The days that followed unfolded gently, like waves repeating the same comforting pattern.
Mornings belonged to the beach. Afternoons melted into shade beneath palms or scattered trees, where Elias sketched while Malik watched with quiet fascination. Evenings were for sunsets—shared silence, shoulders nearly touching as the sky burned and softened all at once.
It became routine without either of them naming it.
Sometimes they talked for hours. Other times, they let the quiet speak, filled only by wind and water. But always, there was awareness—a constant pull humming just beneath the surface.
Elias noticed everything.
The way Malik said his name, slow and warm. The way his laughter came easy but his eyes sometimes held something deeper, more careful. Elias caught himself watching Malik's hands when he spoke, imagining how they might feel resting somewhere more intentional.
He wondered if Malik noticed how his heart leapt every time Malik looked at him a second too long.
One afternoon, they rented a paddleboard, the water shimmering beneath the sun. Malik climbed on effortlessly, standing tall and steady as if the sea itself obeyed him.
Elias, on the other hand, barely made it two seconds before tumbling into the water with a splash.
Malik laughed, loud and bright. "You okay?"
Elias surfaced, hair plastered to his forehead, gasping and laughing. "This thing hates me."
"Come here," Malik said, crouching and reaching down.
Elias took his hand.
Malik's grip was firm, warm, grounding. As he pulled Elias back onto the board, their bodies came close—too close. Elias' breath caught as he felt Malik's knee brush his thigh, his hand still wrapped around Elias' wrist.
They didn't let go right away.
"You good?" Malik asked, voice quieter now.
"Yeah," Elias said, though his pulse raced. "Just… cold."
Malik studied him for a moment, eyes searching, then nodded. But his thumb brushed once over Elias' skin before he released him—an accidental touch that felt anything but.
That night, Elias lay awake staring at the ceiling, the sound of the ocean drifting through the open window. His fingers tingled like they'd been charged with electricity. His sketchbook sat untouched beside him.
He didn't know how to draw what he was feeling.
The next morning, Malik wasn't there.
Not at the beach. Not at the café. Not near the dock.
Elias waited anyway.
He sat on the flat rock, sketchpad open but empty, watching the tide come and go. Hours passed. By sunset, the ache in his chest had sharpened into something undeniable.
This wasn't just curiosity anymore.
It was longing.
And as the sky darkened and Elias finally packed up to leave, the realization settled heavy and true:
He was falling for Malik.