The air was still warm even as the sun dipped below the sea. Elias couldn't sleep. His mind buzzed with thoughts of Malik—where he'd gone, whether he'd come back, whether that spark had only existed in Elias' head.
He climbed out of bed, pulled on a hoodie, and slipped out the back door of the villa. The sand was cool beneath his feet as he wandered down to the shoreline, sketchbook in hand, just in case.
He wasn't sure what he was hoping for. A sign, maybe. Or just peace.
Then he saw him.
Malik was sitting on the old wooden bench near the dunes, his hoodie pulled up, a thermos cradled in his hands.
Elias stopped, unsure. But Malik turned, sensing him, and smiled—tired, but real.
"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked.
Elias shook his head and walked over. "I thought you left."
"I did. Just for the day. Had to help my uncle with something up the hill."
Elias exhaled, a laugh escaping. "You scared me."
"Sorry," Malik said softly.
They sat side by side in the dark, the ocean whispering just beyond. Malik handed him the thermos. It was warm chamomile tea.
"You think too much," Malik said after a long silence.
Elias tilted his head. "I do not."
"You do," Malik smiled, nudging him playfully. "I can see it. You get quiet and your eyes start writing stories."
Elias sipped the tea, letting the quiet fill the space between them.
"And what do your eyes see?" he asked.
Malik hesitated. Then: "Someone beautiful. And scared. And strong."
The moon was high now, casting silver light over the waves. Elias turned to look at him, breath caught.
"Why do you see me like that?"
"Because it's who you are."
Elias smiled, barely, his heart folding in on itself. He didn't know what to say.
So, he just leaned his head gently against Malik's shoulder.
And Malik didn't move away.