step. A lawnmower buzzed somewhere behind a hedge. Birds chirped. The sound of the waves was faint now, but still present—like a heartbeat under everything. For once, the world didn’t feel like it was ending.

Joey kicked a pebble off the curb. “You laughed back there. A-at the beach.”

Darius raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I th-think it’s the first time I ever heard it like that. Like… not h-holding back.”

Darius didn’t speak for a moment. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”

Joey nodded, then looked around at the quiet street. “I l-like it here,” he said. “It’s just… laid back. Slow. Makes me f-feel like I can breathe.”

Darius hummed in agreement.

“I heard the waves in my d-dreams last night,” Joey added. “It was nice. Like… for once, I d-didn’t dream about the s-shit we left behind. I just floated.”

Darius looked over at him—really looked. Joey’s cheeks were still a little flushed from the cold water, his hair a windblown mess, but his eyes were soft. Content.

“It’s a good sound,” Darius said. “The ocean.”

Joey smiled, then sighed. “I know we’re s-still in trouble. I know we’re not out of it yet. But it feels l-like we’re not being chased anymore.”

Darius nodded slowly. “We will be again. Soon as we start moving pieces. Once we show our faces again, once people realize what we’re doing—”

“I—I know,” Joey cut in. His voice was quiet. “I just... I hope there’s t-time for one thing. Before everything gets bad again.”

Darius glanced at him.

Joey kept his eyes on the sidewalk. “I wanna go swimming. Like, r-real swimming. Not just splashing around w-with you throwing me.”

A soft smile tugged at Darius’s mouth. “Yeah?”

Joey nodded, a little hesitant. “I know what I said e-earlier, about the deep end and all. And I m-meant it. It—what Ronnie did—it s-sucked. But I still wanna learn. It’s dumb, p-probably. Like the reading thing. But I think... I’d be good at it, if s-someone just showed me how.”

“You wouldn’t be dumb,” Darius said. “And you would be good at it. Just like the reading. You’re already brave. That’s the hardest part.”

Joey looked at him, then quickly away. “Mm. M-maybe.”

“You know, Zeke could probably teach you,” Darius added after a moment. “He grew up in the water. Surfed most his life. He knows what he’s doing.”

Joey immediately wrinkled his nose. “Ugh.”

Darius chuckled. “What?”

“I d-don’t like him,” Joey mumbled. “He keeps reminding me he slept with you. It’s w-weird. He’s weird.”

Darius snorted but didn’t argue. “Yeah, he’s a pain in the ass. But we talked. Earlier, when you were in the water.”

Joey glanced sideways at him, curious.

“I said a lot of things I should’ve said four years ago,” Darius continued. “And I think we finally got some closure. It felt like… like that door finally closed.”

Joey didn’t respond right away. His brow furrowed.

“I’m not saying you gotta be best friends,” Darius added. “But give him another shot. He might surprise you.”

Joey made a grumbling noise, low in his throat. “Y-you’re just saying that because he’s loaning us his c-car.”

Darius laughed. “Maybe.”

Joey cracked a reluctant smile, but it didn’t quite hide the glint of jealousy in his eyes. Still, he let the moment pass, and they kept walking.

The sidewalk curved one last time, and there it was—nestled behind a white picket fence and half-shadowed by a pair of tall palmettos.

Zeke’s house.

Or rather, his father’s old place.

The little bungalow was painted soft blue with sun-faded shutters and a wide porch that sagged just slightly in the middle. A couple of wind-tossed chairs sat near the door, their cushions faded from years of sun. Ivy had started creeping up one corner of the porch railing, but otherwise the place looked well-kept—cozy in a way that made Joey instinctively step closer to Darius.

“Frank’s old place,” Darius said, stopping in front of the gate. “Zeke’s dad. He used to call it the last outpost of the '70s.” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Met him a few times, when I stayed here last. He was a trip. Big beard. Tie-dye shirts. Made his own kombucha in the kitchen sink. Probably smoked more weed than half the teenagers in town.”

Joey snorted. “Sounds l-like a legend.”

“He kind of was.” Darius pushed the gate open. “C’mon. Garage’s in the back.”

They followed a stone path along the side of the house, lined with big-leafed elephant ears and stray shells. A weathered wooden surfboard leaned against the side wall, painted with fading psychedelic swirls. The garage sat just behind the house, squat and sun-bleached, its siding partially covered with creeping vines.

Darius pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and typed the code into the keypad by the side door. A loud click sounded, followed by the creak of hinges, and then they were inside.

The garage was surprisingly clean. A pegboard lined the far wall, dotted with neatly hung tools and surf wax. In the center sat Zeke’s car—a sleek, pearl-gray hybrid hatchback, polished to a shine despite a little sand dust clinging to the tires.

“Whoa,” Joey breathed, walking a slow circle around the car. “I-is this a 2021 Insight?”

Darius blinked. “...Yeah?”

Joey whistled. “D-damn. I’ve never worked on a hybrid before. Bet the e-braking s-system’s tricky as hell.”

“You’ll probably get your chance,” Darius said, amused. “Zeke’s always been a ‘fix it yourself’ kind of guy.”

Joey popped open the driver’s door and peered inside like it was a spaceship. “This thing’s clean. Like... weirdly clean. N-not a crumb in sight.”

“Zeke’s meticulous,” Darius said. “But hey—check this out.”

He’d wandered to a shelf near the workbench, where a dust-covered storage bin sat half-pulled open. Nestled inside, resting neatly in its foam cradle, was a compact black quadcopter drone with sleek red detailing. Darius picked it up, flipping it in his hands. The battery indicator still glowed faintly green.

“Well, well,” he muttered, grinning. “Zeke’s old toy still works.”

Joey turned. “Is that a d-drone?”

“Yeah. Used to use it for surf videos, way back. Bet he forgot all about it.”

“You g-gonna take it?”

“Borrow it,” Darius corrected. “He won’t mind. And we need eyes on that safehouse.”

Joey’s eyes widened with interest. “So we d-don’t even have to go near it?”

“Exactly,” Darius said. “We’ll stop and grab a burner phone first, then find a good vantage point near Leon’s place. Fly this in, get eyes on the layout. See if anyone’s there, if they’ve moved anything. No risk. No trail.”

Joey bounced a little on his heels, visibly excited. “Can I fly it?”

“We’ll see,” Darius said, chuckling. “First let’s make sure we don’t crash it into a palm tree.”

They loaded the drone into the back of the car, then climbed in—Joey running his fingers reverently over the dashboard as he settled into the passenger seat.

Darius started the engine, and the hybrid purred quietly to life.

The early afternoon light flickered between the trees as Zeke’s little car hummed down the highway toward Charleston, the windows cracked just enough to let in a breeze. Joey sat in the passenger seat, one leg folded under him, fiddling with the radio like it was a Rubik’s cube.

"Ugh. N-not this one."

click.

"Nope."

click.

"...Ugh, c-classical? Darius, kill me."

click.

Then—

“A tornado flew around my room before you came...”

Joey gasped. “O-oh! Wait! I l-love this one!”

Darius glanced over, recognizing the song immediately. “Frank Ocean, huh? Finally. Something I can work with.”

Joey gave him a side-eye. “Better than c-country?”

Darius smirked. “Infinitely.”

Joey sang along softly, a little shaky but full of feeling:

“Excuse the mess it made, it usually doesn't rain in,”

“Southern California, much like Arizona.”

And then, smooth as silk, Darius joined in:

“My eyes don't shed tears, but boy, they pour,”

“When I'm thinkin' 'bout you, ooh, no, no, no.””

Joey’s mouth dropped open. “Y-you—what the hell—” He turned in his seat, eyes wide. “W-wait, you said you c-could sing, but I didn’t know you meant like that.”

Darius chuckled, the sound low and real, and it caught Joey off guard—how genuine it was. Not sarcastic. Not guarded. Just… happy.

Despite everything.

“I told you,” Darius said. “I was waiting for something decent.”

Joey beamed at him, all pink cheeks and bright eyes. “Y-you sound like—like you sh-should be famous or something.”

Darius gave a low laugh. “Nah. You’ve got the better sob story. People love that shit.”

Joey laughed too, then took a breath and started singing again. Darius followed.

“I've been thinkin' 'bout you, do you think about me still?”

“Do ya, do ya?”

“Or do you not think so far ahead?”

“'Cause I been thinkin' 'bout forever, ooh.”

Their voices tangled in the warm air, smooth and imperfect and strangely perfect together—two lost souls in a borrowed car on their way to nowhere and everywhere at once.

Charleston opened up around them in golden haze and palm trees, the old city brushing up against the ocean like it knew it was beautiful. Narrow streets wove through rows of pastel-colored buildings with wrought iron balconies and blooming jasmine. Brightly colored tourists strolled in little groups while seagulls cried overhead.

But Darius didn’t take them to the beachy boardwalk or the quaint tourist traps. He pulled into a rougher part of town just outside the historic district—where the corners had gas stations with metal bars and sun-faded signs.

Darius pulled into a narrow parking lot beside a tiny store with dusty windows and a neon OPEN sign that buzzed weakly.

Inside, the shop was dim and claustrophobic, shelves crammed with everything from motor oil to beef jerky. A box fan buzzed behind the counter, barely stirring the heat.

Darius made a beeline to the register, already browsing the prepaid phones in the glass display.

“Cheapest one that still works,” he said to the cashier, digging into his wallet. “And a pack of Reds.”

Behind him, Joey drifted between the aisles, hands deep in his cargo shorts, eyes darting. He stopped in front of the candy and stared longingly. Then he leaned down, read something, and with a twitch of his fingers, a Butterfinger disappeared into his pocket.

He circled back toward the drinks, stopped in front of the cooler for a moment, glancing at the water bottles for show—then, just as smoothly, palmed one of those nasty little neon energy shots off the shelf and slid it into his pocket, too.

He returned to the counter just as the cashier handed Darius the clamshell package containing the phone.

“Hey,” Joey said, flashing a hopeful smile, “C-can we get another p-pack too? For later? We’re a-always running out.”

Darius gave him a side-eye. “That’s because you smoke like it’s cardio.”

Joey widened his eyes, gave a tiny pout. “P-please?”

Darius exhaled hard. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” He dropped another crumpled bill on the counter. “Fine. But that’s it. We got like ten bucks left now.”

They stepped into the warm afternoon sun, the cracked pavement slapping under their sandals.

Joey waited till they’d nearly reached the car then he reached into his pockets and theatrically pulled out the candy bar and energy shot.

“Tada.”

Darius stopped walking. “Are you serious?”

Joey was already biting into the Butterfinger. “Mmhmm.”

“I told you not to do that, Joey.”

Joey shrugged, caramel sticking to his teeth. “I-I d-do it all the time. N-nothing ever happens.”

Darius just stared.

“I mean, we n-never had shit growin’ up,” Joey said, wiping his hands on his hoodie. “Four kids sh-sharin’ one toothbrush, that kinda broke. If I wanted candy or shampoo or a damn pair of socks, I had to f-figure it out myself.”

Darius’s expression softened. “Yeah. I get that.” He leaned against the side of the car, squinting at the sun. “I used to pocket stuff too. Mostly stupid shit. Pokémon cards and CDs... My mom caught me once—made me march back into the store and apologize to the cashier. I was eleven. Thought I was gonna die from embarrassment.”

Joey snorted. “B-bet you cried.”

“Like a baby,” Darius said without shame. “But it worked. I never did it again.”

Joey peeled open the energy shot and downed it without even glancing at the label.

“That stuff’s radioactive,” Darius warned.

“Y-you’re just j-jealous I have the guts,” Joey said, grinning. “Besides, y-you’re the one who j-just bought a burner phone and smokes with stolen money.”

“We earned some of it,” Darius grumbled. “But, technically… fair.”

“D-damn right.”

Joey reached for the cigarettes and Darius handed them over with a shake of his head, muttering, “Rookie.”

They climbed back into the car. Joey rolled the window down and lit up, squinting against the bright sky.

Leon’s neighborhood didn’t look like it belonged in the same city. Palms lined the street in perfect symmetry. White walls, black iron gates, green manicured lawns slid past their windows. Every house here could’ve been a magazine spread—classic Charleston wealth, touched by salt air and privilege.

They parked two blocks away from their target: Leon’s old safehouse.

“Alright,” Darius said, killing the engine. “We keep it lowkey. No traffic, no lights. Just eyes on the place.”

He reached into the backseat, grabbing the drone case.

Joey leaned over, peeking. “Y-you sure it still works?”

Darius flipped the drone open, clipped the controller into place. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

They got out and made their way down the block until they had a decent vantage point from a small side street behind a hedge of overgrown oleander. The wind smelled like sea salt and cut grass.

Darius powered on the drone, adjusted the controller settings, and launched it.

The thing buzzed to life and rose with a quiet hum, climbing into the sky until it hovered like a mosquito, blinking red and green.

When they got back in the car, the camera feed was sharp despite the age of the model. Darius expertly tilted the angle, giving them a sweeping view of the property. The house sat like a model home on a magazine cover—modern lines, tall windows, the Atlantic glittering behind it.

But even from here, Darius felt it.

Something was wrong.

“Lawn’s being kept up,” he muttered, adjusting the view to pan across the back. “But no lights. No cars. No sign of disturbance.”

Joey squinted at the screen. “C-could be b-booby trapped.”

Darius grunted. “Or they’re just waiting for us.”

They flew a wide perimeter. The drone circled again. Nothing. Clean. Too clean.

After almost an hour of slow surveillance and not a single sign of movement, Joey started squirming. “L-let me try.”

Darius hesitated. “Joey...”

“Please? Jus’ a little.”

Darius sighed then handed over the controller. “Be gentle. You crash it, you’re buying Zeke a new one.”

Joey’s eyes lit up as he took the controls.

For the first ten minutes, he was surprisingly focused—careful turns, steady altitude. But then he got cocky.

“Ohhh, watch this!”

“Joey, no—”

The drone dipped dramatically, zipping between two palmettos with a reckless flourish.

Darius’s hand shot out. “Don’t you dare!”

Joey yanked it up just in time to avoid a chimney. “Hah! I got it, I got—shit!”

The drone wobbled hard. The camera tilted sideways. An audible beep-beep-beep warned of a low-altitude stall.

“Joey!”

“I-I’m f-fixing it!”

A tense beat.

Then the drone straightened out, regaining altitude with a whine.

Joey whooped, triumphant.

Darius snatched the controller back.

“That’s enough Ace Pilot,” he muttered. “We need the drone to live through this week.”

Joey just beamed, giddy from adrenaline. “D-did you see that though?! I pulled up just in time!”

Darius gave him a dry look. “You almost lawn-mowered a drone that costs more than your car.”

Joey lit a cigarette and plopped back in his seat, unbothered. “W-worth it.”

After another forty some minutes of surveillance, they called the drone back and got out to retrieve it, packing it away in silence. Darius didn’t say much at first, his mind was still chewing on the quietness of the safehouse.

It was too neat. Too still.

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” he said finally. “Run another pass.”

Joey nodded, exhaling smoke into the fading light.

Darius stood still, eyes locked on the horizon, where the sun sat high above the glittering Atlantic.

Something wasn’t right.

Thirty minutes later, Darius parked the hybrid along the curb in front of Board to Death, its weather-worn sign hanging a little crooked above the door. They got out and approached the storefront. The bell above the door jingled when Darius pushed it open and a blast of warm air chased the outside chill from their shoulders.

Inside, the shop buzzed with lazy coastal energy. Somewhere overhead, a fan creaked slowly as it rotated. A couple of tourists wandered by the sticker wall, murmuring over “Shred Til You’re Dead” decals and faded sun hats while a teenage girl stood near the register, poking at a bin of seashell keychains.

Zeke looked up from the counter and grinned as Darius and Joey walked in, the look unusually mellow for him—lighter somehow. “Well, well,” he drawled, his eyes flashing with amusement. “The heroes return.”

Joey stiffened instinctively, like he was readying himself for another verbal jab. But Zeke surprised them both.

“You look good, sunshine,” he said, nodding to Joey. “Beach must’ve done you some good.”

Darius didn’t miss the way Joey blinked—caught mid-step, as if waiting for the insult that never came. He muttered a surprised, “...Th-thanks,” then glanced over at Darius, clearly confused.

Darius smirked, watching Joey glitch like a dial-up modem trying to process Zeke’s sudden civility. But he wasn’t surprised. Their conversation under the boardwalk had landed exactly how he wanted it to.

Zeke turned his attention to Darius. “So. You guys find what you needed?”

Darius kept his tone casual. “More or less. Picked up a new phone, took a little drive.”

“Didn’t wreck my car, I see. So we’re already ahead of schedule.”

Darius chuckled lightly. “Appreciate the loan. Mind if we hop on the computer for a bit?”

Zeke waved a hand toward the back hallway. “Be my guest. It’s a dinosaur, but it gets the job done. Just try not to download porn. I don’t think the system could take another virus.”

Joey coughed a laugh, trailing behind Darius.

“Oh—hey,” Zeke called after them, voice lighter than before. “Fridge is fair game if you’re hungry. I’ll grab a couple pizzas when I close up—say, around six?”

Darius gave him a nod. “Sounds perfect.”

The back of the store was a chaotic mash-up of bachelor pad, storage closet, and stoner hideaway.

A short hallway branched into a few half-separated spaces. To the right was a tiny half bath, the sink stained with old toothpaste and a crooked mirror hanging above it. To the left was Zeke’s bedroom, the door left wide open to reveal a narrow bed with tangled blankets, a low futon, and a beanbag chair parked in front of a battered little TV. On the dresser in the corner sat an overflowing ashtray, two used rolling trays, and a ceramic bong shaped like a seahorse and painted lime green.

The open office laid straight ahead, really just a desk with a beat-up Dell monitor, surrounded by stacks of surf mags, bills, and empty La Croix cans. A corkboard above the desk had a few pinned postcards, a handful of receipts, and a faded to-do list. And tucked off to the side was a tiny kitchenette, barely big enough to turn around in, with a fridge/freezer combo currently humming like it was dying and a microwave on top, blinking 12:00 forever.

Darius headed straight to the desk and nudged the mouse. The screen flickered to life with the dull glow of an ancient browser window. Windows 10, running like it wished it weren’t.

Behind him, Joey crouched in front of the fridge.

“F-frozen peas, four d-different condiments, some beer…” He shifted something then pulled out two Styrofoam cups. “Ramen!”

Darius glanced over. “Of course.”

“I’ll m-make us both some,” Joey offered. “M-might as well eat now, before pizza apocalypse later.”

Darius gave him a skeptical look. “You’re just trying to poison me with sodium.”

Joey winked. “I call it character building.”

Darius turned back to the screen, fingers moving efficiently across the keyboard.

He logged into Charleston Craigslist, navigated to Missed Connections, and typed out the agreed-upon message:

To the girl with the cracked umbrella by the fire escape

“Sky turned green. I still have your lighter. Call me, same city. New number. Miss you.”

The post was short. Cryptic. Safe.

It would mean nothing to anyone but Nina. “Sky turned green” was their code—a leftover from a job in Detroit during tornado season, the only mission where things had gone right for once. It meant: safe contact. But act fast.

Darius hit submit, exhaled, then leaned back in the chair. The weight returned instantly—an invisible yoke across his chest.

Nina was out there somewhere. If she was smart, she was already on the move. If she was lucky, she’d see the post before Vinnie’s people saw her.

Darius raked a hand over his hair.

Please call. Please be alive.

Behind him, the microwave dinged. A smell like synthetic chicken and childhood regret filled the air.

Joey shuffled over with two hot cups of ramen, steam curling up like mist.

Darius turned from the screen, the Craigslist tab still open but his mind elsewhere.

Joey held out a cup. “No t-top ramen slander unless y-you have a better plan.”

Darius smirked, took it. “I’m going to regret this.”

“You already do.”

Darius took a cautious sip—and instantly grimaced. “Christ.”

Joey beamed. “T-told you. Builds character. I ate this a-all the time growing up.”

Darius chuckled quietly, but his gaze lingered on the computer screen.

The message was out.

Now all they could do was wait.

Please, Nina. Be okay.

Darius took another reluctant sip of the ramen. It was salty, vaguely chicken-like, and somehow nostalgic enough to keep drinking.

Across from him, Joey had plopped into the low office chair near the printer, slurping noodles loudly and swinging one foot back and forth beneath the desk.

He looked absurdly at home in the chaos.

Darius had always imagined danger would harden someone. Burn away softness, kill wonder. But Joey? He carried it with him anyway. Like a bruise that turned into a flower.

“So,” Joey said between mouthfuls of lukewarm noodles, “d-do you think she’ll see it? Nina?”

“I hope so,” Darius muttered, leaning back in the creaky office chair. “She’s smart. If she got out, she’ll be looking.”

Joey nodded like he didn’t need convincing. “She s-sounded cool.”

“She is.” Darius hesitated, eyes flicking toward the Craigslist tab still open on the screen. “I owe her a lot. Probably more than I can pay back.”

Joey looked over at him, quiet for a beat, then said, “Y-you care about her, don’t you? She’s more th-than just someone you worked with.”

Darius didn’t answer right away. His fingers drummed against the desk, soft and rhythmic. “Yeah. She’s… probably the only person I could call a friend. Besides Leon. She’s the only one I ever really trusted in that world.”

Joey’s mouth twisted around his plastic fork. “You’re feeling guilty.”

Darius blinked. “What?”

“You’re worried s-she’s in trouble now because of you. B-because she helped.”

Darius looked down, his voice quieter now. “She is in trouble because of me.”

Joey shook his head, insistent. “She made her own choice, D. You t-told her the truth, and she chose to help you. Just like I am now.”

Darius raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re really gonna lump yourself in with a Harvard-educated lawyer?”

Joey grinned. “Damn right. We both got big hearts and no survival instinct.”

Darius huffed a laugh despite himself. He sat back, watching Joey slurp another bite of noodles with zero elegance and even less shame. The warmth curled in his chest, quiet but undeniable.

Joey nudged his leg under the desk. “You trust me to make choices. Why not her?”

That landed harder than Darius expected. He blinked, mouth twitching like he had something to say—then just shook his head and smiled faintly. “How do you do that?”

“D-do what?”

“Say stuff that makes me feel like a soap opera lead from the ‘90s.”

Joey burst out laughing, nearly spilling his ramen. “I—I d-don’t know! I just s-say stuff!”

Darius leaned in, mock-serious. “You’re dangerous.”

Joey snorted. “You’re d-delusional.”

They both grinned, a soft quiet stretching between them. It felt warm. Real.

Then Joey perked up suddenly, setting his ramen down with purpose.

“W-we were gonna look her up,” he said.

Darius blinked. “Look who up?”

Joey gave him a really? look. “Y-your sister. This morning. Remember?”

Oh. Right.

“Joey…”

“C’mon!” Joey leaned across the desk, nudging the keyboard toward Darius. “W-what if she’s out there right now, j-just like Nina?”

Darius frowned, unsure.

But Joey looked so damn hopeful.

He sighed. “Fine.”

Darius opened a browser tab and typed: Amira Cross Facebook.

He didn’t expect much. That name wasn’t uncommon. And for all he knew, she could’ve changed it years ago, anyway.

But there she was. Fourth result down.

Amira Rodriguez (Cross). Newly married. Profile photo showed her smiling with a Hispanic guy in a button-down shirt and khakis, holding a baby boy with wild curls. Palm trees in the background. The caption read: “First beach trip for little Luis. He didn’t eat too much sand.”

Darius clicked the profile, and the rest unfurled like a time capsule. Wedding photos. A work bio—Project Manager, UX Lead, Coastal Tech Solutions. A housewarming post, dated three months ago: “Settling into our place outside Savannah. Big backyard, ocean breeze, little guy’s already toddling.”

Amira’s face hadn’t changed much. Same sharp eyes. Same confident posture. Even now, she looked like she had her shit together. Like she always had.

Joey leaned in beside him, sipping from the now-empty ramen cup. “Sh-she’s really pretty.”

Darius stared at the screen, his heart doing flips. His chest was tight, too, full of both hope and guilt.

“She looks happy,” he murmured. “Always said she’d move somewhere warmer.”

Joey glanced at him. “Y-you ever think about going after her? Before?”

Darius shrugged. “She cut ties. I figured she had her reasons.”

“You d-did too,” Joey said quietly. “You were b-both just trying to survive.”

Darius didn’t answer. He just kept looking at the pictures.

“Okay,” Joey said, after a long pause. “N-new plan.”

Darius groaned. “Oh no.”

“We’re making you a fake profile.”

“What?”

Joey was already reaching for the mouse. “We c-can’t just message her from your name. She might not even look.”

“She might think I’m dead.”

“Exactly. S-so we give her a gentle surprise.”

Darius gave him a look. “A gentle surprise?”

“Better than a heart attack.”

They bickered over the name for a minute, finally settling on something neutral—Clarence D.—with a random profile pic of a collie sitting in a canoe.

Darius squinted at it. “This looks like a fishing blog for suburban dads.”

“Perfect,” Joey said. “You’re d-disarming.”

They laughed, and Darius felt something break open in his chest again. Not pain. Not even relief.

Just warmth.

With Joey’s help, he typed up a short message.

Hey Amira. You probably won’t believe this, but it’s me. Darius. I’m safe. I’m not asking for anything—just wanted to say I’m alive. And I’m thinking about you. Hope you’re happy.
–D

Joey clicked send before Darius could overthink it.

Then he leaned in and kissed him, quick and sweet, ramen and all.

“You d-did good,” he said softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Darius didn’t say anything. He just cupped Joey’s face and kissed him again—longer this time.

When they finally broke apart, Joey flopped back into his chair and yawned dramatically. “S-still a few hours till pizza…”

Darius stood, stretching. “Then we should do a reading lesson.”

Joey groaned. “Whyyy.”

“Actually, no reading,” Darius said. “We’ll mixing it up. Today, you’ll write.”

Joey stared at him like he’d just suggested advanced mathmatics. “Writing? Like... words?”

“Yes, words,” Darius said, already pulling some printer paper from the tray. “You know. Those weird symbols we’ve been talking about for days now.”

Joey groaned louder but he didn’t argue.

They sat at the desk together. Darius watched Joey grip the pen awkwardly, brows furrowed as he tried to copy cat, car, run, and Joey in big clumsy letters.

He kept apologizing for his handwriting. Darius kept telling him to shut up.

By the end of the hour, Joey could write five words—barely legible, but his. A slow start. But still a start.

When Joey finally looked up, Darius caught the quiet pride in his face before he could hide it.

“You’re doing better than you think,” Darius said, voice low.

Joey shrugged, but his smile lingered.

Darius leaned back, arms crossed. “We should hang your first word on Zeke’s fridge.”

“P-please don’t.”

“We’ll laminate it. Put glitter on the border.”

Joey threw a crumpled sheet of paper at him.

They both laughed.

And outside, the sun began to sink behind the shop’s warped windows, the scent of salt air and weed drifting in like a promise of something softer.

By the time they wandered back into the main shop, Zeke stood behind the counter, scribbling something into a ledger, while the last straggling customers trickled out.

“Speak of the devils,” he said, glancing up as the bell above the door jingled behind him. “Perfect timing. Just finished locking the register.” He peeled off a receipt, tucked it under the till, then grinned at them. “Pizza’s on its way. I figured we could take it down to the beach, start a little fire. I got some blunts rolled, too.”

Joey lit up instantly. “Y-yes please!”

Zeke laughed. “That right there’s what I like to hear.”

Darius smirked quietly to himself, watching Joey bounce in place with boyish excitement. He still had a smear of dried ramen on his t-shirt, and his wild hair stuck up in every direction, but he looked radiant—more carefree than Darius had ever seen him.

They gathered up a few thrifted blankets from the back and headed down the beach path, the last heat of the day still clinging to the sand. Joey quickly got to work, spreading out the blankets, while Zeke tossed Darius a lighter and a small bundle of firewood.

“You’re on fire duty, muscle man.”

Darius dropped the bundle with a grunt. “So this is what being a houseguest gets me.”

But he didn’t really mind. It felt good to do something physical again—something normal. He crouched down beside the shallow pit in the sand, arranging the wood and kindling with practiced hands. This time, there were matches. Tinder. Dry sticks. Not the soggy logs and desperation he’d had in the West Virginia woods, hiding from cops, cold and half-starved, trying to keep Joey from shivering to death.

This time, it was easy.

Zeke, busy messing with the weed, sent Joey back to the shop to get the food and by the time the boy came jogging back, a large pizza box in one arm and a two-liter of soda under the other, the fire was crackling, golden light flickering over the driftwood and their faces.

Darius watched Joey approach, breathless, grinning.

“Hot d-delivery, coming through!”

He dropped to his knees beside the fire, flipping the lid open to reveal two large pepperoni-and-jalapeño pies. Steam curled up into the salty breeze.

Zeke plopped down on the opposite side of the fire, handing each of them a fat blunt. “To stolen evenings,” he said, striking a lighter.

They passed the weed around and dug into the pizza, greasy and too hot, but divine.

Soon, the pizza box had been reduced to grease-streaked cardboard and crusts. The fire crackled lazily, low but steady, and the air had cooled to a perfect chill—just enough to justify sitting closer together under the borrowed blankets.

Joey had one leg stretched out toward the fire, bare foot almost in the flames. His eyes glittered, half-lidded, his voice softer now that the weed had fully sunk into his bones.

Zeke leaned back on his elbows, rolling the last bit of his blunt between his fingers. “So,” he said, glancing at Joey. “Ohio, huh? What was that like?”

Joey exhaled slow, thoughtful. “I—I grew up in Warren. It’s this... old steel town, way past its prime. Real r-run-down now. Everyone’s poor, half the buildings are f-falling apart. There’s still good people there, b-but... it’s rough.”

Darius watched him closely, his profile illuminated by the firelight. There was something different in his voice. Not bitter. Not angry. Just... honest.

“In my house, there was always yelling,” Joey said, shrugging. “S-someone was always pissed. But we l-loved each other. In our own way. Even if we were always arguing.”

Zeke raised his brows, listening. He didn’t interrupt.

“I had two b-brothers and a sister. One bathroom. A bunch of d-dogs. And my s-stutter—” Joey huffed a laugh, then shook his head. “Nobody had time to help me t-talk right and the teachers at s-school couldn’t understand me, s-so they just…gave up. They assumed I—I was stupid. Dumped me in s-special ed and never looked back.”

Zeke’s jaw shifted slightly, but he stayed quiet, just nodded for Joey to keep going.

“I n-never learned to read,” Joey said. “Not really. Just memorized e-enough to get by. But now that I’m grown, it’s... it’s a nightmare. You c-can’t do anything without reading. I lost my dream j-job two weeks back, an apprenticeship at an a-auto shop—‘cause I messed up a part order. It wasn’t even complicated. I just couldn’t read it r-right, and they fired me.”

The fire cracked sharply.

Darius glanced at Zeke, who was staring into the flames now, his expression unreadable.

“I started d-doing dumb jobs for my brother, Ronnie,” Joey went on, voice slower now, more heavy. “Running stuff for him, p-pretending I had it together. But I didn’t. I was just... drifting. I d-didn’t think I’d ever be anything.”

Then Joey looked at Darius—really looked at him, something soft and grateful in his eyes. “But t-that’s how I met Darius. And everything changed after that. He’s t-teaching me to read. He believes I can do it. And I’m... I’m away from home for the first time ever. It’s scary, but... f-finally, it feels like something good is g-gonna happen. I think this is it. My second chance.”

Darius’s throat tightened. He hadn’t expected that. Not so plainly said, not with that much heart. He looked away, swallowing hard.

Across the fire, Zeke took a deep breath. “Damn.”

Joey blinked at him. “S-sorry, was that too much?”

Zeke shook his head. “Nah, man. It’s just... I wasn’t expecting you to be so real.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Compared to that, my life’s been... chill. Almost too chill.”

Joey tilted his head, curious. “Y-you mean that?”

Zeke smiled faintly. “Yeah. I grew up here. Just me and my dad. Frank. He was this mellow, sunburnt hippie who believed weed and saltwater could fix anything. He wasn’t wrong, either.” He chuckled to himself. “Taught me how to surf, how to roll joints, how to tell the truth even when it sucked.”

A beat passed.

“I used to compete. Surfing tournaments, back in high school. Thought maybe I’d go pro. Get sponsored, move to California. I was actually pretty good.”

Joey arched a brow. “You still good?”

Zeke grinned. “I’m still pretty. But nah, the dream kinda fizzled. My dad was getting older, and I stayed to help him out. Then he died, and the shop became mine. Just like that. One day I’m riding waves, the next I’m restocking sunscreen and selling souvenir keychains.”

Joey winced sympathetically. “D-do you hate it?”

“Nah,” Zeke said, but his voice cracked around the edges. “I’m just... tired. This town’s all retirees and tourists. Everyone’s here for a season, and then they’re gone. No one sticks around. No one’s mine, y’know? I just... get lonely.”

The fire popped again, filling the silence.

Darius felt Joey shift beside him. He could sense the gears in his head turning, the soft-hearted part of him waking up.

Joey leaned forward suddenly and put a hand on Zeke’s knee. “Y-you’ll find someone. I mean it. If a mess like me can find a happy ending...” He smiled, wide and warm. “Then so can you.”

Darius nodded. “He’s right. Letting go of the past is hard. But you’ve already started. That’s more than most people do.”

Zeke looked between them, visibly touched—but he rolled his eyes, huffing a laugh to cover it. “Okay, now you’re both starting to sound like a Netflix coming-of-age movie. I’m not high enough for this.”

They all laughed and the tension finally broke.

The sun had dipped low enough now that the sky was painted orange and pink, the ocean shimmering like liquid fire. It was beautiful—undeniably so.

Joey leaned his head on Darius’s shoulder, letting out a dreamy sigh. “Oh, Darius,” he murmured, voice thick with wonder. “It’s s-so beautiful.”

Darius glanced down at him, at the firelight glowing on his cheeks, the way his hair curled behind his ear. And he didn’t even think before saying—

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Joey’s breath hitched. His head lifted, eyes locking with Darius’s, and then they were kissing—hungry, grateful, a little clumsy, all heat and emotion. Joey’s fingers curled into his shirt like he was afraid Darius would float away if he let go.

Darius lost himself in it. In the taste of weed and cheese and something pure and sweet that was simply Joey. He leaned in harder, angled the kiss deeper—

“Ahem.” Zeke loudly cleared his throat. “Gentlemen. There’s a perfectly good room upstairs.”

Joey jerked back like he’d been electrocuted. “Sh-shit! Sorry! Oh my god—”

Darius burst out laughing, letting Joey hide his face against his chest. He smoothed a hand over the kid’s chaotic hair and looked over at Zeke, grinning. “Thanks a lot, man.”

Zeke held up his hands. “Hey, just figured I’d spare the rest of the beachgoers another live show.”

Darius snorted. “Yeah. Alright.”

Zeke tipped his head back, grinning lazily. “Hey—before you go. I put some clothes up there for you both. Just some old stuff I had in storage. You can keep it. Consider it your official beach bum uniforms.”

Darius gave him a small, grateful nod.

Then he stood, reached down, and tugged Joey up with him. The kid wobbled slightly, stoned and blissed out, but beaming.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Darius said, leaning in close enough to graze Joey’s ear, his voice low and rough. “Let’s go see how many times I can make you beg before that fire burns out.”

Joey choked on his breath, his whole face flushing like he’d been slapped. He didn’t say a word. Just followed, and together, they walked up the path, the fire crackling behind them and the sound of waves chasing them into the dark.

The surf shop was dark and still when they slipped inside, the last sliver of sun melting over the ocean behind them. Joey headed straight for the stairs, cheeks still pink from the kiss and Zeke’s teasing.

But Darius didn’t follow.

He grabbed Joey’s wrist, tugged him back with a smirk.

“I’m gonna do your favorite move,” he murmured.

Joey turned around, brows raised. “W-what move?”

Darius didn’t answer—he just pivoted toward one of the little beach displays near the register, leaned over like he was checking a price, then smoothly palmed a sleek bottle of tanning oil from the wooden tray. He slid it into his pocket with the smooth ease of a man who used to steal much more dangerous things.

Joey snorted. “You’re such a d-dumbass,” he hissed. “Zeke’s g-gonna catch you, you know.”

“Yeah?” Darius said, stepping in close and kissing the words right off his lips. “Then maybe you can spank me.”

Joey squeaked a laugh, but it melted fast into a sigh as Darius pressed him back into the hallway, stealing another kiss, slower this time, hungrier.

“We’re going upstairs,” Darius growled, voice low. “Right now.”

Joey didn’t argue. He never did when Darius sounded like that.

They stumbled up the steps together, hearts pounding in time with the rhythm of the waves. Their room was still warm, the salty breeze drifting in through the cracked balcony door. The bed was made, but not for long.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, they were on each other. Mouths clashing together, hands tugging at fabric, sandals kicked off and forgotten.

Darius’s board shorts hit the floor first, then Joey’s cargo pants followed, caught halfway down one leg as they tripped backward toward the bed, laughing, kissing, swearing softly between grins.

Darius ripped his shirt over his head, then tugged Joey’s off next. Joey’s hands were everywhere, sliding over his hips, his chest, gripping Darius’s big shoulders for dear life—and Darius couldn’t get enough of him. He never could. Not when Joey looked at him like that, like he meant everything.

They fell to the bed in a breathless heap, skin fever-hot, their naked bodies pressed flush together.

And Darius held up the stolen bottle, the cap clicking softly.

He met Joey’s eyes and murmured against his mouth, “I’m gonna stretch you more tonight. Because really, really soon... I’m gonna be inside you.”

Joey’s breath caught. A flicker of nerves, yes—but also want. So much want. He nodded, cheeks flushed. “I w-want that,” he whispered. “I want you. All of you. Be m-my first. In everything.”

Darius kissed him deep and slow and reverent—then uncapped the oil, hands already shaking with desire. He poured some in his palm and quickly slicked his fingers, tossing the bottle aside for later. He kissed Joey one more time, then pulled back, sitting on his haunches so he could draw the boy firmly into his lap, resting his butt just an inch or two shy from his hard dick.

Joey gasped a little, blinking up at him trustingly.

And Darius smiled down at him, trailing gentle, oil-slicked fingers down his warm, supple thigh. “Pull your knees back for me, baby.”

Joey immediately shifted his hips up, his cheeks pinkening with another adorable blush as he drew his knees back to his chest. His thighs spread naturally in this position and both his cock and his tight pink asshole were on display.

Darius hummed appreciatively, cupping Joey’s sweet ass and spreading him open even wider. His little hole was so tender and delicate looking, but Darius knew in just another day or so, he’d have it stretched around his big cock, one way or the other. He’d been patient, for days, but every time Joey looked at him like this, every time they kissed… well, Joey was slowly unraveling him and, Darius didn’t think he could wait much longer.

Joey moaned softly as Darius began to tease his hole with a single finger. The little muscle twitched reflexively under his touch, and Darius watched it react, his cock pulsing with excitement.

“Touch yourself, Joey,” he murmured, and Joey moaned even louder as he followed orders, his hand slipping between his thighs and wrapping eagerly around his cock.

“Mmm…Darius…”

Darius used his left hand to start pulling himself off, too, gripping his rigid shaft tight, moving up and down at a slow, methodical pace. But his real energy was on his other hand, on his first two fingers as he eased them into Joey’s body, pushing past the first ring of tight muscle and sliding deeper inside.

“Oooh g-god…” Joey groaned, his hand flying faster on his dick as he clenched down hard on Darius’s invading fingers.

Darius fucked him slow at first, keeping his fingers shallow, concentrating on stretching Joey with repeated scissoring motions, opening his fingers a bit wider each time so he could see more of his gaping pink channel. He fingered him like that for awhile, gradually increasing the pace as his other hand unconsciously sped up on his cock to match Joey’s.

And through it all, Joey was incredibly vocal. His moans and dramatic sighs nearly drowned out the distant sound of the waves just outside. He stroked his cock over and over, throwing his head back against the sheets as Darius pushed ever deeper into his willing body.

Darius avoided Joey’s prostate at first, wanting to make him work for it, but after several long minutes of determinedly fingering the boy, of watching Joey writhe below him, lost in the grips of pleasure, he felt he’d finally earned it. He stretched Joey’s hot little hole nice and wide one more time, then pushed deeper to press firmly against the spongy bundle of nerves on the front wall of his rectum.

Joey let out a yell of pleasure, bucking his hips and grinding down on Darius’s fingers. His cock was noticeably leaking precome and his balls were pulled tight to his body. He was close to coming and Darius chuckled darkly, delighted by the sight.

Gently, he pulled his fingers almost all the way out of Joey’s wildly clenching hole. He gazed down at it for a moment, entranced by the glorious, wet sight, but then his own cock twitched strongly with need. He was close, too, and he pressed his fingers together again, adding a third this time before he dove inside once more, stretching the boy even wider than before.

And Joey accepted the penetration enthusiastically, sweat beading along his hairline as he humped himself back frantically onto Darius’s questing fingers. His desperate moans and the wet sound of his asshole squelching was delicious and dirty and Darius leaned closer, putting weight on the backs of Joey’s trembling thighs so he could growl in his ear.

“Come for me, baby. You’re my pretty little whore and I want to watch you explode.”

Joey moaned wantonly, his whole body shaking as he rushed toward an orgasm.

But then Darius firmly stroked his prostate again and Joey’s eyes slammed shut as he came with a cry of utter joy. Come sprayed all over his chest, some even splattering his face and landing in his crazy blond hair.

Darius continued fucking him, but slower now, massaging Joey’s prostate until his orgasm finally ebbed and he sagged limp against the bed. Darius finished with a grunt just seconds later, aiming between Joey’s thighs so their come would mix on his chest.

Afterward, they lay tangled together in the warm, dark room—naked, sticky, breathless. The only light came from the newly risen moon flickering through the balcony door, casting long white shafts of light across the bed. The sound of waves crashing below filled the silence between them, steady and soft, like a lullaby.

Joey was still curled against him, flushed and boneless. His cheek pressed into Darius’s chest, eyelids fluttering with the last remnants of pleasure. Darius ran his fingers through Joey’s sweat dampened locks, then leaned in for a long, slow kiss—just mouths brushing, breath sharing. Gentle and unhurried.

When they broke apart, Joey didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

He simply exhaled and smiled, a quiet, exhausted little thing, before tucking himself tighter into Darius’s side. His breathing slowed, evening out within seconds.

Fast asleep.

Darius watched him for a moment longer, heart heavy with something too deep and too good to name. Then he pressed one last kiss to Joey’s parted lips.

"Mine," he murmured against his skin, barely louder than a breath.

Then he wrapped an arm around him and closed his eyes, letting the rhythm of the ocean rock him into sleep too.