The sky stretched vast and clear above, a moonlit sky, untouched by city glow. Nearby, the warm glow of street lamps can be traced along the rugged seawall and the gentle surf lapping below.
Kai was already there — perched on the edge of the seawall with his legs dangling loosely over the side, the balls of his feet still dusted with dried sand. The breeze ruffled his light brown hair as he looked up, the soft moonlight catching the contours of his face — still holding onto the last traces of boyhood, with his cheeks still a little full and his features not yet fully sharpened by time with faint freckles dotted on his skin. There was a distant, quiet stillness in him, the kind that came from being too far in your own head. His stormy gray eyes reflected the sky above — unreadable.
His flip-flops lay abandoned beside a well-worn surfboard resting against the wall, its surface matte and shadowed in the moonlight. A sketchbook lay open in his lap, one page halfway filled with a loose pencil drawing of the stars above.
Elliot walked out of the shadows and into the soft glow of moonlight, his tall, lean figure framed against the darkened path. He settled down beside Kai with a soft grunt. "You always disappear to the same spot," he said, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're like a stray cat."
Kai didn't laugh, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "You followed me?"
"Duh." Elliot glanced sideways at him, voice light but with just enough edge to land. "You can't just ditch your favorite cousin like that. Kinda rude, not gonna lie."
Kai shifted, the smirk fading slightly from his face. "Sorry, it's just… I dunno. Needed some space, I guess."
He didn't look at Elliot when he said it — just kept his eyes on the water, like the answer might drift up out of the waves if he stared long enough.
Just like that, they sat in silence for a bit. The awkwardness hung between them — not heavy, but loud in its own way. Neither of them quite knew what to say next. Waves lapped gently against the rocks below, filling the space where words should've been.
Kai picked at the corner of his sketchbook. Elliot leaned back on his hands, staring up at the stars, letting out a slow breath, the cool night air filling his lungs.
After a moment, he glanced over at Kai, waiting but saying nothing, then turned his gaze back up to the night sky.
Yeah. Peak cousin energy.
Kai shifted on the rough seawall, the silence between them feeling heavier than usual. He glanced over at Elliot, who was watching the stars quietly, and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the awkwardness settling in his chest. After a pause, swallowing the lump in his throat before speaking softly with a hesitant, almost questioning tone, "Hey… can I ask you something? I'm not really sure how to put it, but you're the only one I feel like I can be honest with right now."
Elliot glanced over at Kai, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Honest, huh? That's a first. Spill it... What's got you all serious tonight? Usually, you'd be the one trying to talk me into some ridiculous stunt by now."
Kai shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "Nah, you'd probably make fun of me before I even got the first sentence out."
Elliot nudged Kai's shoulder, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Hey, whatever you need, man — I've always got your back.
Kai took a slow breath, the salt air mixing with the faint scent of damp wood and seaweed. He glanced up at the stars, then back at Elliot. "It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm drifting. Like I'm watching my own life happen, but I'm not really in control. Like I'm supposed to be doing something — something important — but I don't know what."
Elliot's grin softened, and he shifted closer, settling into the quiet beside Kai. "I get that. Feels like you're on a boat without a rudder sometimes."
Kai nodded, fingers tracing absent patterns on the rough stone. "Yeah. And the worst part? Everyone expects me to have it all figured out — or at least pretend like I do."
Elliot let out a slow breath, his gaze settling on Kai. "Nobody really has it all figured out, man. Especially not at our age. Maybe the trick is just finding your own pace."
Kai's eyes eventually lifted to meet Elliot's. "Maybe. But it's hard when you don't even know where you want to go."
Elliot shrugged, voice gentle but steady. "That's okay. You don't have to have all the answers right now. Hell, maybe you never will. But you're not alone. I'm here."
Kai managed a small smile, the weight on his chest
Kai exhaled, rubbing at his eyes. They sat in the warm dark for a while, the ocean breathing in and out beside them.
After a pause, Kai finally broke the silence.
"So... what about you? You ever feel like that? Like everything's mapped out except for the parts you actually want?"
Elliot smiled faintly, looking at the stars.
"More than you know."
They stayed there for a while longer, sharing quiet company under the sky. The weight felt a little lighter.
But the weight of those thoughts wasn't always so clear.
A few days earlier
The last bell of the school year echoed through the halls, sending a wave of relief and excitement rushing through the students. Kai slung his backpack over one shoulder and pushed through the crowd. He was the kind of kid people liked to be around — easy to talk to, quick with a joke, always moving with a restless energy. But beneath that, there were thoughts he rarely shared, things he kept locked away. Everyone liked him, but nobody really knew what was on his mind.
He grabbed a quick bite at the corner café and skated back home, cutting through winding streets that followed the curve of the coast. The sky was still too bright, too loud. Summer had technically begun, but it didn't feel like freedom. Not to him.
When he got home, the house was still and quiet — the kind of quiet that pressed in when your thoughts refused to settle. His sketchbooks were where he'd left them, pages half-filled with ideas that sparked brightly but faded just as fast. He wanted to do something productive, something meaningful — but the more he tried, the more it felt like everything was slipping through his fingers.
He dropped his bag by the door and flopped onto his bed, not bothering to change. His room was warm, windows cracked open to let in the scent of salt and sun. He stared at the ceiling, watching the slow crawl of shadows from the fan blades above.
He hated this part — the in-between. The end of one thing, the start of another, and the aching space where nothing felt right. He didn't know what he wanted. He never had for that matter. Every hobby he tried eventually tired him out. Every passion fizzled into dust. People thought he had it together because he smiled often and moved like he had purpose. But most days, he didn't.
He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come quick — but knowing it wouldn't.
Instead, the silence was replaced with old memories flooding in. Kai was maybe six. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, a crayon in one hand, a peanut butter sandwich in the other. The world was warm and simple. He didn't understand the quiet tension in the air yet.
Kai remembered when his mother tried to teach his father how to open a coconut the traditional way — the right way, as she called it. She handed him the cleaver and said, "Hold it steady. Don't swing like a maniac now."
His dad nodded solemnly like his life depended on it, he slammed the cleaver down with a dramatic grunt. The blade glanced off the shell, hitting the cutting board, and sent the coconut rolling across the counter — completely untouched without a dent in sight.
Without missing a beat, his dad straightened up and said, "I loosened it."
Lola didn't even look up from the sink. "Sureeee..," she said, dragging the word out just enough to be impossible to take seriously.
Kai, mid-bite, lost it. He laughed so hard he nearly choked on his sandwich, crayon slipping from his hand as he doubled over on the floor. The whole thing was ridiculous.
That memory never lasted long though. Because the arguing came later and so did the silence. Long stretches of it. The house felt smaller after that. Colder even.
Then eventually turned into never.
Back in the present, he opened his eyes to the ceiling fan spinning slowly above him. The music was gone. So were they — at least, the versions of them that had existed in that memory.
He swallowed hard and sat up, pushing the blanket off his chest. His room was still warm. The quiet was different now — heavier.
He didn't feel like a kid anymore.
Just tired…
And just like that, the edges of the room began to drift away with heavy eyelids. His thoughts loosened, turned foggy, and with barely a whisper, sleep pulled him under — deep, slow, and dreamless.
Kai awoke to the gentle warmth of sunlight spilling across his face — thin streaks of sunlight slipping through the slats of the blinds. His eyes blinked open slowly, lids heavy, breath shallow. The ceiling fan hummed above him, lazily spinning shadows across the walls.
Outside, the distant cry of birds cut through the morning stillness — probably a pair of terns. He lay there for a moment, letting the warmth sink into his skin. The breeze smelled faintly of the sea.
He sat up slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. A savory scent pulled at his senses more effectively than any alarm clock making his stomach rumble. He followed it to the kitchen.
His mother was already at the stove, wearing an old linen shirt and humming to herself off-key as two pans hissed beneath her hands. One held garlic fried rice — lightly crisped with bits of scallion and egg. The other had thick slices of chouriço and scrambled eggs, sizzling in its own fats.
On the counter beside her was a plate of crusty bread brushed with olive oil and fresh tomato, a small bowl of pickled green olives sat beside a wedge of soft cheese wrapped in wax paper. Everything smelled sun-soaked and homemade.
When she heard him behind her, she turned with a wooden spatula in one hand and a bright grin on her face.
The wind coming off the sea was warm, thick with salt and the faint scent of seaweed baking under the day's leftover heat. It rustled the tall beach grass and stirred the loose grit along the pavement. Down by the coast, the boardwalk was quieter than usual — most of the tourists had gone back to their rentals for the night. The soft sound of waves lapping at the rocks filled the air, steady and unhurried.
The sky overhead was wide and open, a deep shade of blue-black, scattered with stars that shimmered clearly without the glare of city lights. Streetlamps flickered in the distance, casting long, golden reflections across the sea wall and the edge of the surf.
Kai was already there — perched on the edge of the seawall with his legs dangling loosely over the side, ankles still dusted with dried sand. A sketchbook lay open in his lap, one page halfway filled with a loose pencil drawing of the night sky above him. His hand rested on the page, fingers still curled around the pencil, though he hadn't drawn anything for the past few minutes.