Chapter Text
The sky flares up with color, melting into the sea's horizon like liquid fire. You stand solitary on the sand, your breath in sync with the crashing waves. The ocean is a living memory, forever shifting yet strangely the same. Every time you looked out at the shimmering depths, you were reminded of the person you longed to see the most. Unfathomable and reckless, Moon was a part of your world that felt like magic. The shoreline echoes with old laughter, the kind that hasn't touched your lips in years. You recall those days like they happened only moments ago, your heart aching with the recollection.
Time dissolves, pulling you back to those sun-soaked afternoons when you chased Moon as he darted between the waves, half-buried in mischief and mystery. He was beautiful and strange, his eyes bright with secrets he refused to share. You found him exhilarating, like the sea that both frightened and fascinated you. He pushed you out of your shell, dragging you headfirst into trouble, and you pulled him back before fun became danger. Together, you were adventurers, unearthing the world's wonders on this very shore. The memory is vivid—salt and warmth and the thrill of discovery with someone you thought would always be there.
Even now, standing on the cool evening sand, you swear you can feel him beside you, ankle deep in the waves, tugging at your hand. The air vibrates with possibility, and for a moment, you're that carefree child again, running and laughing with someone you trusted more than yourself. But that illusion, like the sun, slips away too soon.
His vanishing was the beginning, a pattern as certain as the tides. First for hours, then for days, then without explanation for months. Those disappearances carved hollows in your trust, spaces that filled with questions he never answered. Each return was as sudden as his leaving, and though the joy of seeing him eclipsed everything else, the doubt lingered, barnacle-like. Did he know how you waited for him? The part of you that wished for more, the part of you that hurt in his absence—did he understand?
Each time he returned, questions burned at your lips, waiting to be spoken. But each time you lost your resolve, unwilling to break the status quo. A deep-seated fear churned in your gut that once you pressed for answers, Moon would run to avoid them, that he would leave one final time never to return.
Your town becomes an accomplice to this solitary longing. It shrugs indifferently with its weathered boardwalk, its creaky, salt-worn docks where fishermen curse the sea. The shops and houses lean into the wind, like weather-beaten sailors who can't remember a time before. Everything is exactly as it was, and everything is different because he's not here. The family property looms behind you, a legacy passed down with reluctance and love. Some days, you wear its history like an anchor; other days, it's a lifeline.
You run your fingers over the stone pendant resting against your skin, the one he gave you long ago, when both of you were too young to understand what a gift like that might mean. It's smooth from years of holding, a tangible promise he never knew he made. You haven't taken it off, not even once, not even now when you wonder if you ever really knew him. The sea darkens as the sun sinks, the wind lifting your hair like a familiar hand, and you stand there alone with your memories, pretending they're enough.
This is the longest he has been gone, and you feel cold with longing. Each night that passed seemed to solidify the fear that he was lost to you forever. And if he never returned, you would be left wondering forever if it was his choice or if disaster had stolen him away. Eventually you were sure you would waste away unable to move on from the loss.
The sun sinks low, and you turn from the shore, trailing footsteps behind. The walk home is familiar, past sea oats that bend like old friends whispering their concern. Your cottage is an exhale, a small comfort at the edge of everything else.
Once the building had been filled with boisterous noise, signs of an abundance of love, but time had stolen most of it, leaving only your voice and actions to fill the void. Usually, the quiet was calming for your tumultuous heart, but at other times, the silence was jarring, and often you would lie awake at night unnerved by the quiet until you focused on the distant waves and let their song lull you to sleep.
Inside, it's warm, the kind that borders on neglect. Worn furniture hugs the walls with forgiving patience. A blanket spills from the couch, and books sit untouched, reminders of all you put off. Soup bubbles on the stove for an elderly neighbor, because you can't help putting others first. Busy hands quiet the mind after all. The phone rings insistently.
You pause, wiping your hands on your jeans before picking up. The line crackles for a moment, then Sofia's voice bursts through, vibrant and concerned.
"Hey, just checking in. You sounded off earlier. Everything okay?"
You cradle the phone between shoulder and ear, glancing at the list of calls you still need to make. "Define okay. Because I'm about as okay as a marathon runner at mile twenty."
There's a pause, filled with Sofia's doubt. "You're not working yourself into an early grave, right?"
You laugh it off, stirring the soup, watching the steam rise and fade. "You can’t get rid of me that easily."
"You're incorrigible," she says, but her words are a sigh. "Seriously, when's the last time you did something just for you? You never seem to take a minute to breathe."
The question sits there, heavy. "I put extra marshmallows in my hot cocoa last winter?"
She groans, the sound theatrical enough to make you smile. "If you weren't my best friend, I'd report you for self-neglect."
The furniture sags, a mirror of your own tiredness. You imagine Sofia pacing, her mind a restless storm of plans and concerns. "Tell you what," she says. "I'm coming by tomorrow. I'll bring dinner, and you just have to exist. Can you manage that?"
"Hmm, I don’t know I’ll have to check my schedule." You teased. “But, maybe I can squeeze you in if you pick up food from the Johnson’s restaurant?”
"Deal. Just don't try to escape through the back door."
Her laughter trails off as the call ends, leaving you in the comfortable clutter of your living room. You finish the soup and pour it into a container, wrapping it carefully. Your eyes wander to the unfinished shelf, the threadbare rug, the life paused in every corner. The mantle clock ticks away your good intentions.
Stepping outside, the wind bites at your skin, but you barely notice. You head to your neighbor's, the sky darkening overhead. He greets you with a grateful smile, and you chat for longer than planned, his stories stretching late into the evening. It's almost like having family, and you think maybe that's why you do this, why you can't help yourself from helping others. You leave with a thermos of freshly brewed sweet tea he pressured you into accepting.
Back at the cottage, you reheat leftovers you don't have the energy to eat, spent from cooking for someone else. There's a comfort in routine, in putting off what you need to face another day. Sofia's voice echoes in your mind, and you know she's right, but there's always tomorrow. There's always another chance to try again.
You drag the blanket from the couch, collapsing into its soft rebellion. The books stare you down, waiting. The exhaustion of holding up everything and everyone else lulls you toward sleep. You give in, the dreams already spinning in your mind before the night fully takes you.
Far too quickly, you wake again. The night refuses you rest, tossing you back into the world like a broken promise. Accepting defeat, you decide a walk may quell the restlessness inside you. A sweater does nothing to keep the chill off as you head for the beach, leaving the suffocating cottage behind. Moonlight spills over the sand, a silent invitation to wander and remember. The shore is an open secret, and you walk it barefoot, letting the waves wash away hesitation. It's you and the sea, alone again with unspoken questions. The water catches your eye, whispering its mystery. Ripples against the current. Flashes of unnatural light. A shadow, dark and impossibly close.
Everything is hushed, but your thoughts are loud, rattling in your mind with anticipation and dread. You're pulled toward the water, the way you always are. The ocean tugs at you with something you can't name, something deep and endless. As you wade into the shallows, the cold bites at your skin, but the thrill of discovery keeps you there.
The disturbances multiply. The ripples move with intent, almost like they're reaching for you. Light flares beneath the surface, pale blue and mesmerizing. You're drawn in, mesmerized, unable to look away from the spectacle. Your heart races, a reckless drum against your ribs. What is this? What does it mean?
You hesitate at the water's edge, your feet sinking into wet sand. Questions swirl, tangling with the breeze. You strain your eyes to catch a clearer glimpse, but whatever you saw had moved, the creature stealthy in its natural domain.
A sudden splash, violent and near. You flinch, stumbling backward. The water erupts with life, and you catch a glimpse—a tail, massive and sleek, vanishing into the depths. It moves with a grace that leaves you breathless, a motion too fluid and powerful to belong to anything but him.
You stand frozen, disbelief and wonder locked in battle. The ocean smooths itself over, leaving nothing but the memory of what you saw, or think you saw. Did it happen? It wasn’t the first time you had caught a glimpse of the large sleek tail, though you had never been able to identify what it belonged to. The sightings were rare and sporadic, always leaving you breathless and in awe. For such a large creature, it was sly and stealthy, only showing you glimpse you had begun to think were purposeful.
Your breath comes ragged, fogging the air as you try to steady yourself. The water laps at your ankles, indifferent to your astonishment. The beach feels vast and empty, the world holding its breath around you. You search for a shadow of your watery companion, but as always found nothing.
It almost felt as though it was telling you the excitement was over and it was time to return to bed.
You turn to leave, but the sensation prickles at your skin, the sense of being watched. A familiar, unsettling awareness that fills you with equal parts hope and unease. You scan the horizon, but the night reveals nothing, only the echo of your solitude.
If you knew what lingered beneath, if you knew about the eyes—those red eyes tracing every step of your departure—you might have stayed longer. But you walk away, the pendant heavy at your throat, unaware of the truth just beneath the waves.
There’s a weight to the dark that presses down as you make your way back, heavy with secrets. The cottage swallows you up, and the quiet is almost accusatory. You wrap yourself in the blanket again, shivering with the remnants of adrenaline and the chill of the night. The clock ticks at you, relentless, until the exhaustion finally pulls you under.
The sun climbs sluggishly, gilding the cottage in an early morning haze. You throw yourself into the day, unwilling to brood. There’s too much to do, and you prefer it that way. Repairing a broken window latch turns into an overhaul of the entire frame, and a quick sweep of the floors finds you scrubbing away stains that only you seem to notice.
A trip to the farmers market yields a full basket of fresh produce, and you end up volunteering to help set up Sofia's library booth, stacking books and organizing flyers for the upcoming preservation meeting. She watches you with a mix of admiration and exasperation, both of which you skillfully avoid acknowledging.
Afternoon finds you back at the cottage, caught between an endless to-do list and your unmade bed. The clean sheets are a temptation you can't resist. You burrow under them, letting the hum of your racing thoughts lull you into a fitful nap.
You're woken by the buzz of the phone, insistent as always. Fumbling for it, you catch Sofia's voice before you're fully awake.
"Hey, change of plans. I'm heading over early. Hope you're ready!"
You check the time, groggy with surprise. "Sure, you're just saving me from my own laziness."
"Close call," she laughs. "Be there soon."
The line clicks dead, and you drag yourself up, running a hand through your hair and glancing around at the cluttered comfort of your home. The mirror shows you someone you hardly recognize—a weary stranger who carries the weight of too much waiting. You sigh, pulling on a clean sweater just as a knock rattles the door.
Sofia bursts in, arms full of takeout containers and her own vibrant presence. Her hair is windblown, eyes bright with the day's energy. "I brought enough to feed an army," she says, setting the bags down with dramatic flair. “Knowing you, you’ve barely eaten all day.”
You rub sleep from your eyes, feigning grumpiness. "I would have eaten, but I fell asleep instead."
She plops the bags on your kitchen counter, surveying the room with a critical eye. "You actually took a nap? Color me impressed."
"Don't be. I woke up feeling like I'd barely closed my eyes."
Her expression softens, concern woven into the lines of her smile. "Last night was rough, huh?"
"Rough enough," you admit, setting the table as she unpacks the food. "I ended up on the beach again."
"Did you see anything?" She lowers her voice, leaning in with conspiratorial excitement.
"Same as always. Lights. Shadows. The works."
Her face lights up, victorious. "I know you think I'm nuts, but I'm telling you, there's something to it. And I'm going to figure it out."
You gesture to the crowded table, redirecting the conversation, uncomfortable with the idea of her unraveling your mystery. It felt too personal for someone else to solve. "I'm more curious about what you heard at Johnson's. Fill me in."
She rolls her eyes but takes the bait, launching into a detailed account of the restaurant's latest drama. You settle in, grateful for the distraction, letting her words wash over you with their usual chaotic comfort.
When the food is gone and the sun dips low, you walk her to the door. She pulls you into a hug, fierce as always, like she's afraid you'll slip away if she doesn't hold on tight enough.
"Call me if you can't sleep. Promise?"
"Promise, no more late night strolls without supervision." you say, watching her retreat down the path. The cottage feels cavernous after she's gone, and you busy yourself with cleanup, scraping leftover rice into empty cartons and stacking them in the fridge. The list of calls you wrote sits accusingly on the counter, but you're too tired to face the obligations it holds. You collapse on the couch, the blanket a familiar comfort.
Sofia's visit has left you hollow and restless, and you know there's nothing to be done but wait. Wait for the tide to shift, wait for your life to feel like it's yours again. Above you, the clock ticks off seconds you can't seem to make count.
Sleep creeps back slowly, pulling you down in fits and starts. This time, nothing disturbs you. No phone, no lingering doubts. Only the heaviness of dreams without Moon, dreams where you're still waiting, dreams that leave you more tired than when you started.